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hahahahahangst · 1 year

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10 Things I hate about you (Be The Young 29)

GIANT TW which will be valid for each episode for suicidal thoughts, SELF H*RM, violence, cursing, relatives dying, mentions of s*x, s*xual assault

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will break canon (mostly from the S2 finale) but will try to get back into it for the sake of ✨ lore ✨ .

Summary: Emily Reed, born and raised in Portland, is preparing her admission papers for Stanford, medical school. Little does she know, her life is about to change forever.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

A/N: idk guys, call it the musical episode, it kind of is

MASTERLIST

10 things I hate about you

Sometimes I miss when we were in it

So I made a list so I never forget

All the things I hate about you

10, your selfish

“So, did the angels bring you back in time? Was it Castiel?” Asked Emily, hanging out in the back of the Impala, skimming through a book. They were traveling towards Missouri to help another hunter with a case.

“Yeah, I saw my parents and my grandparents.” Dean had just finished talking about how Castiel brought him back in time to explain to him what Azazel wanted from them. Of course Ramiel had not lost the chance of bringing Emily back as well.

“What did you see?” Asked Dean, not taking his eyes away from the road.

“You really want to know?” Emily scratched her nose.

“I’m actually kind of curious. Is dad involved?”

“Oh- trust me. He is.”

“So?”

Emily started telling her brothers how her whole story began. “Basically, my mom got pregnant with me out of revenge and spite.” She said. “She had a wonderful husband, caring, and they were perfectly normal. Her hunting life was behind her, for good. But there was just one problem.” Emily pretended to be the narrator of a movie and gestured in front of her mysteriously, leaning in between the front seats. “A problem that would change her life…“ She paused. “FOREVER!” She screamed and Dean and Sam smiled, clearly enjoying her scene. “That problem was… me, or better, the lack of me. She really wanted a child, but could not get pregnant.”

“Wait, how did she go from no kids to two kids?” Asked Sam, interrupting her imitation.

“Samuel, too much rush, you feel.” She suddenly switched to Yoda from Star Wars. “Shutting the fuck up, you must.” She cleared her voice and went back to talking suggestively. Sam seemed very amused. “I was saying… She could not get pregnant and so, desperate, she summoned a crossroad demon, expecting a normal deal. Ten years were more than enough for her to disappear and never be found again by him. Or at least, that’s what she thought.” She paused and looked at Sam and Dean, waiting for a sign of approval of her performance. Dean gestured to her to keep going. “HOWEVER!” She said, a little too loud for the size of the car. “The demon did not offer her ten years. He asked for her permission to come back to her house. He promised that nothing wrong was going to happen if she let him be. He did not specify how many times, and my mother didn’t ask.” She made another pause. “So, her wish was granted, but it was too late. When she came back home, she saw something nobody would ever want to see! Can you guess what it was?” She pointed to Dean, who shrugged. Sam, instead played her game and tried to guess: “Her husband was dead?”

“No.”

“Her husband was a shapeshifter?”

“No!”

“He was… a demon?”

“What?!” Laughed Emily.

“Ghost?”

“Absolutely not-” She tried to continue explaining but could not contain her laugh anymore. ”...no, no, she found him with another woman!” Emily finally explained.

“Ouch!” Finally Dean intervened. “That's not good.”

“Oh, and that's nothing.” Continued Emily. “My mother followed them for the rest of the night and found out he had a whole other family with this woman, who was, coincidentally, pregnant again. So all her work was in vain, as her marriage was destroyed.”

“So…“ Sam encouraged her to keep telling.

“So!” She snapped her fingers in front of him. “This is where John Winchester comes in. My mother was enraged, vengeful. So she went out for a drink. Or many. She met dad and my mother found out he was a hunter. They exchanged opinions and theories about a local case and kept seeing each other for a while. Apparently my mother had more experience than dad, who had just been hunting for a couple years. They liked each other, they slept together and-” Emily pointed at herself. “Nine months later I popped out of her.” She stopped suggestively gesturing in front of her face and went back to her normal voice. “When I was six months old Azazel came to turn me, and my mother let him be, as they had agreed, but when he came for Alex she had probably forgotten or thought she could fight him aaaand, that’s how I ended up here.”

“Did you really have to make it so dramatic?” Asked Dean.

9, you’re jaded

“Shut up, you loved it.” She smiled. Sam seemed pretty amused.

“What about the demon blood?” Asked Dean, curious. “I'm guessing you got your healthy dose?”

“Oh, I wish I could tell you it was just one dose. Son of bitch gave me a whole bottle. I don't think my mother ever knew something like that had happened.”

“Well, that explains a lot of things.” He sighed. “Including what he meant when he said you were in a control group.”

“I'm a demon guinea pig. Very fun experience.” She said, sarcastic.

Sam looked at her through the rearview mirror, but didn't say anything. Emily raised her eyebrows and he immediately looked away.

You alright? She asked Sam, telepathically.

Yeah- just figured out what Ruby meant when she said you could have helped

Yeah, about that, sorry I snitched

It's alright, it was probably for the best

They quickly smiled at each other and then Emily leaned back in the seat.

Can I say something else? Sam's voice reached Emily.

Of course.

In the last two years… didn't you and Dean figure out yet how to get along? Really?

We tried- did he not tell you about what happened while you were away?

He's been very secretive about it.

Emily quickly gazed at Dean. Figures.

What do you mean?

“You guys talking about me or something?” Dean's voice distracted Emily from her mental conversation with Sam.

“What makes you think that?” Asked Sam.

“Emily keeps moving her hands as if she was talking and you keep staring at me.”

Emily and Sam exchanged a quick gaze before the younger just gave out a deep sigh and confessed. “Did you not tell Sam about what happened after he died?” To those words, Dean peeled his eyes away from the street and looked back at Emily for a second. Then, his gaze went harder and he went back at staring an indefinite point in front of him.

8, the dumbest guy I dated

“Can we not talk about it?” He asked.

“Dean, we have to talk about it. It doesn't have to be now, but at one point we-”

“Who says that?” He interrupted. “Who says we have to talk about it?”

“I do!” Snapped Emily. “I don't even understand why you would hide it!”

7 talk a big name, ‘til you’re naked

“I don't exactly come out of that story looking good, you know.” He pointed at himself.

“Ah, sorry- didn't mean to destroy your reputation with your own brother!” She said, sarcastic.

“Sure, whatever you say.” He tried to dismiss her, but Emily had other plans

“Whatev-” She was about to go at him with bad words, but Sam started talking.

“Wait, Emily, wait.” He raised his hand to stop her. She rolled her eyes. “What could ever be so bad you don't want to tell me?”

Dean glared at Emily again. She sighed and leaned back in her seat. She quickly gestured at Sam that they would talk later and went back to looking out the window.

only 6 seconds and I had to fake it

But Sam deserved the truth. Emily knew she had to tell him.

Halfway to Missouri they stopped to rest and to eat. Sam and Emily went inside a supermarket to get some food while Dean drove away to get gas.

“You should try a salad for once. Who knows, maybe you’ll discover you like it.” Commented Sam, pointing to a pre-packaged salad similar to the one he was about to buy. Emily took it and read the label. “It actually doesn’t sound that bad.” She looked back at the sandwich she was still holding. She shrugged and put the sandwich back on the shelf and exchanged it for the salad. “You have a terrible influence on me.” She commented. Sam laughed.

“What should we get Dean?” He continued, skimming through the shelf.

“A whole bottle of ranch dressing? I’m sure he’d like it.”

“Let’s get him this.” He pulled out a turkey sandwich.

Dean was waiting for them outside the shop, impatient. They started eating while sitting on a bench. “What is that?” Dean pointed to Emily’s salad. “Since when do you eat rabbit food?”

“It’s good! Want some?” She offered him a fork full of vegetables with a smile. He refused with a disgusted grimace. “Your loss, dude.” She shrugged and turned to Sam: he was staring in front of him, lost in his thoughts.

“Hey, earth calling Sam!” Emily waved a hand in front of him. “Are you okay?” Sam seemed raised from his trance-like state.

“Yeah, sorry, just-” He paused a second to look at him and Emily, who gestured to him to keep talkin. “Nothing, it's all good.”

“Are you sure?”

Sam hesitated for a second before answering. “It’s just I noticed something and-”

“What is it, Sam?” Intervened Dean. From Sam’s gaze Emily knew that whatever he was about to say, they would not have liked it. “So, Emily, how come everytime you interact with Dean you feel a- like rush of adrenaline?”

“A what?” She scratched her nose, confused.

“I don’t know, at the beginning I just thought it was a coincidence, but it’s every single time you talk to each other.”

Emily glared over at Dean and exhaled. She didn't answer and kept eating.

“Guys, what-”

“Alright, Sam, I know where you’re trying to go and we are not going there.” Intervened Dean. “This is not the time to talk about what happened while you were dead, okay? Drop it.”

Emily kept staring in front of them, thinking that if she ignored them, eventually they had to stop fighting.

“Why?” Asked Sam. “What the hell must have happened to make it so hard to talk about?”

“Nothing, I- I just don't want to talk about it, okay?” Emily closed her eyes, quickly running our of patience.

“I'm your brother, there's nothing you can't talk to me about, you-”

“I know that, but I still don't want to-”

“SHUT UP!” Screamed Emily, covering her face with her hands. She combed her hair back. Both her brothers quickly closed their mouths. “This is not a decision you get to make alone!” She pointed to Dean. “There were two of us living in that mess and I say he has to know!”

“So what, so he can worry about me? About you? Come on, it's just gonna bring more problems!” He answered. Emily could feel words she was going to regret slowly taking place in the back of her brain, but she was not fast enough to stop herself.

“Is that what this is about?! You don't want Sam to know how messed up you are?” She stood up and placed her lunch on the bench.

“What did you just say?”

“I said you’re messed up!” She yelled. Dean stood up in front of her. “What are you gonna do, uh?! Are you going to punch me?” Emily looked at Dean and raised her eyebrows, challenging him. “It can't hurt more than it used to hurt when you were blacked out drunk, can it?” After looking at Emily for a second, clearly angry, Dean sighed, rolled his eyes and turned the opposite way. Emily glared at Sam, who seemed shocked. “Right, turn around. Keep running from your problems, see how they solve themselves.”

Dean sharply turned back facing Emily. “You're talking about running?” Seeing the situation was not defusing itself, Sam stood up as well.

5, you're toxic

“Don't you get started again with-” Emily tried to say, but Dean cut her short.

“You left when I needed you the most! So don't come here judging me about running from my problems!”

“I left? Really?!”

“Well, it wasn’t me who walked out of Bobby’s house on a random Tuesday morning!”

“On a random morning? What are you even talking about? I was forced to leave!”

“You didn’t even try to stay!”

“I tried for MONTHS! I was there for you even when you tried to push me away, I listened to you cry and I let you punch the shit out of me and-” He words were interrupted by a sob Emily had not seen coming. “I- I tried to understand you, okay? I tried to get behind the violence and the being drunk, but I could not be there anymore, it was- Dean it was fucking dangerous!” Emily tried to send away the tears who were about to erupt from her eyes. She sniffed.

4, can’t trust you

“And has it ever occurred to you that I needed someone too? That, for your fault, I had to deal with everything by myself?” Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t get to tell me that I didn’t try!”

“You were not a saint either, you know? Or did you forget what happened after he died?” Dean pointed at Sam.

“Do you mean when I was about to kill myself because of you or when you were about to kill yourself by selling your soul?” She asked, bitter.

“You know what I'm talking about!”

“Yeah, sure, I'm sure just talking about it would have worked just fine, right? You were going to kill yourself, for god's sake!”

“You can't point all the faults on me!” Continued Dean. “Do you ever accept any responsibility?”

“I don't accept responsibility?” Scoffed Emily. “I spent months of my life thinking of you, you and only you, if you had eaten, if you were too drunk, how to stop you from drinking- What did you want me to do, spoon-feed you?”

3, you still got mommy issues

“I didn’t need you to play mom with me, I can take care of myself!”

“And it shows!” Emily said, sarcastic. “Of course! You always have it under control, don't you? Tell, me did you have it under control while you used me like a punch bag or-”

“Stop bringing it up!”

2 years of bullshit I can't undo

Emily took a deep breath, trying to recollect herself. She knew far too well that Dean and her trying to get out of a fight was almost impossible if none of them backed out.

“Alright, you know what…“ She exhaled, calmer. “You're right. As I said, there were two of us, it's not your fault, it's…“ She glared at Sam, who was standing in the middle of the siblings. “We screwed up. We both did. But you can't pretend it didn't happen.”

1, I hate the fact you made me love you.

#be the young #supernatural fanfiction #spn ff #supernatural sister fic #spn #spn fanfic #ao3 #supernatural a03 fanfict #sister fic

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spikeinthepunch · 11 months

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what are the more specific things if you dont have ADHD then? hope thats ok to ask!

yes thats fine, i kinda intended to imply it in my post but forgot! i basically didnt want to trauma dump in relation to the emotion and trauma focused part of the test, obvs that was faaar more detailed and personal.

but yes for the learning part. basically everything was on a scale. memory (includes long term, short term, immediate etc), math, reading comp, listening comp, speed processing (and i feel like a few more but they scored average so). i cant recal the exact numbers where so take it loosely-- the scale was 1-100 with 35-65 being average (tests done on many people that add up to the expected results for people my age). above 65 being above average and of course below 35 is below average.

my only above average result was speed processing as i think i mentioned. it was kind of around ~85? cool, i enjoyed those tests the most lol they were fun puzzle i did at quick as possible. some other normal stuff, no big deal. i think i mentioned it too but the big ones that impact all my learning are memory, read and listening comprehension, and math (yes its just math on its own) where the bad ones. I am talking like scored 2-6 on all four- with math being the lowest one.

which were tested through a series of memory tests (looking at shapes and drawing them when the image is taken away, redrawing that again after two more tests w no ref, recounting that image again after a few more tests and drawing it. recounting back information i hear or see. things like that- which overlap w the others at times) reading related tests (reading out loud, reading and recounting information, reading and answering questions, etc), listening tests (listening to speech and repeating it outloud, stating definitions of words after the word is said, listening to stories and recounting information/details, etc) and math expected work you'd see in school (starting at the lowest levels like addition/subtraction/multiplication/division, word problems- seeing how far you can go (i did not go far lmao)).

so, with that in mind. the learning disability diagnosis is not specific (i am not done testing too!!) right now so i cant explain that by label other than pointing at the above lol. if you have been a reader of my posts you may recall how much i fuck up my typing and sentences. this doesnt fit the criteria for dsylexia or dsygraphia shockingly- i have a bundle of symptoms from both, but with very serious memory issues, it just doesnt actually end up being enough of a focus on those issues to make it that. but i definitely have dyscalculia lol!

#Anonymous #OOPS LONG POST AGAIN

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taki118 · 2 years

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SuyaLight Master Post 1

I really like these two there’s not a lot of content for the fandom as a whole soooo her’s my submission as I get every moment of these two royals who literally share a braincell (and I love them for it) First up this is just on the manga if you are anime only its going to have stuff you havent seen yes even with what the anime covers (so read it) and there will be spoilers so beware. If you prefer Demon Monk/Cleric/Leo (which I don’t really get) I am sorry this isnt for you. Lets go!

So this is their first real interaction of the series. Up until this point Twilight has only seen her asleep and Suya only vaguely knows who he is. Right now she is looking for a demon to push pressure points on her back to induce sleep.

Seeing he fits the bill for the sort of hands that could do just that she drags him off to her dungeon cell...room its just her room thats what I’ll call it cause thats what it is, anyway he’s very confused but gets dragged anyway

Suya has a problem with how she phrases things (and this won’t be the last time) Twilight is so cute though he has only the vaguest idea of what she could possibly be asking of him and goes for it.

Not only does he look foolish to himself but others see. Not the best first impression.

But no one else can really say anything cause they all got confused in the same way.

So Suya is going around basically rating others beds and she just casually hops into Twilights as he sleeps.

She notes that his is very comfortable the highest rating thus far, and Twilight is woken with a shock.

He wants her out of room obviously but she just starts messing with his things one of which is a picture of him as a kid he very much doesnt want her seeing.

Not that she had any intent to anyway preferring the high quality drink instead.

As she continues to take things he tries to get her to explain herself and leave when Leo shows up.

Suya explains why she’s there very poorly and leaves with Twilights things back to her room. And this is a recurring gag between the three Suya does something that puts Twilight in a bad situation and Leo assuming the worst (cause his mind is almost always in the gutter) assaults Twilight. The funny part of course is that Twilight is so much more innocent than Leo.

So Suya has sleep paralysis and the teddy’s don’t know what to do, after doing some weird things to her Twilight shows up, Suya has high hopes that he will be able to actually help her

She is proven wrong as one of his subordinates makes a stupid suggestion and Twilight has a problem with saying no and second guessing himself (also he probably just wanted the kiss her)

This would be cute if it weren’t for the outfit and her death glare, he’s so nervous he’s literally shaking.

The desire to not have this forced upon her makes the paralysis go away. Now those against the ship might say this proves how much she doesn’t like him but I can make an argument that its more likely has to do with some princess rule about “No kissing before your married” that she takes too seriously as she’s prone to do. Also less likely but she could be touch adverse or does not like not being in control. I’m just saying her rejecting one kiss at the start of the series does not throw him out of the runnings

But Twilight is hurt in a lot of way probably just overall embarrassment. And again Suya’s statement to Leo could be taken as fans of the pair as her preference to him but its very obvious she means it in a practical sense as he’s a healer.

Suya always likes to take advantage of others for her own convience.

After confusing everyone in the castle cause she was told as a child never to mention her underwear Twilight and Leo come to check and see what she was hiding.

Suya is genuinely excited and Twilight feels really bad in tricking her.

Proof that Twilight is just as much of an airhead and Suya (they’re made for each other haha)

Twilight does constantly think he and Suya are similiar in their roles as royals but over time she keeps proving him wrong or under cutting his concern. His dry remark of a “little” kinda shows how he’s started to read her questioning just what a “Little” means to her.

Twilight collapses from exhaustion due to overwork but he can’t fall asleep because his mind is too anxious due to Suya and the hero causing him problems, as well as his normal personal aniexties.

At first she considers just killing him and properly escaping indicating that part of her does want to return home, and she hasn’t really become fond of the demons yet. But Teddy stops her by explaining that his he dies the castle goes down too thus probably killing her but definitely destroying her things.

So Suya tries to help Twilight fall asleep.

It does not go great.

In a roundabout way you can kinda see how Suya thought she might be helping. She doesn’t know much about demons and how they are and aren’t different from humans and these are things she has kinda done to herself.

Twilight is pretty good at understanding Suya I think Hypnos, Cursed Muscian/Dentist and the Scissor demon are probably a bit better than him but not by much.

In the same vein Suya is pretty good at understanding him, picking up on him briefly calling for his father and hearing how he can’t give up as his father never would (Twilights insecurities are just too real), and recognizing he must be very close to him as she is to her mother.

Taking advice her mother once gave her she tries to sooth Twilight.

Probably giving the first positive reinforcement he’s had in a while. He’s so embaressed though he can’t process it.

Eventually the two fall asleep rather adorably. Except for the fact that Twilight is found tied up sleeping next to Suya and they start thinking he’s into S&M. But Imma end this on a cute note. This stuff was all covered by the anime so far, I’m continue in part 2 later.

#sleepy princess #sleepy princess in the demon castle #suyalight #manga #demon king twilight #Maou-jou de Oyasumi #maoujou de oyasumi #Aurora Sya Lis Goodereste #princess suya

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strawberrymilkgeorge · 3 years

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Part Five. "You guys gossip about boys without me?"

warnings: swearing, mentions of emotional abusive/manipulation word count: 3.2k (not including pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

Y/n dropped her phone on the bed and slowly rolled off and onto the ground with a soft THUD. She grunted, falling harder than she expected but the dull pain now present in her right shoulder felt deserved somehow. Why did she think she deserved it? Maybe because she was an unconfrontational worm even when the person needed to be confronted because he hurt her more than anyone ever had.

She closed her eyes and wiggled to get comfortable on the thin carpet in her room. Laying on the ground was relaxing to her, forcing her gamer back to straighten to how it was intended. It helped her think, being on the floor. She didn't know why but she didn't question it. Just laid on the floor in acceptance with the dirt and forgotten candy wrappers.

Why didn't she want to respond to Peter? Well, years of being with him and even the months of not being with him had taught her that her ex liked to get his way and liked to take his anger out in her verbally when he didn't.

You could say she's heard some terrible things over very simple inconveniences.

Y/n slowly pattered to her desk and slid on her headphones, finding the discord server Dream said he and George were on. It was a server that a lot of their friends were in, one that Y/n hardly went in since she still hadn't met a lot of them and wasn't super comfortable with talking in it yet.

She scrolled through the various text chats, one for boredom, one for stream questions, one for memes, one for pictures of pets, one for.... discussing the inevitable takeover of rats...? Y/n wasn't sure what that was about but she knew she didn't want to find out. The list went on. She was pretty sure they had made a channel for every possible message someone could ever send.

There were equally as many voice channels, most of them titled with the names of different games for when they only played with each other and didn't stream. Some of them were just random names and she noticed there was one to match the rat takeover text channel. Okay, who was responsible for that?

After what felt like an entire scavenger hunt and with many new questions in her mind, Y/n finally found the voice channel Dream and George were in and clicked on it. It was called memerz-only.

"I'm not a memer, am I allowed in here?" she asked. She hadn't realized how messed up her voice was since she hadn't talked all day.

"Holy shit, Bug, you sound awful."

She scoffed a laugh. "Thanks, Dream. Really means a lot." She did sound pretty scuffed. Her voice was a little scratchy from not talking literally all day.

"You doing okay, Bugsy?" George asked kindly, to which she hummed.

“I just have one quick question...”

“Mhm?”

“This is simple, please don’t elaborate further. There’s a channel on this server... did you guys mean rat as in BadBoyHalo’s dog or rats as in rats?”

Neither of them spoke for a minute before George understood what she was referring to. “Oh! Rats as in rats.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Yeah, Quackity—“

“No!” she interupted. “No! I said I don’t wanna know. I really don’t. I’m too afraid to understand.”

“Wha- HA, okay.”

“Good choice, Bugsy. I wish I didn’t know what it’s about. It’s a lot weirder than you’d think.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Dream said with a laugh. “How are you doing, Bug?”

"Neither of you are streaming, right?" she asked, doubling checking the twitch app on her phone to be sure.

"No."

"So I don't have to pretend to be happy and bubbly?"

"No, you can be as mundane as you'd like," Dream said. "We don't mind."

"Yeah, honestly, most of the time when Dream and I are on calls alone it's just us being super boring and hardly talking."

"That's..." she paused to find the right words and decided with, "actually really cute. You guys just enjoy each other's presence."

George scoffed and Dream giggled. "See, even Bug says we're cute, Georgie! Why can you tell me you love me?"

"I'll leave right now if you don't stop," George threatened. "Can we go back to how Bugsy's miserable?"

"I'm not miserable, I just..." she hesitated. She had already told George about why she was having a bad day, but Dream?

She didn't want to tell Karl because she knew he would yell at her. She didn't want to tell Sapnap because she didn't trust him not to tell everyone (on accident, of course). For some reason, it was a different kind of hesitation than with the others that made her not want to tell Dream. She didn't want to tell him because she didn't want to be... embarrassed? Maybe that was it. She thought it would be embarrassing to tell Dream about how her ex-boyfriend treated her like shit and how now he wants to get back together with her. Plus, she knew how everyone else individually would react but Dream was a complete mystery. Maybe he'd yell at her too and say she's stupid for being affected by an ex. Maybe he'd break down crying for some reason? Who knows?

"You don't have to tell us," Dream stated. "Seriously."

"It's embarrassing," she said, tucking her feet beneath her on her seat. As she said the words, she decided they felt right. She was embarrassed. "But George already knows."

Above everyone else, Y/n was okay with telling George about her situation because he and her tended to talk about their troublesome relationships quite often. He always came to her for advice and she to him. They were very similar in their ways of thinking and seemed to have lots of similar dating stories, even if neither of them knew what the hell they were doing. She knew he'd never judge her for thinking unclearly since he tended to do the same.

George hummed, not knowing what to say since she hadn't said much. She could tell he didn't wanna say something that might make Dream more nosey and start hounding her about telling him.

"What hap—never mind. Not my business," Dream said quickly.

"No, I mean, I kinda wanted to talk to George about it again anyway so I guess you can join in on the gossip." Guess my mouth decided for me on this one, she thought.

"Wait, what? You guys gossip about boys without me?"

"Oh my gosh, don't say it like that, Dream," George groaned. "Bugsy and I talk about relationship problems a lot, yes. Not just boys."

"How did I not know this?"

"Because you don't know a lot of things?"

"It's normally George sending screenshots of text conversations with girls and asking me how to let them down gently," Y/n explained with a giggle.

"Or Y/n talking about her asshole ex."

"George! What do you and Karl not get about not calling him names?"

"I'm so lost," Dream mumbled.

Y/n sighed. "Okay, well," she cut herself off with a groan. "It's so embarrassing. Basically, my ex asked me to 'chat' this morning which is code for he wants to get back together—"

"Do you know that for sure?" Dream asked.

"Yeah, we already decided that," George snapped. "Let her finish."

"Sorry."

"So he wants to get back together and I feel stupid for wanting to listen to what he has to say."

"How is that embarrassing?"

"Because he hurt me and I feel like an idiot because him even suggesting that means he doesn't realize how badly he hurt me. It makes me feel like, I don't know, like all the time I spent being upset was for nothing," Y/n explained in a soft voice. "And because his simple, like, five word text made me freak out all day to the point of exhaustion."

"I don't think you should be embarrassed, Bugsy," George offered.

"Have either of you, uh, have you ever considered dating an ex?"

"Didn't you just say he hurt you badly?" Dream asked. "You aren't thinking of getting back with him, are you?"

"No... but I want to stay friends so maybe I should hear him out?"

"Well, I've never gotten back with an ex," he said bluntly. "But to be fair, all my relationships have ended badly or for bad reasons so I've never wanted to see any of them again. Staying friends depends on why you and he broke up, I guess, but..."

"Um, how do I put this..." she trailed off. "He was mean to me."

"Then no? Simple."

"But I've forgiven him and I think he's changed."

"People don't change that easily. Didn't you break up like, a few months ago?" George asked.

"Yeah, but—"

"Honestly I think if a guy was ever mean to you he doesn't deserve any more of your attention," Dream decided. "So, no. Don't even be his friend. Don't listen to a single thing he has to say."

"That's what I told her," George agreed.

"If that were the case, you guys shouldn't be friends," she argued. "You're mean to each other all the time."

"But we know it's a joke," George defended.

"So you're saying if someone is ever purposefully mean to you just once, you drop them forever?"

"Well, no," Dream said. "Not exactly. But it sounds like he was super mean to you since it's why you broke up."

She took a deep breath. She didn't want to go into detail. She was already uncomfortable enough talking about her personal life so much, but she trusted both of them and needed to get it off her chest and they were there and willing to listen. They had already established wanting to listen to her if she wanted to speak and right now, she wanted to speak. Maybe not the full story, but at least some. "He, um, well, the mean things he said, he said because he was trying to get me to see what he thought was the truth about myself."

Both of them were silent for a few moments. "I'm still confused," George admitted.

"Me too... But you don't have to tell us." Dream explained again. She thought it was sweet that they kept reassuring her that.

"I know, but I want to. If it's not too much for you guys..."

"No, go ahead, if you want."

"Uh, he lowkey emotionally manipulated me by telling me I wasn't good enough for anyone and stuff and how he was the only one who could ever love me. The second part he said truly believing that he was being romantic. There are a lot worse and specific things engraved in my brain but that's the gist of what he would tell me. He made me believe that I could never leave him because I could never be loved by anyone else. But he said it all in a way that... he thought he was just... letting me in on something no one else had the guts to tell me."

George gasped. "What?! Bugsy, I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was like that."

"Woah, what the hell? No. Absolutely not. Don't give this guy a second thought. Cut him off for good," Dream said sternly, angry that anyone would say that to anyone, especially to someone like Y/n. "Wait, so, you broke up with him?"

"Yeah. After Karl yelled at me a lot and explained his outside point of view, I finally realized Peter was gaslighting me and emotionally abusing me and stuff so I dumped him. I guess right now I'm just upset by it because I thought we were past this and I was healing and him reaching out affected me again. I'm just emotionally exhausted. Like I said, it hurts to know that he doesn't realize what he did to me."

"I'm really sorry, Bug," Dream said softly. "Gimme his address and I'll punch him for you."

She laughed through her nose. "That's okay. Thanks."

"Yeah, she can go set his house on fire if she wants. She's proven that already."

"Shut up, George," she said with a small laugh.

"Wh......at?" Dream stuttered and George briefly explained.

"Well, Bug, just so you know, in case you weren't aware, you're really cool and sweet and funny and we really like having you around–" Dream started.

"Oh, ugh, no don't do this," she tried to joke but he ignored her as he continued his speech.

"–and you're way too good to be hanging out with either of us, and whatever that asshole was showing you wasn't love. 'No one could love you like he did' because what he was doing was not love, it was abuse." Dream's voice had a certain gentleness to it as he spoke that comforted Y/n and made her believe him. He was blunt but it didn't stab her in the heart like it should have.

If Y/n ever cried, she might have just then from how sweet they were both being. But she didn't because that wasn't something she did. She never cried over anything Peter said, never cried during movies, and didn't cry then. But she did smile very fondly at the Discord screen in front of her.

"Thank you, Dream."

"You know I'm not good with words, but, yeah, what Dream said," George said. "I'm sorry you had to go through that thinking it was normal. Please, please, do not get back together with him and please don't be friends with him."

"He's fine as a friend though."

"Bug. Whether he's fine as a friend doesn't matter, he doesn't deserve to have you as a friend. He treated you like shit, it's okay to be a little cold to him."

She sighed. They were right. "Okay." There was a long pause before, "thanks, guys. Sorry for coming in here and dumping my problems on you—"

"Don't be sorry," George said. "We're the ones that asked you to come in and share. We knew what we signed up for and don't regret it."

"Seriously, Bug, we care about you. You're allowed to, you know, talk about yourself." How did he know that's what she meant by that sentence? The way he could read her mind was heart-warming.

"Also, George knows this but Dream, there's a strict no-telling policy about this kinda thing. Please don't tell anyone."

"I wouldn't even think of it," he promised. "My lips are sealed."

"Good."

A soft animal noise came from one of their mics and Y/n strained her ears to listen. "Was that a cat?"

"Patches has entered the chat," George joked.

Dream chuckled. "Yeah, my cat just jumped on my lap."

"Aw, you have a cat? Lemme see lemme see lemme see!" Y/n begged. "Partly because I would love if we could stop talking about my ex-boyfriend and the other part because I love cats."

"There's pictures of her in the pets channel on Discord—"

"No, no I want a picture of her on your lap. Is she all snuggled up?"

"Yeah, she is."

"PleASE, Dream. I need to see the snuggly cat."

"Fine, fine, if you insist. Give me a second."

A few moments later, she got a DM from Dream and smiled at the picture. His room was dark but the computer screen cast a cold glow over a ball of fur on a lap clad in sweatpants. "Awww, she's so cute."

"Dream, I wanna see it too," George whined. "Send it to the pets channel."

"I'm literally making this my lock screen," Y/n informed, making Dream laugh.

"No, George, it's only for Bug. She's had a bad day so she gets exclusive Patches content."

"What? That is so messed up."

"You know what's messed up, George?" Dream asked. "You never come to me with advice on how to reject girls. We're on the phone for 12 hours a day but you can't talk to me about girls? Do you know how that makes me feel?"

"You'll just make fun of me."

"Why would I? What makes you think that?"

"Because Sapnap and I make fun of you? So obviously you and him would make fun of me?" George said with a laugh.

"....that's fair."

Y/n locked her phone and clicked the home button to admire her new lock screen. "I love her," she whispered.

Dream and George both laughed. "I'm regretting sending you that. You're gonna, like, make a shrine or something."

"What would be wrong with that? She's precious. She deserves a shrine."

"Yeah, Dream, you're the one that feeds her gormet cooked food," George teased with a laugh. "You probably have a shrine."

"That's normal! That's what people feed their cats! That's completely normal!"

"I don't," George countered.

"Then what do you feed your cat?" Dream asked.

"I dunno, normal cat food?"

"Wait! You have a cat too??" Y/n asked. "I feel like we're missing a huge detail and it's that George never told me he had a cat."

"And a dog."

"WHAT? GEORGE! Send me pictures!!!!!"

"I can't right now, it's like three am. They're sleeping. Look in the pets channel."

"You're the worst," she grumbled, clicking and scrolling to find his pets. She saw a lot of cute pictures of other peoples pets along the way but couldn't find George's.

"Hey, do your animals have English accents?" Dream asked, making Y/n laugh.

"What?" George scoffed. "You're so stupid."

"How would that even sound?" Y/n asked.

"Like..." Dream thought, preparing to test out how it would hypothetically sound. "Meow," Dream meowed in his best accent, failing miserable.

"Oh gosh, never do that again," Y/n begged.

Dream laughed into his mic. "That was disgusting. George, I really hope your pets don't have accents."

"They're animals, so probably not. And if they did, it definitely wouldn't sound like whatever that was."

"Oh come on–"

"OH I FOUND THEM." Y/n announced as she found a message from George in the pets channel with the message 'heard we're sharing our pets'. "GEORGE. THEY'RE SO CUTE."

"Are you gonna make them your background picture now?" George asked.

"What, no way! It's Patches!" Dream scoffed.

"Yeah, I'll make George's pets my home screen. Oh, what a good day." As soon as she said it, a metal bowling ball fell to her stomach, reminding her of all the reasons it was, in fact, not a good day.

She got off after a while, feeling the weight of a particular idiot man's stupid simple text catch up with her again. She thanked Dream and George for letting her join, they invited her to always hang out with them, and she went on her way.

Y/n fell on her bed and curled up under the covers as her mind started to wander from Peter to Dream. She was really glad she met him. He was a really good person and he was always so incredibly kind to her. George and Sapnap and Karl were all great friends, so caring and understanding and always looking out for her, but Dream was different and she didn't know why.

Maybe it was because he seemed untouchable still, like he had no reason to hang out around someone like her. But he wasn't untouchable in the celebrity was since he had a large following, because all of her friends did and they didn't seem untouchable. Then what was it? What set him apart from, say, Karl? She trusted Karl with her life and had known him for quite a while. She knew Dream for maybe a few weeks and almost trusted him the same amount.

Why?

She picked her phone up off the bed and pulled up Twitter, deciding to DM Dream since he was already existing in her mind rent-free. Might as well make him pay his rent by bothering him.

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A/N: EEEEEEEE I hope that all made sense lmaaoooo basically yn ex = gaarrbbaaagggeeeee and ruined her self-worth a lot!! not poggers!!!!!! THANK U GUYS FOR BEING SO SWEET ALL THE TIME ALL FOR ALL THE POSITIVE FEEDBACK ON ALL THE CHAPTERS!!! I love seeing you guys make predictions and tell me how aljkDFB chapters make you feel bc same :/

taglist: OPEN (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @jabby16 @mae-musicbitch @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk

#rpf #real person fiction #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #mcty x reader #mcyt x y/n #clay x reader #dream smau #dreamwastaken smau #smau #social media fic #dream social media fic #social media au

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profoundtyrantharmony · 2 years

Text

Title : A Touch of Affection

Pairing : Modern!Ivar x Reader

Words : 2504

Warning : Fluff

Note : Roommate to Bestfriend to Lover. I made it soft!Ivar cause it’s my favorite.

Chapter Plot : Reader and Ivar spend halloween in Japan.

Tags : @youbloodymadgenius // @draculasbride-blog // @ivarhoegh // @black-repunzel99 // @theanxietyqueen17

Masterlist // Request Serie Masterlist

Bonus #05 How to Spend Halloween in Japan

Today is a big day, we have many things to plan. Just before arriving to our Ryokan we quickly met a girl distributing tracts about a soon to be Halloween Party in Roppongi Hills. At the beginning we were not really interrested, we thought it would be like every occidental Halloween Party so not really what we’re looking for while travelling. How wrong were we !

Ivar and I both decide to take our breakfast outside. We walk for a bit, hand in hand -it’s reassuring to have someone so close in a city as big as Tokyo- to see what’s gonna attract our taste buds. We walk and talk together like we always do when suddenly, some sort of smell hits us both with violent and urgent delight.

“Min Skatt ! He hums loudly. What is this smell ? I don’t want to go anywhere else but here !”

“I don’t know Bunny, but it certainly got my attention too.” I smile at him while trying to find where this sweet smell is coming from.

“It’s not that far, we might even be closer than we think...” He sniffs the air like a dog would do with his treats.

“Bunny don’t do that you look weird !”

“What is our other option sweetheart !? I’m hungry and can’t stand the fact that we’re near a place serving delicious treats and we’re not capable of finding it, it’s infuriating and I don’t want to give up !” If he could he would have stamp his foot on the ground, a very mature action might I say -not really actually !-.

“I’ve never mentionned we would give up, just use an other strategy than mimicking a dog !”

“I was not mimicking a dog ! He says a bit offended. I was mainly trying to use my sense of smell. Anyway, what would be our best option ?!”

“Yeah of course, not mimicking a dog. I gently pat his right cheek trying not to smile too much. As for my solution I thought we could ask people if they know what does it smell and where we could find the place to find it. It’s a basic thing to do when you search for a specific thing or place, to ask the people around... But apparently this is not a natural instinct of yours...” I try really hard not to laugh at him or the situation but to no avail, this is so funny, he is too cute to stay serious. He’s pouting, realising how easy it was to solve our problem.

“I should trust people more, I’m sorry !”

“Don’t worry that’s why I’m here, I’m kind of the extroversion asset, I’ll go toward people each and everytime you feel like it, we’re a team !”

“A great one at that !”

“Exactly ! Now let’s get to work, or might I remind you how hungry you are ?” I wink at him.

“Shut up you unsuferrable woman ! I’m not my brother Hvitserk, I don’t think about food all the time, I think about other things !” He seems proud of him saying this.

“Like what ?”

“I mean many things, work for instance, our videos are taking a lot of our time.”

“Is that all, you’re thinking about work related subject ? Aren’t you bored ? Don’t you think about other things ?”

“You ! I think about you, all the time, all days, in the most inopportune times... Happy !?” He says this quickly, I don’t know if he’s serious or if he’s joking... The faint blush tainting his cheeks is probably a clue of the truth behind his words.

“More than happy deary I’m actually glad !”

After our little friendly flirty banter I start to ask people around us -it’s difficult because of the language barrrier- but I finally found an old man who seem to have understand me. He takes my arm gently and tells me in a broken english that the smell is one of pancakes and that he’s gonna lead us to the shop where we could find them. I explain this all to Ivar that hurridly starts walking with us. We talk together for a bit, it’s always interesting to learn new cultures with people from a different generation.

We arrived in front of the shop, the smell could be described as an olfactory orgasm. We bid our good bye to the old man, it’s a bit sad, you meet someone with whom you connect instantly for it to end too soon. That’s the beauty of meeting new people I guess, you don’t always have to stay in touch to keep good memories of them.

A Happy Pancake, this is the name of the restaurant chain. We’re lead to our seat near the window and starts reading the menu, unfortunately they didn’t have a full menu in English -but we’ve been told that there would be one in the near future- but it’s not a problem because the staff members can speak english, plus the pictures on the menu are meaningful enough. We both choose, I choose one with tiramisu and Ivar choose one with seasonal fruits. The both of them looks delicious.

We take pictures to post on our social media accounts as well as our “work account”. It’s important to show people what are the thing they can do or try while in vacation, I mean that’s what we think and that’s why we do it -also Ivar is a photography lover so for him it’s really not for work-.

“Well, Halloween Party, what are we gonna do ?” He asks me eating a bit of persimmon fruit.

“First we need to understand more how it’s done here, I mean apparently there is no such things as trick or treating, it’s more for the adult you know...” I explain to him what I learn from different roots while savouring my tiramisu pancake.

“We could search more about it on the internet, so to not be seen as utter idiot...”

“Gods know you don’t like being seen as an idiot !” I interrupt him, mouth full, uper lips slightly cover in cream.

“Watch your mouth young lady, or I’ll have to kiss it to shut you up ! He points me with his index finger, staring at my cream covered lips. Or maybe just lick them clean... He murmurs the last one to himself, but I still hear it. He comes back to his senses the moment I clean myself from the cream and take his hand to gently kiss his palm and wrist. Y-Yeah...well...alright, let’s get back to halloween shall we Min Skatt ?!” He blushes, stuttering a little.

“Of course cutie, once we found enough informations about it we definitely should catch on what are their costumes like, what should we be wearing...”

“I totally agree, we could buy some magasines about it, I heard we can find some in a Kombini, after it would be great to know how to go to Roppongi Hills and not stressing about it at the last minute.” I stay mute for a few minutes before speaking again.

“I had completely forgot that the party isn’t here !! If it wasn’t for you I would’ve stayed here until it comes back to my mind. I errupt in a full belly laugh that has many other customers look at us in surprise.

“Min Skatt ! He sighs. Sometimes I wonder how is it possible that you’re still in one piece and travelling when you forget something you learn not even a day ago !”

“Shut up Bunny, that’s why you love me !” I exclaim proud of myself.

“Obviously my sweet, how could I live without you.”

We spend a good part of the day reading articles from various blogs and magasines. We now understand how it works and how to act properly. We then walk the street of different place in Tokyo using public transports. It really helps and after checking where Roppongi Hills is situated from our place to stay, we decided that we would probably use a cab or an uber, with his crutch and the crowed street there’ll be it would be easier for him and for me as well.

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The day after, we decide to dedicate it to finding a good outfit for the party. The usual witch, vampire or ghost costumes are out of the questions. In Japan it’s usually characters from anime that are chosen to be impersonated during Halloween which is logic as the amount of people doing cosplay must be higher in here than in Norway for instance.

The problem is that nor Ivar nor me are really into manga anime, we watched some of course but not enough to want to be disguise in any specific characters.

“Do you have an idea ?” I ask him, we’re in a cats bar drinking a hot drink while playing with the fluffy ball of furs. We’re both sitting in a confortable bench with cushions trying to think of a good idea.

“None, should we do a sort of costume duo ?”

“It would be awesome !”

“You could be a slashered maid and I’d be your slasher.” He shrugs, sucking up his drink from a stainless steel straw.

“Hmmm, yeah, I’d be half naked for everybody to see, I didn’t think you’d be willing to share me but if you’re willing Bunny...how could I refuse.” I approach my face toward his, caressing the side of it while whispering this to his ears.

“I changed my mind, that’s not a good idea, have you seen yourself ?! I mean no one with clarity of mind woud want to see you in such a state of undress. Who do you think you are ? A splendor blessed by the gods !?” He babbles again, more like praising me without knowing he’s praising me.

“Hummm...” I was going to interrupt him to explain my point of view but I couldn’t, he’s too focus on his monologue to hear me. Guess I’ll have to listen to him praising me as if I was perfection itself.

“Of course you are !! There is no way I’ll let all this men looked at you as if you’re nothing more but a piece of meat they could shag !! Not as long as I got a breath of life left !” He starts getting angry, it’s all in his head, I have to calm him before it gets worse. I take him in my arms in a conforting hug, kiss his temple and stroking his hair.

“Jealous are we ?”

“No at all.” He mumbles, getting closer to me if it’s even possible.

“I appreciate it you know, you look like such a manly viking ready to sacrifice anyone that comes across from you and me. If I didn’t know you, I’d find this creepy as f*ck, but I know you and I know it comes from a good place, thank you my sweet Bunny for always taking care of me even when I don’t ask for anything. You’re the best.” I peck his lips with gentleness and adoration. He loses himself in the kiss, closing his eyes to better appreciate the feel of my lips on his.

“I think I got an idea. He whispers against my parted lips. You mentionned vikings and sacrifice...

“Actually I mentionned you being manly and a viking...” I say in a sultry voice, close to his mouth in a way that we’re almost kissing.

Stop it you...”

“Insufferable woman ?” I ask him with a know it all look.

“Exactly ! Well, do you remember some pictures from our history books back at school, some of them were creepy enough to perfectly fit for an Halloween costume...and slight body paint ! He grinns the last part. What do you say, will you let me paint your body as I’ll allow you to paint mine ?” The slight groans he emits before lunging himself for an other kiss gets me everytime, I respond to his kiss with as much fervor muttering three small words before his tongue enters my mouth deepening the kiss for a lot more passions.

“Yes I will !”

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When we find the perfect picture to get inspired for the Halloween party, we only have few things to do. Buy corporal paints for ou faces and upper body as well as some accessories like fake crowns and some sort of vikings outfits. We search for quite a time, asking vendor in specialized market and all. Fortunately we find the one, it’s a cosplay store, but with more choice than just the usual anime cosplay. We could find everything that we need and the vendor woman -who fluently speak english- even gives us the adress to an actual body paint artist to do our Halloween make up. Her name is Hikaru Cho, she’s a famous artist. We’re so lucky because to be brutally honest, I’m not a make-up artist, neither does he, we would have been in a tense situation if we had to do this on our own.

We contact her with the help of the vendor woman -whose name is Akiko-, they talk together for a few minutes. After ending the call Akiko tells us that it’s okay in one condition, we had to accept to pose for her new portfolio. Ivar and I look at each other, and without an ounce of hesitation we accept the offer right away.

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It’s been two days since the phone call and today is the day of the Halloween party and also the day where we’re going to be body painted as well as posing as model for a famous artist, this is just unbelievable.

Hikaru is one of the most gentle woman in the world, sweet, delicate and professional. She eases us into being half naked in front of her, it’s strange having someone ainted your skin, the paint brush are tickling some part of our body. I’m the lucky one cause only my face and arms are to be painted, Ivar must have his back and torso painted as well, and let me remind the world how sensitiv he is to a certain place in his torso. He tries so hard not to squirm too much or show any type of uneasyness.

It takes several hours for us both to be ready, and to have the photograhy being taken. We’re bidding our good bye to Hikaru and go to Roppongi Hills where we’re gonna party all night long, and he needs it because I got some plans for him and his “problem”, I’m determined to make him feel good, that is a promise I make. He’s really not reared for what’s about to come.

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This is the end of this chapter, hope you enjoyed reading it. If you want to be tagged tell me in the comments.

Like, Comment and Reblog are highly appreciated.

English is not my mother tongue.

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lostinthewiind · 3 years

Note

Hi!!! I just wanted to say that I freaking love your cherry X Joe X Reader poly series! And its actually got me into the anime!!! I was actually wondering if you want to, write one where the female! Reader is being stalked and harassed by a co-worker at her job and she didn't want to tell Joe and cherry because she doesn't want them to worry about her too much because they already have so much on their plates. But one day, the two of them decide to pick up the her up to surprise her, flowers and everything. And they see the co-worker harassing their lover and it's up to you to determine how they would react? Can also plz make were the three of them are engaged?

Polyamorous Relationship w/ Joe & Cherry: Your Problems, My Problems, Our Problems

A/N: first of all, I'm so honoured to hear that I got you into anime :) Secondly, I can already feel that this request is going to be fun to write! I'll make sure to add an engagement fic to the series soon as well because I've been meaning to anyway. So happy that so many people seem to really like this series as much as I do.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: stalking, predatory behaviour, slightly angsty, profanity, someone who does NOT drink their 'respect women' juice

"Awh, come on, Sweetheart." Your coworker slipped into the elevator with you at the last second despite your desperate attempt to escape him at the end of the day. "Just one drink and then I'll never ask again."

You clenched your fist by your side on the opposite side of him so he wouldn't see. Mustering all of your strength, you forced a fake smile. "Sorry, I can't tonight. I've got plans with my boyfriend."

You had been dropping these not-so-subtle hints that you absolutely were not interested for months on end by now, but your coworker was either completely blinded by his persistence or was willingly ignoring them in favour of achieving his goal.

At first, when you had transferred to his floor at the company building, he had come across as nothing more than a kind mentor offering to show you the ropes. But then, bit by bit, he got pushier. 'Get to know your coworkers' dinners soon turned to just the two of you alone at a bar, which quickly turned into a situation that you found uncomfortable and ever since then, you had turned down all of his advances.

In the beginning, you had tried to make your excuses believable and turn him down nicely since he was above you in the company, but as the weeks passed and he still didn't seem to get the message, your responses got shorter and less believable. Now he was asking you out pretty much every day, multiple times a day. Sometimes he would even follow you to your car to make sure you were going home just like you said you were.

You weren't sure when it had happened, exactly, but things had gone from annoying to anxiety-inducing seemingly overnight and you had no idea what to do about it.

"You always mention this 'boyfriend' of yours," he used air quotes to make it clear that he didn't believe you, "but I've never seen him. Sure you aren't lying just to get me to go away?"

You chuckled nervously, hoping to come up with a quick answer to satisfy him for the night so that he wouldn't feel the need to tail you to your car. "No, of course not. He just has a busy work schedule as well. You know how it is."

He eyed you sternly, his gaze almost piercing. "Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight."

As soon as the elevator doors slid open on the main floor of the building, he gave a wave and exited before you and headed for the front doors. Slowly, you followed him out, and as soon as you saw him disappear into the darkness of the night, you exhaled shakily and took a moment to regain your composure.

You honestly didn't know how you managed to seem so calm and collected around him on the daily considering your heart always pounded ruthlessly against your rib cage whenever you saw him.

Once you were fully composed again, you made your way to your car as fast as possible and drove back home, knowing that seeing Joe and Cherry would immediately make you feel better; not that they knew their presence was something you relied on at the end of the day because you refused to tell them.

At first, you kept it to yourself because it seemed harmless and you didn't want them to overreact and blow up at nothing, but then, as it got worse, it just seemed like the time to tell them had passed. And the last thing you wanted to do was worry them when they both already had exhausting work lives as well.

You simply didn't want to be a burden. You were sure they dealt with annoying coworkers as well and they didn't feel the need to bother you with those stupid little problems, so you wouldn't either.

Walking through the front door of your shared apartment, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders at the sight of Cherry at his desk and Joe sitting on the couch with the television playing some show on low volume.

“I’m home,” you announced with a weary, but genuine, smile on your face. Before either of your boyfriends could utter a response, you had kicked off your shoes, made your way over to the couch, and curled up next to Joe with your face buried in his neck. His hair was wet, indicating he had just gotten out of the shower, and the smell of his shampoo and body wash calmed you instantly.

“Hey.” Joe wrapped an arm around you as he shared a quizzical look with Cherry. Usually, you would get changed, shower, and eat something before even thinking about relaxing for the night. “Everything okay?”

Realizing that you had basically announced that everything was not, in fact, okay with your unusual actions, you froze for a second. You contemplated just coming clean about everything right then and there, but before you could make a decision, the words “I’m fine” were spilling from your mouth.

“Just a long and exhausting day at work,” you followed up your lie with some details, not they they were technically false as it had been a long and exhausting day . . . just not for the reasons they thought. “I’ve been thinking about coming home to you two ever since my alarm went off this morning. Just one of those days.”

The sweet smiles that dawned Joe’s and Cherry’s faces proved that they believed you. “You hungry?” Joe pressed a kiss to your temple. “I brought home some leftovers from work again.”

Your eyes lit up and Joe chuckled. “Really?” You found yourself forgetting about your troubles in the blink of an eye.

“Really really.” Joe nodded. “I can heat some up for you if you want to shower and get changed.”

Pulling a dramatically emotional face, you faked a sniffle. “You’re the best, you know that?” You planted a big kiss to his lips before heading for the bedroom and stopping in the doorway. “You’re the best too, Kaoru,” you added for good measure so your other boyfriend didn’t feel left out before vanishing into the bedroom.

You heard Cherry scoff amusingly in the background, but by then you were in too good of a mood to throw something snarky back at him and were determined to enjoy the moment because you knew that this good feeling would disappear as soon as you started work again in the morning.

But for now, you could enjoy the comforts of your home and the two people you loved most in the world.

━━━━━━━━

As you finished your work for the day and got ready to head home, overjoyed that it was the last night you would have to work overtime for a while, you were surprised that you had managed to get through the day with little interaction or pestering from your coworker.

You didn’t want to jinx yourself or anything, but for a brief moment the thought that he had finally given up crossed your mind. Out of the corner of your eye, you scanned the office for him but he was nowhere to be seen. Sighing in relief, you gathered your things and made a bee-line for the elevator.

For once, you had managed to get through an entire day without being cornered and asked out for the millionth time.

As the elevator doors opened and you stepped out into the lobby, you spotted two familiar faces waiting for you at the front doors and you felt your heart swell with excitement. You had expected both your boyfriends to be busy tonight with work, the same as you were, so seeing them both standing there, waiting for you with flowers in hand, was a welcomed surprised.

Thinking that today was actually a good day for once, you rose your hand to wave with a grin on your face, a feeling of freedom and joy spreading through you . . . that was until you felt a hand clasp down on your shoulder. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Immediately, your good mood had vanished.

Slowly, you lowered your hand—your smile fading in the process—and turned around to face your coworker.

“Thought you could get away without me noticing?” His grin was wide and toothy, like a predator showing off its fangs to prove how powerful it was. He didn’t pay any mind to Joe or Cherry, which meant that he either didn’t know they were there for you or didn’t care.

“I’m actually in a bit of a hurry.” You gestured over to your boyfriends, hoping that the realization that your significant other was real would finally be enough to scare him off. “I’ve got plans.”

He glanced Joe and Cherry’s way briefly, but it did nothing to deter him. “Oh, so you do actually have a boyfriend. Which one is he?”

You swallowed hard. Usually, explaining the whole polyamory thing was too time-consuming so you told people you had a boyfriend and left it at that. “It’s, well . . . um . . .”

Before you were forced to answer, Joe and Cherry had noticed your discomfort from across the lobby and started making their way over. The look in Joe’s eyes gave away that he was none too pleased that your male coworker still had his hand on your shoulder.

“This must be one of your coworkers,” Cherry was the first to speak, extending his hand politely to your coworker. “Nice to meet you.”

Your coworker used his free hand to shake Cherry’s while Joe just grunted in disapproval. In a desperate attempt to escape the situation without causing a scene, you tried to shift closer to Joe but were stopped by your coworker’s hand clamping down harder on your shoulder.

“We’re the boyfriends.” Joe’s grip tightened around the bouquet of flowers he was holding as he reached out, wrapped an arm around your waist, and pulled you away from your coworker and toward him.

“Boyfriends? As in plural?” Your coworker tilted his head at you quizzically. “You never told me you had two boyfriends.”

“I never-” you started, but you were quickly cut off.

“I’m a little surprised you’re real,” your coworker said, somehow seemingly completely unfazed. “I was seriously beginning to believe she was making you up to avoid going out with me.”

You shook your head and chuckled nervously, something you found yourself doing around him a lot in order to keep the mood light. “I would never lie to you. It’s just busy schedules is all, like I said yesterday.”

“Going out with you?” Cherry cocked a brow and crossed his arms over his chest. “The woman tells you she has a boyfriend and you still insist on asking her out?”

Your coworker just laughed. “Well we used to go out all the time when she first switched departments. I thought she was just playing hard to get but I guess not.”

Both Joe and Cherry turned to you, glimmers of confusion in their eyes. “You used to go out?” Joe asked, concerned that they had just found out you had been cheating on them.

“No!” you blurted out. “Well, I mean, yes, but it was as a group of coworkers. Never just the two of us.”

“Never?” your coworker repeated. “What about those times at the bar? Did you seriously forget? That hurts my feelings, you know.”

You felt your cheeks flush red and your heart begin to pound. Suddenly, you had been backed into a corner by your past self’s naive kindness. “I didn’t know it was going to be just the two of us until I showed up,” you stated quietly. “You lied to me to get me to go.”

“Is that true?” Joe placed a finger under your chin and lifted your head to get you to look him in the eyes. You could tell he wasn’t accusing you of anything, only looking for answers.

You nodded, finally feeling brave enough to tell the truth with your boyfriends by your side. “Once I realized he was after something more, I started turning down his propositions. Then he started asking me every day . . . then he started following me to my car,” you whispered the last part, worried about what might happen if your coworker heard you say that part. “Can we please leave now?”

Noticing that your hands were shaking and your bottom lip was quivering, Joe instantly knew that you were telling the truth; no one would ever be so terrified to tell a lie like this. “Yes, of course, we can leave now.” He held you closer. “Whatever you want.”

“So you’re gonna lie and make me look like the bad guy here?” your coworker huffed, truly playing the victim card to the fullest. “I’m the asshole because I wanted to buy you a few drinks and get to know you better?”

“No, you’re the asshole for continuing to pursue her when she clearly told you no,” Cherry snapped, now just as angry as Joe was, maybe even more. “She’s kind and, because of that, probably turned you down nicely—too nicely—and you took advantage of that . . . you fucking prick.”

Your eyes widened with disbelief. Usually, Cherry was the one to remain calm in stressful or aggravating situations, but apparently not this time. You rarely heard him curse or snap, let alone at someone he met for the first time five minutes ago.

Reaching out, you grabbed hold of Cherry’s hand and squeezed lightly to catch his attention. “I really think we should leave now,” you told him.

Drawing in a deep breath and collecting himself, Cherry agreed. “Yes, you’re right, we should. We have dinner plans and it would be a waste to miss them on account of this asshole.”

“Fine, have it your way.” Your coworker finally seemed to give in, but not without hurling a few insults your way first, of course. “I shouldn’t have wasted my time on someone like you anyway. What, two boyfriends is perfectly fine but three is crossing a line? Give me a fucking break. Slut.”

You saw the rage bubbling up in both Joe and Cherry, but before they had the chance to do anything about it, your coworker had turned his nose up at the three of you, pushed his way past, and exited the building.

As soon as he was completely out of sight, they both turned to you and you felt the tears begin to well in your eyes; not necessarily because you were sad or angry, but because you were so relieved that the truth had finally come out and your coworker had finally been dealt with.

“I’m so sorry,” you spoke through gentle sobs, trying to calm down all the while. “I should have told you two about him when it all first started but I just didn’t want to burden you two with an issue that seemed so . . . so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Joe pulled you in for an almost bone-crushing hug. “You said he was following you to your car. That’s not stupid. You must have been so scared.”

“You should have told us,” Cherry agreed. “Now that I know you were dealing with that all by yourself for months, it makes me feel like a bad boyfriend. I should have picked up on the signs, like when you came home completely drained last night. I wish we could have helped you sooner.”

Wiping away your tears, you drew in a deep breath. “Thank you for coming tonight and for telling him off. I just hope he doesn’t pull anything at work tomorrow . . . he is technically my superior.”

“If he tries anything, and I mean anything, you tell us right away. Okay?” Joe insisted. “From now on, no more secrets because you want to protect us or don’t want to burden us. Your problems are our problems.”

You nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank us. It’s our job to keep you safe and be there for you.” Cherry kissed your cheek softly. “Now, I’m starving so let’s go eat, yeah?”

Suddenly, you remembered just how hungry you were. “Yes, dinner sounds lovely.”

“Speaking of lovely, these are for you.” Joe handed you the bouquet of flowers—now with slightly smushed stems from his previous anger—that he had brought.

“They are beautiful.” You took them happily and gave them a smell, the floral scent bringing your nerves down a little. “You two seriously are the best, you know that?”

“We know.”

#sk8 the infinity #lostinthewiind #sk8 joe #sk8 cherry blossom #sakurayashiki karou #nanjo kojiro #reader imagine #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #slight angst #sk8 #polyamorous relationship with cherry and joe #polyamorous #polyamory

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eisforeidolon · 3 years

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I'm just gonna say it. Tumblr basically ruined Supernatural, in the sense its warped what the show was actually about to so many people. Somehow they think it's this cutesy twee shippy series, where everyone is happy and hanging out at the Bunker having BBQ's. I mean yeah, Supernatural had a game night episode, we saw Dean setting up Mouse Trap. But then it all ended very violent and very dark.

Kicker is when these people actually watch the show, and it is dark and bad things happen to likable characters they are shocked. Or that surprise! Dean is straight and kind of a pretty big perv. All these notions they had about the show are just not there, like in 15 years, when has their ever been a "shippy" ep where everyone recounts how they "fell in love" w/ a character? Never, because that was not Supernatural.

***********************************

Right. The show as represented by that entire sock-stuffed portion of tumblr has almost nothing in common with actual Supernatural past the characters' names.

Which is not to say that fandom in general doesn't have a long and colorful history of focusing on their own fluffy twee re-imaginings - oodles of fanfic full of sleepovers, meet cutes, game nights, cuddle piles, etc. Because it totally does, often I think especially so for darker media because the characters see so little innocent fun in their canon lives. It's not my thing, but it's usually pretty harmless. So long as the line between fanon things and the actual canon remains reasonably intact - and that's where the problem with Supernatural and destihellers comes in.

It may have started off innocently enough with typical "what if" fandom imaginings over maybe shippy moments (if you tilt your head sideways and squint). The problem is that along the way too many of the shippers became unhealthily obsessed and massively entitled, and started treating those maybe moments as definitive "proof" of a super sneakret overarching authorial intent. Ultimately, the amount of time they were spending actually watching the show was a minuscule blip compared to all the time and effort they were putting into "analyzing" very specific isolated random moments cherry-picked from episodes. So that heavily curated, insanely skewed, gif-ed to death reinterpretation became their collective memory of what the show actually was. Everything else was just background noise to the greatest love story (n)ever told!

Sure they retained some peripheral awareness that there were, like, monsters and death and stuff and Dean had a brother named, uh, Ham or something? But none of that was really important to the One True Story the show was totes actually telling! Even Dean and Castiel treating each other like crap was just angsty foreplay to make the happily ever ending feel more earned, uwu!

They ignored or explained away everything they didn't like. Since that was approximately 98.9% of the show, they were SHOCKED when the brother-centric monster horror drama full of death ended in .. *gasp* ... monsters, death, and brother feels. Yet like a bunch of moronic toddlers, they just keep shouting NO NO NO and trying to blame everyone else for what they did to themselves.

It's annoying, and a disservice to anyone who finds out about SPN through tumblr. That said, I think over time the show itself will hold up just fine. Meanwhile tumblr is barely hanging on until fandom finds an adequate replacement catchall platform. So for all their sound and fury and attempts to co-opt the show's legacy? If they're lucky, fandom will forget how obnoxiously batshit insane they were. If they're not, time and distance will just further prove them to be conspiracy-obsessed self-made fools to anyone who actually watches the show.

#destihellers #fandom issues #askboxery #anonymous #thank you Daisy #for sitting on my power strip #and making me have to type this #long post #twice

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saintobio · 3 years

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i love the fact that no one in sn is necessarily bad or good everyone is in the gray area. even sera despite being with a married man i still understand where she's coming from i mean if my lover kept telling me he loves me even after his marriage with another woman i wouldnt let him go either im not saying its right for her to do that but yk.. i get it.

and lets talk about gojo that man need to let go one of them before the problem become permanent i also the fact that gojo told yn "but i want you" even just because it was the heat of the argument explain the fact that now he has accepted his needs for yn.his ego already bruised. even if part of him still want to deny the fact that his fathers (who was one of the reason he got married in the first place) decisions could be the reason he can be truly happy and he hates that. which is understandable because if gojo and yn actually become happy together his father would still act like an ass towards his own son and probably thinks his own son owes him for his happiness. (which is not tru at all i hate his dad so much i hope he burns in h3ll)

now about yn i want to take her out for a picnic or smth because she doesn't deserve whatever shes going through rn but im scared gojo starts to rub off on her but not in the good way lile fuck i hate cold distant yn too part of me just want to tell her to talk it out with him instead of avoiding it and tell him how she truly feels and i know for a fact yn is too nice to a confront someone and i think its one of her biggest flaw. the fact that she always dance around her problem because shes too scared to hurt the ones she cares about but... i love this version of yn too because she starts to put herself above the others and its so refreshing and i also think she just need a weekend getaway with her sister and dad and her close friends w/o satoru

also toji i know his intentions were good but him basically provoked something kinda fucked up like dude?? he knows hes gonna cause a scene and he still went with it ?? but thanks to toji cause hes the only one that can distracted yn from her problems for a moment instead of her stressing out. i know toji loves yn company for who she is but i think part of toji secretly love making gojo mad. and probably envy him for having such a caring loving wife

7&10 are my favorites because when i thought things get kinda better something just HAS to went wrong amd i love every second of it.

the fact ur characters always have layers to them not just like one dimensional character like each of them have their flaws and their strength even i can't truly hate the 'antagonist' in the story even though ive been rooting for yn since day 1. and this statement is not only for sn but also for ur other fics too especially the angst ones welp unless its sophia or sophie idk but we're not gonna talk about that

-🛌

thanks so much for sharing ur commentaries <3 also we cannot deny that if not for toji's plan to make gojo jealous, gojo would never have blurted out loud in front of everyone including sera that he wants yn. i agree that chapters 7-10 seem to be the readers' favorites hhhh i still get notifs from those constantly.

i am vv glad that you are appreciate how the characters were written in this series despite some of them being rly complex aaaa <33

#saintobio.asks #series: sincerely not

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 20 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader lies to Spencer.

A/N: Please read the content warnings for this one if you have basically any triggers, lol. This is a very heavy chapter - it is the penultimate climax of the story. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Angst (NSFW) Content Warning: 🚨 IMPORTANT – READ BEFORE READING🚨 This episode covers a number of very dark topics, and should be approached at a time when you have support systems available. Potential triggering topics include: sexual assault, violations of consent, suicide, self-harm, pregnancy/termination, infertility, domestic dispute, fighting, and underage drinking, sex w/ blanket consent Word Count: 11K

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

Rossi’s house was every bit as extravagant as I had expected. I had come in honestly hoping to be slightly disappointed so I could mock him for it, but, as always, he had to force his appearance to be as unnecessarily elegant as possible.

That being said, I was a little surprised to find that most everyone gathered in one spot - the kitchen. It was only to be expected, considering it was usually the happiest room in the home. That certainly remained true for Rossi. But they were also all gathered there because that was where the wine was – wine that I was not allowed to drink.

Rossi didn’t have a problem with it… Spencer did. Because of course he did. And while I politely declined when Rossi offered me some, anyway, I found another offer a little more tempting. Which explains why I found myself clutching Derek’s flask and draining half the contents quickly enough to remind him that I was, in fact, in college.

And if anyone were to ask, I would simply tell them that we were hanging out in the hall outside the bathroom to have a very deep and secret heart-to-heart about our shared love for a certain mop headed genius. It would have been the perfect cover to use on pretty much everyone except…

“Ahem.”

The sound of Spencer’s throat clearing behind me was enough to cause me to choke, and I quickly tossed the closed flask back to an already giggling Derek as I shouted, “Fuck!” I didn’t even turn around when his hand snaked around my hip. Instead, I just groaned.

“The narc’s here,” I whispered to Derek, but he knew better than to answer.

“The narc?” Spencer balked, much to his friend’s delight.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Derek offered in consolation, taking a swig out of the flask and earning a very defensive glare from my boyfriend. In fact, Spencer seemed downright pissed, which wasn’t what I had been expecting when I agreed.

Oops. What’s the male equivalent of a cat fight?

“Morgan, didn’t you lecture me about her drinking underage a few months ago?” he snapped, grabbing the flask from a more than willing Derek. Spencer sniffed the contents and immediately recoiled, tossing it back again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled, shooting a glance down to see me sort of just making heart eyes at the sight of my boyfriend being a stupid level of jealous that I'd been caught in the hallway with another boy.

“How does that make it better? That makes it patently worse,” he argued. Derek might have responded to it, too, if I hadn’t latched myself onto Spencer’s side.

“You’re so cute when you get all stupid and possessive,” I drawled, burying my face in his shoulder in what I think was supposed to be a playful kiss, but actually just ended up being a muffled laugh.

“That,” Derek chuckled, pointing to me teetering back and forth on my heels at Spencer’s side, “That is my cue to leave.” With one final wink, he whispered, “Don’t be too hard on him, Princess.”

Spencer’s angry sigh and entirely stiff posture should have served as my warning, but it was just funny to me at the time.

“They all think I’m the boss of us,” I giggled. “Me! The boss!”

“You’re drunk.” His tone dropped the second Derek was out of earshot, and on intimidation alone, he managed to back me against the wall.

“So is everyone but you. They won’t even notice,” I mumbled, although the more the hallway started to spin, the less I believed that. I'd never been very good at math or shots, and this was a pretty horrible miscalculation of just how much of my tolerance I’d lost.

“You really couldn’t wait a few more months? Or at least until we got home?”

He was chastising me, and I just wasn’t there to hear it. I probably could have figured it out if I’d tried, but it all sounded like sexy nonsense at the time. Walking my fingers down his chest, I paused at his belly before hooking them in his pants and pulling his hips against mine.

“I’m allowed to drink if my daddy says so,” I purred.

Spencer didn’t find my taunt as charming as I’d hoped, and before I knew it his hand was roughly pressed over my jaw. He tilted my head back to look him in the eyes, and I wondered if he could smell the whiskey on my breath.

“Well, I didn’t,” he growled.

I never said I was a perfect person, or even a smart one. And when I was drinking and Spencer whipped out his Daddy voice, I don’t know what he really expected me to do. But apparently, trying to grab his dick through his pants was the wrong move. He snatched my hand away quickly, slamming it against the wall before he continued his little impromptu lecture.

“I’m not rewarding you for this. We’re going home.”

“That’s not a very scary threat,” I deadpanned, throwing my body weight back against the wall.

That lasted about four seconds before he pulled me back to my feet and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Just wait, little girl. Just you wait until I get my fucking hands on you.”

I was going to make a snarky joke, to remind him that his hands were surely and firmly already on me, but I never got the chance. We were both too distracted by the very loud and very high pitched squeal of Penelope as she rounded the corner.

“Ah! I saw nothing!” she shouted, covering her face with her hands and refusing to remove them.

“Yeah, because we aren’t doing anything,” I laughed. But then, being the slightly cruel brat that I was, I stuck my tongue out at Spencer before tacking on a completely unnecessary, “anymore.”

“We weren’t doing anything before either!” he squeaked back. He wasn’t using his Daddy voice anymore. So swiftly, so easily, he’d been knocked from his higher footing.

Penelope took the words to heart, but only enough to slowly lower her fingers and peek between them. With a shaky voice and an awkward laugh, she started to rant. “Oh. It’s fine. I’m cool. We’re all cool. We don’t have to talk about that thing from the first time I met you ever again. Because we said we’d never talk about it again, do you remember that?”

“I do remember that,” I answered with a very sarcastic tone and a nod.

“And I just brought it up again, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I whispered, “Yes, you did.”

“I’m so sorry. Spencer, Hotch is looking for you,” she rushed, turning to the beet-red boy at my side. “Okay, that’s it. Take your time, because I’m cool and not at all mortified.” She was basically already gone before she'd even finished talking, taking off in the direction she'd come from while downing the drink in her hand.

With a loose, clumsy wave I shouted back, “Bye, Penelope.”

“Mortified is a good word. An accurate word,” Spencer huffed as he wiped a hand over his face. His bashfulness, while cute, was not as exciting as the pre-Penelope behavior.

Running my hands underneath his blazer and up his back, I pressed my chest against his. “Gosh, Dr. Reid. You need to be more appropriate in such a public setting.”

The words, while meant to get him riled up, did more to frustrate me. My drunken mind was more than happy to revert to the metro, and before I knew it, my daydreams were filled with images of Spencer stuffing me into the tiniest closet he could find and having his way with me.

“Oh, I’m the one lacking manners?” Spencer chuckled as he apparently read my very lewd thoughts. He pried my arms off of him and pulled them back to rest at my sides before pressing a strangely chaste kiss on my forehead. “Go get your stuff. I’m going to go talk to Hotch and I’ll meet you by the door.”

Before he disappeared around the corner, he shot me one last warning glance and ordered, “Do not mingle!”

“Don’t worry, I will!” I yelled back.

Once he was gone, it was my job to figure out how to make my body work again. Luckily, it wasn’t the first time I’d had too much to drink in a room filled with drunk adults. Granted, they usually weren’t all cops, but, whatever.

Turns out, it somehow made it easier. I managed to grab my things off the counter without alerting anyone except Penelope, who quickly turned back around with a blush. She probably figured I was gonna go blow him in the bathroom or something. I’d have been offended if the thought hadn’t literally just crossed my mind. I made it all the way to the door before I heard it. Back through the halls, a few of the group had separated to talk about how much harder it had been to see Hotch and JJ. It was nothing, just a little bug spreading through daycares like wildfire. That wasn’t what upset me, though.

No, the thoughts running through my head were more than just a passing thought of kids sick with a cold. I looked up at the walls of the entryway to Rossi’s home and saw intricate moulding and nothingness. I saw the exquisite, pristine rug underneath my feet, and I thought about how lonely it felt.

I was standing in a house that should have felt happy, filled with friends and family and love. There was no doubt that everyone who was there wanted to be there, and probably had nowhere else they’d rather be. But the tall ceilings and thousands of square feet felt so goddamn empty.

It isn’t the building, I heard a tiny, terrified voice call out from inside my own conscience.

It’s you. You’re empty.

I had to leave. I had to get out of the house. I had to hear the silence so that the nothingness would feel more appropriate and less noticeable. I couldn’t let them see me, because if they saw me, they would know. They would know that I was nothing but a husk of the girl they used to know. Without even thinking, I threw the door open, stumbling forward and almost falling flat on my face as I misjudged the small step down to the patio.

“Fuck!” I muttered, the world rocking around me with a stubborn persistence. If it weren’t for the frankly freezing temperature, I was sure I would have been sick. To make matters worse, there was a person quickly approaching.

“Hey, are you and Spence leaving already?”

It was JJ. Thank god, it was JJ. Probably the only person who wouldn’t make fun of me for being a mess on Rossi’s steps after only a few shots of whatever Morgan was drinking.

“Oh. Hey, JJ. Yeah. He’s…” I turned to my side, half expecting Spencer to be there to answer for me. But he wasn’t, so I ended up just pointing to the closed door before slurring, “he’s doing a thing.”

She was, per usual, very kind when faced with my buffoonery, and just laughed as she shook her head. “A thing. Sounds like him.”

I honestly thought that would be the end of it. It was a good, easy segue into a farewell. She already knew we were leaving, and she knew Spencer well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave me alone for long.

And I think she almost did leave. She almost walked right past me and into the warmth and comfort of a home filled with family and friends. But she didn’t. She stopped and asked me the one question I was really hoping she wouldn’t.

“Are you alright?”

I didn’t want her to ask because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to lie to her. Even if I could have managed it, she would have seen right through me in a second. Not only would it have been an exercise in futility, but she would also know that I thought it was worth it to try to lie.

So, I was honest… quite possibly too honest.

“No, not really. But it’s a lot and I’m kind of drunk, so…”

The mom eyes appeared so quickly, with JJ’s body turning entirely away from the door and over to me. “Not usually a good combination, but an understandable one,” she softly replied, wrapping her arms around herself to make up for the fact that she was sacrificing her comfort in many different ways to talk to me, instead.

She was probably just being nice— staying with me until Spencer could come take over the babysitting of the drunk twenty year old, but I wasn’t exactly thinking critically at the time. Which is only part of the reason why I blurted out the only thing on my mind; the thing that had been haunting me for longer than I wanted to admit even to myself, much less another person.

“Has Spencer ever talked to you about kids?”

The air, still freezing, also fell uncomfortably silent.

“Oh…” she mumbled under her breath, clearly unsure of how to handle that particular minefield of a topic. Especially with her best friend’s girlfriend, who also happened to be drunk. I almost told her to forget about it, but then she looked up at me with a powerful resolve. “Yeah, he has. Why?”

I thought about my next words more carefully, although you wouldn’t have been able to tell considering how much I stuttered.

“Do you think… Do you think he’d be happy if… I can’t have them?” I asked, wringing my hands together over my stomach. “Like, not just happy today, but like ten years from now?” I could hear how desperate I sounded, but I needed someone to hear the words playing on loop in my mind. Absolutely frantic and with tears pooling in my eyes, I asked, “Do you think he’d still love me if I can’t give him kids?”

“(Y/n), slow down. It’s okay!” JJ urged, lunging forward to cup my cheeks and gently wipe away any stray tears. “Don’t cry! You’ll ruin your make up and it looks like you spent a lot of time on it.”

I had to laugh because not only was it my exact brand of humor, she said it with such a serious face that I had to wonder if it was genuinely her biggest concern. Of course, I knew it wasn’t. In her usual JJ way, she just knew the easiest way to cheer me up was with a laugh.

“Yeah, there’s like $80 on my face, it’s really not worth it to cry,” I agreed, sniffling softly when she finally pulled away her hands. At least I could blame that part on the cold.

“Exactly. And if you cry, then I’ll cry, and then I’ll also ruin my make up, and we’ll just be $150 down the drain with nothing to show for it,” she joked with a tired roll of her eyes and a shrug.

Together, we laughed, finding a pocket of warmth in a world that often felt too cold. Behind JJ’s eyes though, I saw an empathy I wasn’t expecting. That small, instinctual part of my brain tugged at my heart, telling me that there was an unspoken bond forming. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know why. I had a feeling that it was one of those secrets you just didn’t ask about, so I let it go.

“Thanks. It’s a stupid thought anyway,” I sighed, shuffling my feet and knocking my heels against the somehow spotless patio. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, so why stress about it, right?”

But then JJ said something I wasn’t expecting. Something that I actually really, really needed to hear.

“I don’t know, I think you’re allowed to be worried. It’s normal to feel scared.”

The sentence hit me like a freight train carrying lead and cement. At first, my brain refused to comprehend it at all. I struggled to repeat the idea, not because I was drunk but because it sounded so wrong. I had wanted it to be true so badly, and here she was, telling me it was okay.

Sensing my simultaneous trepidation and revelation, JJ cringed a bit when she said, “But I think it is a good idea to talk to Spence about it instead of me. Because, to be honest, I’ve also had one too many glasses to be helpful.”

That time when I laughed, it was full-hearted and involved every muscle in my body. “God, I love you, Jennifer,” I said through the noise.

She just shook her head, clearly enjoying the drastic mood swing she’d had a great part in. “I love you, too,” she whispered, running her hand over my shoulder and arm to pull me into a small half-hug. And that was how Spencer found us, giggling and sniffling on Rossi’s porch.

“Hey, are you ready to— Oh! Hey JJ,” he stopped, taking a very hesitant step forward in the hope that we wouldn’t both start crying on the spot. Drunk girls had a tendency to do that. “W-What are you guys doing out here?”

She let me go first, shoving her hand, still damp with my tears, into her pockets with a secretive smile. “Girl talk.”

“That usually doesn’t bode well for me,” Spencer answered with an awkward, nervous laugh. He didn’t make a move to grab me yet, probably too scared to step between the two of us. I was too busy giggling at the thought of his mind cycling through all the possible secrets I might have spilled in my uninhibited state.

I was tipsy, but I wasn’t that drunk.

JJ pulled two fingers over her mouth in a cheeky motion as she whispered, “My lips are sealed.”

“An even worse sign,” Spencer winced, turning to finally wrap his arm around me. He must have noticed the chill on my skin, because seconds later he had me practically wrapped in his coat. “I should just cut my losses and get her out of here, huh?”

“Shut up, old man,” I slurred, cuddling closer to his body heat despite my protests. Even in the darkness, I watched the heat bloom in his face at the nickname. By far, the worst part about the situation was the fact that I couldn’t kiss him, because I just knew he would be so warm, and I was really starting to get cold. I suspect that’s why he started to whisk me away, unceremoniously shushing me as JJ cleared her throat and raised her hand in a wave.

Before we got too far, though, I heard her speak again. “Oh! (Y/n), your questions!”

“What about them?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder and nearly falling to the ground as a result.

JJ looked at me, and then back to Spencer, whose arm was wrapped possessively around me. She smiled a pure, toothy grin that filled her face, causing that weird feeling in my gut to flare up again. She saw something in that moment that I wasn’t sure I’d ever really understand, but her voice started to crack just enough to notice when she called out, “The answer is yes. To all of them.”

—————————————————

The ride back to Spencer’s place was uneventful, though I tried very hard to make it interesting. After the fourth time he'd swatted away my hand and threatened to throw me in the back, I gave in to his demand to behave. I blamed my compliance on the alcohol, although it was probably more so a result of total exhaustion.

The respite from socialization was apparently what I needed to be able to function again, because as soon as we pulled into his apartment parking lot, I was awake.

... Awake enough to try and maul him in the hallway. But, in his sober stubbornness, he continued to evade my advances all the way until his front door clicked shut behind us. His hands on my hips had never felt like such a victory before.

“Did you enjoy wreaking havoc all night?” he whispered, slowly leading us towards his room. I couldn’t see where I was going, but I didn’t need to. Even without an eidetic memory, my body cherished this path and the memories it always led to. I trusted him to catch me if I stumbled. Which, I definitely did.

“I’m the cutest devil you’ll ever see,” I slurred.

“At least you admit it,” Spencer laughed. I couldn’t tell if it was at my words or the fact that I was failing terribly at trying to unbutton his shirt. My drunk self was not a skilled multitasker.

Once I felt the bed against the back of my thighs, I hopped on top of the covers before he could even try to help me up. It was muscle memory. We’d been there before.

“I’m feeling more fallen angel tonight,” I sighed, sliding against the comforter until I found his pillow.

Naturally, Spencer saw the way I gravitated to his side. He smiled as he removed his shirt that I’d left mostly intact. “By all means, feel free to stay that way.”

I probably should have taken off my dress, or my shoes, but I didn’t. The world sort of felt like a wave pool on a sunny day, and I was worried that if I paid too much attention to what was going on around me, I'd think about something I really didn’t want to think about.

I couldn’t remember what it was.

But then Spencer’s hands were gliding up and down my calves, and I shuddered at the contact. He took his time removing my shoes before coming up to join me on all fours. I wondered if he could taste the whiskey on my tongue when he kissed me. Did it remind him of the circumstances that had brought us together? Did it remind him of his hangover and sins?

Did he think of monsters when he kissed me?

My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling lightly to try to keep him there. And when he pulled away, I tried to fight him. I tried to follow him, scared that once the kiss was over, I’d start remembering things I probably should have tried to forget.

He must have seen the denial in my eyes, because he hesitated. His hand came up to lightly grab my wrist and lead my hand that had a death grip on his hair down to his face. “Are you too drunk? Should we stop?”

Throwing my head back with a groan, I tried not to hate him for actually caring about me again. “If you stop right now, I’m going to actually scream,” I droned. It got me a laugh, at least.

“That doesn’t comfort me in the slightest.”

Once I opened my eyes, I found myself wishing I hadn’t. It wasn’t that I saw hesitancy or fear in Spencer’s eyes – on the contrary, it was the lack of anything bad at all that bothered me. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a sincere, pure adoration that I couldn’t argue with.

I chose to ignore it, instead. I couldn’t remember why it made my stomach hurt.

“Are you going to make me do a sobriety test?” I giggled, letting my hands travel down his shoulders and chest. I wasn’t in as much of a rush as I had been earlier. I wanted to take my time remembering what it felt like to be pinned under him and surrounded by his embrace.

“I’m positive that you’ve practiced those while drunk,” he playfully replied while trying to hide the way goosebumps followed my fingers as they trailed down to more interesting territory.

“Yeah, I can say the alphabet backwards and everything.”

It was meant as a joke, but Spencer apparently had some doubts. With a scrunched up smile, he laughed back as he asked, “Really?”

The fact that he believed I was capable of something like that might have been flattering if it hadn't been based on his incredibly flawed perception of my propensity to lawbreaking. But since it was based on ideas of immorality rather than intelligence, it just made me mad.

Smacking him lightly on the chest, I both pouted and laughed as I snapped back, “No, of course not, asshole!”

Spencer just grinned, giving a delayed wince at the offensive contact before he sat up again. I didn’t realize why at first, but as he slowly started to coax me into turning around, I remembered that I was, in fact, still fully dressed. I figured it was either his way of saying that I’d won, or just an excuse to take off the dress so I might actually go to sleep. I was fine with either.

“I was drunk the first night we met, if you’ve forgotten,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side of the bed and moving my hair so that he wouldn’t catch any in the zipper.

“I definitely haven’t forgotten that night.”

The nostalgia in his voice was both comforting and painful. We’d always joked about that night, though. It wasn’t an insult at all.

“No? Do you think about it often?” I replied playfully, forcing myself not to think too hard about whether he wished I was still the girl he'd met that day.

Spencer made it easy to forget, with his hand starting to draw the zipper down while he leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “I think about it all the time.” My breath hitched in my throat at the way his voice warped into a rough, raspy tone. “You almost made me believe that you were just some shy, innocent little girl.”

This time when he got me to turn back over, there was nothing gentle about it. His hands were clearly craving the kind of violence they got to use last time. I wanted to feel them again.

“We can make a new memory if you want,” I panted, looking up at him with wanton eyes and my dress loose enough to expose parts of my breasts to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered at the sight below him. He pressed his erection against my hip as he ran a hand over my cheek. “Tell me the rules.”

“I tell you to stop if I need to,” I carefully enunciated.

“Good girl,” he moaned, starting to rock against me. Struggling to pull my dress off himself, he pleaded in a slightly pitiful manner, “Can I…?”

I helped him, desperate to feel his skin against mine. I didn’t even think about what it meant for my dress to be gone. It wasn’t until Spencer’s mouth dropped to my chest so enthusiastically that I realized that he’d failed to stop and kiss my lips first.

With both hands on my breasts, he lavished each pebbled peak with his fingers and tongue. He hadn’t ever mentioned the fact that he’d missed me shirtless, but it was painfully obvious in the way his lips trailed along my body. It was obvious in the rumbling of his moans against my skin and the way his hands roughly kneaded the soft tissue.

I was forced to remember why I hadn’t let him see me topless.

I felt naked. Not because of the exposed skin, but because I couldn’t warp reality with lace or cotton anymore. My marred stomach might not have made a physical barrier, but it still made him feel so far away. It was a paralyzing kind of realization, and I felt myself retreat so quickly that it hurt.

Thankfully, it was Spencer who was kissing me. If it had been anyone else, I think I would have just laid there, terrified and small and alone. But I couldn’t do that with him.

“Spencer?” I quietly called, and he immediately stopped, his eyes meeting mine with all the attention a girl could ever ask for. I smiled, and the sensation almost felt foreign.

“Come kiss me here instead,” I said with a little giggle, tapping my lips to bring him back to where I wanted him. And he came to me so quickly, his mouth crashing onto mine in seconds and his hands tangling in my hair.

I had forgotten so quickly how easy it was to get lost in him. Thanks to the alcohol, my mind wasn’t able to stick with any thought for longer than a few seconds. Mixing that with Spencer’s hands and mouth, I was never going to be able to think in more than a few words at a time. And I shouldn’t have needed to, right? It was just sex. We’d done it many times before, and it had never been a disappointment. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of mind — some instinctual warning that told me I was doing something wrong.

I wanted him, so what could be wrong about that? There was nothing painful or unappreciated in the way he lined himself up at my entrance, and I certainly made that much clear. It was hard to even hear him over the sound of my own moans, and my nails dug into his shoulder as I guided him into me with my hips.

“I love you,” I cried, wrapping my legs around his waist and digging my heels into the back of his thighs.

“I love you so much, little girl,” he whispered against my lips, his forehead resting against mine.

For a moment, it was okay. The feeling subsided long enough for me to enjoy the fact that Spencer, the man I loved, loved me back. I thought about how long it had taken us to get to this point, and how I never wanted to lose it again. I held onto him for dear life, rocking my hips to meet his and bringing his mouth down to mine.

It was okay, until he spoke again.

“You’re such a good girl,” he groaned into my mouth, “even when you’re being bad you just want to be useful.”

Useful.

The word had come back to haunt me several times in the recent weeks. I hadn’t said anything about it because I couldn’t understand why it bothered me so much. There was no reason for me to be upset. He was just saying what I usually liked to hear.

So why did it hurt?

And I realized then, that the reason that experience felt so horrible wasn’t because of me at all. It was because it was Spencer. It was Spencer, the man I loved. There he was, trying to love me and comfort me and hold me and I…

In a rush of emotions and memories and repressed regrets, I was forced to face the fact that I had made a terrible mistake. The kind of mistake that if I didn’t do something about it in that exact, immediate moment, would become a disaster. The kind of disaster that meant he might never want to touch me again. The kind that would make him hate me. The kind that would make him leave and I couldn’t blame him for.

I had made a mistake.

“Wait, wait, Spencer, stop!” I slurred, my hands that had been holding him close seconds earlier shoving him off of me with the little force I was capable of. It didn’t take much, though, considering how fast he jumped back.

Frantic and terrified, he grabbed my face and tried to inspect my eyes that were avoiding him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t look at him. “No, I just really need to stop,” I muttered, my breath picking up even more as I slid away from him, “Can I just— Can you just give me a minute?”

My hands slid over my chest, trying to hide the shame I felt inside to no avail. Spencer only made it worse in the way he quickly grabbed clothing, covering me in his shirt before he dressed himself. He even took the time to find me pants and help me in them, quietly and carefully. Like a doll.

I was going to be sick.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he croaked brokenly while he curled up at my side, trying to wrap his arms around me before he realized I was shrinking away from his touch. He was so confused. He had no reason to know what was going on, but I could see on his face that he was desperately trying to figure it out.

“Does this have something to do with what you were talking to JJ about?”

An interesting question. I didn’t know the answer.

“Yes. No? Maybe. I guess?” I ran a hand over my face that landed on my throbbing temple. The lack of tears on my face almost surprised me. I probably should have been crying, but I wasn’t. In a way, it felt like I had no tears left to give. When I turned to him, bile rose in my throat and I was afraid that I might choke on it if I didn’t get the words out faster. I just had to tell him. He needed to know.

“Listen, I lied to you. And I need to say something.”

I had just gotten my breathing under control, just in time for his to go erratic. His pulse was visible in his throat as he swallowed. “Lied to me? About what?”

“I…” The world was rocking, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or my brain trying to comprehend my own self-destructive stupidity. I knew which one I was going to blame, though. “Fuck, I didn’t think I was this drunk.”

“What did you lie to me about?” he repeated, his hands gripping handfuls of the sheet in hopes of stopping the rest of his body from trembling.

“Well, I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you.”

It was the most useless clarification, and it did absolutely nothing to appease his concern. The longer the words stayed stuck and muddled in my mouth, the more devastated he seemed. In hindsight, I would realize all the millions of awful reasons his mind must have been feeding him in the absence of the truth.

“Please, whatever it is, just tell me,” Spencer begged with a hesitant, shaky hand coming to rest on top of mine. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, we both looked down at our hands. It was a mercy and a disservice. I just had to tell him, but I couldn’t convince myself to do it without looking him in the eyes. That didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful that he didn’t look back, though. Because once the words were said, there would be no going back from them.

He was going to hate me.

“I… stopped taking my birth control,” I whispered in a voice that felt so foreign. “Like, a while ago.”

Spencer’s jaw steeled, his eyes widening and shooting up to me with the same speed he used to jump off the bed. Despite my efforts to grab him, to stop him from leaving me, he was five feet away in a matter of seconds.

“What?!” he shouted. It was the loudest I’d ever heard him. Even the echoes felt deafening, and my hands covered my ears with a wince.

“Shit! That was loud!” I whined in a pathetic attempt to make him feel bad for me. I didn’t deserve it, but I think it worked. Because the next time he spoke, it was at a more manageable volume.

“What do you mean you stopped taking your birth control?! When?!”

“Stop yelling at me.” I pulled my knees to my chest and ignored the pain in my stomach when I did so. It felt well deserved.

“You aren’t joking, either. Why didn’t you tell me this?” Spencer continued, his hands raking through his hair while he started to pace the room.

Nothing about it felt real. I felt like I was stuck in one of my million recurring nightmares. I just wanted to wake up, to be somewhere other than in a room too small for the bass in his voice. I only barely saw him when he finally approached me. He still stayed a few feet away, but he met my eyes that stared vacantly at the wall ahead of me.

“Answer me!”

Whether it was the order that broke me or the pain in his voice, all of my resolve and apathy shattered at once.

“You’ve always said you wanted to get me pregnant!” I screamed back, digging my nails into my skin in the hope of finding feeling there.

“Not like this! Not right now!” he scoffed. The sound would have hurt more if he hadn't stepped closer to me when he made it.

“Why not?!” I tried to sound angry, but all I heard was the plea beneath the words.

I just want to be useful. Please let me be useful.

“Are you serious?” Spencer’s disbelief was present in every ounce of his existence. His hands were alternating between fists and flat palms, his voice cracking and wavering in pitch. “What has gotten into you? You know that you can’t have a child right now.”

I bit down on my tongue in one final attempt to keep the scary words inside. But he couldn’t feel the way his words felt just like bullets and scar tissue that would never fully heal again.

“You almost died! Do you—“ he choked, but powered through his body’s attempt to stop the thought. “Do you understand the danger that would put you in?”

“I know, alright?! I know!” The words were loud and hoarse, and I covered my own ears to hopefully drown out the sound of failure on my own tongue. “I know I can’t have a fucking kid right now!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

I don’t know. Please, help me.

He waited for my answer, but it stayed trapped in my head. When I started to rock in place, my hands still clamped over my ears and the tears I swore I didn’t have starting to fall, he sighed.

“Get up, we’re going to the store.”

“Why?” I spat, sinking further into my spot in a purely selfish manner.

“Get up,” he said again, this time reaching out for my hand.

But I didn’t want to touch him. I didn’t want him to touch me like this. I was scared that if I did what he wanted, then the fight would be over. And if the fight ended, then what would be left? Was this all just some elaborate ruse to get me in his car so that he could drive me home and leave me there?

His hand touched mine so softly, with so much patience and love that it burned. Why wasn’t he angrier? He should be.

“No!” I screamed, smacking his hand away from me. Although I knew it didn’t hurt, I saw him wince at the contact. His lips flattened as he looked at the stupid sobbing girl on his bed.

Then he left. He turned on his heel, and with less patience that time, grumbled the explanation he'd refused to give before. “We’re going to the store and getting levonorgestrel so that you don’t make the stupidest mistake of your life.”

It wasn’t the words that got me to move, but the fact that he was quickly leaving the room. I scrambled after him recklessly, crashing into just about every stationary object in the way. The shock had hit me so hard that I forgot I was still drunk.

“Is it really that awful to imagine having a future with me?” I sobbed, chasing after him just to crash into him when he stopped.

He still caught me, but I couldn’t tell you why.

“You know that’s not what this is about.” He sounded so tired, but he kept going. He kept fighting with me even though I could see in his eyes that it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I love you, (y/n)! But you’re acting like… like a child!”

“Fuck you,” I seethed, pushing myself away from him.

I was scared that if I didn’t force our bodies apart, I would have fallen to pieces in his arms again. And I knew he would try to put me back together again. He would try to help me because that’s what he always did. But sometimes things are just completely, irrevocably broken. Sometimes there was simply no fixing it.

Good luck convincing Spencer of that.

“I don’t need this shit and I don’t need to go to the store,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way back into the bedroom to locate my purse that I’d so gracefully thrown on the floor.

“(Y/n), just because the chances of pregnancy are low doesn’t mean they are nonexistent, and I’m not going to be the reason you throw your life away! You said yourself you aren’t ready to be a housewife!” I heard him rambling from the other room. Eventually, he followed the sounds of plastic packaging and rustling paper.

“Shut up,” I groaned, finally getting the tiny pill free and successfully shoving it in my mouth before I managed to drop it. “Just leave me alone, Spencer.”

Obviously, it wasn’t going to work. After all, I was in his apartment, and currently sitting cross legged in the middle of his bedroom and trying to dry swallow a pill that tasted a lot like every mistake I’d ever made.

“When did you buy that? And why do you have it with you?” He didn’t sound angry at all anymore. He didn’t even particularly sound annoyed or confused, just… exhausted.

“You’re welcome for saving you the drive.”

Of all the things he could have done, he chose the one I expected the least. He came to me, and carefully lowered himself to the ground in front of me. At first, that was all he did. He just sat across from me with puppy dog eyes and an awkward posture.

“Look at me,” he called gently.

“I don’t want to.”

He sighed, waiting another second to catch his breath and let the earlier emotions settle in the air. “You had that in your purse. Why?” he asked as he reached forward to grab the remnants of the torn up box and confirm that it was what he thought it was. Once he was satisfied, he just sounded even more broken. “You’ve clearly thought about it enough to plan ahead, but apparently I wasn’t important enough to have a say in any of these decisions.”

The pain that was forming in my stomach hurt worse than the AR-15.

“Were you just… Just planning on making those decisions without even telling me?” He was on the verge of tears, though he tried his very best to hide it. It might’ve worked if I'd been both drunk and an idiot, but unfortunately the adrenaline was combatting the alcohol pretty well at that point.

With both hands covering his face, I could still see the way his jaw tensed between the words. “It would be my child, too,” he forced out, “You don’t— You don’t get to make those decisions without me. T-That’s not fair.”

The sounds were so pitiful, and I wanted to feel anything but what I felt. I wanted to feel angry or sad again, but I couldn’t. All I felt was hate; the most powerful, soul crushing self-loathing imaginable.

I didn’t want to be the reason he cried. I wanted it to stop, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t control myself. I just kept rubbing salt in the wound so he would leave. So that I could hate him for leaving me instead of hating myself for making him.

“There’s no kid. I would’ve taken it either way.”

That succeeded in getting a response.

“Then what was the point of any of this?!” he fumed, dropping his hands to gestured to the state of us, dressed in pajamas and tears. “If you really believe that, then why tell me? Why risk it at all?!”

“I don’t know.”

“I deserve a better answer than that. That’s bullshit and you know it,” he demanded with an accusing finger.

But I didn’t know that it was bullshit. Really, it was the truth. I didn’t know why I was doing this. All I knew was that if I stopped, if I was just honest with him, I would have to face a reality I wasn’t ready for.

“I deserve the truth,” he said as his hand fell, unable to stay up under the weight of the feeling behind it.

I looked at him and I saw my mistakes in the form of tears trickling down his cheeks and a tremble in his lips. I saw a man who deserved nothing but the greatest love, begging me to give him something to work with. He wasn’t asking me for the world — he just wanted me to talk. To say something so that he could understand why I wanted him to hate me.

I didn’t have an answer. Not one that either of us would believe, anyway.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spencer.” My lips moved without my permission, and my legs quickly followed the traitorous pursuit.

“What does that mean?” he begged me as he followed me. He followed me like he always did, with that suffocating hopefulness that we could make it.

But what if I couldn’t? What if this was it for me? What if, in my desperate desire to push him away, I was saving him from a miserable life with me?

I was trying to save him.

“It means…” I paused, turning to look him in the eyes so that he might finally hear what he needed to in my answer. “It means you should’ve picked a different 20 year old to fuck.”

His jaw finally relaxed, dropping open with a broken breath.

And I think he saw it. I think he saw the way I meant the words from the bottom of my soul. He heard me tell him that he should regret me while I tried to walk away, and he knew that I meant it.

“I’m leaving.” The words surprised me when I heard them in my own voice, but I followed them, nonetheless. I barreled towards the door with bare feet and my keys in my hand.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave like this.” His statements were logical, but that only served to further piss me off.

“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not your property!”

That wasn’t why I was angry. We both knew that wasn’t why. The real reason, the truth behind the reckless self-destruction was approaching too fast and I couldn’t slow it down. Nothing could stop it from rushing down the predetermined path that we stood on, and I was begging him to get off the tracks.

“If you leave right now, you’re going to fucking kill yourself!”

And then it happened. Practically foaming at the mouth with the unhinged rage that had been boiling underneath my skin for too long, I finally managed to let the words go.

“Maybe that’s the fucking point!”

Silence had never been so loud. It had never been that heavy.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that, Spencer?” I laughed because there was no reason in my mind not to. It all seemed so terribly obvious and we’d been skirting around it for so long. Why were we pretending like this was news? Like we hadn’t heard the horns and seen the headlights approaching?

“Please stop.” It was said like a plea but meant as an order. But I never listened to directions and he already knew that.

“I’m not your problem just because you were unfortunate enough to fall in love with me,” I continued, finding a freedom in being able to finally say what I’d been thinking all along. “Put me out of my fucking misery, Spencer. Just let me go.”

“Stop!” he shouted, pulling fistfuls of his hair as his chest heaved with deep, rasping breaths. I’d heard that voice from him before, but only once. The memories were locked away in the part of my brain that I swore to leave locked up.

I was back in the bank. I could feel his hands slipping in blood on my stomach and pressing into my cheeks. I was in the ambulance again. His hands were so warm that they burned, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to leave. I'd had one foot in the grave then. I felt like I was still there, teetering over the edge with nothing but Spencer’s frantic breathing and desperate begging keeping me from jumping in.

“Stop saying that!” Spencer ordered, his hands letting go just enough to come back down on his head with some force. I jumped at the contact and wondered when I'd started feeling his pain, too. I wondered when we'd found ourselves back in his apartment again.

“Y-You aren’t going to die!” He continued. It didn’t have the force of an order or the pathetic breaking of a cry. It was just a statement he was trying to will into existence. An attempt to ward off memories that reminded him he was capable of losing me. He had already almost lost me once. In a way, it was this same scenario.

It was just that he wasn’t losing me quickly from a gunshot wound. No, I was bleeding out in an entirely different way.

“You can’t— I can’t lose you. I can’t do it again,” he sobbed, falling to his knees and not caring at all about the bruises that would follow. The sight of him collapsing in on himself was terrifying, and I realized for the first time the true consequences of my actions. I couldn’t pretend that I was trying to save him anymore. I couldn’t listen to the congested, barely comprehensible ramblings of a man begging me not to want to die and act like I was thinking of him at all.

I was being selfish. How very much like me.

“Please, anything but that. You can hate me forever, but please don’t…” The words trailed off, and I felt compelled to answer them. I needed something to release the knot in my chest and allow my lungs to fill again.

“I don’t hate you, Spencer. I could never hate you.” The words were infuriating in their honesty, but he needed to hear them. He needed to know that none of this was his fault, that he’d done nothing wrong other than meet me.

I couldn’t leave him like that. He deserved so much better than me, but that was all that I had. So, I climbed down next to him, reaching out to him and hoping that he would hold me back.

To my surprise, he did. His hands grabbed mine like they were a lifeline, bringing them to his lips wet with tears. And although he was silent, I could hear the way he prayed that they wouldn’t fade away from him again.

“I-I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you. I’m supposed to be the adult here, I’m supposed to know how to fix these things, but I have no idea what I’m doing, (y/n).”

It was an admission Spencer didn’t often make. The complete helplessness and inability to fix the puzzle before him didn’t just hurt because it was painful to watch, it was also just another reminder of his limits.

One time he had promised me that he wouldn’t let anything hurt me. I should have told him that it was a stupid promise to make then. I should have showed him the skeletons in my closet and the mess in my hands.

But it didn’t matter anymore. He had already seen it, and it was too late. I’d made too many mistakes, and I had to face them. I couldn’t run away anymore. That meant listening to Spencer, pouring his heart out to me and clutching my hands like they would turn to nothing in front of him.

“You’re falling apart and you won’t talk to me. I don’t know how to make this stop hurting. I don’t know how to help you. Sometimes you’re so happy but other times I can see it in your eyes…”

Our eyes met, unguarded, for the first time in what felt like hours but was actually probably only a few minutes. We looked into each other’s eyes and tried to read each other’s minds. I didn’t know what he saw, but I heard the way it struck him.

“Do you… Do you want to leave me?” he asked.

And I realized then, that was what my behavior was leading up to. That was what my mind was racing towards, without ever considering whether it was what was best for me. Because I wasn’t thinking about what was best for me, or what I wanted, or what I should want. All I cared about was the same concern Spencer had for me— I didn’t want him to throw his life away just to be with me.

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

Spencer heard something in my question that brought life back to his eyes. I wished that I could hear his thoughts because he always seemed so much farther ahead. Like he could see the immediate future and knew what would follow.

Then again, maybe I was just idealizing him. I had a tendency to do that. He wasn’t a superhero. He was just a man, trying his best in a world that never really let him rest. I certainly didn’t help with that.

“No. No, that’s not what I want at all,” he said, his hands finding the courage to let go of mine and slide up my arms. He cupped my face with such an urgency and relief that it almost felt the same as before I had uttered those terrifying words. “I told you I want to marry you and I wasn’t kidding.”

It only took a few words for any progress and vulnerability to be obliterated. Four words. That’s all it took.

I want to marry you.

A white picket fence is what I’d promised him. I'd painted a vivid image of us with two children that were just like him. A normal, domestic life is what I’d said.

I hadn't known. I'd made a mistake. I had lied.

“Stop fucking saying that!” I wished the fight would leave my body and let my weary muscles rest, but it kept coming back. Sure as the sun rises in the morning, I couldn’t let go of the hatred. It had to go somewhere, and Spencer continued to be the stupid, stubborn man putting himself in front of me without any defenses.

I don’t think he was expecting that, though. He jumped back at the sound, his hands bracing his fall as I flailed to get away from him. I didn’t have the energy or coordination to stand, so I just let myself fall to pieces on the floor in front of him.

“Stop telling me about this future you have planned for us b-because I’m a useless, idiotic fuck up, and it’s freaking me the fuck out!”

Naturally, the only thing that could incense Spencer more than violating his trust was, apparently, talking badly about myself. Because as soon as he heard the words, he was wound up just the same.

“What are you so afraid of?!”

Without thinking about the words, implications, or consequences, I gave him the answer he fought for. I gave it to him because I couldn’t hold it any longer. I gave it to him and hoped that it would grant me the closure he sought, too.

“That I won’t ever be able to give you a baby and you’re going to fucking leave me!”

Spencer, in all his shock and disbelief, could only utter back a single, exasperated, “…What?” The way the word fell out of his mouth almost sounded like a laugh, the side of his lips curling into an almost imperceptible smile.

“I’m scared that when I stop being useful to you, you’re going to leave me like everyone else,” I explained, my voice as small as I felt in that moment.

But Spencer, in his uncanny ability to predict the future, was trying not to smile. Don’t get me wrong — he wasn’t laughing at me, and the words certainly brought him no joy. But there was something else buried beneath the suffering.

“Come here,” he requested with a sad, small grin and a wave of his hand. When he saw the hesitance on my face, he beckoned me closer again with more feeling. “I want to talk to you. Come here.”

So I came. I came as close to him as I could. And as I practically sat in his lap, I remembered how much easier it was to breathe when he held me, and how much lighter the tears felt when he wiped them a way.

“Why do you think I’m going to leave you?” he asked through a chuckle, like the very notion was so unbelievable that it couldn’t be uttered as anything other than a joke.

“Y-You want kids,” I mumbled, looking down at our t-shirts wet with tears. I played with the hem of his to remind myself that we were both still there. And although Spencer sympathized, he didn’t seem too keen on me looking away at that particular moment. With a gentle finger under my chin, he guided my eyes back to his.

“Okay. So do you, right?”

“Well, yeah…” I paused and pursed my lips and bit down on the bottom one. I waited until he raised his eyebrows in a challenge before I explained. “But what if I can’t have any?”

Spencer’s face scrunched up with his shoulders in a dismissive shrug, “There are other ways to have kids. I’m not worried about that at all.”

Just like that, he’d waved away my fears of inadequacy and failure like they were smoke from an already snuffed out candle. He made it so clear so quickly that biology wasn’t the thing that mattered. That it wasn’t my genetics or physical traits that made him want to share a literal life with me.

Spencer didn’t need me to have his children; he just wanted me to raise some with him.

“Why are you worried about that? Did something happen?” he pressed forward, unsatisfied with the idea that I might still be carrying some heaviness without his assistance.

“The doctor told me that I might not ever be able to have my own kids and I just...”

I should have known better than to doubt the insistence of his greedy hands. They would never let a burden belong solely to me. And I… didn’t want to bear the weight alone anymore, either. The dam was broken, and my heart came rushing out into his waiting arms.

“I’m so tired of it, Spencer. I’m tired of this stupid shit stealing my life away from me. You’ve been taking care of me for months, a-and the way you look at me sometimes-- I can see it on your face. I can feel the way it hurts you just to look at me.”

That hurt flashed in his eyes right then but faded with a swiftness I hadn’t seen in a long time. He didn’t want me to see it yet. One fight at a time, I heard him think. When this shifted load balanced between us again, we could figure the rest out.

First, we had to settle this. It had to end.

“If I can’t give you children, and I can’t... I can’t make you happy then—“

“Stop,” he demanded, his finger coming up to cover my lips. There was no argument to be made at his protest. With a deathly seriousness veiled with bowed brows and a lip that still trembled, Spencer whispered to me, “You can feel however you want to, but you don’t get to decide how I feel.”

Tears welled in both of our eyes, threatening to fall with the other. But they didn’t, they stayed pooled at our lashes and drowned us in visions of haloed lights and blurry reflections.

“I am so happy with you. No matter what. Every second of every day. Do you understand me?”

The only answer I had the strength to give was my surrender. Collapsing forward into his arms, I buried my face into his shoulder. I reveled in the warmth of his chest and the strength of his hands on my back. I felt his heartbeat against my cheek as the deep, joyful breaths he took in came out as relieved laughter.

“I love you, (y/n).”

He must have heard, or at least felt, my soft groan in response, because he peeled me off of him with a smirk. “What’s wrong now?” he asked in an equally tired whine.

“You only use my name when you’re angry or sad,” I grumbled through a pout. It only felt a little silly, to joke about something so stupid minutes after screaming our hearts at each other. We were just so tired, and the finish line was in sight. We just wanted to cross it together, and preferably with less tears involved.

Spencer didn’t say any of that, but I felt it, nonetheless. It was clear in the way he pushed my hair from my face before running his fingers down my jaw. “I use your name when I’m worried,” he corrected. “And you scared me tonight. I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling this way.”

We were toeing the line back into heavy emotions, and I shook my head to ask him not to take me back there tonight. But I couldn’t blame him at the same time. He’d so gracefully handled all of my fears and rage; he deserved a chance to voice his own. They’d fallen so far behind in the race towards the truth.

“I understand you were scared to tell me, but...” he stopped, trying to find a way to explain it without hurting my feelings. He really was too nice to me.

“I know. It was stupid. I feel terrible,” I finished for him. Once my face hit his shoulder again, I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer,” I said with almost all of the energy I had left. He stroked soothing patterns over my back, and after a moment I realized that we’d started to rock. I wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or mine.

“I appreciate your apology, but please promise me that you’ll talk to someone about this,” he humbly requested, his words muffled in my hair.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?”

It was almost a joke. Spencer wasn’t going to let it go, though. “Don’t try to be clever with me, little girl. I need you to talk to someone who knows how to help you,” he playfully scolded.

Through a yawn and a chuckle, I pressed on in my attempt to end the night on a horrible joke. “Isn’t that your whole job?”

“Yeah, I guess it is sometimes, huh?” he agreed halfheartedly. Really, he was only trying to give me a little bit of a win. We both knew his job wasn’t very good at helping people before the fact. It was just another poor attempt at avoiding healing. I had been holding on to that anger so tightly that there wasn’t room for us in the space that was left.

“But I think you also know I can’t be that person for you,” Spencer eloquently said, cradling my head as it started to rock with each motion.

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, “I promise.”

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but no matter what, it wouldn’t have lasted long enough. The rhythm of his heart evened out over time, settling into the lullaby I needed to finally find some rest. But realistically, we couldn’t sleep there. Spencer was kind enough to practically carry me back into the bed we had shared when this all started, although this time he laid beside me.

From there, he helped tuck me in and pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead. My eyes were closed, but the smile that spread over my cheeks was enough of a signal that I was still awake.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

My bloodshot eyes opened at his call, and I found love staring back at me. I knew he could see my eyes bouncing back and forth as I tried to see all of it at once in his eyes, and I didn’t care. Even when he kissed me, neither of us closed them.

“We don’t have to worry about anything,” he said as our mouths broke apart. His thumb swept over my cheeks to all the places I knew he was thinking about kissing. There was a very poor attempt to hide his smile at the thought of the future, but I appreciated the effort he put in.

“When you’re ready to try to have kids, I’ll be right there with you,” he said.

It was clear that Spencer really wanted it to be a meaningful sentiment, but I was still a little bitter at his failure to laugh at my previous terrible jokes. So when I saw the opportunity, I took it swiftly and with no regrets.

“I sure hope so, or else I don’t think it’ll work,” I muttered through the side of my mouth before turning onto my back.

Spencer’s first carefree giggle of the night was my prize, and I couldn’t have loved it any more. “That’s my little girl,” he cooed, curling up against my side and wrapping a possessive arm over my chest.

Just before my eyes fluttered shut, I saw movement below my face. I kept them open long enough to see his pinky presented to me and a knowing look in his eyes. “Everything will be alright as long as we have each other,” Spencer offered.

And despite our bad history with promises, I had no reasons left to doubt that one.

—————————————————

| Part 21 |

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #h2m #spencer reid self insert #angst #smut

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

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Dreams, Chapter 11

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 11

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2616

Summary: Another dream makes things more clear for the reader and less clear for Sam.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w b u r n

The booths are those plastic-coated pressboard swoops that are so easy to clean, one row down either side of the long room once you walk past the counter to order. Like other pizza places, there are red pepper flakes and grated parmesan on the table, but they also keep ranch dressing in a minifridge behind the counter as a concession to Midwestern sensibilities. You know you’re just outside Dayton just like you know the pizza shop is run by a family, father and two older teenage daughters deftly throwing dough and scattering cheese evenly over it in a way that shows their years of practice. Dean sits across the table with his elbows on it, one forefinger and thumb picking through a plate of nachos between you. His black t-shirt, amulet, and lack of flannel make you notice the hum of the air conditioner in the background, straining over the 90’s alternative radio and reminding you that you’d been here in a heat stroke the summer after you and Dean had gotten together, his golden freckles and lightened tips of his slightly messy hair underlining the memory.

“They don’t serve nachos here.” It’s half statement and half question.

“Babe, it’s your dream. They’ll serve whatever you want. Does the pizza suck in Wisconsin or something?”

The two sisters are whispering to each other as they look over at your table, an almost-argument that ends with who you suspect is the older sister poofing a pinch of flour into the other’s face. They’re both cute girls but she’s adorable, soft cherubic cheeks and messy bun piling impossibly glossy hair on her head as she walks over to the table with a gigantic pizza. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks in a perfect welcoming cheerleader pitch.

“I think we’re good for now, sweetheart,” Dean purrs with a wink. That you remember; you’d playfully chastised Dean for dazzling the teens, laughing in his face when he’d said it wasn’t on purpose, that he couldn’t help it if chicks dug him. The wink had proved your point then and now it makes the girl’s cheeks flush red.

She catches herself remarkably well, the stammer almost slipping under the radar as she assures you that you can “holler if you need anything!”

Dean brushes his fingers free of nacho debris and loosens a piece of pizza from the melting cheese of the ones next to it. “Last time you had all kinds of sweet nothings and questions for me and now you’re Silent Cal?”

“I don’t think this is real, but I’m pretty sure if I push it you’ll either die in this dream or I’ll wake up, so my plan is to stay here as long as we can.”

He drops the pizza back into the box and wipes off his fingers on a napkin before slouching into the booth, arm stretched across its length. “So test me then. Gimme a question only I would know or something.”

“Well if I ask you something that I know the answer to, my brain will just project you knowing it. See the problem?”

Dean squints and pouts in consideration, touch of a smile dancing across his face and if it isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen may you be struck dead right now. “Then ask me something you don’t know the answer to.”

You think about explaining how that too could just be some part of your subconscious recreation of Dean but you don’t want to keep pulling at loose strings in the event that it wakes you up. It’s too hard to keep from smiling, seeing Dean charming and relaxed like this, and when you grin it makes Dean bite his lip. “What’s something I don’t know the answer to?”

“Ah, ah—I thought I’m just a hologram, how would I know?”

“Projection, but okay,” you stall. “Wait, here’s one. Sam said when I first started going on jobs with you guys that you had to have a conversation about staying focused. What was that all about?”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. “Man, why would he tell you that?” he says under his breath, smirking mostly to himself before leaning forward to meet your eyes. “Fine. I’m not even sure that you’re going to remember this. There was a vengeful spirit in Indiana, some like homesteader guy, ring a bell?”

You have only the vaguest sense of recollection and sort of waggle your head to show it.

“It was way at the beginning of when you started coming on jobs with us. You and Bobby got into it because he wanted you to bring your own car so you could ditch us if we were ‘acting like cretins’ or some shit like that?”

That fits the last puzzle piece in for you and makes you chuckle. “He ended up giving me like $250 of mad money in case I needed a new room or a bus ticket, yeah. I remember.”

“I didn’t know that part but that’s gotta be the same trip. The whole thing was really stupid. Basically we were supposed to have your six but both me and Sammy wanted to carry a shotgun instead of doing that protection spell because it looked cooler. We were arguing about it when the spirit whipped a chunk of the barn’s scaffolding at you and we didn’t catch it in time. You heard it coming and ducked so nothing ended up happening, but it fucking demolished the wall behind you. It was a huge fuckup—thing could’ve taken your head clean off, you know? Sam was so broken up about it he was wasted for like a week solid after we dropped you back off at Bobby’s.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“I know, usually he does some kind of pouty baby bullshit. But I mean both of us felt really guilty that bitching at each other could’ve taken you out.”

Dean’s eyes rake over your face, seeming to linger over every inch like he’s going to draw a topographical map of it later by memory. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something but you can’t think of anything other than tracing each of his freckles where they dust across his nose.

A hand reaches over the table to run his fingertips along the back of yours, and that certainly feels real enough to send an ache into your gut. “What if you ask Sam? If he says that’s not what happened then you can keep saying I’m not real and you don’t have to listen to me.”

“But he already basically told me that. The only thing I probably wouldn’t have guessed about that is Sam getting drunk about it—these could’ve been just well-informed guesses about when it probably was or the kinds of things it seemed like he was implying.”

His lips press into a firm line and the barest touch of pink rises in his cheeks. “We, um, we pinky swore on it.”

The adorableness of his embarrassment makes you grin teasingly as much as the divulgence does. “A pinky promise? You guys must’ve been pretty serious to take such a sacred oath.”

He rolls his eyes at your ribbing and throws his hands back in his lap with a defeated smirk. “Laugh it up. Would that be good enough proof for you?”

It seems like Dean has figured out a loophole in the system, but you’re sure the light of day and Sam’s scrutiny will figure out why it isn’t actual evidence of communication with Dean beyond death, and you tell him that.

A curtain of suspicious confusion falls over Dean’s face. “Sam being weird about it is what’s keeping you from trusting this? Kid, I’ve been talking to Sa—”

And you woke up.

The bed was empty next to you but you could smell something sweet in the air and hear the light clinking of pots or pans Sam was trying his best to keep quiet. You blinked back a few tears of frustration—who even cared if it was real or not? Reliving a great memory with Dean was more than enough and instead of enjoying it you’d wasted a chance at some small respite from your constant ache of grief. And even then, you hadn’t used any of your time to figure out how the whole thing worked, how you could see him again.

But the most pressing issue was what you thought Dean had been trying to say before disappearing; that he had gotten through to Sam. Sam, of course, deserved to have secrets, but if he had been sitting on the resolution to all the angst you’d been struggling through in the last weeks (months?), you couldn’t imagine a reason why that wouldn’t hurt. Nothing would be solved by laying in your bed to sulk about it, though, so you threw on some clothes and went to brush your teeth.

When you came out, Sam was hunched slightly, the standard stove highlighting his decidedly non-standard height as he shuffled a pan’s handle. He had a dishtowel over his t-shirt clad shoulder, a habit from the bar that sometimes held over when he was in the kitchen at home, and bare feet under old jeans. They were wearing through at the knees, and you knew they were absolutely pajama-soft from having periodically thrown them in with your own laundry. Through the kitchen window, enough snow-brightened sunlight came into the room to cast him in a halo glow that gleamed off of his hair. As long as it had gotten, chunks still swept into his face as he looked down at the stove, and he tucked one behind his ear as he looked up, half-singing a Buddy Guy song that was playing softly. It was stunning—he was stunning, statuesque and strong and right there in front of you. Cooking you breakfast while you slept in, of all things, chocolate chip pancakes he had to have remembered were your favorite from ages ago. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had them and right now, nothing in the world sounded better. He beamed and tilted the pan toward you. “Morning! I made pancakes, you want some?”

And you should’ve just let the moment rest, sat in the rare bright winter morning and eaten chocolate chip pancakes and relished how well the boiler was working, maybe later in the day read a predictable murder mystery or taped off the living room to be painted and listened to REM until your shoulders were sore from running rollers up the walls all afternoon. Instead, about as stupid and weird a flop as if a toad had come out of your mouth, you said, “Have you been talking to Dean too?”

Sam’s face fell but not in the right way. There was too much angle in his brow and that confirmed it. “What?” he asked, but it didn’t land.

“How long have you been talking to Dean?”

He kept that curious smile for a second, like maybe he could push through by playing dumb and you would forget, but finally his lips flattened and his jaw clenched as he stacked a finished pancake on top of its predecessors. “Just because I’m having dreams about him doesn’t mean it’s really him,” he finally answered, softly and as though he was telling the bubbling pancake batter in front of him, unable to meet your eyes.

You felt the lump forming in your throat and tried to get the words out ahead of its solidifying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“For what?” He let go of the pan and turned toward you, supporting his weight on the countertop. “So we can both—”

“Both what? Be delusional? Is that what you were going to say?”

Sam didn’t answer, but the set of his jaw was firm and he kept his eyes locked on yours.

“He told me you were drunk for a week after the hunt you were talking about.” You watched as Sam’s pupils widened a touch. “And that you didn’t just promise each other to buckle down, you pinky swore.” Sam’s Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. “It’s true, isn’t it? I can see in your face that it is. Did you already know it’s really him?”

He looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw. “I was pretty sure. Or at least I really hoped I was pretty sure.”

You felt more than consciously allowed your mouth’s falling open. “How? How long?”

“It just—I don’t know, it just felt different. I—uh, the first time was after we made those cupcakes; he asked about the cupcakes.”

You slumped against the countertop opposite him, speechless. He shoved the pan off the hot burner a little too hard, put a palm on either side of the stove to brace himself. The two of you stood like that for a long minute, the smell of chocolate not matching the stiff heaviness in the air at all.

“I don’t—what if it’s not real?” His throat sounded bound even though you couldn’t see his face, hulking mass of him spread across the tiny kitchen.

He seemed so defeated, so young, and then you couldn’t believe how selfish you’d been, not putting two and two together that something challenging Sam’s grip on or understanding of reality must shove him back to the brain melting torture he’d endured in the cage and the months—years, maybe, he was always so tight-lipped about it—afterward. What the fuck were you thinking, not seeing it before, how this could seem like a perfectly laid trap for Sam, the most poetic way to whip his mind into stiff peaks of meringue. It made so much sense why he would need time to really suss it out, see the situation from all angles and investigate, check and re-check. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away. This was not about you or your complicated need for him, it was about Sam, what he’d been through, what he was likely putting himself through even now.

“The, um, the pancakes smell really good.”

“Yeah?” There was half a laugh behind his words, humorless as it was. “I hope they’re okay, I know they’re your, uh, your favorite.”

“I’m surprised you remembered.”

Sam leaned on one arm to rub his face with his other hand. “Yeah, well.”

“Can I help?”

After a beat, he stood up and offered some space next to him on the stove. You worked hip to hip, sprinkling the chocolate chips while Sam flipped. He was scraping the last of the batter into a last little runt pancake with a spatula when you couldn’t help yourself and wrapped your arms around his waist. He seemed surprised, if sad, before setting down the bowl and covering as much of you as he could, folding over you like a protective shell. It reminded you of that dirty motel room, months and months ago, when Sam held you together as you cracked in his arms. All he could do then was be steadfast in reminding you he was still there, if nothing else was, and you hoped you were able to give him the same now.

You silently laid two place settings on the kitchen counter while Sam set the food out. He sat next to you and had picked up his fork when you touched his wrist to still him. “If it’s not real for you then I’m losing it too.”

Sam thought for a second, then raised his forearm and kissed the back of your hand where you held onto him before cutting into his pancakes.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 12

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