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zepskies · 5 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 16

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: “Run to You” by the Pentatonix

Word Count: 6,200 Tags/Warnings: Physical altercation, perilous situations, fire hazards, injuries, angst, Nick and Azazel being evil psychos.

Part 16: “Break Down the Gates”

The holiday couldn’t last forever. Eventually, you had to go back to work.

Dean didn’t like it, and neither did you. Hell, even Sam had tried to find an opening in the district attorney’s office for you. Unfortunately, all of the positions you were remotely qualified for were filled.

And as your bills had to get paid, it meant you had to take Betsy all the way up to the 22nd floor of the Savage & Co. building on a Monday morning.

Dean was already calling you.

You couldn’t answer until you got off the elevator and away from its shitty reception, but you let out a sigh before you called him back.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hey, sweetheart. How you doin’?” Dean asked.

“I’m good. I just got to my office,” you replied. I was also fine 20 minutes ago on the road.

You had to be patient though. You knew he was worried about you, now for more than one good reason.

“Good. Got your taser all charged up?”

“Yep, it’s in my purse,” you said. You closed the door to your office and locked it. “Which is going in my desk. You’re at the station?”

“Yeah, having my coffee right now.”

“Okay, tell the guys I said hi.”

“Will do,” said Dean. “You need anything, just call me. If you can’t get ahold of me, call Cas, or Sam, or even my dad.”

“I promise I will,” you replied. “I have to get to work here, but I hope you have a good day. And be safe.”

“That I will,” he promised in turn. “You too, baby.”

You smiled.

Once you hung up with Dean and got settled at your desk, you started by powering through your work emails. All too soon, however, there was a knock at your door. You fought against the tremor of unease that ran up your spine.

“Who is it?” you asked.

“It’s Marv,” replied your coworker, through the door. “Since when do you lock yourself in your office?”

You let out a breath and smiled. You got up and went to let him in. “I’ve found that people are less likely to interrupt me when they can’t get in.”

When the door opened, Marv gave you a look of begrudging acceptance.

“I hear ya,” he said. The man was a hermit himself, so if anyone was going to understand your self-barricading, it was Marv.

He handed you a hard-copy manilla envelope containing his monthly report, because he also had a disdain for email.

“Why don’t you give this to Nick yourself?” you asked with a frown.

Marv held up placating hands. “Because he’s an ass, and I can only deal with so much idiocy in my life.”

“Then give it to Josh! He’s the new Senior Manager,” you pointed out.

“Josh kisses Nick’s ass. Therefore, he’s become an even bigger idiot,” Marv replied. “I’m telling you, my constitution just can’t bear it.”

You rolled your eyes and took the folder from him. “All right, get outta here. I’ll deal with this.”

“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head. He soon left to return to his hole of an office. You’d only been in there once. It had been stacked to high heaven with books and loose papers. You didn’t know how the man functioned, but you assumed it was equal parts caffeine and Prozac.

So you took the report, and you went up to the 30th floor for the first time in months.

You went down the hall to Josh’s office first, but you could hear from the other side of the closed door that he was locked in a meeting with one of the more difficult clients.

You could come back later, or just drop the folder off with Nick’s assistant.

You went back down the hall and found that Nick’s office door was cracked open, but you weren’t about to go in, even just to deliver a simple report. You didn’t want to speak to him, let alone enter his office.

His assistant was out on a break, it seemed, so you couldn’t just give it to her. You contemplated leaving it on her desk with a note. But that’s when you heard the voices coming from within the office.

“As you know, my father’s back in town,” you heard Nick say. You inched closer to the door and cautiously peeked through the three inches of space in the doorway. There was another man inside, slightly taller than Nick, but leaner. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a plaid shirt. His long arms were crossed as he listened.

You could tell by the way he stood, however, that this wasn’t an associate from one of their accounts. He didn’t look like a businessman or a lawyer. The way he stood was sharper, more calculated even in his laxness.

Your brain caught up with the conversation as Nick continued to speak.

“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Keep an eye on the cop. Wait for an opportunity.”

“Together, huh? Azazel has his orders. You trying to take his place?” the other man replied. His voice was thin and nasal. You saw his profile, however. His eyes were dangerous.

Your gaze widened at the implications of his words though. Azazel?!

“Dad agrees with me. The guy’s not getting the hint, so we’ll need to remind him who really makes the rules,” Nick said.

You blinked in shock. Holy shit…Nick’s father is Azazel.

You clasped a hand over your mouth before the gasp could escape. A sharp breath still echoed through the hall. The men’s heads began to turn, but you did as well—away from the door and booking it down the hall as quietly and quickly as you could.

Your heart pounded while you searched for a way out of the hallway, out of plain sight. You found the nearest bathroom and went into the women’s. It seemed empty, at least.

There you rushed into one of the stalls and locked it. You realized that you had your phone in your pocket, and you took it out with trembling hands. Your thumb hovered over Dean’s name as panicked breaths escaped you.

But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.

It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Winchester,” he answered.

“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”

“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”

“He’s Nick’s father,” you hissed. Trying to contain yourself and speak quietly was not easy. “I met him once at a company networking event, like a month after I got hired. Daniel Savage. He built Savage & Co. from the ground up. But he handed off the reigns to Nick years ago.”

It seemed to take John a moment to compute on that one, but he eventually replied.

“You’re at the office now?” John asked.

“Uh, yeah!” you replied testily. “I’m hiding out in a bathroom stall.”

“Okay, take it slow, all right?” he said. “You’re gonna go back to your office, calm. Like you didn’t just hear what you heard. You’re gonna take an early lunch, and you’re gonna come straight to the precinct for me. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

You took a deep breath to steady yourself as you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Okay. I need to call Dean,” you said.

“I’ll fill him in. Just focus on getting out of there,” John said.

You agreed, but you still felt shaky when you ended the call. No one had entered the bathroom, and it had been a few minutes already, so you chanced stepping out of the stall and into the hallway. That too was empty.

You sucked in another steadying breath. This time you went down the stairs to get back to your office. It felt unusually warm in the stairwell. Hot enough that you actually started to sweat on the way down to the 22nd floor.

Damn, did the AC break or something?

You made it back to your office, though when you opened the door, you were unable to be relieved. Nick sat in your chair at your desk. He gave you a smile.

“Good morning,” he said.

“You’re not supposed to be in here. Get out,” you snapped. You had no patience for another tête-à-tête with him today; especially after what you just saw.

And it hit you then. You were a witness.

You eyed Nick more warily. He had one of his gold golf clubs in his hand, and he leaned on it as he stood. He set up a putter’s stance next to your desk and hit a golf ball with a gentle swing. The ball rolled into your flat shoe.

“I want to go over that report you brought upstairs,” he said.

You shook your head and went cautiously over to your desk. Your purse was inside (you were kicking yourself for not taking it with you upstairs). Nick was too close to your desk for comfort, until he moved to retrieve his golf ball. It allowed you to move farther into the room.

“Anything you want to discuss can be done via email. Right now, I’m meeting a friend for lunch,” you lied. Your gaze was off the man for maybe a few seconds while you grabbed your purse from inside the desk. Another realization hit you in that moment.

How did he know it was me who brought the report?

By the time you looked up, Nick was shutting the door to your office. He tilted his head at you with a darker edge to his smile.

“You saw something you weren’t supposed to. Didn’t you, sweetheart?” he said.

You steeled yourself with a breath. You felt inside your purse, and your hand wrapped around your taser. You pulled it out and switched it on, pointing it towards him.

“Step away from the door or I’ll fry your ass,” you threatened. It lost its effect somewhat, with the way your hand was shaking, but it was a threat, nonetheless.

Nick raised his brows at you. He still had his golf club in hand. His movements were slow as he stepped away from the door, and closer towards you.

“Sure you know how to work that thing?” he teased with a shrug of his shoulders. “If I were you, I’d take a breath. Relax a bit. Come sit on my knee.”

That last bit was teasing, despite the way he eyed you, even now with a shade of desire. The kind that claimed and stole in its taking. It made you want to spit in his face.

“You’re a bastard,” you replied. “Turns out, the bastard apple doesn’t fall far from the bastard tree.”

“Watch it,” Nick warned. You saw the dangerous edge in his blue eyes. “That’s my dad you’re talking about.”

He swung the club at your head.

You managed to duck, yelping as it crashed into a lamp instead. You tried to run for the door, but that was when Nick grabbed you by the hair and nearly yanked the hairclip right out.

A short scream escaped your lips as you grabbed for his wrist. He shoved you hard into the wall, where you lost your footing and fell. Your head cracked against the accent table that once held the lamp, and your vision blurred on the way down. Glass crackled under your arm and bit into your cheek.

A strong hand grabbed you and hefted you up. You felt a trickle of wetness rolling down the side of your face as you stared up into his. It must’ve been blood, but all you could focus on was the satisfaction in Nick’s eyes. Finally, they seemed to say.

But then he paused. Confusion was written across his face.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked. You both saw it climbing under the door of your office.

It was a distraction that broke you out of your frozen fear.

On pure instinct, you jabbed at Nick’s ribs with your taser. His hands fell away from you and he went down like an elephant, jolting and writhing on the ground. You gasped for breath above him while you realized what you’d just done. You tilted your head down at him.

No, you weren’t done.

You grabbed his golf club with your free hand. When he tried to reach for your ankle, you jammed the heavy club into his hand until he shouted in pain. For every moment of frustration, anxiety, and fear this man had caused you, you gave it back to him with one heavy swing of that club into his stomach. (And maybe one more for good measure.)

He doubled over, groaning, coughing a bit of blood. You tossed the golf club and grabbed your purse with a shaking hand. You left him where he laid.

As soon as you open the door, however, you were pushed back by the cloud of incoming smoke. You coughed and squinted against it, but your eyes widened again when you realized what was happening.

The building was on fire.

For some reason the alarms weren’t going off, but it was clear to see what was in front of you. Smoke was clogging the halls. People were rushing out of their offices for the stairwell. You couldn’t help glancing back at Nick; he was slowly pulling himself to his feet.

Part of you knew he might not make it if you left him, but when he looked up at you, with pure hatred, your fear overrode any mercy that might’ve made you turn around.

So you fled for the stairwell behind the small crowd. There were flames making their way down along with the smoke. That was all right, because you all were running in the opposite direction.

You had to blink a drop of blood out of your eyes, and you raised a shaky hand to a cut above your brow, which was also tender to the touch. You were bleeding, clearly, but you couldn’t think about that right now. You were just trying your best not to get pushed or trampled while you hastened down several floors.

The signs pointed to Floor 10 when you felt a buzzing in your pocket. It was your phone, you realized. You were about to fish it out of your pocket, but you were forced to stop short on the stairs, along with everyone else.

The flames were coming from the floor below as well, blocking your exit.

Once again, Dean frowned while checking his phone. You still hadn’t answered his text from an hour ago. Benny came to sit beside him on the couch in the firehouse common room.

“What’s got you spacin’ out?” Benny asked, noting his friend’s mood.

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted. “But I’ve got a bad feeling, Benny.”

Benny’s brows furrowed. “Why, what’s wrong?”

Before Dean could answer, his phone rang in his hand. He perked up to answer it, until he realized it was his dad calling. He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hey, what’s up?” Dean greeted.

“Thanks to your girl, we know who Azazel is,” John said. “Daniel Savage. Nick is his son.”

Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach; his shock was followed swiftly by worry.

“What? How’d she find that out?”

“She called me this morning. I told her to come straight to the precinct, but she’s not here yet. That was an hour ago,” John said gravely.

Dean’s eyes widened.

And then the alarm sounded overhead. Over the intercom the dispatcher reported a working fire at a commercial building. The address was the same as your work building: Savage & Co.

“Is that you?” John asked, once the intercom message was finished.

“Yeah,” Dean said. He was already up and out of the firehouse, getting his turnout gear on with the phone pressed to his ear. His heart was hammering in his chest, but his tone was rock steady.

“If she’s still in that building, I’m gonna find her.”

Firehouses 18 and 20 had already arrived by the time Firehouse 25 got to the scene of the Savage & Co. building. The flames were sky-high, consuming from the top and the bottom. Just by looking at it, Dean thought there had to have been at least two points of origin (where the fire was started). He doubted this was an accident.

“Okay, 25,” Chief Singer said to the entire Truck 79 and Rescue Squad crew. “House 20 got here first, so Chief Sanderson’s calling the shots. He requested our help in clearing the first five floors. Their crew is already on floors 30 through 20. House 18 has the middle.”

Dean went up to Bobby and spoke just loud enough for him to hear. He filled him in on what John had just told him about Azazel, and that you were most likely somewhere in the building.

“She’s in there, Chief. I have to find her,” Dean said.

Bobby saw the desperation in the younger man’s eyes, and he sympathized. “Have you tried calling her again?”

“She’s not answering,” Dean replied. “If he found out what she knows, he could be after her. That means she could be somewhere near the top.”

“Or she’s in the middle. Or she’s already out of the building,” Bobby reasoned. He quelled Dean’s protest with a raised hand. It then fell on the younger man’s shoulder. “I understand, son. But I’ve got a protocol to follow, and so do you, Lieutenant.”

Dean’s lips pressed together. He knew his rank and his responsibility, but you were in danger. You could already be hurt, or trapped, or…

Dean rounded up Truck 79 with swift, barking orders. After donning their helmets and masks, his and Benny’s team made their way inside. The first floor was wall to wall rolling flames. The heat was nearly overwhelming, like entering the gates of hell.

There was no moving safely through the first floor, so they had to move on to the closest stairwell and try to make it up to the second. Dean held Benny back for a moment.

“I’m going up! Stick with the guys,” Dean said. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the cacophony inside the stairwell.

Benny frowned. “What’re you doin’? You heard the Chief!”

Dean shook his head. He knew he was about to defy a direct order, but he couldn’t shake the gut feeling that you were still in the building somewhere.

“I’ve gotta find her,” he said.

“You think I don’t want to find Andréa?” Benny said. “She hasn’t answered my calls either. They could be anywhere, Dean!”

Dean clasped his friend’s shoulder. “You’re making my point, man.”

And he took off up the stairs before Benny could stop him.

“Damn it, Dean!” Benny shouted after him.

“Where’s he going?” Jack asked. He and Gordon were the only ones to hang back while the rest of their crew followed their orders and searched the second floor, not realizing that their Lieutenant was no longer with them.

“To go be an idiot,” Benny growled. But he wasted no more time. He followed Dean up the stairwell.

Gordon shared a quick look with Jack before he started his own climb up the stairs.

“You can follow protocol, or you can back up the Lieutenant,” Gordon called down.

In that moment, Jack made a decision. He followed Gordon and Benny.

You had to follow the rest of the crowd after you all couldn’t make it down the rest of the stairs safely. It landed you somewhere on the 10th floor, where the group scattered. Your head was aching, your heart pounded in your ears, and you didn’t know where to go.

You fled for the stairwell on the other side of the building, and in turning a corner, you smacked right into Andréa. You gasped when you caught hold of each other.

“Oh my God!” she cried, and she grabbed you into a hug. “Are you okay? Why’re you bleeding?”

“Catch up later,” you choked out. It was so hard to breathe; you were coughing every few moments.

She looked on you worriedly and let out a cough herself. “Come on.”

She pulled you along with her by the arm. You joined a smaller group that were heading for the opposite stairwell. Unfortunately, not all of you would make it there.

A piece of the weakened ceiling crumbled and fell in a fiery heap. Andréa had been just a couple steps in front of you, and it meant you saw it before she did. You pushed her forward so she would make it across. You were forced to stop short and protect your face from the embers.

You nearly tripped and fell back, but you used the wall to steady yourself. You looked up at the sound of Andréa calling your name. You found her terrified face. There was now a wall of fire separating you from her and the rest of the group.

“Keep going!” you coughed. “I’ll find another way.”

“No, I’m not leaving you!” she called back. She pushed away the man that tried to urge her on towards the stairwell.

“Go!” you shouted, even though it raked across your throat. You forced yourself to straighten up and turn away from her. The only chance you had was if there was a way around this hallway that still led to the stairs.

Oh shit, you gasped when you turned the corner. The fire was only getting worse. The building was being consumed, and you almost couldn’t see past a few feet in front of you with all the smoke. It stung in your eyes and clogged your throat.

You stumbled along until you found a room that you could escape into. It was another restroom. The fire hadn’t yet reached inside the women’s bathroom on this floor; maybe you could wait it out like you would a tornado.

Okay, clearly I’m fucking delirious, you thought. You huddled in a corner under the sink and tried and failed to take even breaths without coughing or panicking. You pulled out your phone with shaking hands and tried once again to call Dean. The reception was absolute shit in the entire building now.

It rang, and rang, and rang. Tears slipped down your cheeks.

But despite your dismayed thoughts, he actually answered.

“Hey! Baby, are you there?!”

Your mouth fell open in shock. You clutched at the phone. “Dean!”

You coughed, and you realized smoke was rising under the bathroom door now. The fire would spread here soon enough.

“Where are you? I’m here at your building!”

“Bathroom, 10th floor!” you managed to reply. “I couldn’t get out.”

“It’s okay. I’m coming right now,” he said. “Stay put for me.”

“Yeah,” you said, with a shaky breath. You couldn’t exactly leave. “Dean, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “Where’s…r—oom?”

He was glitching in and out. You gripped the phone tighter in panic. “Dean?”

“Can…ear m…”

“Dean!” Your tears fell anew. You had another reason to struggle for breath as you tried to reach him.

You slid out from under the sink to try and get better reception, but it was no use. The call failed.

“Shit!” You nearly tossed your cell across the room out of sheer frustration.

Then you paced back and forth, trying to think of what to do. Should you leave your momentary shelter to go and find him, or would that just run the risk of him never finding you.

You didn’t know. You didn’t know what to do.

God, I’m so fucking screwed…

You slumped against the wall and tried to stifle your coughing, all while you also tried (and failed) to form some kind of a plan.

Until the bathroom door bursting open startled a scream out of you. Was the fire coming in?!

The move did allow more smoke to infiltrate the bathroom, but instead of the fire, you saw a firefighter in all his gear. This time, it did include the helmet.

“Fire Department!” he called out.

You would know that voice anywhere. And even through the mask, you recognized the man’s eyes when he went to you.

“Dean,” you sobbed. It was halted only by a series of lung-wracking coughs and wheezing. He quickly took his helmet and mask off so he could fit the mask over your soot-covered face.

“It’s okay, deep breaths. I gotcha, baby, just breathe,” Dean encouraged. His arm was around your waist, holding you close while the oxygen finally allowed you to take in slower breaths and relax against him.

“Okay, let’s get out of here, huh?” he said. He put his helmet back on.

You grabbed the front of his jacket. “Don’t you need the mask?”

You were still having trouble breathing, coughing on every other word. Dean shook his head.

“You need it more right now,” he said.

You realized that Benny was holding the bathroom door open.

“We gotta go!” he said.

“Benny, Andréa was here,” you said. His eyes widened behind his mask. “She got out, I think. She made it to the west stairwell.”

“Okay, yeah, because no one’s getting out the east wing,” Gordon said. You noted him standing just behind Benny, with Jack in tow.

“There’s a block,” you said, pointing just ahead where you saw the pile of debris. More parts of the ceiling had crumbled around it, making it a fiery minefield. There was no other way around it at this point—only through it.

Gordon and Jack went through first, followed by Benny. With their jackets and protective gear, they were able to jump through like a flaming hoop. And they would be able to help catch you and Dean from the other side.

“Okay, you ready?” Dean asked.

“If I say no?” you said, holding onto him tighter. His hand soothed over your hair. You’d lost your clip a long time ago (along with your purse), so your hair was probably wild and frizzy and covered in soot, along with the rest of you.

Dean grinned down at you. “Then I’d say, don’t you worry. I’m not gonna let you fall.”

Even now, through your fear, he could make you smile. You steeled yourself and took a breath. You could hear it so clearly with the mask on. That, and your own heartbeat.

He counted down to three, and on the last beat, Dean covered your head and shoulders and ran with you under the flame-covered ceiling. He managed to help you jump over the fiery debris on the ground. On both of your heavy landings, a wooden support beam fell.

There was a shout from Benny, but it was too late. All Dean could do was cover you. The beam broke over his back and knocked his helmet clean off. He took you with him when he fell.

Your scream rang out—half at the fall, but mostly for Dean. It was Benny who dragged you and Dean out first. Gordon and Jack took over hefting an unconscious Dean, while Benny hauled you up onto your feet and led you to the west stairwell.

You passed out just as you felt fresh air hit the mask.

You woke to bright, fluorescent lighting that made you wince. An oxygen mask covered your mouth and nose and was strapped around your head. You made a sound of discomfort and tried to take it off, but a hand stilled yours.

“Don’t.”

Eileen’s concerned face came into view. You were confused, though happy to see her.

“You’re in the hospital,” she said. When you tried to speak, she held up a finger to you. Wait, said her eyes.

She took out her phone from her jean pocket to text someone.

“Sam is coming,” she told you, before she drew closer to sooth a hand up and down your arm. You felt tears in your eyes at just that small comfort.

They fell in earnest when Sam entered your hospital room. His eyes held the concern of a friend and a brother as he approached on your other side.

“Hey, how do you feel?” he asked, laying a hand on your shoulder.

You wheezed a breath and rasped, “Water.”

Sam nodded and grabbed you a plastic cup filled with cold water. It felt like literal heaven once the mask was off and you were able to drink. He helped you while Eileen held the mask away from your face.

After you’d had all you could drink, he took the cup and Eileen placed the mask back over your face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked, after clearing your throat. You still sounded like a chain smoker, and your head was pounding. “Is he okay?”

“He’s stable,” Sam said, with a sigh. But when he didn’t offer anything more, you raised expectant brows at him.

“What else?” you said. Your tone told him not to skimp on any more details.

Sam’s gaze met yours. “The beam burned through his jacket, on his back. It hit his head. They…had to perform a minor surgery to relieve the pressure in his brain, but he’s stable in recovery now.”

He was quick to add on that last bit when you began to crumble. Eileen encouraged you to breathe through your tears. The oxygen could only do half the battle if you didn’t breathe properly.

“I want to see him,” you said.

Sam frowned and held up a placating hand. “I don’t think that’s—”

You ignored him and tried to sit up. With or without his approval, you were getting out of this bed.

“Okay, you’re not listening,” Sam sighed, though he immediately went to help you. He shot Eileen an imploring look over your head.

She got the hint and helped you on her side. Together they helped you stand while you removed the mask, then the heart monitor and other wires taped to your torso.

The Emergency Department team had left your pants on, thank goodness, but they’d clipped through your blouse and bra. So the paper gown was mostly to cover your top half like a light blue poncho. It was a bit airy in the back, but Eileen held it closed for you. Right now, you didn’t care much about your modesty. You were also walking around the hospital barefooted.

At least Dean was on the same floor. It was just a long walk down the hall.

“Can you call Benny and ask how Andréa’s doing?” you asked, coughing a bit.

Sam eyed you in thinly veiled concern, but he agreed. The last he’d heard from Benny was that Andréa had been cleared by the paramedics with minor smoke inhalation. You were clearly worse.

Sam held you upright when you finally saw Dean. He had to guide you into a chair beside Dean’s bed, where he slept on his side. On his back was a large stretch of white gauze across his upper back, from nearly shoulder to side at an angle.

“The doctor said they’re only second-degree burns. It looks worse than it is,” Sam said quietly.

Eileen rubbed your back in the hopes that you’d stop crying.

You could only focus on the gauze, the smaller nicks and burns around Dean’s face, the bandage and thick gauze near his temple where they’d apparently had to drill into his skull. He also wore an oxygen mask, because if all that wasn’t enough, you were sure “smoke inhalation” was on the list, thanks to the way he’d given you his SCBA mask.

Gently, very gently, you took his hand. Your thumb swept over the back of it, over each knuckle.

“Did they say when he’d wake up?” you asked. You rubbed at your aching stomach. Does smoke inhalation cause nausea too?

Your chest was also tight. You’d head back to your room sooner or later and get the oxygen mask back on.

Before Sam could reply, you heard a groan below. You looked down at Dean with wide-eyed hope. It took a moment, but his eyes slid open. They were unfocused and dark, until they found your face.

You smiled tearfully. “Hey, baby.”

Your free hand caressed his cheek. His eyes briefly closed at your touch. When he realized you were holding his hand, he squeezed a bit. That was enough for you.

Just then, however, you had to let go of his hand. Whatever was left in your stomach from this morning seemed to be revolting. You turned your head quick to throw up onto the hospital floor.

Both Sam and Eileen called your name when you slid out of your chair and onto the floor. You blinked tears out of your eyes…or actually, it was black spots encroaching on your vision.

Sam pushed the chair out of his way to get to you. He gathered you into his arms and shouted for a doctor while Eileen went for the emergency button on Dean’s hospital bed.

The last thing you saw was Dean’s worried face out of the corner of your eye, before the blackness took you.

Dean could barely speak behind his oxygen mask, but Sam saw his worry as the nurses carried you away in a stretcher with Eileen following close behind. Sam crouched in front of his brother and clasped his hand.

“She’ll be okay, I promise. I’m gonna look out for both of you,” Sam said. “Right now, you need to sleep.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. In that small gesture, Sam also saw his stubbornness. He almost smiled. You and Dean were a match made.

“Just rest, Dean. I’m going now to check on her, but not until you close your eyes,” Sam said. It took another stubborn minute, but Dean eventually relaxed as well as he was able. His eyes closed as he fell back under the pull of medication and painkillers.

“How’s he doing?” came the voice of their father in the doorway. Sam’s expression morphed from gentle to austere. His head turned towards his father.

“How does he look like he’s doing?” Sam asked. “He had a burning ceiling fall on him. He has the mother of all concussions, and he just saw his girlfriend collapse.”

John was quiet, in contrast to his youngest son’s ire. He stepped into the room and watched his eldest. Sam saw the man’s age in the lines around his eyes, in his slow gait when he raised a gentle hand to comb through Dean’s greasy hair, mindful of his injuries.

“This shouldn’t have fucking happened,” said John. His voice was tired and gruff. Sam knew what the weight of guilt looked like, but what he didn’t yet see was regret. If John hadn’t kept digging, digging, Azazel wouldn’t have taken it this far.

Okay, Sam didn’t yet have proof that Azazel burned down the Savage & Co. building…but he didn’t believe in coincidences.

“No,” Sam said. “It shouldn’t have.”

“What the fuck was that?!” Nick shouted.

He was still dusted with soot and sporting some cracked ribs from the day’s activities. He’d stumbled into his father’s house, taken a bottle of bourbon from the man’s shelf and started drinking straight from the crystal glass.

Daniel eyed him coolly from the balcony, smoking a cigar. “Whatever do you mean, son?”

Nick was furious. He stomped over, not caring how expensive liquor was splashing on him.

“Why’d you burn the whole damn building?” he demanded to know. “I could’ve died!”

“Alistair got you out, didn’t he?” Daniel pointed towards his son with the hand that held his cigar. “See, unlike you, I think ahead.”

“I’m serious,” Nick hissed. “Our company is still important—”

“My company,” Daniel interjected, “is not that building. However, the building itself was a liability.”

Nick’s brows knit together in confusion and anger. “What the hell’re you talking about?”

Daniel took a long drag of his cigar, puffing in Nick’s face. The latter coughed. As if he hadn’t had enough smoke in his lungs today.

“Don’t you see?” Daniel asked, with a sigh that also said he wondered how he could’ve produced such a moron. “It puts distance between you and ‘Azazel’ if you’re also a victim of his threats. It destroys any physical evidence of me having been there, along with any files you would’ve eventually had to turn over to the police and the FBI.”

Nick let that idea sink into his brain. He realized that it did make sense…but he deflated as something else occurred to him.

“Uh…see, that would’ve worked, but, we have a problem,” Nick scratched his head. “Someone knows who you really are.”

By the time Nick finished explaining about you, and what you’d overheard, Daniel’s sharp gaze managed to strike fear into Nick’s heart.

Yet to his surprise, the other man’s temper didn’t blow. Daniel kept it all inside as he continued to smoke. Cigars tended to pacify him better than cigarettes.

His lips twitched at a humorless smile. “Well, that is a problem.”

“But she probably died in the fire, so we’re good,” Nick shrugged.

“No, I doubt she did,” Daniel sighed. “You’re not that lucky.”

He rolled his shoulders. Then he grabbed Nick’s arm and twisted, until his was crying out and pinned to the nearest wall. Daniel threatened to put out his cigar in the soft underbelly of the arm he held.

Nick looked up at his father with wide, pleading eyes.

“Like everything else, that girl is a problem I’m going to fix,” Daniel said. “Along with the whole Winchester brood.”

AN: 🫣 Don't hate me lol. It gets better for them, I promise. But we have a few more chapters left to go and a few more twists in store!

Next Time:

The first time Dean was awake for longer than a few minutes, he asked about you.

Sam wasn’t surprised. He was frankly relieved that he had an answer for his brother.

Keep Reading: PART 17

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Break Down the Gates #Smoke Eater #Part 16 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #john winchester #sam winchester #eileen leahy #zepskies writes

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slooopes · 2 days

Text

Ranchers from @soemthingsparkly fic Hermit Coffee Co.

#hcc #mcyt fanart #traffic smp #tangotek #tango fanart #tango tek fanart #jimmy solidarity #jimmy solidarity fanart #solidaritygaming #fic rec #fic ref #rancher duo #team rancher

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e-to-the-v · 2 months

Note

Bestie I saw your post about SUPERCRITICAL and you are so right omg. This is golden. Any other recs you can give me?

Well that depends on what your looking for

For Scarian- “Lost Letters” by stressedbisexualTM, “It’s a Bad Idea, Right?” By funkyplantguy, “Sailing on a Ship in a Bottle” by Captian_axolotl, “Come Closer, Sir, and I’ll eat you alive” By TheBrainrotIsStrongWithThisOne, “Hershey Kisses” by HolographicMoon, “Starboy” By mariuspunmercy,“Suddenly I’m Holding the whole world in my arms”by SalixWrites, “An Allay for an Ally” By Serazimei, “Look at you (Strawberry Blond)” By atiredDMwhoneedssleep (fair warning this is a sad one), “Banned” by HolyMolyGuacamole, “Chasing the Horizon Line” by Nine_of_Diamonds, also there’s the DDVA by kitsune here on tumblr

If you’re a Mumscarian- “The Hermit Coffee Co.” By LuminousMe, “Sorry, I Have a Boyfriend” by RockCatTomato,

If you want just a Mumbo & Grian friendship- “I MISS MY DADS”, “the best of the worst” by Froggiestarrock, “Wait… Piracy isnt illegal?” By Ao3poster

If you want to try one I’ve been following with a Smalletho- “burning flames or paradise (superhero au)” by INSOMNYA, “Somehow, I always end up back in Marianas Trench” by Prudent_seer, honestly you can find good ones here by just scrolling on their tag.

Most of these are not finished, sad I know, but they are fun to keep up with

Also I haven’t read everything and there’s are plenty more great one out there (like a how to train your dragon scarian one) and I try to stay away from smut and other things. But here’s some suggestions!

#scarian #hermitcraft #mumscarian #fan fiction #ao3 fanfic #smalletho

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imlivinginyourtrashcan · 6 months

Note

Gat any juicy ✨aPoCaLyPsE✨ aus??? (Any other are welcome too, I will eat.)

GO ALL OUT, DO IT.

Ahh!!! Ok. I dont personally have any apocalypse aus, HOWEVER!!!! I can make up headcannons for how I see things going in this hypothetical

Now the rules I personally am going to use is Zombieland and Last of Us. Im not doing slow zombie shit thats BORING!!!! Alright, here we go.

Cartman:

The first one to be bit out of the boys

Look, Zombieland rule number one right here

Tbh he thought the person who bit him escaped the looney bin

He didnt care

...until he realized his mom was turned

Fuck

So naturally he goes to Kyles

Got there last tho

Kyle let him in

Look, he may hate Cartman but he felt bad!

The turning process took 3 days after he was bit

Day one was the show of pink eye, eye crust and a slight green tint

Second day he looks worse, eyes look all hazy and he looks grener and more deshevled

Third day; yeah hes turned, foaming at the mouth

Butters went to check on him since hes the medic and it ended with Kyle killing him and Kenny getting bit

Kyle:

Didnt know the apocalypse was happening for a good while

Just knew he wasnt going to school for a while so win win

That was until they were out one day and saw a zombie themselves

Oh yeah theyre OUT!!!

Making a break for the house Kyle had to watch his parents get bit

Picked up Ike and was outie like a belly button!!!

Had to gear up on survivalist stuff

Guns, medical equipment, stuff like that

Somehow became the leader of a small group including himself, Ike, Kenny, Stan, Butters, and Cartman.

They stayed at his house until they discover Tolkien's alive

Now they on their way to his house (which has more space and food)

Either the last to be bitten or a survivor

Very distrusting of new people after the cartman incident

Or just people in general

Checks DAILY for bites

If someone's found with a bite they talk to Kyles PEW PEW

Stan:

Co leader of Kyles little resistance thing

Goes out with him on hunts or killing sprees

Found his house after his sister was turned

Not the first few bit but he def doesnt survive

Its either a self sacrifice thing or something depressing where Kyle and Stan are crying

Kyle has to leave him behind which really sucks :(

But they arent having another Cartman situation.

During the apocalypse his drinking problem gets worse

Several times where the group was thinking of just leaving him cuz hes a liability but Kyles like

"No dude hes my friend >:("

Kept Sparky around to sniff for stuff and as a general alert system

Someone at the door?

BARKBARK BARK

Someones turned?

BARKBARKBARK

Stuff like that

OOOOO Sparkys gonna be SADDD when Stan dies

Or he'll just die with him

Idk

Kenny:

Second to be bit and turned

Before that he was the rations, weapons, drinks, etc guy

Main weapon was a flame thrower

Why? Cuz its cool as hell

Def gives tallahassee from Zombieland in a survival scenario

That man will do CRAZY SHIT

God i LOVE Tallahassee!!!!

Shame Kenny got bit

They basically were like

"Yeah no"

And threw him outside.

Then Kyle and Stan became the new scavengers

Poor Kenny :(

Butters:

Both his parents turned so he was outie like a belly button

Left with more truama than he had

Ended up becomming the group medic

The boys try to do everything to keep him from turning

Their efforts are successful until they make their way to Tolkiens

Then he gets bit by a zombie cuz hes frozen in some kinda fear

Kenny returns and CHOMP

Then the groups like "FUCK" and run away

He did survive for a while so like, good on him

But his ass cant use a weapon for shit

Tweek:

It could go both ways with him

Either he dies really early

Or dies really late

But i do think hes a hermit whos gone crazy in bith scenario

He def things Craig and his friends are dead

Hes survived on eating coffee beans and no sleep

Eventually tho i think he cant take it anymore and runs for the zombie hoarde

A certain someone does save him tho and hes in a camp with a few other people

Still bonkers crazy tho

Man thinks hes in heaven

Talking for hours abt how excited he is to see Craig

Poor dude is nuts

Craig:

The one who saved Tweek

Has a resistance of his own with Dougie, Wendy, Terrance Mephesto, Bebe, Clyde, Damien, Mike and Pip (yes Pip is alive in this au. Fight me)

They have a pretty big camp, too.

Theyve essentially been glamping for half the apocalypse

Staying in the mephesto place for like, the entirety of the apocalypse

Pip informs Craig on Tweeke mental state very often (Pip is the medic and group therapist)

Craig is almost never at the base cuz hes out getting stuff

Makes sure to go out in something the zombies cant bite through too

Just in case

Leaves Stripe in Pip's care, ends up bonding with him too

"Yknow frenchie? You arent that bad"

"Uhm..im not french, but thank you!"

On a mission to find Tricia since they seperated

Least he found Tweek

Main weapon is a sniper rifle. Likes hanging out on rooftops and going zombie hunting that way.

Informs the group on the staus of the people hes seen as Zombies.

"So uh... Stan, Cartman, Kenny, and Butters turned.."

And the whole groupis just like 😨

Clyde:

If you think this man is lasting long you are a FOOL

That man would see something truamtic

Cry

And get eaten by a zombie hoarde

I dont see him contributing much to a group at all

Just staying inside cuz hes a wuss

They had to force him out

And thats when he fucking died

Jimmy:

Staying in Tolkiens house with him

Theyre pretty set on food and water

Will go out with Tolkien if they need to get stuff

Can use crutches as a close combat weapon

Trying to keep the situation light

Joking abt everything to make Tolkien feel better

More than happy to welcome the rest of the boys into their home

Survivor, yes, im biased

Tolkien:

Stayed pretty much unaffected by the apocalypse, lucky fuck

Goes out with Jimmy if they need anything

Became the new leader of the resistance

Kyles now on medic duty

Also a survivor

Makes sure weapons are all good and everything

Very good with the organization aspect of the apocalypse.

House is also very spacious

Overhears mephesto working on a cure so that keeps his morale high

Nichole is also staying with him and Jimmy, but mostly for security.

Girl can kick ass

Hope you enjoyed, anons!

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bluiex · 10 months

Note

Hello! I’m back again up at ungodly hours going insane with ideas. Was working on who ever I forgot the last time BUT I’m not done yet!

Scar is still mayor but works part time with the scientist to help them, like a good mayor should!

Bdubs is still mayor’s right hand, but like he just owns a random coffee shop he (use to) co-owns with his maybe best friend maybe FWB(aka Etho)

I was rewatching and reading the wiki for what I should take from cannon to add and saw that Etho was a double agent that ended up siding with the MR(mycelium resistance) so like- same thing here- since he’s such close friends with Bdubs he got info from Bdubs then got caught by Bdubs, talking to Mother Spore

(imagine- “Mother! I’ve got the information you wanted” Bdubs knew that voice from anywhere, it was Etho.. but that’s strange…Etho’s mother died years ago, he was there for the funeral.

“Thank you love”(parents call their child by pet names like love, babes, little mama etc, no ship sicko😡) As Bdubs turned the corner, he saw her(him? The team still wasn’t sure) lightly touching Etho’s cheek, like a mother trying to calm her crying child.

He must of said something out loud cause she(?) snap her head to him before running off, Etho on her back(it reminded him of the times when they were children, but it was only Etho giving him pig back rides as he wasn’t strong enough to hold him)

Bdubs did not return to work for two days, of course the mayor came to check that he had not been taken(and maybe became a therapist for those few hours he was there for) But he was heart broken and maybe one day…maybe one day, he’ll be okay.)

Joe Hills is Joe Hills and he worked at his friend Cleo’s museum before taking it over after she disappeared.

Cleo didn’t join the MR, I don’t know why but I want her to disappear and I mean she’d fit in with the MR cause you know, gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. But- idk

Beef owns the local supermarket, many of the locals believe he’s a vampire tho none can prove it.

Iskall owns the biggest architectural company(idk why but I want to make him just disappear too but I’m not.)

Hypno- Hypno just a random guy who owns a few shops(the diamond store and the trident store for fisherman) who happened to be friends with a few of the missing (XB, Jevin and TFC)

I still don’t know what to do with Wels.

(I’m still working on placing all the other hermits and a one else I want to add. They’ll all get something special, even if just one scene.)

-🌺🪸🥀

Yesyes please keep Etho being a double agent! Then going to the resistance anyways

Wels could probably be an "arms" dealer (Idk giving both sides weapons an stuff along those lines)

#bluie gets an ask poggers #spire au #long post

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prismadog · 2 years

Text

I've made a part 2 to the sad dragon mom with an egg that won't hatch fic thingy I made uh...a day ago? two days? idk, the other day. Also, I've named it "Making a Nest a Home" [not the best-fitting title but it's the best fit I could make with a stupid headache]

there's also an Ao3 thingy for it! Here's the link -> ao3: making a nest a home

here's a link to part 1 -> making a nest a home part 1

“Well, boys, I think we’ve done it,” Pearl says, taking a step back from their work.

“Have we?” Mumbo asks while Impulse says, “We finally did it,” and Scar says, “By golly, we did, didn’t we?”

The four members of Boatem stand back from the table, admiring their creation. On said table sits an extremely large nest - one big enough for a person, or well, a small hermit with wings and a dragon egg.

It took them no less than a week, a lot of trial and error, and running on nothing but coffee and energy drinks to complete their nest. They had studied different types of nests from various books, asked False about her eagle’s nest, and even talked to Ren about his chickens and their nests. And then they went to work and did the impossible - they made a nest that couldn’t fall apart.

Pearl carved the base of the nest out of obsidian - a task that was far more difficult than she realized. Mumbo and Impulse put their heads together to make a machine that lines the underside of the base and can not only change temperatures based on the user’s preferences, but also expand and morph into a protective shield should the user need it to. Scar provided many materials to the others and spent his time making bedding for the nest, bedding that’s tear-resistant, is heavy enough to provide a feeling of safety but also is breathable so that one doesn’t get overheated - it’s also soft to boot.

“Well, it looks…functional,” Impulse says.

“Very functional,” Scar agrees.

Pearl nods, agreeing as well, “and it won’t fall apart.”

“Well, it uh, certainly looks all right,” Mumbo says, “but uh, maybe a bit plain?” The others look at him, heads tilted or brows raised, and he feels like he said something odd. “I, well, I mean, it’s sturdy, but uh,” he shifts where he stands, fingers twitching, “don’t you think that the nests we saw were, uh, I dunno, a bit more…fancy?”

They look at the nest again. Their nest looks good, but it doesn’t look like False’s or Ren’s. False’s eagle’s nest has mushrooms, and banners, and strings of bells, and moss. Ren’s chickens have nests with fur, and ribbons, and copper wire woven into the mix. And the nests they read about had all kinds of things mixed in, anywhere from sticks to paper to shiny strips of metal.

Their nest…is plain.

“Oh I know!” Pearl exclaims, “I’ll add one of my Padllama co. carpets!” and from her inventory, she produces said carpet, a pink one with colorful dots all over it. She drapes it over the side of the nest.

“Oh good idea, Pearl,” Impulse says. “I’ll add something too, but, I need to go back to my base and get it.”

“I have something too, but uh, it’s in Treeza currently.”

“Well, I, always moving two steps ahead, have an extra Official Swaggon Top Hat™ on me at all times,” Scar says, digging through his inventory for a long moment. “Uh…on second thought, might be in my other pants.”

“Go get your things so we can add them.”

“Right.”

“Okay.”

“Be back in a jiffy!”

Mumbo is the first back, suit jacket in hand. “It’s been awhile since I’ve worn any of my suits,” he says, “But maybe Grian’ll like it?” He places said suit jacket on the edge of the nest next to Pearl’s llama carpet.

“I’m sure he will, Mumbo.”

Impulse is the second to return, one of his t-shirts draped over his arm but also has a bag of amethyst shards in his hand. “I didn’t know if the shirt or the amethyst would be better so I brought both.” He sets both items in the nest.

Scar is the last to return, a second top hat in hand, but he’s holding it upside-down as if he’s ready to pull a rabbit from it. “Sorry I took so long, guys, had to find my Hat Shulker.” He walks over to the nest, tips his hat, and three fish toys tumble out. “Jellie wanted to contribute too so she offered some of her toys,” he says, setting his hat in the nest.

They all take a step back to look over the nest again.

“Well, that’s better than before,” Pearl says, “But, it’s still missing something.”

“What if we get stuff from the other hermits too?” Impulse asks. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind contributing if it meant helping a fellow hermit feel better.”

“That’s a great idea, Impulse! Grian’ll love that.”

“So, uh, do we go all as a group or uh, split up?”

“I say we split up so we can cover more ground.”

Pearl pulls out a map of the server and spreads it out on another table. “I’ll take the center here where Gem, False, Stress, and Jevin are. And I can stop by Etho and Iskall’s too.”

“I can visit the west here where Doc, Ren, and Wels are,” Impulse says, “I can stop by Cub and TFC’s bases as well.”

Scar glances over the map, “Well, I’m interested in seeing the Evil Empire so I’ll go there, then I’ll stop by Big Eyes Bay.”

“I guess that leaves Joe and Cleo, Xb and Hypno, and Zedaph for me, huh?” Mumbo asks. “Sounds all right.”

“All right then, boys, we have a plan,” Pearl claps her hands once, “visit each hermit and ask them for an item, explain the situation if you have to, but tell them it’s a secret and that Grian mustn’t find out.”

“Right,” the other three say in unison. They leave Pearl’s base and fly off in different directions.

Soon, they’ll meet up again, hopefully with an item from each hermit. And hopefully, they can cheer their friend up.

#hermitcraft au #dragon mom grian au #grian #pearlescentmoon #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #impulsesv #i wrote this while a migraine was knocking around in my skull so it's not as thought out or detailed as I would've liked #but hey I tried and that's all that matters

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soemthingsparkly · 2 months

Text

Edit to add: This is for my fic, The Hermit Coffee Co. - a coffee shop AU that is told primarily through texts between Hermits, with a focus on Grian, Mumbo, and Scar.

And for some entirely unplanned reason, Tango seems to pop up A LOT

#hermitblr #hermitcraft fanart #hermitcraft #jaz draws #The hermit coffee co.#mumbo jumbo #grian #grumbo

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daggerzine · 2 years

Text

Mark Monnone of Monnone Alone (also Last Leaves, ex-Lucksmiths, etc.) goes over the bumpy bits with us.

When Monnone Alone’s third album, Stay Foggy, was released last year I played it incessantly. The songs wormed their way into my brain and (thankfully) would not leave. i needed to know how the songs came together so I emailed Mark and sent him some interview questions. He said he was happy to do it, but.......the answers never came. As turns out Mark took his surfboard and headed to the furthest reaches of Finland to do “some thinking.”

As soon as he came back, a year to the date, he sent me the answers! Anywho, Stay Foggy was one of my favorite records of last year, full of top-class, charming tunes about love and anxiety. If you haven’t heard it yet please do yourself a favor. In the meantime, give a read to this interview while you’re sippin’ your Sunday coffee. As Mark would say, “Cheers!”

Da’ boys!

How and when did the songs begin to come together for Stay Foggy?

After our album Summer of the Mosquito came out, I had been working on demoing some new songs with my drummer friend Gus Franklin in late-2019 but a few months later, as the Melbourne lockdowns came into effect, I could feel that process becoming derailed so I decided to put those songs on the shelf until I could spend some time in a room again with Gus and my other bandmates Louis and Joe, which seemed rather unlikely for the minute. Around that time, my friend Jane McCracken had offered me the use of her cassette 8-track to mess around on since she wasn't using it, so I figured it was a good time to go into hermit-mode and dive into a fresh batch of songs. I've never had anything that resembled a home studio before, so it was all an exciting new experience for me. I just started listening through years worth of voice memos from my phone and seeing if any ideas could stretch out into actual songs, and as it turned out, they started to take shape pretty quickly. Lyrics were flowing freely which is unusual for my songwriting, as it's usually a massive wrestling match to come up with anything that I'm happy with. Having the opportunity to try out any idea at almost any time of day kept the whole thing fresh and bubbling along with good momentum. I've never written a dozen songs that quickly before, within like six months. It was fun to be fully immersed like that – like, humming a little idea whilst cooking dinner and and voila! three minutes later, a new bassline is recorded, the song is finished and dinner (a little overcooked perhaps) is served. Actually, my daughter – who was three at the time – should be credited as co-songwriter on a few songs as she was a constant source of inspiration with her little melodies and kooky lyrics; I think she might write the whole next album. But yeah, the 8-track cassette recorder – what a happy revelation. It seemed everyone in Melbourne was getting back to basics and teaching themselves the art of sourdough baking or making mosaics or something so it seemed the pandemic provided the perfect opportunity to reacquaint myself with some quality outdated technology like the Tascam 688. This tape machine is a beast and was apparently the height of home multitrack recording technology right before it was superseded by digital in the early 90s. I was kinda familiar with Jane's machine as I'd recorded on it seventeen years prior when Drew Cramer was in Melbourne for the summer of 2003/4 and we'd recorded a Mosquitoes album in my loungeroom. So I knew it had mojo or good juju or whatever tape machines have. Whatever it was, I liked it... and I still do. Sorry Jane!

How did you come up with the title, Stay Foggy? During the 2020 lockdowns, we were permitted one hour a day outside our homes to do exercise and go grocery shopping. It was predominantly during the wintertime, so upon stepping outside my house my glasses would invariably fog up – and wearing a mask would ensure prolonged fogginess. I got used to seeing things through the hazy lens and I kinda liked it. It reminded me of being in San Francisco during 9/11... there was a bunch of us – Hotdog, Birdy, the Hound and myself – staying at our friend Jaime's place in the Mission District so once we were awoken and had taken in the news coverage for a few hours we decided to get outta the city – we drove up to visit our pal Dusty in Arcata which is in northern California and when we arrived, the bay there and entire town were enshroud in fog and remained that way for a few days. Very eerie setting for the impending armageddon. The song Stay Foggy kinda evokes that sense of unease and uncertainty whilst being securely wrapped up in the warmth of deep friendship. That's how I perceive the vibe of the whole album, so 'Stay Foggy' seemed to be a fitting title.

How long did it take for the recording of the basic tracks? Started in April and finished up around December. Guitars, bass, vocals, various percussion (mostly bongos, cardboard boxes, guitar cases and tambourines) and a little Yamaha organ thing. My first time really playing any proper keyboards. I've totally forgotten it all now but that was a fun thing to learn.

I notice a lot of themes of isolation, anxiety and a general feeling of uneasiness in the lyrics. Is that correct? I would imagine at least partially due to COVID lockdown? Yeah, absolutely. My goal was to embrace those insular feelings – some recent, others more nostalgic – and spin them out with an uplifting bubblegummy beach party vibe that kids can roast vegan marshmallows to!

Had you known Gareth Parton (who mixed the record) previously? If not how did that come about that he got involved? Gareth first appeared in town, having moved from the UK, sometime in the early-noughties. He was trying to keep his studio chops up whilst finding his feet in a new city and so was approaching bands at the pub after seeing them play and offering his music production services for free. He was quite humble in telling us he'd worked with these great indie bands like Bearsuit and Pete & The Pirates, and didn't really go on about how he'd worked with all these bigger bands like Foals, The Breeders, Beta Band and Spiritualized, nor how he'd produced several albums for his brother's band The Go! Team... so it was lucky our friend and bandmate Louis Richter took him up on the offer and had Gareth record his band Mid-State Orange. Gareth and Louis became good mates and now we're all really tight and have worked with him a bunch – he recorded our earlier album Summer of the Mosquito and also albums for Last Leaves and the calypso-inspired party band that I play bass in – Mighty Duke & The Lords.

First song on the album.

What’s next? Have you been playing any shows? If not any on the horizon? We have been pretty quiet since covid knocked the wind out of us, but getting ready to head out on a short tour here later in October. Just five dates, but it'll be fun to stink up the van again finally, after two tourless years! We actually had a US tour in the works for earlier this year – a week of Californian shows with Boyracer, Kids on a Crime Spree and Artsick – but the wheels fell off that one for us, sadly. Hope we can make it over next year...

Tell us about some Aussie bands that you’re excited about that we may not know about? Pretty excited about all the bands we're playing with on our tour: Victoria are a Sydney band with an early-Flying Nun vibe who feature folks from Smudge and Songs; Kilroy are a post-punk group from Canberra with cool lyrics, Lily Morris is an impressive young folky songwriter with a chooglin' band, and Table Band are a brand new crew formed by Alec from ambient sun-addled surfer types Blue Divers who released one of our favourite albums last year. Cool Sounds also had a great album out last year and there's a new one coming this week. Actually, that whole family tree of bands – Partner Look, Snowy, Emma Russack & Lachlan Denton... they all put out killer albums in the past year. Redspencer, Dag and Dodda Rivka are three awesome bands who, likewise, share members and have had albums out in the past year also. Way Dynamic have their excellent debut album out soon – for fans of Chris Cohen or maybe Tenniscoats by way of Carole King and Steely Dan... I'm also excited to hear the new Martin Frawley (ex-Twerps) album, out soon. Oh and Lucy Roleff & Lehmann B. Smith recently released an album of shimmering folk gems entitled Dark Green. Check it out all, Tim – I know you don't like sleeping!

….and how is the label Lost and Lonesome, doing? What releases are you excited about? We were recently involved in the posthumous release of Zac Denton's demos and unreleased recordings. Zac was a member of The Ocean Party, Ciggie Witch, Pregnancy, No Local and Hobbie Farm amongst others, and had a stack of amazing material stashed aside when he passed away suddenly and unexpectedly at the age of 24, four years ago. I was so chuffed L&L was invited along for this release – working alongside Osborne Again, Emotional Response and Spunk! on releasing the double-LP of these beautiful, unique songs. On the horizon though: the debut album from Hot Coppers – Gareth Parton's first recordings of his own music in 20+ years, for fans of B&S, The Go-Betweens, Burt Bacharach and The Charlatans); the long-awaited new Mid-State Orange album(!), the band now featuring members of The Zebras, Last Leaves and Fred Astereo; plus a few other nice surprises from folks who may have been involved with bands like The Cat's Miaow, The Cannanes and Flywheel... but I've already said too much methinks.

Cover of Mark’s previous LP from 2019

What are your top 10 desert island discs? At this very minute, let's say: Jonathan Richman 'Jonathan Sings' Television Personalities 'And Don't the Kids Just Love it' Dear Nora 'Mountain Rock' Philippe DeBarge with The Pretty Things 'Rock St Trop' Little Wings 'Light Green Leaves' Lou Reed 'Coney Island Baby' The Cannanes 'Love Affair With Nature' The Pastels 'Mobile Safari' The Ladybug Transistor 'The Albermarle Sound' The Apples in Stereo 'Tone Soul Evolution' ... and maybe one more – Sonny & The Sunsets 'Hit After Hit' ... one last quick one – The Chills 'Brave Words' ... I'm sorry!! – The Wedding Present 'Bizarro' ... gah!!!

BONUS QUESTION: Will there be another Last Leaves record? Yes! Thanks for asking, Tim. Marty Donald has written a stack of great new songs and we've been rehearsing again and getting ready to record really soon!

www.emotional-response-recs.bandcamp.com

www.lostandlonesome.com.au

youtube

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brn1029 · 2 years

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On this very day…in music history…..

September 22nd

2015 - Happy Birthday

A US District Judge ruled that the original copyright to 'Happy Birthday' was invalid and the song would now be entirely in the public domain. The copyright was obtained by the Clayton F. Summy Co. from the song's writers, sisters Mildred and Patty Hill and bought for $15 million in 1988 by Warner / Chappell Music Inc.

2011 - Queen

Research conducted by car maker SEAT found that Queen’s 'Bohemian Rhapsody' was the song most likely to be found on British iPods, with more than 40% of owners having the hit on their players. The Beatles had four songs in the list, a feat also matched by Coldplay. Other favourites included U2, The Killers and Rihanna.

2005 - Jimmy Page

Jimmy Page was made an honorary citizen of Brazilian city Rio de Janeiro for his work helping its street children. The Led Zeppelin guitarist had opened Casa Jimmy (Jimmy's House) in 1998 which had so far supported more than 300 children.

2004 - Cat Stevens

Cat Stevens, who now went by the name of Yusuf Islam, was escorted from a diverted transatlantic flight and refused entry into America by FBI agents. His name showed up on a US watch list after United Airlines Flight 919 had taken off from London. The flight landed in Maine where Islam, who was traveling with his 21-year-old daughter, was detained and questioned.

2001 - Bruce Springsteen

‘A Tribute to Heroes’ was aired commercial-free on most of the major US TV networks. The live program was organised to raise money following the terrorist attacks on the Pentagon and New York’s World Trade Center. Neil Young, Tom Petty, Paul Simon, Billy Joel, U2, Limp Bizkit, Bruce Springsteen and Pearl Jam all performed. Manning the telephones to take pledges were celebrities including Jack Nicholson, Jim Carrey, Whoopi Goldberg, Goldie Hawn, Robin Williams, Meg Ryan, Cuba Gooding Jr., Kurt Russell, Adam Sandler and many more.

1985 - Neil Young

The first Farm Aid benefit concert was held before a crowd of 80,000 people at the Memorial Stadium in Champaign, Illinois. Organized by Willie Nelson, John Mellencamp and Neil Young, the event had been spurred on by Bob Dylan's comments at Live Aid earlier in that year that he hoped some of the money would help American farmers. The star studded line-up of country stars included: Alabama, Hoyt Axton, Glen Campbell, Johnny Cash, Charlie Daniels Band, John Denver, Bob Dylan, John Fogerty, Vince Gill, Merle Haggard, Emmylou Harris, Waylon Jennings, George Jones, Kris Kristofferson, Loretta Lynn, Roger Miller, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Willie Nelson, Charley Pride, Bonnie Raitt, Kenny Rogers.

1981 - Harry Warren

American composer Harry Warren died aged 88. He wrote over 800 songs including 'I Only Have Eyes For You', (a hit for The Flamingos and Art Garfunkel), ‘You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby’, ‘Jeepers Creepers’, ‘That's Amore’ and ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo’. Warren's songs have been featured in over 300 films.

1979 - Def Leppard

Def Leppard had their first major live review when UK music weekly Melody Maker reviewed a gig the band had played in Wolverhampton. With a 15 year-old drummer the band had just released their debut 3-track single.

1973 - The Rolling Stones

The Rolling Stones scored their eighth UK No.1 album when 'Goats Head Soup' started a two-week run at the top of the charts. Also a US No.1.

1967 - The Doors

The Doors appeared on the Murray the K show on WPIX-TV in New York City performing 'People Are Strange' and 'Light My Fire.'

1965 - Grace Slick

San Francisco band The Great Society, featuring Grace Slick and her then-husband Jerry Slick on drums, made their live debut at The Coffee Gallery, North Beach, California.

1964 - Herman's Hermits

Herman's Hermits were at No.1 on the UK singles chart with the Carole King & Gerry Goffin song 'I'm Into Something Good', the group's only UK No.1.

1962 - The Springfields

The Springfields (Dusty Springfield her brother Tom and their friend, Tim Field) had 'Silver Threads and Golden Needles', enter the US Top 20 and became the first British vocal group to chart that high in America.

1958 - Elvis Presley

After receiving special permission from the US Army, Elvis Presley gave one last press conference at the Military Ocean Terminal in Brooklyn. He then joined the rest of the 3rd Armored Division on the USS General Randall for a voyage to Bremerhaven, Germany.

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atmymercy · 2 years

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Hello! How's it going? I'm here for the free reading, but I actually just have one question.

Why is V not talking to me anymore? Things were going fine, we were both very clear with out interest in eachother. Idk if she's upset, or if there's someone else, or maybe I'm just overthinking

Z ♋

hello z! it's going great! thanks for asking.

for you, i got the queen of swords, 3 of coins & the lovers.

ooh. so i'm getting that she is the queen of swords. very logical and independent. so independent that she doesn't like how you threaten her self-reliance because she does feel a true connection here. it scares her and it seems she has problems with co-operation and getting along with others. i'm hearing 'you're just my type' which has essentially scared her and like the queen of swords, she took that sword and cut you out of her life rather than deal with all the other emotions you brought along. hermit at the bottom of the deck confirms this as well. good luck!

hope you enjoyed it! please give feedback or buy me a coffee when you can! if you want to explore this further, please consider a private read as well. also thank you for sharing with me!♡

love & light!

-tea

as always, my rules & info are in my pinned post if you're interested in a reading of your own!

#tea tarot reading #tarot reading #tarot witch #tarot reader #tarot read #tarot #tarot cards

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carolinemillerbooks · 2 years

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New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/the-road-less-traveled/

The Road Less Traveled

Recently, I sat down for coffee with a woman young enough to be my granddaughter. I don’t have many acquaintances who are twenty-something, so, I was flattered to be asked to engage in conversation. Besides, I have a good deal of respect for this individual who is accomplished beyond her years. She invented her dream job, for example, then pitched it to the company where she wanted to work, and convinced them to hire her. Who wouldn’t be impressed? A writer by trade, she’s crafted a play soon to be produced, so she and I we share a love for language. Perhaps that’s why I admitted I had a bone to pick with LGBTQ folks who co-opted “they” to express gender-neutrality. “’They’ already has an important role,” I sniffed. “It represents more than one person. ” Generally, I’m flexible about language changes. I accept “Ms” as a substitute for “Miss” or “Mrs.” to obscure marital status. But “Ms” is an invented word, not one ripped from the bowels of established usage. The young woman opposite me looked sympathetic. “You can use “zie” if you like.” She tapped on the screen of her smartphone with a red-enameled fingernail and brought up the word. “How wonderful,” I exclaimed, discovering the alternative. “No more ambiguity. No more wondering about gender as I read, ‘Tobby and Denver agreed they liked Brokeback Mountain.’” My next question touched upon inclusiveness Should zie be added to the LGBTQ alphabet? Or is there a limit to the length of initialism? If not, how long could the gender alphabet grow? I wondered because I’d read an article about hermettes, a lifestyle to which I might belong. Should I insist “h” be added to the chain? Hermettes are women who avoid the traditional female roles of wife, mother, and caregiver. Though few make up this number, their lineage goes far back in history. According to Robert Rodriguez, author of The Book of Hermits, a woman’s order called the Beguines can be traced to the 12th century. Beguines were neither nuns nor affiliated with a church, and though they did good work among the citizenry, they maintained their independence. Able to own property, and conduct a business, they lived in a sisterhood from which they could exit or return whenever they chose. According to Rodriguez, they had the best of both worlds. They enjoyed the protection of an organization but lived as lay people. Eventually, the Catholic church grew tired of the Beguines’ independence and charged them with heresy. In any epoch, for a woman to lead a liberated life is difficult. As a modern hermette points out, “…there are biological, hormonal elements, and cultural conditions that make it harder for women to be selfish about their time.” Some have felt so apologetic for their independence, they’ve consulted therapists. Even so, a small number of women do escape the mold. Enough of them exist to have formed loose associations through the internet. They even publish a magazine. The lifestyles among hermettes vary. Some have partners, men or women, but they do not cohabitate. Solitude and privacy are critical to their contemplative existence. When they need company, they reach out for it. When they don’t, they disconnect from Facebook. During the childbearing years, some may question their lifestyle, but those who break with society’s expectations seem to lead a happy existence. “Should an “h” be added to the list of alternative lifestyles? I confess I am indifferent to the answer to my question. Recognition isn’t necessary. Should I feel a longing for inclusion, I’ll buy a subscription to Hermette Magazine.

#they #as gender neutral #Beguines #Hermette Magazine #Hermettes #LGBTQ #Robert Rodriguez #The Book of Hermits #zie

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

Band-Aids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes, But Your Kisses Do

summary: in a standoff with an unsub, reader makes a choice: her life or spencer’s.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

category: angst/fluff at the end

warnings/includes: canon typical case violence, based off of episode “haunted” so spoilers, guns/gun violence, hospitals, kissing, mentions of hotch’s stabbing

word count: 3437

author’s note: i wrote this one a while ago and thought i’d share it. if anyone wants to be tagged, i’m going to figure it out and i’ll add you to a tag list!!

Band-Aids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes, But Your Kisses Do

The two agents that sat on swivel chairs facing each other fake arguing about an episode of Dr. Who. Spencer had his legs straight out, resting on Y/N’s lap comfortably. She leaned forward and placed her chin on her hand as she explained to Spencer her thoughts on the episode.

“Spencer, you cannot tell me that you don't think David Tennant is hot! I watched the episode with you and I can tell you are-"

“I’m not going to argue against that, Y/N. David Tennant is,” Spencer started as he fiddled with the lollipop that Garcia handed him when he and Y/N walked into the bullpen.

“Is what, Spence?” A teasing look graced her face as Spencer’s blush grew down his exposed neck and collarbone.

“He’s hot, okay Y/N is that what you want me to say!” Spencer’s voice rose a couple octaves from his admission over his not-so-subtle-crush on The Doctor.

“That’s exactly what I wanted you to say, Spencer. Least I know we have the same type” She said with a wink.

“You got a type, Y/N?” Derek called from the doorway of the conference room.

“Yeah, hot doctors with brown hair” Emily said without missing a beat. She had walked in behind Derek, the pair of them discussing her annual Sin-to-Win Weekend in Atlantic City.

“But they, you know, have to be like Time Lords, or whatever” She said in efforts to cover up her growing discomfort.

She turned her attention back to Reid, who was in the process of trying to remove his leg from her warm lap. He did not want to give Derek anymore ammunition to make sly jokes at his not-so-subtle-crush on his best friend/co-worker. Secretly, he wanted to keep his leg there, against her soft thigh and maybe she’d drop her hands on his leg in a comforting gesture of….friendship.

Garcia placed a tin decorated with white and orange cats dressed in bonnets on the table just within reach of Hotch’s usual spot near the monitor. Reid reached forward to open the tin, which he deduced was filled with Penelope’s infamous snickerdoodle cookies. Unfortunately, before the genius profiler could reach the gaudy tin, Penelope swatted his hand away from grasping the cookies.

“Hey! Those are for Hotch” Penelope shouted as she grabbed the tin and moved them closer to Hotch’s chair.

“What? You know I love cookies, Garcia. Come on, Hotch hates attention”

“I just made some cookies, it’s not like I made him a cake.” Penelope argued as Derek and Emily both quietly eyed the cookies.

“Spence, we’ll make cookies tonight. It looks like it’s just a paperwork day” Y/N said with a slight smile, that, in turn, elicited a big grin from an unsuspecting Spencer.

“Anyway,” Derek started as he chose to ignore the interaction that unfolded before him “we all know he’s going to act like nothing happened” he remarked as he fingered through the dozen case files spread out before him on the table.

“Doesn’t mean we have to,” Penelope said sadly as she looked down at the cat cookie tin.

“Maybe we should,” Reid said quietly to his co-workers.

“But, I’m not built like that!” said Penelope.

“Hotch is though, Penny,” Y/N noted as she snuck a cookie while Penelope’s back was turned. She broke it in half and handed it to Spencer under the table. He winked at her as she shushed him.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Spencer said with a mouthful of cookie, “Hotch never blinks” he finished with a large swig of lukewarm, sugared coffee.

“Classic Alpha Male” Spencer said, looking towards Derek.

“Do you think he stared down Foyet...you know while it happened?” Emily questioned. She was usually the one who could stomach all these, but when it came to the team, she was as nervous as the lot of them.

“It’s probably what saved his life,” Derek said somberly.

“He can’t be okay,” Penelope said with a whisper.

“I wouldn’t be,” Spencer said with an air of uncertainty, “I’m a blinker”

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There was an uncomfortable silence during the ride to Louisville. Hotch was more sullen than usual, but, thankfully, Garcia broke the tension with her reports via computer screen.

“Our point in Louisville is Lieutenant Kevin Mitchell, my contacts don’t report any more attacks related to this unsub” JJ relayed. She sat next to Derek, who was across from Hotch and Rossi. Emily sat criss cross on the table across from the foursome. On the small jet couch, Spencer and Y/N played a game of chess as they listened to the initial reports JJ received from the local PD.

“Call’s proving hard to track. He never had a driver’s license, so he’s probably still on foot,” Spencer mumbled without removing his eyes from the chessboard.

“Or public transportation,” Y/N added as she cringed when Spencer announced “check”.

“Well, he’s not going to get anywhere too far with his face all over the news,” Emily continued.

“So, what do we think the stressor is,” Rossi nodded.

“He just lost his job. Worked in a factory since 1990. He made appliances forever. Not a single promotion” Garcia’s voice came across a little staticky.

“That’s a long time to be bitter,” Derek posed.

“Or he just doesn’t care,” Reid countered.

“According, to what you sent over Garcia, he kind of seems like a hermit. Far as I can tell he’s got no one. No wife, no children, no parents.” Y/N added with a sad tone in her voice.

With a sharp tone, Hotch added “then why didn’t he kill himself?”

“He’s not finished killing yet,” Reid continued the thought, “check mate!”

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It was at times like these that it seemed like the case drags on forever. Call had kidnapped a little boy, who, Spencer had figured out was Call’s biological son. The local PD was getting them nowhere. Those overly macho cops seemed to be having a difficult time taking orders from JJ. Y/N watched as she marched over to Mitchell and demanded that he give a press conference.

Y/N chuckled quietly to herself as she watched the interaction. JJ was a force to be reckoned with, especially when the life of an innocent child was at stake. That cop had no idea who he was challenging.

“Hey, Y/N,” Spencer called from his spot in front of the whiteboard. It was decorated with a combination of their messy, rushed handwriting. Spencer grasped his blue marker and looked at Y/N with a painful expression.

“I’m not getting anywhere with this geographical profile,” Spencer’s somber tone flooded Y/N’s emotions with an overwhelming sense to comfort him.

“Spencer, put the marker down and look at me, please, for a second.” He obliged as he turned to face her.

Y/N reached up on her tiptoes to gently rub her hands along the base of Spencer’s neck. He could feel the tension melt away. Spencer was not one for physical affection, but he realized that he, in fact, craved the soft touches of people he trusted. Whether it was a brotherly pat on the back from Morgan, a playful high five from Garcia, a proud fist bump from Hotch, Spencer had grown to seek out affection.

“Y/N,” he said. His voice but a whisper in the loud, hectic bullpen.

“Shh,” She could sooth his worries just with a graze of her hands across his neck. It was magic to a scientist. Her magical presence set him on fire.

“Hey, we can do this, Spence, all of us, but we need you,” Y/N voice mirrored his own. A hushed whisper that fueled the flames of his love.

Instead of kissing her forehead or even hugging her, all Spencer could make out was a small thank you, before, like the wind, she was gone to see if Garica had any updates on the missing boy.

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In a frantic hour, Garcia had discovered a possible location of Tommy and his father, Darrin. Like most the unsubs, they were children of tragedy. Children of abusive homes and of deep rooted violence. It was up to the team, as they raced down the street in their crowded SUVs, to stop the cycle of violence for claiming another innocent child.

“Hotch, you are on speaker,” Emily called from the passenger seat of the car as Derek sped down the warehouse where they suspected Tommy to be held.

“Do not go in there without SWAT, do you all here me?” Hotch said sternly.

“That means you, Derek, don’t go in there till backup gets there,” JJ added from the phone that Emily held.

“You got it, boss man,” Derek made a sharp turn that led Y/N to nearly fall into Spencer, who sat next to her.

“Spencer! Where is your vest!?” Y/N asked him impatiently, with a tinge of nervousness and fear laced in her tone.

“Y/N, Call doesn’t have a gun, he’s been using weapons of opportunity. The profile points to him not even being armed right now. If anything-”

“Screw the profile, Spencer!” Y/N’s voice was hysterical now. “You need to where a damn vest, you are an FBI agent, if you get-”

Y/N’s rant to Spencer was stopped short by the disturbing sight before her. From the SUV the four of them could see an even more distraught Call standing out in the middle of the warehouse parking lot. He held Tommy by the neck, with a gun pointed at his temple. Derek stopped the car and jumped out, his gun wielded as he began to try to talk the man down.

“Call, drop the weapon and release Tommy, right now!” Derek’s voice loomed large and powerful as Emily, Reid, and Y/N each got out of the vehicle and turned their spots with Morgan.

“You don’t want to hurt Tommy,” Spencer started. “we know who he is to you, we know that he’s your son, and that you weren’t there for him.” He put his gun away in an attempt to show Call that he was not a threat. Y/N could read the desperation in Spencer’s voice from a mile away. Call, like Spencer’s mom lives with schizophrenia. Spencer and Hotch nearly had it out in the middle of the bullpen after Spencer insinuated that Hotch was implying that Call was only going on this murder spree because of his condition.

“Just let the boy go, Call.” Y/N continued the track that Derek and Spencer started. “Just let your son go. We will make sure that you can get medicine, that’s why you went to the pharmacy, right? You need meds to help yourself and then,-”

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Spencer inching closer and closer to Tommy. As if it was a chain reaction, Call drew his weapon and fired towards Spencer. Before she even could realize the consequences of her actions, Y/N tackled Spencer to the ground. The bullet lodged itself into the Kevlar vest she wore. Her side burned as she came to understand what had transpired in the last couple of seconds.

Spencer scrambled onto his knees and clutched Y/N’s cold hands in his.

“Spence, I’m okay,” Y/N said as she struggled to sit up straight with Spencer practically laying on top of her.

“No, Y/N! Don’t do that,” Spencer started with tears flooding the corners of his eyes. The little droplets made his sometimes brown and sometimes green eyes sparkle with sadness.

Spencer moved his hands from the place where the bullet lodged itself in her Kevlar to grasp her face tenderly. But his movement caused her cheek to be painted with a deep red handprint in the shape of the crying man crouching before her hand.

“Spencer,” she let out a small whimper when she saw the look of horror on his face. Before he could even ask her why she did what she did, Y/N passed out, her limp, cold hand finding its home in the comfort of soft, warm ones.

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

The rest of the case passed in a numbing hum for Spencer. Once Y/N got shot by Call he let go of Tommy and Derek shot him the leg. Spencer did not even stay for when Emily and Derek apprehended the unsub. It was like his legs acted of their own accord when the EMT showed up for Y/N and he walked with them never letting go of her hand.

The ride to the hospital in the back of the ambulance was hectic. The EMTs had to monitor her heart rate, her blood pressure, and her oxygen. Even the temptation of numbers could not capture Spencer’s attention as he mulled over the possible conclusions to why Y/N would take a bullet for him. There was no logical reason for it. Not one. Spencer let the steady rocking of the ambulance to soothe him as he gently rubbed his thumb over Y/N’s hand. Even though he longed to hold her against himself, this would have to do, for now at least. Till then, Spencer forced his mind to focus on the pattern that her beating heart created.

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Hospitals terrified Spencer. The smell, the sick people, the people who were unsavable. Part of him wonders what his life would be like if he became a medical doctor. As a kid, he had a future where he could do anything he could dream of. Cure schizophrenia on Monday, operate on an inoperable tumor on Tuesday- that’s what his life could have been like.

But sitting there, in the sterile hospital with the white walls and constant beeping, Spencer’s mind was only thinking of another life he could be out living. In the minutes that he sat with Y/N as she lay in pain in his arm, false memories of a life together painted in his mind. Laughing children, family picnics, couple’s Halloween costumes. He stroked her hair and saw a life so familiar that he could almost taste it. He tasted cookies that they baked together as they danced without a care in the world. He tasted Halloween and Forth of July and all the holidays in between. He tasted butterfly kisses with his children that had her hair and her eyes and her smile.

He was stripped away from those memories that he didn’t even own. Now all he could taste was the bitterness of regret, the sourness of what if, and the tartness of the nightmares masquerading as reality.

“Family of Y/L/N,” a surgeon dressed in light blue scrubs walked into the waiting area with an unreadable expression on her face.

JJ and Derek stood up immediately as the doctor went to continue to deliver the news.

“She’s awake and doing okay,” the doctor said with a relieved expression.

“Oh that goodness,” JJ said as she hugged Emily in a moment of happiness.

“She’s a fighter,” Derek quipped, “I’m going to call Garcia, she’s probably a nervous wreck”

“She’ll make a full recovery, but should avoid air travel because her internal bleeding,” the doctor reported, “also, which one of you is Spencer? Even since she’d been lucid, she’s been asking for you,” she said looking around at the remaining group, with her eyes landing on the man in question.

“She is?” Spencer questioned carefully. He was worried that maybe she regretted jumping in front of him.

“Yes, why don’t you come with me. It may make her more comfortable having someone she wants with her”

Y/N wants him.

Him.

Spencer was not sure how he even walked himself down the corridor to where Y/N’s room was located. But sure enough, he was met with her ashen face beaming up at his.

“Y/N! Oh my goodness, are you okay, I mean, obviously you’re injured so you’re not okay. I don’t mean to invalidate your pain, I just...why, Y/N, why on Earth would you do that?” Spencer finished. His voice was more tender towards the end. He looked down at his friend before him and tried to read the expression that graced her face.

“Spencer, I did what I had to do. You….you would have died,” Spencer noticed the tears that puddled in her eyes and had to suppress the sudden urge to kiss them away.

“I’d rather die than live my life in a world without you, Spencer.”

Spencer closed his eyes and sat down on the bed with her.

“Why?” he asked in a voice that was hardly audible. It can’t be, he thought. Maybe this is just something that a teammate does for another teammate. Comrades in arms or something like that, he thought. Trying to make sense of senselessness.

“Why do you value my life more than yours? Why-how can you do that” there was not stopping tears in his eyes now. She reached out and held his face, like he held her as she bled out in the warehouse only a couple of hours ago.

“Spence, my life would be dull and gray without you in it. You’re my best-” She stared as he tensed up at what he knew was coming. She only jumped in front of him because it’s what a teammate does.

“Please, I can't bear to hear that. I-maybe you only can think of me as a teammate or worse a brother, but part of me. A hopeful and romantic part of me that I can't let go of the thought of you thinking about in a different way,” he was so embarrassed, so raw in the moment that he could not bear to even look her in the eyes.

“Spencer?” he could only watch the way that their fingers laced together. He focused on the patterns between the itchy hospital blanket.

“Y/N,” he started and took a deep breath. Spencer had never intended to tell her this. Maybe in moments of drunken bravery he thought about it, but he’d always sober up before his dreams could come to fruition.

“I’m a logical man, I solve problems for a living but sometimes. Sometimes, I can’t use logic to solve some problems, and there’s no logical reason for you to jump in front of a bullet for me. Unless you love me? And I hope with every fiber of being that you do, because I am so desperately in love with you”

Spencer allowed himself, for the first in his life, to have once of hope and faith.

Y/N’s eyes met Spencer’s in an uncharacteristically shy moment.

“I do, Spence. Of course I love you”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh as he, once again, gently placed his hands on her jaw. He placed a kiss on her forehead. The small, tender affection elicited a whimper from Y/N. Spencer jumped back in horror.

“Oh, honey did I hurt you? You gotta tell me where it hurts” he murmured in a comforting voice.

“Hmm, no I’ve just been waiting five years for you to kiss me and you settle on my forehead?” Y/N beamed up at him expectantly.

“Nowhere do you want me to kiss you, my dear?” Spencer questioned playfully.

“How about in between everywhere and anywhere you want, Doctor Reid,” Y/N, despite the pain, managed a smile for the man that held her hand so lovingly.

“How about here?” Spencer leaned forward and kissed the left corner of her mouth.

“Or here?” The right corner.

“What about here, I’ve dreamed of kissing you here.” He moved his mouth to meet the place on her neck that met her collarbone. Y/N looked up at Spencer dreamily. One day she might chalk it up to the painkillers flooding through her system, but the pure adoration that melted from Spencer’s lips to her skin was something that never knew she’d crave.

“And here”

His lips parted slightly as he moved in to meet hers. The feeling was more divine and earth shattering than when Prometheus gave humans fire. Together, intertwined in bedsheets, IVs, and fingers laced with hair, they lit a fire of their own. Kissing Spencer stopped time.

It was Y/N who broke first.

“Spencer,” she said with a new reverence that would only be reserved for him.

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“You gotta promise me something,” she said as she raked her hands across his arms, feeling him shudder under her touch.

“Anything and everything for you” he said, mirroring her earlier words to him.

“Wear a vest next time”

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