COOLSVILLE ─── Dean Winchester

cuteee

Stormy Weather in The Lanes - Vander X Reader

It's been a long week, and you and Vander are finally able to have some alone time, that is until it starts to thunderstorm...

SFW: this boutta be fluffier than that your softest throw blanket you bring out for the holidays

CW: ok, maybe a little pain (storm triggering PTSD)

A/N: i did some digging and Zaun DOES have access to the sky i believe, it's just that the gas and fog covers it the deeper you go down (at least that's what the league website implies)

Work, bartending, caring for the kids, and keeping the fragile peace of the Lanes. That's almost all you see him do. However, this is what you signed up for when you decided to pursue none other than the Hound of the Underworld himself. Although, this doesn't change the fact that you wished for more time just for the two of you, so tonight was especially special, since you actually had him to yourself, almost like the old days, when there wasn't so much conflict, when the two of you were able to stay out all night, like the night you both watched the Undercity lights from the roof.

The night he promised you he would always keep you safe and sealed that promise with a kiss.

You find your thought lingering wistfully in the past when you hear the door open. "This week has been far too long'", Vander sighs as he removes his jacket. You rise from the chair you were seated at and greet him at the door. "At least it's over", You reply, taking his jacket. "For now," he replies. "Until tomorrow."

"So let tomorrow's problems be for tomorrow," You stated. You take his hand and yours and place a gentle kiss upon it.

A smile creeps across his face at this gesture, and his hand slips from yours to caress your face.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" He says as you watch him. "Far too long", you reply, as you close the distance between the two of you until your lips touch. As you kiss him, you feel his arms wrap you in a tight embrace.

Oh, how you've missed this.

"The kids are all alseep", You whisper into his ear

"Now that's what I like to hear," he says with a smile.

You lead him by the hand to the bedroom, and soon enough, the both of you are wrapped in each others arms under the sheets. You feel his hand rub your back as you rest in his arms, which makes you hold him tighter to you. His arms were the safest place in the world, that was something you never let him forget.

The two of you basked in each other's company, reveling in every minute you could, when you both saw a flash of light, followed by a loud peal of thunder.

"Terrific," Vander sighs, his free hand rubbing his face in frustration.

You lift your head up. "What's wrong?"

"Well," He replies, "we're about to have company..."

"How so?" You tilt your head slightly, confused.

"Give it a minute."

No sooner then a minute after he told you, you hear a small knock at the bedroom door.

The door creaks open, and you turn around from Vander's arms to see a nervous Powder, standing by the doorway.

"Can-can I stay with you guys? Um-the outside is...a little scary-"

Before she could finish her sentence, another flash of lightning flickers through the room, causing Powder to flinch, rush over, and jump into the bed, quickly covering her ears before the rolling thunder cracked afterward.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there! It's ok, it's ok," Vander consoles the shaking child, who was now clinging to his shirt.

"Poor girl," you thought as you watched Vander calm Powder's nerves. "Her and her sister have gone through so much."

"I know it sounds all big and scary, kid," Vander continues, "But it's all bark, it won't hurt you."

The nervousness in Powder's eyes slowly began to fade as she listened to Vander's words. "Could...could I still stay here?" She requests. She then turned her gaze to you with pleading eyes. "Please?"

Vander's subtly looked towards you, wondering your response, studying your reaction. He knew his response would always be yes, but he wasn't sure if you felt the same. After all, you've barely seen him in weeks.

You look down at Powder and smile. "Of course you can, my little Blueberry," You say, pinching her cheek playfully. "As long as you aren't bothered by that one's snoring!"

"What do you mean I snore??" Vander retorts while Powder giggles at the two of you.

"Quite loudly, I might add," You continue, then proceed to poorly imitate your partner snoring to Powder's amusement.

"Ha ha, very funny," Vander shakes his head, yet he help but to chuckle as he lies back down.

You hold Powder close to you as the rain starts to pour, humming to keep her distracted from the storm. To your relief, she begins to drift off to sleep once again.

"I'm starting to think you're her favorite," Vander whispers, watching the two of you. More thunder rolls, and you feels Powder's arms tighten around you. "It's ok, sweetie, no storm's gonna get you while we're here."

As Powder drifts off to sleep, you notice Vander looking over at the door. Before you ask him why, you start to hear the sound hushed arguing outside the door.

"Are you gonna knock or what?"

"Why do I have to be the one who knocks? You're the one who's scared, you knock!"

"N-no, I'm not!"

"Mylo it's obvious-"

"Shut up, Vi! And besides why are you two here as well if you aren't so scared?"

"I-I'm just checking to see where Powder is..."

"I just wanted a drink of water..."

You and Vander stifle laughter while you listen to the three kids bicker outside of the door.

Another flash of lightning followed by a loud clap of thunder fills the air.

Suddenly, the door flings open, and Mylo and Vi rush into the room, leaving Claggor at the door holding a small flashlight.

"Sorry," Claggor said. "They both got scared of the storm-"

"Claggor!" Mylo hissed.

"That's not true!" Vi retorts. "I-I just wanted to check where Powder wa-"

A flash of lightning cuts her sentence off and causes Mylo to flinch, but no thunder was heard.

There was silence for a moment as the rain pattered on the roof.

"I told you guys," Claggor broke the silence. "Not scary at all. Could someone help me with the water hose at the ba-?"

Before the poor boy could finish his question, there was a thunder peal so tremendous it was as though it shook the building.

That was the last staw for Mylo and Vi, who were now huddled in the bed, Vi shielding her sister, who was woken up by the commotion.

"Enforcers!" Mylo whimpered, tears forming in his eyes. "They're using the storm as cover!"

"Easy there, kiddo," Vander hums. "You're safe. It was just noise.

"But how can you be sure -"

"Hey now, it's ok," Vander interjected, gently pulling a now sniffing Mylo into his arms. " You're safe. I mean it. I'd never let that happen to any of you. Not again. Never again."

You shift over the two girls so that your arms can hold both of them. "We won't let that happen to any of you," you said.

Vander takes a moment to calm down Mylo, then leaves to help Claggor get some water. While the two of them leave, you hear Claggor ask Vander, "Do you think I could stay with you guys as well?"

You smile as you hear Vander reply, "Sure you can, kid," with a chuckle.

busted

author's note: I've been doing really well lately, idk why my mind is filled with angst. the POV is so messy ngl because you see "your" thoughts but there's also a major focus on deans inner turmoil and observations...not my best work but I had to spill it out. I may come back to revisit it later but just wanted to preface that LOL also this is inspired by my bot!

summary: a call from the Greensboro Sherriff's Office causes your heart to stop dead in the middle of your apartment. you bring dean back into reality, as he takes in your reaction to his choices.

pairings: dean x reader

characters: dean (20 years old), reader (anywhere from 18 and up)

word count: 6.1K

warnings: cursing, slight injury (a bruise and a cut), John Winchester hate, HELLA angst, not exactly proof read good luck

-+-+-+-

NOVEMBER 14, 1999

sluggishly jabbing the key into the handle, you open the door to your studio apartment. you drag your feet in, missing the sight of your place, as it feels like you haven't been here for days- when in reality, it was only fourteen hours because of the double shift that you took. 

throwing anything in your hands on the counter- keys, purse, leftover food- you make your way into the bedroom to change into loungewear instead of your work clothes. you couldn't focus on anything else until you stripped yourself of anything from work. an oversized grey shirt that reaches down to your upper thigh is accompanied by your black yoga shorts and fuzzy leopard print slippers. you couldn't bring yourself to care. all you want to do is eat and pass out, because you know you're up again tomorrow to open.

you didn't mind your work at all. there was a consistency about it that was rather soothing to you since hunting was anything but consistent. you only went on hunts every couple of months, since it was hard to take off more than a couple of days at a time. 

once you sluggishly make your way back in the kitchen to grab your leftovers, a buzzing starts to sound from your bag. you rummage through it trying to find your pinging cell phone that seems to have been buried in a mountain of credit cards, mascara bottles, and god knows what else you've tossed in there.

upon finally snatching it, you hurriedly flip it open before it goes to voicemail and accept the call, with an drowsy, "hello?"

the line is still for a moment, before you hear, “is this," your full name is said across the line, an older woman with a gratingly, unenthusiastic tone.

you stand up straighter. the unsteady beat of your heart was the only thing you could focus on for a moment or two, thumping in your chest with unease. a bad feelings swells in your chest. you aren't sure who you would've given your number to recently. you don't give it out at all unless it's to close friends or family. your mind goes to the worst case scenarios. a hospital calling to tell you that someone is gravely injured.

or dead.

you swallow, a moment before you shakily respond. "uh, who's asking?"

the droning woman continues with an exasperated sigh. "you have a collect call from Greensboro Sheriff’s Department, do you accept the charges?” 

perplexity racks your brain for about a second before you close your eyelids with a knowing sigh.

dean.

you try to keep the contents in your stomach down from the rush of nerves. you swear your legs feel like they're about to give out from underneath. you brace your hand on the counter, leaning into it. “yes,” you manage.

a click in the line signals that the operator is connecting the call, as it rings twice before a hoarse voice speaks your name. it is exactly who you figured.

“dean? what the hell's going on?” the panic slips out from your throat as you attempt to keep a level volume.

a waery sigh travels to your ears, and he sounds a lot less assured and cocky than he normally does. he comes across with a softer mumbling, a tone you haven't heard before.

"can you pick me up?”

he sounds tired. embarrassed almost. it didn't help tame your irregular heart rate.

you shake your head with worried incredulity even though he can't see you, "from greensboro? where's that- north carolina?"

"yes."

your eyes squeeze shut, trying to maintain a regular breathing pattern. it was all wrong. you wanted to be angry, and yell and scream and curse at him but this call, his defeated voice, and curt answers... it's not like this was on purpose, you remind yourself. he just makes bad decisions sometimes.

though, this is one probably takes the cake.

you blink your eyes open, a dreadful huff escaping, "god- it'll be a couple of hours before i get there." you glance to your wall clock hanging next to the kitchen cabinets. 10:44PM. you estimate you won't get there until 1:30 in the morning. god damn this.

"no, that's fine- it's...i'm sorry," dean barely raises his voice above a whisper. his strained, resigned voice breathes across the line as he continues, "i didn't know who else to call."

oddly enough, you're genuinely thankful. given that dean was more of an 'i'll do it myself' guy, you are relieved to know that he called you instead of allowing himself to spend a night or two in jail. sure, this is a major problem to deal with, he's in a fucking holding cell at the sheriff's office right now, and you're hours away from having to drive to bail him out.

but he did call for you.

the anger isn't quite faded, but it's pushed to the back of your mind, as you grip the phone a bit tighter, your voice getting stronger again, "just- it's okay. i'm glad you called me. i'm on my way, just- god, don't get into any more trouble while you're there." you're already halfway out the door with a map in your hand as you scold him over the phone.

"i won't, i won't." he ensures tightly, before quietly adding "drive safe, sweetheart."

you utter a quick bye as you hang up, heading to your car parked outside the apartment building.

you can't say that you weren't aware of what you were signing up for when you started dating him. you knew exactly what you were getting into. and it was hard. he's not always around, and when he does show up, more often than not he's battered and bruised. although you take pride in the fact that he shows up to you when he can. it's hard to get close to him, so you take anything you can get when it comes to helping him. and when he is around...you forget how to act. he is unlike anyone you've ever met. he's got this wicked charm and sense of humor that you adore. he is selfless to a fault, putting everyone before himself. he cares deeply for those around him, even though it's not always in plain sight. he's surprisingly romantic- though some times you do have to remind him of what boyfriends do. being one of his first "long-term" girlfriends means that he's doing a lot of learning. and he does learn, you admit, and he makes you happy.

so you keep replaying these thoughts in your head as you curse his name on the three hour drive to Greensboro.

-+-+-+-

only when you park at the sheriff's department is when you realize you never changed. you were still in your lounge clothes from earlier. a funny thing to make note of, but your thoughts were so scattered right now from the evening's events that you couldn't care to linger on the topic.

you walk through the front doors to an eerie and dim-lit waiting room. one officer behind a guarded cubicle shifts his glance to you. you slowly walk up to the desk, trying to hide your uncertainty, seeming as you've never picked up anyone from a holding cell before. you speak up, "uhh- evening...i'm here to bail out dean. he was brought in today..." you left out his last name, hoping that they hadn't got his legal name and that maybe he was using a coverup.

the officer, a balding guy in his mid-forties (if you had to guess), clicks his tongue as he files through a comically large binder, skimming through until he reaches the page with dean's information. "yup. we got 'im. take this. fill it out. he's processed already, so we just need a check and some info and we'll send him on his way."

he hands you a clipboard with a couple of pages of paper and a pen, asking for some of your identification and background. you flash him with a quick, forced smile as you take it over to one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the lobby.

you stand up and hand it back to the officer from the slit in the plastic guard. you notice a badge on his chest that reads "WADE", as he just stares at the chunky computer that his eyes seem to be glued to. you clear your throat, offering the clipboard and papers in further, along with a check for $300. 

dean better be damn lucky i have a savings...

"fantastic," although, the enthusiasm obviously didn't reach to his expression as he printed out a receipt, on an obnoxiously loud printer. he slides it through slit and exasperatedly groans as he stands from his seat. once the officer grabs keys from the desk, he shuffles over to the hallway with a pressed, "cyom'on."

you follow behind him with an awkward silence. the only noises to be heard were the echoes of his boots booming with each step, and his occasional throat-clearing. he swings the key ring around his finger with soft, metal clinking and slows down at one of the locked doors.

this room is full of other desks occupied by a small handful of other police officers at their stations filling out paperwork. one or two glance up to you, but it's short-lived.

"wait here and i'll grab 'im," he holds out his palm, signaling for you to stop behind him, as he disappeared through another set of doors.

you are for sure angry with dean, but the way the cop said "grab 'im" makes the protective bones in your body activate. it sounded too aggressive, even though you knew dean could be quite the handful. 

he was your handful, and you have to remember that. when you answered the phone call, you assumed the worst, which was that he was dead. and he's not, thankfully. you just have to remember that this night could have been much worse. 

you take in a long inhale, sitting on the edge of one of the chairs. you lean your head in your hands, the exhaustion taking you out by the minute. and it didn't help that you're out there for another fifteen minutes before you hear the same door open with a second pair of footsteps. you stand up immediately and exhale in relief, and all negative feelings are spared for the moment when you watch dean trudge in front of the officer with a fresh, red-pigmented bruise forming on his left cheek with a small cut paired at the center of impact. his eyes look glossed over from probable sleep deprivation, as his strides are more lethargic than you're used to seeing. 

"this the guy you want?" he points lazily, double-checking as he looks at you unimpressed.

you usher yourself over to them, confirming with a sharp, "yep."

although despite your tone and your blank face, you couldn't help but instinctually reach out to dean and bring him in for a firm embrace. 

he obviously wasn't expecting it, as he grunts from your grip on him, and he raises a surprised brow but puts his right arm around you as he swallows down his own emotions. his gravelly assurance reaches your ears, "i'm fine."

you pull away with a disbelieving scowl, reaching a hand up to the side of his face and turning it so you can see the little souvenir he received from this experience.

"what's this." you deadpan, laced with a bit of a challenging bite to it.

dean sets his jaw as you hold it in place, avoiding your gaze as he grates out a dismissive, "nothin'."

you let go of him, shaking your head. your expression morphing into a controlled irritation and worry.

"son," officer wade impatiently calls from the desk a couple of feet away. he slides a paper towards the edge of his desk with the tips of his fingers, "fill this out for us while i git the rest of your belongin's and such."

dean lets out a quick huff of air, as he turns to the cop leaving their vicinity, "yes sir, officer krupke." he mumbles under his breath, which in turn gets him a backhand on his arm from you. he whips his head to you with shocking amount of surprise, as you eye him with a stern look that said "you better fucking watch yourself". dean rubs his arm slightly and widens his eyes briefly before sitting down at the chair across from the desk, writing on the bail acknowledgement sheet.

after a little while, dean turns his head to you, darting his tongue out to wet his lips before he hesitantly asks, "hey, uh...did they give you an amount for bail?"

you take a deep breath in, grinding your teeth as you avoid his gaze before you numbly answer, "it was $300, dean."

he gulps. his eyebrows flash up in shock and be blinks a couple times, and gives you another glance, "damn. thanks for covering me."

"just fill out the paper." there wasn't any attitude behind it. just clear exhaustion.

he looks at you funny, like he didn't expect you to be this terse. he takes a breath, and huffs a bit of it out, bringing the pen to the designated lines.

after about ten minutes of silence, officer wade drops off a plastic bag of personal items of dean's with a sharpie label on it. he drops it on the desk unceremoniously, bringing dean's attention to him.

"if that's all done, you can git." he points to the doors leading out, "but i don't wanna see you back in here or we'll have problems. y'understand?"

you let out a chide scoff directed at dean, answering for him, "trust me. he won't be back here. thank you, officer wade."

he dips his head in acknowledgement. dean scuffs the chair backwards as he eyes the cop, and he stands up slowly and with a slight threat in his look still.

you hurriedly walk down the hallways of the sheriff's department, not even looking back to dean.

now...

now is when the anger starts to simmer a bit.

you're a couple of feet ahead of dean as you push the door open with more force than necessary, but you figure it might be better than taking it out on dean after he just was released from the cell.

and you can't tell if he knows you're upset- or if he knows and he doesn't want to pay attention to the fact.

"listen, i'll pay you back every penny of that bail, alright?" dean catches up to your strides quickly as you basically dart to your parked car.

you bite your cheek, an unresponsive scowl still on your face after dean's amendment to the situation.

the uncomfortable silence is something that dean wasn't used to between you guys. "it was absolute torture in there. i didn't think what i did was that bad. but then they started playing the BeeGees on the radio in there-"

you stop halfway to the car, and dean almost smacks into your back. you shake your head with disbelief, your lips twitching with aggravation. yet your tone is scarily even and low as you glance to him, "how fucking dare you make jokes right now. after i just drove three hours to get you at one a.m. after my fourteen-hour shift. from jail."

and that did it. he got quiet real quick. you almost feel bad, because his face immediately falls, and he resembled a kicked puppy, even with all the effort in the world to hold up his "everything's peachy" facade. he can barely scoff, unknowing of what to say at all.

you open your mouth to say something else, but it dies off, and all you do is turn around and head back to the car. once you stick the key into the handle of the driver's seat, you unlock it for dean as you both sink into your seats. closing the door where all the negative energy is contained, and stuffy, and hard to vent out.

"where's your car, dean."

he tucks his head down slightly, carefully glancing to you for a moment before he mumbles like a kid, "it's not with me. dad has it with sammy, a couple of states away."

that piques your concern, and you brave it and look to him as you ask, "w-where are you staying then?"

dean nods in a general direction in front of them, "just at a motel near downtown."

john left his eldest son, who is still only twenty, in a shitty part of town with no car, to stay at a dingy motel by himself.

you wish you could say you were surprised.

you sigh, disappointedly. "where..." you begin to buckle your seatbelt, and put the key into the ignition.

the car roars to life, and dean answers flatly, "it's called Morrison's Motel, on Holbrook, Street or somethin'."

you place your right hand on the back of the passenger seat, leaning on it so you could angle yourself backwards while backing out of the parking spot. once you're able to get back into drive and onto the main road, you announce to dean, "you're gonna grab your stuff and come back with me."

his eyebrows furrow with intense confusion, "what?"

"you're grabbing your stuff," you break apart the words with a bit of an edge leaving no room for argument, "then you're coming back to my apartment."

he stares at you in disbelief for a bit. he doesn't argue, but he's unsure if he wants to.

on one hand it was you. you're his everything. and you always took care of him. when he's come by your apartment after hunts, you feed him, heal him, make love to him, talk to him- whatever he needs.

on the other hand... it was you. and you are royally pissed.

he despises the fact that he feels like a child right now. he knows the game you're playing right now, and he loathes it. it doesn't exactly "work" for him. this intense, condemning attitude where you think you know what's good for him. what's better for him. he's heard talks of similar nature and he's dismissed them, because it get's nowhere. his stubborn ass hardly gives thought to what's better for himself. his brain chemistry is practically permanently altered to do what's best for anyone else but himself.

and you were damn determined that you would change that.

not today, and not tomorrow. but you needed that to happen for him.

he sinks into the seat, marinating in his own irritation at the fact that he practically has to deal with this situation. it definitely won't be any better to avoid it. he knows better than to try and get away with anything from you. nor does he want you to resent him.

he knows he fucked up.

once you park outside of his motel, you unlock the door from inside the car. you wordlessly allow him to get out, and collect his duffel and whatever else he had been left with. he checks out of the motel, and he joins you back in the car, closing the door with a slightly irked slam.

you don't pay attention to it, taking off the highway. back home.

-+-+-+-

the silence stretched for the entire three-hour ride. so much so that you didn't even notice that dean fell asleep against the door. you turn and pull the key out of the ignition once your in front of your apartment building, just staring at him for a moment.

he looks exhausted. his eyes had darker bags around them, and he didn't even look comfortable the way his neck is positioned. you were sure going to jail for a night was enough to wear you down from stress alone. he came off aloof when you picked him up, sure, but you know dean. you know that he's not really going to show you everything he's really feeling. you can only imagine how he's been since his dad just abandoned him at the motel.

he doesn't really do well with being alone, you've noticed.

and curse your empathy because the pit in your stomach had settled a bit, and you've calmed down some. you reach a hand out too his bicep. his arms were somehow crossed in his sleep. you barely touch him, and he inhales deeply before jolting slightly against the seat.

"easy," you tell him, not as gentle as you normally would but still you try to disarm him. "c'mon. let's go."

he blinks himself awake, clearly struggling to come back to the present. he jerks his head to the passenger door that you've opened, with a little impatience, and he lets out a tired huff as he climbs out.

once you reach your front door, it opens to the living space dean remembered it to be. he really liked your place. it was simple, and small, for sure, but you didn't require a lot of space. the occasional decoration scatters on the walls and tables throughout, adding a touch of home to your space. dean usually feels at home here.

but for once, he wasn't exactly sure what to do with himself.

he hovers by the door, and you've already taken off to drop your keys and purse on the kitchen counter. you don't yet look him in the eyes.

"come here, please."

he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, expecting a lecture or something. he rests his hands on his arms again, keeping his demeanor closed-off, while he watches you shed your things in the kitchen. and he's dumbstruck again by you.

"do you need an icepack?" you offer.

he swallows, almost forgetting about his bruised cheek, "i'm fine."

you turn yourself to face him, matching his stance with no real emotion displaying on your face, "when's the last time you ate?"

he scoffs defensively this time, lifting his shoulders tensely, "I don't know...today- or yesterday or whatever." he didn't actually eat more than a gas station pizza slice that day.

you note his attitude but neglect it, walking over to the fridge, moving around a couple of loose bottles and containers. you stand on the top of your toes to reach to the back of the top shelf, grabbing a container of macaroni and cheese you had made the other night, along with left-over rotisserie chicken. it wasn't exactly a home-cooked meal, but it's mostly better than what dean normally has.

you pull apart the chicken and silently start putting it on a plate that you grabbed from one of the cabinets, and scoop out some of the mac and cheese on there as well. you throw it in the microwave for a minute, leaning against the counter with your hip with no other words.

dean forfeits his indirect protest at your mother-henning and sits at your miniature table-for-two in the corner of the kitchen. he slumps, resting his back on the wall while he's in the chair, and his legs splay outward, ninety degrees away from the table as he keeps his gaze to the floor. or wall. or anything besides you, really.

the microwave dings and you bring the plate over to him with a fork stuffed underneath the food. you ungraciously drop it in front of him, letting the ceramic plate smack the table a bit. dean casts a quick glance to you before staring straight ahead, not wanting to acknowledge the food in front of him. because if he did, that would entail that he was hungry, like any other human being. that he can starve and that he had been since his dad left.

but it smells fucking good.

he takes a breath, relenting as he grabs a fork and mumbles a quick "thanks". he stirs it around for a couple of moments before taking massive bites at a time.

and you knew he was hungry. you know he doesn't take care of himself on the road. that's why you loved when he would stop by in between hunts. you were comforted by the fact that he ate something more than a a bag of chips and a granola bar when he would stop by.

you don't say anything, as you put away the containers of food and clean up the kitchen some. by the time you're done, you lean against the refrigerator with your eyes on dean.

you couldn't let go of this. you know you won't be able to sleep regardless of tonight, but at least you'll have answers.

"you wanna tell me what happened?" you start, and there's no bite in your tone. it's a simple question.

and with that in mind, dean's response really set you off.

he pauses on his last couple of bites of food, and shakes his head with a short-tempered snort, "you signed the bail papers, didn't you? i'm sure it said why."

your blood boils and your unable to keep the poker face you've been maintaining. you stalk closer to dean, kicking yourself off the fridge. "you know what dean, i did sign the papers for you, so i don't understand why you're the one who's got attitude here. you know what else I did? i paid. for. your. bail. that was three-hundred fucking dollars, dean. do you think i'm made of cash-"

dean brings himself forward and sets his forearms down on the table, causing the ceramic plate to clink at his motion as his voice rises with defense. he looks you dead in the eyes as he reiterates, "i said i'm gonna pay you back. i intend to keep my word on that."

"that doesn't fix the situation, dean!" you retort as your voice starts to seethe with emotion, "you got arrested. i drove three hours after a fourteen hour shift to pick you up, so you don't get to be angry with me."

"i'm sorry, okay?" he snaps loudly, standing up briskly causing the chair to scuff backwards against the floor. "getting arrested wasn't exactly on my agenda for today either."

"you think that makes this more acceptable? because you didn't mean to get arrested?"

he shrugs his shoulders with a hardened expression on his face, "what do you want me to say?

you scowl harshly, like it was obvious. "i want a goddamn explanation! getting arrested doesn't happen on your typical Tuesday, dean."

"i'm a hunter," he says your name with pronounced snark, "there's no such thing as 'typical' for us!"

"were you on a hunt?"

your question stuns him for a second. "I- well," he stumbles, at a loss for words, "not exactly, but-"

"no." your voice is low and dangerous, "you weren't on a hunt. disorderly conduct and false identification were the charges. so this has jack shit to do with hunting." you take a couple of steps closer to him, pointing to him with a thundered glare, "you were at a bar, using a fake ID, illegally drinking and fighting. that is a whole other level of reckless for you, dean."

he matches your intensity and gets closer to you so that you are only about two feet apart. "i wasn't drinking recreationally- i was blending in while hustling pool money! they didn't like that I won, so they tried to start something. they did, not me. there's the whole explanation- are you happy now?"

your voice falters at his spat as you tremble with emotion, face morphing more into distress than anger, "no! no, i'm not happy. do i look happy?"

dean huffs, and he doesn't respond at first. his face neutralizes slightly before he breaks eye contact with you and rubs a hands down his face as he paces away from where he stood.

"jesus christ, look-" he turns back to you with a controlled, firm expression, "they let me off with just a fine. i don't even have to go to fucking court so i don't get why are you turning this into such a big deal-"

"do you know how worried I was when I picked up the phone to hear from the police station?"

the sentence resounds against the walls of your apartment. and dean freezes, the only thing moving is his chest which rises up and down from the overload of his frustrations. for a moment, you could hear the honks and revs in traffic, the buzzing hum of the air conditioning, and the whir of the electronics and appliances around you with how quiet it became.

"a shiver ran down my fucking spine, dean. i felt like my heart stopped. i was damn near shaking when they called. i didn't know i-if they were calling to say they found your body, or if you were hurt, dean. i was scared- i was so fucking scared. why- why, why, why can't you see that I'm worried about you? i don't want to sit here and berate you for your choices, because yes, this was a fuck-up but i know you know better and i know that you're beating yourself up for it too." for a brief second, you wonder to yourself why dean's face had dramatically gentled into a look of pained concern, and you didn't realize up until that moment that you had streams of tears down your face.

then you notice that your breath hitches, and the lump in your throat weakens your speech. "i don't want to sit here and lecture, and yell- i just don't want to feel that again-" your words get cut off in a sobbing squeak.

"okay, okay," dean croons and suddenly his arms are wrapped around you, and your face is buried into his chest. your breath heaves as you try to reign back control on your body, and you want to be angry at dean, but his hands hold onto you so tight and he brings his mouth to the crown of your head, and one of his hands to your hair. he mumbles a couple of apologies, his own voice getting caught as he watches you crumble into him.

"i'm sorry- hey, i'm sorry. i-" you can feel him shake his head above you as he rubs your upper arm and shoulder, "i should've realized- i didn't know you were that worried. i-" dean curses to himself as he feels you shake in his grasp, and he rubs your arm with affection. "sweetheart, i'm so sorry. i never wanted you to worry like that..."

your hands fist the back of his shirt as you try to hide your face into him, your voice slightly muffled, "i'm not bothered worrying about you- but when it's shit like this-"

"no- sweetheart, i- yeah. i get it, i do. it was stupid, okay? it won't happen again." his guilt-laced promise almost breaks its way through to you.

you pull yourself off of dean as he reluctantly lets go of you, not quite looking into his eyes as you bring a hand to wipe your face. you look down, sniffling as you hoarsely choked out, "damn straight it won't."

dean's shoulder's sag, as the events of tonight seem to finally wash over him, as he sees the tolls that it took on you. his hands find his way to your shoulders again, and he tilts his head to try and find your gaze. "thank you. for picking me up, and feeding me, and-and worrying, and driving all that way to pick up my dumb-ass. you shouldn't've had to."

you sniff, bringing your head up but avoid his gaze still. "it's fine."

"no, it's not...and i knew it wasn't and i fought you on it anyways. I just..." dean sighs as he unwillingly admits, "money's tight. dad didn't leave me much when he took off, so i was just trying to make some extra cash. it's just stress- and i didn't mean to get angry with you. i'm not angry with you..."

you look to him then, your face vulnerable and open, "why didn't you ask me for help?"

he scoffs definitively, "i'm not taking your money."

"it costed you an extra $300 to not ask for my help in the first place, dean. i would've rather given it to you then have you borrow it from me in this case." you remind him, and he thinks it over. regret and shame written all over his face.

"you want me to forgive you?"

dean blinks at you, his brows furrowing in confusion quickly before answering, "yeah- i do."

"the next time you find yourself like this- hell, when you need help at all- you call me. and i can't say that i'll always be able to but i will do my damndest to try." you assert sincerely.

he bites his lip, obviously not entirely wanting to admit to needing your help. but for you, he's willing to do anything to keep you pleased.

"alright. i will." his eyebrows slightly lower, serious with his promise to you.

"good," you nod, feeling better about the situation. not all better, but it was baby steps. you bring a hand to his elbow, giving it a gentle squeeze as you utter, "it's late. you should get to bed. you could use the rest."

"yeah." he replies in a whisper, "you too."

you gesture to the bedroom with the cock of your head as he follows behind you like a puppy. you bring your hands to your face, trying wipe away any emotion that remained from the fight. you walk to the adjourning bathroom as you wearily mention to dean, "i need to wash my face, go ahead and change if you need to."

"okay," he replies softly. it's that same quiet tone your not used to.

as you rinse your face from the stress of the evening, you let the cold water cleanse you, allowing yourself to focus on the frigid, november water. it washes over you, and you feel yourself grow sluggish as your mind becomes quieter with every breath you take, and your heart beat slows for the first time in the night.

you pat your face dry with a towel hanging on your wall, and walk out as your met with dean on the bed with the lamp on next to him. he's changed into his sweatpants that he's left here before, along with a plain black t-shirt. his back rests against the headboard as his knees are drawn up. his hands ruffle through his hair before bringing the heel of his palms to rub circles against his forehead. he smooths his hair out quickly as he notices your appearance again, and immediately lays his feet down on the bed, and waits to see if you'll join him.

you shuffle over to your side of the bed, getting under the covers.

"you can turn off the lamp now." you say after adjusting, your voice barely above a whisper.

"right," he reaches over to click the lamp off, and scoots further down so that his head is resting on a pillow.

the silence eats away at you both, before dean speaks up first, "are you still angry?"

you inhale deeply, moving onto your side so that you're facing dean. you lean down and find his lips through the moonlight shining through the room. and of course, he reciprocates the kiss with a bit of surprise.

"yes," you preface, before continuing with a gentle gaze, "but i forgive you, and i still care about you. and even though i'm mad, i'd rather have you next to me then not at all."

dean blinks a couple times, nodding a bit before one side of his lips twitches upwards. this time, it's his turn to kiss you, as he pushes onto his elbow, to meet your lips with his, taking his time. when he lays back down, he lovingly studies your face, "thank you."

"you don't have to thank me for that. i'll care about you always...get some sleep, baby." your hand finds his forearm closest to you, as you give it a soft rub.

dean watches you through the dark as you settle back into the bed. but he doesn't close his eyes yet. after a couple of minutes, he feels you shift, and you sit up and grab his farthest hand, and take it with you as you lie back down, dragging his arm over yours.

his lips quirk into a smile, the first real one of the night, and moves to hold you against him.

now... now he closes his eyes.

JEALOUSY JEALOUSY | LEE BYUNG-HUN

PAIRING. lee byung-hun x actress!reader

REQUEST. I might have just found my fave blog... May i pretty please with a cherry on top have some lee byunghun with actress!girlfriend!y/n where they watch her show and he gets jealous because of a kiss scene but make it like its some vid for youtube like for GQ maybe and the fans analyzing like the jealousy Its fine if u dont want to tho

A/N. sorry I couldn’t answer directly to your request. btw I know the updates are slow. I’m back in college so I’m really trying to focus! Divider by @v6que !

gq

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gq y/n y/ln and lee byung-hun take a walk down memory lane on our latest GQ&A.

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user12 no way they got them on GQ

byunghunswifey MY HUSBAND LOOKS TOO FINE

reagenxox omw to watch it 🫡

charliee_3.3 the look on his face

sukiwaterhouse @/yourusername look at you go!

iloveyn my favourite actress 💞

yndailynews

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yndailynews clips from y/n y/ln and her boyfriend lee byung-hun’s GQ&A video

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user face card never declines

jaime.lan1 did anyone catch the look on his face when they showed her kissing scene?

user7 @/jaime.lan1 FINALLY SOMEONE NOTICED!

maryssblog I didn’t even know he was dating someone

user4 my two favourite actors together

girlblogger the last picture…he looks like he wants to murder someone

yourusername

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yourusername peace

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randomuser u got a possessive man

userr8 PRETTY

ynfanacc DID SHE NOTICE THE LOOK HE GAVE HER??

byunhunwifeyfr I wish I had your man

ynswifeyy WDYM PEACE? THAT LOOK MEANT THE OPPOSITE OF PEACE

yourfriendsuser I hate that u have a man🥲

byunghun0712

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byunhun0712 it doesn't matter...she's mine

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user2 IS HE TALKING ABOUT THE MOVIE!?

ynspookie @/user2 ofc he is

user3 making sure everybody knows that their together 😭

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ynsfandom she did that movie years agoooo move onnn

hater pretty sure you kissed other people too so….

user8 @/hater I thought it was cute

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤshield ! reader ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤpart one !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤBITTER REUNIONS.

summary soldier boy's first stop in his grand return is to collect his suit and his shield, only to find out just how different & bittersweet things have become in his absenceㅤㅤㅤwarnings feminine rage, discussions of trauma, hurt/hurt because there's no comfortㅤㅤㅤword count 2.5k

ㅤㅤㅤTHE FLATSCREEN TELEVISION SCREEN CRACKLES IN THE LEGEND'S LIVING ROOM SPACE. on it, a basketball game, two teams that you've never given a shit about, but it's what the legend likes to watch, and so you sit on the worn-out couch and do what you've always done: endure other people's shit, and bite the hand that feeds you.

you would think by now that he knows you better than this. that you pick a fight every single time he flips through the channels with the device he won't tell you the name of, lest you figure out how to access the internet and learn how to use it. that you have smashed three of his televisions in your time with him.

frederick vought warned the legend before he'd handed you over. his words were slurred, tired, defeated — but they were clear enough to still be used against you, repeated by many who encountered you.

she is a cruel one, that shield i've reconstructed.

cruel, indeed.

"i do not want to watch," you shout across the empty space, making a furious reach across the sofa to snatch the television stick off of the other side's abandoned cushion. the bell to the door rang ten minutes earlier, and the old man had yet to return.

you glare at the screen, as if you could will it to silence with nothing but your mind. impossible, of course; at least, you hadn't been successful yet. you hated the buzz of high pitched chatter in the televised crowd, the way it crawled into the crevices of your mind through the passages of your ears and nested.

a furious growl leaves your lips, and you rise to your feet, steps away from the bright screen. you are cruel, and everyone thinks so, but you have kindness tucked away in your rage, sometimes. the score is 120-88. you take note of it, shoving the numbers into your pocket, before you slam the remote into the screen.

the shards of glass that embed into your hand don't hurt. your lips twist into an irritated scowl at the sight of them, plucking out each piece and littering it on the hardwood floor. the remote is in pieces, too, crushed in the tight squeeze of your hand.

you release your grip, letting each piece crumble to the ground with loud thumps. fury crackles through you, acid burning in your bloodstream. it is unlike the man you've been stuck with to abandon you to your own devices for so long. it is also unlike him to force you to watch something you do not like in his absences.

you liked jersey shore, and the real housewives. you liked seeing girls like you get to live lives you'd never get to. it was therapeutic and gutwrenching all at once, and that only added to the fuel of your anger, crackling inside of you.

the walk you take down the lengthy hallway into the part of his home that you were strictly forbidden from was punctuated by the echo of your stomping feet. these were the parts of the house that the legend kept locked. the front entrance, the actual living room, and the man's own bedroom. all places that he deemed his, and all places with quick access to the public, meaning exits.

it was not a laboratory. but it was not a home, either.

your fist slams on the wood of the door, right into the indent of it that you'd already created. this was not the first time that you'd broken down this door. it wouldn't be the last, with how many secrets he kept locked away from you, and how much of the world you were forbidden to see.

"open the door, legend, or i'm going to pummel your fucking skull—"

"enough of that." his voice is muffled when it cuts through your threats, close enough that he sounds like he is right on the other side of the wood. you slam your fist into it again, hard enough for the wood to splinter in the center of your indentation. "enough, indy. i'm comin' back."

"you left the fucking game on." you throw your hand backwards in gesture, even though he can't see it. that was easy enough to fix. you punch through the splintered wood, creating a fist shaped hole to the other side. "you know i hate watching men play games."

the legend is used to your antics by now, and so he doesn't flinch at the break. you see enough of his face to note the downward scowl, and the disappointment behind his dark glasses. "you don't much like the women playing them, either."

"because it is not fun." didn't he understand by now? you were a girl locked away, punished for being created and what you were shaped into. you did not get fun of your own, so you needed some kind of outlet to drown yourself into. it was no wonder that you were thought of as a monster. your only glimpses of the sunny skies were in the gaps of the legend's barred off windows. titanium, so it was not impossible for you to bend them, but it was not an easy feat.

he sighs through his nose, smoke curling around his face from the cigar in his fingers. "two minutes, indy." he holds up two fingers, as if he thought you could not fucking count or comprehend how long two minutes was. "that's all i need."

"who the fuck is in there?" another voice asks, deep and rough and familiar. so familiar. forty years was enough time to age someone — you knew this from how the legend looks now, compared to when he'd first had to take you in — and yet...

the legend's eyes dart over to the source of the voice at the same time as yours do. recognition comes in the form of a racing heartbeat. it builds, and crescendos, and suddenly you are shaking as you beat on the door again. "whoa, whoa, whoa—"

each time he got the door redone stronger. soon enough, he'd have a door made of titanium guarding his proper guests from the rest of his house, and from you.

no one could know about you, not when you were the makings of a sick imagination burrowed in an intelligent man's head.

that did not mean you didn't try. it was such a lonely life, locked away in a penthouse with a man that grew closer and closer to dying with each passing year, and no one knowing anything of what you'd become.

the anger flares, flames licking at the electric sparks in your veins. the door crumbles with one harsher hit, and you're standing in the space you're kept from. you've been here before, never permitted past this doorway, always whisked away before you can get a breath of fresh air.

"hi, sweetheart," soldier boy says, one corner of his mouth curled high in an arrogant smile. bold of him to still carry the same confidence he did back when you knew him, when now, he was in nothing but sweatpants and a zip-up jacket almost too small for his frame. his green eyes stay on you as he says over your shoulder, "she's young. can you even fuckin' keep up with her?"

your eyes flare. it's two steps to be in front of him, and the third is just for good measure, when you clock him in the chin. his head snaps backwards, surprise making him stumble backwards a step.

soldier boy rubs at the skin of his jaw, irritation as bright as your anger staring back at you. you know the calm he wears in his expression. it barely conceals a storm, brewing beneath the surface. you know it because you'd often been the weapon he chose in these moods of his. you know it because you adopted that ire yourself.

"that's enough." the legend steps over the broken pieces of his door, grimacing at the splinters littering the ground. "indy, enough."

you glance over your shoulder to eye the man's expression, trying to determine what he was feeling by look alone. he was not capable of hurting you, nothing was, but he knew how to weaponize words when you upset him, all of which only steeled your skin further.

there is not enough damage in the world you can inflict onto soldier boy to make up for the things he did with you. bashed skulls, took bullets, burnt her steel until she glowed vibrant orange. you expected him to be dead. you wanted him to have been dead, if only so you'd be spared from this moment. but you never got what you wanted. no jersey shore, no fresh air, and no freedom from soldier boy.

you raise your arm to deck him again, but his fingers close around your wrist tightly, tugging it harshly back down. his smirk says everything you need to know about how much he knows. he does not know that you've learned all of his weaknesses, and that he often left himself vulnerable in times when he thought he had the upperhand.

you yank him toward you in the same moment as you ream your knee straight into his cock.

soldier boy stutters on a groan, releasing his grip on you like you’d burnt him. you don’t relish in his pain, or the surprise that you could hurt him. it’s not enough.

the legend gives you the same disappointed look you’re used to getting from him, his head shaking in disapproval. “i locked the door for a reason.”

“you always say this.” you turn on your heel, jamming your finger into the center of his chest. you missed the days when he cowered under your anger and attitude, now it only seemed to exhaust him. “you always lock the door for a reason, and then it is just grace. you do not even let me see grace.”

“and look what happened the time you decided to break the rules.” the legend nods behind you, toward the man you do not turn to look at again. his footsteps are heavy as they approach. “this is what i keep you away from. the possibility of this.”

the urge to break every bone on the older man’s face is almost enough to overtake any rational thinking inside of you. he must see it, because he shakes his head again. “stand down.”

“where’s my suit?” soldier boy asks from behind you, and you still in place. he’s too close. every instinct of fight clicks into gear, the safety off as the bullets load up.

the legend nods down the hallway, in the direction of your space. you had so little that you could call your own. the bigger of the guest bedrooms was yours, shared only in the terms of the collectibles he kept in the expansive closet.

you knew soldier boy’s suit was in there. you could smell the tobacco and the whiskey from it, sometimes, from the safety of your bed. you sometimes could catch a whiff of cologne, on days where you let go of the mask that you were okay with being alone for the rest of your life. when you wished upon a star outside of your barred windows that just one person would find you again.

“you cannot go in there.” you are already starting down the hallway, eager to reach your room before any of them could.

all of your fury was gone. stand down was an order. a kill switch programmed into you to bury all of the tension that often broke free of your restraints. it was not safe, vought once said to you when you were a child, to have a girl who can’t break without a few weaknesses. a few. some of which you didn’t even know, but your mind did.

there wasn’t any electricity in your veins anymore, but there was bleeding desperation. no, they could not invade your space. it defeated the purpose of having it. it would force the legend to open the rooms he locked away from you, too, and you knew he wouldn’t ever. if you granted either of these men an inch, they’d take a mile, and crush you in the process.

“he needs his suit, indy.”

your nose twitches, fighting against the command still ringing in your head. you grit your teeth, jaw clenched tightly. “he needs nothing.”

“who the fuck is this?” soldier boy asks again, and he’s relentless in his pursuit now, coming for your space with the authority of a man who has never been told no in his life. “get out of the way, sweetheart, or you won’t like how this blows up in your face.”

he had hurt you before. you were not human then, but you remembered all of the aches of it. you knew that soldier boy did not goad before he hurt you, or make bold-faced threats. he was lying.

you tilt your chin up, holding the eye contact. he was an unkind man, cruel in every crevice — but so were you, weren’t you? how evil it was to see yourself reflected in a man you hated, who you wanted to break into pieces and burn so all of the tears you shed fizzled away with him. “you will not like what you see.”

soldier boy cocks an eyebrow. “y’think i’m gonna hold it over your head if you’ve got a pair of panties left out?”

you step back into your room, all clean and panty free, and wait for him to take the step to follow you before you slam the door against his nose. the door rattles in the frame. soldier boy, on the other side, grunts in surprise, before he kicks at the hinges.

“that is enough!” the legend’s voice rips through the expansive space of his penthouse, his cane clicking across the floor. “i am not losing two fucking doors to this childish shit.”

you’ve moved, now. you can’t prevent soldier boy from busting down your door, but you can prevent them from fully infiltrating your bedroom. you go into the closet, to the deeper parts lined with memorabilia that you tried to ignore every time you were in here, and snatch the army green suit off of the hanger.

your eyes catch on the shield, hung up on the back wall. useless now. all of its indestructibility existed within you now, making it nothing but a heavy disc of metal.

tucking it under one arm, you hurry back to your bedroom, the arguing male voices outside getting aggravated enough that you know the door is about to crumble.

you knew soldier boy. you knew he could not help but exert some sort of dominance, if he could, to feel more in control. but you would not be in there when he came in and saw the display left on your bed.

instead, you tucked away in your closet, closing your eyes to try and find any sort of solace in the solitude. as always, it did nothing but squeeze tight around you, trapping you in a cage of your own making.

you can hear the exact moment your door is kicked down, along with the moment that soldier boy sees his things laid out for him. his suit, unwrinkled and unmarred. his physical shield, dented and decimated and as light as a kitchen plate.

and his real shield, hiding away from the reality that your nightmares always seemed to catch up to you.

notes. believe it or not i did not start this with the idea that indy was going to be so rapunzel. but it makes sense </3 there's a lot of lore i'm going to slowly incorporate that is hinted at in here / spawned from this so <3 perfect starting point! cannot WAIT for the boys^tm to meet this lil thing. hope u guys love her like i do my lil evil princess !!!

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @jensenacklesballsack @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @h8aaz

No Time- Rhea Ripley

Summary; you and Rhea are hosting Christmas dinner for the first time

WC: 474

Warnings: suffocatingly domestic fluff

This is so much shorter than I usually write🫣

Also thank you so much for the love on my first couple stories, always appreciated💛

The warm glow of the oven light warms your face as you lower in front of it, checking the bird for the hundredth time, anxiety pulsing in your chest.

“Darlin’,” you stand quickly at the sound of your wife’s voice, she leans against the door frame in her slacks and button up, “it’s not going to explode if you look away,” The grin on her face annoys you, how was she so calm about this?!

“I just want it to come out good,” you explain fiddling with the dish cloth in your hand. Your ring sparkles in the string lights you put in the window, you polished it earlier and made sure to pin your soft curls in place and donned a red dress in effort to look like a good host,

“It’s going to be amazing,” your wife insists coming to stroke your bicep with a tattooed hand, “and if it’s shit we can order pizza,” you pull away and whip the towel at her and she jumps away laughing. You roll your eyes and despite her fucking around you do feel better, tossing the towel towards the sink.

“Oh fuck me,” you sigh as it hits the edge and falls just short onto the floor, your attention soon pulled from the smirk you’re getting from Rhea, “Not an invitation,”

You stick your arm out with a finger up, you both really should finish getting the house together but she takes a step towards you. You stand straighter with your arms folding across your chest, refusing to back down.

“I mean it,” you argue trying to convince her which might’ve gone better had you actually been convinced yourself. She stops just in front of you and leans down to stare you down face to face and hums deeply. “We… we have no time,” You feel your cheeks getting warm and mentally curse, people who said marriage is boring were wrong.

“Rhea,” you warn one more time as her hand comes up to your chin and pulls it upwards and forward. Her breath is warm next to your ear and you shiver at the feeling,

“Turkeys on fire,” she whispers and you whip around to the oven where the bird is cooking just fine and then back to her. You slap her arms and she bursts out laughing before grabbing your hands and pulling your back flush against her body.

“That was mean,” you whine as she rocks you both gently in the kitchen, her lips place soft kisses along your jaw, her hands running down the front of your hips

“Lemme make it up to you,” tempting… but you hold your resolve, turning around and throwing your hands around her neck,

“We have no time,” you tell her again and stand on your toes to press a quick peck to her nose before moving to walk into the dining room. “Come help me set the table!”

Can you do soft launching Lee byung-hun? 🙏 plz and thank you

soft launching your relationship with lee byung-hun

a/n: thank you for the request

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byunghun0712

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byunghun0712 ⚾️ #TheUltimatePlayground #캘리포니아관광청

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byunhunswife he’s way too fine

user45 did anyone notice how @/yourusername liked?

randomuser @/user45 omg I noticed that too!

stormshadowfan I actually need him.

userrr1 ahh he’s a baseball fan!!

iheartbyunghun the side profile 😩

yourusername

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yourusername who said I didn’t like baseball?

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ynfan you’re so pretty!!!

randomuser GUYS LEE BYUNG-HUN LIKED HER POST. I REPEAT HE LIKED HER POST.

ilovedilfs @/randomuser isn’t he also at a baseball game??

girlblog @/ilovedilfs wait- omg that’s true

sh1tblog i live for your posts

trynagetfamous I LOVE YOU

yourusername

liked by byunghun0712 and others

yourusername little trip to New York 🙃

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yourfriendsuser so excited to see you!

mysticalgirl AHH NO WAY

evesworld guys this is the second time lee byung-hun’s liked her post 😦

user50 @/evesworld do you think they’re together?

evesworld @/user50 I lowkey hope so

iheartdilfs WHO IS EVERYONE TALKING ABOUT

maggieereadss @/iheartdilfs lee byung-hun! he’s an actor

byunghun0712

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byunghun0712 NY

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byunghunswifey okay this cannot be a coincidence

user12 @/byunghunswifey frl why r they both in NY at the same time?!?!

user18 idk why everyone thinks they're together like he's way older than her

randomblogger @/user18 there are worse age gaps in the world tbh

ynandbyunghun idc if they're not together I SHIP THEM

yourusername 30m

yourusername

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yourusername this might just be my year ( I love spending it with the people I care for)

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yourfriendsuser I LOVE YOU clearly so does your man since he spoils u so much 😒

byunghunandyn @/yourfriendsuser ITS CONFIRMED OMG THEYRE DATING

hater @/byunghunandyn nothing is confirmed bro. she could be dating someone else

byunghunisapookie please don't steal my man

yourfan dont listen to the haters!!

user55 did nobody else see her story before she posted this??

user12 @/user55 yeah the one where it clearly showed her being on a date. I swear ppl r clueless

yourusername

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yourusername is this enough proof? *picture credit to me ofc*

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byunghun0712 my love

liked by author

byunghunswife I KNEW IT

byunghunandyn @/hater got smth to say now?

girlblogger actually so happy for them

anonymous thats actually mad weird

yourfan2 @/anonymous ur the only one that thinks that

yourfriendsuser im loving this

liked by author

yourfavblogger it was so obvious istg

Thinking about Hayden 24/7

(the fact that im reading this in class...)

Happy News! Part II

Hayden Christensen, beloved Star Wars actor who portrayed Anakin Skywalker, gets to see his new baby— wait, are those... twins? Oh how ironic! | Fluff, corny Star Wars puns.

“So this is baby A, in his little sac how cute. And next to him is baby B,” points out the ob-gyn with a little grin, the irony of the situation is not lost on her. She's been your doctor since you moved to Canada with Hayden, and considering that he's standing next to you right now, eyes wide with a face of almost horror, she can't help herself, patting your hand once. “Congratulations family, seems like the force will be strong with these two.”

Hayden seems to be almost as white as the wall behind him, fidgeting with your left hand which he had in his. He offers a nervous laugh at the force joke, but it's clear the poor man is feeling almost faint. It was one of those chuckles he gave during awkward interviews. His face said it all, I'm too old for this!

You blink a few times, staring at the ultrasound in disbelief. You know your doctor has been doing this for many years and more to come, but you can't help but question her abilities at this point. It just doesn't sound real.

“Are you sure, doc? Nah, I don't think I can— I mean, two babies? That's... Ffff—”

She lets a small compassionate chuckle, you're not the first nor the last patient that finds herself in denial when hearing the news. Carrying twins? And Hayden Christensen's on top of that? This is too perfect, too funny.

The doctor proceeded to explain everything that you were seeing on the ultrasound, and she's confident that everything points out to a healthy pregnancy. Of course, you'd have to come back for a check-up in a couple of weeks, but the odds were in your favor.

“I will give you a moment,” she says, wiping off the gel from your barely noticeable belly before exiting. She left a good photo of the ultrasound up, for both of you to process it as you fix up your clothes and sit on the bed.

You stare at Hayden, just as anxious, if not more. You're the one who's carrying those babies, a huge responsibility on your shoulders now.

“Please let me know if I have to get up and give you the bed, I don't think I can drag your ass up if you faint.” You joke.

Hayden seems to come back to himself a bit, glaring for a moment. His shoulders seem to relax though.

“... Baby A and baby B. I'm not sure if I should laugh at this or not.” He brings a hand to his sweaty forehead, this time chuckling nervously, but despite his initial shock these news are exciting. His laughter immediately brings out yours. “I'm too old for news like these, Jesus Christ. We need to buy double the things, I have to baby proof the house twice! We gotta pick out two names, as if choosing one wasn't tough enough.” He continues to ramble, mostly speaking about how he had to secure the house in case his kids were total geniuses who would get themselves into trouble.

“Twins. You gave me twins, Hay...” You say, pulling down your shirt, your head spinning. Hayden helps put on your jacket, and he even got you down from the bed, gripping you firmly. He dusts your clothes off for no reason, and even tries to fix up your bun.

“Water? Here's mine, drink.” He orders, taking the cap off and bringing the bottle to your mouth. You stare at him, taking a sip with amusement. He seems awfully focused now. “Slowly my love.”

Yeah, something tells you this man is about to become the most protective being on earth. It makes you giggle, he's always been protective of you since you're much younger than him, it sparked every single primal cell in his body to be your fearless anxious protector. But this? You can already tell this has made that instinct stronger.

“You really are Anakin Skywalker, just... don't go on any violent rampages, please. You'd hurt your back.”

Hayden pinches your cheek teasingly. “You damn brat, you're lucky I'm so in love with you.” He huffs, now wrapping you between his arms. He rests his cheek on the top of your head, just holding you for a whole minute without speaking. Your heart flutters like it always did, this man's presence is enough to make you feel at peace, it was a nearly indescribable feeling, but the closest you could get to put it into words was home. Hayden felt like home. “WE are not naming them Luke and Leia.”

“I didn't say—”

“I know your brain, you brat.” He playfully scolded, making you chuckle at being caught. You were absolutely going to suggest it, you'll even add them at the top of the list. “We don't even know what they are yet.” Hayden adds, to which you shrugged.

“Did you ever think this could be possible? You having twins?” you ask him shyly as his hand caresses the small of your back.

“Hm, to be fair I always thought I would only have Briar. But then I met you, you rocked my world, made me fall in love, then we got married...” He recounts with a humorous tone. “Yeah the thought crossed my mind a couple of times, I found the possibility rather funny.”

“But you're not laughing now,” you tut with mock pity, to which Hayden rolls his eyes playfully. “Heh, wait until Ewan finds out, he's going to get a kick out of this!” you add, making him groan, mumbling something about you being a brat again. Out of all the loving nicknames he has for you, that one is his favorite. You remember one interview where he accidentally referred to you as such. He didn't mean to since he avoids talking about his personal life, the man protects you and the marriage strictly, but that day he accidentally blurted it out when the interviewer mentioned your tendency of sharing TikTok edits of him. That brat, it's all he grumbled while blushing, innocent enough, right? Well fans went crazy over it, the poor man was scandalized with the things you showed him, from TikTok edits with inappropriate songs, to fanfics on Tumblr. Needless to say he didn't go out for a few weeks, something you still found hilarious. He always answered that he didn't have the need to go out during those weeks, but you know better.

You make a vague effort to grab your purse from the chair, but Hayden beats you to it, making a disapproving sound.

“I'll do it, you just walk and look pretty.”

“Haydennn—”

“Come on, sit down until the doc comes back.” He orders again, gently guiding you to the chair, making you huff. “We can stop for a smoothie on our way back home, I'll make you a nice bubble bath, give you a good ol' massage afterwards.”

Your brows are almost immediately raised, hearing him talk. It was amusing to say the least, and you wondered how he would get when you were rounder with his kids. You shake your head, a loving smile adorning your pretty face. You're suspecting he's going to stick to your side like a shadow, and frankly, it doesn't bother you one bit. He wasn't lying when he suggested he'd become unbearable, and now that you know you're having two kids? Ohhh boy.

There's a knock on the door, the doctor making her presence known before getting back in the room. After a couple of minutes you're being dismissed, and just as Hayden promised, you're on your way to get a smoothie. You slurp happily as he drives with all the precautions in the world, but it's hard to get exasperated when he looks so damn happy.

Arcane Imagine;

pairings; Vi/reader

Imagine you and Vi moving in together for the first time.

warnings; fluff, established relationship, love sick!vi, more fluff & comfort, arcane au, implied smut reference, teasing, s*xual jokes

a/n; I recently moved <33 so I wanted to write a lil something for vi I can now get back to writing and making silly lil posts because moving is exhausting as fuck lmao

You and Vi have been thinking about moving in together for the longest time, Vi first thought about it when she laid eyes on you when she saw you at the bar

You were with your friends, hanging out, drinks in hand, laughing along with them, she couldn't stop staring at you, how gorgeous you looked that night, how effortlessly beautiful you are to her

She really was a moth that was drawn to the flame

Because randomly, after meeting you, talking to you for a few hours in some bathroom, she was already attached to you, she didn't say it out loud then, it took her ages to actually tell you she has feelings for you

When she did though, it was the best decision she's made, and the one that didn't go to shit

Vi is always by your side, clinging to you, like a lost puppy, it's adorable, you think, as you do the same to her

But when it's just you two, she really let's down her walls and is just completely herself

When there's others around, she puts on that tough act, your very own scary dog privilege

No one can touch you or talk to you in a wrong way, and if someone upsets you, makes you uncomfortable, well they're in for a beating

Vi does not mind getting her knuckles bloody for you

When you brought up the idea of living together in an apartment, even if it wasn't that big and the rent was high, Vi immediately jumped on board

You found it really fucking cute, watching her ramble excitedly about how you two should decorate your room, apartment, she says how you can have your plants in different places, a nice coffee table, a tv, games, you just really liked listening to her talk

Now when you two did the apartment hunting, that was long and slightly boring, having to meet up with strangers to potentially set a deal on your new home, yes, you were both still very excited, and finally, after trying to find the right one, you both found your home

You got what you could afford, and after signing the lease and getting the keys, you were able to officially move in

The moving was stressful, getting everything together, making sure nothing was lost or broken, Vi kept on worrying about her CDs and DVD collection, same with her other collections she has that she didn't want to lose, stuff that she's kept from her childhood, rare items she's found that people have thrown away for some reason and it's actually worth a lot, Vi likes those stuff, she likes finding good things

You like to add to the collections to, when you find things that remind you of Vi

Vi wouldn't show much of her "nerdy" side to anyone else but you had that special spot

There definitely would be Vi making sex jokes, how the new couch would be perfect to try new positions on, or how the bed might not last that long, for that you slapped her playfully on the shoulder, and she laughed hard

She loved teasing you

And will not stop

Vi never really knew she was ever gonna experience this, just that domestic life filled with good moments that will play a huge part in your life for years, and here she was with you, she did not want to let go

Vi was excited about turning this place into a home that shows the both of you, so when they invited people over they would know immediately

She was crazy for you, in the best way possible and you wouldn't have it anyway else

hi! A fan here! Can you please do a dean x reader where she's a substitute teacher at the school that makes the supernatural play, she turns out to be a hunter as well and she's on the same case as the Winchesters. Thank you so much!

✮⋆˙ the substitute,

summary. the real winchesters come to join the supernatural musical

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 554

notes. thank you so so much for requesting, lovely 😙

The first time Dean sees you, you’re standing at the front of a high school auditorium, wrangling a bunch of teenagers who clearly couldn’t care less about whatever speech you’re giving.

“…And remember, if you forget your lines, just keep going,” you say, clapping your hands. “The audience doesn’t know you messed up unless you tell them.”

Dean leans toward Sam, who’s sitting beside him in the back row. “I don’t get it. Why the hell are we wasting time at a school play?”

Sam sighs. “Because kids keep disappearing from the drama department. And—” He gestures toward the giant banner above the stage.

Supernatural: The Musical!

Dean groans. “Right. ‘Cause that nightmare needed to make a comeback.”

Before Sam can reply, you spot them. Your gaze flickers over the two men in the back, assessing. Then, with a quick word to the students, you step down from the stage and make a beeline for them.

Dean straightens, expecting some kind of lecture about visitor passes or whatever, but when you reach them, you cross your arms and smirk.

“You must be the Winchesters.”

Dean blinks. “Uh—sorry, what?”

You tilt your head. “You guys aren’t as sneaky as you think. And you definitely don’t look like parents of a student here.”

Sam shoots Dean a See? look.

Dean recovers fast, flashing you his signature grin. “Depends. If we say yes, do we get detention?”

You don’t take the bait. Instead, you gesture toward the exit. “Let’s take this outside.”

Dean exchanges a look with Sam before following you into the hallway.

The second the doors swing shut behind them, you turn on your heel. “So, which one of you is the genius who thought it was a good idea to work a case without checking if another hunter was already on it?”

Dean blinks. “Excuse me?”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’ve been here for three weeks investigating these disappearances, and then you two waltz in, stepping all over my toes.”

“You’re a hunter?” Sam asks, surprised.

“Yup.” You pull a small flask from your pocket, unscrewing the lid and taking a swig. “Been tracking this thing since the first kid vanished.”

Dean crosses his arms, studying you. He’s met plenty of hunters in his time, but none quite like you. You seem… comfortable here. Like you actually like the whole teacher thing.

“So, what’s the play?” he asks.

You grin. “Oh, that’s easy. I keep being a responsible adult, and you two try not to traumatize any more students while I figure out where this thing is hiding.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “And what exactly is this thing?”

You hesitate. “Still working on that part.”

Sam frowns. “The bodies—”

“Never found.” You nod. “No sulfur, no EMF, no signs of witchcraft. Just kids vanishing without a trace.”

Dean scratches his jaw, intrigued despite himself. “Alright, teach. You got room for two more on this field trip?”

You smirk. “That depends.”

“On what?”

Your eyes flicker to his. “How well you can follow instructions.”

Dean’s grin is slow and lazy. “Sweetheart, you have no idea how good I am at taking direction.”

Sam groans. “Oh my God.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fine, Winchester. You’re in.”

And just like that, the case—and whatever this is between you and Dean—just got a whole lot more interesting.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @lemonswinchester ⋆ @4k1vrr ⋆ @bejeweledinterludes ( continues in the comments )

જ⁀➴°⋆ BYUNG-HUN’S CONTROVERSIALLY YOUNG GIRLFRIEND

“i swear to god if you become a fashion icon im gonna kill myself”

ᯓ★ his young girlfriend who can’t help but post her sweet and loving boyfriend

part 1

part 2

part 3