ells 💌

the irl sloane tavish also known as a fic machine and emotional pendulum

[its-feminineintuition]

💌 xo ells

hi whatsup its elena....... ill organize this better later but this is going to be my fics and music blog !!!

[its-feminineintuition]

02 — sign of the times

now playing ... harry styles by harry styles. << previous ... 02 ... next >>

why are we always stuck and running from the bullets?

pairings: sloane tavish x celine delacroix wc: 1.7k warnings: blood. implied violence summary: a case goes dangerously wrong, and celine and sloane both end up hurt. ao3 link

Michael Townsend has a feeling that something is very wrong, and he can’t shake it.

They’re supposed to be finding a killer. Him, obviously, and Cassie, Dean, and Lia back at the house, but more importantly, Celine and Sloane, who are supposed to be in the vicinity with him. Except he hasn’t seen either of them in a while. And neither of them are picking up the phone.

Michael calls Cassie.

“Hey, what’s up?” she says, picking up the phone almost instantly. Her tone shifts into one of worry, and Michael can practically picture her facial expression in his head. “Is something wrong?”

“I can’t find the girls,” Michael mumbles, trying not to draw too much attention. In case the killer is watching or something. Which is another nerve-racking thought, to be honest.

“Have you tried calling them?” Lia butts in, suggesting that Cassie put Michael on speakerphone.

“Yes. Both of them.” Michael exhales slowly. “Can you use the trackers?” Agent Sterling’s requirement for when they go out into the field to track down killers is that they have to have a tracker on their person. That way, if something goes wrong, they can be easily found⎼⎼especially since they’re still not technically old enough to be working FBI cases. It’s just a precaution, really. They rarely end up using the trackers. And on the off chance that they do, killers don’t know to look for the trackers and don’t end up finding them, which makes things easy for Agent Sterling and her crew.

Michael hears a keyboard tapping on the other end of the line. “Um… the side alley,” Cassie says, confusion working its way into her voice.

“Both of them?” Michael asks with a frown.

“Yes,” Cassie replies slowly. “Be careful. Something doesn’t… feel right.”

Michael would agree. He weaves his way through the small crowd of the bar and slips out the side door, into a narrow, dimly lit alley. The dim light doesn’t turn out to be a problem. He doesn’t need any brighter light to see all the red spattered across the cement.

Blood.

So much of it.

“Are you there?” Cassie asks on the other end of the line. “Are they there? What’s going on?”

“Should’ve gotten them cameras or something,” Lia mutters, her voice barely audible.

“It’s bad, Colorado,” Michael manages. His throat is dry. His gaze lands on something shiny on the ground⎼⎼two small, silver trackers lying in a small pool of blood. “Get agents here now.”

Sloane might die today.

She has to admit that it might not be the worst thing in the world. Sure, she would die. But she would be able to get away from stuff like this, and get to see Aaron again, and⎼⎼

Oh no. She’s definitely going crazy. How much blood has she lost?

“Sloane,” Celine’s voice whispers. “...Sloane?”

“Awake,” Sloane murmurs. Her brain feels slower than normal, like it’s moving through sludge. She peels her eyes open and slowly watches Celine’s face come into focus above her. There’s a trickle of blood running down the side of Celine’s face, and Sloane slowly lifts her arm to wipe it away, even as her shoulder screams at her and she winces.

“What happened?” Sloane whispers. The floor she’s lying on is cold and the cold is starting to seep through her shirt, so she carefully struggles to push herself up into a sitting position.

“I don’t know,” Celine mumbles, her forehead creasing. “Do you have your tracker?”

Sloane slides her hand into the pocket she always stashes Agent Sterling’s tracker in. Her stomach drops. “...No. Do you?”

Celine shakes her head.

Sloane bites her lip. “What do we do?” she whispers, shivering and then wincing.

“I don’t know,” Celine replies softly. “I guess… I don’t know. We can’t do much.”

She has a point. Sloane glances briefly at herself, then back at Celine. Both of them are badly injured. Even if the way out was obvious and clear, Sloane doesn’t know if both of them would be able to make it out.

“Michael probably noticed we were gone,” Sloane says hopefully. Her fingers worry at each other. “Maybe he already has agents looking.”

“So, I guess… just try not to die,” Celine mutters. Her eyes go out of focus for a second, but they refocus when she blinks.

“I guess,” Sloane agrees hesitantly. She reaches out slowly and grabs Celine’s hand, curling her fingers around Celine’s. “I don’t want to die,” she whispers.

Celine squeezes her hand reassuringly, but Sloane can’t help but notice that it’s a weaker squeeze than normal. “I know.”

“I love you,” Sloane whispers, and then the words just come spilling out of her. “I love you. I don’t say that enough. Why don’t I say that more? I should⎼⎼”

“Shh,” Celine cuts in quietly, sliding closer to Sloane and wrapping her arms around her. “Shh, I know. I love you too, it’s going to be okay.”

Sloane sniffles and buries her face in Celine’s shoulder. She only looks up when Celine’s hold on Sloane starts to relax. Sloane pulls back slowly. “Celine?” she asks softly.

No response. Celine’s eyes are closed.

Panic suddenly floods Sloane’s mind, taking every rational thought with it. “Celine,” she pleads, carefully lowering her girlfriend to the ground and trying to wake her up. “Please. Please wake up. Please don’t die. Please don’t leave me, please.”

A drop of water splashes onto the floor, and Sloane realizes she’s crying. “Please,” she repeats, more desperately this time as the tears start flowing more freely. “Please…”

Sloane’s vision gets dark around the edges. No, no, no. This is it. She’s going to die, and Celine’s going to die, and they’re both going to die.

“Please,” Sloane whispers again, her voice cracking. She sniffles and swipes at her tears. The black creeps in even more to her vision, and Sloane decides she can’t fight it. She lies down next to Celine, reaching out and curling her fingers around Celine’s.

“I love you,” Sloane murmurs again, and then her eyes close and the blackness swallows her.

Michael hates waiting. Especially in this case, since he’s waiting for news from Sterling, waiting to find out whether or not the girls are still alive. His phone rings, and he snatches it up, quickly setting it to speakerphone as Cassie, Dean, and Lia crowd around him. “Did you find them?” he asks without preamble.

“Yes,” Sterling replies. She sounds relieved. “They’re both still alive, but it’s going to be a close one.”

Michael bites his lip. “What hospital?”

Sterling sighs. “I know better than to try and keep you four away.” She gives them an address, claiming that Celine and Sloane are probably already there by now, and hangs up.

“Can we go?” Cassie asks hesitantly.

Michael grins at her, but it lacks some of his usual bravado. “I thought you’d never ask.”

It’s a fairly short drive to the hospital Sterling directed them to. Dean does all the talking when they get there, something Michael would usually handle if he wasn’t currently incredibly shaken. Sterling said it would be a close one. That means there’s a chance one or both of them doesn’t make it.

Michael needs them to make it. He needs them to both be alive. He needs both of them to be okay.

When they finally reach the right floor, Michael hesitates. Dean comes up behind him and rests his hand on Michael’s shoulder briefly. “Go find your sister,” he says quietly. “We’ll check on Sloane.”

Michael does. He doesn’t know if he’s capable of making a decision right now, capable of anything but wanting the girls to be alive.

He finds Celine after a few minutes of peeking into rooms. Sterling comes in shortly after him. “They’re both alive,” she promises, quietly but firmly. “Full recovery expected.”

Michael swallows and nods shakily. His throat is dry. God, he hates this.

Slowly, he moves to stand next to the bed. He reaches out and finds Celine’s hand under the blanket, curling his fingers around hers and squeezing.

Please be okay. He needs her to be okay.

When they were kids, Celine was always looking out for Michael. She was really the only person he had for a long time. She was the one who took care of him. Now, Michael figures, it’s his turn. He’ll make sure she’s okay, because she has to be.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if she’s not.

The girls are in the hospital for three weeks. Michael hears a full list of everything that happened to them, but afterwards he only remembers bits and pieces. Fractured ribs this. Concussions that. Lots of bleeding. He isn’t sure. He just cares that they’re both going to be okay.

Michael and Lia stay with the girls the most for those three weeks, alternating between rooms fairly frequently. No one talks about what happened. Sloane always asks about Celine. Celine always asks about Sloane. Michael jokes that they should install some sort of intercom system, but it’s mainly just to cover up his worry.

The cases don’t stop. Michael, Lia, Dean, and Cassie are working one the day Sterling brings the girls home. When Michael and the others return from the crime scene they were visiting, Sterling is nowhere in sight, but Celine and Sloane are curled up together in a very impromptu-looking blanket nest on the living room floor, both of them half-asleep.

Michael moves to stand by them. “Did you make this?” he asks, almost teasingly.

“Yes,” Sloane mumbles, her eyes closed. “Hi, Michael.”

“Do you want something?” Celine asks, peeking up at him.

Michael puts on his most charming smile. “Can I join?”

“Yes,” Sloane says, at the same time that Celine says, “Sure.”

Michael plops down on the pile of blankets and curls up next to them. As he listens to their soft breathing slowly even out, he can’t help but feel a small seed of relief planted deep in his chest.

They’re going to be okay. He knows it.

© its-feminineintuition 2026

[its-feminineintuition]

EVER SINCE NEW YORK

now playing: harry styles by harry styles

master post. for a series of jlb fics, each one titled with a lyric from each song off the album.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ elena says: i have to finish this if i start slacking yell at me ok ty <3 shout out to @hs4atm1dnight who picked this album for me to do

01 — meet me in the hallway

cause once you go without it, nothing else will do 1k words. gigi. what happened when gigi got picked up from the bar.

02 — sign of the times

why are we always stuck and running from the bullets? 1.7k words. celine x sloane. a case goes dangerously wrong, and celine and sloane both end up hurt.

03 — carolina

how could you ever turn her down?

04 — two ghosts

we're just two ghosts standin in the place of you and me

05 — sweet creature

when i run out of road, you bring me home

06 — only angel

i must admit i thought i'd like to make you mine!

07 — kiwi

she worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes

08 — ever since new york

i've been praying ever since new york

09 — woman

should we just search romantic comedies on netflix and then see what we find?

10 — from the dining table

why won't you ever be the first one to break?

© its-feminineintuition 2026

[its-feminineintuition]

01 — meet me in the hallway

now playing ... harry styles by harry styles. << previous ... 01 ... next >>

cause once you go without it, nothing else will do

pairings: gigi grayson x introspection wc: 1k warnings: none summary: what happened after gigi left mattias and eve and went into the bar. ao3 link

Gigi sat by herself in the bar. It was, in fact, rather seedy. But someone Hawthorne-adjacent was going to find her, and hopefully get her in contact with everyone on the island, because Gigi had capital-N News.

Everything that was happening was big. And, admittedly, a little scary. But Gigi wouldn’t admit to anyone that she was scared. She’d keep pushing, probably with a smile on her face, because that was what she did. That’s what she’d done when she’d been trying to protect Savannah from The Secret.

Look at what’s happening, though, a tiny, decidedly not optimistic voice said in Gigi’s head. That didn’t work.

Gigi did her best to ignore that voice. She tried to run back over all the information she’d learned from Calla⎼⎼the Watcher, the Woman in Red⎼⎼and Zella, but her mind kept going back to what Mattias had told her, right before she’d walked away from him, closer to the bar.

Stay out of trouble, sunshine.

Let’s play a game. It’s called You Don’t Need to Prove a Damn Thing. To anyone. It’s called You’re Already Strong.

Gigi felt a lump in her throat. She tried to swallow it, but it didn’t go away.

You’re already strong.

Was that true? Gigi had thought keeping The Secret, holding it together, would make her strong. She was fairly certain that it hadn’t.

All Gigi’s life, Savannah had been the strong twin. The twin that holds it together. Gigi wanted, so badly, to be a little more like Savannah. A little stronger. A little more capable.

Instead, all she’d gotten was kidnapped. Twice.

And I didn’t even get a T-shirt, she thought to herself, then grinned. Oh, that was a good line. She’d have to use that on somebody.

By the time Knox⎼⎼whom Gigi had not been expecting to come find her (after all, she didn’t really think of him as Hawthorne-adjacent)⎼⎼showed up, Gigi had done a lot of thinking.

She wasn’t entirely sure how long she’d been sitting by herself in the bar. No one had said anything to her, or told her to leave, or anything, so she’d just kept sitting there and thinking and thinking and thinking. In fact, she might have even been a little tired of thinking.

But she’d kept thinking anyway. What she needed to tell everyone on the island. What she needed to tell Grayson. What she needed to tell Savannah. It was a never-ending list of things to tell people, honestly.

Knox didn’t say much to Gigi until they were outside the bar. Then he turned to her and asked, “Are you okay?”

Gigi blinked and then grinned at him. “I am more than okay. I’m excellent.”

“So you weren’t hurt?” Knox confirmed.

“I was not,” Gigi replied confidently. In all honesty, his questions had sort of thrown her. To be fair, someone could have told him to ask those questions. But that didn’t seem like why he’d asked. It seemed like he’d asked because he cared. Because he’d actually been worried about Gigi.

…Which, the more Gigi thought about it, made some sense. When she’d tripped and hit her head on the way to the beach post-Grandest Escape Room, Brady hadn’t been the one to come back for her. Knox had.

Gigi thought that over.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Knox asked her, approaching a car.

Gigi trailed after him. “I, like I said, am excellent. Why?”

Knox shrugged, climbing in the car. “You’re quiet.”

Quiet. Right. Gigi wasn’t the quiet twin.

To be fair, Savannah wasn’t necessarily quiet either. Savannah just put up more walls. She closed people out, especially when she was upset. Gigi, on the other hand⎼⎼she smiled harder. She tried to fix things. She worked harder to maintain her relationships.

Although, she hadn’t been working to maintain her relationship with Savannah lately.

Gigi was sure Savannah would understand, though. Gigi had only created that space between them so she didn’t end up spilling The Secret. That had been her way to prove that she could be the strong twin, the responsible twin.

But at what cost? the tiny, decidedly not optimistic voice in the back of Gigi’s head asked.

The voice, unfortunately, had a point. Would Gigi and Savannah be able to fix their relationship after this? Would they be able to put this behind them?

Would they ever go back to their Savannah-and-Gigi rhythm?

Gigi wasn’t sure. But admitting that to herself was too scary, so she shook her head to clear the thoughts away and focused in on Knox. “You were looking for me,” she said suspiciously.

“Yes.” Knox’s eyes met Gigi’s, for half a second. “A certain Hawthorne is worried.”

He probably meant Grayson. Actually, scratch that. He definitely meant Grayson.

Knox kept talking, although it was really more to himself than to Gigi. “I should call Alisa,” she heard him mutter. “Let her know… What is it, Happy?”

Gigi blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’ve got a look on your face. You learned something.”

“Yes,” Gigi admitted. Multiple somethings, in fact. She nodded energetically. “You should call Alisa. I can tell her everything.”

Knox glanced at her again. Gigi could see the questions in his eyes, and wondered if he was thinking about Calla Thorp. She was certainly a part of Gigi’s everything. Whatever Knox was wondering about, though, he didn’t ask. Maybe he would later. Maybe he wouldn’t.

“Please?” Gigi asked, when Knox made no move to go for his phone. “They’ll at least want to know you found me. I’m not above begging. Or puppy-dog eyes.”

Knox grimaced. “No need for any of that. I’ll call.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed. After a few seconds, the phone began to ring, and Knox handed it to Gigi wordlessly.

Gigi took the phone and squinted at the contact on the screen. He was calling Alisa. “You’re not even going to tell her yourself?” Gigi asked, a little incredulously.

Knox just shrugged. “You’re capable.”

The phone stopped ringing. “Hello?” Alisa’s voice asked.

“Hello,” Gigi declared. “It’s Gigi! Are you sitting down? I have a lot to tell you.”

© its-feminineintuition 2026

[its-feminineintuition]

02 — r u mine?

now playing ... AM by arctic monkeys. << previous ... 02 ... next >>

i go crazy, cause here isn’t where i wanna be!

pairings: sadie-grace x boone wc: 1k warnings: none summary: sadie-grace and boone's first date, supervised by lily and sawyer in case anything goes wrong. ao3 link

Sadie-Grace checked her phone nervously for what had to be the millionth time. Sawyer caught her looking and snorted. “Are you still waiting for him to text? It’s barely been two minutes since you replied to him.”

Sadie-Grace’s foot was now doing little circles on the floor. This would surely morph into dancing very soon. “Sometimes,” she replied, “people reply very quickly.”

“You’re a fast replier, aren’t you?” Sawyer asked, leaning back in her chair and stretching her hands over her head. The two of them, plus Lily, were occupying a corner table in a tiny local cafe that Lily had raved about for at least two hours beforehand. Sadie-Grace and Boone were supposed to have their first date here. Sawyer and Lily were present as backup⎼⎼in case something went wrong.

Something usually went wrong.

“You might not be aware of this,” Sadie-Grace told Sawyer seriously, “but things usually go wrong in my relationships.”

“I’m sort of aware,” Sawyer replied. “You break boys, right?”

Sadie-Grace nodded fervently.

“She doesn’t break all of them, per se,” Lily chimed in delicately. “There are just… accidents.”

“So you’re saying,” Sawyer interpreted, “it’s Murphy’s law? Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong?”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Lily replied primly.

“Well, good thing I just explained what it is.”

“However,” Lily continued, ignoring Sawyer, “it does seem to be a fitting description.”

Sadie-Grace’s phone chimed, and she quickly read the text before exhaling in relief. “There was not a car crash,” she reported happily.

“Were you expecting there to be a car crash?” Sawyer asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

“You never know.” Sadie-Grace squeezed her phone in her hand and peered out the window. “I guess I should go wait at a different table?”

“If he’s close, that would be a good idea,” Lily agreed.

Sadie-Grace stood up, her foot still tapping nervously.

Sawyer pulled out a pair of sunglasses from seemingly nowhere. She passed them to Lily and then produced another pair that she put on herself. “Guess we’re going incognito.”

“We’re inside,” Lily argued. “This will make us look more suspicious.”

“Sunglasses indoors is the new fashion trend, Lily.”

“I assure you, it is not.”

“Then I’ll make it one.” Sawyer pushed her sunglasses up her nose and flashed Lily a confident smile. “Watch and learn, Lily. Watch and learn.”

Sadie-Grace picked a table across the cafe from Sawyer and Lily, far enough that she couldn’t hear them arguing about sunglasses and the current fashion trends (both things that Sadie-Grace did not pay much attention to on a regular basis). She waited as patiently as she could, leaning forward ever so slightly to get the clearest view of the door. After two minutes, the bell chimed, signaling the door was opening, and Boone Mason walked in.

It took absolutely everything in Sadie-Grace to not break out into ballet steps right there in the cafe. She lifted her hand as if to wave at him, and he caught sight of the movement and started towards her. “Good morning,” he said when he was close enough, tipping an imaginary hat in her direction.

Sadie-Grace straightened her posture. “Good morning,” she chirped.

Well. They were off to a surprisingly calm start.

“It’s the weirdest thing,” Boone continued, sliding into the chair across from Sadie-Grace and leaning forward conspiratorially, like he was about to share a life-changing secret. “That girl wearing sunglasses looks really familiar.”

Sadie-Grace blinked at him. “In what way?”

Boone shrugged. “I have no idea. She just does.”

“Maybe you recognize her aura,” Sadie-Grace said thoughtfully.

Boone winked at her. “Valid possibility.”

Sadie-Grace felt her cheeks flush. She steepled her hands on the table and changed the subject. “What are we supposed to talk about?”

“Whatever, I guess,” Boone replied, shrugging again.

Sadie-Grace was tempted to send a panicked look in Sawyer and Lily’s direction. The only reason she didn’t was because Boone would see it. They had not prepared enough for first-date conversation. Instead, they had several contingency plans in place for if something went wrong.

Which Sadie-Grace was expecting.

“Uh… what’s your favorite color?” Boone asked.

“Pink,” Sadie-Grace replied. “I also like blue,” she added thoughtfully. “Very light blue. Like a gender reveal.”

Boone considered this. To Sadie-Grace’s relief, he did not seem to find this extremely weird.

“What about you?” Sadie-Grace asked, shifting her position so she was sitting on her hands.

Boone gave the matter great thought. “Dark green,” he finally decided. He thought for a few more seconds, and then changed the topic. “Do you think Sawyer’s going to end up with anyone?”

Sadie-Grace’s brows furrowed together. “I don’t know. Why?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not interested in her,” Boone quickly continued. “However, you cannot deny she is very… magnetic.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” Sadie-Grace asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Unclear.” Boone leaned forward a little. “I can certainly say that you are also incredibly magnetic, but definitely in a good way.”

Or maybe a bad way. Depending on your perspective.

“I don’t know about that,” Sadie-Grace replied thoughtfully, squeezing the edge of the table.

Boone arched his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Sadie-Grace hesitated for a second, unsure if she should share her stories of breaking boys on the first date or if that waited until they made it to a second date. Eventually, she gave in to the urge to tell him. “I… break boys,” she admitted.

“You break them?”

“Yes.”

“Fortunately, I am indestructible.”

This did not seem remotely likely to Sadie-Grace, but she let it slide. She changed the topic again, and let their conversation bounce from topic to topic. As the afternoon wore on, Sadie-Grace found herself slowly not glancing nervously at Lily and Sawyer or running through possible escape plans in her head. It was sort of a strange concept, but she was having fun.

When Sadie-Grace and Boone finally parted ways, Sadie-Grace was relieved to report to Lily and Sawyer that she had successfully not broken a boy for once.

“He ran into the door on his way out,” Sawyer noted, temporarily ruining the mood. “But I think he’s just clumsy.” She shook her head. “Congratulations.”

© its-feminineintuition 2026

[its-feminineintuition]

got way too drunk off a vodka cranberry

now playing: vodka cranberry by conan gray pairings: dean x cassie wc: 1.1k warnings: none summary: cassie gets a little too drunk out with lia and calls dean note: fic 2/2 unless i mysteriously write another @thenaturalshq ao3 link

Cassie is drunk.

This is probably a problem, if she’s being honest. It’s just her and Lia at this random bar Cassie’s never heard of before (Sloane declined the invite, as she and Celine had plans), and Cassie has no idea where Lia is. She’s tried calling Lia a few times, but chances are good Lia’s drunk herself and maybe hooking up with a random guy or something. Cassie doesn’t know.

Impulsively, she unlocks her phone and navigates to Dean’s contact. He might be mad that she’s super wasted, but he’ll probably pick her up regardless. She presses the phone to her ear and hopes that he’ll pick up.

“Hello? Cass?”

“Hi,” Cassie says, her voice about five times breathier than it normally is.

“What’s going on? I thought you were out with Lia.” Cassie can hear movement on the other end of the line.

“I am,” Cassie replies. “I was.”

“Where’s Lia?”

“I don’t know.”

The other end of the line is quiet for a few seconds. “Cass, are you drunk?”

“Um… yeah,” Cassie replies, feeling a loopy half-smile spread across her face. “Can you pick me up?”

“How did you get separated from Lia?” Dean asks instead of answering.

“I don’t know,” Cassie complains. “In a crowd? Can you just come get me?”

“Where are⎼⎼ Never mind, you might not know,” Dean says, cutting himself off. “I’ll get your location.”

“It’s not far from the house,” Cassie volunteers helpfully.

Dean doesn’t reply for a few seconds, and Cassie checks her phone screen twice to make sure he hasn’t hung up. “Yeah, you’re close,” he says finally, and Cassie exhales in relief. “I’ll be there in like five minutes. Maybe wait outside?”

“Okay,” Cassie says.

A slender Asian girl bumps into Cassie, and it takes her several blinks to realize it’s Lia. “Where have you been?” she asks.

“Where have you been?” Lia counters, smirking. “You’ve been missing all the fun.”

“Dean is on his way,” Cassie says, leaning against the wall. Her head feels very heavy. 

Lia makes a face. “Why is Dean on his way?”

“Because I couldn’t find you,” Cassie insists.

Lia peers at Cassie. “Oh, you are so wasted.”

“I know,” Cassie grumbles.

“So you called Dean?” Lia asks.

Cassie nods. Her head spins.

“At least we’re close,” Lia replies with a shrug. “I’m staying, though.”

“I don’t think Dean will like that,” Cassie says.

“Well, chances are good you told him you were calling because you couldn’t find me,” Lia counters. “So he just never has to find out that we had this brief interaction.” She pats Cassie on the shoulder. “Good luck with your boy, and I’ll see you when I see you.”

She vanishes into the crowd before Cassie can convince her otherwise.

Cassie stays in her spot in the corner until her phone buzzes with a text from Dean. 

Dean: i’m outside

By some miracle, Cassie makes it outside. Dean is just outside the door, and he catches Cassie when she stumbles into him. “You weren’t kidding,” he mumbles. “You’re definitely drunk.”

“Are you mad?” Cassie asks, looking up at him⎼⎼or at least what she can make out of him through her fuzzy vision. The world is spinning a little.

“No, I’m not mad,” Dean replies gently. “I’m here to take care of you.”

“Okay,” Cassie murmurs. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can walk.”

By the time Dean gets back to the house with Cassie in tow, Cassie is half-asleep in the backseat. She’s sitting up, since Dean had insisted she wear a seatbelt, but her head is tipped against the window and her eyes are closed.

Dean gets out of the car and opens Cassie’s door very carefully so she doesn’t slump too far sideways without the door there to lean on. He unbuckles the seatbelt and lifts her out of the car.

Cassie stirs. “Huh? Where are we?” she asks groggily.

“Back at the house,” Dean replies. 

“Ohh,” Cassie murmurs. “My head hurts.”

“I bet,” Dean says. “We’ll get you some water.”

He carries her inside and into her room, gently lowering her onto the bed. She’s already half-asleep again, so he slips into the bathroom to get water before she notices his absence. He comes back into the room and gently taps Cassie’s shoulder until her eyes flutter open.

“What is it?” she mumbles.

Dean offers her the glass. “Here, drink this,” he instructs.

Cassie does as directed, taking the glass with a slightly shaky hand and pouring the water down her throat. “I don’t feel good,” she mutters.

Dean isn’t surprised by that. “Sleep will help,” he suggests.

“Mm,” Cassie murmurs. She hesitates, then asks, “Can you stay? Please?”

“Of course,” Dean replies, climbing onto the bed next to her. He smoothes Cassie’s hair back, away from her face.

It’s quiet for a long time, and Dean’s sure Cassie’s fallen asleep until she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Dean asks.

Cassie mutters something unintelligible and shifts onto her side. “I shouldn’t have gotten this drunk,” she mumbles. “Then I made you come deal with it, and⎼⎼”

“No, Cass, listen,” Dean interrupts. “You don’t need to apologize for needing help.”

Cassie doesn’t seem convinced. “I probably woke you up.”

“No, I was awake,” Dean says honestly. He’d been having one of those nights where he couldn’t sleep, so actually, picking Cassie up had been a nice distraction for him. “I promise. None of this was a problem for me. Don’t apologize.”

Cassie hesitates, then exhales. “Okay,” she mumbles, her eyes fluttering shut. “Sorry for apologizing.”

Dean cracks a smile at that.

Cassie’s quiet for a few more seconds, then says, “I’m gonna feel this tomorrow, aren’t I?”

“Oh, you definitely are,” Dean replies. “But I’ll be there.”

“For what?” Cassie asks groggily.

Dean doesn’t hesitate. “To take care of you. That’s what I’m here to do.”

“That’s great,” Cassie mumbles. “How much does it pay?”

“It doesn’t pay.”

“It should,” Cassie insists. “I have a lot of problems.”

“It doesn’t need to pay,” Dean corrects. “At least, not with money.”

“Then how does it pay?”

“When I see you happy,” Dean replies quietly. “That’s how it pays.”

“Really?” Cassie asks softly.

“Really,” Dean confirms.

Cassie’s quiet again for a while, then she says, “It pays to see you happy, too.”

“Does it?” Dean asks.

“Mmhmm.” Cassie curls in closer to him. “I guess that’s whenever I’m happy.”

“Pretty much,” Dean replies.

“So you’ll be there tomorrow?” Cassie asks nervously.

“Obviously,” Dean says. “Tomorrow and every day after that. I’ll always be there for you, Cassie.”

© its-feminineintuition 2026

[its-feminineintuition]

nothing this good ever lasts this long for me

now playing: come down soon by lizzy mcalpine pairings: dean x cassie wc: 1k warnings: none summary: cassie tells dean she's pregnant note: first day of naturals week letsgo!!! @thenaturalshq ao3 link

Cassie drops the pregnancy test onto the counter. “Dean!” she calls. “Dean!”

“Are you okay?” Dean’s voice calls through the door almost instantly. “What happened?”

“Come in here,” Cassie calls back, her words infused with excitement. “It’s important!”

The doorknob turns, and Dean sticks his head in, his brown eyes filled with worry. “What’s going on?”

Cassie picks up the test and brandishes it at him. “Look!”

Dean studies it. “What do the two lines mean?”

Cassie lowers the test and stares at him in surprise. “You don’t know?”

“Well, I haven’t done any research on⎼⎼”

“It’s not hard to do research,” Cassie replies. “I looked it up weeks ago!”

“Weeks ago?” Dean repeats. “Why were you looking it up weeks⎼⎼ You know what, never mind,” he says, cutting himself off. “What does it mean?”

“I’m pregnant!” Cassie bursts out.

Dean’s jaw drops. 

Cassie’s hands worry at each other, her adrenaline spike fading into sudden nerves. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, I⎼⎼ God, of course not!” Dean replies. His expression splits into a grin. “You’re pregnant. Cass, I⎼⎼that’s⎼⎼” He trails off, blinking hard.

“Are you crying?” Cassie asks in disbelief, her nerves vanishing in a split second.

“No.”

“Liar,” Cassie teases. She laughs and throws her arms around Dean. “I’m pregnant,” she repeats. “We’re going to have a kid. Oh my God!”

Dean hugs her back. “You certainly seem happy,” he says quietly.

“I am,” Cassie replies, her eyes watering despite her earlier teasing of Dean for crying. “Oh my God, we’re gonna be parents. We’re going to be parents!” She hugs Dean tighter. “We’re not going to be horrible parents, are we?” she asks, another sudden rush of nerves coming out of nowhere.

“You’ll be a great mom,” Dean promises.

“I can see you as a girl dad,” Cassie says thoughtfully.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “You think so?”

Cassie nods. “Yeah, I don’t know, I just see it.”

Dean snorts. “Well. I haven’t given it much thought, so if you think so. As long as I’m not like my father.”

“You won’t be,” Cassie swears. “You’ll be an amazing dad.” She pulls back and swipes at her eyes. “Oh my God, this is huge,” she says, a tiny giggle slipping out. “Who do we tell first?”

“Who do you want to tell first?” Dean counters.

“I guess we should tell Tanner and Veronica,” Cassie starts, thinking out loud. “And the other Naturals.” She shivers. “Can we both agree that Michael and Lia should never babysit together?”

“I agree with that,” Dean replies seriously. “For the same reasons they’re not allowed to babysit the twins together.”

“Or Laurel. I guess it’s fine if they’re with someone else,” Cassie concedes. “Like, Michael and I have babysat before together. But him and Lia together?” She shivers again. “That is a terrifying thought.”

Dean snorts. “I wouldn’t tell them that.”

“Lia would probably take it as a compliment,” Cassie replies. “I feel bad for their kids. If they ever decide to have kids.” She snaps her fingers. “Oh, Laurel! We could tell Laurel, and maybe Kane Darby, too? If you want?”

“Cass, this is really your news,” Dean says gently, taking Cassie’s hands in his. “You’re the one who’s pregnant, not me. I’m not going to stop you from telling whoever you want to.”

Cassie nods. “Okay. So. Just be warned, Nonna is probably going to freak out.”

“Your grandmother?” Dean asks.

Cassie nods again. “She really likes kids. I mean, you’ve seen the way she treats Laurel, and they’re not even related by blood.”

“You have a point,” Dean agrees.

Cassie bounces up and down on the balls of her feet. “Tanner and Veronica aren’t here right now,” she says thoughtfully. “So we could start with the other Naturals?”

“I think that sounds good,” Dean replies, gently squeezing Cassie’s hands. “The good news is that Veronica’s pregnancy already got Sloane’s morbid pregnancy facts out of the way.”

Cassie snorts. “That was… a time. Didn’t they have a conversation about, like, what statistics are appropriate to share?”

“Oh, definitely,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “It didn’t entirely stop her, though.”

“Yeah, well, she’s Sloane,” Cassie replies. “I’m pretty sure nothing entirely stops her statistics.”

Dean chuckles. “Could be.”

Cassie hesitates. “I don’t want to tell anyone right now,” she says, dropping her voice to just above a whisper. “Can we wait? Like five minutes?”

“Whatever you want,” Dean replies.

Cassie nods. “Are you hoping for a girl or a boy?”

Dean takes his time responding. “Either would be amazing,” he says quietly after several seconds. “Just having a kid with you… I mean. But you said I would make a good girl dad, so… I’ll go with that.” He studies Cassie. “What about you?”

“I’m hoping for a girl, too,” Cassie admits. “I… I don’t know. I guess it’s like you said, either would be great, but I would love having a daughter.”

“I can see you with a daughter,” Dean replies.

Cassie grins at him. “I can see us with a daughter,” she counters confidently.

“Well, whatever gender, I’m hoping they get your hair,” Dean says.

Cassie raises her eyebrows. “Really?”

“It’s gorgeous,” Dean replies. 

“Are you sure you don’t want our kid to look like you?” Cassie teases.

Dean smiles softly at her. “I think I’d rather have them look like you.”

“Why, so you can basically have two of me?”

“Obviously.”

Cassie snorts. “One’s not enough?”

“I certainly wouldn’t pass up the chance to have a mini version of you,” Dean replies. 

“Then I guess we’re hoping for a mini version of me,” Cassie says. She pauses for a second, her gaze flitting all over the bathroom. “I’m so excited,” she whispers. “We’re going to have a kid!” She drops Dean’s hands and launches herself at him again. 

“Now you’re crying,” Dean teases.

“You still are, too!” Cassie protests. “What if your crying made me cry?”

“I’m not positive it did.”

“What if it did?” Cassie insists, half laughing and half crying. “We’ll never know.”

“But we do know one thing,” Dean says. “Everything’s going to be fine. We’re going to be great parents.”

“That’s two things,” Cassie corrects.

“Okay, fine, we know two things.” Dean pulls back and meets Cassie’s eyes, resting his hands on her shoulders. “One: everything’s going to be fine. Two: we’re going to be great parents.”

Cassie believes it.

© its-feminineintuition 2026

[its-feminineintuition]

i barely deserve it if you do stay (i wish you would anyway)

now playing: hit the wall by gracie abrams pairings: celine x sloane wc: 1k warnings: blood i guess summary: celine helps sloane through her nightmares note: happy pride take some sapphics ao3 link

Blood.

There’s so much blood.

Sloane has seen blood before, of course she has. But this is different.

This is her brother’s blood.

Sloane can’t stop looking at her brother’s body. Dead. He’s dead. She wasn’t fast enough. She couldn’t save him.

Why couldn’t she save him? Why couldn’t she do this right?

There’s more blood now. It’s gushing out of his neck, filling the room; Sloane’s drowning in it. Blood. Everywhere. She can’t breathe. She can’t⎼⎼

Sloane jerks awake, gasping. She still can’t breathe. What’s wrong with her?

“Sloane?” Celine’s voice asks. Sloane doesn’t look at her; she can’t move, she’s just stuck in place, shaking. “Sloane,” Celine repeats, more urgently. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

Sloane opens her mouth, but instead of saying something⎼⎼like she intended⎼⎼she just starts sobbing.

“Oh,” Celine murmurs. She wraps her arms around Sloane, cradling Sloane’s body against hers. She doesn’t say anything more, just holds Sloane while Sloane cries until she physically can’t anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Sloane finally whispers.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Celine tells her.

Sloane sniffles. “I woke you up⎼⎼”

“What happened?” Celine cuts in.

Sloane curls further into Celine. “I had a bad dream,” she admits. “It was… it was about Aaron.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Celine asks.

Sloane shakes her head firmly. 

If that bothers Celine, she doesn’t show it. “What do you need?” she asks.

Sloane thinks about it for a few seconds. “I don’t know,” she finally admits. “I just need to… stop thinking about it.”

“So you need a distraction,” Celine translates.

“I guess,” Sloane replies hesitantly. Her gaze goes out the window. “Will you come outside with me?” she asks hopefully.

“Sure,” Celine replies. “Anything specific in mind?”

“Yes,” Sloane decides. “I want to look at the stars.”

When Sloane first joined the program and came to Quantico, she spent every sleepless night lying on the grass in the backyard looking up at the stars. They were nothing like in Vegas, thanks to all the light pollution there. Sloane had been so fascinated by the stars, by how many she could see. The sheer amount of stars she can see still shocks her a little.

Sloane lies down on the grass. Celine follows suit.

Normally, Sloane would probably talk Celine’s ear off about constellations. But that isn’t what she does this time. Instead, she settles for their comfortable silence.

“I used to come out here all the time,” Sloane blurts out, when she finally can’t take the silence anymore. “To look at the stars.”

Celine turns her head to look at Sloane. “Do you not anymore?”

“Not really,” Sloane admits. “It’s now eighty-three percent more likely for someone to be out here at night than it used to be.” She pauses for a second. “Dean, Cassie, and Michael all come out here to swim in the middle of the night sometimes.”

“Michael?” Celine asks. “Really?”

Sloane nods. “Not as much as Dean and Cassie. But sometimes.” She hesitates. “He doesn’t anymore,” she concedes. “Not since he got shot.”

“I still can’t believe that,” Celine mutters. “But I’m also not entirely surprised by it.”

“Statistically speaking, Michael is the most likely person to get shot out of all of us,” Sloane notes. “Cassie is second-most likely.”

“Any reasoning behind that?”

“Cassie gets kidnapped a lot,” Sloane says matter-of-factly. “Or she did.”

They go quiet.

Sloane stares up at the sky. This isn’t working. It should be distracting her, but it’s not, she doesn’t know why it⎼⎼

“What’s your favorite color?” Celine asks.

Sloane blinks in surprise. “What?”

“Your favorite color,” Celine repeats. “I don’t know it.”

“Oh,” Sloane replies. She screws up her face, thinking. “I think blue.”

“You think?”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Sloane defends. 

“Blue looks pretty on you,” Celine notes.

Sloane blushes and is suddenly very thankful for the darkness. “You think so?”

“Yeah. It suits you.”

Sloane rolls onto her side and cuddles up next to Celine. For once, she doesn’t have anything to rattle off in the silence. It’s comfortable⎼⎼but when it’s quiet, snippets of her dream keep coming back. “Ask me something else,” she says abruptly.

“Um… okay,” Celine replies. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Blueberries,” Sloane says instantly.

Celine snorts. “Right. How could I forget? Maybe that’s why you said your favorite color is blue.”

“Maybe,” Sloane agrees. “There are actually several other foods that are naturally blue.”

“Tried any?”

“No,” Sloane admits.

“What’s your favorite thing to experiment on in the basement?”

“Um, glass is interesting,” Sloane says. “You can do a lot of different things with glass.” She doesn’t mention that she is eighty-nine percent more likely to accidentally hurt herself when she’s working with glass as compared to any other thing down there.

“Really? Like what?”

Celine sounds genuinely curious, so Sloane elaborates. “Well, you can break or shatter it,” she starts. “That’s the obvious one. Glass can also be melted, which makes it flexible.”

“Let me guess,” Celine says. “You’ve done both.”

“Yes,” Sloane replies proudly. She yawns and focuses her attention back on the stars.

“Tired?” Celine asks softly.

“A little,” Sloane concedes. “But…”

“Your dreams,” Celine finishes knowingly.

Sloane nods. She’s quiet for a few seconds, then she asks, “Do you think it’s bad that I would stay with my family over the Naturals program if they wanted me?”

Celine thinks for several seconds, during which Sloane’s nerves gradually increase. “No, I don’t think it’s bad,” she says finally. “I think it’s… well, natural. To want to stay with your family.”

“But they don’t want me,” Sloane replies softly.

“I’m not sure this is going to help with distracting you,” Celine says cautiously.

Sloane presses further into her. “It might,” she says doubtfully.

“Your thoughts are always going, aren’t they?” Celine asks, tracing her finger along the side of Sloane’s face.

“Yes,” Sloane mumbles.

“Okay, let’s try something,” Celine says. She digs around in her sweatshirt pocket and pulls out a pair of earbuds, handing one to Sloane. 

Sloane hesitantly puts it in. “What is this for?” she asks.

“We’re going to try something,” Celine says, pulling her phone out of the pocket next. “To try and get your brain to think about something else.”

“Okay,” Sloane replies slowly.

Celine starts a playlist, and the two of them lie there together in the backyard, Sloane curled up against Celine and the stars above them, until Sloane falls asleep.

This time, she doesn’t dream.

© its-feminineintuition 2026

[its-feminineintuition]

you walk into a room and people fall for you (how i wanna be like you)

now playing: showed me (how i fell in love with you) by madison beer pairings: lia & sloane wc: 1.3k warnings: mild sexual references summary: lia notices something is up with sloane and drags her through girl talk. note: devastating lack of lia and sloane fics ao3 link

Sloane would never admit it to Lia’s face, but she’s jealous of Lia.

Not just in the obvious way⎼⎼Lia can lie, and Sloane can’t⎼⎼but in so many other ways. Lia is pretty. She’s confident. She’s fearless. She’s everything Sloane’s not but wishes she were.

Lia looks up from where she’s painting her nails at the coffee table, and Sloane quickly looks away, pretending she wasn’t staring at Lia. Lia sighs. “Come on, genius. I know you were staring.”

“I just… zoned out,” Sloane replies defensively.

“Mmhmm. Technically true.” Lia leans forward and raises her eyebrows challengingly. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Sloane mumbles.

Lia narrows her eyes, the tiniest bit. “Well. It’s obvious.”

“What’s obvious?” Sloane asks, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“We need to have some girl talk,” Lia declares, standing up.

Sloane’s eyes go wide. “Oh⎼⎼I⎼⎼I’m not good at that,” she stammers.

“You know what they say,” Lia says cheerfully, grabbing Sloane’s hand and pulling her to her feet. “Practice makes perfect. Let’s go.”

Lia drags Sloane down the hallway and into her room. Sloane is neat. Lia is not. Her room is covered in clothes. Sloane blinks at the mess.

“You’ll have to disregard the clothes,” Lia says dismissively, kicking a pile aside. “Pretend they’re not even there.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Sloane replies, her eyes darting from item of clothing to item of clothing. She swallows her tiny squeak.

“I know you’re a neat freak, but just pretend.” Lia plops down on the foot of the bed and waves Sloane over.

Sloane picks her way around piles of clothes and hesitantly perches on the side of the bed, staring at Lia and waiting for her to say something. She doesn’t know how girl talk works. She’s never done it before. She’s never really had anyone to do it with before.

“So what’s going on?” Lia asks.

“I don’t know,” Sloane replies, squirming a little. “You’re the one who said we had to do this.”

Lia shrugs. “Fair point. But I said we had to because you seemed bothered by something.”

“I’m not bothered by anything,” Sloane says.

Lia holds up her index finger. “Lie. Nice try, though.”

Sloane folds her arms over her chest and frowns.

“Okay, yeah, it wasn’t really a nice try,” Lia concedes. “You already know you’re a horrible liar, right?”

“Yes,” Sloane mutters. Practically everyone tells her that.

“Whoa, no need to be broody about that.” Lia makes a face. “We have enough brooding in this house already. So, what’s going on, genius?”

“Nothing,” Sloane insists.

Lia arches her eyebrows and waits.

“Okay, fine,” Sloane bursts out. “It’s you.”

“What about me?” Lia asks, sounding confused.

“It’s… I… I don’t know!” Sloane replies frustratedly. “You can lie so easily, and you’re pretty and confident and independent and I’m⎼⎼”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, back it up, genius,” Lia cuts in, holding her hands up. She stares at Sloane. “Are you… jealous of me?”

“Yes,” Sloane admits, feeling her face heat up. She drops her gaze so she doesn’t have to meet Lia’s. 

“Seriously?” Lia asks.

“Yes,” Sloane repeats, frustration creeping back into her tone. How many times does she have to say it? She already feels ashamed about it, and it’s stupid, and⎼⎼

“Sloane,” Lia says softly. Sloane looks up in surprise. Lia rarely says her actual name. “Why?”

Sloane squirms a little. “Well… you always know what to say. I don’t. I say the wrong thing and get in the way and then people get mad at me.”

Lia laughs. “I hate to break it to you, but people get mad at me, too.”

“Not in the same way,” Sloane argues, fidgeting with her hands.

“Is that it?” Lia asks.

“No.” Sloane doesn’t want to say anything else about it.

Unfortunately, Lia pushes her. “What else?”

“You’re pretty,” Sloane admits. She drops her gaze again. “I’m not.”

Lia leans forward and grabs Sloane’s head in her hands, lifting it so they’re looking at each other. “And who the hell made you think that?”

Sloane shrugs.

“Whoever it was, they were lying,” Lia swears. “You are pretty, Sloane. Trust me.”

“You lie for fun,” Sloane replies, unconvinced.

“I’m not right now.” Lia stares Sloane dead in the eye. “You. Are. Pretty. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sloane mumbles, really wishing Lia would let go of her head so she could look away again. “I’m not confident, though.”

“So, that might be true,” Lia agrees, finally pulling back. “You can acquire that.”

Sloane raises her eyebrows. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“It might,” Lia replies casually. “Who knows, maybe the next time you and Celine get down and dirty, you can surprise her by being⎼⎼”

“Stop!” Sloane squeaks out.

Lia grins. “See? Confidence.”

Sloane groans. “That’s not funny,” she complains.

Lia holds up her hands in mock surrender. “My sincerest apologies. We’ll stop talking about your sex life now.”

Sloane exhales in relief.

“Anything else on your list?” Lia asks conversationally.

“You’re fearless,” Sloane says quietly.

Lia is quiet for a few seconds. “Hate to break it to you, genius,” she finally says, just as quiet as Sloane. “I’m not.”

Sloane blinks at her. “What do you mean?”

“I have PTSD. Nightmares. Just like everyone else in this house,” Lia replies. She holds Sloane’s gaze. “I just hide it well.”

“I can’t hide anything well,” Sloane mumbles.

“Oh, honey, we know.” Lia smirks. “Anything else?”

Sloane shakes her head.

“Fine. Then let’s do the reverse.”

“The reverse?” Sloane asks, her forehead crinkling in confusion.

“You don’t have to lie to survive,” Lia says, closing her eyes. “You never have.”

Sloane is confused. “What are you talking⎼⎼”

“You have a stable relationship,” Lia goes on. “Mine is probably the least stable thing to exist since the tectonic plates separated. It’s bullshit, but neither of us can walk away, and sometimes I wish our dynamic was more like your dynamic with Celine.” Lia opens her eyes and meets Sloane’s gaze.

Sloane is thoroughly confused. Is Lia trying to say that she’s jealous of Sloane? That cannot be right.

Lia lets out a small, dry chuckle. “So, I guess it turns out we’re both pretty fucked up.”

Sloane shifts awkwardly. She doesn’t have anything to say. “Are we done?” she asks hesitantly.

Lia considers that for a second. “Hmm. No. We’re not. What’s your thing with believing you’re not pretty?”

Sloane squirms a little. “No one’s ever really told me I am,” she mumbles. “Besides Celine.”

“Okay, then I’ll tell you,” Lia says confidently. “You are pretty. And if anyone tells you otherwise, please redirect them to me.”

“What are you going to do to them?” Sloane asks curiously.

“Kick them across the ocean. Or to the moon. I haven’t decided.”

Sloane makes a face. “That’s impossible.”

“Not when you’re dealing with the wrath of Lia Zhang.”

A giggle slips out from between Sloane’s lips. “You would really do that?” she asks quietly. “For me?”

“Well, duh,” Lia replies, lightly punching Sloane’s shoulder. “We’re friends. That’s what friends do.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sloane says softly.

Lia shrugs. “It’s a learning experience. For both of us.”

“Both of us?” Sloane asks quizzically.

“I think you count as a friend,” Lia says with a shrug. “You’re the only person in this godforsaken house I physically can’t get mad at.”

Sloane purses her lips. “I don’t know if that counts as friendship.”

“It does to me.” Lia grins mischievously, her eyes sparkling. “Now, we’re going to run through Lia’s Confidence Tips 101⎼⎼so that the next time you get freaky⎼⎼”

“Lia!” Sloane protests.

Lia ignores her. “⎼⎼you can be on top!”

“I don’t think this has anything to do with confidence,” Sloane insists.

“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, you’d surprise the hell out of Celine.”

“Maybe I don’t want to do that.”

Lia rolls her eyes. “What’s life without a little surprise? It’s fun. Trust me.”

“How many confidence tips do you have?” Sloane asks warily.

“Oh, a ton,” Lia replies. “Shall we get started?”

© its-feminineintuition 2026

[its-feminineintuition]

“i’m sure you’ll find somebody stronger,” and i’m sure i’ll always be thinking bout you

now playing: old recliners by role model pairings: aaron shaw x tory howard, mentions to both their relationships with sloane wc: 1.1k warnings: mentions of past rape. and mentioned murder i suppose...?? summary: aaron and tory watching over sloane from the afterlife note: BLAME THE SONG FOR THIS NOT ME ao3 link

Most of the time, Aaron Shaw chooses to watch his half-sister grow up. There’s not much else to do in the afterlife, and he’s found he’s mostly curious about Sloane. Sometimes Tory joins him. They watch her fall in love, attempt suicide, throw herself into cases, grieve. They watch her both struggle and flourish. Sloane does a lot⎼⎼she blows things up in the basement, she visits Aaron and Tory’s graves, she works cases. They see her fall asleep on someone⎼⎼usually her girlfriend, but it can vary⎼⎼enough times that Aaron loses count.

“How do you think you would’ve made things different with her?” Tory asks him one day. They’re watching Sloane and her friends work through a case. Neither of them are very clear on how this whole afterlife thing works, but they’ve figured out that they’re essentially either ghosts in the living world or just hanging out in the afterlife. It’s a strange concept, but it sort of feels like something you’re not supposed to understand. “If you’d known about her sooner?”

Aaron thinks about this a lot, but he’s never landed on one clear answer. “I’m not totally sure,” he replies. “I would have reached out to her, definitely.”

Tory looks at him out of the corner of her eye. “I know your father didn’t want her.”

“Which is why I never knew about her,” Aaron agrees. “But I wanted to get to know her.”

Tory reaches out and grabs his hand. “I know,” is all she says. It’s all she needs to say.

It still stings, the fact that he was never able to really do that. He picks up on some things from watching, some other things from what she tells him when she visits his grave. But he wishes he could actually be there; be there to stop her from overworking herself or going over the edge, be there to meet her girlfriend and warn her not to hurt his sister, be there to build a relationship with her.

“Why do you think she never contacted you… before you…?” Aaron asks.

Tory shrugs. “I don’t know. I think maybe she was scared.”

“Scared?” Aaron repeats. “Of what?”

Tory turns so she’s fully looking at him. “Of allowing herself to grieve.”

“What do you mean?” Aaron asks. He gestures at the occupants of the room. “They did.”

Tory considers that. “Yeah, I guess, but it’s not the same thing. They didn’t know you. Not like she did. Or like I did.”

She has a good point. “Do you wish she did?”

“Sort of,” Tory admits. “I know it was different for her than it was for me. But…” She trails off and shrugs. “It doesn’t matter either way, I guess. Too late now.”

“Maybe it would have helped her,” Aaron says thoughtfully. “Maybe then she wouldn’t have…” Tried to kill herself, his brain fills in. He can’t make himself say it, though.

Tory raises her eyebrows. “Sure. But she generally has a very fucked-up past. I don’t think your death was the thing that pushed her over the edge.”

She’s right. They learned through watching about some of the more horrific events in Sloane’s past, events that Aaron almost wishes he had never learned about. He knows now what her father did⎼⎼what their father did⎼⎼to her, and it’s disgusting. He’s probably never going to be able to look at his father the same again.

“I wish she could have told me about that,” Aaron mutters. “She should have been able to talk to me. After it happened.”

“But do you think she would have told you?” Tory asks.

“Maybe. If she had more experience with me. Trusted me more.” 

“Did she ever meet your other sister?” Tory asks carefully. “The adopted one? Cara?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Aaron admits. “I don’t think our father would have liked them meeting.”

“Mm,” Tory replies. “I don’t think he likes anything to do with Sloane.”

Neither of them say what they’re both thinking: he raped her, though.

Aaron wishes he could understand why his father did that to her⎼⎼to his own kid. Why he felt the need to hit, to abuse, to dominate over her; and why he never did any of that to Aaron.

Not physically, anyway. There was probably a fair share of emotional abuse involved in Aaron’s childhood, although now is not the time to think about that.

The two of them fall silent and simply watch. Sloane is alone in the living room now, flipping through page after page of a thick file. If Aaron squints, her hands are shaking the tiniest bit. After several seconds, she drops the papers and sinks to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself.

It’s moments like this that Aaron hates the most. He hates that he can’t go talk to her, ask her what’s wrong, make her feel better. All he can do is watch as Sloane buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

Eventually, it’s Celine, Sloane’s girlfriend, that comes back into the room (Aaron happens to know her name from Sloane’s updates to him) and does everything Aaron wishes he could do. The upside is that he doesn’t have to be worried about Sloane getting her heart broken by this girl.

“Sucks,” Tory murmurs. “To not be able to do anything.”

Aaron lets out a small, humorless laugh. “Tell me about it.” They never talk about it, but Aaron watched Tory die. He felt like he owed it to her, to be there⎼⎼even if he wasn’t actually there⎼⎼for her final moments. They’d made up in the afterlife, but neither of them have exactly forgotten the angry words they’d exchanged⎼⎼more than once⎼⎼in Vegas.

“She’s going to be okay,” Tory says firmly as they watch Celine wrap her arms around Sloane and Sloane sink into the embrace. 

“Until she gets herself killed,” Aaron mutters. He’s seen her have more close calls with killers than he would like⎼⎼and he’s seen her have close calls without killers. “What then?”

Tory shrugs, like it’s obvious. “Then it’s our turn. We’ll take care of her. If that happens,” she adds, almost as an afterthought. “I mean, it will eventually. But this is especially true if she dies young.”

“If she does,” Aaron says, “I’ll find a way to kill whoever kills her.”

Tory snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that. You’re a ghost.”

“I’ll haunt them.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

“I will. Do you not believe me?”

“Oh, no, I can tell you’re very serious about this haunting business. Follow your heart, Aaron.”

“You’re the worst. A terrible person, really.”

“Mmhmm. Love you, too.”

© its-feminineintuition 2026

[its-feminineintuition]

say it like you mean it (with your fists for once)

now playing: american teenager by ethel cain pairings: dean redding & sloane tavish wc: 1k warnings: referenced past rape summary: dean learns about some of sloane's past experiences with director sterling and her father. note: for @candyriott13

Sloane has been unusually skittish and jumpy for the past few days, and Dean wants to find out why.

He’s tried talking to every other Natural in the house⎼⎼even Michael (who, unhelpfully, said that he had no idea what was going on.) Celine and Lia had both given him something vague along the lines of it being Sloane’s story to tell, and Cassie admitted that she didn’t know but she had her suspicions. The only person Dean has left to go to is Sloane herself.

Unsurprisingly, Dean finds her in the basement. He clears his throat, trying not to startle her.

Sloane spins around instantly. Her eyebrows furrow a little in confusion. “Dean?” she asks. “There’s only a twelve percent chance that you would come find me in the basement.”

Dean shoves his hands in his pockets. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Sloane steps a little closer. “Okay. About what?”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been very skittish lately,” Dean starts. He hesitates briefly. “Any reason why?”

Sloane frowns. “That’s what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Dean hesitates again. “I’m worried,” he says finally. “I want to make sure you’re okay. No one’s… hurting you, right?”

“No!” Sloane exclaims instantly. “No, no one’s hurting me. I’m okay.” She seems to add that last part as more of a reassurance to herself than to Dean.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dean asks carefully.

“I’m okay now,” Sloane replies.

“Now?” Dean repeats.

Sloane immediately seems to realize what she said. Her gaze drops to the floor, and her hands start to worry at each other.

“Was someone hurting you?” Dean asks.

“Sort of?” Sloane hedges. “Not anymore,” she quickly adds.

“Can you tell me about it?” Dean asks gently.

Sloane stares at him for several seconds, and Dean’s just given up thinking that maybe she’ll tell him when she finally blurts out, “My father did it first.”

“Did what?”

“Um…” Sloane hesitates. “He…”

It’s fairly obvious that she can’t put words to what happened. Dean tries to fill in the gaps. “Did he hit you?”

“No,” Sloane replies. “Well, yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Dean briefly debates whether or not it’s worth the legal trouble to kill Grayson Shaw. “What are you talking about?”

Sloane draws in a shaky breath. “He… he raped me,” she finally blurts out.

“He raped you?” Dean repeats incredulously. Out of all the things he’d thought might come out of Sloane’s mouth, that had not been one of them. “When?”

“I was thirteen,” Sloane mumbles. “It was right before I joined the program.”

“God, Sloane. That’s terrible.”

Sloane hesitates briefly. “It gets worse,” she admits.

“Did someone else rape you?” Dean asks gently.

Sloane nods, the motion fast and jerky. 

“Who?” Dean asks, although he has a pretty good guess.

“Director Sterling,” Sloane confesses, proving Dean right. “He used to hit me a lot. But he only raped me once.” Her gaze goes back to the floor.

No wonder Sloane always seemed so uncomfortable around the former director. He must have reminded her so much of her own father. Dean can’t even imagine what it must have been like for Sloane, having to keep the secret of what those men had done to her for so long.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Dean’s tone stays gentle, but inside his anger is burning. He buries it so Sloane doesn’t think he’s mad at her, because he’s not⎼⎼how could he be mad at her, after learning something like this?

Sloane doesn’t look back up at him. “He told me if I told anyone, he would send me back to Vegas,” she mumbles. “I didn’t want to go back there.”

Dean can’t blame her for that.

“Sloane,” he says, drawing her attention and her gaze back to him. Without saying anything else, he opens his arms.

Sloane doesn’t hesitate. She throws herself at him, latching her arms around his neck and clinging to him like a lifeline. Dean hugs her back, listening to her occasional sniffle. Eventually, Sloane pulls back and swipes at her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For listening.” She hesitates for a second. “Are you mad that I didn’t tell you sooner?”

“No,” Dean replies instantly. “I understand why you didn’t say anything. The only people I’m mad at would be your father and Director Sterling.” He pauses. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” he continues quietly. “If anything like that ever happens again… tell me. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Inside, his anger pulses. When he’s angry, it’s one of the few times he feels like his father. He hates it⎼⎼but this time, he can’t not feel angry. It’s almost on Sloane’s behalf, because she doesn’t seem angry about this whole situation at all. She seems more resigned, like she can’t change what happened.

Like she feels like she deserved it.

Dean’s anger only grows. He knows that the director is dead and they should be staying far away from Grayson Shaw, but he still would like to punch both of them for the way they took advantage of and exploited Sloane. It’s so stupid. Why do grown men have a problem of raping teenage girls?

Sloane nods. “Okay,” she whispers.

“Does anyone else know?” Dean asks, although he’s pretty sure of the answer.

Sloane nods again. “Celine does. Lia does. And Agent Sterling.”

It’s sort of a strange trio, but Dean’s not really surprised by any of the names Sloane rattles off. Lia might have guessed⎼⎼Dean has a suspicion some things happened to her in the cult that she doesn’t talk about. Celine’s basically a given; Sloane probably feels comfortable enough around her to admit things. Agent Sterling is more of a surprise, but at the same time not. Her father was one of the men to rape Sloane⎼⎼Celine or Lia probably told Sloane she should tell Agent Sterling. He is a little surprised that Michael, the emotion reader who definitely would’ve picked up on Sloane’s feelings when she was around the director or in Vegas, doesn’t know. Maybe he never pushed Sloane on it, so she just didn’t want to tell him.

“You can always come talk to me,” Dean tells Sloane. “If you need to.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Sloane whispers in reply. She draws in a breath. “You’re like an older brother to me,” she confesses after a second.

Dean pulls her back into a hug. “I’m honored.”

© its-feminineintuition 2026

[its-feminineintuition]

they see right through, can you see right through me?

now playing: the archer by taylor swift pairings: sloane tavish & lia zhang wc: 2.1k warnings: referenced past rape, some creepy comments summary: lia and sloane get lost on a case and have a run-in with the killer. note: god damn i need to lock in on posting my fics here

“Yep, we’re definitely lost,” Lia confirms, turning in a slow circle.

Sloane’s eyes go huge. “We’re lost?”

“I’m not the best navigator, okay?”

In hindsight, Sterling probably shouldn’t have split them up. She thought they would be able to cover more ground that way, which would make it easier to comb through all of the woods and hopefully find the killer’s would-be victims⎼⎼they’d caught the killer yesterday, and he’d admitted that he hadn’t actually had the heart to go through with more than one murder.

It was a good plan. Except Lia and Sloane are now lost.

“What do we do?” Sloane asks nervously. 

Lia exhales and rubs her temples with her fingers. “I don’t know. Give me a minute, genius.”

Sloane gives her exactly one minute. “What do we do?” she repeats, the pitch of her voice increasing.

Lia pivots to face Sloane and grabs her shoulders. “Hey. Listen to me. Calm down. Don’t panic. We need to think rationally; you’re good at that. Do you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Sloane whispers, exhaling shakily. “Yes, I hear you.”

Lia lets go of Sloane’s shoulders. “Great. Now what?”

“That’s what I was asking you.”

“Well, if both of us don’t know, then we’re fucked,” Lia says, letting out a humorless laugh. She sees Sloane’s expression and amends her statement. “Sloane. Jeez. I’m joking. If we don’t show up, the FBI will steamroll the entire woods to find us.”

“Okay,” Sloane mumbles. “Right.” She draws in a slow breath. “If you get lost in the woods, you’re supposed to stay put to increase your chances of being found,” she rattles off.

Lia plops down on the ground. “Guess we better get comfortable, then,” she says.

Sloane opens her mouth⎼⎼presumably to rattle off some other hopefully relevant wilderness survival fact⎼⎼but thunder cracks and Sloane goes white as a ghost.

Well, shit, Lia thinks to herself. Sloane’s scared of thunderstorms; she hates loud noises. This is not an ideal change⎼⎼not to mention that if it starts raining, they’ll both be soaked through and probably freeze. She decides not to mention that to Sloane, who will probably come to her own conclusions anyway.

Lia gestures Sloane over. “Sit down,” she directs. 

“That was thunder,” Sloane says, not moving.

“Correct.”

Sloane winces a little. “I hate thunder,” she mumbles, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I know,” Lia replies. “Sit your butt down next to me.”

Sloane obliges, sitting down next to Lia. She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs. “How long do you think it’s going to take for them to find us?” she whispers.

“I don’t know,” Lia replies flatly. “Aren’t you the genius?”

Sloane frowns at that but doesn’t offer a verbal reply.

A raindrop hits Lia. She glances up at the sky. The clouds are ominously dark, so they’re definitely in for a killer rainstorm.

Terrible joke, Lia scolds herself.

Sloane must have felt a raindrop too, because she slowly glances around and then up at the sky. “Is it… raining?”

“Seems like it,” Lia says.

Sloane shivers. “That’s not good,” she whispers, no doubt coming to the same conclusion about freezing that Lia did two minutes ago.

Lia attempts to cheer her up. “Hey, look on the bright side. If it’s raining, Briggs and Sterling will get looking sooner.”

“Maybe,” Sloane replies doubtfully. She taps her fingers against her legs. 

There’s a slight rustle of movement in the trees, and both girls freeze. Lia gradually relaxes when nothing else comes. “It was probably just an animal,” she says matter-of-factly, projecting confidence she doesn’t feel.

“Probably,” Sloane agrees, sounding even more doubtful than before. Her hands shake, the tiniest bit, and she wraps her arms tighter around her legs.

“Can I ask you something?” Lia asks abruptly.

Sloane frowns. “You just did.”

“Something else,” Lia amends. 

Sloane nods, looking puzzled.

“What’s something you regret?” Lia asks, as easily as she would ask something like What’s your favorite color?

Sloane thinks for a few minutes. “The Gaither case,” she says finally. “With the cult. I should have seen everything faster, then…” Her lower lip trembles, and she bites down hard on it before continuing. “Then maybe Cassie wouldn’t have been taken.”

“You saw things faster than I did,” Lia replies. “Faster than any of us did. I wouldn’t beat yourself up about it.”

Sloane shrugs, looking at the ground. “You asked for something I regret. That’s something.”

They go quiet. Lia eventually breaks the silence. “I regret my mother,” she says simply. No further explanation. Sloane, bless her heart, doesn’t ask her to elaborate. She just nods thoughtfully and scoots a little closer to Lia, close enough that their shoulders are touching.

The trees rustle again, this time behind them. Sloane shivers.

Lia opens her mouth to remind Sloane that it was probably just an animal, and then two things happen at once.

One: The skies open up, and rain pours down on them.

Two: A sharp, blinding pain explodes in Lia’s shoulder.

Lia grunts as a force slams into her and knocks her to the ground. There’s a sticky fluid dripping down her shoulder. Blood. Another pain explodes in her forearm. There’s a man looming over her, and he has a knife.

Who the hell is this guy?

Sloane screams. She’s on her feet. “Lia!”

The man doesn’t pay much attention to her. He backhands her hard enough that Sloane stumbles back several feet. His plan is almost certainly to go after Sloane again when he’s done with Lia. 

No. Lia’s not going to let that happen. Better he stabs Lia than Sloane.

Using all her strength, Lia rolls and springs to her feet, launching herself at the man. He dodges and goes for Sloane, who’s still dazed from the hit. There’s a smear of blood across her face. He presses his arm against her throat, simultaneously pulling her body into his.

“Who are you?” Lia demands.

The man chuckles, pressing a little harder. “Surprised your FBI friends haven’t figured it out. The pathetic guy you caught is⎼⎼was⎼⎼my partner.”

“Your partner?” Lia repeats.

“Yes, my partner. Do you want a gold star?” The man rolls his eyes. “Thanks to me, you won’t find any of our victims in these woods still alive.”

“That’s disturbingly morbid,” Lia tells him, folding her arms over her chest and trying to pretend like she’s not bleeding or or soaking wet or bothered by anything.

The man shrugs. “Perhaps. He didn’t have the guts to go through with everything.” His gaze runs up and down Lia. “The two of you are pretty,” he notes, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “Maybe we’ll have some fun before I kill you.”

Sloane goes very pale and very still at that, rain dripping from the man’s hair onto her. Lia tries to make sense of it. Based on her reaction, Sloane’s probably been raped before⎼⎼at least once. Now is not the time to think about that, though.

Of course, the man notices. “Not a fan of that idea?” he teases in a low voice. His fingers play with the hem of Sloane’s shirt. Sloane tries to squirm away from him.

“Stop,” Lia orders. “Let go of her.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” The man lightly traces the tip of his knife along Sloane’s side, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough that Sloane winces.

“You heard the lady,” Michael’s voice calls. Lia fights the urge to swivel in surprise, because who knows what this creep will do when nobody’s looking. Michael saunters up beside Lia. “Let go of her. Now.”

The man complies, to an extent. He slowly pulls his arm away from Sloane’s throat, then backhands her again to get her out of his way⎼⎼hard enough that Sloane collapses to the ground and doesn’t get up.

“Now,” Michael continues, “put your hands up.”

The man raises his eyebrows at Michael. “Why would I do that?”

Michael gestures to the trees all around them. “Because we’re surrounded by the FBI. Obviously.”

The next few minutes are a blur. An arrest is made. Michael notices Lia’s injuries and directs her to the EMTs that were originally there to treat any survivors they found in the woods. Celine appears at Sloane’s side to check on her. Lia blocks it all out until they’re back at the hotel, her injuries bandaged. 

She takes note of Sloane immediately. The blonde girl is soaking wet⎼⎼just like Lia⎼⎼and passed out on the couch, her head in Celine’s lap. Sloane’s knees are slightly scraped up, and there’s blood smeared across her face, where she was hit, that Celine’s cleaning up. 

Michael breaks their silence first. “What the hell did he do you guys?”

“Nothing that out of the ordinary for a killer,” Lia mutters. “As you can see, I got stabbed twice. He hit Sloane and tried to choke her.” If she looks closely enough at Sloane, she can see the beginnings of bruises on her throat. “Oh, and he threatened to rape us.”

Michael shakes his head. “Sterling shouldn’t have split us up,” he mumbles. He glances at Lia. “You should dry off and change.”

There’s a snippy remark on Lia’s tongue about since when do you care?, but she swallows it down and goes to do as he suggested.

She’s never had that close of a call before. She knows some of the others have, but the closest Lia had ever gotten was her self-harm in Gaither’s local cult. Lia hates to admit it, but what just happened was terrifying. She could see how scared Sloane was, and she wishes she could’ve done something differently to change what happened.

There’s another thing I regret, Lia thinks bitterly.

She rejoins Michael, Sloane, and Celine. Dean and Cassie are with Sterling and Briggs, helping to wrap up the case’s loose ends. Sloane is just stirring when Lia walks into the room. “What happened?” she asks groggily.

“We showed up,” Michael declares proudly.

“What hurts?” Celine asks Sloane.

Sloane slowly lifts her hand and hovers her fingers above her throat, then above her face, where the blood was. “I’m cold,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.

“I know,” Celine replies gently as Sloane pushes herself up into a sitting position. “It’s from the rain.”

“You should dry off and change,” Michael suggests, the same thing he said to Lia.

“Mmhmm,” Sloane murmurs. She peeks at Celine out of the corner of her eye. “Can you come with me?”

“Yep.” Celine scoops Sloane into her arms and sets off down the hallway, leaving just Michael and Lia.

The two of them avoid looking at each other for several seconds.

“Were you scared?” Michael finally asks. “I know Sloane was.”

Lia debates her reply for a long time. “Yes,” she finally admits. True.

Michael doesn’t ask her anything more, and Lia doesn’t offer up any details.

Eventually, Celine comes back. Sloane’s not with her, which Michael notices instantly. “Where’s Sloane?” he asks.

Celine nods towards the direction she came from. “She wanted to be alone.”

“Actually, I need to talk to her,” Lia cuts in, standing up. She can’t forget the look on Sloane’s face before Michael and all the others showed up, when the killer was talking about having some fun. She needs to make sure Sloane’s okay, that that experience didn’t trigger anything too bad for her.

Lia finds Sloane sitting on the floor of one of the rooms, her back to the wall. Her wet hair is pulled back in a braid, and she’s wearing leggings and a too-big sweatshirt. “Hey, genius,” Lia says.

Sloane’s gaze jerks up to meet Lia’s. “Hi.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Lia says, folding her arms over her chest.

“Okay,” Sloane replies slowly. 

Lia cuts straight to the chase. “Have you been raped before?”

Sloane freezes, and for a few seconds she gets a deer-in-headlights look before she drops her gaze to the floor. “Yes,” she admits softly. “Twice.”

“Same person?” Lia asks, equally quiet.

Sloane shakes her head. “Different.”

Lia moves to sit next to Sloane. “It’s bullshit,” she says. “Seriously. Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Sloane replies firmly, shaking her head.

“Does anyone else know?” Lia asks.

Sloane’s fingers are starting to tap together. “Celine does. And Agent Sterling.”

Lia hesitates, searching for the right words. She doesn’t do this comforting thing very often, and it feels weird. “You can talk to me,” she tries. “If you ever need to.”

“Mmhmm,” Sloane replies softly. She hesitates, then adds, “Thank you.”

Lia’s not sure what exactly Sloane is thanking her for, but she rolls with the punches. “Anytime, genius.”

© its-feminineintuition 2026

[its-feminineintuition]

EVEN THOUGH I HATE YA, I WANNA LOVE YA (I WANT YOU)

now playing ... problem by ariana grande. << previous ... 01 ... next >>

pairings: cassie x lia wc: 1k warnings: none summary: cassie hobbes and lia zhang may have a bit of a volleyball rivalry — but who knows what kinds of turns that could take... (this is the heated rivalry au) ao3 link tags: @razpb3rry-shortcak3 (lmk if you wanna be added or removed)

If it were up to Cassie Hobbes, she wouldn’t have picked volleyball as a sport.

It was a nice sport. Sure. If you ignored the men who claimed to be fans and then just oversexualized every player. But she definitely wouldn’t have picked volleyball. She was only doing it because her mom had insisted on it, before she vanished.

Now it was impossible for Cassie to quit.

She took a deep breath and shoved her earbuds in. She only ever wore them for practice, but her carefully curated playlists helped her focus during solo practice in a way nothing else did. It was sort of weird, how that worked.

She typed in her password, going through the motions almost automatically. 5-8-6-3. If you looked at a flip phone keyboard’s buttons, one of the letter combinations you would get from those four numbers was June.

June was the month Cassie’s mom had vanished in.

It was maybe a little weird that Cassie had that month as her phone’s passcode. But it was important for her to remember⎼⎼why she played this sport in the first place, what she wanted to find with her publicity, why she was even here on Earth at all.

She hit play on one of her playlists, set her phone down on the edge of the court, and went for a volleyball.

Solo practice was almost easier for Cassie than practicing with the team. When she wasn’t around the team, she didn’t have to play perfectly every single second or ignore the pitying looks she could get from the other girls. The oh, poor Cassie, her mom is MIA and her dad is absent looks were almost worse than the fact that Cassie’s mom was gone and her dad was essentially a deadbeat.

Cassie rotated the volleyball in her hands. It had been five years since her mother vanished, blood all over her dressing room. Maybe it was stupid to believe that Lorelai Hobbes was still out there, but it didn’t really matter. Cassie was close to giving up hope on that front.

But…

Five years was a long time to go without finding anything. If the authorities hadn’t found a body, that had to mean Cassie’s mom was still out there. Somewhere.

That hope didn’t stop people from giving her pitying looks, though.

Cassie tossed the volleyball in the air and hit it across the court as hard as she could. It skimmed over the top of the net and slammed into the floor.

She smiled. It looked like it was going to be a good solo practice.

“Sounds boring,” Lia Zhang announced, flopping down on the couch and kicking her legs up in the air.

Her publicist looked up from her phone and frowned. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I could tell you were gearing up to.”

As far as publicists went, Sloane Tavish wasn’t a bad one. She was pretty, occasionally underestimated for her hair color (blonde), absolutely dangerous with anything technology-related, and had an eidetic memory⎼⎼which frequently did not do Lia any favors.

Sloane sighed and cut to the chase. “There’s another rumor going around about you,” she explained, tapping her phone screen with her pointer finger. “This is the fifth one this month. Statistically speaking, you are eighty-four percent more likely to have rumors spread about you than anyone else involved in the sport.”

Lia smirked. “Yeah, and that’s why you’re my publicist.” Honestly, she was a little curious about what this new rumor was. Sloane wasn’t wrong that this would be the fifth one this month, but what she didn’t know was that Lia had started two of the previous four rumors herself, just to stir things up.

Although, it technically was a possibility that Lia’s publicist knew that already. Sloane Tavish seemed to know everything.

“What’s it about?” Lia asked curiously.

That caught Sloane slightly off guard. “You haven’t already seen it?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Lia smirked again. She liked surprising Sloane when she could. “So what’s it about, genius?”

Sloane’s brows furrowed slightly at the nickname. Lia meant it in sort of a sarcastic but friendly way, but it was obvious that Sloane didn’t know if it was meant to be friendly or mean. She showed her phone to Lia. “It’s about last night.”

“What was last night?” Lia asked.

Sloane’s brows furrowed deeper. “You came back very drunk.”

“Oh, that,” Lia replied, despite the fact that she did not remember any of that happening.

Sloane pulled her phone away and went back to tapping at the screen. “There are rumors that you…”

“Had sex?” Lia suggested. “Got down and dirty with a boy?”

Sloane frowned. “That wasn’t how I would have said it.”

“So yes,” Lia inferred.

Sloane looked up at her. “Did you?”

“Absolutely not.” The public didn’t know it⎼⎼and hopefully never would⎼⎼but Lia had only had sex with a man twice.

And she’d hated it.

Which was strange⎼⎼given that Lia was very prone to sexual jokes and innuendos. She was supposed to love sex, right? Sleep with a man every other day?

“Let me guess,” Lia said. “You want me to make a non-drunk appearance.”

“No,” Sloane replied. “We don’t have enough time for that. You need to win the game.”

Win the game. Lia could do that.

“We’re playing against that team?” Cassie muttered to herself, almost desperately. “That team? Seriously?”

It wasn’t like Cassie had an official rivalry with Lia Zhang. That was just how the public seemed to frame it⎼⎼as they always started against each other, one of them in the back with the ball and the other prepared to receive the serve. That was just how their coaches put them in.

However, that did not stop the media from framing it into something official⎼⎼something made out of the way the two girls clearly hated each other while being their team’s best players. Something made out of the way Cassie’s eyes narrowed and Lia’s mouth twisted into a smirk when they saw each other on the court. Something made out of the way they were obsessed with beating each other.

Colorado’s Cassie Hobbes and Quantico’s Lia Zhang.

This was shaping up to be quite the game.

© its-feminineintuition 2026

[its-feminineintuition]

can I send requests...?

why yes.....

[its-feminineintuition]

this applies to everyone btw

[its-feminineintuition]

can I send requests...?

why yes.....

[its-feminineintuition]

would anyone like dead end chapter by chapter on tumblr 🤔🤔🤔

yes

no

yes no maybe so

my button

Voting ended onMay 4

share with ur friends ok

dead end is a naturals/inheritance games crossover yes...... it also features tgg characters....

[its-feminineintuition]

01 — do i wanna know?

now playing ... AM by arctic monkeys. << previous ... 01 ... next >>

crawlin back to you (ever thought of callin when you’ve had a few?)

pairings: rohan x savannah wc: 1.3k warnings: none summary: rohan's drunk call to savannah leaves her questioning her real feelings for him. ao3 link

Savannah’s phone rang at the exact second the ball went out of her hands. She watched the shot sink into the net, then turned her attention to her phone, which was where she’d left it by the door.

The clicking of her flats against the smooth floor echoed as Savannah picked up her phone and read the screen. Unknown caller. It was probably spam, so she declined the call. She’d barely set her phone down when it chimed again⎼⎼but this time with a text message instead of a call.

Unknown: Pick up

Savannah swiped at her screen, making the notification disappear. Whatever scammer was trying to contact her, they were certainly dedicated. However, it was instantly replaced with a second message⎼⎼one that made her freeze.

Unknown: I know this is you, Savvy.

There was only one person who had ever dared to continuously call her Savvy.

Don’t respond. Do. Not. Respond.

Savannah didn’t know how Rohan might have gotten her number⎼⎼it could have been a number of ways, really. Most likely, it had been Gigi or Lyra who’d given it to him. Gigi was obsessed with bringing up Savannah’s relations with Rohan, and Lyra wasn’t above playing matchmaker.

The phone rang again.

Savannah answered.

Almost instantly, she cursed herself. Why had she answered? That had certainly been a stupid, reckless, impulsive mistake, and she should absolutely hang up now.

But she didn’t.

“Hello?”

“Savvy.”

Savannah cursed herself again.

Hang up. Hang up. Hang. Up. The. Goddamn. Phone.

Why can’t I make myself hang up?

“How did you get this number?” Savannah asked, gritting her teeth. 

There was a slow chuckle on the other end of the line. “I have my ways.”

Savannah was determined to find out. “Was it my sister? Or Lyra?”

“You’d have to ask them to find out. I’m calling so we can talk.”

“Are you drunk?” Savannah asked promptly.

“Drinking,” Rohan corrected. “Present tense, Savvy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Savannah swallowed and straightened her posture, even though there was no way anyone was watching her⎼⎼least of all Rohan. “I hate that name.”

“And that,” Rohan replied, “is precisely why I use it.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Why would you want to do such a thing?”

Because we’re done. We’re over. I don’t know why you’re still reaching out.

“Because,” Savannah replied firmly, “I have no interest in you.”

“Introspection is a powerful thing,” Rohan commented lazily.

Savannah tightened her grip on the phone. “What?”

“Try it sometime, love,” Rohan replied. “I think you’ll find you’re lying to yourself.”

“What?” Savannah demanded.

“You know what I mean.”

Cursing herself again for picking up the phone in the first place, Savannah pulled the phone away from her ear and jammed her finger against the End Call button. She shouldn’t have ever picked up. Rohan was drunk, and saying stupid things.

They were done. Savannah was over it.

Obviously.

The phone rang.

Savannah glared at her screen and declined the call. It rang again. She declined again. The next thing to come through was a text⎼⎼clearly, Rohan had decided to give up on calling.

Unknown: Think about it Savvy

Unknown: I believe we both know I am correct.

Shocking. Even over text, he was irritating and pretentious.

Savannah swiped at the notifications, making them disappear from her screen. But she couldn’t help but think⎼⎼what if he was correct? What if Savannah wasn’t over it?

No, that was a stupid idea. She was over whatever had happened on Hawthorne Island. It had been a reckless mistake, something neither of them should have done.

The phone rang again.

“You don’t know when to quit,” Savannah grumbled at her phone. She declined the call.

Savannah did not like Rohan. He was a pain in the ass, obviously. Why would she ever fall for someone like that?

Her phone rang again. And Savannah, fool that she was, answered it.

“Hello?”

“Savvy,” Rohan’s voice said, mimicking the way he’d replied to her earlier. “I thought you might want to keep talking.”

“I don’t want to keep talking,” Savannah replied, her voice tight. “I want you to stop calling.”

“Do you, love?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Next you’ll forbid me from calling you Savannah.”

“Maybe I should,” Savannah snapped. “Maybe then you’d know when to quit.”

“When to quit?” Rohan repeated. “Savvy, you’re the one trying to call it quits.”

“You’re drunk,” Savannah said firmly. “I’m not having this conversation with you now.”

“If not now, when?”

It was such an infuriatingly Rohan response that Savannah seriously considered ending the call and throwing her phone across the room. “When you’re sober.”

“Why not while I’m intoxicated?” Rohan asked lazily. “In fact, you could join me. Find a drink and⎼⎼”

“No,” Savannah replied exasperatedly. 

“Have it your way, then.”

“If I had it my way, you wouldn’t have called me.” Savannah paused. “At all.”

“You wound me, Savvy.”

Savannah felt her heart speed up a little with their banter. Oh God⎼⎼did she actually like it?

If so, she was screwed. She hated him. She needed to hate him. She was the one that set the boundaries, the one who got to decide they were done.

Stop finding him attractive, you idiot.

“I notice you’ve gone quiet,” Rohan noted. “Stunned by me?”

“No,” Savannah replied. Her voice was practically a growl. “I’m hanging up. Stop calling me.”

“You’re not going to hang up.” Rohan phrased his statement as if it was an obvious fact they both knew, like he was telling her a simple math equation.

“I am.” But no matter how many times Savannah said it to herself in her head, she couldn’t make herself pull the phone away from her ear and hit the End Call button like she’d done before.

God, what’s wrong with me?

“Note the lack of hanging up,” Rohan replied, and there was an infuriating amount of glee in his voice.

“Drop it,” Savannah snapped.

“Let’s face it, Savvy,” Rohan started, ignoring Savannah’s sigh at the nickname. “We clearly have something.”

“Had,” Savannah corrected. “You’re drunk and trying to rekindle old history.”

“We both already know I am drunk, and yet you keep coming back to it.” Rohan paused. “You really consider us old history?”

“It was in the past,” Savannah replied firmly. “It’s over, Rohan.” She forced herself to use his actual name, not the nickname she’d used for him before. She’d almost called him that, almost let British slip out of her mouth. 

That would not have proved her point.

There was a long pause before Rohan replied. “Perhaps it doesn’t have to be.”

“What a strange thing to say,” Savannah replied evenly.

“Come on, Savvy.” Pause. “You know you want what we had back as well.”

God. Maybe she did.

No. No. No, she hated him. She couldn’t be attracted to him; that was just ridiculous. “I assure you, I do not.”

“Would you object to us meeting up?” Rohan continued, as if she hadn’t spoken.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

Savannah stiffened. Words failed her.

“How does Tuesday sound?” Rohan asked.

“I’m busy,” Savannah forced out, doing her absolute best to stay calm⎼⎼or at least sound calm.

“Fine, then. Wednesday?”

“I’m busy.”

“You are going to say that about every day, are you not?”

Savannah lifted her chin. “You’ll never know if it’s true.”

“I’ll find you, then,” Rohan replied. Savannah could practically hear him smirking. “Looking forward to it, Savvy.”

The phone clicked. He’d hung up.

Savannah pulled her phone away from her ear and stared at it in disbelief. 

There was just no way. She did not still have any feelings for Rohan. But the longer she stood there, at the edge of the basketball court squeezing her phone in her hand, the more she started to doubt that.

There was something still there between them. And when Rohan found her⎼⎼whenever that was⎼⎼it was sure to be a disaster.

© its-feminineintuition 2026