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daisynik7 · 6 months

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Sweet Like Honey

Chapter 1: The First Time

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: established relationship, fluff, smut – PIV sex (missionary), nipple play, clitoral stimulation, sex without a condom, creampie, pet names

Summary: Nanami invites you to his place for the first time, where he offers to cook you dinner, which leads to a night of many other firsts.

Author's Notes: I originally wrote these spicy side stories for A Bento For Kento last year and I'm just now getting around to editing/rewriting some of it to match more of my current style! I hope you like it, thank you for reading! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Sweet Like Honey Masterlist | Next Chapter

Being inside Nanami’s apartment for the first time makes you nervous for some reason. Maybe it’s the feeling of being in somebody’s personal space that makes you uneasy. You like this man, of course, but there’s still so much you don’t know about him. It’s only been two weeks since you started dating. Two weeks since your first and second kiss at the street food festival. With Ren still living with you at home, it’s been difficult to find time to be alone with Nanami.

Until tonight.

He offers to make dinner, which is already such a huge turn on for you. The smell coming from the kitchen is intoxicating. You can’t recall the last time that someone cooked a meal from scratch to serve to you. There’s yearning in the pit of your stomach. Is it hunger caused by the aroma of the food? Or desire for the man currently preparing the food? It’s both, definitely both.

You’re currently sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine in hand, classical music playing on his stereo in the background. You don’t expect anything less from him, already so smitten by the classy Kento Nanami. You sneak a glance at him in the kitchen, admiring the black apron he’s wearing over a blue dress shirt and his usual spotted tie. He looks extremely attractive right now. In fact, he is extremely attractive. Feeling increasingly nervous each passing minute, you chug your liquor before standing up to walk into the kitchen. He takes his focus away from the pan to look at you, asking, “Need anything?”

“I was actually coming here to ask you the same question,” you respond with a small smile.

“I’m almost done. Just want the sauce to thicken up a bit more.” He eyes your empty glass. “Need a refill?”

You hold it out to him, nodding. “Yes, please.”

He pours the bottle, filling it halfway. Without a word, you tip it into your mouth, taking three large gulps to swallow it down. From your peripheral, you catch Nanami watching you curiously.

Why are you freaking out right now? You’re with your boyfriend, who has been nothing but kind, gentle, and sweet to you. But tonight, you are hyper aware that it’s just the two of you, alone inside his swanky apartment, the bedroom just a few feet away.

It’s just dinner, you remind yourself. This doesn’t guarantee that the two of you will have sex tonight. Besides, why are you thinking about sex to begin with? Get your mind out of the gutter. He invited you here for dinner, nothing more. However, there’s no denying that it’s been on your mind. You nearly pounced on him at the street food festival. Every night, you replay the memory of his touch; his gentle hand on your cheek, his warm mouth on yours. How his lips feel against the skin of your wrist. The way his jaw clenches when he’s trying to hold back. You want to feel that again. You want more.

You’ve seen each other a couple more times after that night, either out in public or at your house with Ren. And with your protective younger brother always keeping an eye out, your goodnight kisses have been tame, a little too tame, if you’re being honest. To say you’ve been eager for this alone time with him is an understatement. Despite this, you can’t help being a tad nervous. Will you two be compatible in the bedroom? Are there any weird kinks he’s into? Is he okay with the kinks that you’re into? These questions won’t be answered all in one night, so there’s no use in stressing about it when sex isn’t even on the table yet. You’re only focus tonight should be to enjoy this delicious home-cooked meal courtesy of your super hot boyfriend and let everything play out the way it should.

“Go ahead and sit. I’ll serve you.” You snap out of your reverie at the sound of his voice and take a seat at the dining table, taking the bottle of wine with you. Soon, he appears with two steaming plates in hand, setting one in front of you and the other at his spot next to you. “Carbonara and garlic bread. This is my favorite meal to cook,” he says, sitting down and filling his glass.

“This smells and looks incredible. I’m so impressed!” you beam at him, eyes glowing with admiration.

“That’s a huge compliment, coming from you,” he responds, smiling.

“Pasta is not a specialty of mine. You’ll have to teach me one day.”

“Sounds like a good date idea. Let’s plan that soon.”

You twirl your fork around the noodles for the perfect bite. It’s still piping hot off the plate. When it hits your tongue, your taste buds sing. The sauce is perfectly creamy with just the right amount of cheese and pepper flavor. The salt from the crisp bits of pancetta adds enough flavor without being too overpowering. The noodles are al-dente, just the way you like it. Everything together creates a luxurious, well-balanced dish. Even the garlic bread is delicious; he roasted the garlic beforehand, surrounding the apartment with one of your favorite scents. “Delicious. Absolutely delicious. It tastes even better than it looks, and it looks incredible.”

“Now you’re just exaggerating,” he says, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“No, Nanami. It’s seriously amazing. Thank you for cooking this for me.” You take another big forkful, closing your eyes and making small noises of satisfaction. He doesn’t speak, a small smile on his face smile as he eats his own food, occasionally glancing at you to make sure you’re still enjoying the meal. The silence isn’t awkward; it feels comfortable. Both of you indulging in delicious food and great company.

When you’ve scraped your plate clean with your last piece of garlic bread, you finish the rest of your wine, letting out happy sigh as you rub your belly. Nanami finishes soon after and stands up to take the plates into the kitchen. You follow, offering, “Let me wash the dishes! It’s the least I could do after you’ve fed me.”

“I’ll put them in the dishwasher, don’t worry.”

You lean against the countertop, helping him load the dishwasher. After the cycle stars, he steps towards you, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you for dinner. Seriously. That was so delicious,” you say, peering up at him.

“You know that I already like you, right?” he chuckles, planting another smooch on you. “You don’t have to keep flattering me.”

“I’m just being honest! That was one of the best meals I’ve ever had! But I’m obviously biased because I already like you too,” you tease, winking. From behind him, you suddenly notice something on his fridge. Curious, you walk up to it. It’s the bento box notes you wrote him, hung up by magnets, each one wrinkled from wear and tear. Smiling, you ask, “You hung them up on your fridge?

He stands beside you, arm brushing yours. “Of course. They keep me going throughout the week.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, beaming at him. “You are the sweetest man, you know that?” You kiss, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you in closer. The fact that he still has those notes, now hung up on his fridge like artwork, makes your heart swell. How is this man even real? And how are you lucky enough to have him as your boyfriend?

He pulls away from the kiss, voice wavering just the slightest. “Should we move to the couch?”

Heat creeps into your face as he leads you into the living room. Is the wine getting to you? Or is it your nerves? You’re the one who initiated the kiss, so why are you surprised that he wants to move it to the couch?! There’s no way he wants to get it on right now; you just ate. Isn’t there a rule about waiting thirty minutes after you eat, or does that only apply to swimming?

You both sit on the catch, knees touching, holding hands. He gazes at you lovingly, even as you try to avoid his gaze. “Are you okay? You seem a little distracted.” He brushes your cheek with his thumb, his touch giving you the flutters below your stomach.

“I’m fine,” you lie, totally flustered now.

“Are you sure?” He brings your hand up to his lips, placing soft kisses between your knuckles. Oh no, your absolute weakness.

“I guess I’m just a little nervous,” you admit.

“What are you nervous about?”

You let out a timid laugh. “I don’t know. I’m just being weird.”

He stops kissing to study you. “You can be honest with me. Please tell me what’s on your mind.”

Taking a deep breath, you explain, “I want to get some things out in the open. Make sure we’re both on the same page.”

There’s a worried glint in his eyes. “Okay.”

Another deep breath. “So, um. Sex. I want to have sex. With you. Do you…I mean, would you like that, too? Is that, um, something you want to do with me?”

You can see a small grin forming on his lips, but he immediately goes back to a neutral expression to answer, “Yes. Very much so.”

Cheeks burning, you reply, “Okay. That’s…good to know.” You clear your throat before posing the next question. “Have…have you been tested recently? I’m sorry to ask this, I just want to make sure we’re practicing safe sex.”

Calmly, he says, “I got tested two weeks ago as soon as we started dating. Everything is good.” Before you can continue, he adds, “And don’t apologize for asking that. That’s a very valid question.”

You nod, easing up a bit. “I got tested a few months ago when I last saw my gynecologist. And I’m also good. I haven’t had sex since then, so yeah. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Good.”

There’s a moment of silence as you properly process this conversation. Why were you so anxious? You should have known that talking to Nanami like this would be easy, considering how mature he is.

“Oh! Also, I’m on birth control. Just FYI. In case you were wondering,” you blurt out.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he says, a kind expression on his face. Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the way he looks at you.

Finally relaxed, you say, “Okay, I think that’s all I wanted to talk about. Thank you.”

“Thank you for opening up to me.” He places his hand on yours, caressing you with his thumb.

You ask, “Do you have any questions for me?” He shakes his head no. You continue. “I’m sorry if this is awkward. I just want to make sure we go about this the right way.” The fluster on your face is definitely noticeable; there’s no hiding it now.

His smile brightens as he scoots closer to you. “You’re too cute, you know that?”

At that, you let out another giggle, glancing down at your lap, shy for an entirely different reason now.

“I really like you. You have no idea,” he whispers, breath warm on your ear. When did he get so close? Your heart pounds like crazy, enough that he can probably hear it.

Attempting to lighten the mood, you joke, “You still like me after all that interrogation?”

“I think I like you even more now.” There’s lust dripping in his voice. “Can I kiss you?”

Without saying another word, you lean in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss starts slow and gentle. His hand cups your face, thumb grazing your cheekbone, reminding you vividly of your first kiss. How the sounds of the festival were drowned out by the thumping of your heartbeat. Now, the classical music playing in the background is muted by the wet noises your lips make against Nanami’s mouth. His other hand slides up your thigh, fingers dangerously close to the arousal between your legs. The first time, he was holding back. This time, he’s not. He wants you.

He pulls your head back gently, lips trailing down your neck, sucking on your skin where it’s most sensitive. As if he knows exactly where to touch you to stimulate every nerve in your body. He slides under your blouse, fingers grazing the bulge of your belly. Feeling insecure, you grab his wrist and push his hand away. He stops to ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I just…I just ate, so I’m a bit bloated,” you confess. “Feeling a little self-conscious.”

With another kind expression, he says, “I understand. I won’t touch you there.” He returns to your thigh, kissing your neck once more, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “You are beautiful. I hope one day you’ll let me worship every part of your gorgeous body.”

Your insecurity is quickly overtaken by the need to feel him on every inch of your bare skin. Without thinking, you take his hand and slip it beneath your blouse, allowing him to touch you there now. Why did you even bother trying to resist him?

He laughs softly. “Good girl.”

Hearing him utter those words as he touches has your pussy throbbing. There’s nothing else on your mind except feeling him all over you. Feeling him inside you. He squeezes your breast, his thumb flicking your nipple over the fabric of your bra.

“Want to move into the bedroom?”

Without a second thought, you answer, “Yes.”

~~~

Fingers entwined with hers, he takes her into his room, watching as she lies on his king-sized bed. He straddles her, hands at the hem of her shirt. “Can I undress you?”

She nods, sitting up to help him strip her, her upper body exposed except for the bra covering her breasts. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable; he can tell she’s a bit nervous, despite the obvious desire in her eyes. Most importantly, he wants this to be an enjoyable experience. “Is it okay if I take your bra off?”

She gulps loudly before breathing out, “Yes.”

He wraps his arms around her, fingers grasping for the clasp. She kisses him hastily, lightly nipping at his lower lip, his dick growing stiffer inside his pants. She reaches for him, palming his strained cock until he’s uncomfortable hard against the fabric. When her bra finally comes lose, he tugs it off her body, tossing it to the floor, admiring her bare bosom.

“Can I suck on your nipples?” he huffs, his patience wearing thin. “Do you like that?”

“Yes, I really like that.”

She really likes it, she says. Good to know. He squeezes her breast, sucking on her nipple. His free hand massages the other, pinching it lightly until he it’s perky against his fingertips. He circles his thumb around it as he continues to work her tits, making lewd noises as he releases her with a wet pop, only to latch onto her again, sucking harder. She moans, his cock twitching with every erotic sound that comes out of her salacious mouth.

Nipple plump on his tongue, he moves to the other one, sucking until she squirms beneath him, whimpering in pleasure. Still completely clothed, he loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt, stripping until he’s naked from the waist up. Her fingers trail his abs, then down to the skin right above the hem of his pants. Once she unbuckles his belt, he slides out of his pants until he is clad only in his briefs, her focus on the obvious bulge protruding from his underwear. She undresses, keeping just her panties on. He leans over to kiss her passionately, letting his hands explore her body freely, cherishing every soft curve of her glorious figure.

He’s been dreaming about this. Ever since their first kiss, he’s thought about her every night. The way she tastes on his lips. How soft her skin is on his rough hands. He would fantasize about the different positions they would try, the sounds she would make if he ever got the chance to pleasure her. Every second they spend together, his feelings for her grow stronger and stronger. He’s never felt like this with anyone else. That’s why he doesn’t want to screw it up. He wants nothing more than to pleasure her, make her feel comfortable and safe with him.

He breaks away to catch his breath. “Is this okay?”

She smiles, cupping his cheek. “Yes. This is more than okay.”

“We don’t have to go any further, we can stop here,” he suggests. He really doesn’t want to, but he will if she does.

“Do you want to stop?” There’s a naughty look in her eyes, as if she’s teasing him.

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

Electricity surges through his body, ready to burst. His fingers reach for her panties, rubbing her clit through the cloth. “Can I touch you here?”

“Yes, Nanami. Fuck.”

His cock twitches at the sound of her cursing. This is one his fantasies, hearing filthy words come out her sweet, innocent mouth. He slips his middle finger past the fabric, sliding it up and down her wet folds, circling her clit, cock rigid underneath his briefs. Feeling her like this is better than he ever imagined. A dream come true.

“Show me. I want to see how big you are for me,” she purrs into his ear.

His eyes widen at her suggestion. Fuck. He won’t be able to last if she keeps saying things like this in her sexy voice. He shoves his briefs down his thighs, letting his hard cock flop against his abdomen.

“Fuck, Nanami. You’re so big. Can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Losing his composure, he mutters, “Fuck, baby. Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

He lets out a huff. “Okay. I can’t believe we’re really doing this.” He reaches for his nightstand, grabbing a condom and lube from the drawer. When she sees him opening the packet, she grabs his wrist. “You don’t have to put that on. I’m on birth control, remember?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want to feel you come inside me.”

“Fuck.” He pours lube onto his palm, stroking his erection. She watches hungrily as he positions himself at her wet slit, guiding it in smoothly, her pussy clenching him every inch he slides in. When he bottoms out, he stays still, waiting for her body to adjust to his size. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she breathes out.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He thrusts slowly, savoring how incredible she feels around him. It takes everything in his willpower not to come yet. She wraps her legs around his waist, arms linked behind his neck. That beautiful smile flashes across her face, making him tingly all over his body. He really likes her.

His pace picks up, drawing out small moans from her sweet lips. He’s close, but he wants to make her orgasm first. He reaches down to rub her puffy clit with his thumb, the sudden sensation causing her to buck up towards him. Her reaction encourages him to thrust into her faster, moving his thumb relentlessly over the sensitive spot.

“Fuck, Nanami. I’m going to come,” she whimpers.

“Come for me, princess. Come all over my cock.”

She tightens, her body squeezing him until she climaxes. After her high, she relaxes her grip on him, eyes glazed over, grinning. When he tries to pull out, she stops him. “Don’t. Keep going until you come. Please.”

It doesn’t take long; he thrusts into her a few more times until he releases inside her, filling her up. As he pulls out, cum drips out of her slit, an erotic sight he’ll never tire of seeing. He collapses beside her, steadying his breath. She turns to him, sliding her arm over his chest, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. Cuddling closer to her, he whispers, “Thank you.”

She laughs. “Thank you, too.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, the silence comfortable, their bodies cozy snuggled together. Before they end up falling asleep, Nanami sits up and announces, “I’ll be back.” He disappears into the bathroom, rummaging his cupboard for the unscented baby wipes he bought a few days ago. When he returns, he crawls back in bed next to his girlfriend and takes out a few wipes.

“Wow, you’re so prepared!” she exclaims, taking the wipes from him to clean herself.

“I figured these would be good to have, just in case. If you want, we can take a shower together before we sleep. You can wear my clothes.”

“I can’t sleep over. Ren is going to freak out if I don’t come home.”

Slightly disappointed, he responds, “Oh, okay.”

Sensing this, she kisses him on the cheek. “I promise. Next time, I will sleep over. Just gotta get Ren’s approval first.”

“You’re such a good sister,” he smirks.

“And when Ren moves into the dorms in a couple of weeks, we can do whatever we want, wherever we want.”

“I’d like that.”

After she’s cleaned up, she changes back into her clothes. Nanami puts on a new pair of clean briefs to walk her to the door. “Call me when you’re home, okay?”

“I will.”

They hug each other tightly before saying goodbye. Exhausted from his orgasm, Nanami goes straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for sleep. As he lies in bed, under the very blanket they just had sex on, he moves his head to the pillow. The one she was sprawled out on as he made her come. He takes a deep breath with his nose pressed against it, inhaling her sweet scent. He feels his arousal growing beneath his briefs, thinking about the way his cum trickled out of her.

He smiles to himself, reaching down to stroke his hard cock, realizing he doesn’t have to go off fantasies anymore.

Taglist: @chiyoso

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sweet like honey #a bento for kento

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heyjude19-writing · 4 months

Note

I really enjoyed that u made a drarry starter kit/guide to reading that genre. Can u by chance make one for dramione (pls plug in when i should maybe read ur works, cuz all i see is so much praise for it! and im so excited)

happy new year !

Happy new year anon, and I'm more than happy to put this together! A quick disclaimer: I won't be recommending any dark fics. I’m not much of a dark fic reader myself and unless that’s something a reader specifically asks for, it’s not what I’d recommend starting with for dramione, especially if you’re new to the pairing. As always, read/write what you want, this is a purely subjective list. It’s also doomed to be incomplete/lacking. This ship is 20-plus years old at this point, there are more than 20,000 fics on Ao3 alone, which doesn’t account for the FFN-only fics as well as those lost to FFN purges and deleted LJ communities over the years (pours one out for Hawthorn and Vine). Don’t be afraid to fall down an older fic rabbit hole, there’s loads out there if you don’t mind looking.

Let’s start with fics that focus on Draco putting in the work to earn his redemption.

The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy is a Deathly Hallows rewrite and an excellent way to ease into this ship.

Once you've read that, come on over to the post-war side of things where we completely disregard the epilogue:

Remain Nameless

Wait and Hope followed immediately by Beginning and End

Apple Pies and Other Amends

The Eagle's Nest

Graveyard Valentine

Avalanche

Somewhere Down the Line

Not Fond of Asking

commit this to memory

Waifs and Strays

Tin Angel

Okay, now that you’re convinced Draco has the potential to even approach Hermione and that they could eventually be a couple, here are some more plot-driven fics.

Love and Other Historical Accidents

Heavy Lies the Crown

Distance

Enekpe’s Clock

Between Certifiable and Bliss

Carpathian

Looking Glass

Five Days

Okay, now you’re fully sold on these two and want to run the gamut of tropes, ratings, and story length:

Out of Order

Mutually Beneficial

Movements, Contrived and Improvised

He Becomes

Les Pelerins

The Alkahest

In These Silent Days

What You Think is Right

Boardwalk

Well Said, Hermione

Strange Birds

Mugglefied

The Seduction

Sex Ed

Breath Mints / Battle Scars

Ardent Bonds

Ordinary People

Ways and Means

Draco Malfoy’s Halfway House for Wayward Hens

Out of Mind

Celestial Navigation

I also want to acknowledge my FFN roots, since the first ever dramione fic I read was called their room. Some more FFN fics:

Macbeth

Fallen

The Mountain and the Sea

Bus Stop

Eight and Eighth

One Day in Autumn

Okay, that's probably more than enough to get people started 😅. Happy reading anon!

#dramione #dramione fic rec list #fic recs #seriously i could have added dozens more

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nilolol30 · 6 months

Note

can you do a sleepwalking oneshot for either sun wukong or mk and reader wakes up to see it and gets them back to their bed safely?

(I'll do you one better B O T H I'm sorta assuming it's romantic if not I'll rewrite it if you want)

Mk asked if you'd sleep over even suggesting it being a date if you wanted so you two are now currently together on his small bed the TV was playing the movie credits long forgotten as you both slept though the whole thing it was okay he already watched that movie three times.

But a small noise woke Mk up he grumbled sitting up to look around and saw you standing up in front of the bed facing the bathroom door you looked wide awake but it sorta felt off "Hey whatcha doing?" He rubbed his eyes and turned off the TV.

"Going to the kitchen" You resumed your walking but you were going to the bathroom Mk had a second of realization and gently grabbed your shoulder and gently maneuvers you to turn around.

"Why don't you go to the kitchen tomorrow hm?" Lucky him you nodded and put yourself back to bed Mk laid next to you making a mental note to tell you in the morning just in case you didn't know you do that.

He was just about to fall back asleep he could hear you start mumbling something he could only pick up a few words like 'clocks' and 'piano tiles' he laughed a little and rubbed your back while you slowly quieted down after just a minute you stopped and turned around to pull him in a hug.

Happily Mk hugged you back he leaned down for a sec to grab the blanket to cover you both he leaned back and you propped your head on his chest Mk smiled and put his chin on top of your head and slowly fell back to sleep.

Wukong

It was a bit of a long day for the both of you Wukong had a long day of training with Mk and you had some trouble with your homes plumbing the water had to be shut off for a few days hence Wukong saying you can just stay at his place and slightly offering you to move in.

Letting out a loud yawn Wukong rolled over in his bed arms reached out to hold you but he didn't feel anything he felt around and then opened his eye to see that you weren't in bed he sat up and looked around the room only the little monkeys that joined in on the 'sleepover' where here.

There was a small tap at his feet getting the sage's attention one of the monkeys was pointing to the hallway Wukong gave the little one a pat on the head for the help and headed towards the direction.

And there you were in the middle of opening the door to go outside you didn't even put on shoes "Hey sleepyhead forgot to put on some shoes? Why are you going outside at this time?" Wukong slowly approached you about to give you a hug from behind.

"They took my.." The last part of what you said wasn't even audible Wukong hums "Who took what? Nobody can even get close here well not without me knowing heh!" He slid his way past you to stand Infront of you getting a better look.

You looked half asleep eyes barely open and he even see you wobbling a bit "Took the...I didn't pack my fog yet" You turned halfway now facing the doorframe Wukong put his hand against your forehead just before you walked into it.

"You're sleepwalking let's go put you back to bed" he couldn't help but laugh a little as he slowly led you back to bed helping you avoid stepping on some of the little monkeys sleeping on the floor and pulling the blanket over you then settling himself back down next to you.

"Good thing I got to you before you actually left the house huh" Wukong wrapped his arms around you this way he'd know if you'd get up now.

"...I'm so teasing you when you wake up though"

#monkie kid #lmk x reader #lmk mk x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #monkie kid x reader

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writing-the-stars · 1 year

Note

May I request a (Wednesday Addams x fem reader) where reader visits Wednesday’s house, and they get caught cuddling by Morticia and so Wednesday throws reader off of her, and denies anything happened, but Morticia won’t let it go and teases her? Have a good day and thanks for reading my request. :]

Untitled

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x GN!Reader

Summary: Wednesday indulges in a moment of vulnerability

Warnings: Rushed Ending. Not As Well Executed As I Would Like.

Word Count: 529

A/N: The amount of rewrites this little blurb underwent is ridiculous! Every time I'd start writing I'd get halfway through, think it was stupid, and completely erase everything I had written. I am now just forcing myself to post this because I know it will probably never get posted if I don't. I'm sorry you had to wait so long and I hope it's not too much of a letdown. Thank you for reading!

Masterlist

Wednesday lay stiffly by your side– arms awkwardly wrapped around your frame as you held her close to you. Physical affection was something the macabre girl was still attempting to grow accustomed to, having previously only maintained physical contact to maim someone. Touching someone with such tenderness and intimacy felt foreign to the psychic, but she could not deny the odd sense of security she felt being encased in your arms.

Wednesday heeded her mother’s warning about the dangers of her psychic abilities. She felt the pressure of losing herself to the darkness of her visions every day. The threat of being driven to isolation never bothered the raven-haired girl before, but now that she has begrudgingly found herself attached to people she did not want to lose, remaining balanced was a grueling battle she was intent on resulting victorious.

The grounding of your arms helped with this ambition as you seemed to deflect feelings of distrust. You had always been a steadfast resource for the Addams girl. Never questioning her dubious midnight expeditions or unsavory schemes. You had always proven yourself faithful to her– a constant companion she had not realized she wanted until you. You made it easy for her to breathe, to allow herself small moments of vulnerability she could only ever share with you.

It was gratifying to have moments like these. Moments where she did not feel the need to hide behind her biting wit and cold wall of apathy she had built around herself– not that she would ever admit that to anyone but herself. You provide her with a sense of safety she realizes she has been lacking.

Being with you has begun opening her eyes to the logic behind what she once believed was her mother’s foolish decision. While she would never give up her own ambitions in life to be a housewife, she could see what lured her mother in. Though again, she rather act as a human doll for Enid than let anyone else know this. The infuriating smirk donning her mother’s lips when she brought you home this evening was enough of an “I told you so” for Wednesday to last the rest of her life.

Of course, as Wednesday was starting to learn since her arrival to Nevermore, she could not always get what she wanted, and as her bedroom door creaked open– the slim frame of her mother lurking in the doorway– she knew she would be haunted by this moment forever. Still, the raven-haired girl thrusts your body off of hers in a futile attempt to preserve some of her pride.

“Wednesday!” you exclaim– body thumping against the hardwood of her bedroom floor.

Morticia raises a thinly shaped eyebrow– that maddening knowing smirk adorning her lips.

“I was attempting to show them how to suffocate someone,” Wednesday announces, the pathetic excuse for a lie the first thing her brain could conjure in her disconcerted state.

“I see. And with affection no less,” Morticia replies, a teasing grin decorating her features.

A giggle escapes your lips as Wednesday’s pallor rouges just the slightest tint. Her wicked mother will lure this over her head for all eternity.

#wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday fanfic #wednesday fandom #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x gn!reader #fandom writing #fandom #fanfic #wednesday addams blurb

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wolfjackle-creates · 1 year

Text

I'll Carry Your Heart with Me (Until I Find You Again): Part 3

And this is the third and final part of my hundred follower celebratory writing. The fic will continue past this, but it will be a while before I can return to it. I want to get back to Ghost!Robin and Bring Me Home first. This was a blast to write, though.

The angst starts here. Parts 1 and 2 were fun and fluffy. But things take a turn here. And it'll be quite a while before our boys can get back to happier times.

Mostly Jason POV with a short section from Danny's.

3.8k words. There wasn't a great place to break it up.

First, Previous

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Jason sighed as Danny flew out of his range of awareness, leaving him alone in his lair again. Though… he touched his lips which still tingled with cold and smiled to himself. At least this time he was left with some pleasant memories.

Turning his back to the swirling void, he entered the brick building that housed the most important parts of his home from before. Ignoring the kitchen, he walked through a door and into his bedroom. It was the only place he had yet to show Danny.

Though maybe he should change that?

He flopped down on his bed and touched his lips again before rolling over and burying his face in his pillow. God, he felt like a teenage girl. Was this why Dick liked to meet up with girls? Jason had kissed girls a few times before, but with Danny… It just felt so much better.

Maybe it was because his mouth was cool? Kissing him felt like a drink of fresh spring water on a hot day. Or perhaps it was the way they could project their feelings while kissing. And not needing to breathe was definitely nice.

He sighed and moved until he was staring up at the ceiling. How in all the realms was Danny interested in him? A dumb kid who got in over his head and died because of it.

Danny was still alive, too. With a sigh, he pushed himself up. He didn’t want his thoughts to go this way—he wanted to bask in their first kisses some more.

Would Danny get too old for him?

Alfred would have been able to set him right. Let him know if this was doomed from the start or if he might actually have something. And Dick… Well, first he’d tease. But after. They’d go to the gym and when he was tired out and sweaty, they’d go and get milkshakes or something and Dick would give surprisingly helpful advice. The type he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask Alfred or Bruce.

Bruce would be insufferable, of course. He’d insist on researching everything he could about Danny. Would probably stalk him, too. But after he was convinced Danny wasn’t trying to take advantage, he’d tell Jason to invite him for dinner. He thought they’d probably get along, too. While their personalities were quite different, their morals were a perfect match.

But no. He’d never get any of that. Because he had to be an idiot and die.

Though… did death have to be permanent? Danny had come back after all. And hadn’t several members of the Justice League died at one point before returning to life?

Could he do that?

Restless now, he got out of bed and made his way to the gym. These were the types of thoughts that only made sense when he was doing something physical. One routine in particular was his “thinking routine.” His dad would always call Alfred in if he saw Jason doing this one. How would he be able to come back?

Most of the stories he heard required something happen to the body on Earth. But he didn’t have that option. He was limited to the Infinite Realms. But… these lands were infinite. There had to be someone or something here that could help him. Maybe there’d be some information in Ghost Writer’s lair? What other ghosts had Danny told him about?

And then he remembered: Desiree. He froze, leg in the air as he was halfway through a kick. If he’d still been human, he would’ve fallen on his face.

Desiree had been able to rewrite reality so that Danny and Sam had never met. In doing so, she’d erased his death from ever happening. If she could do that, bringing Jason back from the dead would have to be a piece of cake. So long as he phrased his wish correctly.

Now that he had a new mission, he fell out of his fighting stance and made his way to the library. He had a wish with a genie to craft.

-----

With how time never seemed to work right in the Realms, Jason wasn’t sure how long it took him to craft his wish. But he finally had it. And this one shouldn’t backfire on him.

I wish I was alive again with a healthy body and intact mind.

Though he did continue trying to think it through. Would it be possible to twist this one? If it was, Desiree would find away. At least if Danny’s stories could be believed. And Ember and Kitty insisted that Danny downplayed his stories more than anything.

Which was hard to believe, even as a former Robin.

Now he had to find Desiree. And as much as he wracked his brain, he didn’t think Danny had given him any sort of clue as to where her lair might be located. And he didn’t want to just ask someone straight out. They’d try and dissuade him from going. Even worse since the only ghosts he really knew were ones Danny introduced him to. Apparently it was normal for a ghost to not leave their lair much for the first few years after death, so he hadn’t yet done much exploring of the Realms.

Though Danny had once tried to sketch him a vague map. Apparently things in the Realms had a tendency to move around a lot, but clusters did form among people of similar background. Medieval European ghosts clustered together in one area, Kryptonians could be found somewhere else, and so on.

Now, where did the ghosts from the Middle East gather? He looked over the map Danny had given him and chewed his lip as he tried to figure out where things were in relation to him. No sun or cardinal directions made it so much harder to orient anything. Which was probably the point.

But he did have some anchors to recognize. After being to Ghost Writer’s domain, he could find that again. And he’d once gone to visit Kitty and Johnny with Danny. So that was another point of reference.

Finally, he thought he had at least enough of an idea to get close. It would have to do, though Bruce would have insisted on more research.

But Bruce wasn’t here which was the entire point.

Well, that and he didn’t want Danny to get older and not want to date or kiss him anymore. It’d be fine for a few years, but what about when Danny was twenty or forty or whatever and Jason was still the same fifteen year old kid?

He shook his head. That didn’t matter because he’d be able to grow up, too. Dick would be there to tease him about his boyfriend. And Alfred would give him a hug and his favorite meal. And Bruce would help him finish school and get into a good college and would celebrate every passing grade with him.

With those pleasant thoughts, he exited his lair. He gave it one last look before setting off in the direction he believed would lead him to Desiree.

He hadn’t been traveling very long when he approached a lair who’s ghost was sending off such strong stay-away vibes that Jason was forced to go around. Putting him quite far off course. The ghost must have been strong to control such a large area of the Zone.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to reorient himself to get back on track.

Which is when he heard a menacing chuckle from behind him. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the whelp’s friend. You’d make such good bait. With you at the center of my trap, I may actually catch the boy and finally get his pelt for my wall.”

Jason spun, Robin costume appearing as he did. Behind him, his cape flared. “And you must be Skulker. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I’m sure you have.” Although his face was just a mecha suit, it grinned viciously. “But you will not find me so easy to escape.” Compartments on Skulker’s shoulders opened and a flurry of small missiles flew out at him.

A wave of Jason’s hand brought up a shield that easily deflected the projectiles. He turned invisible and quickly changed position, sending his own ectoblasts back at Skulker. After months of sparing with Danny, he knew how to handle himself in a ghost fight. He could even hold his own against Johnny when he came to visit.

Of course, fighting with Skulker was not on the agenda for today. He just wanted to get to Desiree.

“Can’t you see that I have better things to do today? Go bug Ember or something!” shouted Jason.

The only response he got was another missile sent his way. Only this one tracked him. Reaching into his core, Jason sent out a burst of flame, exploding it before it could get too close. There had to be something he could do to end this battle sooner rather than later.

At the very least, he could get some distance between himself and Skulker. He retreated a bit, wishing that the Realms had more cover instead of being mostly open void.

And then he felt it. The stay-away feeling from the lair he’d avoided earlier. Skulker shouted something else, though Jason didn’t bother to pay attention to the words. Instead, he made his way closer to the lair. To his satisfaction, Skulker followed.

It wouldn’t do to project his own presence, so Jason pulled in on his power, keeping it coiled tightly around his core. He focused hard on not projecting any emotions. Danny taught him how to hide his presence from other ghosts in order to prank Dani who had tagged along to visit.

Now, to make Skulker really mad. Jason turned to face his attacker and stuck out his tongue and waved his hands next to his head. “Na, na, na, na, na, na!” he called.

“Whelp!” roared the other ghost as he pulled out a huge bazooka and shot several blasts.

Jason immediately turned invisible and pulled his aura in even tighter, flying away from his position as fast as possible.

Not even a moment later, a loud booming voice called out, “Who disturbs my peace?”

Jason didn’t wait to see what sort of ghost it was, he just focused on escaping. After who-knows-how-long flying, he slowed down and looked around. He couldn’t see Skulker anywhere. More cautiously, he let his aura expand again. There were some ghosts around, but none of them felt aggressive or seemed to pay him any mind.

Now he had to figure out where he was and how far off course he’d gotten. Looking around, the doors and buildings he could see all looked old. Stone walls and thatched roofs. Weathered wooden doors. So he was in the territory of older ghosts. Excellent. Though the architecture definitely looked more European than Middle Eastern.

He pushed on. No way was he going to turn back now.

After passing who knows how many lairs, he stopped for a moment to try and get his bearings. Obviously just continuing on was not going to work.

“Thine garb is unlike any I have seen,” commented a voice from behind him.

Jason spun and came face-to-face with an elderly woman who he couldn’t help but describe as matronly. Her dress was extremely old and she had a head wrap, though wisps of shadow instead of hair were just visible under the fabric.

“No, ma’am. I’m just passing through.”

“A pilgrimage? Where dost thou go?”

“I… yeah. I’m on a pilgrimage. I’m trying to find the Middle Eastern ghosts. Er… Constantinople? The Ottoman Empire?” He had no ideas what the countries would have been called back when this woman had been alive and hoped he got wasn’t completely off. “In life, I had some teachers from that area and I wanted to see if I could learn more in death.”

She nodded in understanding. “Much can be learned in death that life left no time for. But thou hast been turned around. Thine destination is not in this direction.”

“Can you direct me?”

She smiled. “Certainly.”

Though once she started explaining the path, Jason sent out a few curses to the ancients. Why couldn’t things stay still in the Realms? From their current position, he was supposed to go down until he came to a lair which was a stone tower that flew red flags. Then he had to spin in a circle clockwise five times. When he stopped, he might be facing Queen Dora’s city. In that case, he had to fly in the opposite direction.

But he might also end up facing a fortress made of black stones and guarded by skeletons. If that happened, he should go left. If he found himself facing a forest with a waterfall, he should continue straight past it.

And for each option, another half dozen instructions followed. Thank the ancients Bruce had tested him on memorizing complicated directions constantly as Robin. He wasn’t sure how else he would have found the way.

“Thank you,” he said once she had finished.

“May thine journey bring thee peace.” And she was gone.

Jason repeated her instructions, going straight down until he saw the tower with the red flags. He spun. And found himself facing a medieval European city with a black and purple dragon flying in circles over it. On her head was a golden crown: Queen Dora. He turned his back to the city and flew in the opposite direction.

It took so long to come across the next landmark he was told to look out for that he was afraid he had done something wrong. But he had no other guide, so he kept going.

And eventually he found it. And the next one. And the one after that.

And finally, he noticed a change in the architecture. The towers became more graceful. The materials they were made of changed.

“Desiree!” he called.

No one answered. He kept going.

Every so often he would call her name. He let his aura spread to see if he could sense any powerful ghosts. The few ghosts that were around disappeared as soon as they heard her name leave his mouth.

For the first time, he started to wonder if this was a bad idea.

Just when he was about to give it up and turn around, a presence made itself known.

Amusement, curiosity, entertainment surrounded him.

The mix of emotions sent a jolt of fear up his spine. It felt so similar to how The Joker would laugh when he got them in a trap. How he laughed when he laid that last trap; the glee he projected as he smashed Jason’s bones with a crowbar.

“Who calls me?” echoed a woman’s voice in the void around him.

Jason forced his back to remain straight as he faced the direction he could sense the presence in. “My name is Jason! Jason Todd and I have a wish.”

Smoke gathered before him forming into a giant woman with long black hair and bright green skin. She smiled at him; it sent shivers down Jason’s spine. “Lucky for you, wishes are my domain. What do you wish for, Jason Todd?”

If he still had a heart, it would be beating fast in his chest. As it was, he was glad he didn’t have to breathe. Far easier to hide how much he was starting to regret this journey.

But no. He needed to do this. All his reasons for being here still existed. It was far too late to turn back now. “I wish I was alive again with a healthy body and mind intact.”

“So you have wished it, so shall it be!” Desiree waved her hands and Jason was surrounded in a wave of power. It twined around him. He was spinning and wind tore at his clothes. He slammed his eyes shut as laughter echoed in the tornado. He curled up, trying to protect himself from the unrelenting power.

And then everything was silent. It was dark and he was lying on his back. He pushed up and yelped when his head hit something hard right above his head. Where was he? What was going on? He banged on the top of the box he was in.

He needed out. He pushed and screamed. Something shifted and he pushed harder. It was cold, why was it so cold? Something broke above his head and he coughed as dust fell into his mouth. He closed his eyes and mouth tight and kept pushing. The surface gave. It poured down on him, but he pushed his way up.

Nothing could keep him trapped. Never again. When had he been trapped before? Where was he? He pushed through and his hand reached the other side of whatever he’d been trapped in. He pushed more. His other hand was free. He grasped and pulled himself free.

And finally he could breathe. And see. Someone was supposed to be here. Where were they? Why hadn’t they come for him? He needed to find them. They were here. They had to be. They wouldn’t have abandoned him. Not again.

Where were they? Where Were They?!

He pulled himself up. He stumbled. He kept going. He had to find them. The person, people?, who were supposed to be here. Why weren’t they here?

He took one step after another. They were nearby. A person! Right ahead! Was that them? No. It wasn’t. They were wrong! Why were they here? He pushed them away. They weren’t supposed to be here. They weren’t the right person. He kept going.

But everyone he found was not right. Why weren’t they right? Where were they?

The world got brighter. More people came out. They still weren’t right. It got dark. Where was he? Why was everything wrong?

Another wrong person. He tried to punch them. Only this time, his fist didn’t connect. They said something. The voice was wrong. He tried to kick, but that was stopped to. More people surrounded him.

His arms were pinned back. Then his legs. He couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move? He tried to scream. Something was shoved in his mouth. He couldn’t scream. He struggled. He needed to get free. He needed to find the right person. Where were they? Where were they?

The world went black. When it lightened again, he saw a pool of green.

Green was safe. Green meant home and peace and an end to the fighting and the fear and the pain. He struggled, needing to get to it. But he couldn’t move his arms and his legs. And people were touching him. Surrounding him. Still the wrong people.

He thrashed and tried to scream. He wanted the right people. And suddenly he could move again. The people ran away from him. But that was fine. He didn’t want them near him. His legs hurt. And walking felt strange. But he stumbled forward. He needed to get to the green.

He sunk down deep and let the green take over. He breathed it in and everything made sense. This was right. This was home. The woman who brought him here was the right person. She was green and green was peace.

But when the green faded, all he saw was red. Red all over his hands and his arms and his clothes.

And he was so, so cold.

-----

Less than a week after their date (yes Jazz, he could admit it was a date now) at Ghost Writer’s lair, Danny returned to spend more time with his boyfriend. His boyfriend.

Only… when he got there, Jason’s lair was empty and abandoned. The island was entirely gone, leaving just the door. When he opened it, a layer of dust covered everything. The kitchen was filled with moldy food. Water overflowed the blocked sink. He floated above the floor, not wanting to step in the mess. What had happened? Where was Jason? The library. He had to be there. His hand shook as he turned the doorknob.

The mess in the library was almost worse. All the books had been knocked off their shelves and lay haphazardly all over the floor—spines broken and pages torn and bent. Jason hated damaging a book.

“No. No,” he whispered. This wasn’t real. A ghost’s lair reflected their state of being. Jason was okay. He had to be.

He backed out of the library. The gym. Jason always went there when he was upset. Only the gym was empty, too. It was in just as awful of shape. The punching bag had been split and it’s sand spilled over the floor. The weights were tossed about, the floor cracked under where they’d fallen.

There was only one more room. The only room Danny had never been in before.

With shaking hands, he opened the door to Jason’s bedroom. Clothes were strewn around the floor, torn and dirty. The bed was messy, but something was glowing under the covers.

He let himself land on the floor. He needed the connection to the world. Nothing felt real. The clothes piled on the floor meant his footsteps were silent, though his breaths echoed loud in his ears. It seemed to take forever to reach the bed.

His hand shook as he reached for the blankets and pulled them back one by one. Under the last one he saw what looked like a smoldering, black coal.

Jason’s core.

“No.”

Danny instinctively took a step back. That couldn’t be Jason. It couldn’t. He didn’t know how long he stared at the burning coal. He had to move. He stepped forward again and sunk to his knees by the bed. He reached forward and gently touched the core. It was barely warm to his touch.

It should have been an inferno. Jason burned so brightly. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t breathe. He fell the rest of the way down, face pressed into the dirty, dusty sheets. He flared his aura.

The core felt like Jason. It was him.

Danny pushed himself up enough to cradle it gently in his hands. How could Jason be so small? He held him to his chest and curled around him. Whatever happened, he’d make it better. He’d find out who had hurt Jason and he’d make them pay.

His eyes burned and the world grew blurry as he cried, curled around Jason’s comatose form.

-----

So, don't @ me about the "intact mind" thing. I will address that later in the fic. I promise it's not a plot hole!

Tag List

@britcision, @echoednonny, @adorablechaos, @letoasai, @saphjack, @emergentpanda-blog

#dpxdc #danny fenton #jason todd #desiree (dp)#dead on main #angst #and now the happy times are over #jason and danny both have some long roads ahead of them #i apologize for butchering the early modern english i had the guide ghost speaking #things will get worse before they get better #but they will get better #they just have to earn their happy endings #i honestly planned to stop writing after the kiss #but the rest of this flowed so easily that i had to continue

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memoriesoftanalorr · 11 days

Text

I'm the sickest person (Feyd Rautha x Female Reader)

Note: Hmm, I feel weird but my mind came up spontaneous short story once again. Gonna make it quite a little intimate, huh that's something new. But don't worry. I'm out of the character tonight. Lately listening to Lansdowne Falling down song and it's seems to suits to this guy or halfway. Wanna write angsty and soft Feyd. Sorry I didn't watched yet, actually I watched the beginning of Dune part two. Going to rewrite it later on. I think I'm mess up.

Summary: Y/n was an a Princess of House Vernius, the youngest in the family, as time come to nominate heir to the throne of her family, her cousin becoming princess and Y/n lost her rank and been exiled from her femily on forever. Later, Y/n was kidnapped by some of the people of House Harkonnen. She's faced Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. Y/n wasn't afraid of him and didn't cared of her fate much but Feyd decided to take you to his home planet. Perhaps he's was curious about you and later fall in love with you.

Warnings: Attempt of suicide, some little intimate moment but also fluff. I'm sorry guys.

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I could be an angel Live under the law Or party with the devil 'Til hell begins to thaw Come in like a lion And riot with my prey Or go out nice and quiet And try to run away

I can wear the brightest Smile ever seen Or I can terrify you Baring all my teeth I'm the sickest person That looks like I'm okay It changes with the weather Changes every day I don't know who I am

Falling down again Trying to get up From where I've always been But nothing's been enough To break through these clouds When I'm stuck on the ground Falling down again, down again Falling down again

I could be your best friend And keep your secret safe Or I can play pretend, and Be completely fake Do my best to be good And try to do what's right But the truth is that I'm ruthless And every word's a lie

Falling down again Trying to get up From where I've always been But nothing's been enough To break through these clouds When I'm stuck on the ground Falling down again, down again Falling down again

I could be an angel I could be an angel I could be an angel But I don't want to die

Falling down again Trying to get up From where I've always been But nothing's been enough To break through these clouds When I'm stuck on the ground Falling down again, down again Falling down again

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Y/n failed at her duties, she felt sorrow because she's an a disappointment for her family. Your father approaching you in the conference room. "You're not a heir of the throne, it's will be your cousin. You're such a disappointment and a shame for your family." he said. "But I tried so hard to make you proud of me. I'm sorry." you spoke quietly. "You'll never comeback here. Leave now." he said coldly. "Please let me stay! Don't leave me alone!" Tears flowing down your face. Your father walked towards the window. "Save your tears. You should've thought about it before you're made such a mistake." "But I love you but seems you're don't love me." you whispered.

Hour later you're packed your bags and leave the Residence, you noticed your cousin smiling evily. "I'm the Princess now and you're no one." she laughed at you. "I'm sick of you all!" Y/n pushed her cousin's shoulder while walking towards her. "Bye, bye. Nobody's gonna miss you." she insulted. Y/n clenched her fists in anger and pain. "I hate them all."

As you make your way off the planet, the ship was attacked by someone, you could see armoured people and bald tall man with a pale skin. "What are you doing?" you shouted to one of the Harkonnen soldiers who grabbed your arm and pushing you on the ground. "I'm from the Royal Family, how dare you!" Y/n shout out to them. "As I knew you're not anymore." A man made a wicked smile. You glanced at him shocked. "So this was a part of the plan? To sold me as slave?" Y/n thought. "From now on you're mine." Feyd Rautha spoke. "I'm don't belong to anyone! I'd rather die!" Y/n grabbed the knife from one of the Harkonnen people rapidly and cutting her own arm, blood began to flowing down on the ground. You began to feel yourself dizzy, everything blurred and you lost consciousness. Feyd caughted you from falling. "Get her a doctor." Feyd ordered to his people.

Some hours later, Y/n woke up in the bed and the surrounding was unknown to her, she blinked several times and then glanced at the man sitting at the edge of the bed. "Uhm, where I am and who are you?" you asked in a kow voice. "You're at planet Giedi Prime right now. My name is Feyd Rautha Harkonnen." he replied. "Oh, now I remember what happened… Why you're saved me? I don't want to live." Y/n turned away from him and covered herself into blanket crying. "I wondering if I am the reason of your attempt of suicide?" Feyd squeezed your hand gently. "How would you feel if your family throw you away as a worthless thing?" Y/n slipped her hand from his grip. "You're must be brave or either crazy for doing so. You're beautiful as well." he made a smug smile. Y/n glanced at her bandaged arm. "I didn't feel pain honestly. I was so mad so I didn't noticed that." you confessed. "I'm bet you felt adrenaline. You need a good rest now. See you Miss Y/n." he smiled. "How do you---?" you rises your head in surprise. "I know few things about you." Feyd answered and then leaves the room.

Giedi Prime was dark and gloomy planet and people there was cruel and menacing. Y/n didn't liked that planet much. Week later you arm recovered and Feyd checked on you. "How are you doing?" he asked you. "My arm recovered completely." Y/n replied awkwardly. "Good." Feyd squeezed your arm and kisses it. Y/n blushes. "You're will be one of my concubines." Feyd Rautha added. Y/n rubbed her arm awkwardly. "Me? Why?" "Don't worry, nobody's going to hurt you." Feyd assured you. You lowered your head and sighed. "Go on, I'll show you the Residence." Feyd Rautha squeezed your hand once more.

The other day Y/n joined the other concubines of Feyd and you're feeling yourself out of place. Their smiles were menacing and when they're noticed you, they're starting giggling. Then Y/n saw Feyd among them. Y/n falled on her knees over Feyd. "Why I'm here?" you whispers to him. "Why not? You're my concubine." he leaned closer to you for kissing your neck but you're closed your eyes uncomfortably. Feyd stopped himself and the others starting giggling again. "She's so blushing." One of concubines insulted you. "Stop gossiping about new girl." Feyd replied playfully. "Can I go to my room? I feel unwell, Na-Baron." Y/n lowered her head again. "You may. I'll visit you later then." Feyd Rautha replied a bit confused. Harpies laughs again. "Perhaps she's too young. Where's did you found her? She's ugly." "Shut up!" Feyd rised his voice furiously. You could hear his voice as you leave the room. Everyone get quiet in the room. "What make him do that? Why he's standing for me?" Y/n thought.

Y/n hides in the room and went to the balcony. You feeling yourself emotionally drained. You sighed sadly. "Why my life is so hard..."

Feyd entered inside your room and joined you at the balcony. "Enjoying the view huh?" he smiled. "I needed more personal space." Y/n replied coldly. "I apologize for my girls. Probably they're being jealous of you." he made a smug smile. "I have no doubt about it. So why you're here when you have so many girls to talk to." you insulted him. "Hmm, so you're the one who's jealous now?" Feyd glanced at you. "We're just meet, don't flatter yourself much." you responded. "You should be careful with your words." he leaned closer to you. "I don't care much." you sighed again. "Then what's the matter?" he asked. "Because I don't feel anything to you! Why you're standing for me back than?" Y/n said emotionally. "I do it because you're fearless, honest and beautiful. I respect you. I want you feel yourself safe here." Feyd reaching for your hand. "I'm not like that. I'm a failure and I am broken." you whispered. "I hope you'll overcome your grieving." Feyd comforted you. "I hope so." Y/n squeezed into his chest softly. Feyd kissed your forehead and then leaves the room. "Perhaps I feel something now." you whispers to yourself.

Week later, Feyd inviting you into training room, you were wondering if it's some kind of trick of his. "That's awesome. One of my father's sword masters trained me." Y/n spoke. "Want a sparring, darling?" Feyd asked. "Hmm, why not. I'm in." you replied. "Choose a weapon." Feyd Rautha suggested. Y/n hand reached her hand towards a rapier with an a interest. And Feyd chooses Crysknife.

"Go on." You said with a cocky smile and stand in the position.

Rapier and Crysknife crossed each other and then Feyd ripped your sleeve, you stopped for a second watching your shoulder. "Hmm, you'll pay for this my dear Lord Na-Baron." Y/n make smug smile, Feyd was hypnotized by your smile and eyes for some seconds as you ripped his clothes over his chest. Your moves was gracious and smooth. "Look at your tunic, Feyd." Y/n laughted. "How dare you laughing at me!" Feyd pushed you against the wall and then kissed your in lips passionately as you dropped your rapier at the floor, you widened your eyes in surprise. After sometime Feyd stepped back from you. Y/n leaves the training room silently.

Day later. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen and Feyd have a talk and suddenly he asked his nephew about his new concubine. "Hmm, I think something is happened between you two, I am right?" he smirked. "I think she'll avoid talking to me for a while, uncle." Feyd replied. "Oh, Feyd. You know you should've be more delicate with such lady as Y/n. What you're done may I ask." Baron asked of curiosity. "I think she's will be mad at for a forceful kiss." Feyd replied. "Did she tried to push you away while your kiss her?" Baron smirked again. "No, she didn't. But she's leave the room without a word." Feyd Rautha replied honestly. "Then she likes the kiss. Perhaps I don't know her much. You should make a better impression this time." Baron made an advice to his nephew.

"I will apologize to her soon." Feyd then walked into his room.

Meanwhile, you hummed a song and standing at the balcony, that kiss was on your mind and you're trembling a bit and blushing everytime you're remembering it. Feyd entered your room and called you. "Y/n? Are you in the room?" Feyd asked. "Good morning, Feyd. I'm at the balcony." you answered calmly. "Did you eating today's morning? I didn't seen you in the dining room." he asked you. "I told the servant bringing the food in my room because I didn't sleep well last night so I just didn't feel like to go there." you replied. "Why? I thought you're mad at me for that kiss." he walked towards you. "I had a bad dream of my father." you lowered your head. "So tell me how you feel about that?" Feyd spoke. "It was a forceful kiss so I don't want anyone would forcing me this way. I hope you're understand but I'm not mad at you." Y/n rubbed her shoulder. "I'm sorry for that. As a sign of reconciliation, would you accept my gifts?" Feyd squeezed your hand. "Don't worry about that. You know nobody didn't kissed me before, perhaps our sparring was fun." Y/n giggled and embrace Feyd's neck with her arms. "I'm sorry for losing control. I can't get out your smile and your eyes off my head." he confessed. "Perhaps I'm thought a lot of that kiss as well." You bited your lips. "Take a look at my gifts if you want to." he kissed your hand. You looked at the bed and there was a beautiful purple dress and a black pendant. Y/n also saw a rapier and the handle was inlaid with precious gem stones. "Your gifts are lovely. Thank you. Should I wear this dress tonight?" you said playfully. "You can wear it at the dinner and my uncle will be there too." Feyd suggested. "I guess it'll be boring political talking huh?" Y/n jokes. "I think this dinner will be not as boring if you're come with me." he kissed your cheek. "Okay, I'll come then." Y/n made a flirty smile.

Time skip Y/n calmly approaching Feyd and his uncle wearing beautiful dress and necklace, it was like a private dinner of uncle and nephew and you. "Good evening, Baron." Y/n kissed his hand, perhaps you wasn't sure how to greeting him, either bow and kissing the end of his clothes. "What a nice young lady!" Baron chuckles. "Goid evening, my dear Lord Na-Baron Feyd Rautha." you greeted Feyd as well. "The nicest of evenings, darling." he kisses your hand. "Now, have some good dinner and after that I should talk to you both." Baron spoke.

You sat at the table next to Feyd, slaves bringing food and cutlery and then leave. You and Feyd didn't talking though you both making eye contact and you making mysterious smiles to him and then eating and drinking.

When you're finishing your meal Baron stared at you. "Can I ask you some personal questions, my dear?" Baron asked you. "I'm ready for it." Y/n glanced at Feyd's uncle. "You're from House Vernius, right? Are you from planet IX or maybe another planet?" he smirked. "I'm Ixian. I'm not belong to House Vernius anymore." you answered. "Hmm, did you know that your father wanted to sold you in a slavery?" Baron said carelessly. You rises your head in shock, "I had my suspicions about this." Feyd glanced at you concerned. "Did you knew that? Why don't you telling me that before, Feyd?" Y/n asked him emotionally. "I am the only one who knows that, dear. Don't be mad." Baron smiles menacingly. "I have no doubts about that." Y/n said biterrly. "I swear I didn't know anything about that." Feyd spoke to you. "But you know something about me, right? You said it yourself." Your voice burns into passsive aggressive tone. "I only knew your name and where you from at the time." Feyd Rautha expressed. "Excuse me, Baron. I need to go now." Y/n said coldly. "You can go." he replied. Feyd stand up and leave the dining room after you. "Excuse my uncle. I didn't know thet he would--" Feyd paused. "Hurting me… He succeed in this but I'm not going to cry." Y/n turned away from Feyd. "I'm sorry about that, darling." Feyd embrace your back. "I don't trust your uncle but I trust you." Y/n replied. "Can I lead you to your room or maybe you would like to join me in my room tonight?" he smiled. "I'll join you soon." you kissed his lips and then walked away waving to him and giving him a quick glance back.

Y/n wearing a cloak and nightgown as she's sneaking into Feyd's room. He was sitting at the couch, you greeted him. Y/n take off her cloak and sitting down next to Feyd. "This dinner wasn't as I imagined. I hope your uncle had a reason to insulting me like that." you lowered your head. "I didn't expected that either." Feyd replied. "I don't care much anymore." you closed your eyes. "You're will fall asleep now, why you're chosen a couch when I have a bed for two?" he made a flirtly smile. Y/n rised her head blushing. "I'd rather choose a couch." "Too coward to share a bed with me huh?" Feyd made a smug smile. "I'm not a coward, I'm actually too tired for arguing or proof you wrong." you yawned. "Proof me wrong." he smiled again. "I don't want to see nightmares again or wake you up. I'd rather stay up all night." you confessed. "When you're rising your head, it's a sign of that something is shocking or surprising you. When you're lowering your head you're shy or uncomfortable, right? You can be safe with me." Feyd leaned closer towards you. "It's hard for me letting someone in because my life is tough." you glanced at him. "You're my only love. I promise you." he whispers to you. "Glad to hear that. I want to believe in that at least." Y/n closed her as she smiled. Y/n laid into the bed and covered herself into a blanket, Feyd take off his clothes and laid into the bed after you. "Good night, darling." he kissed your neck. "Good night, Feyd." Y/n yawned and instinctively cuddling into his shoulder and fall asleep.

You haven't nightmares this time, when you wake up in the morning you saw Feyd laying next to you. "Good morning, darling." Feyd kissed your cheek. "Good morning, Feyd." you giggled. "How do you sleep?" he asked. "Deeply and serenely." Y/n dress up and about to leave the room. "I'll join you at the breakfast soon." Feyd spoke. "Sounds great. I'll waiting for you to come." Y/n glanced back at Feyd a bit and closed the door.

After breakfast Baron approaching you. You take a deep breath and make a slight bowing. "Hello, my dear. I apologizing for my behavior but you're should've known that." he spoke. "But still why you're should make such a masquerade?" you crossed your arms. "I'm sorry, dear. But I wanted to try to grow the doubt in your heart. I checked whether I could manipulate you, or rather your confidence in my nephew, and I lost this game because you didn’t believed me. You know what's what." Baron smirked. "I think Feyd said the truth to me last night. Tell me more about my father's plan." Y/n lowered her head. "Your father once meet with me and decided to sold you as a slave to our family. When Feyd and our soldiers found you they're just patrolling. Feyd didn't know details." "Thank you for letting me know, Baron." you made a little bowing once more. "How do you find Giedi Prime?" Baron asked. "Kind of different from the planet I lived." Y/n rubbed her arm. "You know, girl. I'm on your side. Would you like to be one of House Harkonnen?" Baron made a cocky smile. "You meant marriage?" Y/n rised her head. "That's right, clever girl!" Baron chuckled. "I think it's not up to me and it's rather up to Feyd. I'll think about it anyway." you answered. "Of course. Now I should go." he finished the conversation.

Time skip "Is this Lady Fenring wants to seduce you or something, Feyd?" you spoke to him. "Don't worry, you're my only true love." Feyd assured you. "Thanks but I'm meant something completely different. She's one of Bene Gesserit. I wondering what's on her mind." Y/n embraced his neck and made a slight laughter. "I don't care actually." Feyd Rautha looking into your eyes. "I must admit that she's beautiful." Y/n sighed. "I don't need Lady Fenring when I have you. Your eyes and smile the most beautiful." Feyd kissed your hand. "Thank you." you squeezed into his chest for comfort. "Let me tell you something." He whispered with a smile. "What is it?" Y/n asked curiously. "I'm gonna fight at at the arena in few days. Would you come there?" he asked. "Oh, yes. I do remember, it's that your birthday. Your uncle invited me and he said I'll get the best view on arena." you said thoughtfully. Feyd made a smug smile and kisses your forehead. "That's all what you wanted to tell me?" Y/n guesses. "It'll wait for a while." he replied. Some days later Y/n joined Baron, everyone screaming Feyd's name and you watching him walking inside the arena. "I hope you're don't find it really cruel, Miss Y/n?" Baron smirked. "I'm come here to see Feyd in action, well I'm think I'm get used to that." You make a small smile. "Good to hear that." Baron nodded. Y/n watched Feyd carefully and then you get distracted by Baron a bit. "Did you thought about our last little talking, dear?" Baron made a cocky smile. "Not yet." Y/n confessed. "Hmm, I see." Baron said unemotionally. "Can we talk about that later?" you get uncomfortable. You watching Feyd a bit longer and then rushed away from the loud noises and once again you feeling yourself emotionally drained. As you catches your breath, you could feel someone standing behind you, it was Lady Fenring. "I see you're don't like noisy and cruel action, don't you? Deep breathing helps you to calm down." she said calmly. "I'm perfectly fine, Lady Fenring." you glanced at her. "I'm not recommend you to lie to me because I can read your reactions." Lady Fenring made a small smile. "Perhaps, I'm not okay." Y/n confesses. "You're Feyd's favorite concubine, right? I think you're a bit young for a concubine." she spoke. "I'm not that young. And you're Bene Gesserit…" you insulted back awkwardly. "How funny you're trying to insulting me but I'm just said what I'm thinking." she adores you. "That's all what you're wanted to say to me? Then I'm leaving." you looked away. "Perhaps Feyd's concubine didn't like me because Feyd Rautha showing more attention to me?" she guessed. "No, it's not like that! I just want to know your true intentions about Feyd." you rises your voice. "How sweet that you're protective of your Lord Na-Baron." Fenring teased. "You'll don't understand how I feel." you bited your lips nervously. "No, it's seems that you're the one who don't understand things. He's a psychopath and you saw his true nature today." Lady Fenring touched your shoulder. "He's different with me. Feyd can be a better person." you whispered.

Lady Fenring glanced at you thoughtfully. "You thinking that Feyd Rautha can be redeemed?" "I want to believe in that." Y/n lowered her head. "Now I have faith in you. I think I'll tell you why I'm here but not now. We're not enemies, dear." she made a soft smile. "I'm sorry for being harshly on you Lady Fenring." you nodded. "It's okay. Bye for now." she smiles.

Y/n leaves the arena among other people. You meet with Feyd some minutes later. "Congratulations on your victory, Feyd." Y/n playfully attacked him from the back. Feyd looked back at you as you embrace him. "Thank you, darling." he made a smug smile. "You had some great moves." Y/n giggles. "Some say that you're talked with Lady Fenring. Do you become friends huh?" Feyd asked. "In short she's helped me with my panic attack and she thought that I'm jealous of the fact that..." you paused. "And what you're replied to her?" Feyd made a cocky smile. "You know I'm not a jealous type." Y/n winked playfully. "Uhm, what a liar you are." Feyd touched your face gently. "How do you say." Y/n touches Feyd's hand.

At night you had a nightmare, you tossed and turning in your bed. In your dream you saw Baron and Rabban standing in front of you smiling wickedly. "Execute her!" Baron said menacingly. Soldiers pushed you at the ground. "Please don't!" Y/n pleads.

"No one will think that someone killed her, we can say that it was suicide because she already tried to commit suicide." One of the soldiers chuckled. "Right." Baron laughed ominously. Tears runned down your face. "I'll do whatever you tell me, just leave me alive, please." you began to tremble. "It's too late for that, you should have thought when you made that mistake." Baron said. "No! Feyd! Help me!" Y/n called Feyd Rautha for help. You finally saw Feyd, he took the rapier and stabbed it into your heart. "Goodbye, darling." Feyd made a evil and terrifying smile. Y/n screamed in pain and blood flashes on the ground. When you woke up, you gasped in shock and sat in your bed, your heart beating rapidly, you started crying.

Feyd rushed into your room concerned. "Do you have a panic attack or it's was a bad dream?" You still sobbed and cuddles into him. "Don't leave me alone please." "I'm right here, darling." He gave you a kiss on a forehead. "I had a terrible nightmare." you confessed. "It's just a bad dream." Feyd assured you. "Yeah, right. That's really stupid." Y/n hide her face with her hands. "Do you need a doctor or anything?" he asked. "I'm alright now. Thank you." Y/n laid her head into Feyd's shoulder. "I wanted to tell you something back than." He spoke. "Yeah." you nodded. "More correctly I want to ask you one thing." Feyd started. "I'm listening." you replied. "Would you marry me?" He looked into your eyes. "Yes, but when I'll be ready for it. I hope you're understand that. I didn't tell you it before but I love you." Y/n cuddled into his chest. "I love you too." He kissed you cheek.

Y/n then looked away. "To be honest, your uncle hints about marriage several times when he's talked to me."

"I see. Should I stay?" He touched your face.

"Can you stay for a bit? Let's get outside the balcony and talk." You squeezes his hands. He made a small smile and nodded to you.

Time skip Lady Fenring visits you secretly. "Let's talk about the things then." "Why Bene Gesserit sends you here?" "I was send here to secure the bloodline of prospective Kwisatz Haderach." she spoke. "You mean Feyd but how it possible that he is-?" you paused. "It's really a long story. Do you have a great patience for listening the whole explanations of the terms, dear?" Lady Fenring asked. "Tell me more please." Y/n pleads. "I see. So listen carefully." she smiled. You both talked for hours and then Lady Fenring was the one who's asking you several questions. "Something in you make me believe that Feyd Rautha can be redeemed. But what make you believe in it?" "It's not a big deal I guess. But when we're first met, I cutted veins on my arm and I could die but he's saved me though he could have his own plans about me." you lowered you head holding your arm remembering everything. "Hmm." Lady Fenring said thoughtfully. "What? What your Bene Gesserit training telling you about that?" Y/n curiously asked. "That you love him. I think you're able to redeem him. But we're will be watching you two." Lady Fenring made a soft smile. Y/n get a deep breath. "Sometimes I'm scared and I want to go back home but I can't go back." "I think there's nothing you should be scared of because you're brave and strong enough and after all, I'll be around to help you."

"Thank you." Y/n made a sincere smile.

Padishah Emperor arrives at Arrakis while Paul killed Baron and Rabban was killed as well. Y/n was worried about what going to happen next. "Feyd, I'm scared." you whispered. "Be strong darling." he squeezes your hand. Lady Fenring was around and watched you. Paul challenges Shaddam for the throne and, to Chani's dismay, demands Irulan's hand in marriage. Shaddam admits his involvement in the destruction of House Atreides. Feyd and Paul began the duel, Y/n watched them nervously. Lady Fenring comforts you by laying her hand on your shoulder. Paul wounded Feyd and he falls on the ground bleeding. "No!" Y/n screams. "I'm sorry, dear but nothing we can do, we can't get involved into duel." Lady Fenring hugged you. "No I can. Who's come up this stupid rules? I'm not going to lose a person that I love!" Y/n slipped from her embrace and rushed down next to Feyd before Paul's last fatal move. "No, wait! Paul Atreides!" you stopped Paul as he was confused. "Who are you and how you're dare to get involved to our duel?" he asked. "I'm from House Vernius, our fathers are allies. Please do me a favor." you looked at Paul and then at Feyd. "But why you're with Harkonnens?" Paul asked. "My father sold me as a slave to Harkonnens." you confessed. "But you're must be Feyd's concubine, right?" Paul corrected. "That's right. Just tell me what I can do to save Feyd's life and my own too?" "Surrender to me, kneeling before me and kiss my ring." Paul ordered. "I'll do it. But save Feyd." Y/n kneel before Paul. "I believe you." Atreides showing mercy to you. "Thank you." Y/n bowing. Some of Sardaukar troops carries Feyd Rautha and bandaged his wounds. Lady Fenring standing next to you. "You must be fearless but you should be careful next time." "Yes I know I made a risky move but all I wanted to save him. I think I'm going to faint if I'm not get a nap." you confessed. "Great job anyway." she made a soft smile.

Lady Fenring lead you and help you find a place where you can rest.

"Why you let that Harkonnen live?" Chani asked Paul. "Because she's loves him, don't you see it? But I'm gonna to watch over him, if he'll going to betray me, they're both will be dead." Paul replied. "That's wise and merciful from you side." she replied. Hour later Y/n visited Feyd Rautha, he was still unconscious, you glanced at his face and sighed. Chani come to you. You were a bit surprised by that. "Paul going to talk to you and him later." she said coldly. "I should've guess that." Y/n lowered her head. "How can you love Harkonnen? He's a monster." Chani asked in a rude manner. "Perhaps love can change a person." Y/n replied peacefully. "That's wise words. I respect your bravery." Chani softened. "How your name?" Y/n asked but she don't know the Fremen traditions so it could be awkward. "My name is Chani." she spoke. "My name is Y/n." you replied. "I should go now." Chani walked away. Y/n squeezed Feyd's hand and laid her head into his shoulder.

Hour later. You could feel Feyd's heartbeat and his voice again. "Y/n…" Feyd spoke in low voice. "Oh, Feyd! I glad you're alive!" Y/n giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Glad to see you again too." Feyd made a small smile. "Don't flatter yourself too much, cousin. You're alive only because I'm wished so." Paul approached both of you. "I didn't expect that my cousin would deign to visit me." Feyd replied bitterly. "Feyd, no need to." Y/n glanced at Paul. "Can you leave us for a while?" Paul asked. "Sure." you nodded. "What do you want?" Feyd asked. "Do you know that she saved your life? You're must be going to become next Baron but I'll warning you that you both will be dead if you're going to betray me." Paul said coldly. "I see, cousin." Feyd replied. "Tell me a bit about your concubine." Paul demanded. "She lost her rank and family. She's kind, brave and beautiful. Once she cutted her arm and I ordered my people to save her life." Feyd responses. "Y/n is no doubt is fearless. I see your feeling is true." Paul nodded. "Are you surprised by this, cousin?" Feyd mocked. "Kind of." Paul then leaves the room. Paul talked to you as well. Some days later Feyd recovered and you both returned to Giedi Prime and get married there snd then you both visiting planet IX at honeymoon. Y/n don't care about if reunion with her family going to be bitter but she was wrong. When Feyd arrived with you at the planet, your father and cousin noticed you. "Is that you?" Your father asked. "I know what you're going to say but I wanted to go back." you replied. To you surprise your father hugged you. "I'm so sorry. I hope you're forgive me for what I'm done and said to you." "It's okay. I believe in second chances." you hugged you father back. "I'm sorry too." your cousin spoke. "By the way meet my husband Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen." You said proudly. "I'm glad I met your daughter." Feyd spoke. "Baron?" Your father asked confused.

Feyd glanced at you as you laughted. "Don't you know anything? I'll tell you everything."

#It seems I never learn how to add more details #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #dune part two #x female reader #x reader fanfiction #x reader fluff #x reader fic #female reader #fem reader #lady fenring #sorry its so short #sorry it’s bad

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 2 months

Note

your writing is incredible! do you mind writing something about dilf dave mustaine corrupting young female reader

Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoy my writing!

A/n: I got, like, halfway through writing this and then had a better idea on how I could've answered this request but I didn't want to rewrite it because I still liked the story so I hope you still like it just as much :3

Warnings: Smut, unprotected pnv, oral(male receiving), fingering(reader receiving), if you think I missed anything please let me know otherwise enjoy :3

The sunset strip. Many things come to mind at the sound of that title. Band startups, drinking and drugging, all things surrounding rock, punk, metal and all sorts of other kinds of music. This was the scene, and you were finally here.

After high school you skipped out on the gap year and went straight to getting higher degrees. After those years of extra gruelling homework you took your break, taking a well deserved time off before heading into the workforce.

This being your year of true freedom, a kind you probably won’t get close to again, you went to the one place you’ve always wanted to be. The sunset strip.

Now, you weren’t much of a party person. When all your friends were out at someone’s house you were at home studying, reading, a few jobs on and off. The whole crowded place was not something you wanted. But the sunset strip was where you wanted to be all that time. Even though it was way out of your comfort zone.

You looked through some of the clothes in a store you found called ‘Retail Slut’. The clothes were of all kinds and you were quite happy to be digging in all of it, unique smells and all.

In the back there was a small stand of records which you thought were pretty cool. While you were going through them a tall man with ginger hair came up to the table and seemed to be pretending to look around at the albums. You caught him glancing at you a few times and he eventually spoke up.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he said, “new to town?” He had this friendly presence to him. His smile was warm and he had the cutest glasses on. He wore this cute brown coat and light blue jeans. Fall incarnate. A fallen leaf on a frosty day.

“Just visiting, I grew up watching everything happen here and I’d never been.” You explained. The man nodded in understanding. You picked up an album with a hammer in a red and black frame titled ‘Kill ‘em All’. The ginger haired fellow took it from you and put it under another stack of albums further down the table.

“I’ve listened to some of their shit, you wouldn’t like it.” He stated, glaring down at the assortment of other records.

“How would you know what I’d like?” You asked, crossing your arms around your chest. The man looked up at you. He eyed you from head to toe, biting his lip as he did so.

“There’s a band playing just around the corner at a bar I like.” He walked around the table to stand in front of you. “Care to join me?” He asked, holding a hand out for you to take. You hesitated for a moment. You’ve never done anything like this before, running off with a stranger to some bar. Right into a party? No one ever would’ve taken you for the type, least of all yourself.

But this was the strip, and you came here to be free. So you took his hand and he led you out of the thrift store.

You walked down the streets hand in hand. You kept scanning around at everything happening, all the laughing, smiling faces. Rock posters everywhere, record stores, guitar shops. Everything you’ve dreamed of.

“I’m Dave, by the way.” The man said. You’d been trying to work up the courage to ask but the words kept fizzling out before they came out of your mouth. “In case you were wondering what name to call out tonight.” You thought about it for a moment, trying to think of a scenario where you’d need to call for him when it clicked as to what he was referring to. Your cheeks heated up and your gaze fell to the ground as you entered a dark club.

Dave threw an arm over your shoulder, keeping you close in the crowded area. Being so close to him you could smell his cologne. The stench of the club nearly covered it but you managed to focus on it. It helped keep you calm in this unfamiliar scene.

The ginger walked you through the club and sat down at the bar. He ordered you both ginger ale. “Unless, the lady wants something else?” He offered. You shook your head and the bartender walked off to make your drinks. “Not a drinker?” He asked, half leaning on the counter.

“I’m not even a partier.” You replied, almost exasperated. The bartender returned a few moments later with your drinks. You thanked them and reached for your purse. Dave gently pushed your hand away and handed the worker some cash.

“Pretty girls don’t buy drinks, doll.” He told you, taking a sip of his drink.

The two of you got to talking, having a few more non-alcoholic drinks and just chatting your time away. This was much more pleasant than the stories of parties you’ve heard all your life. This was nothing compared to the scene you’d come here expecting, but it was a much appreciated one.

Dave’s hand found its way to your knee, slowly moving higher and higher. You decided on a leather skirt and fishnets to go along with your red tube-top and thrifted leather jacket. His fingers were dipping under your skirt, just enough to have your stomach fluttering.

Finally, after hours of teasing you with his touch that was barely considered innocent, Dave leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Why don’t you come with me for a minute?” He held his hand out for you to take, and you did.

The ginger led you through the crowd and to the bathrooms. He tried to pull you into the mens room but you stopped. “I-I can’t go in there.” You said, glancing around to see if anyone was looking at you. They weren’t, all of them too preoccupied with the show on before them, all wasted and having their own fun.

“Come on.” Dave groaned with a smile. “It’ll be fun, I promise.” He urged, gently pulling you into the bathroom.

He got you on the counter, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands on your hips. Your lips crashing against one anothers, tongues dancing together and exploring each other's mouths. Dave was pushing your skirt up, bunching it around your hips. You could feel him hardening as he would grind against you, short and harsh rotations of his hips.

Dave’s hands began to wander. He’d run the tips of his fingers over the inside of your thighs, sending shivers up your spine and knotting your gut. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” He mumbled against your lips when his thumb finally pushed against your panties. He pushed the thin piece of fabric to the side and slid a finger through your folds. That alone had your back arching in anticipation. “Fuck me, you’re so fucking wet.” He mused, starting to kiss down your neck. Nipping and sucking the tender flesh and leaving love bites. You screwed your eyes shut and your mouth fell open in soft sounds as Dave slid a finger into you.

He curled his finger against your gummy walls, pressing against that special spot inside you. Your eyes rolled back and you gripped his shoulders. “Such a sweet thing, huh? Never felt this before, have you?” He hummed as he pumped his long, thick fingers in and out of you. He started slow, letting you get used to this new sensation before he picked up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against wet skin rang through the small, tiled room along with your whimpers.

“Oh, fuck, please! Please, fuck, I c- I can’t.” You whined, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. Dave then pulled his finger out of you, taking away any pleasure you had just been feeling. You stared at him with wide sad eyes and a pout. “Why would you do that..?” You asked, your voice shaky and weak. Dave looked at you with an apologetic, pitying look.

“Oh... Is my baby needy?” He brought his hand up to cup your cheek, gently caressing it. “All sad and pouty because she doesn’t get to cum yet?” He ran his fingers through your hair and gave you a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t worry, daddy’ll take care of you.” He pulled you off the counter, your knees buckled and you fell to your knees on the cold tile in front of him. You stared up at him with that same wide-eyed stare. “You just have to do something for me first, sweetheart.” Dave said as he unbuckled his belt.

His pants fell to the ground, leaving him in his boxers which had a prominent bulge from his cock. “Go on, doll, make daddy happy.” You were hesitant at first, gaze flickering between him and his eyes. You brought your hands up and dipped your fingers under the waistband of his boxer, gently tugging them down until they fell to his ankles with his pants.

Dave’s hard member hit you in the face after being brought out from its confines, traces of pre already sticking to your cheek. “I-I’ve never...” You trailed off, not sure whether it was because you were distracted by his dick or that you just didn’t want to finish the sentence.

Dave’s hand went to your face again, holding you by the chin to tilt your head up so you’d look him in the eye, though your gaze flickered to his lips a few times as well. “Don’t worry, I’ll guide you.” He mused, wiping the liquid from your cheek. You gave a weak nod and opened your mouth for him.

The ginger slowly guided his cock over your tongue, letting the weight lay on the muscle for a moment before he went further. His hand was still on your head, holding you in place for him. He was only about halfway in when he stopped, letting you get used to just that. “Watch your teeth now, doll, but give it a suck, would you?” He said in that same soft voice he’d been using with you all afternoon and now into the night.

You did as he told you to, your tongue traced the veins on the underside as you hollowed your cheeks for him. You pulled your head back a bit to pay more attention to his tip and he let you, for a moment. Before you knew it he was slamming his hips to meet your face, fucking deep into the back of your throat at a brutal pace. You gagged on him and the tears that had been pricking your eyes fell in streams down your red cheeks.

Your knees and throat hurt but Dave didn’t stay like this for long. He didn’t finish but he pulled himself out of your mouth and pulled you up off the floor. He pushed you up against the counter with your back facing him so you’d be looking into the mirror. The ginger stared down at your exposed ass, hands firmly planted on your hips as he spread you apart. His thumb pushed the fishnet and your panties aside so he could feel just how wet you were, all for him.

“Fucking gorgeous.” He hummed. “All pretty and mine.” He said, and with a quick tug he ripped your fishnets, then your thin underwear. He lined himself up with you and pushed in, bottoming out without giving you time to prepare yourself.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, drool slipping out of your puffy and bruised lips, tears rolling down your hot cheeks. You didn’t care, anything besides Dave’s cock stuffed deep inside you was beyond your comprehension right now. You loved the feeling of him, the way he hit every spot that had you seeing stars, the way he held you so close to his chest.

After letting you adjust to him for a moment or two he wasted no time in setting a fast rhythm, thrusting into you without a care in the world. He groped your chest and bit your neck, leaving red and purple spots in his wake as his hips slammed against yours. You weren’t processing any sounds you were making but based on the expression you saw staring back at you you could imagine they were pretty loud, all lustful moans as Dave slid in and out of you, his head pressing right up against your cervix.

The knot came back full force when Dave started circling your clit and quickly burst. You screamed out for him, creaming around him. Your juices dripped down his cock, your ass and thighs getting coated as well while the liquids made their way to the floor which was already covered in a layer of other fun times. However, Dave didn’t stop. His thrusts were relentless as he kept bucking his cock into you.

“Fuck-fuck, so pretty, so pretty just for me, so tight around daddy’s cock.” Dave praised, landing a harsh smack on your ass, then another and then a third, each one drawing a yelp from you. Dave took your hair in his hand, bunching it into a makeshift ponytail so he could pull your head back to force you to look into the mirror. “Look at that, look at my little slut, all fucked out on daddy’s dick.” Your eyes were fluttering, you felt like you were on the verge of passing out but you managed to keep your standing.

Dave began losing his rhythm and just sloppily fucking into you, doing anything to reach his own high. The coil in your gut returned, this time you got to see how that looked on the outside. Dave behind you with his long, ginger hair sticking to his face and your shoulders from sweat. You watched the way your ass shook every time he rammed into you, you saw the small bulge in your stomach. Dave saw it at the same time and smiled a wicked grin.

“Look at that, all ready to have my babies, are you?” He teased. You let out a loud, sultry whine and Dave’s eyes rolled back as your walls squeezed him. “Oh, fuck~ Do that a few more times and you just might, dollface.” You continued to watch the bulge appear and disappear only to reappear right after over and over, bringing you over the edge once more.

Your body shook and your knees buckled. You clenched around Dave bringing him to his own release. Thick, white liquid shot into you and the ginger bent you over the counter, pressing down onto you as he kept bucking up into you.

He kept going a few more seconds before pulling away. He pulled out of you and watched his cum seep out of your hole. You looked back at him, then to the floor where the liquid fell. Dave saw the pout on your face, the one you hadn’t even realised was there, and pulled you into a hug. “Don’t worry, doll, I’ll get you good and pregnant next time.” He smiled, kissing your forehead. “I can bring you back home right now, would you like that, dollface?” You smiled back up at him and nodded, your eyes closing as you melted into his warm embrace.

#Megadeth #megadeth smut #megadeth x reader #megadeth fanfiction #dave mustaine #dave mustaine smut #dave mustaine x reader #dave mustaine fanfiction

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boldlyvoid · 10 months

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Bigger than the whole sky | Part Three: Electric Hearts

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: As it turns out, getting pregnant was the easiest part... The hard part is making sure Jack is okay with it and the team understands what it's going to look like when Hotch goes on paternity leave... and Peter's moms reaction to a grandbaby that isn't hers.

Warnings: pregnancy, canon rewrite season 10/11 - no scratch plotline, spencers mom's dementia mentioned, JJ's pregnant too, lots of Jack content, doctors appointments and ultrasounds, nondescript case in LA -- hotel quickies, showering together, lots of fluff over all

Word Count: 13.5k

Masterlist

Derek is so used to being called into Hotch’s office now that he’s the second in command, that he no longer feels anxious when Aaron asks him to close the door behind himself. He always knows that Aaron just wants to talk about a new case or some bullshit higher up… today he comes right in, closes the door and sits down like he owns the place.

“What’s up?”

“That place you’re letting Y/N stay in, how much were you going to sell it for?” Aaron asks.

“Why?” Derek smiles, sitting up straighter.

“It’s the perfect size for us and the kids,” Aaron answers, smiling right back, letting Derek in on their little secret.

“No way?” Derek can’t believe it, he’s so proud, he’s practically oozing happiness. “You didn’t even skip a beat, she said she wanted kids and you just went and did it?”

“We did it…”

Derek gets up from his seat and meets Aaron halfway for a hug, he pats him on the back and just laughs, “Wow… you’re going to be a dad again.”

“And that’s another thing I need to talk to you about,” Aaron says, making him sit back down. “Not only do I want to buy that house from you, I would like you to step up and take over when I go on paternity leave.”

“Obviously,” Derek shrugs like it’s nothing to take over as Unit Chief. “I don’t mind, I’m just starting to get used to the paperwork again.”

“I’m going to ask JJ to step up into your spot during that time and we’re working on 2 new hires so you’ll have almost a full team in our absence,” Aaron explains further. “And I’ll be 1 call away at all times.”

“And I’ll know where you live,” Derek teases. “Speaking of the house, it was foreclosed when I got it so it was only 153k and I put about 100k into it, so I can settle on 255, even though I know the market value now is close to 800.”

“I don’t mind paying the full—

“No, no. Put the rest of the money into the kids' college funds, please? You know I don’t need it.” Derek stares at him with his immaculate brows arched.

“I can do that,” he agrees easily. “Can you just keep it a secret for me? I want the house to be a present for her and she doesn’t want anyone but you to know about the baby yet… she really wants to make it to 12 weeks before she starts to tell anyone in case it doesn’t work out.”

“Of course, man… but I’m sure the others will figure it out, I mean, she’s not really going after unsubs as hard as before and she’s sticking to your side at the precincts instead of going out to interview suspects, she’s been having a snack at 3-hour intervals… she ever stayed back with penny cause she wasn’t feeling good. I had a feeling this was coming. ”

“She doesn’t want to transfer, she’s going to switch on desk duty around 20 weeks… she’s actually been doing the interviews for me so we can fill up the team again,” Aaron explains. “Have you heard anything about a Luke Alvez?”

He nods, “Yeah, he’s on the fugitive task force, right? He’s gone after some of the unsubs we’ve profiled but couldn’t capture, right?”

“Yeah, he did.” Aaron nods, “he and Dr. Tara Lewis, a forensic psychologist from San Fransisco, are our top two. She’s been interviewing convicted serial killers for the last 4 years, she has the most updated insight into why they do what they do.”

“Our team would be absolutely stacked with them,” Derek all but cheers, he’s so excited.

“So, should I make some calls?” Aaron asks with a smile.

“You better, or I will.”

—

At the same time Derek disappears into Aaron's office, JJ pulls Y/N aside. “Hey, can we talk?” She asks, tugging her all the way down to Derek's old office for some privacy.

Y/n has a feeling she knows what’s coming, either JJ is pregnant or she’d figured out that she is. No matter what, it’s going to be interesting if she’s pulling her this far out of ear range from the team. “What’s going on?”

“You’re doing the rehiring with Hotch, right?”

She nods, “Yeah, why?”

“You might want to consider a second person…”

“Third,” Y/N can’t help but correct her with a smirk.

“No way?” JJ’s eyes light right up. “You too?”

“Yeah, I’m 7 weeks tomorrow.”

“I just hit 10 weeks,” she says and then her jaw drops, she can’t believe it. “Holy shit?”

“Oh man… this is going to ruin Aaron’s plan…”

“What is?”

“He was going to ask Derek to step up as chief and have you move into Derek's spot,” Y/N shares. “I guess we have to ask Spencer now.”

“He’ll do it,” JJ all but answers for him. “Him and Derek running shit will be interesting but… I think they can do it.”

“And Penelope will be there to keep them in check,” Y/N teases. “But anyway, how are you feeling? Are you okay?”

JJ nods, “I’m good, it’s surprisingly a lot similar to Henry’s pregnancy so I’m just nauseous all day and sore when I come home and I could honestly fall asleep anywhere… but I’m good.”

“I haven’t been sick yet,” Y/N shares with her fingers crossed. “I really don’t want to throw up but I know it’ll hit me out of nowhere soon. I remember when Peter's cousin had their first she was only sick in the second trimester and I have a feeling I might get that too.”

“Spencer would say that’s because in the first semester, your body sometimes heals everything in you in order to make the most habitable home for the baby and then you’re so worn down in the second trimester that you get sick easily,” she explains, having heard it all before. “He said the same thing to Callahan last year when she had her baby.”

“What’s in the water here getting us all knocked up?” Y/N teases. “I mean, who’s next?”

“Derek,” JJ jokes. “With the rate he and Savannah are having weekends alone… it’ll happen.”

“I just hope he waits until Aaron is done with his paternity leave.”

—

Finding a doctor that could do appointments on weekends was hard. They couldn’t find a way to sneak out of the office during the week to go to an appointment without the team figuring out what was going on and most of their cases took them out of D.C. for 2-4 days so they’d have to reschedule anyway.

It’s actually Derek who’s able to hook that up for them. He simply asks his Doctor girlfriend and she asks one of her OBGYN friends at the hospital — who are more than willing to help out a couple of FBI agents on a weekend.

Y/N and Aaron come in that next Saturday at 10am and finally get to see their tiny little baby in her ever-growing stomach… she was already having a hard time fitting into her work pants and she was only 2 months along. Aaron loved it, which she knew he would, she just didn’t expect him to have his hands on her all the time. At work, he’d rest his hand on her side with his fingers slowly inching towards her tummy and at home, he was all over her. The doctor's office was no different.

He helps her out of her pants and into a gown for the ultrasound and then onto the exam table. He takes a seat beside her and quickly his hand comes up to rest on her stomach. She covers his hand with her own and caresses him with her thumb, “you’re so cute,” she compliments.

“Why?” He laughs, “cause I can’t keep my hands off you?”

“I don’t know if it’s your fatherly instincts or what, but you basically guard my belly now,” she teases. “It’s cute.”

“I love you two, sue me,” he teases right back.

The two of them laugh together more than anything else. He makes her so happy that her cheeks always end up hurting from smiling too much. They’re so in love it makes her feel a little crazy because there’s no way this is how love is always supposed to be. She can’t believe she missed out on these feelings for so long and she also can’t believe she gets to be this happy with him for the rest of her life.

“Knock knock,” their doctor says as she opens up the door just a few inches. “Are you ready to start the appointment?”

“Absolutely!” Y/N cheers, she sits up ever so slightly and squeezes Aaron's hand. “Thank you so much for taking us on a Saturday.”

“Oh, no problem, Dr. Hayes told me all about what you guys do for our country, I wouldn’t dare turn you away,” she raves as she approaches them. She takes a seat on the little rolling stool and moves in closer to them. “Thanks for catching bad guys, you guys are like heroes.”

“He’s the hero, he’s been doing it for 13 years,” Y/N pushes the compliment onto Aaron cause she doesn’t take them well.

“It’s nothing,” Aaron waves it off.

“Not nothing, it’s amazing… I’m Dr. Samantha Connors, by the way,” she says as she reaches out to shake Aaron's hand. “Is this your first baby?”

“Mine, yeah,” Y/N smiles. “Aaron has a 10-year-old son named Jack, he’s the sweetest.”

“Okay good, so you’re familiar with these appointments, aren’t you Dad?”

Aaron nods, “I wasn’t at all of them with my ex-wife, but from what I remember this appointment is just for the heartbeat and making sure the baby is growing properly, right?”

Dr. Connors smiles, “Yeah, that’s exactly right. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get started with your ultrasound, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N agrees, she gets comfortable in her seat, her feet in the stirrups, and she takes a deep breath knowing what was about to happen wasn’t comfortable.

Aaron holds her hand the whole time that the doctor looks around without showing them the screen. They share little smiles and stare down the doctor together, both of them being experts at studying body language… they know everything is fine even before she turns the screen to them and says, “Are you ready to meet your baby?”

They both beam, nodding as words escape them… their baby is so tiny and real and right there on the screen. “She looks like a cashew,” Y/N can’t help but say as her eyes well with tears. “Oh my gosh.”

“I always forget how small they start out,” Aaron swoons just the same.

“they’re measuring perfectly for 8 weeks and on my monitor here I see the heart beating but let’s hear it,” Doctor Connors says as she turns on the Doppler effect and the woosh of her heartbeat comes through.

Y/N starts crying almost immediately, she tries so hard to hold it in but the tears run down her face, anyway. Aaron is quick to cup her face in his hands and wipe her tears away, he presses a kiss to her cheek, “you’re okay,” he reminds her. “You’re doing so good, she’s so healthy.”

“Very healthy,” Doctor Connors affirms. “We’re just waiting on the blood work you did in the other room to confirm, but just from the looks of things I think this is going to be a very successful pregnancy.”

“It’s my first time ever being pregnant,” Y/N shares. “I was trying for years with my ex-husband but he had a vasectomy and never told me so I always thought I couldn’t but it was him that was the issue. I’ve always wanted to see this, that’s why I’m crying.”

“I’m so sorry,” she places her free hand on her chest. “That’s awful, I can’t believe that happened to you.”

“It was awful… but I’m much happier on every front now,” She says as she smiles at Aaron.

“You and me both, honey.”

—

Aaron keeps looking in the rear-view mirror, he’s staring at Jack in the back seat. He still hasn’t told him where they’re going… Jack spent the night with Jess last night, he’s expecting to go right home but Aaron’s taking him to Y/N’s house for the first time. Y/N still doesn’t know that Aaron is working on buying the house, Jack has no idea either, so really it’s just Aaron trying to get them both used to being in that house together before he announces or proposes anything.

At the end of the day, Jack's happiness and comfort are very important and if he isn't happy with this, Aaron will just have to find a way to make living in 2 places work for them.

“Dad?” Jack asks from the back seat.

“Yeah?”

“You missed the road we take to go home…”

“Oh… uh, I thought we could go see Y/N for dinner tonight? Is that okay?” Aaron asks, “She’s making pasta, you like pasta, right?”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Jack says with a smile. “I like her, she’s a good cook.”

“She is,” Aaron smiles back. “You’re going to like her house, too, she has a big yard and a nice new couch for movies and she has Netflix, too.”

“Oh! Yes, can we watch a movie before we leave tonight?”

“I think that could be possible,” Aaron agrees. “But you’ll have to ask her, she worked all day and we didn’t sleep on the plane and now she’s making dinner, she’s probably going to be tired.”

“I’ll be extra nice when I ask, I promise,” Jack says with a giddy look on his face. His shoulders rise as he clenches his fist and shimmies in his seat, overjoyed to get to spend more time with her.

It’s everything Aaron could ever hope for and more, his two (almost 3) favourite people love to hang out together. That’s all he wanted.

Y/N meets them outside on the front step when they arrive, she’s changed into her comfy clothes and she opens her arms wide when Jack runs towards her for a hug. “Hi buddy,” she coos, she pets his hair and gives his head a gentle kiss. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Dad said you might be tired tonight but if you’re not can we watch another movie together?” He asks right away.

“Oh, yeah, yeah we totally can, buddy. I’m a little tired but staying up with you is worth it,” she gives him a smile as she leads him inside. “What movie were you thinking?”

Aaron just lets them go. He watches them talk to each other and share little smiles and laughs and he can’t believe this is his life.

When Haley died, the last thing he could imagine was feeling this in love again and the second last thing he could imagine was Jack having a motherly figure as he grew up. He was so scared to do it alone and fuck him up and then he blinked and his life fell into place once again. His son is happy, his girlfriend is happy, and their baby is healthy. There’s nothing more he could wish for.

“You know, I actually have a surprise for both of you,” Y/N announces midway through dinner.”

“Really?” Jack perks up.

“Really?” Aaron is surprised, she hasn’t told him anything and normally they’re like open books with each other.

“I saw that one of the neighbours was moving a bunk bed into the bed of her husband's truck and she said they were just going to take it to the dump because no one would answer their Craigslist add for a free bunk bed… so I took a look at it and it was in great condition and I gave her husband 50 bucks to help me put it together in one of the spare bedrooms,” she explains, smiling with all her teeth the whole time. “And then I messaged Derek and he had 2 single mattresses in the storage unit and he dropped them off for me so now Jack, you have a place to sleep here if you want to stay.”

“I’ve never had a bunk bed before!” Jack says as he gets up from his seat at the table to run over and give her another hug. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome,” she says just loud enough for him to hear. Her shoulders drop and she holds him close, resting her cheek on top of his head. “Next time we have a day off we can go pick out some stuff to decorate your room, okay?”

She peers over to Aaron, he’s smiling at her with his heart in his eyes, “I love you,” he mouths, not yet ready for Jack to hear that but it’s true. He sometimes can’t believe the amount of love he feels for her, it’s overwhelming in the best way possible.

After dinner, Aaron sends them both out to the living room to pick a movie and start watching it while he cleans up the kitchen for Y/N. He doesn’t know what they’re watching, but hearing them laugh together makes him smile as he fills the dishwasher and hand-washes the pots and pans she used to make the pasta. When he comes out of the kitchen, Jack is snuggled back into Y/N’s side with his hand on her belly, watching the movie without a clue that she’s carrying his little sibling in there. Aaron takes a sneaky picture of them on his cellphone, he wants to remember this moment forever. The moment both his families became one unit.

He takes a seat on her other side and she’s quick to take his hand in hers. She gives his hand a squeeze and he caresses her with his thumb, she leans over and rests her head on his shoulder, giving him the chance to press a kiss to her temple.

—

When it's time for Jack to go to bed, he sits in the bottom bunk of his new bed and he looks around the room like something is missing. “What’s wrong?” Y/N asks.

He shrugs, “Nothing.”

Aaron isn’t in the room, he’s stepped out to the car to get Jack's overnight bag with his pjs and toothbrush, so he can’t read Jack and tell her what’s going on. She has to pry. So she takes a seat beside him, making sure she doesn’t hit her head on the top bunk and she smiles softly, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

He nods and bites his lip, avoiding eye contact with her. “I need a night light.”

“Oh,” she should’ve known. “Um… I don’t have a normal night light but I have some string lights for Christmas I could put up, would that work?”

“Yeah, I don’t like the dark,” he shares.

“I don’t either,” she shares right back. “I think the lights are in a box under the stairs, do you want to come look with me? You can hold the flashlight?”

“Okay!” Jack agrees pretty easily, they run down the stairs together and to the kitchen where her flashlight sits in a drawer and she gives it to him. He flicks it on and off a few times with a smile, “thank you, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome, buddy,” she waves it off as no big deal and leads him to the cubby under the stairs.

He stands to the side, behind her, with the light on for her so she can see into all the boxes of things she hasn’t unpacked yet. She digs for a while, both of them don’t notice that Aaron has come back in or that he’s standing in the doorway, once again listening to them. “Here they are,” she announces as she pulls out the bundle of lights.

She holds them up to show Jack and he smiles, big and wide, “You’re the best… I really liked Beth and I was scared my dad wouldn’t find another nice lady to love like he did before with my mom but you’re even nicer. I’m really happy he loves you and you love him. He’s a lot happier now that you love him.”

“Jack,” she swoons and wraps her arms around him, trying not to cry. “That’s the sweetest thing you could’ve ever said to me!”

“It’s just the truth,” he laughs awkwardly while hugging her back.

When they come out of the little cubby under the stairs, they’re both shocked to see Aaron there, smiling. “Oh, hi,” Y/N smiles at him, still all teary-eyed.

“Dad, we’re going to hang these in my room!” Jack cheers, he’s so excited.

“Alright… with what?” Aaron asks, ready to help.

“I have some push pins in the kitchen we can just put them in the wall and drape the lights over it,” Y/N suggests. “And then when we go out to the store for decorations we’ll get you a real night light, okay?”

“Okay!” Jack shouts, overexcited, “You get the pins and I’ll put these upstairs!” And then he runs up the stairs to his new room.

“You’re so good with him,” Aaron coos, wrapping his arm around her and bringing her in for a hug. He kisses the top of her head and then she looks up at him with tears in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I’m just so happy,” she admits. She leans in for a quick kiss, pressing her lips to his, they breathe each other in for a quick moment before pulling apart. “Are we going to tell him tomorrow?” She whispers.

He nods, “I was thinking we could take him to the restaurant where I introduced you to him, for breakfast tomorrow, and we could tell him there?”

“That sounds perfect,” she agrees, “you can go help him get dressed and I’ll be up in a minute, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Aaron gives her a smile, his hand grazes her tummy as he pulls away fully and heads towards the stairs.

She watches him go with a soft smile on her face, she just shakes her head… she can’t believe this is her life now. She has a wonderful husband, the sweetest stepson and she’s pregnant with another perfect Hotchner. What more could she ever wish for?

When she gets upstairs, Jack is in his pjs, his teeth are brushed and he’s sitting happily in his bed, waiting for Y/N to return with the lights already plugged into the wall and turned on, ready to be hung up. She hands Aaron a few pins and they each stick them in the walls, an equal distance from each other so they hang nicely. “I really hope Derek won’t mind…”

“He won’t, it’s not going to be his house for long,” Aaron says with a sneaky smile on his face like he’s been planning something.

She doesn’t say anything, it’s not something they need to discuss in front of Jack but if he was going to buy this house to make it their shared home, she would not be mad about that. In fact, she’d be overjoyed to have her whole family under 1 roof.

Once the lights are up, Jack lies down in his bed against the pillows and smiles. “This is perfect.”

“You really like it?” Y/N asks, seeking his approval.

Jack just nods with a hum. “I’m really tired now.”

“okay buddy, we’ll get out of your hair,” Aaron announces, moving towards the door. “Sweet dreams.”

Y/N brushes her hand over Jack's hair and makes sure it’s out of his face and she leans down to kiss his forehead. “Thank you for a wonderful night, buddy. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Is Dad going to be in your room?”

“No, why?” Y/N shakes her head, wondering why he’d ask that.

“If I have a bad dream, I need to know where he is… don’t most grown-ups in love sleep in the same bed?”

“Yeah, but we didn’t think you were ready to see us sleeping together in the mornings,” Aaron answers. “Would you be okay with it?”

Jack nods, eyelids getting heavier. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Okay then, that’s where you’ll find me if you need me. I love you, buddy,” Aaron says as he flicks out the light.

“Love you. Dad Love you, Y/N.”

She tries so hard not to cry again, “I love you too, Jack,” she whispers and heads out with Aaron.

They shut the door to his room once they’re out and she places her hand over his heart, “You have the sweetest son in the world.” She whispers.

“He was never this cute with Beth, I mean, he was nice to her and he invited her to have sleepovers in the tent we made in the living room but he never told her he loved her…”

“He’s the son of a profiler, I think he’s just good at reading people because I do love you, Aaron Hotchner, I love you so much,” she drapes her arms over his shoulders and smiles up at him.

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her in close so their tummies touch, “I love you, too… Y/N Hotchner.”

Her brows raise at that, surprised, “really? I didn’t think you wanted to get married again?”

“I didn’t either,” he admits. “Come on, let’s go hang out before bed.”

“Once I go down the stairs I don’t know if I’ll have the energy to come back up,” she admits. “Can we hang out in my room?”

“Yeah, of course,” Aaron doesn’t mind as she pulls away, he simply runs his hands over her upper arms and smiles. “Anything you want from downstairs? I’m going to go lock up and make sure everything’s secure, maybe grab a water for myself.”

“Um, maybe a water and a ginger ale for if I get nauseous in the night and some crackers?”

“You got it, go get in bed and I’ll be right back up.”

She goes right to her room after that, she changes for bed and does her night routine in the bathroom. She’s midway through putting lotion on her belly and hips when she hears the alarm system turn on with its signature charm and then the sound of feet on the staircase. He puts everything on her night table and then peeks into the bathroom, standing in the doorway with a smile when he sees her shirt up, exposing her belly, as she rubs lotion over it.

“What?” She asks, “Never seen a pregnant lady try to avoid stretch marks before?”

“You’re just so beautiful,” he muses.

“Well, then, look all you want,” she teases.

He steps into the bathroom and makes his way to her, he places both his hands on her belly and he shakes his head in disbelief. He knees to the ground and places a kiss on her belly, “You know they can hear around 18 weeks? So I’ll get to talk to them in a few weeks.”

“I did know that,” she smiles down at him. “I’ve read all the books, you know? I had 8 years to prepare for this.”

He kisses her belly again and again, his hands wrap around to her lower back and one drops down to cup her ass, bringing her in closer to him. He hugs her that way, resting his cheek against her belly. “I can’t wait to talk to you, sweetheart.”

“You really think it’s a girl?”

He nods, “Yeah, I do. But even if I’m wrong, I’m just so excited to get to bond with them. When Haley was pregnant, I wasn’t home very often, I felt like I missed almost everything and then when Jack was born I did miss all the big moments. I wasn’t a good dad until she died and I had to be. I don’t want to do that this time.”

“I don’t think you were a bad dad, there are mothers who work and don’t see their kids often, too, you know? Do you consider JJ a bad mom because she missed Henry's first word and she wasn’t there when he walked for the first time? No. You don’t,” she points out. “You were working, and so was she. Working didn’t stop you from loving him with your whole heart, that right there, loving him, all of him, is the most important part of being a good parent.”

“God, I love you,” Aaron sighs, his shoulders drop and he looks up at her with the softest expression. “Thank you.”

“Come here,” she says, placing her hands under his armpits she helps pull him back up to his feet and then she wraps her arms around his middle and leans in for a kiss. She whispers against his lips, “Come to bed with me?”

“Always.”

—

When Jack wakes up in the morning he unplugs the Christmas lights and carefully opens his door so he doesn’t wake anyone up. He knows he has a tendency to wake up extra early, and he doesn’t have a clock in his new room so he has no way of knowing if it’s a good time to wake up or not. He simply goes to the bathroom, brushes his teeth and heads downstairs to look at the time.

It’s almost 7, his normal wake-up time for school, and his Dads normal wake-up time for work, so he doesn’t feel bad going back up the stairs and knocking on Y/N’s door.

“Come in,” Y/N answers from inside, so Jack opens it slowly.

“Hi,” he smiles once he’s inside.

“Good morning, buddy,” she smiles back, blinking into the morning light, slowly waking up. She’s on her side, cuddled into a pillow with Aaron cuddled up behind her, his arm slung around her and cupping her stomach. “Did you sleep okay?”

He nods as he makes his way over to the bed. “Yeah, did you?”

She nods and Aaron groans behind her, “What time is it?”

“Seven,” Jack answers. “I can go back to my room if—

“No, no, it’s fine,” Y/N stops him. “Do you want to climb in with us for a bit? We’re going to go out for breakfast later.”

She moves the pillow she was cuddling to the floor and lets Jack take its place. He snuggles right in and sighs as he relaxes. “Where?”

“At McGillicuddy’s,” Aaron answers. “You like the pancakes there, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s not a special day? We only go on special days?”

“Every day with you is special,” Y/N teases, she snuggles him in closer and kisses his cheek.

“Okay,” Jack laughs, a sweet pink blush on his cheeks.

Y/N lays on her side still, cuddled into Jack, as Hotch sits up and rests his hand on Y/Ns shoulder and then rests his chin on his hand. He tilts his head to the side and smiles, he hasn’t had a morning lay-in with his family in a long time. Jack hasn’t either. He smiles back at his dad, “Did you sleep okay?”

“We did,” Aaron answers for them both. “How were the lights?”

“Good, I didn’t get scared when I woke up to roll over,” Jack shares. “I really liked my new bed, too.”

“I’m glad,” Aaron says with a sigh, he’s still tired and Jack can tell. “Do you want to go get ready? There are some extra clothes in your overnight bag.”

“Not yet,” Jack snuggles in even closer to Y/N and holds onto the arm she has slung over his chest. “I want a few more minutes before everything changes.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N doesn’t understand. “Nothing's changing? We’re just going to get breakfast.”

“Okay,” Jack whispers. “It’s just… Dad took me to Disney World when him and Beth broke up, I know he takes me places when he has big news.”

“You took him to Disney world for that?” Y/N turns to him, she can’t believe she didn’t know that.

“Yeah, I thought he’d take the news better if he was having fun,” Aaron explains, he rubs his hand over his eyes and shakes his head, “I’m sorry, Jack, I don’t want you to equate bad news with your favourite places, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“So it really is just a trip to get pancakes?” Jack sits up and looks at them both. “You’re not breaking up?”

“No, we’re not, sweetheart, I promise,” Y/N assures him as she takes his hands in her own. “I love your dad, I’m never leaving him… we did want to tell you something though.”

“Y/N,” Aaron warns, he didn’t want to do it this way.

“Aaron, he’s scared, we have o tell him the truth,” she says as she sits up as well. She rests against the headboard and lets the blankets pool around her waist. She runs her hands over her shirt-covered tummy, “I’m pregnant, Jack.”

His eyes light right up, “really?” He goes to touch her belly but he doesn’t, he holds himself back. He doesn’t know if it would be weird or not.

She nods, “Yeah, I’m far enough along now that I know the baby is safe and healthy and hopefully, nothing bad can happen to it now, which is why I wanted to tell you. I didn’t want to get your hopes up if I lost it, but you’re going to have a sibling.”

“Are you okay with this, buddy?” Aaron asks, overanalyzing his facial expressions.

Jack starts to cry a bit as he nods, “I’m going to be a brother?”

“Yeah…” Y/N wants to cry too, so she rubs his arm. “It’s okay, Jack, you can be emotional.”

He covers his face as he cries, “I’m so happy, I promise!”

Y/N pulls him into a hug, crying now as well, “I’m so happy you’re happy, Jack, I’ve wanted to tell you for so long now. It was so hard keeping it a secret.”

He hugs her so tight, he rests his cheek on her shoulder and reaches out for his dad to pull him into the hug as well. So Aaron wraps his arm around them and presses his cheek to Jack's head. When he pulls back, so does Jack, he wipes his tears and smiles with all his teeth, “Do you know what it is?”

Y/N shakes her head, “Not yet, we find out next weekend. You can come with us if you want?”

“I want to,” he agrees. “Are we still going to get pancakes?”

Y/N and Aaron laugh, “Yeah buddy, we can,” Aaron agrees. “Do you want to go get ready now?”

He nods and bounces on the bed a bit before moving to hop off. As soon as his feet hit the floor he runs out the door and down the hall to his own room. He’s quick to change and then he has to wait. Y/N takes a bit longer than he and his dad to get ready, she wants to look pretty and he understands that, but he already thinks she’s the prettiest girl in the world.

He even tells his dad that.

“I know, I tell her all the time,” Aaron says with a blushy smile. “I’m really proud of you, you know that, right? You’ve been so kind and accepting of our relationship and Y/N’s always wanted a baby, so you being happy with her dream coming true means a lot to her.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

Aaron just nods, “she was married before too, but her ex-husband wasn’t a nice guy and made her feel bad for wanting a baby so bad—

“Did he not want kids?”

“No, and he lied to her. You know how babies are made, you said so yourself… well, he had a surgery done to stop him from being able to get anyone pregnant and never told her so she thought she didn’t have any good eggs, he made her feel really sad all the time. All I want is to make her happy, and that means making sure you have a good relationship with her too because we’re going to be one big family in 6 months,” Aaron explains it all to the best of his ability.

“Oh,” Jack sits back, sad for her. “That was mean of him.”

“He was really mean.”

“That makes me sad… Y/N is so nice, she didn’t deserve that,” Jack says. It’s really mature of him, he feels really bad for her.

“I know, but she’s really happy now with us,” Aaron assures. He places his hand on Jacks shoulder and smiles. “I promised to always make her happy, I’m glad you want to, too.”

And he does. He wants to make her the happiest and he thinks he knows how.

At the restaurant, they all order pancakes and a few sides, and as soon as the waitress walks away, Jack stands up. “I have to pee.”

“you know where the bathroom is?” Aaron asks, making sure he’s okay to go alone.

He nods, “I’ll be back.”

He walks towards the bathroom, which is right beside the kitchen, and out of view from their table. He stands in the doorway and waves his waitress over. “Excuse me?”

“Did you forget to order something?”

He shakes his head, “My stepmom is having a baby, can you write ‘congratulations mom’ on her pancakes with chocolate syrup like they wrote happy birthday for my birthday last year?”

She swoons, “of course, we can! That’s so sweet of you to ask, she’s going to love it.”

Jack thanks her and does head to the bathroom after, just to make sure they believed where he went. When he comes back, they carry on a conversation like normal, they ask Jack about school and he asks about work and when he’ll get to see Derek and Spencer again, he loves his uncles a lot. He has a playdate with Henry this week, so they’ll get to bond over being big brothers together and Jacks is so overjoyed with the news. He thought he’d have to just watch Henry get a brother and not get to know what it’s like, but now he will. Secretly, he hopes it's a boy, but if he got a sister he’d be okay with that too. He’d love her just as much.

“Okay, I have pancakes and bacon for Dad,” the waitress says as she places a plate in front of Aaron. “Pancakes with extra syrup on the side for the little guy… and I’ll be back with yours.”

“Okay,” Y/N smiles at her, she doesn’t mind waiting.

It takes all of 2 minutes for her to return, the waitress smiles so big the whole room shines. “Here you go, Mom,” she says as she places the plate in front of her.

Y/N’s jaw drops, “how did— Jack?” She knew it was him by the way he giggles and rubs his hands together. “Did you ask them to do this?”

He nods, “it’s a special breakfast, you said so yourself.”

Aaron looks over at her plate and reads the “congrats mom” written on the top pancake. Even he swoons.

“Jack, thank you,” Y/N says, she gets up and hugs him in the middle of the restaurant.

“You’re welcome,” he says with his face pressed to her tummy from their height difference. “I’m really happy for you and my dad, I always wanted a brother or sister… and secretly,” he whispers to her and she moves down so he can speak just to her. He cups his hand over her ear, “I wanted a step mom after my mom died.”

She hugs him again, even tighter. “I love you, Jack, I really mean it.”

“I love you, too.”

—

She brings a box of donuts into the office on Monday morning, the team watches with wide eyes as she sets the pink box down on the conference table, ready to attack like Vultures. “I know you guys already guessed and probably have a bet going, but, I wanted to tell you all… I’m pregnant too!”

“Ah!” They all shout as they stand up to congratulate her, they surround her with hugs and questions and happiness.

“Two BAU babies in one year, what am I going to do?” Penelope teases. “Should we do a combined shower?”

“Y/N gets the shower,” JJ insists. “This is my second baby, I already have everything I need from the last time, we should celebrate her.”

“Okay, so a shower and a sprinkle,” Penelope compromises.

“I’d love that, thank you, Penny,” Y/N smiles at her and then turns to look out the window to see her boyfriend talking to Anderson in the bullpen. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but Aaron will be up in a minute, he’s got some news for you too.”

“Here,” Spencer rushes over to help Y/N get into a seat. “You don’t need to be standing anymore.”

“Thanks,” she loves being pampered like this. “I’m still going to come out with you guys for a few more weeks, I’ll be moving to official desk duty at 20, maybe 25 weeks.”

“I’m not sitting out till my water breaks,” JJ teases. “And if this is anything like the first time, it’ll probably happen around 37 weeks.”

“He’s your second boy though, he might be a bit lazier,” Y/N says, she’s read all the books, and she’s talked to all the moms. Second boys typically stay in longer than usual.

“Do you know what you’re having yet?” Derek asks, he’s known the longest so this isn’t really a shock to him.

She shakes her head. “We find out on Saturday, but we think she’s a girl,” she runs her hand over her belly with a smile. “Jack wants a brother to be like Henry but he said he’ll still be happy with a sister, too.”

“How's that going to work? You and Aaron making a family while he has Jack and their own apartment?” Spencer asks, always wondering about the logistics.

She shrugs, “I think he’s planning to move Jack and himself in with me but we haven’t talked about it… I’d be fine with it, I’m just worried we’re moving too fast and Jack's going to have a hard time with it all. I mean, I’m not his mom, I can’t replace her and I don’t want to, but the kid is so darn cute and I love him to bits. Playing happy family with him would be easy.”

“Have you talked to him?” Derek asks.

She nods, “We wanted to take him out for pancakes yesterday and he thought because Aaron only takes him there for big news, that we were breaking up. So we had to tell him before we left and he’s happy, so, so happy he cried… and then he got the waitress to put ‘congrats mom’ on my pancakes. He has a room at my place now, too, and we’re going to go shopping after the ultrasound this weekend. He’s really happy with all this, I’m just scared it won’t last.”

“He is a sweet kid,” JJ agrees. “I can have Will talk to him when he comes over this week? See how he really feels about all this?”

“Yeah, that would be good,” Y/N nods.

“Can I say something?” Spencer interjects. He waits for a nod and then continues. “If someone loved my mom the way you love Aaron and they entered my life when I was 10, right after my dad left, and loved me and cared for me and made a conscious effort to make sure I felt safe and included… it would’ve made a world of difference for me. Having just 1 parent who isn’t around very much is difficult, but you’re making that hurt a bit less for him. When he says he loves you, he means it. Believe me.”

“Oh spence,” her heart breaks for him. “I had no idea?”

He shrugs, “newer members wouldn’t… but it’s okay, I have my family here, my childhood just pushed me to get here.”

Derek reaches over and rubs Spencer's arm, “and we love ya, kid.”

Spencer just nods, he bites his lip as if there’s more and he doesn’t know what to do and then it all pours out of him. “I uh… I don’t want to make this about me, please don’t—

“It’s okay, Spence,” Y/N sits up a bit straighter and stares at him with a comforting look, “We’re here for you, whatever it is.”

“My mom's doctor called me and he thinks she might be exhibiting signs of Alzheimer's and they don’t know what to do for her because they’re not a nursing home, they’re a sanatarium,” he explains with teary eyes. “I really don’t know what to do, either.”

“Bring her out here, we can get her into a facility closer to you and Will and I can help out,” JJ offers. “The boys can call her grandma, we can visit when I’m on maternity leave and you’re on a case, we can take care of her.”

“And we’ll bring Jack and the baby around too,” Y/N adds. “I’ll be off for the whole year after, maybe longer. I would love to go check on her for you.”

“We could even reach out to Dave and see if we can borrow his plane cause she doesn’t like to fly,” Penelope is already in planning mode. “We can make it as easy as possible for her.”

“You guys would really do that for her?” Spencer asks, so close to really crying.

“Of course, we would,” Derek says, still rubbing his arm to comfort him.

Aaron walks into the room then, “What’s happening?”

Spencer panics, suddenly feeling bad for sharing his personal life on company time like this is a bad thing. Y/N can see it on her face so she jumps in, “We’re just sharing some personal stuff… I can catch you up later, honey.”

“Okay…” Aaron takes a seat at the table, hesitantly. “But everything’s fine?”

They all nod, “congrats by the way,” Derek throws in.

“Oh, thanks,” Aaron starts to smile, overjoyed that everyone knew now. “As you all know, I didn’t really take time off with Jack, so I will be taking 6 months of paternity leave starting mid-September, and my replacement will be Derek. We still need to figure out who will bump up into Derek's space for the time I’m away, but we have lots of time for that.”

“I would do it, but,” JJ points down at her bump and shrugs.

“I have reached out to Emily,” Aaron adds. “She’s thinking about it, but if she says no, Spencer I would love—

“I can’t,” Spencer immediately cuts him off. “I have too much on my plate right now, I wouldn’t be the best choice.”

“Okay, well, maybe one of our new members would be willing to step up,” Hotch slides that in. The rest of them don’t even know who’s joining the team yet.

“Do we know them?” JJ asks.

He nods, “Dr. Tara Lewis is going to start next month. She’s a forensic psychologist who’s spent the last 4 years interviewing psychopathic criminals to ensure they’re fit for trial, she has a lot of insight on the criminals we’ve caught and she’ll be very handy going forward. However, the reason I’m so late is because I was telling the new guy where to put his things.”

“He’s starting today?” Y/N lights up. “Oh, you guys are going to love him. His name is Luke Alvez, he’s from the fugitive task force and he has a cute German Shepard he got when he came home from Iraq and he’s just amazing.”

“Wow, that’s high praise coming for you,” Derek teases.

“Oh hush,” she pushes back. “Aarons the first real man I’ve ever been into, I’m not normally one for the manly, in charge, leader types—

“Okay,” Aaron reaches over to hold her hand and make her stop, he’s getting a bit blushy. “Before we all get written up, the new guy is coming up in a second and we do have a case to get to.”

“That we do,” Penelope stands up with the remote in her hands. “The wheel has been spun and your destination is sunny southern California.”

—

This case is a slow one. 3 bodies over 6 months caused the case to pass by his desk and be on his radar, however, the 4th body was found only 2 weeks after the 3rd and now they’re officially on the case… but they still don’t have enough information. Knowing the timeline, a 5th body should drop within the week with a slue of new evidence for them to look over live and in person. Until then, they all head back to their hotel rooms for some much-needed rest and alone time.

Aaron leads her from the elevator to their room, he’s carrying both bags while she opens the door and lets them inside. He places the bags on the floor by the dresser with a sigh. “I am exhausted.”

“Me too,” she agrees with a matching sigh. She places her hands on her hips and sticks her belly out, trying to stretch her back which hurts more and more as their baby grows.

“Do you want to hop in the shower with me and then we can go to bed?” Aaron asks.

She nods and makes her way to the bathroom, she turns on the shower and immediately starts to undress. Aaron watches her with a delicate yes, unbuttoning each button on his dress shirt as slowly as possible so he can appreciate her as she gets naked.

“You coming?” She asks as she steps into the shower, wondering why he’s taking so long to strip.

“Mhm,” he nods, “am I not allowed to admire you?”

She gives him a knowing look, dipping her head and looking at him through her lashes, “I thought you were tired?”

“Last time I was tired after a shower, I got you pregnant,” he reminds her.

She just laughs, “We haven’t had much time to fuck since I got pregnant, have we?”

He strips out of his shirt and pushes his pants to the ground, “not really, but I don’t mind.”

“I do,” she whines. “There’s nothing I want more than to spend all my time with you in our bed, making up for lost time and appreciating what little we have left before we have a baby… but I feel weird doing it with Jack in the house.”

“He’s a heavy sleeper and he knocks before entering,” Aaron assures her.

“Still feels weird.”

Aaron doesn’t fight her, he just gets into the shower with her and watches her relax under the water. They wash off the day with complimentary body wash and share little conversations about their co-workers and even the case. They share sweet glances and soft touches and they don’t want to get out even though they know they should. She just wraps her arms around him and rests her cheek on his chest as the water cascades down her body and his strong hands hold her close.

Out of the shower, Aaron brings her all of her lotions and creams and he sets her pjs down on the bed to wait for her. He changes into fresh boxers, he checks his phone and hops into their single queen size bed all alone and awaiting her return to his side. When she does return, she smells good and she’s soft and she doesn’t change into her pjs… she stands at the foot of the bed and drops her towel, naked and on show just for him.

“I think that shower just woke me up, if anything.”

He smirks, throwing the blankets back, he beckons her closer. “Come on then,” he says, sitting up a bit so he can push his boxers off his hips and slip them down his legs.

She climbs onto the bed, crawling on her knees towards him, she helps him remove his boxers and toss them to the floor before she takes a seat in his lap. His hands soothe over her thighs, up to her hips and then her pretty little bump. He smirks, keeping his dirty comments to himself.

The head of his cock brushed her clit as she ground down on him, his hands found her hips once more as he instinctively helped her find a rhythm. He could feel how wet she was, helping her glide over him so easily, her breath hitched every time her hips bucked, she was enjoying herself just like this. It made him even more excited. She leaned in then, kissing his neck as she continued to grind down on him.

“I need you,” he gasped.

She smiled against his skin, lifting her hips enough for him to line up with her before she started to sink down on him. “Fuck,” she gasped as she sat down fully, her hands resting on Aaron's shoulders as she tried to get used to it all. Lifting herself up and grinding down little by little to get the rhythm going again.

Aaron held close as he scoots down the bed a bit, he lays back against the pillows while she stays sitting up. She rests her hands on his chest now, using him for leverage to ride him. He grips her ass, helping her rut against him but it’s hard. She really is tired and riding him takes a lot of effort with a basketball-sized bump between them. She leans in to kiss him on the lips, holding his face with one of her hands. Aaron's hands encapsulate her back, his big strong hands hold her closer

“Fuck,” he groaned, bending his knees, he pile drives up into her over and over.

She’s been a lot more sensitive since getting pregnant, the simplest, lightest touch to her clit could get her off. Each and every time their bodies connect, his groin slams against her swollen clit, exciting her more and more.

“I’m so close,” she whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek and resting her open mouth against his. They weren’t kissing, they were panting over each other with their foreheads resting together. “Aaron,” she whines, a bit louder than she expected to be.

Euphoria fills the empty spaces between them as she came, gasping and shaking over him. He’s right there behind her, sucked in deeper than before, she tightens around him and his hips sputter as he finishes deep inside her. She collapses against him only moments before she lifts her hips and rolls off of him and onto her side of the bed. Still breathing heavily, she covers her face with her arm and melts into the bed. “Holy fuck…”

Aaron laughs as he turns to his side and cuddles into her, his head on her shoulder and hand on her stomach. “Feel better?” He teases.

She nods, breathing steadying out. “Too tired to change now.”

“You gotta pee, too,” he reminds her and sits up. “Come on, the quicker we do this, the quicker we can go to bed.”

She sighs as she sits up, but she knows he’s right. He helps her back to her feet and he changes while she goes to the bathroom. When she comes back, he hands her her underwear to put on and helps her into a shirt, they fluff their pillows and get under the covers together and go right back to cuddling.

Aaron has an alarm set for tomorrow morning and the lights turn off. It’s quiet as they lay there, holding one another. “I love you,” Aaron reminds her.

“I love you, too,” she replies, smiling to herself.

He can sense she wants to keep talking until they fall asleep, she usually does. It’s something he loves about falling asleep beside her, she tells him anything and everything on her mind and it’s always sweet.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks.

“Baby names… after Saturday we’ll know who they are and we’ll have to start to really think about a name that suits them,” she explains. “You remember back when the divorce went through and we were talking about names you liked when you thought Jack was going to be a girl?”

He hums, “like it was yesterday.”

“I keep thinking about Juliet and how you said you like it… but I like it with e-t-t-e on the end, Juliette Hotchner.”

“Oh,” Aaron's heart flutters. It sounds perfect for his little girl… if he ever gets his dream of having one. A tear bubbles in his eyes, “yeah. Yeah, it sounds perfect.”

She places his hand over his, cupping her belly, and she grips it tight. He snuggles in even closer, he kisses her shoulder and lets the tears fall down. “I love you and our family.”

“We love you even more.”

—

The case ends mid-day on Friday, but by the time the plane is ready and they’re taking off, Jack is already going to bed back in D.C. with Haley’s sister, Jessica, watching over him. They land around 9pm EST and go right to Y/N’s house to sleep. Aaron texted Jess around 10, telling her that he’d be over in the morning.

When they show up Saturday morning, Jess is standing in the doorway of Aaron's apartment with a smile. “I have a proposition for you…”

“Okay?” Aaron is a bit hesitant.

“My girlfriend is getting into photography again and she’s trying to set up her portfolio, would you guys like some free maternity photos?”

Y/N's eyes light up, she doesn’t know if Jess means girlfriend like a Girlfriend or like how some women call all their friends girl-friends… either way, she’s excited. “I’d love that!”

“She’s really nice, you’ll like her,” Jack adds, apparently he’s already met her.

“Oh,” Aarons just as shocked about it. “When did you meet her?”

“On Tuesday,” Jess admits. “We already had dinner plans so she brought some takeout over and we all ate here, I hope that’s okay?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine. I’m happy you have someone, Jess,” Aaron admits, he’d never say it but he had his suspicions the longer she went without ever having a boyfriend.

She smiles even more, “Thanks, Aaron… uh, her name is Mel, by the way, she heard Jack talking about you being pregnant and she really wanted to do a shoot for you whenever you’re free.”

“I mean if tomorrow is too soon—

“Tomorrow could work, I can ask her?” Jess jumps in before Y/N even finishes her suggestion.

Y/N reaches out for Jess’ hand and pulls her close, she hugs her, “I’m so glad you’re okay with all of this.”

Jess holds her close, resting her chin on her shoulder. “Haley would’ve liked you, you know,” she whispers.

“Don’t make me cry,” Y/N tries to laugh it off, it’s weird to think how much different all this would be if she was still alive. “I’m going to do enough crying this afternoon.”

“You find out the gender today, right?” Jess asks as she pulls back.

Y/N nods, “I’m so excited to know, then we can move on to naming them.”

“Them?”

“Oh, no, it’s just one, I just find calling them ‘it’ is weird and calling them she when we don’t even know is making me feel bad cause what if I get attached to them being a girl and then they’re not? You know?”

“Oh, okay I thought you were having twins I was like… how are you going to do that with Aaron being gone all the time?”

“I’m taking 6 months paternity leave,” Aaron says and he doesn’t look too happy about the way Jess said that. “I’m still sorry I wasn’t always there for Jack, but they don’t need me as much as they did back then. I had 4 new members, and we were getting the team off the ground again. I can leave easier this time.”

“What do you mean, Dad?” Jack asks, not ever thinking anything was wrong about his childhood.

“I’m sorry,” Jess slips in first. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Aaron sighs and he ruffles Jack's hair, “I worked a lot when you were a baby.”

“But you saved people, that’s worth it,” Jack understands.

“He did,” Jess agrees too, even though he couldn’t save the one person that meant the most to all of them.

“Okay,” Y/N cuts into the tension with a knife. “Jack, are you ready to go? I was thinking we could go shopping before the appointment instead, okay?”

He nods, “I have to grab my backpack.”

“Where are you guys going to go?” Jess asks as she grabs her purse, she’s going to leave now too.

“Ikea,” Y/N enthuses. “We’re going to get a lot of stuff, so hopefully it all fits in the SUV.”

“If not, their delivery options aren’t too bad,” Jess eases her mind. “And I’m free most of the time so if it delivers while you’re gone I can be there for you.”

“Thank you,” Y/N really appreciates it.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Jack cheers as he comes running back.

They all take the elevator down to the parking lot, they say goodbye to Jess and Aaron helps Jack into the back of the SUV. “Have you been thinking about your new room, bud?” Aaron asks.

He nods, “Can we do a superhero theme?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N’s actually excited about that. “Are we thinking Batman and Superman or Iron Man and Captain America?”

“The X-men…”

“Oh,” she’s surprised by that. “That sounds cool, we can get some Wolverine sheets and some artwork of the beast and Professor X? Maybe even something for Mystique, she’s my favourite.”

Jack’s smile lights up his whole face, he can’t believe she knows this much about the X-Men, it’s impressive. So much so, that he feels comfortable completely geeking out with her on the drive to Ikea. He talks nonstop about his favourite comics, the characters and their plots, explaining to her just how cool he thinks Jean Grey is and how he can’t wait to see them make a movie about her one day. What Jack doesn’t know is that while they’re talking, Y/N is searching the internet on her phone for some cool posters about the characters he says he loves so his room can be fully decorated to reflect his passions.

When they arrive, Jack is so full of energy he takes Y/N’s hand and he drags her into the store, raving on about what colours he wants his sheets to be and how happy he is to have a room he can decorate again.

“I even asked Derek if we can paint the walls and do wallpaper and he said we can do what ever we want in there,” Y/N explains, “we can fully redecorate it together.”

“That’s because it’s not Dereks house anymore,” Aaron throws in, making them both turn to him with shocked expressions.

“What?” Y/N asks, not knowing anything about this.

“I bought it… I wanted our family to have a place to grow and be happy altogether and it’s perfect for us, there’s room for Jack to have his own room, the baby has a room and there’s a 4th room for if we ever have more, it’s perfect for us so now it’s ours. The papers are all ready, we just have to sign them on Monday.”

“Oh my god!” Y/N cheers a bit too loudly for being in the store. “Aaron?”

“When do we move in?” Jack asks, getting right to the important stuff.

Aaron laughs as he wraps his arm around Y/N and pulls them both into a hug. “You two get along so famously I couldn’t keep us separate anymore.”

“I love you,” she rushes out. She can’t find any other words that fit the situation, she just loves him and how much he thinks about their family.

—

With 40 minutes to get to their appointment, they finally check out with more things than they expected to buy. They got night lights, bed sheets, burp cloths, swaddle blankets, stuffed toys, a crib and baby mattress, mattress protectors, room decor and trinkets, shelves, a changing table and even ordered a rocking chair to be delivered sometime next week… they not only found everything for Jack but the baby’s room as well.

The baby they’re about to know a little bit more about in a few minutes.

They say hi to Savannah in the ER and then make their way up to the Obstetrics floor. They have a short sit in the waiting room and then they’re ushered into a little room with ultrasound equipment. Jack and Aaron sit side by side in two chairs while Y/N’s on the exam table, her shirt up over her belly and pants unbuckled with a piece of absorbent towel tucked into them to catch the excess jelly. And they wait.

“Have you ever seen an ultrasound before, Jack?” Y/N asks.

He shakes his head, “No… does it hurt?”

She laughs lightly, “No, buddy, it doesn’t hurt. They use sound waves to see through skin and tissue and observe the baby inside the amniotic fluid.”

“Cool!” Jack nods, sitting up in his seat and wiggling excitedly.

“Knock knock,” Dr. Connors says as she opens the door. “Oh my, we have a full house today.”

“Jack, this is our doctor, Sam Connors,” Aaron introduces her. “Sam, this is my son, Jack.”

“Hi,” he waves to her.

“Welcome, welcome,” she smiles at him. “Are you guys ready to know the gender or are we keeping it a secret?”

“We’re ready,” Y/N’s quick to answer. She’s giddy with excitement. “You can tell us when you know, we’re not doing a party or anything so you don’t have to write it down like some couples ask you to.”

“Oh, good that makes this easier for me,” Dr. Conners lets out a sigh of relief. “Its so hard not to slip up and say the right pronoun after I see what’s goin’ on.”

“We’re ready,” Y/N says with an unbreakable smile. “So, so ready.”

“And I have to remind you that because this is the 12 weeks can the gender can be hard to tell, we can do blood testing to double check but if they’re in the right position I can probably tell,” she adds.

“That’s okay, I know sometimes people wait 'till 20 weeks but if you can tell now, I want to know now,” Y/N adds.

Dr. Connors is quick to squeeze some warmed jelly onto her belly, she grabs the wand and starts to search for their ever-growing little one. She mumbles to herself, “There you are,” as the baby pops up on the screen. “I’m just going to go through and take some measurements and mark the important things and then I’ll turn to you, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Y/N nods.

Holding Aaron's hand as he sits beside her, she squeezes him for reassurance. And he squeezes back 3 times. A silent “I love you” just for them to know about.

Time tends to stand still in moments like these. The week of waiting blew by, she can’t believe that this time last week she was putting a bunk bed in jacks room, nervous as hell to tell him about the baby and now they’re all in a room waiting to see said baby. Jack's giddy, she’s overjoyed and Aaron… Aaron glows. His eyes gleam, and his smile is small but it packs a punch with all the emotions he’s trying so hard to conceal. he’s the strong stoic type on the outside, but inside he is a proud father, a loving life partner and the most gentle, beautiful, wonderful man she’s ever known in her whole life.

There was a time when she only looked at him like her boss. Her hot boss, but her superior nonetheless. Somewhere between realizing the team was her new family and getting to know him as a lifeline and not a leader, she fell in love with him. It was seamless, too. The way she fell out of love with Peter and into love with Aaron, her heart ebbed and flowed with the emotions and the hurt wasn’t too bad because she had him… she doesn’t know pain because Aaron hasn’t left her, and my god, she hopes he never does.

“Okay,” Sam announces, ripping Y/N from her thoughts. She turns the screen to them and flicks through the screenshots she has taken with labels on everything. “Everything looks good, we’re measuring at 3.6 millimetres, which is just point 1 more than the average ‘normal’ length. Their heart and brain are looking good. On your last blood test, all the screenings came back negative and I’m not seeing any abnormalities or defects, either.”

Jack's now standing beside her on the table, he wants to be as close as possible to see the baby. “It doesn’t look like a baby,” he exclaims.

“It’s hard to see but here,” Sam flicks back to the live screen and moves the wand so the baby is in a better position. “This is the head, this is their spine, you can see their little arms and legs here… it’s super tiny, about the size of a plum, or a crab apple. You could hold it in just one hand, that’s how tiny a baby is at 12 weeks.”

“Oh,” Jacks a bit taken aback by that. “how many more weeks are left?”

“28,” Y/N is quick to reply, she’s been counting down since week 1.

“Wow,” he breathes out, his shoulders dropping and all the tension leaves his body. “Do you know if it's a girl or a boy yet?”

Sam nods, “I do… do you want to come over and read the screen for me?”

He nods and walks over to her on the other side of the table, Sam turns the screen to him and flicks back to one of the screenshots with the gender labelled. “You see right there, what does it say?”

Jack gasps and tears bubble in his eyes, and for a split second, Y/N’s heart drops. She’s sure he’s about to read that it’s a boy. He wanted a brother. She had it wrong in her mind this whole time… and then he says it.

“Female… I’m having a sister.”

Y/N cries out a happy sob, she clutches her eyes shut and covers her face with her free hand. She can’t believe it. She’s going to have a little girl, a tiny mini-me… or maybe a headstrong, confident little girl who mirrors her dad. Either way, she’s beyond happy.

Aaron rubs her arm, also crying, “Happy tears?”

At first, all she can do is nod as she calms down. “I can’t believe we were right,” she says through the tears. “Oh my god!”

“Congrats, guys,” Sam swoons. She’s overjoyed by this reaction, “I’m going to print out a bunch of pictures for you—

“Can I have one?” Jack asks, cutting her off.

“Of course,” Sam doesn’t mind. She prints out a long strand of photos from every angle, some with descriptions and some without. And she prints out another single sheet of the best photo just for Jack.

Dr. Connors cleans up her belly, goes over a few more things and they schedule another appointment for 20 weeks. She has Sam’s number if they need to contact her before then, but after that, they’re good to go home.

Aaron texts Jess the good news while Y/N is readjusting her pants and giving her belly an extra wipe down before she lowers her shirt, the jelly is so sticky after it dries she still doesn’t feel totally clean but it’s the best she can do right now.

Jess has talked to Mel and she is free tomorrow so they’re going to be able to take lots of early maternity photos and they have enough ultrasound pics to include in the shoot. Y/N's mind is racing the whole way back to the car about what she wants to do, what she’ll wear, where they’ll take them… she’s never gotten this far before. She never thought she would.

“Hey, Aaron,” she asks quietly in the car.

“Hm?” He hums, keeping his eyes on the road but one hand comes off the steering wheel to hold hers over the centre console.

“Would you be okay with me posting some of the photos on my Facebook? I haven’t even told my parents yet and I kinda want to just announce to everyone at the same time…”

“Yeah, that would be okay with me,” He doesn’t mind at all.

“Okay good, I know you don’t have an account and Jess and JJ aren’t allowed to post Jack but, I just want to post something about this,” she explains.

It's actually something she admires about him, the way he keeps Jack safe from the creeps of the world. It's so easy for people to see his name on the news when he does press conferences and google him that he worries someone could find out about Jack and snatch him up as revenge or just because they could… they’ve seen way too much at work to not be helicopter parents.

“I won’t post her face or anything when she’s born and Penelope helped me with my safety features when I first joined the team, so we’ll be safe… I just always dreamed about posting a bump photo and telling everyone about my baby one day.”

“I trust your judgement, sweetheart,” he says, caressing her hand with his thumb. “She’s not just my baby, you can set boundaries for her too.”

“I know… sometimes I forget you’re not like him,” she whispers.

“Like who?” Jack asks, cause of course he was listening in.

“Uh…” she looks to Aaron for some support, she has no idea what’s appropriate to tell him and what isn’t.

“Remember I told you she had a mean ex-husband?” Aaron asks, looking at Jack through the rearview.

He nods. “Yeah…”

“His name was Peter and he was a bit of a control freak, he’s like one of those mean kids at school who make you follow all the rules to a game and will stop the game to tell you where you went wrong or kick you out of the group,” she simplifies it for him.

“The worst,” Jack says and rolls his eyes. “I’m happy you picked my dad instead.”

“I didn’t really pick him,” she admits, turning back to look at him with a smile. “Falling in love isn’t that simple, it kinda just happens.”

Jack smiles back. “like fate?”

She nods, trying not to cry because that’s the most sweetest and perfect way to put it. “Exactly.”

This is where she was always meant to be.

—

One thing she forgot to do in the midst of the divorce and moving on, was delete Peter's family from her Facebook friends. She barely uses the site, so of course it slipped her mind until it was too late.

She posts 1 picture from their maternity shoot, her belly under lace with the sun setting in the background. It’s beautiful. She adores the photo so it’s the one she picked to share, alongside some ultrasound photos, a single pink rose and the caption “baby girl Hotchner coming this September”

She couldn’t believe she got to this point, sharing that she’s pregnant with her family and friends, having a big belly or this tremendous burst of love that courses through her veins as she reads all the comments of congratulations.

And then she see’s it.

Peter's mother commented.

“I always knew you’d be beautiful pregnant. So happy to hear your dreams are coming true, dear. Congratulations to you and your new family.”

It’s nicer than she expected. She knew that Peter’s mom was a sweetheart, but she also knew that he was her only baby and she sometimes took that a little too far… she was the type of boy mom that Y/N never wanted to become.

She simply replies, “Thank you so much, Jane<;3”

She doesn’t get a comment back, instead she gets a private message. “I was sad to know you broke up but after hearing why, I’m so, so sorry for what Peter did to you. He never even told me he had the vasectomy.

I would love to send you some things I made during the first few years of your marriage to my son, I always wanted a grandchild, but now that I know I’ll never have one I’d still love for your baby to have a homemade blanket from me. You’re going to be a wonderful mom.”

Her heart breaks for Jane. She would’ve been a good grandma, Mimi is actually what she wanted to be called. There were so many conversations they had about names and birth plans and nurseries… and Peter kept his mouth shut during all of them. He broke both of their hearts.

So she types back, “My friends at work are throwing me a baby shower in August, you’re more than welcome to come.”

It takes a few hours but Jane finally responds a little after 11. Y/N and Aaron are just about to go to sleep. He’s in the bathroom, she’s in bed on her phone about to set an alarm and turn it off. But she opens the message anyway.

“You know where to send the invitation. I’ll see what I can do. And don’t worry, I won’t bring Pete. We’re not really speaking at the moment. I’ll always love you as a daughter, Y/N. I’m so glad we’re still able to talk.”

She never would’ve thought an olive branch would grow out of the hostile ground of her divorce, yet here she is. Reaching out to a woman she was once related to, with things they can now relate to.

Horrible ex-husbands.

“What are you smiling at over there?” Aaron asks as he comes back into the room, in nothing but his boxers.

She looks up from her phone and sighs, smile only widening. “Life is so weird sometimes.”

Aaron makes his way to the bed, he kneels on the end and crawls up to her only to lay on his stomach between her legs and rest his head lightly on her belly. “Weird but beautiful.”

“Peter’s mom has been messaging me… she’s really happy for us and not talking to her son,” she shares.

He perks back up, “Really?”

She nods, “I’m not sure if she knows about the abuse but she knows about the vasectomy and she’s furious. She wants to send me all the blankets and things that she made when we started trying… so I invited her to the baby shower.”

“Luckily we’ll have a bunch of agents there to escort her if things get dicey…”

“I don’t think they will,” she says, locking her phone, she places it on her night table and runs her fingers through Aaron's hair. “But if it gives our baby 1 more grandma, I’m willing to hear her out.”

“You’re a good person,” Aaron compliments.

“You’re just rubbing off on me.”

His brows arch. “I mean, I’m not currently.”

She lightly swats his cheek, “you pig!”

He just laughs and snuggles back into her belly. “You love it.”

She just sighs and lays back, still running her fingers through his hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too… and you three, Jules,” he whispers to her belly and then kisses her bump gently.

“So we’re set on Juliette, like firmly? It’s happening?”

He just nods. “Yep, my baby Juliette. Jules, Julie, juju… I will be calling her all of those nicknames.”

She lets out a little giggle. Smiling to herself, he mind wanders to middle names. “I want to ask Jack for help with her middle name, do you think he’d like that?”

“He’d love to,” Aaron knows that. “Just look at all his other reactions, the boy is obsessed with getting to have a sister.”

“He’s going to be the best big brother.”

“You’re going to love him, Julie,” Aaron whispers to her bump. “You’re going to love everyone we know, you’re going to be so loved baby girl. So, so loved.”

@mrs-ssa-hotch @14buddy22 @spottedzebrasinpartyhats

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@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86 @ssamorganhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #hotch smut #hotch x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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uncouth-the-fifth · 5 months

Text

pythia, a supernatural rewrite. phantom traveler, p.3

read it on ao3.

words: 14k notes: hello!!! on the wings of an absolute ARMY of betas, here is a fresh new chapter for you!! since the last one was a little short i took the time to really flesh this one out. I'm a shy idiot who is SO bad at responding, but i see your comments and they mean the world to me. i literally have a folder on my computer full of the sweet words this fic has been given, and i think i've re-read the comments in that folder at least a million times over by now. ty so much for reading, and i hope you enjoy!! bloody mary is next! a very special thank you to my beta readers, bear, M, venice, feeb, and daff, who easily made this my best chapter yet. thank you specifically for keeping me coherent and sane lol <3

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 4th.

You don’t have to be psychic to know precisely what your mother is going to say when she answers the phone. She’ll pick up on the fourth ring with an occupied, scathing drawl and say, Look who finally has cell service.

Alright. So you’re not the best, most communicative daughter in the world. You call when you can, you honestly do, but there’s not exactly loads of emotional bandwidth to spare on the road. Peeling off all the layers of case anxiety and Winchester grief takes a while, dammit!

Maybe you’d feel less guilty if you vented to Sam or Dean, but it’s kind of lousy to bitch about Mom-stuff to, uh. Yeah. The boys. You could use a simple, uncomplicated statement like, talking to my Mom reminds me of how much of a disappointment I must be to her, and Dean would hear matricide instead. Sam’s blank, uncomprehending look wouldn’t be much better. Looks like you’re alone on this one.

When there’s a natural break in the day’s long research-fest the three of you are riding, you slip away, pace beside the Impala for a while, then finally bite the bullet and call her. Cars whisk through the slurry of snow on the road. Your phone charms rattle in the icy breeze. One ring, two rings… She knew you were going to call, she could sense it, but of course she has to torture you… three rings, four.

“I didn’t know cell service was so hard to come by in Pittsburg,” Beth greets you, sounding preoccupied. Damn, do you know her well or what?

“Hey, Mom,” you sigh. The wind is loud, so you pull your phone further down your face and try to come up with an excuse that is even halfway reasonable. “Sorry I haven’t called. It’s been ages since I’ve been around the boys, and I guess I get a little caught up with them sometimes.”

This is objectively true. She used to have a rule about you getting your homework done before they came over, purely because you forgot about everything and anything else the second Sam and Dean entered the house.

“Forget those losers. You’re my baby, I love you most,” Beth gushes, and you understand that this is her way of saying that you’re forgiven. Both of you have fallen victim to the Winchester spell before, so she can’t exactly blame you.

You’re a little embarrassed by her mushiness, but a relieved, bubbly laugh jumps out of you. “Alright, consider them forgotten. Now… I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m gonna ask you a question, and I need you not to freak out or overthink it, kay?”

Beth snorts. “You mean my two jobs as a mother? Go ahead, shoot.”

This is not the kind of question that you just “shoot,” though. It takes you a moment to string together how you’re going to ask this, and of course, you’re nothing but graceful and delicate about it. “...What do you know about demons?”

Your mother doesn’t say anything for a long, yawning second. Still, you can sense her rising swarm of questions and outrage all the way from Pennsylvania, and you try to stop her onslaught before it starts. “Hey! No questions! Just answers. I promise I would tell you if this was outrageously dangerous.”

“Then you’ve already broken your promise,” Beth utters, slipping into her Sage Grandmaster Psychic voice. Just hearing it makes you deflate. She predicts, “...Let me guess. You’ve felt nauseous. Suffocated. Hungry, but everything you eat comes right back up again.”

You toe a chunk of ice on the asphalt with your boot, grumbling, “...Yeah.”

“Then you’re lucky,” she reveals, her words still ringing with the same crystal ball clarity from your childhood. “That means you haven’t come into direct contact with it yet. I’d hope you never would, but… you are your father’s daughter…”

You know your mom. You know that’s just her way of warning you about the kind of danger you’re in, here, but all the comment does is bolster your resolve. Damn right. You are his motherfuckin’ daughter.

“Tell me,” you push.

Beth sighs through her nose. There’s a squeak on the other line, and you can imagine her at home, dropping heavily into the massive, millennia-old armchair she always took her readings in.

“Demons… well, I won’t explain to you what you can already guess. They’re unlike most legends we know of, because everything that’s written about them is utterly true. Most spirits that walk the natural earth are here to feed—vampires, werewolves—or to take care of unfinished business. But demons… they come to earth to steal, kill, and destroy.”

Welp. Your mother is truly a pillar of optimism. You’d been hoping she’d say something along the lines of, don’t worry, sweetheart, they’re just really messed up ghosts. Instead of, y’know. The most evil creatures man encountered in the bible. Bible, capital B. An uncomfortable, existential shiver rolls down your spine. Now this was something you could bitch to Dean and Sam about.

You’d grown up surrounded by the idea of demons. Even before you’d fully understood that monsters were real, sometimes you’d slip into your mother’s reading parlor while she was gone and play a game with the strange, segmented star pattern on the giant worn-smooth carpet. Don’t hop on any of the lines! Only step in the points of the star! Or, jump from sigil to sigil!

The one time you’d gotten carried away and played for too long, your mother had appeared through the beaded curtain with a stiff frown on her face. Don’t play on the devil’s trap. It’s not a toy.

There was the fraying devil’s trap in your mother’s parlor room, which was one of the hundreds of sigils burned into your mind at a young age. You’d shaken hands with demon hunters before. Most of the rituals your family practiced were in Latin; and the list went on and on into oblivion. You’d always known demons existed, but as you pace the parking lot and take in what Beth is telling you, the ramifications start to stack. Demons. Actual, literal demons. The thing that took down flight 2485—the suffocating, unimaginable presence from your vision—was a real-life demon. When you’d stood in the skeletal remains of the plane and reached out with your Gift, you’d been sensing the lingering presence of a fucking creation of Lucifer. What the actual fuck.

In a strange, backward way, you’re kind of relieved. Anyone would be fainting all over the place in the presence of an actual, real-life demon. Especially somebody like you, with all their senses turned up to 100. It makes sense that you were having such intense reactions before.

What the fucking fuck. You’re suddenly grateful to be on the phone with your mom.

You wandered toward the Impala, (checked first that you weren’t wearing the kind of jeans with the little studs that would scrape the paint), then leaned against it. “...Um. Okay. That’s just… awesome… How do they get… up here, then?”

“I’m not sure,” your mother hums, thinking. “Your great-great-aunt Miriam wrote in her records that they find their way top-side on their own. Bugs through cracks, that sort of thing. Apparently, there used to be a whole lot more of em’—in Miriam’s day it was a Proctor’s job to shove them back where they belonged, but… I dunno.” Beth helpfully jokes, “Maybe we got most of them.”

You huff out a laugh, but it’s not the most sincere. “Maybe we did,” you cough. “But, um, do we have any Proctor family secrets that could help me out here? Did great-great-aunt Miriam have a trunk somewhere full of demon-killing grenades or something?”

Beth smirks. “Great-great-aunt Miriam turned the house into a brothel and carved terrifying sigils in all the ceilings. That’s all we got from her.”

Of course. How could you possibly forget? “Oh, huh. I was wondering why we have old chains and whips in the basement. That fills in a lot more for me, thank you.”

Your mom barks out a laugh at your joke, which gets you laughing too. The sound trails off. There’s that funny pause where you both remember what you just said, then start giggling all over again—and man, does it feel good to just have a moment with your mom. The boys both have an unforgiving radar for “bonding,” and the second they realize that you love them and they’re your friends, they creep right back into their shells. Neither of them were very good at absorbing that sort of thing.

Your mom is just as skilled at spoiling the moment.

“But, seriously…” She stresses. “Please be careful. Avoid contact with these things at all costs, especially with your Gift. It’s made to find the truth, and demons are made of lies. Not a good mix. They’ll rip into your mind… take you apart if they have to. This is a lot more hands-on than you should ever be with your Gift, ____.”

“...Right,” you say through your teeth.

This is the part where you start awkwardly shoving in a goodbye without coming across as an asshole. You open your mouth, about to say something stiff and unsure, when you sense a spike of alarm ripple out from where the boys are still researching in your motel room.

Phone call forgotten, you jolt off the Impala and whip towards the door. Not a second later, Dean’s slipping out onto the stoop and sweeping the parking lot with a calm, guarded stare. He doesn’t look at you—just gestures you inside, holding the door open. Even from the parking lot, you can make out the insane amount of notes and papers Sam has coated your motel room with.

“Jerry just called,” Dean utters. “The surviving pilot from 2485? Chuck Lambert? …He just went down in a plane crash.”

You snap your phone shut and follow him inside.

The three of you head to the site of the next crash as fast as you can. But first, you have the pleasure of watching the boys play Winchester Telepathy when you insist on coming along. They’re still worried. You would be too, in their position. (In fact, if the roles were reversed, you’d probably chain Sam to a radiator and call it a day.) But Chuck went down in a twin plane, not a massive, two-hundred-person graveyard, so your Gift should have the legs to handle it.

…And knowing what you’re dealing with has steeled your confidence. You weren’t slashing at the dark anymore, even if what was in the dark was, um. Proof that hell exists. After days of being totally screwed over by this thing, you finally had even the slightest leg up on what was going on. You were going to take that win and run with it.

Chuck’s twin plane was hardly a twin anymore; both the engines had been shredded, the white body of the cockpit twisted like a wrung-out washcloth. The plane had dove so hard into the farmland that the snow around it had melted. You still kind of felt like tossing your lunch, but more out of sympathy than psychic backlash. People had been in that plane. The thought made you taste bile.

Sam and Dean only hover a little bit (a lot) while you open your Gift to the wreckage. You take your glove off with your teeth and touch your right hand to the ashen, snow-soaked remains of the pilot’s chair… and there it was again, the leeching, seeping, violating presence from the vision that’d brought all of you to Pittsburg. A demon.

Your Gift wrings out another scraggly, disconnected vision for you. Chuck was beyond anxious to get back in the saddle after 2485. The co-pilot, Lou, had pep-talked him like any good friend would, reassuring him that the flight would go smoothly. After that, everything—gassing up the engine, takeoff, and the brutal, horrific crash—was blotted with poison ink. Every time you tried to steer towards Chuck with your senses, it was as if the strip of film playing your vision had been burned away. His face had been scratched out of every frame. He had become something else; something terribly familiar.

The research Sam had compiled began to link with what you’re seeing. You could feel, even through the leftover wisp of the demon’s presence on the plane, that it had done this many times before.

You jolted to your feet, scrubbing the palm with the eye tattoo off on your slacks. Dean and Sam reeled back, since they’d both been looming an inch behind you as you worked.

“What’s the verdict, doc?” Dean said, bracing himself.

You turn from the wreckage and bee-line straight for the road, eager to avoid a repeat of last time. The boys follow your lead. They fall into step on either side of you, and for once you feel like the specialist Sam always said you were, complete with stern-faced bodyguards.

“Full-on Pazuzu, just like last time,” you confirm, cursing. You shove your glove back on and stomp through the snow. “I-I get it now. God, it feels so fucking obvious. It’s—it’s playing. It finds these disasters, or it makes them, and then it picks off all the survivors one by one. Chuck Lambert, George Phelps. It possessed them. Like some sort of twisted cosmic-order thing.”

Sam pulls a face. “Final Destination style?”

“Minus the hot girls and the tanning beds, apparently,” Dean pouts.

“It’s trying to finish them off, boys,” you say, swallowing hard. “That’s something we can work with. If it’s only using disasters to do the job, then…”

“...then we need to see if any of the survivors are flying soon,” Sam realizes, finishing your thought.

The second the Impala’s on the road again, Sam is fishing out the passenger manifests from the first flight and chasing down any phone numbers he can find. There is a part of every hunt where your run is forced to become a sprint, and this is that turn-over moment, tensions ramping high. What once was seven people is now five.

As Dean hauls ass back to Pittsburg, you and Sam get to calling. You thank the Mother Goddess above for shitty, awful customer service, because posing as some lousy Delta Airlines representative has Dennis Holloway sitting in seat 21A and Kathleen Willard (seat 25E) swearing off flying for good. Sam uses a similar tactic on Blaine Sanderson (seat 14D). The two of you take the safe bet that the parents of Ava Struder (seat 1C), an unaccompanied minor, aren’t fucking idiots dumping their kid on another flight the second she survives one. That leaves you with Amanda Walker. A flight attendant on 2485… because of course, this job can never be easy.

Sam tries her phone. While it rings, you cross your fingers and hope that she has quit her job and started a new life as a dedicated couch potato. Sam’s forced to leave a message. He snaps his flip phone shut with a curse and throws it into the footwell, where it clatters against his boots.

You curl a cold hand around Sam’s shoulder, soothing, “Gimme the list, baby. I’ll try her emergency contact, at least find out where she is.”

Sam sulkily passes it to you, never once shifting under your hand. You do get a small, grateful look from him over his shoulder, and the urgency and anxiety there makes your gut twist. It would be more than easy to comfort him, to stroke your fingers through his hair, to rub his collar and tell him everything’s going to be fine.

But you’re a shit liar, so you open up your phone and make the next call. Sam’s lingering gaze ducks back down into his lap.

Of course, your luck continues to flourish. Amanda doesn’t answer her phone. But her sister does, and she informs you that Amanda, being a flight attendant, is in fucking Indianapolis for a flight. Indianapolis. As in, a good five-hour drive from Philly—and in the complete opposite direction of where you were going. Dean barely waits until the road is wide enough to turn the Impala around. The u-ey he hits sends you, and all your stuff, careening from the right end of the bench all the way to the left.

The drive is not fast. Staring ahead and silently revving yourself up can only waste so much time, so you pull out the mini sewing kit from under the seat and do your best to patch a rip in Dean’s jeans, struggling to thread the needle even more than usual. You feel a bit like a bad hunter distracting yourself from what’s ahead, but just one of you stuffing the car with anxious brooding is enough. Sam passes back a sudoku booklet for you and then goes straight back to his thousand-yard stare.

He used to be excellent when things came down to the wire like this. After years spent in empty motel rooms, counting pennies and waiting for John and Dean to come home, Sam’s patience was unimaginable. But losing Jess… had tilted his axis. These last few hunts, you’ve noticed how crazed he gets on the last couple steps to the finish line—when none of you are sure if there’ll be anybody to save. It happens. But you’re scared of what another round of it could do to Sam, even with a stranger like Amanda; he cared so much…

Dean isn’t happy, either, but he at least has something to do. He alternates between playing brain-melting Metallica or forgetting to reload the tape, so the drive is a strange mix of music you can feel in your eardrums and silence that’s just as loud. The first piece of levity you get is thirty straight minutes of Dean over-explaining the album to you. And, thank god you ask, because Dean rattling on about the “bass and drums feeding off each other” and the “musical integrity of a locked-in rhythms section” bring Sam out of his trance. He pries his eyes away from the rolling fields of snow, scrunches up his face, and sighs, “Can we at least listen to ‘...And Justice for All?’”

You’re an excellent tactician, so you use this opening to nudge them both toward the most surefire argument starter in the Winchester handbook: What’s the best album of all time? It would’ve been harder to lure flies into honey. Dean argues more with himself than he argues with the two of you, dancing indecisively between Zeppelin II, Dark Side of the Moon, and at least twenty other albums that you are vaguely aware exist. Sam outlines that there is a difference between someone’s favorite album (Californication in Sam’s case) and the best album objectively by sales (Thriller).

All three of you play into the argument more than usual. Guess you’re not the only one desperate to think about something other than the two hundred other people who might die tonight. By the time there’s enough of a break in the conversation for you to throw your hat into the distraction-ring, you’re thirty minutes from the Indianapolis International Airport.

“Both of you are wrong,” you decide. “There’s only one reasonable answer to that question, and it’s Rumours.”

Dean audibly grumbles, and when the Impala jams to a stop in front of a red light, he dramatically points at you in the rear-view mirrors and declares: “You are obligated by hippie, witchy-girl bullshit to love that album, Proctor. And it’s good, but it’s not the best. It’s mostly…” he flashes you a mean, big-brother smile, “girly music.”

You know you’re right, so his comment rolls right over you. Cooly, you remind him, “Nuh-uh. Sam loves Fleetwood Mac, too.”

You’d figured that was a good counter-point, since Sam was hardly girly. The hand he was using to keep his notepad on his knee was all kinds of veiny and calloused, and on top of being taller than Dean, he was a lot more comfortable with his masculinity. He didn’t have mile-long lashes or glazed donut cheekbones, either.

Sam hums in agreement, like you knew he would; the two of you listened to Go Your Own Way and The Chain endlessly before he left for school. Sometimes he’d even dance around the attic at home with you.

Dean side-eyes his brother, then barks out a hearty laugh. “Case in point.”

Sam elects to pretend he didn’t hear that, and instead turns around to talk straight to you: “I mean, the end of Silver Springs alone…”

…Maybe if Dean listened to more “girly music,” he’d have more women melting over him the way you melt when Sam says that. Even though you’ve gotten used to having him in front of you again, there are moments like these where you’re stunned by how similar the two of you still are. Dreams would play in your attic and Sam would already be offering you his hands, gangly and shy and bright red for you and only you…

You listened to Silver Springs a lot after Sam started dating Jessica.

INDIANAPOLIS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - Dec. 4th, night.

All three of you must’ve been hyper-planning what to do the second the Impala parked, because you fan out as soon as Dean jams the break.

Sam uncaps the travel-sized hand sanitizer from your purse and empties it out onto the pavement. You’re a little sad to say goodbye to pumpkin cupcake, but then he starts pouring as much holy water as he can into the teeny bottle, and you’re reminded how clever he is. When Dean gives him a weird look, Sam explains, “3.4 ounces or less per liquid item, dude.”

“Shit,” Dean curses. Right. Travel size restrictions. That cuts your only physical weapon against the demon in half—or into a fucking fifth, I guess. But it’s something. “At least he’ll fuckin’ smell good when we send him to hell. Great.”

You give Sam the marshmallow pumpkin latte sanitizer, too. You’re going to look painfully suspicious walking into an airport with nothing but hand sanitizer and an occult journal, but there’s nothing you can do. There’s no time to check bags or trudge through security lines. Hopefully you won’t have to board, but knowing your luck…

You’re about to go peeling out of the parking lot at top speed, when you turn your boot and feel the warm piece of metal pressed against your ankle. Shit. “God, this is stupid,” you curse, and drop onto a knee. You lose the pocket knife in your boot, then dig around for the loose rock salt shells rolling around in your pockets. There’s a visible pout on your face when you abandon your iron knuckles. Anything that’d be caught by security or picked up on a metal detector goes straight into the trunk.

When you pull your butterfly knife out of your bra, Sam is suddenly very interested in the color of the sky.

The boys follow suit. By the time you’re through the doors and among the harried, criss-crossing crowd of travelers, you’ve lost ten pounds in weapons each. Dean grumbles the whole way about feeling naked. Everything in the airport is overstimulating, even at this time of night. The long, endless squares of glass looking out over the runway reflect the too-bright lights in big glossy spots, and the air is flooded with a constant stream of intercom updates and civilian chatter. You duck and weave all the way to the departure schedule, which is just the right font size to make you anxious.

Sam scans the chart. “They’re boarding in thirty minutes.”

Shit. You wrack your mind for something that could coax Amanda off her flight. But the gears in your head are suddenly muddy, and Dean’s faster than you, anyway. His eyes dart around the floor of the airport. “Okay… we still got some cards to play. We need to find a phone.”

Sam and Dean dart off like twin bomb-sniffing dogs. You move to follow them, but something tethers you in place. The buzzing, bustling commotion in the air pitches up, and then your ears are ringing, and your whole body is stinging with the ugly leeching feelings from before. The demon. It’s close.

You blindly walk in the direction your internal Winchester compass gives you, and just when Dean’s about to take a courtesy phone off its hook, your body extracts the phone from his hand on autopilot. For a brief flickering moment, you’re not yourself. Your powers talk through you.

Your Gift foresees, “That won’t work. Your only option is to board the plane.”

The boys exchange an unsettled look. For a second you’re confused why they’re giving you their Freaked Out faces, then you feel the hollow plastic of the phone in your hand, and you realize you’re a whole twenty feet from where you started. Man… you hate the whole psychic-possession thing. Just for fun, your Gift loves to take over and course-correct you when it thinks you’re being stupid. You drop the phone back on its hook with a heavy click. It takes Dean a second to answer, and he’s still giving you that look. After a long pause, he knocks up his chin and not-so-happily mutters, “...Uh, okay.”

Sam, at least, has learned to roll with your weird psychic bullshit. His voice is soft with conviction. “Fine. Plan B, then. We gotta get on that plane.”

You run your palms down your face, then steel yourself. There’s no other way, and no time to second-guess. Even your Gift has decided it’s your best plan. “Okay. Fuck it.”

The usual authority in Dean’s voice hikes up with a note of panic. “Uh, woah. Let’s just hold on a second–”

“Dean,” you wince, and your hands drop heavily at your sides. “We gotta. I’m sorry.”

Sam, per usual, reads Dean’s hesitance as something else. “That plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board. And if we’re right, it’s gonna crash. We have to–”

You watch as they have their usual back and forth; Sam, eager to throw himself at this, and Dean gnawing on the inside of his cheek. It’s easy for you to sense the steam of real, nail-biting terror radiating off your best friend. You feel Dean’s fear all the time–and even then it’s hard for you to picture him being afraid of much of anything, much less planes. It’s even harder for Sam to look past his little brother glasses.

“...Flying?” Sam puts it together. His voice is understanding, but super confused. “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Dean flails. He fists his hands as he talks, swaying back and forth to try and work up the nerve. He glances at you, the only other witness to his weakness, just once. “Why do you think I fuckin’ drive everywhere, Sam?”

Sam is genuinely stunned. Slapped-in-the-face stunned. But he takes it in stride, and, also glancing at you only once, he blurts out: “Alright. Uh, I’ll go.”

The anticipation of boarding the flight is making your skin prickle with anxiety, and you can’t help but inch back toward the ticket counter as they talk. But when Sam says this, without question or complaint, you’re instantly stepping up to his side and demanding, “Then I’m going with you.”

You brace yourself to shut down the argument you know is coming, but this Sam continues to be different from the guy you knew four years ago. This answer is just as easy for him, too. “Okay.”

Not, you’re staying here, or even, I won’t let you risk yourself like this. Just a plain and simple, okay. It bugs you. You don’t even have time to dwell on it, though, because Sam’s blatant courage tugs Dean over his fear.

“Man…” Dean utters, face twisted with nervousness. He gives in with a helpless scrunch of his shoulders, and taking that as permission, Sam twists around to buy your tickets not two seconds later.

You both watch him rush off, neither of you over the moon about this situation. Dean’s so anxious that his hands are clammy, and you can tell because he clutches at the sleeve of your jacket like a little kid. He knocks his forehead down on your shoulder with a groan, and your palm automatically loops around to give his back a soothing rub.

“This is fucking… awesome,” Dean gripes. “No guns. Can’t even bring a damn bottle of holy water. Is there some kind of psychic Xanax you can give me?”

Maybe some of your Gift drains into your voice when you promise, “We won’t have to worry about that. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Dean doesn’t make his Freaked Out face this time. He does, however, bump his forehead against your shoulder again, and sink into your touch with a rough sigh.

FLIGHT 424 - Dec. 4th.

You’d felt bad for Dean the whole time he’d struggled to get on the plane. Now, you kind of felt like choking him with your bare hands.

So many people crammed into one space was enough to flatten your Gift with the weight. Adding Dean to the mix, shoved shoulder-to-shoulder against you with his jitters ramped up to eleven, made you feel like picking your brain out with a fork. Your Gift ping-ponged between Dean and Sam, making you bounce between chattering your teeth with fear and thinking things like, wow, I just love the Dewey decimal system.

Maybe it was a good thing. You’d much rather be in one of their heads than yours.

All day, you’d done a pretty good job not obsessing over the things your mom had said over the phone. It was hard with so much time to marinate in the car, but the massive weight of the existence of demons only slammed on top of you once or twice. Boarding had managed to keep you occupied, but then the colossal body of the plane had shuddered and heaved its weight off the tarmac, leaving all chances for escape behind on the ground.

A part of you was resigned to it; it is a simple fact of your life that evil things are real. So what’s one more, right? But at the same time, you thought about the cross Sam wore under his shirt… you thought about being one of those things, being “made of lies,” like Mom had said. That, too, had been gnawing at you—what had she seen to learn all that? How did she know that a demon would “tear into your mind?” The Vague Psychic Thing is fun, until you’re on the receiving end.

“Can you sense who it’s possessing?” Sam’s smooth, calculating voice interrupted your thoughts.

…Oh, right. You’d gotten so swept up in your own head, no doubt influenced by Dean’s incessant foot-tapping, that you’d totally forgotten to scan the plane. Tilting away from Dean and his panic, you subconsciously shifted toward eerily calm, level-headed Sam. Just catching a wisp of the clean cologne he wears cools you down a little bit. Okay. No more freaking out—it’s game time.

You’d hoped that the white noise of the flight would settle your nerves, but the air tasted painfully sterile, dry, and cottony against the back of your throat. Everything felt like cold metal touching an open nerve. If the demon’s influence wasn’t making your powers touchy, then the woman across the aisle definitely was, oozing with homesickness as she watched Indianapolis shrink far below—or maybe it was the guy two rows back, replaying an argument again and again in his head—or maybe the other two hundred fucking people stuffing the plane with their boredom and their tiredness.

You push your knee into Sam’s. He pushes back.

After a tense beat, you whisper to him over the chatter of passengers, “Too many people. There’s no way I can narrow it down to one person—not unless they’re right in front of me.” Sam’s gaze turns expectantly to Dean, who’s still in full-on dissociation mode. He’d spent the whole boarding process humming tracks from St. Anger, and you knew he was really going through it, purely because he’d stopped and restarted Some Kind of Monster three different times now. Poor guy.

One of the things that made the three of you such a natural team was your ability to rotate leadership. In moments like these, with Dean way too wigged out to take charge, you’d usually step into his shoes without much trouble. But Sam has fielded your fainting spells and panic attacks all week, so he’s already got a pep-talk prepared for the two of you.

“...Okay.” Sam checks his watch. His voice still has that touch of classic Sam softness, probably because he knows how hard this is going to sound: “Stay focused. We got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, figure out who it’s possessing, and perform a full-on exorcism.” You’re about to make a comment about how blissfully easy he makes things seem, but Dean beats you to it. He snipes, “Yeah, on a crowded plane. That’s gonna be easy.”

You snap one of your bracelets against your wrist a few times, thinking. “Who would it want to possess?”

This gets Dean’s head in the game. Easily, he recites: “It’s usually somebody with some sort’a weakness, y’know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or emotional distress.”

As he explains this, you unlatch Dean’s claws from their death-grip on your arm and give the top of his hand a little soothing pat. Your gaze remains fixed on the pattern of the seat in front of you. “For a regular demon, maybe. This thing might not even need a chink. It wants maximum damage here—so maybe it’d go for the pilot?”

This is not a soothing thought. Checking his watch again, Sam suggests, “Or Amanda… Surviving a crash like that? I’d be pretty messed up if I was her. We should check both.”

You’re happy to spend the little time you have left wisely, so you’re quick to push out of your seat and get moving. Dean puts on a brave face and follows your lead. There are only two ends of the plane to check—this thing can’t hide forever. Just when you start to do an awkward side-shuffle to nudge Dean out into the aisle with your hip, the whole plane thrashes top to bottom, and there he goes, dropping like a rock back into his seat. His spike of panic is so genuine that you end up dropping with him.

“Come on!” Dean hisses through his teeth. “That can’t be normal!”

You and Sam immediately get to shushing and soothing him, and suddenly you understand how married couples feel when their kid starts crying on a flight. Shifty eyes in other seats pretend they’re not glaring at you. Summoning as much strength as you can to share with him, you drop a hand on Dean’s shoulder and order: “Breathe, dude. You’re okay.”

“I’m not fuckin’ four,” Dean whisper-shouts, sulking flat back into his seat.

“She’s right,” Sam whispers back. Should it be worrying you how much he’s been agreeing with you lately? Stern, he says, “Listen—if you’re panicked, you’re wide open to possession. So you need to calm yourself down. Right now.”

A weird part of you is grateful that Dean is having a rough go of it, because it’s giving you something to focus on. You’re usually pretty good with planes. But for a minute there, when the turbulence had hit, your mind had defaulted to oh shit, this is real, we’re all going to die. A slideshow of the last crash had blitzed through your thoughts. Thoughts that had nothing to do with the anxiety you were picking up from Dean.

You know you despise it when Dean uses his Parent Voice on you, so you try not to use it on him when you urge, “C’mon. I think Amanda’s in the back of the plane. I’ll check up front.”

Dean gives an unconvinced, “I’ll go talk to her,” then makes grabby hands at Sam’s pockets, “pass me one of the hand-sanitizers. Fuckin’ uh, pumpkin latte—don’t gimme that face, _____, not all of us can tell with just a look. What if it’s in her?”

“It’s a bit more than a look—” you begin to clarify, but Sam stops your back and forth with a shake of his head. He pulls out the little orange plastic container of your pumpkin cupcake holy water and passes it to Dean.

“We should try to conserve what we got,” he warns, passing you the only other weapon against the demon (marshmallow pumpkin latte). “Go more subtle—if she’s possessed, she’ll flinch at the name of god.”

Now that you’re running out of both time and options, the second Dean unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out into the aisle on coltish legs, you take the opening and bolt out of your cramped middle seat. Anything you can do to get closer to finding this thing will make you feel loads better.

You start down the aisle. As the chatter of the boys fades into the all-encompassing thrum of the plane behind you, you take slow unhurried steps past each row of seats, soaking up what you can get. A girl listens to music in her headphones. A businessman clicks away at his laptop. Each of them you comb over with your powers, and each pass feels like scooping your hand into a bowl of tacks and waiting to get stabbed.

They’ll rip into your mind… take you apart if they have to, Mom had said. You waited for that moment, steeling your nerves the closer you came to the cockpit. If the demon’s on this side of the plane, and it sensed you, would it immediately press into your mind? Would just being near you snap its presence to you like a magnet? You didn’t like the mental feeling that gave you; the stark secret-seeking white of your Gift clashing with the black choking smoke that’d been chasing you all week. When you spoke to a spirit through your Gift, it felt like you were touching fingertips through a curtain. Would it be like that? Would this demon press its claws through the veil and dig around for something to tear, to grab?

The other flight attendant on board pushes past you with her cart, leaving no barrier between you and the cockpit. Behind you, bobbing in a sea of blurry people, your Gift could distinctly make out Sam (practicing the exorcism) and Dean (talking to Amanda). You’re just a few paces from the front exit of the plane when a man emerges from the bathroom cabin, and—

He twists to meet eyes with you. Expecting you.

You’re flashed a clever, haunting smile, then—a set of glossy void-black eyes.

You wait for it. And in its own way, the presence of the demon does overpower you, bringing the heavy-as-the-sky, parasitic feeling from your visions into the real world. For a long ringing moment, you are blasted with dark leeching power hot enough to singe the entire front of your body—like a nuclear bomb had dropped down just a few steps from you. It is spidery and vicious and knowing and awful—

…but the conquering sensation never comes. Beth had said that it would root into your mind, that just feeling it with your Gift, as you are right now, would tear you to pieces. Yet all that really happens is you staring at it and it staring at you, before it shoulders its way through the cockpit door and disappears inside. The only thing you really experience is the shock of seeing it in somebody, puppeting around a person with dreams and thoughts and memories.

For a few moments, you suck down heaving breaths through your nose and stare at the closed door.

Something about it nagged at you. Besides the obvious—how different it felt compared to what your mother had described—you swear you felt something else, some ringing sense of strangeness that you just couldn’t put your finger on. Maybe it was the fact that you’d just made eye contact with a real creature of hell, an evil spirit, whatever. But you made eye contact with evil spirits all the time. This was… closer to home than that. Underneath the writhing mass of bloody, black ink that made up the demon, your Gift had recognized something unimaginably familiar.

Sensing the demon in person had reminded you of… of a sensory memory, almost. It smelled like… warm static. The old staticy TV in your house, the ancient one that sat square and unattractively on your Mom’s slanting sideboard in the living room. You remembered her crystal ashtray propped up on the top, the fizzy sound the TV made when you’d shut it off…

On the nights when it was just you and Sam home, and the house felt so big and empty that the silence throbbed in your ears, the two of you would set up a fort in front of that TV and watch old horror movies well past your bedtime. The silly effects and the dated acting were easy to tease together. You’d much rather watch movies on the newer screen in your Mom’s room, but for whatever reason, Sam insisted on the clunker in your living room.

Y’wanna know somethin’ cool? He’d asked you once, running a finger through the film of static bubbling on the surface of the glass. A little bit of the static in TVs is actually radiation leftover from the Big Bang. How weird is that? Something so old and powerful, picked up by this random piece of junk.

Sam always crashed first, leaving you alone with the white static the TV defaulted to when the movie ended. You could vividly remember how your shoulders bumped against the hard floor through the thin sleeping bag the two of you had shared—how Sam’s warmth had seeped into your shirt where he was curled up behind you, his soft sleepy breaths tickling your hair.

When you’d pulled his arm around your waist to snuggle, a spark of static had shocked you through his touch. When you’d closed your eyes and tried to go to sleep, you swore that the ancient, cosmic hum of the static in the TV ebbed and flowed at the same exact time as Sam’s breath.

In. Bzzzsh. Out. Bzzzsh. Crackling as he breathed.

It wasn’t the demon you were scared of anymore. The ancient, ever-present sting of static you’d felt deep down inside it… that scared you a million, a billion times more, because—

You felt that static every time you felt Sam.

It’s like trying to describe the smell of your childhood home.

Logically, you know your house must smell like something. But when you’re in one place long enough your brain filters it out as background noise, and it becomes something you can only notice after a long time away.

You’d known Sam since you were in diapers. Back then, the meager threads of your Gift were already taking him in and absorbing him into your memory. Eventually, you felt him so often that all the pain and optimism in his core, all the stuff that made Sam himself, had smoothed out into warm, familiar background noise to your Gift.

Then he’d left for Stanford. Four years passed, and the only exposure your Gift had to him was the flimsy thread stretched two thousand miles down to California. Because it’d been so long since you’d sensed him in person, hugging him outside his apartment had been like stepping into your home after a long time away—for a brief moment, the filter over your psychic perceptions of him had lifted. You’d sensed for the first time what had always been there, buried deep. The Static.

At the time, you’d gotten so swept up in Sam, Dean, and the adventure of finding their Dad, that it was easy to get sidetracked. Things came up. You got used to Sam again, and his Static faded to background noise.

Until you’d felt that demon with your Gift.

A demon. A creation of Lucifer. You’d always remember what Sam felt like—you’d never forget the smell of home—but in one of them?

Your mind whirls with so many questions that it flat-out pops, failing you. Pulled along on a cloud of white noise, you somehow manage to turn away from the cockpit and start back down the aisle. The demon is possessing the pilot. You have forty minutes, less than, to exorcize it and save the two hundred people on this flight. These are all truths floating around in your head, but no matter how much you try to circle back to one, the static of the demon overcomes you again.

Static. You think of Sam, the crackle of his soft raspy voice through the phone. Your heart is pounding in your ears, thudding away in your chest like a piston. The static had burned in the demon, burned like busted speakers and smoking plane wreckage. Little pins all over your skin pressing in. The space you have until you make it to Sam’s seat seems to yawn, your footfalls sluggish and shivery. Why do they feel the same? Why does he feel the same? The static of the demon worms under your fizzing skin, bubbling, boiling—

You stop in front of Sam’s row, and he’s already looking at you when you get close. He asks you a question. You stare at him, the whole world filled with that awful roaring buzzing, the air tight and dessert dry in the back of your throat. Even though he’s right in front of you, you feel like you barely see him—just the vague burning outline of him in your powers.

Sam reaches out to grab your wrist, tugging it away from the long marks you’re viciously scratching into the flesh of your arm. The touch of his hand causes a literal static shock to jolt from his fingers to yours. You yelp in surprise, but it’s—

It’s different. There’s a similarity, definitely, between what you sensed in the demon and what’s always been in Sam… but his Static is hot chocolate warm and fuzzy and so good. Melt-in-your-mouth good. Your surroundings filter back in, and there are his soft, worried eyes looking up at you under his brow, and his big hand soothing over the irritated skin you’ve scratched raw. Sam. The same Sam he’s always been.

…Whatever it is, whatever weird connection you’ve just made, you’re sure there’s a lot more to it than Sam having something in common with a demon. Right?

Sam takes one look at you, your insane reaction, and your mysterious reappearance, then easily puts two and two together: “One of the pilots?”

“Co-pilot,” you tell him, and one of your absent-minded hands drifts up to scratch at your arm again.

And again, Sam fishes his fingers around your wrist and pulls it away. Now that you’ve noticed it, you can’t un-notice it. His touch makes your fingertips and the ends of your ears tingle, and not completely in the boy-crush way. In the psychic way.

He asks, “You gonna be okay? We got twenty-two minutes.”

That jolts you back to life. Twenty-two minutes until this plane is smoking ashes in a Pennsylvania cornfield. Though the last ten minutes have easily overcomplicated all twenty-four years of your life, you won’t have a life period if you don’t see this job through. When Dean returns from investigating a very un-possessed Amanda, he feels the exact same way.

Your resolve hardens, and you manage to give Sam an absent-minded smile. “I’ll be fine.”

There’s no time for arguing. Dean and Sam unanimously agree that the only possible place to exorcize the demon would be in the back, where Amanda is, since you can’t exactly jump the guy in the middle of economy. You don’t exactly like the idea of roping her into this, but Amanda’s the only one who could potentially lure that—thing to the rear of the plane. It is the world’s shittiest ambush. But by the time the three of you decide what to do, you’ve burned ten whole minutes on anxious chatter. A shitty ambush is the only plan you’ve got.

Dean starts down the aisle for the back of the plane. You stare at nothing for a beat, and only remember to get out of your seat when Sam nudges your elbow. He presses his lips together like he wants to ask you the million-dollar question (“Are you sure you’re okay?”), but there is literally no time. In a haze, you shuffle out of your seat after Dean and make a feeble attempt to get your head into gear. Sam does not make it easy. One of his broad hands brushes against the small of your back as you both squeeze out of the row, and you feel like you’ve just gone down one of those static-charged plastic playground slides.

Your Gift is exaggerating it. It has to be, right? Making big connections out of little things, picking at a fresh bruise. For weeks, you’ve been crammed into a little car with Sam, into teeny motel beds with him with no room between you. Why hadn’t you felt it? Why now? Not when you were four, napping in the same bed after playtime—not when you were twelve, and Sam was the first person outside your family that your Gift had connected with. Had it always been there, living inside him? Had you missed it?

You reach the back of the plane. Amanda is there, a pale, blonde flight attendant straight out of a commercial. You are dully aware that you have twelve minutes left before the demon makes its move, always on the forty-minute mark (...and you don’t like the line suddenly drawn between Sam and such an old, biblically evil thing).

The boys talk. A familiar conversation occurs over your head, which might be why it’s easy for you to tune out. Your mind returns again to thoughts of Sam, so intense and loud in your head that it all fizzles out to nothing, and you’re left standing there with the air pressure making your ears ring. Sam. The demon. It’s stupid and intangible and you’d have no fucking clue how to explain it out loud, but your Gift is made to find the truth. Something inside that demon exists in Sam, too. Something.

You try to reassure yourself that maybe, just this once, your Gift is wrong. Maybe this is the demon getting into your mind—learning your deepest fears and bringing them to life.

Sure enough, Dean’s charm and Sam’s earnest face must win Amanda over, because she flits out of the back room like a frightened bird. The boys peer through the curtain to watch her go, the two of them as still and sharp-eared as twin watchdogs. You’re slapped back to life by the sudden tension in the room, and quickly scuttle up behind them. Right. Amanda’s getting the co-pilot. These next ten minutes will determine the rest of your life.

In the same beat, you and Dean ready your holy water, and Sam gets the written exorcism from their dad’s journal out in front of him. There’s no need for the three of you to say a word. An understanding passes between each of you, hammered in from years of hunting as a team. Sam slides up next to you and Dean gives you a firm nod, squashing your last wisps of fear. You’re here to do a damn job.

A man’s voice floats toward the closed curtain to the back room, followed not-so-closely by Amanda’s. You’re glad she’s not the first one into the room—because Dean instantly slams a fist into their face.

The co-pilot—or really, the thing inside him—goes sprawling. You’ve got a strip of duct tape bridled over his mouth before he even fully collides with you, and for the blissful moment you have him pinned, Dean gets another fierce hit in.

While he’s still stunned, you whip the co-pilot to the grated metal floor. Dean clambers on top of him and keeps him there with a firm fist twisted in his rumpled button-up.

Amanda panics, “W-what are you doing? Y-you said you we-were gonna talk to him—!”

“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean grits.

Then, you’re hosing him down with holy water, splashing it brutally in the man’s pain-twisted face. Your gut clenches with empathy. Did the demon leave his body already? You’re terrified for a moment that you got the wrong guy… until you smell the smoke. It’s not just sulfur, but full-on dead body bloat, steaming up from the big black boils that spring up where the holy water hits skin. You get a mouth and noseful vile enough to make you gag. This thing fighting you? This is definitely not a man.

Amanda watches the demon’s skin sizzle, the usual terror and confusion on her face. “O-oh my god, what’s wrong with him?”

You pour all the psychic clarity and calmness into your voice when you whip around and tell her: “It’s going to be okay. Be calm, go outside the curtain, and don’t let anybody in. Can you do that, Amanda?”

You don’t stop to listen to her answer. Sam’s already tearing through the opening to the exorcism at ninety miles an hour, his pronunciation punchy and fatally clear. That had been one of the less exciting parts of the five-hour drive here; when Sam had run through it over and over, re-training himself. One misspoken word could get everyone on this plane killed.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…”

The demon thrashes viciously in your grip, twisting and contorting under Dean in ways the human body can’t bend. Bile rises in your throat as you hear a snap, then two, as the demon does everything it can to buck Dean off. By the time you go to stun it with another splash of holy water, it’s more of a dribble. That’s your first mistake.

Two people are not nearly enough to keep this thing down. It gets a hand loose that instantly sends Dean flying, and before you even see where he lands, it cranks your head all the way to the left in one vicious slap.

Your whole face is blasted with red, stinging pain. You go down hard, smashed sideways into the cramped wall.

The pain stuns you out of the headspace you built to distract yourself, and all at once the presence of the demon is thrust upon you. The black, molten psychic power of it crackles through your body, filling your nose and mouth with the same terror hanging in your visions all week. Until you realize— It fucking backhanded you.

Trying to see past the dots swimming in your vision, you mindlessly shove off the wall, snarling with rage. No fucking way.

And then it speaks (to Sam?), and in the fizzing noise of pressure in your ears you hear it promise, “I know what happened to your girlfriend!” The constant stream of Sam’s exorcism stops cold.

When the demon speaks again, its voice, a spectral twist of the co-pilot’s and something older, drooled with pleasure. “She died screaming,” it rasped, “Even now, she's burning.”

A lot happens in the next precious seconds. First, the little circular light flushed flat to the back cabin’s ceiling explodes. Just—bursts, in shock, spraying sparks and glass all over the little room. You’re stunned enough as it is getting hit in the face, so one more thing to fuck up your vision doesn’t help. But you heard what the demon said to Sam. Through the suffocating evil flooding your mind, you feel the sharp spike of hurt and rage and grief in your best friend—and that’s the precise moment when you decide that you’ve had e-fucking-nough.

These last few days have not been winners. And though you live a pretty shitty life with an impressive amount of shitty days, even before you got to Pennsylvania, your streak of bad luck had only just gotten started. This demon has screwed with your Gift on an unimaginable level. Your last few nights have been plagued with nightmares straight from hell, and your days haven’t been much better, riddled with useless visions that get more and more disconnected every time you faint. It made it even more obvious than usual that you’re deadweight for Sam and Dean. They had to handle your boiling water burns and your freakouts, not to mention your mood swings and your unhelpful visions.

The demon hurt Dean, which is enough to get your teeth grinding. And Sam—it had cut him much deeper.

You wanted to tear it apart. You wanted to reach into it the same way it had reached into you, dig in with your nails, and rip something out. Your mom’s words buzz in your head: contact, truth, lies, rip, apart. Rationally, you know you should listen to her warning. If just looking into its eyes has forever changed your view of the man you’ve loved since you were little, then looking deeper could kill you—scramble your mind. You know that. But beside the rage and exhaustion fizzing under your skin is this desperate need to know.

Demons are made of lies. What if it was lying about Sam? What if it had screwed with your Gift in some new way, tweaking the image of him in your mind? It had to be lying. The Static in him, as warm and as good as you swore it was—it came from something evil. Sam. The man you love, the boy you’d fallen in love with, his soft sleepy breaths as he lays on the floor beside your bed, his freckly arms swimming in his too-big sleeves. How could any part of him be evil? He couldn’t be. N-not your Sam. How could he ever have something like that inside him?

You need to be sure. Consequences be damned.

As the demon rears up to keep snarling in Sam’s face, you slap a hand over its forehead—reach in—and start ripping.

She died screaming.

Sam can’t pull a full breath in. The words burn through his body like a syringe of poison, spreading from limb to limb. The demon snarls up at him, its foamy spit hitting Sam’s face and its teeth snapping around Jess’s name—until.

_____’s hand seals over the demon’s face. The demon’s jaw snaps shut. There is a terrible hanging moment where Sam’s brain struggles to connect the touch to what she’s doing; she never, ever psychically connected with the full face of her palm tattoo. Even with her mom Sam knew she put up a barrier, reading Beth with the smooth back of her knuckles instead.

Shit. Another fresh shot of horror lances through him. What the hell is she doing to it?

The effect is instant. Whatever button _____ had just hit, it activates every horror-movie, Exorcist-level instinct in the demon’s body. Surprised yelps echo down the back of the plane as the lights violently flicker. In electrified, strobing flashes, Sam sees it. The co-pilot’s body is diagonal on the floor one moment, and then it’s arching its back three feet in the air, lurching up into ______’s palm like she’d hit it with a defibrillator. The demon floats up and stays up.

…Until Dean brings it smashing back to the floor again, throwing his weight on top of the co-pilot. He barks, “Sam!” Right. Whatever she’s doing to it, it’s the only working distraction they’ve got. Slapped back to focus, Sam stutters out where he left off: “...O-omnis congregatio et secta diabolica—” It’s a blessing that he makes it through the next lines of the exorcism. Sam pours all of his willpower into keeping his eyes on the stained notebook page it’s written on, no matter how many times his gut begs him to check on her. All he can do is have faith. This is what she does—when Dean’s not strong enough and Sam’s too weak, she finds a damn way, come hell or high water. Sam has always had endless faith in that. So when the whole plane gives that terrible shudder that he was expecting, and then tips, and tips, and tips into a full pitch forward, Sam grips that faith with both hands. The demon’s power ripples through the rest of the plane. Everything descends into chaos. Past the curtain, the lights go out in one silent burst, followed by the explosive, concussive screams of the passengers as the oxygen masks drop. Movies are unfortunately good at capturing this precise moment, but nothing could ever replicate the way Sam’s belly swoops as all five hundred tons of the plane heads straight for the ground. Sam and Dean both go flying, crashing sideways into the walls of the back cabin. The turbulence rips the journal from his hands, and of course, with their fucking luck, it goes skidding through the curtain and down the aisle to ricochet under the seats. “Grab it!” Dean screams.

Sam can’t hear him. He staggers into the open doorway of the back cabin, clutching the frame for dear life. A terrifying, unnatural howl whistles through the cabin, even louder than the wails of the passengers. Its wind flutters his hair around his face and sends luggage toppling out of the overhead bins. For a moment, Sam wonders if the plane’s been hit or the demon has done something—but no. It’s her. He flattens himself to the floor—or rather, gravity flattens him—crawling on his belly towards the shadow of the journal under the seats. The passengers sob and shriek. The air is singed with smoky fear, and riding that same fear, Sam surges ahead, lunging for the book where it’s lodged between tossed luggage. He has to twist to get his hands on it, and it’s then that he feels it.

Down the aisle behind him, the wind drags luggage and loose papers into the void-like darkness of the back cabin—where the great, cleansing, sweeping power of her is fighting the demon. Sam believes in what he’s seen; Sam believes in angels.

She’ll buy him enough time. He knows she will.

Sam’s hands don’t shake as he pries the journal open to the right page.

“Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus,” he shouts, and the words ring as clear and clean as a bell. The plane tries to toss him again, but Sam grits his teeth and persists, “audi nos!”

He waits. Sam sees it more than he hears it. Deep in the blackhole darkness of the plane’s cabin, something red and fiery flashes to life… flickers… and dies.

Maybe he’s imagining it, but he swears he feels the demon fizzle out. The heaviness in the air melts away. The lights, which Sam realizes had been snapping on and off, turn on for good. The hissing of the turbines spins to its normal hum. The plane swooshes back up with a slow coasting motion, then sets itself back on its peaceful forward track.

Gasps and sobs of relief chorus all around Sam, and sprawled in the middle of the aisle, he finds himself doing the same. Overhead, the pilot’s voice crackles reassurances over the intercom. As big wuffs of air cycle in and out of Sam, he waits for the moment for his heart to stop thumping, for the big “we won” moment to wash over him—but it never really does. It sits with him. For a long terrible moment, he is on the bed in his apartment in Palo Alto, Jessica’s blood boiling holes in his neck.

Even now, she’s still burning.

INDIANAPOLIS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - Dec. 5th, early morning.

Somehow, amid all the noise of swarming paramedics, feds, airline authorities, and stunned 424 passengers, Sam manages to remain lost in his own head. He clenches his jaw til’ his ears pop. How had it known about Jess?

The terminal is quickly packed. He’s not in airports often enough to know whether they should be packed at one in the morning, but he’s gonna guess not. It is all background noise for him. Passengers whirl past, getting cleared by cops to go home, and Dean subtly nudges the three of them into the leaving crowd. Sam has a vague notion that he’s putting one foot in front of the other, but everything feels distant and hazy. His neck blazes with that terrible tingling feeling, and he digs into it with his nails until Dean stops him.

“Sam,” Dean orders, dipping his head towards the direction of the parking lot. Apparently Sam isn’t cooperating well. “Let’s get the hell outta’ here.” For a brief moment, the awful burning feeling covering him in a fog parts long enough for him to think, and Sam realizes that he doesn’t know where _____ is. Panic lances through his chest so fast that he sobers all at once, and he opens his mouth to panic more—until he sees her, scrunched up behind Dean.

Well, clutching Dean. Left shameless by whatever she saw in that demon’s head, she’s got Dean’s hand and wrist in a deathgrip, trailing him so close that her shoes catch the heels of his boots. She does not look good. Her eyes are big and wide and she looks straight through everyone and everything, still tethered to the other dimension her powers live in. She’s got her elbows pressed into her ribs and her body bunched up so tight that Sam can almost feel her psychic overstimulation from where he’s standing.

“S’okay, sweetheart, ” Dean hushes, the first in a long, quiet string of reassurances.

Sam stares at her. Even if she’s in her own world, she must be able to feel it, ‘cause she physically leans out of his way. That should hurt him—should make him burn with sympathy—but instead, all he can think is, she would know. She would know if the demon was lying. Sam’s connected with her like that—there’s absolutely nothing to hide, even if you wanted to, so there’s no way she couldn’t see if the demon had been telling the truth.

The line of people seeping through security to get out of the airport slows to a stop, making way for the pack of paramedics hauling 424’s copilot away on a stretcher. The black boils from the holy water have left his body entirely.

He’ll ask her once. He has to try. Sam lets the two of them in front of him, Dean, then _____, almost pressing her face into Dean’s back. When they’re stopped in line, Sam lifts a hand to touch her—but stops himself, not wanting her to feel any worse. “_____,” Sam swallows, trying to keep his voice even. “What did you see? H-How did it know about Jessica?”

Before she even has the opportunity to answer, (if she can even hear him), Dean swings around to shoot Sam a pained look. “Dude, look at her. Now is not the fuckin’ time. Let her get a full breath in before you start with the interrogations, okay?”

Sam recoils. The gnashing, rebellious fire he usually saves for Dad pours out here, instead, and before Sam knows it he’s snarling back, “I can’t ask one question about my dead girlfriend?”

It lasts only for an instant, but Sam gets to watch in real time the way that hit lands. He’s aware that it’s deeply fucked up of him to enjoy throwing Jess in Dean’s face, but it is his backward, comforting reminder that she was a real person; not a four-year-long fever dream he invented to escape. No one says her name but him anymore. At least, when he talks about her, someone else is forced to feel something too.

Dean sets his jaw. He makes the mistake of trying to turn towards Sam, which _____ thinks is an attempt to shake her off—and she lets out this awful, hoarse sob sound that stops them both cold.

Sam feels like a rail spike has been driven through his chest. Dean gives him a look, then mercifully drops it.

Immediately, Dean’s wheeling her back in and soothing her. The angle at which she’s clinging to him is awkward for all three of them, so he endures her trembling and hitching little sobs as he peels off her hands and re-arranges them. Dean loops an arm around her back so he can stroke her shuddering shoulders, uttering, “S’okay, kiddo, s’ all over… ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you…”

And of course, because Sam can never exist in peace, he watches the way ______ drops all her weight onto Dean and feels his chest squeeze. Suddenly, he’s very aware of what four years have changed between her and his brother.

The rush back to the car is silent, but for _____’s little sniffling breathes. After making it out of the blistering lights of the chattering airport and out into the peaceful snowy parking lot, things calm down.

Four separate times Sam thinks about reaching out to comfort her. The Gift always leaves her freezing cold, and early December in Indiana on top of that has her making audible little shivering sounds as they walk. Sam’s boiling under his coat. He unzips it, then zips it up again, unsure if she’d even want it. Dean gets her in the car and puts a warm blanket around her before Sam can get over his indecision.

They just saved two hundred people. In hindsight, that’s a massive win. Maybe if the demon hadn’t said what it’d said, and maybe if it hadn’t reduced her to this, Sam could celebrate. Seeing her so messed up always throws him. Less than an hour ago, she was the powerful psychic that used to have Dad clutching his telepathy-blocking charm under his shirt.

Sam scrubs his hand down his face, staring blankly at the trembling lump of blanket lying across the backseat. Now, she’s… whatever she saw in that demon.

Dean tucks her feet up onto the seat, then nudges the door closed with his hip. Sam stares past him, through him, at her silhouette in the Impala’s dark glass, because that’s somehow easier than looking at Dean.

The smattering of snow growing on the asphalt makes the whole world sound muffled. Sam feels like he’s talking to empty air when he croaks, “It knew about Jessica.”

“Sam,” Dean calls, softer this time. Asking for Sam to look at him. When he manages to heave his head up, Dean’s face is firm and reassuring. “These things—they read minds. They lie, just like Beth said. That’s all it was. Don’t let that thing get into your head, okay?”

Sam forces himself to nod. They both spare the shaking shape in the backseat one more look, then Dean’s rounding the car for the driver’s seat, and Sam’s sliding in next to him without another word.

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 5th, night.

Green. It had to be the ugliest color a motel room could be, Sam thought as he stared at the empty room. The walls were this sad limey green color that managed to look awful even in the dark, some parts made even limey-er by the huge neon green vacancy sign right outside their window. Their room was parked right next to it, so there was no escaping the sign even with the curtains pulled shut.

You and Dean, who were positioned right under the ugly green light, had somehow managed to fall asleep anyway. The only sound in the whole world was your soft breathing across the room and the crackle of the ancient TV.

Right now, it was playing a rerun of some televangelist in a big shiny white suit. He paced the screen on mute as Sam watched, curled on his side, laying diagonal to face the screen. Nightmares were so common for him now that the hardest part of the battle was getting to sleep in the first place. His strategy was to get so bored and so tired that his body would simply have nothing else to do but crash. Bored was the key word—Sam had tried reading, sudoku, and counting cars as they whisked by, but all of that occupied his mind too much to work. Tonight was another night where his mind was just too full to sleep.

He hoped Dean was right. He prayed that the demon had just been lying, lips pressed to the cross he kept under his shirt. Most days, Sam dropped into bed and sent off a brief prayer before the fight for sleep began. Tonight, though—tonight was one of those nights where he clasped his cross in both hands and poured his heart out. Sam prayed for his brother, his Dad, and for you, like usual, pleading for protection and strength. Sam prayed for Jessica, too.

(But never for her forgiveness—he knew he didn’t deserve that).

When Sam had first started getting comfortable with prayer, he’d always worried that he was being greedy or selfish by asking for so much. Health, food, lunch money, for Dad and Dean to get home okay. Now, it’s a natural comfort to him. To open yourself up to something higher than you, to give up your pride and ask for help—that is a mark of holiness. Goodness. Sam closes out his prayers and feels clean.

Across the room, Sam hears the covers in the opposite bed shift. He squints sleepy eyes at your silhouette, and even sluggish and drained, the shifting colors from the TV and the vacancy sign illuminate you like something not entirely from this world.

You pad over to his bedside. A soft, ice-cold hand shakes his arm. When you get up close and realize Sam’s awake, you scuttle back in surprise. “Uh.”

Sam shoves his face into his pillow. With his mind still on Jess, it’s hard for him to look at you right now. “What is it?”

It’s funny. From the moment you got off flight 424, you’d been glued to Dean’s side. Sam had kept his teeth pressed together through the entire thing, watching from a distance as you reached for Dean, spoke to Dean, took the food Dean gave you. If Sam didn’t know any better, he’d figure you were avoiding him. Now you’ve decided you want something from him?

The second you touch his arm, every wisp of jealousy in Sam dries up. Not at all in the mood to be touched, he squirms out from under your hand and hoarsely repeats, “What?” You speak to him for the first time in hours. You sound rough and broken, and the edge of that awful sob from earlier today threatens to tip into your voice. “Can I…?”

Sam keeps his face planted in the pillow. At first he’s unsure what you’re even asking for—until you drop a hand on the mattress and he feels your weight tilt closer, wanting to… to lay with him. Like when you were little. When you share beds on the road, there’s often space left between you. That’s not what you’re asking for. If that’s what you wanted right now, you’d be in Dean’s bed.

The soft, choked little voice he can’t resist begs, “I just need to feel you.”

The last sliver of guilt and self-loathing that Sam has been holding onto instantly slips out of his grasp, hearing that. For the millionth time since this morning, he’s reminded of how awful he was to you. You’d been brought to the brink with your powers in a way they hadn’t seen in years, and Sam chose that precise moment to freak out. He wished he’d been better to you. Maybe he can’t pray for Jess’s forgiveness, but he can work to earn yours now.

Sam shuffles back on the mattress and opens the covers for you. “C’mere.”

As quiet as a mouse, you duck under his arm and slip under the covers. Sam immediately realizes that he should’ve fucking braced himself or something, because holy shit, you are so close. He accidentally gave you very little room in the already small bed. To keep from tumbling off the mattress and onto the questionable carpet, you reasonably and logically slot right up against him, your back against his chest and your heads on the same pillow. Holy shit, he did not think this through. Sam has very few gentlemanly places to lay his arm. And even if he found one, your icy cold hand picks up his warm one and—right, okay, you take it and wrap it right around your middle. That’s fine too. Cool. Awesome.

Okay. Forgetting every way he could sabotage this for himself for just a moment, Sam realizes that he missed this. God, he missed it so much. You wiggle back into his body and Sam gives you a big, indulgent squeeze around the tummy, earning this watery little sigh that makes his already racing heart zing out into orbit. Friendly snuggling became a lot less friendly when you were pushing seventeen instead of nine, so Sam hasn’t allowed himself to properly, um… cuddle you… in ages.

That isn’t even the best part. That little squeeze makes him realize just how pleasantly cold you are, a wonderful ice cube in blazing hot soup. Sam’s practically cooking under the covers—and that must be perfect for you and your chilly hands, because you make the same pitiful happy noise that Sam does as you get comfortable against each other.

Maybe if this were any other moment, after any other day, that would be something you might laugh about together. Instead, Sam’s prayers are filled with you and your incredible burden. He hesitates to go all in and hold you like he wants to… until your breath makes that tight, hitching sound again, and Sam’s sure you’re holding back tears. Screw it, Sam thinks. He’ll take care of you this time. Sam presses his face into your hair and entwines your hands on your belly, unsure of what to say and yet wanting to say so much. Dean can’t hold you like this—this is something you only want from Sam.

You both go still. Sam feels you hold your breath. His legs are itching to shift under the covers and your hand awkwardly holds his, the two of you afraid to disturb the magic.

Your thumb slowly caresses along the flat side of his hand. His heart leaps into his throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to relax. You need this. Finally, it’s his turn to comfort you.

Sam swallows hard. There’s no way you can’t feel his heart thudding away, inches from popping clean out of his chest. Neither of you are stupid. If Dean were to wake up, you know exactly what this would look like to him—to the cleaning lady, to the strangers out on the street. But right now, in this frozen moment, there’s no one awake in the world but the two of you and the TV. It is so, so wrong. But when you touch him, Sam feels clean.

Bit by bit, you adjust to one another. Your breath syncs up. The whole time, your eyes never move from the TV, but if Sam focusses he swears something washes over him—that same great, sweeping, cleansing power from the plane, as light as moth wings on his skin. He has to bite back his smile. If you did that to anyone else, they’d find you creepy as hell.

After what feels like forever, you plainly croak, “It was lying about her. It was made of lies.”

That hits Sam like a slap to the face. That’s… yeah. That sounds right. He absorbs the impact as best he can, because although his faith was thin, Sam trusted Dean’s word and he trusts yours, too. There’s—so much that he feels about that, but he doesn’t want any more of his grief to overwhelm your Gift. Sam’s not naive. No matter how good of a person you are, no matter how considerate and understanding and empathetic you can be, Sam knows that talking about Jessica brings you some level of pain. It hurts him, too. And he has zero clue where that conversation would even begin, so he stores his shame and his loss and gives a shaky nod.

Instead, Sam asks, “...What did you see? When you looked into its head?”

Right. Cause’ that was such a better question to ask her, Sam.

You go silent. It’s a weighty, knowing silence, one that chokes the whole room. Sam readies himself for whatever you’re about to share with him. Admittedly, he’s curious. When the Gift was something new in your life, Sam used to pile on question after question about what the world felt like to you. ‘What does it feel like when Dean’s happy?’ A car motor turning on. ‘What does my happiness feel like?’ Dimples and a mystery being solved. ‘You’re joking.’ Not even a little. It fascinated Sam—how does a demon feel in comparison to a regular spirit?

“...It was just an evil spirit, Sammy,” you dismiss. “That’s all.”

Sam highly doubts that’s true. If it was just a spirit, then why did it screw with you so deeply? What had you seen in its head that had scared you? You, of all people, who was built for this? He knows there’s something more here, but after this week and all the ways you’ve fought to avoid being a burden, the fact that you’d crawl to Sam for comfort is a sign of surrender. You’ve given up. Clearly, you don’t want to talk about it. Sam isn’t going to push you. God knows he’s done that enough.

When Sam doesn’t push you, you shudder out a wet sigh and pick up his hand. At this point, Sam expects you in this state to do something weird—and sure enough, you do. You pick up Sam’s hand and you just stare at it. Just stare. Your thumb presses into the meat of his palm, almost like you’re looking for something. Feeling him. Sam’s heart gives another pathetic, noticeable throb. Feeling him and being close to him is, after everything, still a source of comfort for you. His cheeks burn.

Just to fill the silence, Sam whispers, “I’ve lost a lot of my calluses.”

Per usual, his little creep says nothing. You’re still feeling him. Your other hand comes up to investigate too, adding even more soft gentle touching to Sam’s already overloaded system. Your thumbs press into the center of his palm (reading it, maybe?), then over each bump, confirming for yourself that Sam’s real.

Maybe he’d be a bit more resilient if you were doing this to him in a crowded diner or a rowdy college party. Instead, Sam can feel the rise and fall of your breath through your thin shirt, and it’s the only sound in the dead world besides the buzzing static on the TV.

Your gaze turns to the TV. The fingers caressing his hand stop cold.

Sam says your name. He can feel your heart thud thud thudding deep in your chest, like rabbit’s feet hitting snow.

Again, absorbed completely in your own task, you don’t answer him. You roll over very suddenly under the covers. Sam hopes for a minute that being face to face with you will give him some answers, but the flash of your face he sees only serves to scare the shit out of him. You give him no time to process before you’re full-body hugging him, shoving a hand between his side and the mattress and fisting one in his shirt to bodily haul him against you. Sam sputters out a sharp noise and awkwardly slopes his hands down your back. The sudden intimacy gives him a whole world of shameful butterflies and freaks him out enough, but…

You looked terrified. The same bone-deep horror you had on your face after you saw the demon in person—when you trudged up to Sam with those haunting Proctor eyes, staring straight through him and right at his future. What had you seen in that demon?

Sam tries to speak, but you talk over him, just as haunted as you’d been on that plane.

“I love you. So much, Sam. You know that?”

It’s not a sweet, reminiscent kind of question. It is a genuine, unironic, please-tell-me-the-truth, You know that?

Sam’s brain stalls. “...Yeah. O-Of course.”

In case that wasn’t worrying enough, your hands needily grasp at his back, refusing to let Sam go as you duck your face into his shoulder. Sam can feel your entire body trembling from head to toe, can feel your hot breath on his neck choking back tears. “You’re a good person,” you tell him, insisting. “The best to me.”

“That’s—”

“I can feel it, okay?” You snap. One of your hands slips up his chest to smooth over Sam’s heart, and you squeeze him against you, promising, “Here. Right here.”

…Okay. Consider him officially freaked out. Sam manages an unconvinced, “...Thank you.”

You’re so wound up that you’re gritting your teeth, digging your nails into his shirt and clawing him as close as possible. This has to be an effect of what you saw. Which is strange, because that… whatever that was, did not feel like psychic possession or a psychic panic attack or any kind of psychic anything. It felt like you, trying to convince Sam that he’s a good person. It strikes a cold, dark chord somewhere deep within him that he doesn’t like. You’re just… you’re just reacting to what the demon showed you. You’re overwhelmed from stretching your Gift so thin. T-that’s. Yeah. Regardless, you’re scared. You need him. That, at least, is something he can work with.

“Shh,” Sam coos. He rubs a warm hand from the base of your scalp all the way down your back, then up, and back again, repeating the soothing motion until his arm goes numb. “You’re tired. Let’s go to sleep.”

You mumble something non-committal under your breath.

Sam hushes you, blindly reaching for comforting things to say. “S’ okay. You’re okay, baby. You can fall asleep on me.”

Maybe the demon showed you visions of Sam getting hurt. Something. That would explain this, maybe. He fixates on it, purely because it’s a problem in front of him that is much easier to think about than how scared he is for you, and worse, how much he loves this. Being your person. It’s a stupid, selfish thought to have in a moment like this, but—Sam wishes he could take care of you like this all the time.

As your frantic breathing smooths out into a clear, easy in-and-out, Sam wonders, wherever Jess is, what she would think if she saw this.

He closes his eyes and tries to steady his own breathing, the TV still crackling away on the dresser.

In. Bzzzsh. Out. Bzzzsh.

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydennyy @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1 @pplanetcaravan

#uncouthspn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester x reader #pythia #sam winchester imagine #supernatural rewrite

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