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bookishdream · 8 months

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Secrets of the Past

Dean Winchester x Reader, Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: You had left Mystic Falls and Elijah a long time ago, settling into your new Hunter lifestyle with Sam and Dean; keeping your past to yourself. When you find yourself in danger, would Elijah still care to help?

Word Count: 2.3k

“Wake up sleepy head, you’re worse than Dean” Sam said, tapping your shoulders as you groaned against the pillow.

“Go away” you mumbled before rolling over, facing away from him. It didn’t take long at all for the boys to see how much you weren’t a morning person.

The door to the motel room swung open as Dean walked in, holding a tray of coffees for the three of you. He looked over at Sam as he noticed you still in bed, rolling his eyes.

Dean brought one of the coffees up to his lips, taking a sip before letting out a loud and satisfied sigh. You rolled out quickly, perking up at the sound of him. He let out a chuckle as you sprung from the bed, rushing over to grab a coffee.

“Works every time” he said, looking over at Sam with a grin. Sam shook his head slightly before grabbing a drink for himself and sitting down at the table.

He had a newspaper laid out in front of him, scanning the pages as he looked for a new job. You’d already finished one a few days ago. You’d realised quickly these boys liked to stay on the move, giving you no time for a vacation.

You sat back down on the edge of the bed, enjoying your drink in silence as you attempted to wake up.

“I think I found something” Sam announced, calling Dean over to look at the paper.

“Hmm” Dean mumbled, leaning over Sam as he read it over. “Vamps. Definitely” he nodded as they looked at each other in agreement.

“Looks like we’re headin’ to Mississippi” he announced, looking over at you with the usual charming smile.

“Yay” you said flatly, still struggling to wake up. “Lucky us”

Sam and Dean began packing their things and loading the car as you got yourself ready; finishing off your drink.

Once everything was ready, you made your way to the car and climbed in the back.

The usual rock and roll music filled the car as you drove off, heading to the next destination. Your eyes gazed out the window, watching the trees as you drove down a long road. The gloomy weather felt comforting; you had never been much of a hot weather person. Watching the rain drops roll down the window brought you a sense of calm. You didn’t notice Dean glancing in the rear view mirror, looking over at you on the odd occasion.

After hours of driving in silence, you all pulled into a diner. Dean could only go so long without grabbing a bite which you greatly appreciated, noticing the growl in your stomach.

You were quick to get out of the car after you parked, walking almost as fast as Dean as he entered.

“I’ll get us some burgers” he said before you and Sam spotted a table to sit down at.

He pulled out the chair for you before you sat down; he always was a gentlemen. You gave him a small smile as you sat next to him.

“You doin’ okay?” Sam asked, feeling worried by how tired you had been lately.

“Yea.. yea I’m fine” you replied softly, giving him a small smile. “I’m rejuvenating” you added with a grin.

He smiled back at you in return. From the day he met you, he had always kept an eye out of you; feeling moderately protective to say the least. The both of them were.

Dean walked over with the burgers in hand, placing them down in front of you. He knew what you ordered for any restaurant now, knowing you like the back of his hand at this point.

He ate much faster than you and Sam, scoffing down the meal as though each one was his last. You smiled to yourself as you watched him, feeling quite relaxed in his presence.

“What are you looking at?” He mumbled, still chewing his food. You let out a slight chuckle at put your hands up in defence “nothing, nothing. Please, carry on” you replied with a smirk.

The three of you enjoyed your food, taking in a moment to relax before heading back out on the road. You always enjoyed the little moments you had with them, the time to breathe before you were back on the road again.

The sun was setting by the time you reached the border. You were already feeling sleepy as the area around you became dark.

Sam lead Dean to a hotel nearest to the hunt, allowing time to gather everything needed before looking into it further.

When you arrived at the motel, Sam organised the rooms. He couldn’t always get the three of you together, leaving you separated. They took turns on which one stayed with you, not willing to leave you on your own despite your protests. You’d lost count of how many times you told them you didn’t need a bodyguard.

This time it was Deans turn to stay with you whilst Sam slept in the room next door.

You carried in your things for the night before sitting on the bed furthest from the door.

“You’re coming with me tomorrow” Dean said. “We’re going to the morgue to check the victim while Sammy follows up with the detectives” he added before handing you a loaded gun.

“Don’t lose this” he said, raising his eyebrows at you.

“You say that every time.. when have I lost one of your *many* weapons?” You asked rhetorically, rolling your eyes at him.

“Can’t be too careful” he responded with a shrug, giving you a pat on the shoulder before he moved over and sat on the bed.

You quickly grabbed the remote, stopping him from getting his hands on it. “Hey!” He said, holding out his hand.

“Not a chance… I can’t watch anymore Dr Sexy M.D. with you” you replied, lying back against the pillow as you flicked through the channels.

“That was one time” he mumbled, giving up and letting you keep it.

“Oh please, I’ve caught you watching that crap on at least three occasions” you grinned before settling on some late night show.

He let out a huff as the two of you watched the tv, sitting quietly. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through your contacts until you saw Elijah’s name.

You let out a slow breath. Every time you hunted vampires you thought of him, not wanting to admit to yourself that you missed him. You hated how you left Mystic Falls without even saying goodbye, wanting to escape all the chaos that was going on back there.

The connection you felt to Elijah was instant; you understood each other. Although you were one of the people Elena ensured would be protected, you knew Elijah was doing so on his own accord.

You shook your head, trying to push away your memories and focus on the TV. As you drifted off to sleep hours later… he was still on your mind.

“Go on, it’s your turn” Dean smirked as the two of you stared down at the body laying on the steel table.

You gulped as you reached over, pulling up the shirt of the victim. There were marks all over the victim; their skin turning purple from the bruises. They clearly put up quite the fight. As you looked up towards the chest, clear bite marks could be seen by the collarbone.

“Bingo.” Dean said from over your shoulder.

“Only one victim so far?” You questioned.

“That we know of” he answered before you both got ready to leave.

“Maybe it’s not a nest then..” you said quietly, pondering.

“These guys don’t travel alone” he responded, clearly experienced when it comes to vampires.

You made your way to the car, deciding you would go meet up with Sam to see what he had found.

The three of you were back at the motel, debating on your next move. Sam had a bunch on where the vamps nest might be. All the was left was to decide on your approach.

They were quite thorough when it came to their plans; plotting out every possible way something could go wrong. They knew you could handle yourself which made it a lot easier. The bigger the group of hunters, the easier this was going to be.

You never truly classified yourself as a hunter. You couldn’t. Not after knowing “monsters” in your past. You always kept this to yourself. There was no need to open a can of worms; they didn’t need to know.

After a long debate on how you were going to go into the nest, Sam and Dean were finally ready.

You packed your things before going out to the car. The nest should only be a short drive if Sam was right. Every time you went into one of these, you felt a rise of nerves in your chest. Not feeling scared for your safety, but scared you might see him again. Elijah.

You sucked in a breath as you got into the car, your hand gripping the blade Dean had given you.

You tried your best to clear your mind as you drove, glancing out of the window and hoping this would be a quick one.

Raindrops landed on your skin as you approached the abandoned building. Graffiti covered the concrete walls. No person had been living here in a long time, that you were sure of.

Sam and Dean walked in first, keeping quiet as they looked around. You decided it was best to split up, Sam going one way whilst you and Dean went another.

You stayed close to Dean as you moved through the hall, continuing to look around in preparation for an attack.

Despite your best efforts to stay on guard, you would never be quick enough. You barely noticed the figure coming at you until Dean got knocked over against the wall; slamming into it hard enough that the blade dropped from his hand.

You felt yourself duck as the figure continued to move, only being seen as a blur in your vision. You swung your blade quickly, jamming it into the vampire.

The woman flared her fangs at you before pulling the blade from her arm and tossing it to the ground. She gripped your wrist, digging her nails into your skin until blood was drawn.

Dean came up quickly behind her, swinging the blade up high and slicing it through her neck. Her expression dropped as she fell to the crowd, her skin becoming pale.

“Thanks..” you huffed as you looked over at Dean. He gave you a smirk before gesturing you to follow him. He knew she wasn’t the only one.

You trailed behind him as he walked, your eyes scanning over him; taking in his broad shoulders. The gap between allowed for enough space for you to see a vampire approaching from the side.

Without giving Dean a chance to respond, you lept forward, swinging your blade at them; slicing through its neck. The vampire dropped to the ground quickly, not having a chance to cause any harm to either of you.

Dean turned around, looking down at the vamp and then back at you. He gave you a nod of approval before carrying on, causing you to grin to yourself.

You were too busy taking in your own win that you didn’t hear the noise approaching you from behind. Arms wrapped tightly around you as teeth sank into your neck.

You let out a scream, grabbing Deans attention before he ran over.

The vampire was too quick, pulling you away and out of his sight. Dean could only follow the screams for so long until you went quiet, lost in the darkness of the building. The vampire had taken you.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, standing across from Sam outside the building.

“Which way did they go?” Sam asked urgently as his breath quickened.

“I don’t know! It’s so damn dark in there I couldn’t see a thing” he answered, bringing his hand up to his forehead.

Sam let out a deep breath, trying to think clearly. He glanced around him, taking in his surroundings.

“I found Y/N’s phone” Dean said, pulling it from his jacket pocket. “No point tracking the damn thing now” he finished, clenching his jaw.

Dean stormed over to the car as Sam followed, slamming the door after the sat down. Dean kept his eyes forward, keeping his eye on the road as he took off; not being able to think clearly.

Sam opened up your phone, scrolling through it; not entirely sure what he was looking for.

“Hey.. check this out” He said, showing Dean the phone.

Dean leaned over, reading on of the contacts and the details below it. “Contact in case of emergency..?” Dean read out loud, raising his eyebrow.

Sam pursed his lips before clicking on it, calling the number. He placed it on speak for the both to hear.

After only a few rings, a voice picked up. “Y/N..?” Elijah answered softly.

“Uh no, this is Sam. Your name was down as an emergency contact” Sam said hesitantly.

“What happened?” Elijah asked, a growing concern showing in his tone.

“Are you a hunter?” Dean asked, clearly not trusting him.

Elijah hesitated on the phone, allowing silence to hang in the air. “Yes, of course” he replied, deciding to follow along with the conversation.

Sam decided to tell Elijah where they were heading and the road they were on, choosing not to divulge what had happened to you as of yet.

Within minutes, a figure appeared in the road; causing Dean to slam on the breaks. “What the-…” he muttered, staring at the man dressed in a suit; standing in front of the vehicle.

The boys got out slowly, Dean gripping his gun as he held it behind him.

“Where is she?” Elijah questioned, staring the two men down. He strolled forward towards Dean, looking over his face. “I won’t ask twice.”

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bookishdream · 8 months

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The Hunter and the Witch ~ Dean Winchester x fem! reader

Description: y/n l/n (aka reader) has known the Winchesters ever since they helped her family start anew, away from a town that hated them for being witches. Or more specifically for y/n being a witch and accidentally causing mayhem. So when Dean comes knocking at her door asking for help she obviously complies, even if it means being stuck on the road with the man she’s secretly in love with.

Or it’s basically just y/n following the adventures of Supernatural

warnings: cannon violence, most likely poor representation of witch craft, everything written is fiction and should not be taken seriously

Prologue

Season 1

Chapter 1: The Woman in White

Chapter 1~ Continuation

Chapter 2: Wendigo

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bookishdream · 8 months

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closer than friends

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

WARNINGS: season 1/2 era, friends to lovers, sweet love confession, Dean being Sam’s wingman

A/N: my first supernatural fic is finally here!!! It’s been a long while since I’ve had the motivation to write, and I’m so glad I was able to get this out and share it. Please reblog if you enjoy!! <;33

"How many times are you gonna shift in your goddamn seat, woman, jesus christ." Dean glances over at you from the wheel for the fourth time, watching you rub your eyes and knock your shoulder into the side of the Impala's door again.

"It's not my fault the passenger seat isn't made for comfortable napping, Dean."

You hear Sam chuckle from over your shoulder; this makes you look back to find him comfortably nestled into the corner of the backseat with his sweatshirt tucked in the crook of his neck so he can lean against his door without discomfort.

You huff, "I don't want a word from you."

"Says the girl who called shotgun and fought for the front seat all morning."

"What did I just say?"

Dean rolls his eyes, "Okay, knock it off. We're finding a place to sleep tonight."

While Dean focuses back onto driving, you try your hardest to find a suitable position that would allow you to sleep for awhile up until you guys made it to whatever hotel you were staying in for the night. You'd like to blame the Impala for your sleep deprivation, but you've slept in it before just fine, so you know the car isn't the problem. Even though you're going on just over 36 hours of no sleep, your mind won't shut off. The events of the case you were working on for the past couple of days play like a movie in your head, reminding you of how it ended over and over again.

You swallow quite harshly, and shift in your seat again. Something soft smacks the back of your head and you whip around to see what Sam's hit you with, but it's just his sweatshirt, and he's already leaning against the side of the car like he was before, almost as if he hadn't moved at all.

You mumble out a quiet "thank you," and you don't bother to even listen for any sort of reply before you're stuffing his sweatshirt underneath your head and forcing yourself to go to sleep. It's not long before you hear Sam's soft breathing from the backseat signifying that the boy has finally fallen asleep himself. You almost gave up until you saw Dean turn down his music just a little, side-eyeing you as he looked between you and the road.

"Is that better?" He asks.

"It was fine before."

"I'll keep it like this anyway."

You hum in response, and he goes back to humming his own tune to follow along with the music. With Sam's soft breathing in the back and Dean's low humming, you finally find something else other than your mind to focus on, which ultimately leads to your eyes lulling shut and you drifting off to sleep.

When your eyes start to peel back open again, the car is stopped and there's light rain patter on the wind shield. You lift your head causing Sam's sweatshirt to lightly fall into your lap, and at the same time the door opens revealing a slightly wet Sam waiting for you.

"C'mon, we're here."

"Slow your roll, Sammy, I just woke up." Your head lolls back onto the seat, and you let your eyes close once again, forgetting about Sam who's standing in the rain waiting for you to get out.

"Alright, let's go."

You shiver and grumble a slight protest as you feel his cold hands slip underneath your body to grab you and pick you out of the Impala. He knocks the door shut as he cradles you close to his chest as to not drop you, and as he locks the car. Your ear stays smushed against his front as he carries you, allowing you to feel the soft pitter patter of his heart beating in his chest.

"What time is it?" You mumble sleepily.

"Close to ten."

"That's it?"

"Yeah." You nod, not replying this time so you can nod back off in his arms. You're back to being fast asleep once again by the time Sam reaches the room Dean picked out for you, and he tries tucking you into your bed as gently as possible so he doesn't accidentally wake you up. In the short process you only mutter something unintelligible to Sam's ears as he finishes pulling the blankets up, so he ignores it and kisses you on the forehead, bidding you a good night before he retreats back to the room he's sharing with Dean for the night.

It's much later when you're rudely roused from sleep by a nightmare; you sit up straight in the bed with your hands by your sides clawing at the sheets, your eyes wide and unfocused, much too scared to figure out where you are or how you've gotten there. It takes a second to realize you're in a motel room, and now, the sheets that were once neatly laid over your body are haphazardly thrown towards the end of the bed, practically hanging off and hitting the floor. You take a shaky deep breath in and out, taking your trembling hand and placing it over your heart in an attempt to regulate it.

After a couple minutes your breathing is sort of back to normal, but your shakiness hasn't stopped. At that point, you're aware you won't be falling asleep again anytime soon, so you sit up further and throw your legs off the bed to go and find something to busy yourself with. In the corner there's a chair that you notice has your bag on top of it, and there's a small table next to it with a notepad. Your curiosity pulls you towards it, and when your feet reach the table, you're able to make out Sam's sloppy handwriting.

If you need us. - S

Next to the writing is a key card, which you can obviously assume is the one to their room. You pick it up and turn it over a few times, debating on whether this dream was something worth needing them for. In your head, needing was the same thing as bothering and it was never used as a positive term. But you know that if you spend another minute in that bed you might actually start crying and drive yourself crazy over the dream, so you take your chances and hope one of the boys will let you sleep in their bed or at least talk to you for awhile and get your mind off of it.

When you open the door and step outside, you become acutely aware of the cold air on your arms and legs rather quickly, and you begin to wish you were wearing a sweatshirt instead of one of Sam's shirts and a pair of shorts. The chill encapsulates you, making you hasten your step towards the room down the hall with the number specified on the key card. Once you make it to the room, you're pushing yourself up on your tip toes because, despite your sock covered feet, the ground is still horridly cold and you're hoping to get off it as soon as possible. Although, you find yourself unable to let yourself in once you find yourself standing in front of the door. You give it a good five minutes before you work up the nerve to finally pat the key card on the handle to allow yourself in the room. Once you've pushed open the door a crack, you're able to perceive a bed-side lamp turned on, and Sam leaning against his headboard next to it.

His head snaps up from his book at the sound of the door being pushed open, but he relaxes when he realizes it's you.

"Hey," he says softly. He's in the brown sweatshirt you were passing back and forth earlier, and he's weirdly still in a pair of jeans, but at this point you're used to seeing Sam and Dean wearing their jeans to bed.

"Hi," you respond back, even softer.

Sam likes to think he's pretty good at perceiving your body language, especially after knowing you for so long; so when he notices your trembling hands, your flushed cheeks, and your frantic eyes, he knows that you've had a nightmare.

He's not gonna ask why you're there since he knows why, so he only pats the side of the bed next to him and asks, "You wanna' join me?"

You're quick to nod your head and cross the room to join him, and it's only then when you're on the bed that you notice Dean isn't in the other one.

"Where's Dean?"

"Oh, he left to drive around. He's probably at a bar, or sleeping in the car somewhere." He says casually.

You hum, "Couldn't sleep?"

"Neither of us really could. He asked if I wanted to come with, but I didn't really feel like leavin'." Sam left out the fact he didn't want to leave you here alone, since he doesn't like leaving you anywhere by yourself. Dean doesn't either, but he doesn't get fussy over it like Sam sometimes does when you fight them on it.

"I can't either," you say quietly.

With some of your hair dangling in your face and your flushed cheeks, you look sort of delicate in Sam's eyes. You look sad, but when you look at him you have a gentle smile covering your lips, and when you look away your mouth curves downward again, only slightly, to where you might think he won't notice, but he does.

Sam's always stayed observant of you, even when you think you're the one who takes all the mental notes of him.

He reaches out, lifting the hand closest to you and letting his palm rest gently on top of your shoulder.

"You okay?" He almost looks like a puppy when he asks, and it's pitiful. For you mostly because he's cute, but why should he look like that when you feel like you're gonna start crying any minute.

You don't even want to answer because if your mouth opens you're either gonna say you're fine, or words describing the terrors you experienced in your sleep are going to come pouring out of your mouth and you won't be able to stop until you're a sobbing, pitiful mess and you could not handle being that way in front of Sam.

You couldn't.

But looking at him looking at you so fondly, it's like he's trying to tell you he'll comfort you the only way he knows how and he's gonna fix all your problems with a touch or two alone. Like the way he wants to hold you will melt all your fears into nothing and the way he wants to kiss you will make you forget any of it even happened. His eyes speak more than words could express in this moment and you don't even care if you seem desperate, or needy, or anything really. You allow yourself to fall forward into his awaiting arms, and when your head meets his chest, you can't help the first sob that escapes your lips.

You sound so tired, and the way that you're crying so harshly makes him feel like you're tearing yourself apart inside, like each breath is ripping off another piece of your heart.

"Honey..." he breathes out gently, wrapping his one arm around your neck and his other only comes up about half way so he can hold your head close to him under his chin. You've fallen completely into his side, your head against his chest and one leg practically in his lap, but he doesn't seem mind. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

You consider it for a moment; you probably would feel better opening up to him about the case you just worked, considering he was also there and knows how hard it was, but you also know opening up to Sam makes you feel close to him. Intimate almost. You’ve never been one to share your thoughts or feelings generously, and you think that must have just came with the messed up childhood, since Sam and Dean are pretty much the same way. But as the years went on, the boys got much better at opening up to you than you did them. Although, if there was anyone that could get you to talk, it was Sam.

Today, you decided, would not be one of those days.

You shake your head, "I'm okay, I'm okay. I'll be fine." You know by his soft sigh that he doesn't believe you, but luckily he doesn't push it. "Can we just stay like this for a little while?" You whisper shyly, despite knowing he wouldn't say no to you.

"Yeah," he strokes your hair softly, "Yeah, of course."

You lay comfortably against him as he slowly but surely calms you down, holding your head and rubbing your arm gently as you let out sad little sniffles. Once you've relaxed, you murmur something into his chest that he thinks might have been a thank you, but before he can ask you've already fallen asleep.

About an hour later after the two of you have fallen asleep, Dean unlocks the door and enters the room slightly shitfaced but more so tired. He freshens up in the bathroom so he doesn't wake up feeling even worse in a couple of hours, and he doesn't even notice you're there until he's trudging out of it, eyes wide and feet frozen to the floor as he takes in the image of you and Sam cuddled up to each other in Sam's bed. He manages to put his fist against his mouth just in time to cover up a surprised laugh, taking in the sight of his little brother in the same bed as their best friend.

"This is gold." Dean smiles mischievously, pulling his phone out of his pocket to capture the moment. "Just friends my ass." He mutters.

...

"Dean, if I have to hear you say that girl's name again one more time, I'm going to chop your head off. I don't care how good she was at su-"

"Alright, alright, let's quiet down shall' we?" Sam pats your shoulder and looks around the cafe to see if anyone heard you bickering with Dean about last night's one night stand. Dean laughs loudly as he lets himself into the corner booth that the three of you chose while you were walking in.

"What, you nervous someone's gonna hear us, Sammy?"

"It's 8 in the morning, Dean. Let's be a little respectful."

You hide your giggle, "Yeah, Dean."

Dean rolls his eyes, glancing at Sam as he ever so casually throws his arm over the back of the seat behind you, looking at the side of your face to see if you've taken notice. You're picking your nail, completely oblivious. He almost rolls his eyes again.

"Well," Dean straightens up, "Let's see what we have on the menu today."

"Don't act like you're not going to get the same exact thing you get every day," you comment, not even looking up from your nail.

"What's with the attitude, sweetheart? Didn't sleep well?" Sam's smile quickly turns to an annoyed frown as he makes eye contact with Dean, silently sending him daggers to keep his mouth shut.

You squint your eyes at him and open your mouth to come back with a retort, but the waitress walks up before you get the chance to say anything.

"Are y'all ready yet, or would you like a few minutes?" She asks kindly.

"Can we have a couple more minutes?" You say, since the three of you haven't even taken a look at the menu yet. She nods and retreats, leaving you alone with the boys once again. Sam and Dean grab their menus and you quickly realize there isn't a third, so you go to call the waitress back, but Sam nudges you just before you do.

"It's fine, just share mine." You huddle close next to him, resting your chin on your hand as you survey the food options as Sam does the same. He's so close his hair just so slightly grazes the skin of your cheek. Dean raises his eyebrows when he notices Sam's leg has started bouncing and he covers up his laugh with a cough just as he did last night, busying himself and acting clueless as the two of you look up at him.

"You alright?" You ask jokingly.

"Yup, totally fine. You guys ready yet?"

"Yep. How about you, Sammy?" He clears his throat and doesn't say anything, but he nods his head in response, which has you eyeing him weirdly. You choose to ignore it and let Sam order for you while you kick Dean under the table to stop being flirty with the nice waitress, and he only winks at you before he gives his order too.

When the waitress departs from your table, Dean lets his eyes follow her just for a second before he's turning back to the two of you, and he gets this questioning look on his face when he realizes the two of you are blankly glaring at him with the same narrowed eyes.

"What," he throws his hands up in defense, "I can't admire a good-looking woman?"

You and Sam glance at each other with a knowing glance right before you look back at Dean and say, "What's with you today? Why are you acting so..."

"Strange." Sam says. He leans forward on the table, "Why do you look like you're up to something?"

"Huh? Me?" Dean points to himself, "I'm not up to anything. I'm just being plain old me."

"Yeah, sure." You laugh him off and start a side conversation with Sam that has the two of you forgetting about Dean for the moment. Dean always knew Sam liked you; it's so obvious, at least to him. But he wishes he'd realized before how clearly obvious you are too. He doesn't know if he wants to throw up or throw a party.

...

A couple weeks later

"One or two rooms?" The lady asks.

"One please." Dean replies, handing the lady one of his debit cards that probably had some weird made up name on it. When Dean turns around with his debit card and the key in hand, you and Sam are looking at him weird like a couple of toddlers.

"Really? One room? Since when have we done that?" You questioned.

"Since you and Sammy boy over here started sharing a bed every night. I'm not gonna pay for two rooms when you don't use yours." Dean quickly catches on to how he's embarrassed the two of you so he adds, "and besides, I'd rather you stick with us anyway. Keep the team together." He pats your shoulder with a smirk and leaves the two of you behind. Sam spares a glance at your face and he's a bit surprised to find that you're just as taken aback as he is, but you don't say anything and you follow Dean rather quickly.

The three of you head back to the Impala to grab your bags before heading to the room, and when you go to take out yours, Sam slides in front of you and grabs his in one hand, and yours in the other.

"Sam." You say impassively.

"Yeah?"

"I am fully capable of grabbing my own bag."

"Oh I know. I'm just getting a quick work-out, since you know, your bag is like 50 pounds from all the clothes you carry.

"It is not, I barely bring anything with me!"

"You might be right, but if I may ask, how many of the shirts in here are actually mine?"

You pretend to think, "Um, probably like two. Maybe three."

A wide grin spreads across his face as he laughs at you, "Now you're lying! Half my wardrobe is in here!" Sam pushes the cracked door open with his behind and holds it open for you, standing to the side with his foot on the door. Dean's bag is at the end of his bed and he's already crashed on the bed nearest to the door.

"Hey, it's not my fault your clothes are more comfortable than mine! I don't know who decided that men deserve softer clothes."

"Well, in that case," he dropped the bags, "be my guest."

"Oh, how sweet. I like how you think you had any choice in the matter."

"Haha, very funny. Do you want the first shower?"

"You can take it, I had it the other night. Besides, I need to figure out which shirt I'm stealing tonight. I was thinking of the blue one, or actually, maybe the green-"

"Oh my god, I'm leaving." He rolls his eyes, but you can see the amused smirk on his face as he heads to the bathroom, and gently closes the door behind him. You giggle to yourself as you pull out his blue shirt from your bag and a pair of pants since it's a bit chillier tonight.

He's out of the shower pretty quick, and when he emerges from the steamy bathroom, you're next to Dean's bed whacking him repeatedly with a pillow.

"I told you to stop snoring!" You yell at him.

"Hmph, stop hitting me, crazy woman!" He mumbles sleepily at you. You stop hitting him when you notice Sam watching you, and he wants to laugh at how cute you look, like some kid who's got caught doing something they're not supposed to.

"What, he was bothering me."

He smiles, "I don't doubt it."

He doesn't realize that you froze mainly because he came out in a pair of sweats and no shirt, with his hair dripping wet and a towel around his shoulders. Dean peaks his eyes open and grumbles when he notices the way you're looking at him. You hear Dean, which breaks you out of your temporary trance.

You drop the pillow and give him a sheepish look, "I'm gonna- I'll take my shower now." You nod, promptly leaving the room after you grab the clothes you had set out on your bed. Sam watches you leave, more than a bit confused might he add, suspicious of the way your mood had suddenly changed. Once he hears the water running and the curtain pull back signifying you're in the shower, and can no longer hear him, he settles on the bed and asks Dean a question.

"What happened?"

"You happened, you idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. I'm sick and tired of watching you two pine after the other when you clearly love each other, so for gods sake- no, my sake, tell the girl you love her and get on with it!"

Sam's face is hysterical, and if Dean weren't so tired right now he'd be laughing, but he's exhausted in more ways than one, so all he can do is shut is eyes and hope his little brother makes a move on the girl who's been his practically since the day they met her.

"D-Dean... I can't just-"

"Yes you can, and you will." Dean finalizes. "At this point I'll just do it for you. It's unbearable." Sam huffs loudly, flopping back onto the bed.

He lays there and stares at the ceiling for awhile until he hears his brother's soft snores coming from the other side of the room; when he sits up and runs a hand through his hair, he hears the shower turn off and your light humming become more audible.

He takes a final deep breath just as you walk out of the bathroom with your hair combed nicely and your warm pajamas, perfectly ready for bed. Not exactly ready for your best friend to confess his undying love for you. He wants to crumble at the sight of your smile.

"You okay?" You ask gently. "You look a little pale."

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he waves you off, "When am I not fine?"

You laugh softly, "Do you want me to answer that?"

"Actually no." He gives a soft laugh of his own before his eyes land on his brother again, thinking over the words that were spoken to him just minutes prior to you walking out of that door. You were so near, so close to their conversation, and you have no idea. He can't help but think that maybe you'll be taken aback, shocked beyond belief, or traumatized enough to the point you yell at him and leave him for good. Or, maybe... possibly... there's a small chance you do feel the way that Dean says you feel, and in just a few moments the entirety of your relationship will change. Well, no matter what it'll change.

He just hopes it's what he feels it might be.

Sam's face snaps up to you quickly, like he's just had a sudden thought, and his eyes hold yours for a beat too long before he asks, "Can we go outside for a second?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." He gets up and takes long strides towards the door, you just a foot behind. He opens it and leaves it open for you to slide through, and he's standing there with his hands in his pockets facing away from you. You give him a questioning glance, but he doesn't see it.

"You have the key?" You query.

"Um..." he pulls out the card in his hand to make sure and you giggle at him, but he just nods, putting it back in his pocket, gulping strangely, "Yeah, I got it."

"Okay." You whisper softly, closing the door quietly behind you. You're silent for a moment, giving him a second to see if he'd speak first, but he doesn't. "You okay, Sammy?"

"I'm in love with you."

Not even a beat later, those words exit his mouth, and everything changes. The atmosphere that was once light, comfortable, and knowing, has shifted to one of fearful eyes, harsh breaths and unspeakable tension. His hands, once unafraid to grab hold of you, now remain glued to his side, flexing and itching to reach forward and touch your skin. His heart is beating so fast he feels like it's getting torn out; each individual piece of it being sliced and picked carefully from his chest as if he were on an operating table.

He can't tell if the look on your face is fear or shock. Probably both. But he doesn't know if it's good or bad and it's scaring him.

"Say something." He breathes out, with a drop of desperation.

Your mouth, hung open for a brief amount of time, now closes, and you gulp just like he did before he uttered those five little words.

"What did you say?" you murmur, looking like you just got pulled from space.

He repeats himself. "I'm in love with you."

You don't say anything again, but he continues.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to say that." He interrupts himself with a laugh, a scared, almost detached sounding laugh, but one nonetheless. You stare at him as he goes on. "For weeks I've had these moments where I look at you and all I can think about is telling you how I feel, but then some part of me ruins it and then I forget about it until you do something again that makes me want to say it again."

"Which, I swear is every two seconds because all you have to do is look at me with those eyes and all I want to do is grab your face and tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me and how I can't stand sleeping next to you one more night without you knowing that I can't sleep without you anymore. I need you by my side, tucking your head under mine. It's not that I can't because I could, but I don't ever want to again. I could live a hundred lifetimes, all of them with you in them, but if you weren't mine, if you were someone else's, I wouldn't dare live another."

When he notices the tear streaking down your face, he finally reaches forward to hold your cheek in the palm of his hand. Your own comes up from your side to grip tight onto the wrist that's holding your face, and he can tell that you've noticed he's shaking.

"Sam..." Your voice comes out unsure, "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure?" He questions you, giving you an incredulous look. "Sweetheart, I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

You're holding onto him so tight, he just knows what you're going to say next.

"I love you." You thought it would come out a whisper, but it sounds stronger than you expected. You close your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Sam, I love you so much."

His smile is brighter than a thousand suns, and his forehead drops against yours, staying there as you breath the other in; this new confession bringing in a wind of fresh air that has you feeling like you've both earned a pair of new lungs.

"I thought you might say that." He utters quietly, making you laugh and hit his chest lightly.

"Oh, shut up. Then why were you so scared, dumbass."

"I was confessing my love for you, either way I'm gonna be nervous!"

You smile cheekily, "Your love for me..."

"Don't act like you didn't know." His other hand comes up to hold the other side of your face, tilting your head up more to see you clearly.

"Maybe. But I had my doubts too." You confess.

Sam shrugs, "Well, without Dean I probably wouldn't have said anything for another decade, so-"

Your mouth drops open, "You finally gained the courage because Dean forced you to?" Sam stays still as you gape at him, and he smiles nervously.

"Does it help if I was thinking about it first?"

"Oh my god." You groan dejectedly and drop your head forward onto his chest. He holds the back of your head as he shakes with laughter.

"Okay, okay, be mad at me, whatever. Am I getting my kiss now?"

"Who said you were gonna get one at all?"

"Don't mess with me."

"I wouldn't dare."

...

The next morning, Dean groggily peels his eyes open to the morning sunlight peeking out of the curtains, and grumbles, questioning the time. It's around 8 am, which surprises him because he would have expected you or Sam to have woken him by now. At the thought of you guys, he turns over and manages to find himself alone in the dingy motel room. The bed covers are torn from the top of the bed, more settled towards the end of it, showing that you guys obviously slept in it, but there's no sign you or Sam are even still here.

Suddenly, he hears the low growl of his Baby pulling up outside, making him swing his legs out of bed and trudge over to the door. He swings it open, getting ready to yell at the both of you for going anywhere without him, even if it was breakfast, but his eyes widen and his jaw drops at the sight he's seeing.

You and Sam are standing close together near the trunk, leaning against the side, but mostly the other. Sam's hand, that isn't holding the grocery bags, is holding your hip, and you're looking up at him with a mischievous look in your eye. Sam says something which conjures up a giggle out of you, which then has Sam smiling brightly at the sight of you. He leans down and kisses you straight on the lips, holding you there for a moment before he pulls away to catch his breath. Both of you stand there, unaware of Dean's eyes on you, but neither of you would even really care if you did.

Dean's shocked expression turns to one of accomplishment. He nods, satisfied, and smiles like his brother just did. He sighs.

"Kids."

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bookishdream · 9 months

Text

Masterlist

*last updated on 7/7/22*

Season One

Pilot 1 2 3

Windego 1 2 3

Dead in the Water 1 2

Phantom Traveler 1 2

Bloody Mary

Skin

Hookman 1 2 3

Bugs 1 2 3 4

Home 1 2

Asylum 1 2 3

Scarecrow 1 2 3

Faith 1 2 3

Route 666 1 2 3

Nightmare 1 2 3

The Benders 1 2 3

Shadow 1

Hell House 1 2 3

Something Wicked This Way Comes 1 2 3

Provenance 1 2 3

The Vampire Diaries Drabbles

318 notes · View notes

bookishdream · 9 months

Text

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader) Masterlist

(Y/n) (l/n) was trained by her father, who was a well-known monster hunter before he settled for the apple-pie life, after the death of her mother when she was very young. Now in the wake of her father's death, (y/n) has been going solo on the whole hunting buisness. That is until she meets up with the Winchester brothers and teams up with them. What could possibly go wrong?

Season 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Season 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Season 3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Season 4

Chapter 1

More To Come

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bookishdream · 10 months

Text

its the masterlist, baby

FINAL GIRL | billy loomis x fem!reader

You were his final girl. And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.

more to come…

* inspo found here | playlist here | ao3 link here

various ghostface x fem!reader one shots

somebody’s baby [stu macher x fem!reader one shot] chew on my heart [stu macher x fem!reader one shot] one more time [stu macher x fem!reader one shot] director’s cut [richie kirsch x fem!reader one shot] | inspo found here WOLF [billy loomis x fem!reader x stu macher] | inspo found here dangerous [billy loomis x vampire fem!reader] don’t fear the reaper [ghost!billy x fem!reader one shot]

slasher one shots

the darkness, visible [corey cunningham x fem!reader]

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bookishdream · 10 months

Text

love not at first sight

pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

summary: sam witnesses an intruder breaking in through her window at night...

words: 3.790k

warnings: pepper spraying, punching, swearing, bad writing

authors note: i'm sick, i'm sad and i'm sober. so i decided to drag my ass out of writers block and write about my wife

It was a dull Friday night in the Carpenter apartment; Tara out with her friends partying -much to Sam's dissatisfaction-, Quinn over at one of her boy toys apartment definitely having much more fun than Sam, who sat alone in her living room watching a movie with a glass of red wine.

The movie didn't interest Sam at all, to be honest she only really put on the first movie she saw so she wouldn't be alone in silence.

Sam always enjoyed solitude before the hallucinations, she used to love being alone with her thoughts. But ever since she found out that Billy fucking Loomis was her father, she's never been able to truly enjoy her alone time as she used to.

Paranoid at any given moment she'll hear his voice telling her to make her dark thoughts a reality.

As the movie reached its end Sam sighed, finishing off her wine with it.

The gnawing feeling of protectiveness hit her at the thought of Tara out there partying with her friends. Sam really hated Tara constantly going out to parties, the fear of not knowing where Tara is at all times scaring her more than she'd like to admit.

Sam stood up slowly from the couch as she pulled her phone out of her back pocket, unlocking it to send Tara another message.

Sam (8:45pm): If you need me, call me and I'll be there straight away.

Tara (9:21pm): ok

Sam (10:13pm): I'm heading off to bed soon, I've left the door unlocked for you, please don't stay out too late.

Tara (11:38pm): thx

Sam (12:12am): It's getting quite late now, Tara. Please be back before one, I don't like you staying out so late.

Sam stared at the screen for a few minutes in hopes Tara would respond quickly, but it didn't surprise her when she didn't. Shutting her phone off she shoved it back into her jean pocket, heading towards the dark kitchen with her empty glass of wine.

How sad is this, Sam thought sarcastically to herself as she dropped the glass next to the sink, leaning against the counter for a moment.

Just for that moment she heard a sound, it was essentially non audible, but somehow Sam heard it.

Turning around so her back faced the counter Sam slowly opened the drawer and grabbed the one of many pepper sprays, gripping it tightly in her right hand.

The room fell silent.

Sam's eyes peered around the kitchen frantically, desperately trying to figure out where that noise came from.

When suddenly the kitchen window began rolling open slowly, and a few moments later a figure emerged.

The kitchen wasn't lit with any light which didn't allow Sam to see the intruders face, using that to her advantage she creeped towards the person who had no clue Sam was there.

"I'm never touching fucking jäger again." A feminine voice slurred out, wobbling towards the wall, aimlessly looking out for a light switch.

Sam's steps were featherlight as she crept behind her, her eyes cold and dark as the woman's hand found the light switch on the wall.

The lights flickered on causing the woman to groan as she turned away, her body turning to look at Sam.

Before the woman could do anything Sam without hesitation pepper sprayed the woman right in her eyes erupting a loud scream from the woman.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Sam yelled darkly as she stepped back, the screaming woman covering her already crying red eyes.

"Who the fuck are you?!" You yelled back, copying Sam's words but with much more emotion compared to Sam's tone void of one. "My eyes! I think I'm going blind?!" You screeched, Sam rolled her eyes coldly as she threateningly raised her hand up again, holding the pepper spray.

"Why are you in my apartment?" Sam demanded her patience for this drunken stranger running thin.

"My eyes are burning, oh god they're melting off aren't they?" You whined before she coughed aggressively, completely dismissing Sam's question. "Why did you attack me?" You screamed as you dropped your hands from your eyes, revealing your red bloodshot eyes with red puffy skin, tears flowing out of your eyes at a rapid pace.

"Why wouldn't I?" Sam spat out as she lowered her hand back down, although you were a complete stranger she knew she meant no harm and was only a drunken fool.

You scoffed as you glared at Sam, coughing as you covered your hand over your mouth. "Look, I don't care if you're one of Danny's sleeping buddies, I will kick your ass out of my apartment."

Danny?

"Your apartment? This is my apartment you fucking idiot, nobody named Danny even lives here!" You blinked frowned as you opened your mouth to argue, your eyes finally scanning the scenery around you, finally you noticed that this wasn't your apartment.

Your burning eyes widened dramatically as you turned to look at Sam, eyes not even focused on her.

"You're not one of Brackett's bum buddies?" You questioned in a slurring voice. Sam grimaced at the thought as she figured out you somehow knew Danny, her new friend.

"Danny doesn't even live here, lady. He lives in the apartment complex opposite of here." Sam explained through gritted teeth as she pointed towards the window you came from, pointing towards the other apartment building.

"Oh." You mumbled. Sam scoffed as she nodded her head. "Yes, oh."

"Where the fuck am I then?" Sam was about to strangle you, she swears on her dead fathers grave.

"You're in my house, not yours and Danny's, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd fuck off." Sam explained as she stormed off past you, hitting you in the shoulders as she headed towards the door.

You scoffed loudly as you sloppily turned around to peer at where Sam was going. "No need to be rude, Miss Pepper Spray." You said, laughing a little at your own words as if you were the funniest person on earth.

Sam rolled her eyes as she opened the door with force, leaning against the door. "You live with Danny Brackett?" She asked to which you nodded her head, walking towards Sam, almost tripping over yourself in your high heels.

"How do you know, Miss Pepper Spray?" You mumbled as you walked past Sam, leaving the apartment in whole.

Sam felt ever so tempted to slam the door shut and forget about you, but that gnawing feeling of letting you walk alone in the night didn't feel right to Sam. Especially since you were having issues seeing because Sam had pepper sprayed you.

Biting the inside of her cheeks she watched as you wandered to the opposite end of where the stairs were, talking to yourself at how much your eyes hurt.

"Fuck sakes." Sam grumbled before she marched towards you, dragging you back into the apartment.

"Stop moving so fast!" You whined as Sam shut the door, walking towards the dining table still holding your forearm.

Sam ignored you as she forcefully sat you down on one of the wooden chairs, turning her back on you a few seconds later to grab a 'Pepper Spray Antidote' spray from the same draw she got the pepper spray.

A purchase she had made many months ago after Chad peppered sprayed himself in the eyes.

"Am I back home?" You asked as Sam approached you, her eyes still cold as she grabbed at your jaw, making you look up at her.

Your painfully red eyes widened at the hold. "Don't kill my eyes again please!"

Sam rolled her eyes as she showed you the spray. "This will help with the pain." Sam told you, to which you beamed at. She took that as permission as she stepped closer to you, standing between your legs as she stared down at you. Carefully she began spraying a large amount of the liquid into your eyes, her grip on your jaw softening the slightest.

As Sam suddenly noticed the closeness she couldn’t help but notice how utterly gorgeous you are.

Every single feature about you Sam couldn’t help but find attractive. Your hair, your figure, your lips, your small relieved smile and even your eyes, even when slightly swollen and bloodshot she could still admire your beauty.

Was it the wrong time to think that?

Once she sprayed more than enough on both eyes she dropped the spray onto the table. "Better?" Sam asked, you nodded your head slowly as Sam felt you lean into her hand. "Still hurts like a bitch though."

"Can you see better?" She questioned once again; her voice had softened but you couldn't tell the difference.

"Kinda."

"Good enough." She mumbled as she dropped her hand from your jaw. "I'm taking you back to your actual apartment now, lady. So c'mon."

"Lady? That's fancy." You snorted as you wobbly stood up, arms spread out as you tried to balance yourself.

Sam tried not to facepalm at the entire situation, it made it even harder since Sam for some reason made it her duty to look after you.

"Can you walk?" She asked impatiently, her eyes flickering down to your heels. You looked down with Sam, giggling like a child.

"Jesus, I forgot how big these heels are." Sam sighed as she looked around the apartment to see if there were any trainers near. Her eyes landed on her old Nike trainers, those will do, she thought to herself as she went over to grab them.

Picking them up off of the floor she returned to you. "Do you want to walk back home in these?" You nodded your head greedily at that.

"Please, my feet are killing me more than my eyes." You slurred as you dropped back down onto the chair. Slowly, you took off your heels with a relieved moan.

Not wanting to waste more time, Sam simply dropped to her knees and put the shoes on for you.

"Holy shit, I'm like cinderella." You laughed drunkenly as you looked down at Sam with amusement. Sam huffed as she gazed back up at you, an unamused look on her face. "And you're my prince charming, well, my princess charming. Girls do it better anyway."

Amen to that

Sam stood up swiftly as she offered her hand to you, to which you accepted with a lazy smile. "Thank you my princess charming who pepper sprays people."

The corners of Sam's mouth twitched upwards to which she instantly fought the urge to smile.

"Stop calling me that." Sam mumbled as she walked alongside the slightly more sobered up you, taking slow steps.

"But Miss Pepper Spray Princess Charming is such a good name." You argued with a grin as you walked much straighter than beforehand, still swaying from side to side but it had decreased compared to earlier.

Sam rolled her eyes as your high heels dangled from her hands. "Just call me my real name, Sam."

You turned to look at her with hazy eyes as you smiled widely. "Sam." You said slowly, as if you were testing her name. "I'll just call you princess Sam then."

Sam sighed instantly and she regretted telling you her name, more focused on making sure you'll make it home safely Sam stayed silent.

"So, princess Sam, you wanna guess my name?" You asked, breaking the silence that Sam hoped would fill the walk to Danny's apartment.

"No." Sam grunted as she walked in front of you while walking down the stairs, just in case you'd fall on her, Sam breaking your fall.

You rolled your eyes at Sam's boring answer. "No isn't my name. Try again?"

"Can't we walk in silence until we arrive at yours and Danny's apartment?" You shook your head with a goofy grin as Sam held the door open for you, giggling as you walked past her. "Thank you princess charming Sam, and the answer is no. So guess!"

"Jesus Christ." The tall woman muttered under her breath as she walked by your side, her shoulder touching yours. You snorted as you turned to look at her with an amused expression. "I ain't the big J."

"Annoying?" Sam said sarcastically.

"You're really bad at this guessing game you know." You mumbled as you accidentally leaned closer to Sam as you walked.

Sam huffed a dry laugh as she looked around the quiet street before she crossed the road with you.

"And you really know how to be fucking annoying."

"That's kinda of a cunt thing to say rather than charming, princess Sam." You remarked with a giggle.

Sam's jaw tightened as she would've rather went to the party with Tara rather than have to deal with you, a drunken stranger breaking into her house.

"You're just gonna give up on the guessing game?" You teased with a slight slur still audible to your voice.

Sam nodded her head curtly as she opened the double doors to the apartment complex, holding it open for you once again.

"Guess you'll never find out then." You said as you strolled over to the elevator, grinning to yourself as you entered it.

"How sad." She spat out sarcastically. Sam followed as she stood next to you, who's leaning against the wall.

You clicked the button '7' and within a second the doors closed as a soft hum of elevator music filled up the metal box, taking the two of you upwards.

You hummed along with the music, eyes focused on the small digital clock on top of the doors. Sam studied you -who was completely unaware of her peering eyes- with an un described expression.

Had it been anyone else Sam would've thrown them out without a second thought, maybe even gone further than pepper spraying if the person fought back. But she's going all the steps with you, a complete stranger who randomly lives with her friend.

Is she only doing this in case Danny would find out she had kicked out his venerable and stupid roommate at night, or was it something else?

Sam isn't sure herself.

The elevator dinged loudly dragging Sam out of her thoughts, you sighed as you sluggishly walked out of the elevator, Sam following behind you.

You walked over to the apartment door to which Sam quickly wrapped her long slender fingers around your wrist, dragging you towards the correct door she knew Danny Brackett lived in.

"My saviour, princess Sam." You giggled to yourself.

Sam had completely run out of her patience by this moment, her body tired as she had to deal with this drunken stranger.

Banging on the door roughly with her hand in a tight fist, she stayed like that until a pissed off Danny opened the door.

His eyes widened in confusion as he took in the scene of you, still drunk and leaning against Sam and Sam with an unamused expression.

"You're lucky I didn't kill her." She mumbled to him. You grinned as you noticed Danny, throwing your arms up in the air.

"Ignore her Danny, Princess Sam is just grumpy." You told him as you walked past him, turning to look at Sam one final time, grinning like a fool as you waved enthusiastically. "Bye princess charming Sam."

Sam rolled her eyes as she fluttered her eyes away from your figure to Danny's very apparent smirk.

"Princess Sam?" He asked with amusement, Sam shook her head in annoyance. "Don't."

He laughed as he crossed his arms over his chest, glancing back at you tripping into your room before he leaned against the doorframe.

"Did you see her at the club?" He asked to which Sam shook her head, stifling a dry laugh.

"She broke into my apartment thinking it was yours, so I pepper sprayed her." Danny's eyes widened dramatically as she did a double take back to the direction of your room.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry Sam. That couldn't have been nice. Y/n is such a stupid twat when she gets hammered." He apologised with a sympathetic smile. "Thank you for making sure she got home safe though, even though what she did was just stupid."

Y/n, that name suits her, Sam can't help but think.

Sam laughed for the first time that day as she nodded her head in agreement with him. "Very."

He sighed as he rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb. "I'm gonna go make sure she doesn't choke on her own puke. Again, sorry about her."

"Goodnight, Danny." Sam said with a crooked smile before she turned to leave, more desperate to get to her bed than before.

____________

That night it didn’t take long for Sam to fall asleep. Tara was thankfully back in the apartment and fast asleep in her bed before Sam had even arrived back, which granted Sam permission to lock the door.

Sam couldn’t help but think about you as she fell asleep, much to her annoyance. Her mind kept wandering back to you at any given moment.

Why hadn’t she heard Danny mention you before? How much did you have to drink? How the fuck could someone be so breath takingly beautiful even when shitfaced? Did you think of Sam before you fell asleep?

Eventually Sam managed to fall asleep and stayed asleep for the rest of the night until the day. For the first time in a long time, Sam didn’t have a shift the next morning so the woman could have a much needed lay in.

Waking up around eleven Tara had somehow awakened before her, tiredly making her hangover breakfast. Sam grinned as she entered the kitchen to greet her sister, feeling much better than her younger sister.

The two chatted amongst each other as Sam helped Tara cook since she was convinced Tara was the absolute worst cook ever, always burning or undercooking her meals. After the two had made their meals they moved to eat it in the living room, Tara putting on Brooklyn Nine Nine for them to watch.

As they began eating a loud knock was heard at the door, Tara groaned at the loud noise as Sam sighed getting up from the comfy couch. She placed her plate on the coffee table before she walked over to the door, looking through the peephole she was surprised to see you standing there wearing thick black sunglasses and a small backpack.

Sam hesitated for a moment but reluctantly unlocked the door for you, leaning against the doorframe once she opened the door. You gave Sam a nervous smile as your hand went to lay on the back of your neck.

“Hey, Sam.” You croaked out in a much more sober voice compared to the one you had last night. “Did you sleep well?” You added after a few seconds.

Sam shrugged her shoulders as her eyes gazed at your face, a weird feeling tugging at her heartstrings the longer she gazed at your sunglasses, knowing you were hiding your swollen red eyes.

“Slept as well as a robber after a successful break in.” You chuckled as you nodded your head weakly, your hand dropping from your neck. “I guess that wasn’t the best way to meet, was it?”

Sam scoffed loudly. “No it was not.”

You smiled nervously at the woman as Sam noticed a small blush appearing on your cheeks. “I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I drank way too much, and I know that’s not an excuse for my actions, but the alcohol definitely didn’t help me in any way.” You apologised with an awkward laugh.

For some reason Sam found amusement in the entire situation, fighting the urge to smile because of you once again. “Yeah, I heard you mumbling something about never touching jäger again.”

You automatically winced at the words as if they were revolting, this time Sam couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh at the sight. “I’m honestly impressed I can even stand up straight right now. I had like sixteen shots of jäger from a drinking game.” You said as you pointed at your sunglasses. “Which explains why I'm wearing these glasses indoors, I cannot handle light at all right now. Plus I didn’t want to traumatise people with my fucked up eyes.”

“At least the glasses make you look like a bodyguard.” Sam inquired with a small smile tugging at her lips, you laughed as you nodded your head. “Robber by night, con artist by day.” You say grinning.

Sam laughs at the stupid joke, the corner of her eyes crinkling as her lips curl upwards in a larger smiler.

Why the fuck am I laughing so hard, that was a shit joke.

“Anyway, I came here for another reason other than apologising.” You explained as you shrugged off your bag. Sam watched you carefully as you took out Sam’s borrowed pair of shoes, smiling nervously as you passed them back over. “Thanks for letting me borrow these, Princess Charming.”

Sam rolled her eyes as she snatched the shoes from you, biting her inner cheek. “Just call me Sam..”

You shook your head as you smirked, letting out a low laugh as you zipped your bag back closed, throwing it over your shoulders. “But you’re the princess charming to my cinderella.”

“Whatever.” Sam muttered with a small smile.

You sighed as you glanced down the hallway before you looked back at Sam, your mouth opening to say something before you abruptly shut it before any words could be uttered. Pursing your lips you nodded your head at Sam.

“See you around, Sam.”

Sam almost frowned as she noticed you were leaving, instead she gave you a curt nod back. You waited for a second for Sam to say anything but she stayed silent, you smiled at her one final time before you turned to leave.

She watched you leave until you were fully out of her view, only then she sighed before reentering her apartment, holding her shoes as she walked back towards the living room.

“Who was that?” Tara asked, her voice loud taking Sam by surprise, making the woman drop the shoes. “Shit.” Sam grumbled as she bent down to pick them up, as she snatched at the pair she noticed a piece of paper on the floor.

Her brows furrowed together confused as she went to grab it with her free hand. As Sam read the small ripped piece of paper the corners of her lips curled up into a smile.

“i usually make better first impressions, maybe i could show you on a date sometime? :)

xxx-xxx-xxxx

-Y/n”

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bookishdream · 10 months

Text

THE DEAL

╰┈➤ ❝ the masterlist ❞

summary: Rafe Cameron’s always been a trust fund kid, living off his daddy’s money and abusing of his privilege, but when his father cuts him off, will he be able to build a normal life for himself as a college student? What if that one friend he knows from his economics class is willing to make an interesting deal with him to help him?

warnings: there will be specific warnings for each chapter. this series is 18+ as it contains mature themes. cheating is the major warning (basically the whole plot) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: frat!rafe x innocent friend!reader

nav the spotify playlist

add yourself to my taglist <3

add yourself to my rafe taglist <3 (if you want to be added only to the taglist of this series you can specify it in the end note of the form!)

- sneak peak

╰┈➤ ❝ chapter one ❞

❝ chapter two ❞

❝ chapter three ❞

❝ chapter four ❞

❝ chapter five ❞

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bookishdream · 10 months

Text

Untouchable

part 1 | part 2

synopsis it is crucial that the head boy and girl of Kildare Academy work together. Too bad the head girl is you and the head boy is Rafe Cameron.

wc 2K

Rafe Cameron likes to do this thing where he pretends that he's hopelessly in love with you.

Every morning, when you walk past him in the Academy carpark, he says, “Good morning, sweetheart.” Easy on the morning, rolling the sweet over his tongue so heart sounds thick as brown molasses. He always has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the emblem on his breast-pocket hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. Sometimes you humour him. Often you avoid acknowledging him altogether.

He has a tendency to call you every pretty noun under the sun except your actual name. Though he has a certain predilection for sweetheart, he’ll always follow up your carpark rendezvous—if you could even call it that—with a, “Wait up, beautiful!” Gorgeous if you’re particularly unlucky. You’re pretty sure he does this because it’s more convenient than remembering your name; that, or he’s covering his ass in case he mixes you up with the other girls on his roster.

“C’mon,” he adds, catching you up with ease, “think you can give me a smile today, birdie?”

That’s a new one. You frown hard, conveying your disapproval at being branded by yet another nickname against your will.

“Think you can show me you deserve it, Cameron?”

Rafe slaps his hand against his chest, faux-affronted. “Oof, I’m wounded.” He grins fondly. “You know that it’s bad luck to ice out the Head Boy on the first day, right?”

“Don’t remind me,” you mutter grimly, quickening your pace in an attempt to create some distance from him. It’s a futile attempt at hostility; he’s heading to the same handsome office that you are, home to the Academy’s once imposing headmaster.

He’s gotten soft over the years. It’s the only explanation, really, for why he’s chosen such a diametrically opposed duo to be the Head Boy and Girl respectively. Where you’re serious, unsmiling, easy on the eyes and hard on the ego, Rafe Cameron is this cocky, deceptively charming wall of solid muscle. He’s attractive in that way that’s made him every girl’s default love interest, and even worse, he enjoys the attention as much as you absolutely hate it.

“Remind you?” Rafe echoes, feigning bemusement. “Of what? That we’re partners now, partner?”

You force a breath of air out through your nose, halting in your tracks and turning to face him. He doesn’t think you look nearly as formidable as you want to, especially with that sweet, little furrow between your eyebrows. He tries to look earnest, as if proving his maturity is going to make you hate him any less than you do.

He’s to blame for the animosity, of course — callow, sophomore year him who called you “seriously fucking hot” in the boy’s locker room, and then in the gym, within earshot, added, “shame she’s such a frigid bitch, huh?” He didn’t mean it, and he was very clearly wounded; if you could’ve seen his face as he’d said it, maybe the cracks in his armour of indifference would’ve been more obvious. Maybe you would’ve realised he was deflecting from the fact that your rejection had really hurt him.

But then again, maybe you wouldn’t have. Because in what world was yelling “Go out with me?”—crudely, callously, you might add—from across the classroom meant to be taken for real? You’d assumed that sophomore year him was making fun of you. When you said no, he assumed that sophomore year you just wasn’t interested.

Fast forward two years, to now, it’s clear that neither of those assumptions were wholly true. You walk past the front reception and toward the headmaster’s office in tandem, halting just short of his closed door, a polished knocker hanging directly above eye-level.

As you reach up and press it against the smooth mahogany, you send him a wayward glance. “Just because we have to work together this year,” you say evenly, “doesn’t mean we have to be friends. Alright?”

“Yes ma’am.” He nods, sending you a mock salute.

This just makes you frown harder than before, as if that’s fucking possible. He’s going to get a smile out of you if it fucking kills him. “I mean it, Cameron.” You let go of the knocker to punch your forefinger into his chest, eyes narrowed sternly. “No more sweetheart, beautiful, gorgeous, honey, whatever. If there’s one thing I deserve, as your,” you raise your fingers in air-quotes, “‘partner’, it’s a bit of respect. That clear?”

He’s never once called you honey. He raises his eyebrows. “Darling?”

You let out this sigh that’s more disappointment than frustration, like you didn’t want to deal with this, like you almost expected more from him. It makes his mouth go dry. “You know what?” you say, shaking your head defeatedly. “Never mind. I thought... I don't know, I thought that if Cromwell’d chosen you to be the Head Boy, maybe you’d done some growing up since sophomore year. But clearly he's getting old, because —”

“Who’s getting old?” A pleasant voice interrupts, the mahogany door in front of you jolting open abruptly. “Miss Y/L/N,” Headmaster Cromwell adds, mock-austere. “I sure hope you aren’t talking about me.”

“Headmaster Cromwell,” you answer, eyes widening sheepishly. “I didn’t mean —”

“She was talking about me, Crom-dog,” Rafe pipes up, throwing him arm around your shoulder genially. When he pulls you into his side, the smell of his vetiver and musk cologne grows ever present. “Us. How we’re no longer the scrawny little freshmen we were when we first met you.”

He pauses, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. “Women, am I right? Always so sentimental.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, shaking him off in a hurry. “Anyway.”

“Anyway,” Rafe agrees with a grin, shoving his hands into his pockets. For the price you pay for a uniform blouse, he privately thinks it should be made of thicker fabric. He can still feel your soft skin pressing into all his finger calluses. “You wanted to see us, sir?”

He nods significantly, beckoning the two of you into his office. “Yes, yes, come in,” he says, taking a seat in his brown leather chair, the headrest cracking with age. “First day of senior year, eh? How are the two of you feeling?”

“Apprehensive,” you say, sending Rafe a glare.

He meets your gaze with something akin to amusement, his blue eyes full of mirth. “Sentimental.”

“Ah.” Cromwell raises his eyebrows, regarding the pair of you with interest. “And you’ll be conveying these emotions at your address this Friday, I imagine?”

Your head whips back to his desk, bottom lip pulling between your teeth. “Oh. Um —”

“Because of course,” he adds, clasping his hands together on his desk, “the start of year speech isn’t just tradition, it’s a collaborative effort. As head students, leading the fortnightly school assemblies is going to be one of your biggest responsibilities.”

“Right,” you agree, nodding vigorously. “I assure you, Headmaster Cromwell, it’s all under control.”

Rafe turns to face you, surprised. “It is?”

“Of course it is, Cameron,” you answer tiredly, not bothering to meet his gaze.

Cromwell frowns. “A collaborative effort, Miss Y/L/N.”

You swallow a sigh, plastering on a smile before turning in tandem and nodding. Fake though it may be, being on the receiving end of one of your smiles makes Rafe unusually pleased. He grins back handsomely, his head cocked toward you in a way that accents his stubbled jawline.

“All I’m saying is,” you say carefully, the smile becoming more gritted teeth than anything remotely amicable, “I’ve… made a start on it. I know that you’ve got football trials to organise, so I thought —”

“Successfully delegated,” Rafe interjects. “Got Ollie organising them this year.” He pauses, leaning toward you and clearing his throat. “You know… to free up time for this partnership.”

“Excellent!” Cromwell exclaims before you’re able to protest, clapping his hands together approvingly. “Already taking initiative. Excellent, excellent…”

He reaches for the hefty stack of papers to his left, plucking off the two forms at the top of the pile. “Here,” he says, handing one to each of you. “A suggested programme for your first meeting with this year’s prefects.”

You accept it with a nod, scanning over the template before folding it once, twice, careful. Beside you, Rafe throws his into his bag callously, threatening a migraine.

“As you know, alongside the school assemblies, you’ll be in charge of timetabling prefect duties and maintaining order. Of course, we’ll meet every fortnight or so so I can check in — ensure everything’s running as smoothly as possible.” He pauses here, looking between you through assessing grey eyes. “Being the face of this institution is a massive undertaking, you two. You’re responsible for more than just the student body… you’re responsible for Kildare Academy’s legacy.” Another pause. “It can be quite the burden. It’s important that you trust each other… know that you can rely on one another.”

You clear your throat gauchely. Rafe feels this strange jolt in his chest as Cromwell’s words wash over him.

You’re saved the awkwardness of having to respectfully disagree with him by the peal of the bell, signalling the start of first period. Cromwell springs up and nods in dismissal, the lapels of his suit jacket quivering like jowls. “Alright then!” He exclaims, smiling jovially. “I look forward to hearing your address this Friday!”

You return his smile, albeit reluctantly, avoiding eye contact with Rafe as you turn around and exit. Though you’re determined to make it to class without having to engage in any more conversation, it appears Rafe Cameron’s more determined to do the opposite.

Scratch unnecessary though. He’s pretty sure every precious second that he’s trying for more receiving-end smile is another that shows him time is of the essence.

“What did you reckon?” He asks, messing with his dirty-blonde locks absentmindedly.

The side of his elbow brushes your blouse, and you begin to walk faster, incensed by his closeness. Despite this, he refuses to back down, “Think it’s true? Him retiring this year? Cause shit, it’d explain all that crap about responsibility and legacy.”

You frown at your feet and continue to soldier forward. Rafe tries again, “Remember when Jake was head boy? Kelce’s older brother? Swear to God he didn’t get speeches like that from Crommy… I mean, shit, he was doing all this and organising football practice, not to mention all the parties he—”

“Look,” you interrupt abruptly, letting out a tired sigh. “Yeah, whatever, I won’t tell Cromwell, alright? As long as you just… just do everything you’re scheduled to do.”

Rafe turns toward you, frowning bemusedly. “Huh?”

“That’s what you’re getting at, right?” You ask impatiently, because you’re late and the second bell is about to ring and you really don’t have time for this, not with Rafe Cameron. “Doing the bare minimum just like Jake Smith did? Because yeah, whatever, that’s fine — in fact, I’d almost prefer it to trying to work together.”

Rafe draws back slightly, regarding you for a moment. “Huh.” A pause. “You think I don’t deserve it.”

You balk at his expression, something dejected behind blue irises. “Well, I,” you hesitate, “no. I just… I don’t want to work with someone who doesn’t consider this a priority.”

“You’re a priority to me,” he says, referring to the guy sophomore year you had once rejected.

“Not me,” you mutter irritatedly, cheeks warming. “Head student stuff. You know — all those things Jake Smith got away with not doing?”

“As I seem to recall,” Rafe replies matter-of-factly, unperturbed, “I’ve already delegated football trials to Ollie to free up time.”

“For the speech,” you say slowly, unsure.

For you. “For the speech,” Rafe affirms, looking down at you in this sincere way that makes your head hurt.

You swallow. “Alright then. We’ll do it Wednesday after school.”

Rafe grins triumphantly, nudging your chin with the hook of his forefinger. “Your place or mine, sweetheart?”

“Cameron,” you warn, ducking out of his reach with a frown.

“Sorry.” He nods faux-apologetically. “You prefer honey, huh?”

“If you call me anything other than my name, I’ll murder you in your sleep.”

“In my sleep?” He asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “So you’ll be on my bed, huh? Knew it. Knew you had a secret thing for me.”

“School library, Cameron,” you say grimly, beginning to walk away. “Right after fifth period on Wednesday. Don’t be late.”

Rafe nods again, sending you a mock salute. “Oh don’t worry,” he calls after you. “I never keep a lady waiting.”

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bookishdream · 11 months

Text

you can hear it in the silence

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem reader

tags: reader is female and uses she/her, no use of y/n, fluff then angst then fluff again, canon typical violence/content, near death experiences, reader gets injured, BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS MY BELOVED, title from you are in love by taylor swift sorry not sorry

word count: 7.5k woah howd that happen

notes: btw i have not read the books and have no idea how the series lore works. im just a tv show enjoyer who loves using Every Single Trope in the book <3

You decided to blame it all on the black cat you passed that morning.

There was really just no other explanation as to why you were having the worst possible luck imaginable.

It started when George insisted that the four of you celebrate the latest win for Lockwood and Co. Hung on the fridge was a chalkboard that was updated daily, labeled ‘Days Gone Without a Near Death Encounter’. The company had reached its latest milestone, which was reflected in the large number ten written on the board in Lucy’s neat handwriting.

“Oh, come on, Lockwood. Just smile for the picture,” Lucy demanded, not able to keep the smile off of her face. George peered over her shoulder at the sight of you wrestling him into position next to the fridge.

“And why am I the one being subjected to this?” He asked indignantly.

“Well, we had to have the sign’s number one offender in the picture, of course,” you explained simply, dodging his hand that aimed to yank at your ear.

He shot you a flat look, but you could see the way his eyes shone with mirth and the way a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Without a doubt, this was your favorite thing about being a part of Lockwood and Co. Sure, you loved the adrenaline that came with containing visitors and looking for sources, but nothing would beat this. Laughing around the kitchen, stomachs full from George’s great cooking, Lucy inevitably poking fun at Anthony, and everyone’s spirits high after a successful job.

You particularly loved the way that Anthony was finally able to bring himself to relax. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, you could see how the burden of his responsibilities was affecting him. You had known him long before he became the sole resident of 35 Portland Row, before the business, and before George and Lucy managed to fight their way into his heart. You had remained each other's constant through it all.

Thus, all of his attempts to hide his internal struggles were not lost on you. You tried to make things easier for him at every turn, triple checking the kits before you left for a job, washing the dishes even though it was definitely his turn, and doing absolutely anything you could to make his life easier.

“You’re too soft on him,” George accused you one day, kicking your foot lightly with a sly smile on his face. “You nearly tackled me over the couch the last time I tried taking the last of the noon khamei that, must I remind you, I made.”

“You must be going mad, Karim, because that never happened,” you said with a laugh, looking up from your drawing of George and his scheming face that you were sketching onto the Thinking Cloth. Cartoon George’s eyebrows were furrowed together, a frown on his face while he was trying to figure out how to beat Anthony at chess. Real George grinned back at you, ready to fire back a retort before Anthony spoke up after moving one of his pieces.

With a mouth full of noon khamei, he said, “And that’s why she’s my favorite.”

“I’d better be your favorite, after putting up with you for this long,” you said in disbelief. “I would’ve made you choke on that pastry if you said it was George.”

Anthony used his ankle that was hooked around your chair leg to pull you an inch closer to the table.

“You were the only candidate for the spot.”

The two of you shared a smile while Anthony checkmated George’s king.

After another minute of arguing, you were able to corral him into taking the picture by the chalkboard. George and Anthony left the kitchen to set up the movie in the next room, a whirlwind of arguments over what you would be watching. You and Lucy trudged up the steps in the meantime, going to return her camera to her room. The two of you placed bets on who would break the company’s streak next, and Lucy was insistent that it wouldn’t be her.

Still laughing when you reached the top floor, you pushed open Lucy’s door and moved to land face first on her bed.

You adored Lucy’s room. After a few months at Lockwood and Co., her room was now completely transformed from the attic full of extra junk to an actual bedroom. Her bedside table was full of her small belongings that you loved to look through. A pair of small scissors that she used to trim her bangs whenever they got the slightest bit too long. A stack of her audio recordings she had yet to send to her friend Norrie. Her black nail polish. At the foot of her bed was her pair of Converse that she had kicked off earlier.

“Oh, look, the picture developed.” She held the picture out to you to see, pulling your attention away from the pictures pinned on her mirror.

You took the freshly developed photo out of her hand and couldn’t help but let a smile take over your face. Anthony was half grinning and the board was tilted from when you accidentally knocked him into it. You could see where your hand was curled around his bicep to keep him from ducking out of frame. You moved to hand it back to Lucy, but she shook her head, smiling like she knew something you didn’t.

“It’s for you.”

“Really?”

This confused you. Lucy never really gave away the photos she took, instead choosing to stick them on her walls. She was almost completely done covering one of the posts in her room, and you assumed she wanted to add it to her collection. Except she nodded, the odd grin still painted across her face. She moved for the staircase, leaving no room for argument.

“I guess you’re right, if Anthony got his hands on this, he’d probably toss it,” you agreed, moving down the stairs after her.

Lucy had to fight the urge to hit you. You and Lockwood were really some of the stupidest people she had ever met.

Slipping into your bedroom that was next to Anthony and George’s, you reached onto your shelf for your photo album. You had lots of pictures of the four of you, but not nearly as much as Lucy. All of yours fit into one photobook, and you flipped to the nearest empty page. You froze while sliding the picture into the sleeve. It was actually really cute.

Well. No one would know.

You darted down the steps after Lucy, the photo safe in your wallet and your album back in its spot on the shelf.

The small television sat in the center of the living room, the movie already playing. Everyone was sitting in their unassigned assigned seats, Lucy in her armchair on the left and George lounging on the single couch opposite her. Anthony, ever the annoyance, was sprawled out along the length of the entire couch, his long legs kicked up on the arm rest while his feet, clad in pink socks, hung off the edge. You grumbled to yourself and cursed everyone for starting the movie while you were gone. You laid down hard on top of Anthony, causing the air to leave his lungs. You repositioned yourselves for a while, before finally ending up with you laying down on your back and him draped on top of you on his stomach. His head rested under your chin, and your legs were tangled together. He shifted and you could smell cinnamon.

“You smell nice,” you mumbled into his hair.

“Quit sniffing me.”

“You remind me of a flower.”

“You’re terribly allergic to them.”

“I know.”

The film played for a few more minutes. The movie was actually pretty interesting, and you watched in amusement as the main character slipped down the stairs and toppled into the love interest.

“This movie sucks,” Anthony mumbled into your neck.

You smoothed a hand over the back of his messy hair.

“Why would you let George choose it?” you whispered back.

“I didn’t. I chose it.”

You rolled your eyes and did not respond, opting to watch the movie instead. Anthony had a terrible habit of talking whenever anything played on television. The only times you could pay attention to movies was when he was fast asleep. Your hand began to card through his brown hair, and it felt like his body melted into yours.

He groaned, reaching up with his arm to half-heartedly swat your hand away from his head.

“Stop that. I’m going to fall asleep.”

“The only other way to get you to fall asleep is by taking a bat to your head. I’m up for that too, if you’d prefer.”

“It’s so fun when you threaten me.”

George shushed you both from his side of the room, oddly defensive over a movie he was arguing against less than half an hour ago.

“If you guys could stop talking, that'd be great.”

You held up your hands in surrender. Anthony did too, you guessed, as he quickly reached to pull one of your hands from the air and back to his head. So much for not wanting to sleep. After a few more minutes of lightly dragging your hands through his hair and sweeping stray hairs out of his face, he was out like a light. You craned your neck slightly to see if he was actually asleep. Your heart constricted in your chest.

As his best friend, you would admit that Anthony looked nice. Most people would agree. When he wore his trademark button up shirt and tie and had a blinding smile plastered on his face he could charm his way into whatever he wanted. But nothing would beat the way he looked here at home, in a tee shirt and comfortable pajama pants, his hair haphazard from you running your fingers through it.

You fell asleep to the sound of church bells as the man on screen kissed the bride.

—

Your neck tickled. You moved your right arm, not surprised to find it stuck. Opening your eyes, a familiar scene was before you, the sight of you and Anthony tangled together on the small couch. Ridding yourself of him was always like solving a difficult puzzle. In his sleep, Anthony always found a way to cling, as if you’d run away in your sleep. It appeared that your position had not changed much while the two of you were off to Dreamland. He was hung half on top of you, his right leg sandwiched between both of yours, an arm curled over your waist and his hand stuck under your back. His face was burrowed into the area between your shoulder and your jaw, and when he exhaled, you could feel the warmth tickle your neck.

Your favorite blanket was falling off of Anthony’s leg and onto the carpet. It was your favorite blanket, a funny one that George had knit for your last birthday. Stitched above a slightly lopsided cartoon ghost was a stupid joke.

Why do ghosts ride lifts?

It raises their spirits.

Lucy must’ve thrown it over the both of you last night, but she didn’t take into account how Anthony was a living, breathing, fully functioning human heater. You were convinced that all of his thoughts bounced around his head like crazy and significantly increased his body temperature. He said it was from the high blood pressure he got from being around you so much. You decided to agree to disagree.

A clink could be heard from somewhere in the house, presumably the kitchen. Your stomach echoed its hunger at you. You snuck a chance at Anthony, who was still fast asleep.

During the night, Anthony had herded you between the cushion and the back of the couch, his body effectively creating a barrier between you and the door. You could practically feel your heart soften at this. Another new change that came from the start of the company was a rather… fierce protective side that came out of him. Even asleep, his mind was working at a million miles per hour. One of your free arms rubbed up and down his back, which seemed to make him stir awake.

“Anthony, let go.”

He ignored you and his grip seemed to get even tighter. “Good morning,” he rasped instead.

Your heart, still softened from thoughts of your best friend, lurched violently against your ribcage. Not even you were immune to the way he sounded first thing in the morning.

“I’m going to starve to death if you don’t let me go eat.”

“Oh no,” he mumbled, moving you in his arms so that your back was pressed firmly to his chest. “What wood would you like the coffin to be made of? Do you prefer an open or closed casket?”

He caught your wrist and held it against your chest when your arm moved to hit him in the face.

“Mmm… Mahogany. And open casket, but only if you get Lucy to agree to do my makeup. You can’t have me looking like a corpse at my funeral.”

“As if I’d ever allow that. But I’ve just remembered we’d have to use silver for the coffin, actually. We can’t have your ghost coming back to visit us.”

You smiled as you absentmindedly spun the ring around his finger. “You could do the eulogy, I guess. I wouldn’t want to overwhelm George, as I’d like him to do the catering.”

He hummed noncommittally into your shoulder, and you could tell he was nodding off again.

“And invite Kipps for me too, please.”

He stiffened. Scoffing, he tightened his grip on you the slightest bit again.

“If he even thought about showing up, I’d put his rapier right up-”

A new noise chimed in now, a crash from the kitchen.

You sat straight up, senses heightened.

“Hello?” You called out.

There was no response.

You pushed yourself up off the couch, climbing over Anthony’s legs.

You padded across the wooden floors, your socks quieting the sound of you moving across the room. Nearly tripping over a stack of books from the library that George left sitting around, you walked past the other couches and reached to grip the doorknob in your hand. Anthony beat you to it, though, and he slipped into the hallway before you.

Prick.

The hallway was empty. A quick glance up the steps showed that it was also void of life. You caught a glimpse of old newspaper clippings that mentioned the company and of course, ones mentioning Lockwood himself. You turned back around, and was met with the sight of Anthony brandishing his rapier, having silently pulled it from its stand next to the front door.

“Relax,” you whispered. “The scariest thing you’ll see this early in the morning is George without his trousers on.”

It was able to get a slight laugh from him, but the crease between his eyebrows told you he was still worried. Your hushed tone and nervous shuffling told him the same thing.

In the corner of your eye, the both of you caught movement through the frosted glass that led to the kitchen. A figure moving, one that was much too tall to be George or Lucy. Your breath caught in your throat.

Anthony turned to you, a serious look on his face now. Stay back, he seemed to say. He continued towards the door, his sword held defensively in front of him. You slid yours out of its holder as well and followed behind him.

His hand rested on the doorknob and he turned to face you again.

One.

Two.

Three.

He slammed the door open, its hinges creaking in protest. It seemed like the glass would rattle straight out of the door with the force of it colliding into the door stop. Anthony’s gaze swept around the room, surveying the danger. You held your rapier up in front of you, ready to jump into action. Instead, you watched as he pulled his sword out of view from whoever was in the kitchen, and rested it on the doorway.

“Well, good morning,” he said, cheerily, and you already knew he had his endearing smile on. “To what do we owe this pleasure, sir?” He stepped over the threshold and continued conversing with this person in the kitchen.

Taking it as a sign that no danger was nearby, you lifted his sword and returned both of yours to the rack before following him into the room.

Sitting in your usual chair was a young man, probably in his early twenties. He had messy blonde hair, which looked like he, too, had just rolled out of bed and come straight to 35 Portland Row’s kitchen. His face was sickly pale, and it looked like he was going to pass out right on the chair in the middle of the room. George was standing in front of the pantry, looking rather upset with a broken glass in hand.

All of that worrying because of a young man and a broken cup.

“Forgive my state of dress and rather abrupt entrance, Mr. Moore. You can never be too careful these days, can you?” Lockwood asked, smoothing his own hair back into place while continuing to beam at the strange man in your seat.

You made your way over to George, who ran a hand through his unruly curls in frustration.

“What’s up, Georgie?”

He sighed, tossing the remains of the cup in the trash before turning around and pressing his palms to the counter. “Yesterday, Lucy was badgering me so much about picking up last nights’ movies that I completely forgot to restock our food supply.”

“So?”

“Usually, I wouldn’t care, but,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “this man looks like he’s a second from keeling over, and we have nothing to offer him. You should’ve seen the way he looked when he came knocking about an hour ago. He looked even worse than he does now.”

You two dared a glance at the man in question, who was swaying slightly in his seat. Tears were forming in his eyes, and his hands were shaking. He tried to clench and unclench his fingers to hide it, but the tremors were clear as day.

“I could run to Arif’s, pick up some doughnuts,” you offered. If he was this unwell now, you could only imagine what kind of state he was in when George opened the front door.

George’s entire face seemed to light up. “That’d be great. I’m going to get the kits ready, it looks like we have a job on our hands.” He disappeared down into the basement, whistling down the steps. You could hear the sound of keys jingling as he swung the keyring around his finger.

You continued toward the front door, and squeezed one of Anthony's shoulders to let him know you were heading out. Still deep into his serious conversation with Mr. Moore, he nodded his head slightly towards the coat rack. Don’t forget.

You gave him a show of sliding your arms through the sleeves of your jacket and even throwing on the warmest scarf you could find before shutting the door behind you.

—

It passed you when you were crossing the street back to the house.

A small black cat, sprinting in front of you like one of its nine lives depended on it. You nearly dropped the dozen doughnuts in your hand, and you watched as it dived into a nearby bush. How cute.

(You would later retract this statement.)

You opened the door and were met with the sound of voices coming from your right, in the sitting room. Anthony and Mr. Moore were immersed in their discussion, a piece of paper full of notes in the former’s lap.

You placed the box in front of the older man and insisted he take one. Up close, his condition looked even worse. Dark circles, much more severe than Anthony’s, hung under his eyes. Wrinkles littered his face although the man could have been no older than twenty-five.

“Sir, I assure you that coming here to Lockwood and Co. was the best decision that you could have made. We will deal with this issue as soon as possible, and I hope that we are able to give you peace of mind.”

When Anthony spoke to clients, he tended to slip into a persona. He would play up his confidence and feign concern. But the sympathy that dripped from his words now was genuine, and you felt yourself worry for this Mr. Moore.

You settled down on the couch next to Lockwood. Anthony handed you your tea, which had a splash of milk and a small bit of honey, and he took his usual doughnut from you, which was filled with creme. The man gave a weary smile after finishing off a jam doughnut.

“Me and my love Elizabeth were just like you two,” he whispered, voice catching.

You sat a bit straighter on the couch.

Mr. Moore stood up, and Lockwood followed suit. “I assume that you can understand how I feel, son.”

“I understand completely,” agreed Anthony.

“Promise to take care of your love, Mr. Lockwood. Better than I took care of mine.”

The two of you responded at the same time.

“Oh, we aren’t-”

“I swear it.”

The two men shook hands before Lockwood directed him to the door.

You could do nothing but sit on the couch in shock. Anthony’s words echoed in your head.

I understand completely.

I swear it.

I understand completely.

I swear-

“It’s rather cold out. Were you fine on the walk to Arif’s?”

Anthony asked you this while pulling the scarf from around your neck and slinging it over the back of the couch. The words were sweet, and while his voice usually made you feel as happy as the tea he made you, you currently felt about as sick as Mr. Moore looked.

“Why did you say that?”

He looked taken aback for a moment before he pinched your side.

“Sorry, if it’s a crime to wonder if someone with Touch was about to get her fingers frozen off.”

“Not that,” you sighed, shrugging your jacket off. He took it from you and hung it up on another coat rack. “That thing you said to Mr. Moore. We aren’t… We aren’t lovers. Why didn’t you deny it?”

He stood as still as the rack he was in front of. He turned to face you with no sign of his Anthony Lockwood confidence on his face. It was a bit eerie. The two of you stared at each other for a few moments longer in silence. He pursed his lips before one of those fake smiles you hated to see took over.

“Just building rapport with the client.”

Your heart sank.

“Right.”

“The mutual understanding is good for-”

“I know, Lockwood.”

His fake grin seemed to flicker off his face at the use of his last name. He was always ‘Anthony’ to you. But Lockwood was who was standing in front of you now, having this conversation with you.

“I’m going to go get ready now,” you explained, shifting your weight awkwardly as you slipped past him out of the sitting room. You looked about ready to bolt away from him. “I assume we’re heading out in a few hours?”

He wanted to say something. Your fingers were already gripped tightly around the banister, your feet carrying you halfway up the first flight of steps.

What did you want him to tell you? That he was in love with you? That you were the first person he looked for when he walked into a room? That he did nothing but worry about you, wonder if you were okay, and desperately need you to be safe?

Instead, he nodded. “Yeah.”

You could do nothing but accept his response and wonder why it hurt so bad. You gave him one of your fake smiles, too, it only getting slightly genuine when you passed Lucy on her way down the steps. Lucy reached the bottom of the steps and her and Lockwood stared at each other for a few beats of silence.

“You’re even more dense than she is,” she complained, before making her way over to the box of sweets.

—

You were right to worry about Mr. Moore. Lockwood had explained it to you on the way over, his recap filling the silence of the cab instead of your usual joking. It was just the both of you. Lucy had planned months ago to go see Norrie today, and George had gone to do the much needed food shopping he had forgotten about in his haste yesterday.

Mr. Moore, or Leonard Moore, was now the only one living at 15 Ashburn Way. His wife, Elizabeth, had been murdered last week. The tragedy was a result of a rogue burglar that had struck her over the head before fleeing the scene. Leonard was away on a business trip and came back to find her body in their bedroom.

They had been childhood sweethearts and were married on Elizabeth’s twenty-first birthday. The lovely couple bought a nice house further away from the busy city, a home big enough to start a family in. She hadn’t been born with a Talent, but Leonard had. His gift of Sight was just now beginning to wear off, and every night after her death, her death-glow stayed beside Leonard, a harsh reminder of everything that happened.

Mr. Moore had no idea what the source could be, but her personal effects were all located in her bedside table on the second floor. He said that he saw Elizabeth early this morning. She was rageful and charged for him, Leonard narrowly being able to escape dying by Ghost Touch. The situation had utterly destroyed him.

“That’s tragic,” you mumbled. Poor Mr. Moore.

Lockwood went silent after your acknowledgment. He had been talking to you, but your lack of response the entire ride made it seem like he was talking to himself in an empty taxi. You had spent the better half of the cab ride staring out the window, watching the buildings get sparser and the greenery begin to take over as you neared the suburbs. You could see his face reflected in your window. He looked surprised at your response.

His call of your name was cut off by you turning to him abruptly. “We’re here.”

You slipped the cab driver his payment and as always, Lockwood beat you to opening your own door. You swore he could teleport.

The house was beautiful. It wasn’t too big or small, and you could see yourself wanting to live in a house like this in the future. It was in a nice, quiet neighborhood, too. The two of you smiled at a passing neighbor who wished you a good night.

Anthony seemed to read your mind. “It’s cute, isn’t it? I can see why they chose to live here.”

You couldn’t help but give him a real smile. “Yeah.”

The gate to the house was wide open, a testament to how fast Mr. Moore had left. The grass was neatly kept, although a little overgrown. A swing was hung from an oak tree in the front yard. Although they did not have any children, it was already on its way to becoming a picture perfect family home. You could picture little kids running around here and summer picnics in the grass. It all made you so unfathomably sad.

You were lagging behind. Lockwood had already climbed up the porch steps and was watching you look around the property. You knew he was just observing and not rushing you, but you couldn’t help but pick up your pace to join him.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said, adjusting your grip on your bag.

He blinked a bit sadly at you and a soft call of your name slipped past his lips.

Your stomach churned. You reached out to grasp him firmly by the wrist, the one without his watch on it. “Anthony, I know. We can talk about it later, alright? The sun is setting.”

He wanted to argue with you about it. It was written clear as day on his face. But he knew you had a job to do.

“Right.” With one final look at you, he slipped the house key into the door and pushed it open.

You shined your torch on the light switch, and flicked it on. The house burst into light, bringing life back into the home. Anthony looked at the thermostat.

“It’s broken.”

You shared a look before walking through the kitchen. At the table was leftovers for a meal for one.

A crunch could be heard under Anthony’s foot. A broken glass, the liquid once in it sitting around the debris. A knife was sitting uselessly on the ground a few feet away.

“Do you think he tried fighting back?” you asked quietly.

“Probably. Neither of them strike me as the kind to throw knives in their free time.”

No matter how upset you were with him earlier, there was no way that you would walk into a haunted house without listening to the plan first. The two of you walked straight up the wooden stairs as planned, each step creaking and protesting under your combined weight. Following Leonard’s directions to the bedroom, you were continuing down the hallway before Anthony caught your wrist.

“Do you hear that?”

You furrowed your brows. It was completely silent, save for the sound of your own breathing. You were about to respond when you heard it, too.

Crying. No, not crying. Wailing. Quiet gut wrenching sobs, that you could hear as loud as day, now.

But, you couldn’t really hear it. You could feel it. It was like the crying was coming from the walls, from the ground, and from all around you.

“You ready?”

He nodded and drew his rapier as you closed your eyes. You gingerly placed your hand on the wall, and sensed.

Using Touch felt like being suspended in open air.

It was like you were nowhere, but everywhere at the same time. After you came into contact with the wall, you began to see things. Flickers of the Moores’ life here. Them sharing a romantic dinner over the kitchen table. Them laughing in the living room. As you began to continue down the hallway, you could see more. The two of them fighting in the doorway, them kissing in front of the Christmas tree.

The source was definitely in the bedroom.

You opened your eyes.

Anthony was still behind you, and his sword shined under the fluorescents. You drew yours as well before nodding at their bedroom door. After a silent count of three, you pushed it open quietly.

The bedroom was in about the same state as the kitchen. One of the red curtains lay in a heap on the floor, clearly torn off. The sheets were unmade on the bed, and you could smell it before you saw it. Blood. Using the end of your weapon, you lifted the blanket off the bed. On the right side, a dark red puddle was soaked into the mattress. You covered up the stain, not wanting to look at it anymore.

The house was starting to get cold. A shiver went down your spine; she was near. You could feel Anthony’s warmth from behind you as you both dropped the kits so he could prepare the chains.

You moved towards the bedside table on the right, the net in hand. The top of it was completely empty, except for a single framed picture of Leonard and Elizabeth’s wedding day. She looked absolutely gorgeous in her white wedding dress, and her and her new husband were sharing a smile so full of love. Both of them deserved better.

Suddenly, the lights flickered before the room was plunged into total darkness. The new moon in the sky did nothing to help your case, and you and Anthony reached to turn on your torches.

“Looks like Lizzie doesn’t like us looking through her stuff,” he mused. “We have to go faster.”

“No, really?” you couldn’t help but fire back.

You gripped the handle of the top drawer and tugged it open. It was neat and ordered, totally unlike the rest of the house. You could feel the energy radiating out of the drawer, a pull strong enough that it felt like you were being drawn into it.

“Lockwood, the source, it’s… it’s definitely in here.”

“Good, keep looking.”

He was crouched down, lining the salt up in a circle around the both of you.

You began to reach for the trinkets inside the drawer, feeling the emotions and memories tied to each one. There was a wide range of them, some sad, but most were happy. You had touched her diary, a necklace, and a ticket to a carnival when you saw it. A box, tucked into the very back of the drawer. You reached for it, and brought it into the light of your torch. When you popped the top open, there sat a ring in the middle. A gorgeous diamond was embedded in the center of the box, and it seemed to shine even under the harsh light of your flashlight. It was beautiful. And then it was like the box was on fire.

You cursed, wildly, clutching your hand as you staggered back. It was like you were drunk. Unable to control your limbs, you flailed like a baby deer. You ended up on your back a few feet away from the drawer, your palm burning like somebody had pressed it to the inside of an oven.

Your vision was swimming in and out, and you were vaguely able to make out Anthony’s panicked face in front of you. He stepped out of the circle. Why did he step out of the circle? Your fading vision turned into black. Maybe you had passed out. But you could hear Anthony calling your name, and you could definitely feel the way your hand was aflame, the pain completely unbearable.

“Anthony… Anthony, I can’t see. It hurts. It hurts so bad.”

You could feel yourself wave your burning hand in front of your face, and fear gripped you by the throat. It was taking so much effort to breathe in and out. You couldn’t see anything. You reached out with your good hand and felt for him. Felt for anything. But your sense of Touch felt dialed up to one hundred. Touching the floor made you see nothing but Elizabeth slow dancing with Leonard here. Touching the wall behind you gave you a rush of euphoria, the memory of the couple painting their house together for the first time.

You could hear Anthony’s voice next to your ear. “I know, I know it hurts, but I need you to move. I’m sorry, I know.”

You could feel his quick breathing on your back as he attempted to control your limp body long enough to pull you to safety.

He dropped you somewhere on the floor, a bit roughly. You knew the circle was not intact, The chain and salt who knows where, now.

You could vaguely register yourself mumbling. Whether it was coherent or whether it was nonsense, you didn’t know. The overstimulation of the room didn’t let you think, your brain overloaded with nothing but memories and voices and feelings.

You felt hands on your face. You started to sweat. Fight-or-flight mode kicked in, and you decided to fight. You swung your fists at nothing, crying out in fear the entire time. Your hands were caught with ease, but then you heard his voice.

“It’s me, it’s Anthony, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you need to tell me where the source is, please.”

Calm flooded through you at the sound of his familiar voice. The recognizable way his words echoed in your ears gave you something to hold onto. You felt yourself grounded immediately.

“The… the box, there’s a… there’s a ring inside,” you managed to get out. But you could feel the way his hands slipped from his face and knew.

Elizabeth was here.

Your heart rate began to pick up. Anthony wouldn’t be able to fight her off and secure the source at the same time. You felt panic surge through you, the thought of your best friend fighting a Type Two alone, the thought of your best friend Ghost Locked. The thought of your best friend dead. The sounds of the shrieking ghost faded to the background, and you began to feel around the floor.

To save your best friend, you would have to push all of it away. You had to put your trust in Anthony to do his job, and get yourself to do yours. You fought Elizabeth’s memories that were rising to the surface, suppressing them completely. You blocked off every single thought and focused only on the mission before you.

Secure the source.

You shut your eyes and felt. You felt for the strength that coursed through you when you briefly touched the ring, and trusted your body to move. Your hand knocked against something hard, and you felt the unbearable warmth surround you again. Gritting your teeth, you picked it up one last time. White hot pain seared through you again, and you wanted nothing more than to drop the box. The ground shook with vibrations and his footsteps.

Anthony. You had to do this for Anthony.

If you had dropped the net near the bed it couldn’t be far now. You blindly reached out towards the vague area you thought it to be in, your arm going numb due to the sheer pain you were in. Your knee snagged on something, and you felt relief course through you. The net. You dropped the box on top of it and wrapped it clumsily, your arms shaking, and your right hand unable to move.

Then it was silent.

“Anthony?” you nearly sobbed.

Dread coursed through you.

No.

No, no, no, no.

You couldn’t hear yourself.

You cleared your throat and tried again.

“Anthony?” you yelled, screaming this time, uncaring of the poor, sweet neighbors nearby. Yet still you heard nothing. You put your hand to your heart and could feel it hammering wildly against your chest. You were alive. You were breathing, although unsteadily.

But was he?

Your unsteady breathing became hyperventilation.

You felt around blindly, moving further away from the bed and deeper into the room. Another wave of nausea hit you. It was stronger this time.

“Anthony, please.” You were begging now, begging for something. Anything. You could feel your mouth make the sounds but nothing was coming out. Your hands raked through your hair, tugging at the roots. You couldn’t hear and you couldn’t see, but you could feel. And you felt awful. Your body gave out a few feet from the door.

You felt warm, all of a sudden. Not warm like the heat of the source. But warm like falling asleep at the kitchen table and waking up with a blanket around you. Warm like wearing someone else’s jacket after you refused to bring one. Warm like Anthony. You wondered if this was what dying felt like. You stopped fighting.

Hands. Hands were on your back, you could feel them wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you up. Hands wrapping around your front, hands gripping your face. Your head lolled forward into something hard.

Cinnamon.

You smelled cinnamon.

You hiccuped.

“Anthony?” You tried again, knowing you would not hear it.

A hand sliding to the back of your head. Pulling you towards something warm and firm. A body. His body.

Cinnamon.

You were safe.

And you felt yourself slip out of consciousness.

—

You woke up seeing and hearing more than you would have liked.

Bright lights shone through your eyelids, and the steady beeping of monitors was quiet next to you. Your fingers twitched and the sound of a chair scraping the floor nearly exploded your ear drums. Reluctantly prying your eyes open, you were met with Lucy’s pretty face. Her hair was unbrushed and her bangs were pushed out of her face. Her jaw was hung open, her eyes wide as if she had just seen a ghost.

Ha.

“Luce-”

She surged forward to capture you in the tightest hug you’ve ever been a part of.

“You had us worried sick,” she sobbed into your hair. “Never do that again, do you understand?”

“I’ll try not to,” you whispered, not used to the sound of your voice again.

You pulled back far enough so you could give her a wet kiss on her cheek before she wrapped you in her arms again.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. I can’t believe you almost left me alone.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You smiled into each other's necks.

“I have to go tell Lockwood,” she murmured, reluctantly pulling back from the hug. “He’s been going insane.”

You nearly jolted up at the news.

“Is he alright?”

She nodded, pressing the button to call for a nurse.

“Physically, he’s all good. He had to get stitches on his arm and has a couple of bruises, but he was out of the hospital a week ago. Didn’t even have to stay the night.”

“A week ago?”

You sat back against your pillows, letting it sink in. You had lost consciousness for a week. Missed out on an entire week of your life.

Lucy nodded, before reaching for your left hand. A quick glance to your right one showed a thick layer of bandages over your palm, where you had held the box.

“We’ve had to wrestle Lockwood out of your room a few times. He’s barely been eating and sleeping, but seeing you awake will hopefully soothe his state of mind.”

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. Poor Anthony, he had to deal with you in hysterics and the aftermath of the job. The door opening caused you and Lucy to look up, but seeing a doctor in the doorway instead of your best friend made you slouch.

“Don’t look so happy to see her,” teased Lucy, before she slipped from the room.

Dr. Anderson was very sweet. She checked you over and found everything to be perfectly fine, and even let George into the room when she saw him sitting outside. He brought you a plate of his best shirini morabai and updated you on everything that went on in the week you were gone.

Lockwood had taken to sitting by your bedside during every minute of visiting hour. It was quiet at Portland Row without you. Lockwood was apparently unbearable to be around, sleep deprivation and stress turning him sour. He would snap at people when they would do something as small as breathe too loudly or he would go silent altogether. Today was one of the rare days where the two of them could convince him to go home and function normally for a few hours before returning to the sterility of the hospital. Lucy went back to Portland Row to pick him up and would be back any minute now.

You were letting George take the last pastry when the door nearly slammed off its hinges. George stood up abruptly, getting ready to aim his plate at any violent attacker who stepped in.

It was only Lockwood.

You took him in for a second. His hair was disheveled and his tie hung loosely off his neck. His jacket was missing completely, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was cold. The dark circles that you had worked so hard to get rid of were back. Your feet were moving before your mind could tell them to, and you were yanking wires out of your arm.

You could hear George say, “You really shouldn’t have done that,” but you didn’t care.

Anthony was here. He was alive. And he was right in front of you.

You stood on unstable feet, and your first steps had your knees buckling. But it didn’t matter, because he had already crossed the room and swept you into his arms. He was warm.

“You’re… You’re okay,” he mumbled shakily into your skin. The two words took an insane amount of effort for him to choke out. The next four words came easier.

“You’re my best friend.”

You pressed a kiss to his chest, rattled by the sheer amount of love you had for him. “You’re mine too.”

Anthony’s next three words came even easier.

“I love you.”

It felt like someone had taken a vacuum and sucked all of the air out of the room.

“You what?” You pulled away from him, the shock painted all over your face. Your hands interlocked around his neck to steady yourself. You wondered if you were going to pass out again.

“I love you,” he repeated, his voice steady. His hands slid down your back and went up to cup your face again and again, as if he needed proof you were real.

“I nearly lost you a week ago and never got the chance to say it. So, I’m telling you now.” He let out a deep breath before knocking his forehead against yours. “I love you. And I couldn’t sit here for another moment without you knowing.”

You laughed. Anthony’s heart did a triathlon in his chest.

“I love you too. I think I have for a while now. It was true five years ago and it’ll be true for the rest of my life,” you said, beaming directly at him.

He gave you a real, golden, and shining, Anthony Lockwood smile before leaning down and kissing you.

He smelled like cinnamon.

And everything was okay.

2K notes · View notes

bookishdream · 11 months

Text

it’s never too late (to come back to my side)

series masterlist

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem reader

summary: lockwood needs your help after pushing you away. chaos (and kissing) and making up (and making out) ensue.

content: fluff and angst, childhood best friends to lovers, bit of fake dating, kissing as a distraction trope

title from dorothea by taylor swift

main series

one 4.8k

george tells lucy the story of your friendship

two 5.2k

you find your way back home

three 6.6k

confrontation and a heart to heart

finale 11.2k

a lifetime of pining comes to a close

alternate universe

some and now none of you 6.1k

you leave. again.

114 notes · View notes

bookishdream · 11 months

Note

sarah cameron x fem!reader where reader is a pogue but works as a waitress in a fancy restaurant that sarah dines at and she develops a crush on the reader before becoming a pogue

Midsummer Shenanigans

Request: sarah cameron x fem!reader where reader is a pogue but works as a waitress in a fancy restaurant that sarah dines at and she develops a crush on the reader before becoming a pogue

Hi! This is my first time writing for Sarah. Bear with me, I'm still getting used to writing her character, so I wouldn’t say this is my best work. But this request is cute, so I had to write it. I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, vague mention of jj’s abuse, suggestive content, let me know if i missed anything)

—

You were laying on a towel, one arm covering your eyes, the other laying in the sand. You could have laid there all day, if your alarm hadn’t gone off just as you had gotten comfortable. You reached for your phone, silencing it.

You sat up on your elbows, looking around at your friends. “JJ, I will pay you to go kill my manager so I don’t have to go into work today.”

JJ sat up as well, squinting at the sun in his eyes. “How much?”

“Hmm, like….twenty bucks?”

He let out a laugh, laying back down in the sand. “No deal, dude. No deal.”

You groaned, finally getting up and brushing the sand off your clothes. “John B, will you give me a ride to work? Please?”

He looked up at you and shook his head, before placing his hat over his face. You whined, bending down to knock it off. He looked up at you again, far more annoyed this time.

“Please? You have to go to work, too. Come on, it’s literally on your way, and otherwise I’ll be biking there. I’ll give you twenty bucks.”

“Those were my twenty bucks!” JJ said, sitting up.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. “Not anymore. You won’t kill my boss for me. It’s John B’s now.”

“Fine,” John B groaned, reaching for your hand. “Help me up.”

“Thank you,” you sighed in relief, hoisting him up. “Bye, guys.”

You got a series of waves and goodbyes, before you turned to walk back up the beach. You loaded up into the Twinkie, and John B swung you by your house so you could quickly change into your uniform, before taking you to work.

You groaned as he parked, and he sighed, looking out at the Marina. You worked at the nice restaurant at the country club by the Marina, and John B worked on the boats there.

Neither of you wanted to work today, and it took everything in you to pull yourself out of his van.

You trudged into work, clocking in. You had barely even put your things down and put on your apron when the hostess came into the back of the kitchen.

“Hey Y/N, you’ve just been sat. Table 28, two top.”

You sighed and nodded. “Thanks, I’ll be right out.”

You grabbed a pad and paper, tucking it into your apron. You filled two glasses with ice water, placing them on a tray before leaving the kitchen and going to the table. You balanced the tray on one hand, setting the glasses down with the other.

“Hello, my name is Y/N, I’ll be your server today. Can I get you started with anything else to drink?”

“Hey, Y/N,” you heard, and you looked up to see none other than Sarah Cameron, and her sister.

You had known Sarah your whole life. Sarah Cameron, Kook Princess. You were friends when you were younger, always seeing each other at the beach or the Boneyard. But as you got older, you grew apart. You fell in with the Pogues, and she fell in with the Kooks.

It didn’t bother you, not really.

You had always known you weren’t the same type of person, and you knew she wasn’t going to be your friend forever. But you couldn’t help but feel jealousy when you looked at her. She had enough money to do whatever she wanted. She didn’t have to work for her money, or apply for shitty jobs if she wanted to be able to buy the things she wanted. She was going to get into any college she wanted, and be able to go wherever she wanted. It just wasn’t fair.

What you didn’t know was that she felt the same jealousy as you. For different reasons, of course.

She had money, yes. But you had family. You belonged somewhere, you had friends who would take a bullet for you if need be. You chose your family, you made your own way. All the money in the world couldn’t buy that kind of love. She’d do anything to have people in her life like that.

“Hey, Sarah,” you finally said, giving her a small smile. “Hey, Wheezie. Girls day?”

“Sarah promised to go to our Dad’s Midsummer party this weekend, and she needed a new dress. We went shopping so I could help her pick one.”

“Sounds like fun,” you grinned. “I think Kiara is going, her parents are making her. Pope’s Dad is catering, and I’m on staff as a waitress. So, I guess I’ll see you there.”

Sarah tried her best to hide her smile at your words, changing the subject. “What time do you get off? May we could hang out?”

“Uh…,” you hummed, raising a brow at her question. “Yeah, yeah sure. I get off at eight. Is that alright?”

Sarah nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be back to come get you if that’s cool?”

“Yeah, that’s good,” you nodded, pulling out your pen and pad. “Until then, what can I get started for you?”

—

You had texted John B right after Sarah and Wheezie left, letting him know that you didn’t need him to drop you off at home. He had lots of questions, and you promised to explain it all to him later.

You thought about your interaction with Sarah for the rest of your shift.

She had left you quite the tip, and gave you a shy smile when she left, which was very unlike her. You hadn’t known her to be shy around anyone, let alone you. You couldn’t quite tell what it was that was making her act different.

At the end of your shift, you clocked out, taking a step outside. Sarah was sitting on the hood of her car, parked in the lot just outside the back door.

She straightened up as she saw you, swinging her legs out in front of her. “Hey.”

“Hey. Have you been waiting long?”

She shook her head. “A few minutes, don’t worry about it.”

You awkwardly approached, leaning against the hood of her car. “I’m sorry to ask, but you’re driving me home, right? Because I told John B he could go home, and he’s definitely not gonna come back and get me.”

“Yeah, I’ll take you home,” she chuckled, jumping down from the hood. “Do you still live in the same place?”

You nodded, and she unlocked her car, motioning for you to climb in. You tried to ignore how weird it was that you were climbing into Sarah Cameron’s car, settling yourself in the passenger seat.

She pulled out of the parking lot and drove slowly to give herself more time. Not that she had to, your house was miles away on the other side of the island away from the Marina.

You sat in awkward silence, before she finally broke it.

“Have a good shift?”

“You tipped the best,” you laughed, smiling over at her. “You’d be surprised how cheap the Kooks can be.”

“Damn, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said, leaning back into your seat. “So, what’s up? How have you been? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah…sorry about that,” Sarah said, giving you a guilty look out of the corner of her eye. You didn’t acknowledge it.

“I know you’re busy, don’t worry about it. Excited for your Dad’s thing this weekend?”

“Not even a little bit,” she sighed, taking a right down a side street.

You furrowed your brows, looking around. “Uh, I think you went the wrong way. You should have gone left back there.”

“I know where you live, Y/N. We’re taking the long way.”

“Why?”

She shrugged her shoulders, turning the radio down so she could hear you clearer. “I don’t want to go home just yet.”

“Alright,” you nodded, changing the subject. “How was your day?”

“It was alright, I guess. Took Wheezie to the mainland, got a new dress. Haven’t done much, honestly. What about you, how was your day?”

You smiled at the thought of your day, at least before you had to go to work. It was peaceful, and you were with friends.

“My day was good. I went to the beach with a few friends. Did lose twenty bucks, though. I made John B drive me and had to pay the price. I tried to get JJ to take out my boss for me so I wouldn’t have to go to work, but he wouldn’t go for it.”

Sarah let out a laugh, smiling wide. “The restaurant sucks, then?”

“Easily the worst job I’ve ever had. Beats working on the boats though, and sometimes it’s good money. Plus I eat dinner for free, so I can’t complain about that.”

Sarah nodded, turning down your street. “Any plans for college?”

“Not even a little bit,” you scoffed, grinning over at her. “I’m going day by day at this point. What about you?”

Her voice was quieter when she answered you, making you turn to face her. “My Dad wants me to go where he did, it’s like a tradition in the family. I’m not sure, though. It’s not really for me.”

“That’s alright. You’ve got plenty of time to figure it out. And you don’t have to follow what your Dad did. It’s your life, not his.”

“Yeah, well he’s the one paying for it. So it kinda is his,” she said, pulling up to the outside of your house.

As she turned the car off, you turned to her, giving her a sympathetic smile.

“It may be his money, but it is your life. Don’t do anything to make someone else happy. If you’re not comfortable with it, don’t do it. There’s nothing wrong with doing something different than your family does.”

Sarah sighed, leaning back in her seat. “My Dad expects so much out of me. He thinks Rafe has wasted his opportunities, and wants me to be smarter than that.”

“I’m glad I’m not a Kook,” you laughed, breaking the tension enough to get her to smile. “Seems like a lot of pressure, having all that money and not knowing what to do with it. I may be broke, but it’s simple. I like simple.”

“Me too,” she agreed. She turned away from you, fiddling with her hands in her lap.

You cleared your throat, reaching for the door handle. “Thanks for driving me. See you this weekend? I’ll be in my uniform, easy to spot.”

Sarah smiled, nodding. “I’ll see you then.”

—

That night, John B and JJ stopped by your house. You climbed into the Twinkie, sitting it in while parked in your driveway.

JJ was sitting across from you while giving you a surprised look. “Sarah Cameron? Like, Kook Princess Sarah Cameron?”

“I know, it was insane,” you said, looking between John B and JJ as they stared at you in disbelief. “She drove me home. I haven’t spoken to her in over a year, and she offered to drive me home.”

John B scoffed, a grin on his face. “And I thought hidden treasure was the craziest thing that was gonna happen to us this week.”

“Is she still a bitch?” JJ asked, making you shove his shoulder.

“Stop it,” you glared. “She’s only a bitch to you because you give her a reason to be. She was really different from what I remember her being.”

“Does she know she’s sitting on a goldmine?” John B asked.

You nearly rolled your eyes at his question. “Do you really think that if Ward Cameron knew there was gold on the island, he’d just let it sit there?”

“I still think that’s where the gold is. I don’t know where else it would be. It’s not on the wreck, so it’s on the island. Do you think you could get her to give you a map of Tannyhill?”

“Yeah, John B,” JJ scoffed, clapping his hand on John B’s shoulder. “Sarah is totally gonna give Y/N a map of her property without any explanation. Good thinking, man.”

“At least I’m coming up with ideas.”

“Because your ideas have worked so well so fa—“

“Stop it!” You scolded them, interrupting their bickering. “Neither of you are helping. I’m having a crisis, here! Are either of you gonna help me out, or should I just go back inside?”

John B clapped his hands together, turning to you. “If I’m right, we need that map. You need to ask Sarah about it next time you see her. Tell her it’s for a research project or something.”

“I’m helping Pope with Midsummers this weekend. I could ask her for it then?”

JJ nodded in agreement, but looked unsure. “Don’t you think she’ll ask questions? We’re not telling her about the gold, she’ll just tell Ward.”

You shook your head, disagreeing.

“I don’t think so. She was talking about him earlier like they don’t see eye to eye on most things. I don’t think she cares about money like he does. If she asks questions, I think I should answer some of them.”

“No way,” JJ retorted, looking at you with wide eyes. “I don’t trust her. You see who she hangs out with, I’m not losing our chance at getting the gold to a bunch of fucking Kooks.”

“No offense JJ, but you’re not the one who looked through those archives with me. I trust Y/N. I think we should let her tell Sarah whatever she thinks is necessary.”

JJ groaned, looking between the two of you. Knowing it was a losing battle, he sighed, relenting.

“Fine. But if she fucks this up for us, you two get to be the ones to tell Kie and Pope why they’ll be broke for the rest of their lives.”

You laughed, grinning. “Deal.”

—

The next morning, you clocked into work for the opening shift.

It would be a quick shift, much shorter than your one the previous evening, and you were excited to get it over with. It was your last shift of the week, and you weren’t scheduled again until Midsummers.

You only had an hour left in your shift, when the hostess came back into the kitchen while you were talking to the chef.

“Someone asked for you by name, Y/N. One top, table 17.”

You nodded, grabbing everything you needed and going to the table. You stopped in your tracks when you saw Sarah, sitting alone on her phone. You cleared your throat as you approached, setting down a glass.

“You’re back. The food is not that good here, I think you’re getting ripped off.”

Sarah smiled, giving you a sheepish look. “I knew you were working today, figured I’d come say hello.”

“Were you in the neighborhood?”

She shook her head, tapping her fingers on the table. You nodded, grinning when you could see a slight flush creep up onto her cheeks.

“I could just give you my number, you know. You don’t have to drive all the way over here to say hello.”

“Well, I wanted to see you, too,” she said, making you raise a brow. “Are you busy today? After work, I mean.”

“I’m going to Pope’s later to help him and his Dad make sure everything is ready for tomorrow. But that’s not till later. Why?”

She was the most shy you had ever seen her, nearly stuttering with her reply. “Uh…would you maybe wanna hang out again? Like actually, this time.”

You remembered the map of Tannyhill you needed, deciding it was best to say yes. And, you were fascinated as to why Sarah was suddenly interested in you again after all this time. It was better to kill two birds with one stone.

“Sure, I’m off in an hour. What do you wanna do?”

She smiled, shrugging. “I didn’t really think that far. Boat? Beach?”

“Anywhere your friends aren’t,” you grinned, only half joking. Sarah playfully smacked your arm, though she was laughing, too.

“I’m with you on that one.”

“Trouble in paradise?” You asked, leaning onto the table. “Haven’t seen you with Topper or anyone in a while.”

“Yeah, we aren’t really talking right now. I’m not talking to any of them, really.”

You raised a brow. “No? Why’s that?”

“I’ll tell you when your shift is over,” she grinned, shooing you away from the table.

—

You settled on the beach, swinging by Sarah’s house first so she could grab things to bring. You awkwardly stepped into her house, having not been there since you were a kid when she had a birthday party.

It was just as lavish as you remembered it.

“I forgot you live in a castle,” you said, climbing the stairs to her room.

“You may address me as Your Highness.”

You dramatically bowed, motioning for her to walk in front of you. She curtsied, continuing to her room. As you passed by a few doors, Rafe stepped out of his room.

“What do we have here? Y/N! Where are the rest of your bum friends?”

You groaned, turning around to face him. “Clearly not wanting to be caught within a mile of you, Rafe.”

He chuckled, standing close enough that he towered over you. “I’d check her pockets before you leave, Sarah. Who knows what she might try and steal?”

“Piss off, Rafe,” you said, not backing down. He grinned wider, happy to have gotten a reaction out of you. He held his hands up in surrender, backing into his room.

“Nice to see you, Y/N. I’ll make sure to grab a drink off you at Midsummers, alright?”

Sarah grabbed your wrist, tugging you along with her. “Leave her alone, Rafe. Go bother someone else.”

“It’s fine,” you muttered, following her into her room. “He doesn’t bother me.”

“He still shouldn’t talk to you like that.”

You shrugged, watching as she packed a bag for the beach. “I’m used to it, I don’t care. I’m happy with who I am. Me and my bum friends.”

Sarah chuckled, shuffling around her room as she grabbed her things. “I like your bum friends.”

“Even JJ?”

“Even JJ…sometimes.”

—

You set up an area in the sand, collapsing with a dramatic sigh onto your towel. “It’s so fucking hot.”

“You’re the one who decided on the beach,” she grinned, settling herself next to you as she took off her shirt.

You took in her appearance, smiling when she looked over at you with a shy smile.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head. She pressed you further, turning over onto her stomach as she spoke.

“Oh, come on. You’re staring at me, so spill. What’s up?”

You smiled, relenting. “You just look really pretty. You are really pretty, but you don’t need me to tell you that.”

She flushed, tucking her face into her arm as she turned her head away from you. You laughed, leaning back to settle on your elbows as you looked over at her.

“What’s that reaction? Are you telling me Topper doesn’t tell you you’re pretty?”

“He does,” she mumbled, laying her cheek on her forearm. “But not like you do. He normally says it when he wants something.”

“You’re beautiful, Sarah,” you frowned, fully laying back and rolling over so your face was parallel with hers. “Fuck him.”

Sarah let out a laugh, making you smile.

“So, are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you and your friends? I haven’t seen you with them when they come into the restaurant.”

She sighed, moving to sit up. It took her a while to speak. “They’re just…not nice.”

You burst out laughing, sitting up with her. “Well I could have told you that.”

“I’m serious,” she giggled. “I know they’re shit to you and your friends, but they’re not always like that. At least that’s what I used to think. I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Do you have anyone close to talk to?”

She shrugged. “Wheezie.”

“You need more than your little sister, Sarah. They can’t all be assholes, there’s gotta be someone, right?”

“That’s easy for you to say. All your friends are nice. I think JJ would literally take a bullet for you.”

“He probably would,” you smiled, nodding. “He’s an idiot. But I love them to death, I’d do the same for any one of them.”

“I want that,” she murmured.

You sighed, watching her frown. You didn’t know why, but you hated seeing her upset. You hadn’t talked to her in ages, and yet you cared enough to want to make her smile.

“Your friends are assholes, you’re right about that. We’ll just have to get you some new ones.”

“Like who…you? Your friends? I'd be lucky to have you, there’s no way the rest of them would be game.”

“I don’t know about that,” you shrugged. “I talked to John B and JJ last night. They were surprised we talked, but didn’t seem too shocked by the idea.”

“Oh, god. What did you tell them about me?”

“Just that you were different than I remembered,” you said, smiling when she gave you an insecure look. “A good different.”

“Are they alright with me hanging out with you?”

You grinned. “It’s not really their choice, is it? I’m a big girl, they can trust me to make semi-decent decisions for myself.”

She nodded, fiddling with her hands in her lap. “Do you think they’d ever let me hang out? Like with the group?”

“I think I could convince them, yeah. They’re stubborn, but I tend to get my way. At least with the boys, they know the girls are using their heads a little more. Kiara would be the hardest. But she loves me, I’m sure I could convince her, too.”

“They sound really nice. Kinda wish I went your way instead of my way in school.”

“I think you still could,” you offered, making her raise a brow.

“Why?”

This was it.

This was your moment. The gold was on the line, and you needed the help. The Pogues couldn’t do it alone, and Sarah could be really helpful. If she could get a map of Tannyhill, that could solidify your chance at getting the gold.

Maybe to go full Kook, you needed the Kook Princess.

“Alright, I’m gonna tell you something. But you have to promise not to tell anyone, and I’m so serious about that. Not Topper, or your friends, or your family. Not your Dad. Especially not your Dad.”

She looked at you through furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. “What, did y’all kill someone or something? Rob a bank?”

“It’s better than robbing a bank.”

You took a breath, telling her the full story. From John B’s dad, to the wreck, to the Royal Merchant. Everything that had happened to you and the Pogue’s in the last few days, you told her.

“And if you tell anyone, JJ is gonna kill me. Please don’t tell anyone.”

She shook her head, looking at you in disbelief. “I don’t think anyone would believe me if I told them anyway. You really think there’s gold on the island?”

“I don’t think it, I know it,” you said confidently. “And John B thinks it’s on Tannyhill. Do you think you could get a map of Tannyhill? Like a blueprint of its original construction?”

“My Dad has a ton of stuff in his office about Tannyhill. He probably has one.”

“Do you think you could find it by Midsummers? Your Dad will be distracted, you could sneak in. We just need a photo of it, you don’t even have to take it.”

Sarah nodded, and you felt like you could throw up from excitement. “Yeah, I think I could get it. I’ll text you when I find it.”

You stood up, offering your hands to her so you could pull her up, too.

“Are you serious? Oh my god, is this actually going to work?”

“Hold on,” she said, stopping you from celebrating too much. “You’re not gonna ditch me after I find it, right? I know I don’t need the gold, but you’re not all gonna just leave me alone and go off with the map, right?”

You threw your arms around her neck as you laughed, and she let out a sound of surprise, letting her arms settle around your waist.

“Sarah, if you’re the reason we find the gold, they’ll love you forever. Of course you’re coming with us. I’ll keep everyone in line.”

She nodded into your shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief. “Good.”

—

The next day came, and Midsummers had finally arrived.

John B, called you that afternoon, letting you know that JJ had been bailed out of jail. Apparently during your last few shifts at work, your friends had failed to fill you in on the fact that your best friend had actually landed himself in jail.

You made a mental note to find him later, wanting to make sure he was alright.

You arrived just as the party was starting, in your fanciest uniform. You helped Pope and his Dad unload their truck, before moving to the bar. You were waitressing for the night, taking drink orders and walking around with trays of champagne.

When Kiara showed up, you rushed over to her. “Thank god. If I hear one more Kook bark an order at me, I’m gonna lose my mind. Quick, pretend like you’re asking me for a drink.”

“Actually, I could use one,” she grinned.

“Shut up,” you said, shoving her shoulder as you walked back to the bar. “You look really nice, by the way!”

You mostly stuck around Pope most of the night, ferrying drinks back and forth. When the Cameron’s showed up, you nearly dropped your tray at the sight of Sarah.

“There’s no way I just watched you stumble over Sarah Cameron,” Pope teased, steadying your tray for you.

“Shut up, Pope. I saw you making eyes at Kie earlier. At least I’m not macking on another Pogue.”

“Alright, touché. You got me there,” Pope grinned, raising his hands in surrender, before his smile fell. “Uh, a bit of a situation going on over there.”

You turned to look at where he was pointing, finding Topper holding onto Sarah’s wrist. You narrowed your eyes, and Pope chuckled while he watched you grip your tray. Topper led her to the porch on the side of the house, and you couldn’t stop yourself from moving.

As you approached, you could hear him interrogating her. You bit your tongue, clearing your throat.

“Anyone want a drink?”

They both turned at the sound of your voice, and Sarah smiled as she recognized you.

“No, we’re good—“

“Yes! I’ll take one,” Sarah said, gladly accepting a drink from your tray. “Do me a favor and hide me while I drink this, I don’t want my Dad to see.”

You nodded, and she moved to stand between you and the porch column. As she sucked her drink down, you smirked over at Topper, who didn’t look the slightest bit pleased.

“Topper.”

“Y/N.”

“Having fun?” You asked, taking a step back closer to Sarah.

He rolled his eyes, moving to head back over to his friends. “I was until now. I’ll catch you later, Sarah.”

She gave him a thumbs up, nodding while she finished off her glass. The second he was out of earshot, you burst out laughing, taking her empty glass.

“Thank you,” she sighed in relief.

“He really is a dick, huh?”

She nodded, not denying it. You lowered your voice, leaning in. “You look stunning, if that wasn’t obvious.”

Sarah blushed, slightly fidgeting, which only made you smile wider. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome. Did you find the map?”

“My Dad caught me in his office before I could take a photo of it. But I know where it is.”

You nearly squealed with excitement, wishing you could hug her. If only you weren’t holding the tray.

“You’re the best, holy shit! Alright, let’s just play it cool tonight. John B and JJ are on their way, they’re my ride out of here. I’ll let you know what’s going on later, alright? Go, have fun. Come get me if Topper is being an asshole, I’ll handle him…or I’ll get him really drunk, either option works for me. See you soon?”

She nodded, smiling, and you turned to head back to the bar. You dropped off your empty glasses, scanning the crowd for Kiara. Suddenly, JJ walked past you in a waiter's uniform, a tray in his hands.

You scurried after him, snatching the tray from his grip. “JJ? What the fuck are you doing?”

“Being your backup,” he smiled, pointing between your two uniforms. “We’re matching.”

You scanned his face as you took in the new bruises and cuts, feeling a pit settle in your stomach. He must have realized what was going on in your mind, shrugging his shoulders.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m alright.”

You threw your arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tight to you. He smiled into your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently rocking you back and forth.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” you said, pulling back to shove his shoulder. “Don’t you ever get arrested without me again. I’ll kick your ass, I swear to god.”

He let out a chuckle, bringing his hand up to salute you. “Yes ma’am. Now, what do you need me for?”

“Just stay out of trouble. Find everyone. Tell Pope and Kie we’re back in the G-game.”

His eyes widened as he looked at you, speaking in a hushed whisper. “You got the map?”

“No, but Sarah knows where it is….also, I may have told her more than I should have.”

“Y/N!”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, shrugging your shoulders. “I couldn’t help it. She’s very pursuasive.”

JJ raised a brow, smirking as you felt the heat creep up to your cheeks. “Y/N? Are you going soft for Sarah Cameron?”

“JJ, shut up. I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“Well, you’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that. At least you have one thing going for you.”

You rolled your eyes, groaning. “I promise to give you all the details later, just trust me right now. Tell everyone what’s going on, and let’s get out of here as soon as we can.”

“What about Sarah?”

You sighed in frustration, shaking your head. “I don’t know, I haven’t thought that far ahead. Leave her to me, just tell everyone else to be ready.”

“If she fucks this up for us—”

“She won’t! At least, I think she won’t. Tell you what. If she does, I’ll fork over that twenty bucks. But if you trust me on this, I think we’ll be getting a lot more than that. Alright?”

He nodded, relenting. “Alright. I’m trusting you on this. I’ve got them, you’ve got her. Go, meet me back out here in a few.”

—

In just a few minutes, JJ had managed to cause a scene. It couldn’t have even been five minutes since you had left to look for Sarah, before he was running out the door with security on his tail.

Kiara tried to stand up for him, telling security that he was invited, but they wouldn’t let him go.

JJ shoved the guard off of him, headed towards the boat. “Mandatory power hour at Rixton’s, Kie. Pope, you as well, all right? Rixton’s Cove. Let’s roll.”

He scanned the crowd for you, grinning when he landed on your less than amused face. “Y/N! Decision time, baby. Let’s go!”

“Shit,” you muttered, dropping your tray as you started running through the crowd. “Alright, fuck it!”

It was chaos.

John B and JJ running one way, Kiara following after them. Pope followed shortly after, and you moved to follow them, shrugging your way through the sea of people. Just as you almost broke through the crowd, Sarah stepped into your path.

It was a split second decision, and you had no time left to decide whether you were making a mistake or not. You grabbed her hand, intertwining your fingers with hers.

“I want you to come with me.”

“What?”

You squeezed her hand, tugging her closer. “Come with me. We’re getting this gold, and I want you to do it with us. Fuck your friends, fuck your family, just come with us. We can figure the rest of it out later.”

You tried to tug her with you, but she held her ground.

You looked between her and your friends who were waiting for you, all of whom were looking at you like a deer caught in headlights.

Except for JJ…he was whooping like a maniac, cheering you on.

“We?” She asked, looking at you with wide eyes. “There’s a we?”

You smiled, feeling your heart warm at her hopeful tone. You nodded, running your thumb along the back of her hand.

“There is if you want there to be…and I want there to be.”

She smiled, squeezing your hand tight. “Are we doing this?”

You turned to your friends, who were waiting for you with an expectant look. As security closed in on you, you yelled out to them.

“What do you guys think? Do we need a Kook? I think we need a Kook.”

JJ grinned, motioning for you to follow. “Executive decision, I’m calling it! There’s too many Pogues here. We need a Kook!”

You grinned, tugging Sarah with you. You laughed as she tried to run in her heels, and you tried your best to hold her steady as you took off after your friends.

“No time to explain, I’ll tell you later!” You said, running past them to the boat with Sarah in tow. “Come on!”

You couldn’t hold your laughter in as they all shrugged in agreement, following after you. You stepped into the HMS Pogue, turning around once inside. You offered your hand to Sarah, helping her into the boat.

“Your Highness,” you bowed. “We’re gonna have to come up with a Pogue nickname for you.”

She grinned, wrapping her arms around your waist once she made it into the boat. Your friends piled in, quickly pushing off the bank and starting the engine as soon as everyone was ready. The second you made it far enough that you were sure no one was following you, all your friends turned to you.

You flushed under their stare, keeping Sarah’s hand intertwined with yours.

It was quiet a moment, before John B cleared his throat, motioning to you. “Alright! Since no one will ask, I will. Let’s hear the story of the Pogue and the Kook.”

You stood, speaking quickly. “I will preface this by saying that this story ends in the potential for finding the gold, which you can all thank me later for, by the way. Hold your questions till the end, children.”

Everyone rolled their eyes, and even Sarah groaned next to you as she hid her face behind you.

“Here we go!” You grinned, dramatically clearing your throat.

“Once upon a time…”

—

A/N - Hi! Got a little carried away with this one. Don’t love the whole thing, but there are parts of this I really like so I wanted to get this out. I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think :)

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