#I feel so cute like I’m supposed to be bouncing around a Claire’s | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bbhyeoliskooks · 3 years

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ꉂ ‵̤๑♡ 𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ♡๑‵̤ꉂ

➶ TXT’s Reaction to Realizing They’re Falling in Love

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

Genre: 5 cuppies of fluffies and three sprinkles of angst~!

Warnings: Nothing, but it’s a bit suggestive(?) for jjuniebug~

Song: Can’t Help Falling in Love

(Yeah... guess who’s a clown for coming back after like 15 days of break when she’d said she’d come back in march 🗿🗿 we’re just gonna pretend that never happened, and shift to where i’ll post in a while?? thank you for being patient with me tho 🥺)

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

ꉂ ‵̤ Yeonjun ꉂ ‵̤

<3 You and Yeonjun had um... a rough night of frustration so you decided that even though you were friends, you could have a few benefits only the two of you knew about

<3 It had been a while of resting with each other after cleaning up with blankets covering the two of you as you giggled, telling stories

<3 This time you were being clingy instead of him, snuggling up to him while he fawned over how cute you were even if your hair was messy

<3 He was in the middle of telling the story when he stopped to appreciate how you were paying full attention to him and only to him for that matter

<3 Seeing how your sparkling eyes widened in the moonlight once he told you about how he fed the ducks in the pond with bread, he couldn’t help his new desire anymore

<3 Without warning, Yeonjun leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours

<3 The kiss lasted for a while >.< both of your hearts pounding against your chests quickly despite the other person not knowing anything

<3 You both pulled away at the same time, panting because of the loss of air once he captured his lips with yours

<3 “How can someone’s lips be so soft,” he delicately whispered before cupping your cheek tenderly with his hand (ahh my poor heart, why am i doing this to myself eeee >3<)

<3 Even like this, you were so gorgeous to him and you made him smile so much that goodness, he can’t help but fall in love with the beautiful you.

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

ꉂ ‵̤ Soobin ꉂ ‵̤

<3 Awwe late night drives with Soobders, let’s go~!

<3 It just peeked two am, the wee hour of the morning in which you obviously knew the two of you weren’t supposed to be out this late since classes started tomorrow

<3 How had it all started? Because both of you were still awake at one am for some reason, you decided to do an activity with him to make both of you sleepier

<3 It had been an adventure of driving Soobin to Mcdonalds first to get his ice cream like he asked, but then soon evolved into driving just because it was soothing

<3 Soobin was softly singing along to Magic Island, looking out the window while you thought internally how pretty his voice sounded

<3 All of a sudden, he spoke up after thinking for a while, “If we ever grow apart, will all our late adventures be over?”

<3 You were confused as to why he asked the question nonetheless, but you found his worries endearing... what made him think that in the first place?

<3 He looked to see you with a soft smile decorating your face when you hadn’t answered while you pulled over just to answer him

<3 “Don’t worry, my Soobders~ There’ll be much more to come, and I promise we can do this as long as you’re with me and I’m with you til the end of time. You promise, too?” You asked before sticking up your pinky finger.

<3 His heart- aghh he knows he can’t take this fluttering feeling much longer !!

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

ꉂ ‵̤ Beomgyu ꉂ ‵̤

<3 Beomgyu knew he had a fever and guess what he did that made you as red as a tomato due to anger !

<3 He wasn’t taking care of himself and you had enough of it :cc

<3 It was after you fed him (literally) with a ton of chicken noodle soup that you decided to reprimand him once and for all

<3 “You’re so stupid for not resting when you’re sick, idiot! I told you so many times to stay home, but you didn’t listen. What could’ve happened when-”

<3 Instead of answering, he tugged on your arm to make sure you’d fall into his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist in order to bring you closer

<3 “I know and I’m sorry, but could we please just stay like this? I wanna hold you, please. You know that your hugs give me strength the most.”

<3 Seeing how you didn’t object to his affection, he sighed against your embrace while sighing in relief~

<3 Although you were still a bit angry at him for not thinking of himself, with no hesitation you held him back while humming his favorite song quietly to yourself

<3 “Beomgyu, you know that I love you a lot, right? So please do me a favor and take care of yourself 🥺,” you cooed while mustering up the best puppy eyes you could do

<3 Seriously if you keep this up, he doesn’t know what he’ll do with that pounding heart in his chest

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

ꉂ ‵̤ Taehyun ꉂ ‵̤

<3 are you happy to be in paris- oui (ifykyk hehe)

<3 N E WAY, the teacher paired you up during this school trip to France for an assignment with the one and only Taehyunnie !

<3 You both easily completed it after thirty minutes, so for the rest of the time you had left, decided to scout a few trinkets and souvenirs for home~

<3 Along the way though, you finally found the Eiffel Tower and Taehyun awed at how pretty it was, pulling on your hand to get a closer look

<3 As if everything was going in slow motion, you heard La Vie En Rose echo from the back !

<3 You giggled at how the butterflies in your stomach fluttered as soon as the lights shone softly onto his warm face

<3 Taehyun held out his hand as if to say “care for this dance?” and you really couldn’t say no to that charming boy

<3 for this was a place containing the language of love after all~~

<3 The two of you stayed like that for a moment, dancing through the night while staring into each other’s gentle eyes

<3 He soon realized while holding you that you were the person he wanted to experienced new feelings with- and seeing your blinding smile grow whenever you were with him... it’s cheesy, but you two are definitely made for each other

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

ꉂ ‵̤ Kai ꉂ ‵̤

<3 It was a rainy day today :(( a bad rainy day today...

<3 At first, it was actually quite calming as you heard the famous piece “Clair de Lune” play from the distance~!

<3 But to add to the pile of misfortunes that occurred today from running late to classes to embarrassing yourself in front of everybody by loudly dropping both you and your books at the library, this was the most frustrating part since you forgot your umbrella when you left the house :cc

<3 Just your luck, huh? You were sure you looked like a pathetic fool in front of everyone there

<3 You just started piano lessons a few weeks ago so when you compared yourself to others, seeing how well they played, especially Kai...

<3 You couldn’t help but tear up since you kept thinking you weren’t going to be as good enough as them no matter how much you tried

<3 The tears welling up in your eyes gave you enough courage to step out into the rain, but before you could...

<3 You felt someone slip his hand into yours, holding an umbrella which covered the two of you as long as you stayed close to him

<3 When you burst into tears as soon as you glanced up at Kai, he felt the need to protect and make you feel better to the best of his abilities by engulfing you in a tight hug

<3 Really, what’s wrong with him? He said he’s too young for love, but what was this warm and bouncing feeling in his chest when he let you cry on his shoulder?

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

Posted: 1/15/21- 3:00am (yes ik im up so late but what can you expect after i’ve taken like a four hour nap earlier)

Tags:

#txt fluff #txt angst #txt reactions #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt timestamps #txt ot5 #txt drabbles #txt fanfic #txt ff #txt fic #txt headcanons #txt blurbs #ahhh hi im back #big cry i need to sleep soon it's nearing 3am #i have to go to physical on tuesday tho pls save me :D #anybody just randomly craving chicken rn or is that just me

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years

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Hello!👋🏻 i’ve got a request, if you don’t mind: for Diego Hargreeves, where he and the reader have their second baby, and introduce him or her to their oldest and the rest of the family?💕

A/N: Alright, this was hella cute, and I’m mildly concerned with how quickly I was able to write it. Shoutout to @midnightseance for having an instant, perfect solution to my baby naming crisis. You’re the best! Word Count: 1386 Content Warnings: babies, new sibling unhappiness, cheese to the 10th degree

Your leg bounced in the passenger seat as Diego slowly guided your car through the mid-morning traffic. You wanted to scream, or demand that he drive faster or something. But then your eyes fell to the rearview mirror and the precious cargo behind you, and your mood flattened. As anxious as you were to get back to your little girl, especially after three days (the longest you had ever been apart), your heart twisted at the idea that he would ever be in danger.

A comforting hand fell on your knee, squeezing lightly.

“We’ll be home soon,” your husband assured.

“I know,” you sighed. “I just...I miss Maggie so much.”

“And she misses you too. Although both times I stopped in she did ask where ‘her’ baby was first before where you were,” he laughed.

“At least you got to stop in,” you pouted. “God. Three days. She’s probably forgotten me. Adopted Klaus as her new mother. I’ll be a stranger to her.”

Diego laughed louder, unable to resist your dramatics, something you did indeed share with the brother in question. The sound made your son stir in his sleep and you both tensed, barely breathing until he settled again. Twice already in the drive from the hospital you had made Diego pull over so that you could check on him, somehow even more anxious than you had been when bringing Maggie home.

Finally, the traffic seemed to let up and you began moving at faster than a snail’s pace, and you sighed in relief.

Lifting your son from his carseat, tucking him close to your body to block out the sun, you looked up at the Academy. Somehow, even though the building looked the same, it was so much less menacing than it used to be. Maybe because you knew that inside was a place of warmth and love, that all of Diego’s siblings had worked together to make it a home instead of the glorified prison they’d grown up in.

“Ready babe?” you asked, looking over at your husband who smiled down at the two of you, dumbstruck.

After a moment, you quirked an eyebrow and called his name, shaking him out of his daze.

“I kind of need you to get the door,” you pointed out.

“Right, of course. I just...I can’t believe this is real,” he breathed before jogging ahead to pull open one of the wide double doors.

You were stunned when you entered and found a totally normal, empty foyer. You knew that Diego’s siblings knew you were coming home today, and in fact it was Allison who suggested that the pair of you spend a few days at the Academy with everyone to help you transition into having to care for two young children.

Suddenly a flash of movement caught your eye as the living room doors slid shut and you heard Claire’s voice call out “They’re here! For real this time!”

You exchanged a smile with Diego before shrugging slightly and he called out dramatically. “Hello? Anyone here? Guess not. Maybe we should just leave.”

“No! Uncle Diego, you’re supposed to come into the living room so we can all say surprise!” Claire cried, running out into the hall.

Diego smiled, crouching down to her level.

“Hey Claire,” he gestured up to the bundle in your arms and pressed a finger to his lips. “Can you go back in there and tell everyone that their surprise has to be quiet, and then we’ll come in and pretend we have no idea you’re there?”

“Is the baby sleeping?” she asked and he nodded. “Okay, I can do that. But you gotta promise you’ll act surprised.”

“Pinky swear,” he said, holding out his hand and shaking with her when she linked their little fingers.

He straightened, wrapping a careful arm around your shoulders which you gratefully leaned into, looking down at the baby before you both entered the living room. A few seconds after you crossed the doorway, everyone popped up from their hiding positions, Klaus and the children doing jazz hands and everyone grinning widely. It was a strange sight as they kept themselves eerily silent, and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips at the sight of your family.

“Mommy!” Maggie shouted, shattering the silence and running toward you to wrap her little arms tightly around your legs. “I missed you so much and Uncle Five said that if I was really good he’d teach me a trick and tried really hard to be good so can I learn it? Is that my baby? Can I see it? Are you gonna be home now for good?”

“Hi sweetie,” you said, feeling tears welling in your eyes as she babbled.

You ached to pick her up and hug her close the way you usually would. Diego, ever the attentive husband, sensed this and did the next best thing (knowing that she was just a little too big for you to lift in your delicate state) and lifted her so that she was at least close. Immediately she started squirming around, trying to catch a glimpse inside the blankets which started to move as the baby woke up for real.

You moved to sit on the couch as everyone crowded around. Gently, you moved aside his face covering so that he could peer out at the world with huge round eyes.

“Everyone,” you said softly, turning him to face the gathered crowd, “meet Eugene.”

“Eugene huh?” Luther asked, surprised. “I sort of thought well...that if any of us ever had a son we’d…” he trailed off awkwardly.

“We talked about it for a long time,” you explained, looking nervously over at Diego. “And we wanted to honor Patch, since she was the one that brought us together, and Diego’s best friend…”

Diego’s eyes flickered from you to the omnipresent, soft blue glow over Klaus’s shoulder.

“Besides,” he said, shrugging as casually as he could despite the fact that his voice was thick with emotion, “having two Ben Hargreeves around would be chaos.”

“Why is he ugly Mommy?” Maggie cut in, making the same face at her little brother that she made at broccoli. “He’s all wrinkly and dumb, not like a doll.”

You opened your mouth, unsure how to reply when Allison helpfully stepped in.

“Well sweetie,” she started before being cut off by your daughter throwing herself off the couch.

“I hate him! Make him go away!” she cried running out of the room.

The volume of her exclamation made Eugene start to cry, and you stared helplessly at your gathered in-laws.

“I’ve got the Squirt,” Five said fondly before vanishing in a flash of blue.

“And I’ll make sure his solution isn’t teaching her murder. That was the trick by the way, that he promised her. I think,” Klaus added, leaving the room at a casual stroll that in no way comforted you.

You bounced your son soothingly, murmuring nonsense until he calmed down, his middle and ring fingers sucked in his mouth as he fell back to sleep.

“She didn’t really...mean that, did she?” you whispered anxiously.

Allison sat on the opposite side of you from your husband, wrapping her arms comfortingly around you and letting you rest your head on her shoulder.

“No,” she assured matter-of-factly. “It’s just a big change. Remember how much Claire hated Maggie for the first few days? And now they’re thick as thieves.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Vanya added. “And you guys are going to have the cutest family ever.”

“And Five wouldn’t really teach a three year old how to kill, right?” you grimaced.

“He might,” Luther said with a shrug and you stared at him, aghast.

“I’m kidding!” he said, waving his hands as if the gesture would stop you from panic. “I mean, even if he would, Klaus is responsible enough to…” he pressed his lips together for a moment, realizing what he was about to say. “I’ll go check on them.”

You watched Luther rush out of the room, following the path your daughter and Klaus had taken and despite your worries and the tears still settled in the corners of your eyes, you couldn’t help but smile. This right here, this was your family and you couldn’t be happier.

#I have got to stop pretending I hate these kid fics when I bang them out in like no time and have so much fun writing them.#me thinks the Shye doth protest too much #Dad!Diego #I'm soft for this precious little family tbh #and all their extended disaster family #Diego Hargreeves x reader #The Umbrella Academy fic #kid fic #(the children's full names are Maggie Grace Hargreeves and Eugene Benjamin Hargreeves in case anyone's wondering)

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kanene-yaaay · 3 years

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No Moving

Kanene’s note: One year ago I threw a surprise party (very small and cozy) in my house and, after some hours, one of mah friends suggested we played some old games from our childhood and I remember my first thought was “Hey, no. We’re not children anymore.” but I said nothing because that sounded a lot like what society would want me to say. We played. And that was one of the best days I’ve ever had. Good enough to give me inspiration for this fanfic. With a lot of chaos and dorky sides and chaos and tickles!!! So I'm giving this to myself as a gift, because, ya know... S e r o t o n i n! Soooo, the lesson? Idk. Be feral, do chaos, play and f**k the society, I guess. Happy day for us all!!! :DD

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders and his series Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Ler!Roman and Ler!Virgil with Lee!Logan and Lee!Patton. Around 3.700 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Eu vou traduzir ainda ;w;. Thank you so so so much for being with me through all this crazy and difficult year. It’s been a bless to have all of you in my notes, my askys, and my notifications! Take care of yourself, lollipop, you deserve. <33

[~*~]

It was a sunny day. The heat from the biggest star of our solar system being placated by a relaxing wind incessantly throwing the napkins from the so careful, yet messy – as if this wasn’t a tradition the quartet repeated affectionately every single year – decorated table. The friends positioned themselves around it. The surprise party’s rush being already over after all their screaming, singing, eating and bickering, leaving the four to lazily chat or stare the breeze carrying lonely flowers around Virgil’s – the one who offered his house as a sacrifice to the chaos - yard, making them float in the air for some seconds before forgetting them on the dirt again.

Virgil snored softly from the spot he conquered on the tabletop, taking a peaceful nap. Patton was saying, in the fastest pattern he could muster, all the dad jokes his brain managed to think only to see how much time Logan would continue to give him the silent treatment before finally – and figuratively, the owner of the only brain cell of their group would say if he heard this narrative, - exploded and Roman?

Well, Roman was bored.

“I HAVE AN IDEA!!”

Then he slammed his hands on the top of the wooden object, successfully scaring Virgil out of it and of his sleeping – leading the poor adult to fall. Not before kicking a cup in Roman’s direction, his moves being weakened enough by his fogged brain so he missed it and hit Roman’s carefully manicured hands, instead, – at the same Patton, by reflex, slapped the two poor persons who had the bad luck of sitting next to him. He gathered the perfect timing to interrupt Logan’s scared jump by his confused ‘Why did- why- Why did you hit ME?’ sputtering.

“Ow.” The one in red shirt held protectively his arm and hand next to his chest, protesting with his usual offended noises as analyzed the light red spots on them and purposely ignored the ‘What the FUCK, Princey??’ shouted by the host. “Ow. O-w. Are you guys seriously going to hit me every time I try to make your poor lifes better, your barbarians? You know what? I am offended. Your peasants. I am going to get my dear Amanda the katana and then I am- I am out.”

Logan deadpanned in his direction, lifting one of his eyebrows in his disbelief expression as the other didn’t give a single step to the exit. He did his best to maintain the façade as Patton fuzzed over him, hugging and apologizing and hugging and softly petting his head and offering cake before gasping and turning around to fuzz now over Roman. “… Okay. I am taking Patton with me.”

“Over my dead, haunted body.” Virgil quickly proclaimed before his tune got slurred, very much likely still sleepy. “I saw…” He balanced his hands in front of him, eyes wide and hair spiked, very much reminding of a scared cat. “I saw the angel of death, in all his tall dark, cold aura. In front of me. He was right before me, full of-” He moved his hands more, as if that compensated for his lack of words. “Emo.”

“…Thanatos?” Logan pointed.

“Yeah, yeah. That guy.” Virgil came back to his initial position laying down on the cold surface, yawing. “Totally emo.”

“Actually, when he was created-”

“Excuse me. Focus, focus!” The one who initiated the commotion snapped his fingers until all the eyes were fixated on him, glares traveling from interested to unimpressed. “My brilliant idea? That will light up this party and hearts? Drum the drums!” Silence. He turned to Patton, who was staring at a cute butterfly mindless flying around. “Patton! The drums!” The one wearing black rims seemed to come back to reality, drumming his fingers on the table. “Very well!” Roman spun, extending the suspense. Logan came back to scrolling on his phone, Virgil getting closer to take a look, both hiding a smirk when heard the pout in Roman’s tune. “You’re all jerks and boring. Let’s play S.T.O.P!”

That caught their attention.

“Roman, you are…” Logan talked slowly, as if trying to make his words as clear as possible, “aware that we’re adults now, right?”

“Aw, come on, guys!” Patton jolted upright. “Sounds fun! And I think Virgil’s yard is bigger enough to make it even better than when we played in middle school!”

“Exactly! And it was one of your favorites games when you were younger, remember, Specs? I think it’s a good way to celebrate that special date which is your birthday!” Logan scoffed at that, albeit his mind was somewhere else.

Roman wasn’t wrong, he really used to love this game, especially because he was good at it. His love for sports was often ignored by most of his classmates because of his good grades – Logan never understood why one thing would exclude other – therefore he was constantly forgotten in the team or even underestimated. Two things extremely crucial in a game like this. Roman noticed his contemplating face. “I mean, except you are afraid of losing. Again.”

“I did not lose! Kyle fell on me and he was the only one supposed to be out and not both of us and you. Know. It!”

“No, no, no! Claire said you were the one who tripped on your way and then YOU fell on Kyle-”

“That is nonsense! If Claire had stopped just one second her Dance of Victory, she would be able to see that, by the angle we both were on the ground there was no way I would be able to-”

“Oh, plu-e-ase. You are just a sore los-”

“What is this game?” Virgil questioned Patton, both letting the bickering fall on the background, who smiled widely, his gaze unfocusing a bit, probably watching some old memories of his childhood.

“It is a very simple but fun game!! One person stays next to a wall and, oh! We call him the Looker by the way! Or even some large thing and the others players stay the most away from him as possible. The person next to the wall has to count until a certain number of his choice and while he is counting everyone is free to wander around the place until he turns around, then every player has to freeze on the same spot and position they were. If you move and the Looker catches you, you’re out. You win if you touch the wall where he was. You can do everything you want as long the Looker is not staring at you.

“There was that one kid who managed to win the game by climbing a tree until he was close enough to jump from it and run to the wall before the Looker shouted he was out.” The one wearing two party hats as ‘cat hears’ stopped to breath. “Ah! Ah! Also! If you’re out you can choose to just watch the game or become the Looker’s partner and try to help him. Roman and Logan used to be the worst ever when together.” He giggled, sounding a bit hysteric.

“Hm. I think they used to call this ‘10 Seconds’ in my school, since you could count only further than 10 seconds.” Virgil then frowned. “Wait, why were they the worst?”

“Uhh, so, you see, the Lookers can use some… attics to try to make you move. Logan and Roman usually choose to-”

“I do NOT wish to participate.” Logan stated, crossing his arms stubbornly. Roman sighed.

“Well, you do you.” Roman then traveled his glare to the others two. “Are you guys coming? I’m the Looker.”

“I’m in!!” Patton excitedly got up, joggling his way to the yard, casting a slightly worried look at Logan, who was adjusting his chair in order to have a better view of the game. Virgil shrugged, taking off his hoodie and following them, quickly throwing a ‘You ok?’ as he passed next to the most professional of the group.

“Yes.” He deeply breathed, sounding calmer. “Yes, I am.” And then give him a bite of a smile.

Roman positioned himself before the colorful three foot tall concrete tunnel forgotten there by the last owner, barely catching with the corner of his field view his two friends whispering something to each other, the one wearing two party hats snickering behind his hand, bouncing as also choose a good position far away from him, who tried to not think much about what he just presented. A suspicious feeling crawled the back of his neck.

“Go.” Logan pronounced.

“Oneeeee, twooo, three, fourfivesixseveneight,” Roman turned away from them, counting in a tune just above a whisper. Patton and Virgil exchanged glances.

When he got at twenty, he turned.

Only to find Virgil laid on the grass, his arm extended to point something in the sky, Patton crouched by his side, his face firm in a puzzled expression staring in the same direction, hand above his eyes to block the Sun. Roman frowned in confusion, the curiosity tickling the back of his brain until he succumbed to it, also looking at the sky to - surprise, surprise! – find absolutely nothing!

By the time he stared at them again Patton now was in front of Virgil, both making what seemed like a very horrible parody of The Creation of Adam painting. Roman got closer, managing to clearly see the smug smile on Virgil’s face and Patton wobbly lips, very much likely holding laughter. He crossed his arms, staying stubbornly for some seconds before giving up, seeing that none of them moved a single millimeter.

“You two are so funny.” Roman rolled his eyes, sarcasm dropping from each word. Logan snorted.

This time the Looker counted at only fifteen seconds.

This time Patton was in Virgil’s arms when he turned, one leg suspended dramatically in the air. The third time Roman growled loudly as Virgil was on one knee, pretending to propose to Patton who was frozen in the middle of his faint. In the fourth he didn’t even have the chance to turn before two hands tased his sides, making his knees buckle but being held in the same place when a pair of arms that hugged him from behind, capturing the poor adult in a flow of high-pitched squeaks and surprised laughter at each squeeze and spidering deposited just above his hips.

Some minutes later soft snorts followed him to the ground when he was finally freed, flames running on his face and his arms firmly pressed at his sides, the ghost tickles leading to a sea of giggles dancing in the air.

“Enough.” Logan cut the moment, all the eyes on him when he got up, stretching and loosening his party tie. The Looker recomposed himself in order to sneak pokes and squeezes on the other two, who quickly dashed their way back to the yard. “You both clearly aren’t taking this seriously enough.” A dangerous gleam took over his eyes, staring intently to Roman, who instantly got the same kind of shine in his own glare, nodding in his direction. Both too much preoccupied to notice Virgil and Patton silently high fiving in the distance.

The game started again, now a very different electricity dancing in the air. Logan sensed an old feeling of nostalgia resting on his back as he analyzed the place and his opponents as things went by. Roman turned for at least three times – the perfect number for things to get really interesting, - before he decided to finally move from his place.

Silent steps, he went right to Patton. Logan breathed in relief, taking the opportunity to adjust his strategic position half behind the tree. Patton kept a pattern of switching from moving too fast in a round and then barely taking a step in the other, however, as Roman stopped before him, and for the way he soundless snickered as The Looker changed his target to Virgil, his weakness was still holding his laughter when stared for long periods of time.

Virgil was sitting on the grass. Again. A very good tactic when you tend to fidget or tremble a lot. He would stay in the same position for some rounds until in an explosion of energy dash forward when Roman wasn’t paying attention. The Looker crouched in front of him, his index finger pointing and almost touching his nose.

“You. I don’t trust you.”

And then there was Logan.

“You,” Roman stared in distance – not because of fear pffff of course not - Logan’s form half hidden by the foliage and trunk of the medium tree, his glass making his eyes gleam in a light even more enhanced due the shadow provided by the plant, the rest of his face being partially hidden because of his bangs falling on his features. “are fucking creepy. Stop.”

In the next round Patton gave everyone a heart attack when he screamed since he didn’t heard/saw Logan approaching his spot. Two more rounds. Virgil sneezed and lost his balance in a not very ideal mid-run position. Out.

“Oh, thank gracious, great goodness!! Come here, Knight Mare!! I have an idea!!” Virgil barely had time to stop swearing for losing before being recruited by Roman, who immediately began to whisper in his ear.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Patton asked, both being close enough for the question doesn’t need to be spoken above a murmur.

“Not a good thing for us both, I am sure.” In that moment The Lookers turned and a cold shiver ran Logan who, for the way Patton trembled, wasn’t the only one. Adrenaline started pulsing on his veins when they approached, although the birthday person had no idea of why. His old memories too much buried under newer ones for him to catch them.

“Nooohoho.” The cat lover whined and the fact Roman clearly saw that but did nothing to point it, his only reaction being to expand his grin, worsened Logan fears, a ray of recognition finally shining on his mind. That should be how karma feels.

“Look at you both, just standing right there, not being allowed to move an only single inch. What a sad fate, don’t you think, Princey?”

“Oh, absolutely, emo. A horrible, wondrous thing, indeed. But you know what that would be perfect for?” Roman now was just a few centimeters away, the infinitesimal distance being cut when he inclined forward, his breath tickling Patton’s – Poor Patton – ear. “Revenge. You know, Pattycake, Hot Topic here told me the previous attack on my amazing person was your idea. And now that I stop to think, what a wonderful idea, don’t you think, Pat-pat?”

Virgil pulled lightly Roman’s shoulder, sensing the other about to crack but yet having too much fun to end this all so early. “But not now. No touching, right?”

“Oh, right, right. Of course, no touching!” He wiggled his fingers, barely away from the poor target’s ribs, his cheeks already beginning to get pink from blush. “No touching, no touching, no touching, but, most important than anything else: no. moving.”

“Oh, yeah.” Virgil took the opportunity to walk around, stopping right behind Patton, who firmly closed his eyes, the smile he carried getting bigger. “Because the exact, very moment when you can’t take the teases anymore so you break and move?” He tsked. “Then all your protection will be over and you will be all helpless and vulnerable for us to tickle,” He almost purred the words, in the slowest way possible. “tickle, tickle, tickle for hours and hours. Can you imagine that, Popstar? Our fingers prodding and squeezing and tickling every single ticklish spot they find?”

“Ohoho.” Roman evil laughed. “Tickle spots? My Dear Imbalanced Romance, our pipsqueak here doesn’t have any tickle spots. He IS a tickle spot. Ah! I can almost hear his hysteric high-pitched squeaks and giggles! Such an adorable, beautiful, cute melody to my ears. Actually, I don’t know if I will ever be able to stop, Virgil. It’s just all too beautiful and intoxicating, you know?”

“Mm hm,” The other seemed to stop to think. Patton felt like he was going to melt at any moment. “Well, we could always just keep going forever.”

“Of course!” Roman again ignored the slight trembling of the cat lover’s chest, probably due all the giggles trapped there. “Don’t you think it will be wonderful and oh, so, so fun, cutiepants? Receiving all the tickles and nuzzles and raspberries and tickle hugs and tickly butterfly kisses forever and ever and ever? ~” He sing-song the last part.

“But,” Logan almost jumped in the same place, not even realizing how much keyed up he was before Virgil’s breath attacked the back of his defenseless neck. Suddenly all his nerves were hype-aware that he couldn’t turn around or run or even rub away the tingles. Goosebumps ran freely across his spine. “Let’s not forget about our so sensitive nerd here too, right?”

“Sure. Sensitive.” If he didn’t know Roman for all these years, Logan would almost swear he was the Cheshire cat, his smirk almost blocking Patton who hugged himself behind him, giggling quietly. “Because the serious, smart, professional Logan would never be ticklish, right? That is such a childish thing and he definitely, definitely outgrow it for now.”

“Yup. I am sure that, if we slowly and thoroughly spider our fingers all the way up from his sides to his armpits, being sure to give each and every rib a special attention since we don’t want to let anyone feeling left out, there will be no reaction.”

“Absolutely! No reaction at all! Not even if we squeeze the hollows of his hips, or scribble on his already quivering tummy, or massage his shoulder blades or lightly, almost not touching, scratch his armpits… It will be all in vain since our birthday boy is not ticklish.”

“Which means: No wheezy, frantic laughter.”

“Or sputtering among his squeals.”

“Or cute snorts. Don’t forget the snorts.”

“And what about when the snorts get mixed with his belly laughter?”

“Ohh, that is some good shit you have there.”

Logan was dying. He was fucking dying and the only thin line keeping him alive was his stubborn nature. He could already feel his barrier cracking and crumbling right before him. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, only to find both Lookers walking away back to the tunnels, not taking long before starting to count, this time out loud. The one with the, now freaking out, braincell began to snap his fingers non stop, trying to get away some of the built excited energy, some titters escaping from his lips during his happy stimming.

Roman and Virgil looked at each other and then the adorable scene right in front of them, deciding to have mercy and wait patiently for Logan and Patton – who yet didn’t stop giggling and hugging himself – to calm down.

(…)

One. Move.

And in the next second, they both were tackled on the ground.

“No, no, no!!! No!!” Patton was already giggling, trying to run from Roman’s firm hug, attacking with squeezes and scribbles in every spot he succeeded to research on the Looker as he also tried to escape from his friends’ hands attempting to hold him in the same place. “Wait, wait!” He cried, barely catching a glimpse of Logan’s trashing before an idea popped in his mind. “If we all gang up on Logan, I will tell about his secret tickle spot!!”

“Patton!!” Logan’s protest came out difficulty between his tight grin due his constant effort in trying to buckle Virgil from him, both struggling to immobilize the other and playfully rolling in the grass. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Pffft.” Roman said, a happy cry following his sentence when he finally managed to hold one of Patton’s hands, intertwining their fingers so the cat lover wouldn’t try to pry it away. “Nonsense, I know his tickle spots.”

“Not all of them. ~”

“Patton, I am to going not figuratively end you. Get OFF, Virgil-”

“In your dreams.” He crackled. “Also, Patton, I’m listening.”

“Virgil! Don’t align with the enemy! And, of course I know all of them!”

“Even the one…”

“Patton, no! Stop!” Roman even if concentrated in tickling Patton’s knee so he could sit on his legs, got the slight tremble in Logan's voice, his curiosity one more time starting to take over his brain.

“Sorrey, sorrey, Lo! You know I love you but-”

“Patton, please.” Logan almost smiled as he fought his way to hug and trap Virgil from behind, but losing his balance as the other quickly turned and delivered a raspberry on his neck and quick squeezes on his left thigh. “dON’T!! I-I am going to bakeEEK - Fuck! - you a whole batch of cookies if you don’t tell them!”

Roman caught in the offer, his curiosity immediately perking up, answering in a bat:

“I’m going to tickle you both to pieces if you don’t tell us now.”

“Sorrey, Logan,” Patton tried to sound apologetic, but his excited smile made this task more difficult. “it’s you or me.”

“I’m going to tell them about your calves!” Logan threatened at the same time Patton said “It’s his lower back!”

“TRAITOR!” Both also shouted in synchrony. In a blink of eye Roman let Patton go and helped Virgil to make the most serious one of the group lay down on his stomach.

“I despise you all.” The aforementioned pronounced.

“Aww. Come on.” Virgil lowered, searching the other’s eyes, grinning. “Aren’t you enjoying the view?”

“400.000 years of evolution for humanity to become this. You all should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“You know, talking like this makes me think you don’t want us to give you your so dearly craved birthday tickles, Pocket Protector!”

The three of them stared at the other, looking carefully for any slight indication that Logan was truly uncomfortable with the situation, receiving as response only a scoff, the blush painting his face as a whispered mumble flew from his mouth.

“You’re so cute!” Patton squealed, giving a light tickly kiss on the back of his neck, leading the attacked to suppress a small giggle which progressively got louder as the cat lover tickled his armpits, Roman and Virgil seeing unfazed by Logan’s squirming. “Okay, okay. You have to tickle his lower back but starting with reeeeeally slow scratches at his sides before speeding it to the fastest scribbling you can muster as you move to his spine!”

Logan hid his hot face behind his hands, the yelps and snorts already escaping between his fingers. He was, objectively, going to love every single second of this.

#Ler!Roman #Ler!Virgil #Lee!Logan #Lee!Patton #brief Lee!Roman & Ler!Virgil/Patton #Teases #Teasy cute nicknames #playful tickles #Sanders Sides tickles #Happy stimming #Sanders Sides tickling #tickle fic #Logan playing is inspirated in one friend of mine who is adorable until he starts to play then he becomes a fucking thing #out of a fucking horror movie #If he got too much close of me I would scream and I'm not kidding. He was terrifying and he loved this xD #Ohhh so that is how writing a self indulgent fic feels like-#My first plan was to make a LAMP series with all their birthdays but life said 'no' and then I just worked with what I had and #being pretty honest??? I am so so so much proud of it.#Especially looking at my first tickle fic ever which I wrote around this same time last year #Btw when I used to play this at school light tickles and teases were allowed xDDD #EXTREMELY RARE but allowed xDD #Self care is writing ur self idulgent fic while listenning your fav nostalgic playlist

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monst · 4 years

Note

Hi!! I’d like to request 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘 where the reader is dating Dabi and she’s like Cat from victorious if you know her, a bubbly, crackhead girl ♥️

His common rose

Dabi x bubbly Reader

Warnings: Cute?

He could feel the stares on the both of you as you walked down the street. People stared, they always did, and they created their own preconceptions of the nature of your relationship with him. At first, he loved the attention smirking when people would look over at you both incredously. He grinned when people looked back at the both of you as you walked with your fingers interlocked. And, his personal favorite when they murmured.

“Poor girl does she even know who she’s with?”

“She must be blind. Absolutely no taste.”

“He’s tricking her.”

“Look at him there is no way he doesn’t worship the devil he probably uses black magic to keep that innocent girl by his side.”

“Do you think she’s right in the head? He’s a criminal…”

Okay the last one got on his nerves. He didn’t appreciate people belittling you. But after two years of dating he was over it and wished people would just let the two of you walk in peace. He wasn’t asking for much just a ‘cute’ date with his girl like she asked.

“Dabi look!” You chirped pointing to a store that sold hardware.

“What am I supposed to be looking at doll?” He questioned.

“The mascot! It’s cute don’t you think.” You giggled.

“Yeah sure it’s…. really grey.” He shrugged looking at the man dressed as a wrench.

“I’m glad we’re hanging out together. I really missed you!” you beamed.

“We saw each other yesterday baby doll. But yeah I guess I missed you too.” He smirked, his heart racing when you squeezed his hand gently. Two years and his heart still fluttered when you did something like that.

“Dabi let’s go in there!” You bounced tugging the man towards your shop of choice. He thought you were heading towards Claire’s but instead you beelined it to Ollies. He was content with you dragging him about and hearing your excitable bouts on certain products.

“Let’s dye our hair together” You proposed.

“Our hair?” He asked.

“Yes, silly I didn’t stutter.” You teased bumping his hip with yours playfully. “It’ll be cute.”

“I dunno doll face I kinda like my hair color.” He quickly looked away from you after words. He knew he was helplessly whipped for you and if you brought out the puppy eyes and the pout, he would dye his hair rainbow.

“Please~” And the that tone of voice. He groaned and gave you a pointed look that would have scared others.

“Fine.” He cracked.

“Yay!” you cheered doing a strange dance that looked more like you were trying to summon Cthulhu. His expression softened at your childlike happiness. If he was being honest, he loved seeing you like this; happy, carefree and untainted by the horrors of this world. In a way you kept him grounded. His world was ugly and violent, you didn’t belong in it and, he often felt like he didn’t belong with you. But you weren’t giving him much of a choice because when he voiced it out you had the cutest rage fest pounding on his chest with tears in your eyes saying that you loved him and didn’t care about what others had to say. You were his common rose. The only good thing he had in this world.

And, he was no hero but come hell or high water he would protect you and your childlike innocence. As the both of you walked out of the store with cheap hair dye he couldn’t stop the smile that split his face.

“You look beautiful like that.” You hummed.

“Like what?” He asked.

“When your smiling happily.” You smiled.

He looked away. He didn’t want you knowing how much your words flustered him. “You okay Dabi?”

“Yeah, let’s keep going.” He coughed. “You must be hungry let’s get some food.”

“Oi watch where you’re going you dipshit.” He snarled. “You almost dropped your drink on my girl.”

“So.” He sassed “The ditz shouldn’t have been in the way.” The man who lacked self-preservation cells turned away and bringing his steaming cup of coffee up to his lips.

“(Name).” He addressed.

“hmm?”

“Turn around and close your eyes.” He with a deceitfully calm smile. “Count to fifty will ya?”

“Okay.” You turned “Are we playing a game?”

“Sure, something like that.” He responded from further away. “Keep e’m closed baby girl and you’ll win.”

“Okay!”

#bnha scenarios #dabi #dabi x reader #dabi fluff #bnha fluff #bnha villains #dabi scenarios #dabi imagine #mha dabi #bnha dabi #Dunno it's just sweet :P

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writer-jamie · 4 years

Text

Bear Hug - Chris Redfield x Reader

Summary: You hid your child from Chris for months, but it all comes crashing down when he finds out about her in bad circumstances.

Word Count: 1,619

A/N: i was inspired by @alex-brooklyn ‘s fic called Monsters and i wanted to write my own take on that prompt! i love their work so make sure to check them out! i'm not sure what chris this is...maybe between re5 and re6? not quite sure, anyway! enjoy this cute fluff ❤️

When you and Chris met, you didn't tell him you had a daughter. You couldn't, after all everyone always runs away when they find out you are a mother. But you also never had the chance to tell him. It wasn't supposed to happen the way it did but when Chris bursted into your home with Leon and Claire, you refused to hide her anymore. Honestly, you weren't even trying to hide her, both Claire and Leon knew about her, you just didn't tell Chris because you didn't know why you should. You also didn't want to scare him off. It wasn’t like you were dating or anything but you were partners, and very close. You should have told him, after all you had been working together for three months at this point. You just didn't know how to bring it up in conversation. What would you even say? ‘Hey Chris. By the way I have a daughter, who’s Father fucked off when she was born because he couldn't deal with it.’ But when he realised you didn't tell him, his heart broke.

The three of them rushed into your house and sat around the table, papers in hand. You could tell something big was happening. You stood there, bottle of milk in hand. You didn't know what to say. Just as you were about to talk, your daughter waddled out her room and towards the adults. Chris’ face dropped and he just looked at you. She looked just like you. Claire noticed the awkwardness and staring between you two so she picked up your daughter and took the milk from your hands. “I’ll put her down for you.” And with that she left the room. Leon couldn't deal with the awkwardness of the situation so he decided to join Claire in the bedroom, leaving you and Chris to sort out whatever was happening between you two.

“What’s happening then? Something urgent?” You ran a hand through your hair and walked towards the table, looking at the papers. Chris was gobsmacked that you could just continue working as if nothing had happened. You could feel his eyes on your head as you looked around the notes. “Y/N..” You ignored him and continued to figure out the situation. You couldn't do this. Chris grabbed your arm and turned you around so you were facing him. “Why didn't you tell me?” Chris furrowed his brow and looked at you. He looked hurt. “I didn't feel that there was any need. Lottie has nothing to do with my work, so I keep them separate. She doesn't need to get involved in my work life.” Chris scoffed. “You don't think that I'm more than just ‘work’? Claire knew? How long has she known?” You shook your head and looked away from the man.

“Hey!” Chris pulled you up to him fast, so fast you hit his chest. “Fucking hell Chris!” You swore at him and sighed. “Claire has known for a long time. I worked with Claire first remember!” Chris bit his lip and looked around your house, seeing the baby photos of your girl and professional photos of you and Lottie. “How old is she?” You scratched your neck. “Two. Three in December.” You told him. The room went silent and you didn't know what else to say. You pulled yourself away from Chris. He watched as you disappeared down the hall, into the same room where Claire and Leon went. Chris put his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes. “Fuck.” He swore underneath his breath.

------

The sun went down but your daughter refused to sleep. She was struggling to sleep for a couple nights now so you were wide awake at 10pm with your daughter on your chest, watching Peppa Pig. Your mind was slowly going to mush as the programme was on loop, listening to the British pigs talk about muddy puddles and rubbish that you would remember for the rest of your life. You hadn't spoken to Chris much after the situation that happened the other week. He had sent you multiple messages apologising for the way he acted but you didn't reply, you only replied to one message telling him you won't be in work because you couldn't get child care. This made Chris realise how many days of work you missed because you couldn't get childcare. It upset him that you did it all alone.

After an hour straight of watching Peppa Pig, there was a knock at the door. Luckily your daughter wasn’t asleep yet, because if she was, you could have murdered whoever was at the door. You held your daughter to your hip as you walked to the door, looking through the peep hole. Chris. You swore underneath your breath before unlocking and opening the door, looking at the man. He looked tired, like he hasn't slept in days. “Y/N..” You cut him off by opening the door move. “It’s chilly. Come inside.” You invited him in and he didn't argue. He walked inside the house to see that it had become more messy than it was when he was last here. But you did have a toddler, so he let you off. He saw the empty wine bottles on the kitchen table as well as some take away wrappers and some empty milk bottles. “She isn't sleeping, so Peppa Pig will have to do until she drops off.” Chris nodded and walked to the couch, taking a seat in the dark room. The screen was blaring light that bounced off every shiny surface of the house. He watched as you grabbed another bottle of milk for your daughter. You did everything one handed like you've been doing it your whole life. You looked like an expert. He wanted to get up and ask you if you want some help but by the time the thought popped into his head, you had already done it and were walking back to the couch. You sat next to Chris, allowing Lottie to slide between you and Chris. She looked at the man and tilted her head, confused who he was. “That’s Chris. Say hi Lottie.” You told her. She waved at the man before cuddling into her mother’s chest and drinking her bottle.

You and Chris sat there in silence, listening to the children’s television show in the background. You had moved your hand that was underneath your daughter to the top of the couch for comfort, since Lottie wouldn't move. Chris moved one of his arms next to yours and held your hand, playing with your fingers before he took your hand into his. You felt heat begin to rise on your cheeks as he did so, wanting your daughter to sleep now so you two could talk.

Finally, after another hour, Lottie dropped off. You couldn't move without waking her so Chris picked her up and walked her to her bedroom. You followed behind, watching as the man laid her down in her princess bed and tucked her in. He placed a kiss on her forehead and passed her the teddy that was next to her. You smiled and walked up to Chris, before leaning down yourself, placing a kiss on your daughter’s cheek before leaving her nightlight on. You left the room and walked back into the living room, turning over the channel and sitting down on the couch. “I don’t think I could take much more Peppa Pig.” Chris joked and looked at the you, running his hand over his eyes before putting his hand on your leg.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t want to mess anything up.” Chris shook his head and looked at you, moving his hand to yours, taking your smaller hands into his. “You couldn't mess anything up.” He shook his head and placed a kiss on your lips before pulling away, holding your head to his chest.

------

You woke up with the sun blaring through the blinds. You moved in your bed and put your arm over your face. Chris grunted next to you and pulled you closer, rubbing his hands up your back. “Morning grumpy.” You smiled and kissed his chest, rubbing your hands up and down his shoulders. Chris rubbed his eyes and pulled you into his chest, kissing your head.

The room was silent until you could hear footsteps enter your room. “Mommy? Chris?” Lottie rubbed her eyes and looked at you two in bed. “What’s up, Princess?” Chris asked and turned onto his back. Your daughter waddled over to Chris’ side of the bed and rubbed her eyes. Her favourite teddy hung from her other hand as she stood at Chris. “Can I cuddle?” She whispered into his ear. You smiled at the scene; your little daughter whispering into the ear of your large boyfriend. It was very cute. Chris nodded and picked up your daughter with ease, rolling over so she was in the middle of you two. “Oh hello there.” You laughed and showered your daughter with kisses. Chris joined in so your daughter was smothered by you two. “Stop!” She laughed loudly and kicked her legs around. You pulled away and watched as Chris tickled her and giggled along with her. After they calmed down, you kissed Chris gently. Your daughter fake vomited and looked at the two. “Gross!” She joked and looked at you two. “You are so dramatic!” You told her and kissed her cheek. “I love you.” You put your hand on your daughters cheek and looked at Chris. “I love you too.” He replied and gave you two a bear hug.

“Ah! You’re squishing me!” Lottie screamed out.

#resident evil #chris redfield x reader #mother!reader #re5 #re6 #chris redfield

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stcky-rogers · 4 years

Text

springtime || d.w

summary: dean interrupts a private moment and gets more than he bargained for. inspired by these songs - x x

pairing: dean winchester x reader

warnings: language, smut, oral sex - male receiving, sensory deprivation, unprotected sex, sub!dean, aftercare, and fluff

masterlist

dean closed the door to the bunker behind him. he’d been out with sam for their “brotherly bonding day”, only to be ditched by his brother for a brunette at the bar. he was happy for his brother, it was about time sam got laid, but he couldn’t help the sad feeling that bloomed in his chest. as much as he hated the name, he was looking forward to brotherly bonding day.

brotherly bonding day was something that you, one of the winchesters’ closest friends, had set up for them. with everything going on in their lives, sam and dean hardly ever had any time to bond or just hang out. it occurred once a month and on that day, the boys were supposed to spend time together, talk, and catch up. sometimes they’d even take a quick trip out of town or head to wichita and catch a movie or go to the bowling alley. dean remembers how stupid the idea once seemed and he would constantly make fun of it, but somewhere were around the fifth brotherly bonding day, he’d grown to love it. every chance he got he’d thank you.

he let out a sigh as he walked throughout the bunker. just as he was about to turn the corner to get to his room, he heard someone singing. he frowned, he was supposed to be alone. he pulled his gun from the waistband of jeans, flicking off the safety. he hoped sam hadn’t fucked with the warding again and something had gotten in there.

he peeked around the kitchen corner and the sight instantly made him stop in his tracks and lower his gun.

you were in dean’s beige henley and a pair of black lace underwear. you had on your bluetooth headphones and you were dancing. you weren’t dancing in the way dean would usually see, throwing your hands in your hair and swaying your hips dance. the way you were dancing brought dirty thoughts to dean’s mind.

you were swaying your hips, slowly, your knees bent as you went lower. the henley rising up and giving him a peek at your ass. you were humming along to the song playing through the headphones. you placed your hands above your head as you rolled your body, your hands coming down, running over your chest and stomach.

dean licked his lips, tucking the gun back into his waistband. he continued watching you as you bent over, your hands placed on your thighs and shook your ass. dean inhaled sharply as he watched you roll your hips, lowering yourself until you were squatting, resting on the balls of your feet. your hands were in your here as you continued rolling your hips, dean’s shirt coming up, putting your ass on display for dean.

you stood up, slowly, your hips swaying. you spun around, your eyes closed as you tilted your head to the beat of the song. your hand running down the valley of your neck, running over your clavicle. your hand stopping on your breast, your other hand coming up to cup your other breasts, you rolled your hips and tossed your head back.

dean felt like a creep, watching you become so lost in your own little world. but he couldn’t help it, something about the sight in front of him was mesmerizing. the way you moved so freely as if you didn’t have a care in the world. if this was what he could come home to every night, dean winchester would never be caught dead in a bar again.

a voice broke dean from his thoughts and staring, “enjoy the show?” you smirked as dean’s mouth opened and closed. he searched for a response and fell short every time, “i, uh, you,” dean gulped, making your smirk widen.

you quirked a brow at him, “yes or no?” dean inhaled sharply, his green eyes looking anywhere but you. “yes,” he whispered, a blush coating his cheeks. you gave a soft chuckle as you watched the man in front of you.

“you know, you’re cute when you blush.” you walked over to the fridge and grabbed a beer for dean. dean snorted in response, “shut up,” you laughed and dean smiled as he took the beer from your hands, a small thank you leaving his lips as he twisted off the cap. you watched him as he took a sip of his beer, a droplet resting on his bottom lip when he pulled the bottle away.

“where’s sam? it’s brotherly bonding day.” dean walked towards you, resting his hip against the counter. “he ditched me,” you frowned, “but, he’s getting laid, so i’m not mad at him.” dean smiled and you returned. “that’s great! it’s about fucking time.” dean laughed, shaking his head.

he took another sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving you. “how was your hunt?” he asked once he pulled the bottle away. “quick and easy, could’ve sent claire on that case by herself.” you said, dean nodding in response. you sat in silence, you and dean looking anywhere but at each other.

dean spoke up, “so, sam’s out,” you sighed, already knowing what he was suggesting. you pulled at a loose thread on his shirt and looked up at him, “we agreed that last time was the last time.” dean cleared his throat and began picking at the label on his beer bottle. you and dean slept together plenty of times. at first it was just harmless sex, a friend helping a friend, that was until feelings started getting involved. with the life you lived, you and dean would never be able to pursue anything, some monster or demon would use one of you to get to the other and you both knew it. it happened all the time with sam and dean.

dean stayed silent as he looked at you. you gave his shoulder a pat as you moved by him to get to your room. you were stopped by dean’s fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you into his chest. he placed his beer on the counter beside him, using his fingers to brush a strand of hair out of your eyes. his voice was soft when he spoke to you, sounding nothing like dean, “i know what we agreed on last time,” his hand cupping your cheek as the other wrapped around your waist, tugging you impossibly closer. “but, i can’t stay away from you. no matter how hard i try, i can’t and i’m done fighting it.” he confessed, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“dean,” you warned, before he shook his head, his eyes darting down to your lips. he looked back up at you, searching for any sign of rejection or reluctance, finding none, dean pressed his lips to yours. you immediately responded, moving your lips against his soft ones. your hands found themselves in his hair, your nails slightly dragging over his scalp, reaching up and giving the ends a not so gentle tug. the moan leaving dean’s lips was pure sin and you loved it, using his locks, you tugged him away from your lips. his lips red and swollen, his eyes fluttered open, pupils blown as he stared back at you.

“your room?” he rasped and you nodded. his fingers intertwined with yours and he tugged you out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into your bedroom shoving you inside and closing the door behind him. you quirked a brow at him and he gave you a sheepish smile.

you tugged dean towards you, pushing off his coat and flannel in one fluid movement. he kicked off his boots as you tossed his clothes somewhere behind you. dean stopped you when your hands began pulling at his shirt. you looked up at him, “you mind playing that song you were dancing to earlier?” he bit his bottom lip, watching your reaction. you nodded, grabbing your phone off of your nightstand and finding the song and clicking on it. dean had turned on your speaker and smiled at you when the song began playing through the speaker.

you walked back over to him, shoving him on the bed. he bounced lightly, watching as you tugged his shirt over your head. you tossed it aside before walking over to the edge of the bed and crawling towards dean, his eyes darkened as you moved to straddle his hips. you leaned forward, your hands sliding under his shirt as you brushed your lips over his. his hands tangled themselves in your hair, bringing you closer as he rested against the pillows.

you lightly bit dean’s bottom lip, tugging at it until it slipped from between your teeth. he moaned, his lips chasing you. you shook your head, a smirk on your lips as you moved to place a kiss just below his jaw. his breath catching in his throat as you continued your assault on his neck. his hands gripping your waist as you sucked at the soft skin, making a mark. dean’s hips jutted against yours, yearning for friction and you pulled away, tutting.

“please,” dean begged, eyes pleading for some kind of friction. you pulled dean into a sitting position and tugged his shirt off, tossing it to the side. his green eyes peered up at you, awaiting for your next move. you moved back, undoing his belt and popping the button on his jeans. you hooked your fingers into the band of his underwear and jeans and yanked them down, dean lifting his hips to help you. he pulled his lips out of them and kicked them off of the bed, you looked back up at him, his mouth slightly open as he watched you carefully.

“color?” you asked, dean’s eyes peering up at you. “green,” he spoke, voice soft, his eyes closing when you brushed your fingers against his cheek. he leaned into your touch, his lips pressing a soft kiss in your palm. you pulled away and dean whimpered, his head lifting off of the pillows as he watched you move around the room. you opened your drawer and pulled out one of the ties dean had left in your room.

you shut the drawer and turned to face dean, you held up the tie. “are you comfortable with me blindfolding you?” you asked and dean smiled softly, “you don’t have to keep asking me that, sweetheart.” you returned his smile, walking back over to the naked man spread across your bed. “it’s not easy to give up control when you’re a natural born leader,” you shrugged, straddling his hips.

he licked his lips and lifted his head for you. “it’s good to give up control, especially when it’s something like this.” you placed the tie around his head, tying it off. you adjusted it making sure it would completely deprive him of his vision. “color?” you asked and dean grinned, dropping his head against the pillows.

“green,” he called, “such a good boy,” he moaned and nodded. “only for you, mistress.” you smiled and leaned forward, pressing a quick peck to his lips. you left a trail of kisses from his jaw to his neck. you sucked at the skin just below his jaw, leaving a dark bruise in your wake, the moan leaving dean’s lips was pure sin.

you moved down his body, kissing his soft delicate skin. a small yelp left his lips when you nipped his collarbone making a chuckle leave your lips as you continued your assault. you stopped just at his waistline and peered up at him, his hands fisting the sheets, chest heaving as he anticipated your next move. “please, mistress,” dean whined when you took his member in your hand, pumping it slowly. “please what?” you asked, your breath fanning over his hard on. he sighed, a blush coating his cheeks as he kept quiet.

“please, use your mouth, mistress.” he pleaded, his hands gripped the sheets tighter at the feeling of your hair tickling his thighs. you wrapped your mouth around the tip, gently sucking before you lowered your head. tears pricking your eyes when he nudged the back of your throat. you brought your head up, lips wrapping around the tip of his dick.

“fuck,” dean moaned, his hips bucking up to push himself further into your mouth. you pulled away and dean whimpered, “i’m sorry, mistress, i’ll be good. i promise, please.”

you took him in your mouth, flattening your tongue against the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft. dean’s breathing hitched as you sucked him off. your hand wrapped around what your mouth couldn’t get. you moved faster, hollowing your cheeks and twisting your hand each time your head rose. dean was a moaning mess, his hands fisting the sheets, wanting desperately to touch you. a whimper left his throat as you tightened your grip and sucked harder. “mistress,” dean moaned, his head tossed back into the pillows, a slight arch in his back as you continued your assault. you hummed around him, sending vibrations through him and a cry left dean’s lips.

“can i cum, mistress? please, i wanna cum, mistress.” dean cried, a sigh leaving his lips when you released him with a wet pop. you jerked him off, your thumb rubbing over his slit, his hips jerking at the action.

“mistress, please.” dean huffed, his chest heaving. “come for me, sweet boy.” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his hipbone as you continued to pump him in your hand. dean came with a grunt, ribbons of come covering your neck and chest and covering his thighs. you gave him a few more pumps before releasing him. you crawled up his body, pressing delicate kisses to his skin. you straddled his waist and started peppering kisses all over his face. he sighed, a grin adorning his lips as you traced circles into his skin. “how you feelin’, dean?” you asked. “green, mistress.” he called and you chuckled.

“dean,” you started and dean cut you off, “please, i need to be inside you, mistress.” a needy whine escaping his lips and you leaned forward, taking his lips between your own. you reached up to untie the blindfold and dean shook his head. “i,” he started, a blush coating his cheeks. “i want to keep it on,” he stated and you smiled, “okay.”

you unhooked your bra and tossed it behind you, doing the same with your underwear when you rid yourself of them. you took dean’s already hard member in your hands, pumping him a few times. you rested on the balls of your feet as you guided him towards your entrance. you teased him, brushing the tip of his cock through your folds, a moan leaving both of your lips. dean’s hand fisting the sheets once again, you sunk down on him. a sigh leaving your lips as he pushed through your entrance. you stayed still, your walls fluttering around dean’s dick. he moaned, “please, move, mistress,” you smirked down at the beautiful man below you. “only because you asked nicely.” you rose up on the balls of your feet before sinking back down onto dean.

dean’s hands fisted the sheets, a moan leaving his lips. “can i touch you, mistress?” dean asked when you raised your hips again. “go ahead, sweet boy.” dean’s hands immediately flew to your waist, rubbing circles on your hips as you continued bouncing on his dick. you rode him slow and hard, every time you raised your hips, you’d come up just enough so the tip was barely inside you and slamming back down on him.

a thin layer of sweat covered your bodies as you rode him, dean’s hands gripped your waist tighter as you fucked him into oblivion. his toes curling and your name tumbling from his lips like a mantra. “such a good boy for me,” you cooed and dean moaned, “only for you, mistress.” he pulled his lip into his mouth and tossed your head back, slightly picking up your pace, your eyes rolling back into your head as you rode the greek god beneath you.

your moans, the sound of skin slapping skin, and the music playing on your speaker echoed throughout your room. “fuck, dean, make your mistress come, sweet boy.” dean’s hand immediately flying to clit, rubbing circles. a moan left your lips and dean rubbed faster, your hand tangled in his hair as you leaned forward and smashed your lips together. a breathy moan left dean’s lips as you tugged on his short, dirty blond locks. “mistress,” he breathed, his other hand coming up to cup your breast, kneading your nipple. a cry leaving your lips as you felt the little rubber band in your stomach snap, your walls fluttering around dean.

“mistress, can i come? oh, god, please!” dean cried. “come for me, dean.” you huffed as you continued riding him. dean’s body stilled, his arms wrapping around you, hands splayed across your bare back. you sighed, helping him ride out his high.

after a minute or two, dean’s grip on you loosened. you gently pushed him to rest against the pillows, slowly, you climbed off his lap and he whined. you pressed a kiss to dean’s cheek to calm him. you pulled on your shirt and headed down the hall to the bathroom. you grabbed a wash rag and ran it under cool water before wringing it out and returning back to your room.

you sat on the bed and dean sighed, you ran the towel over his forehead and cheeks, then his thighs and his now soft member. you cleaned yourself as best as you could and tossed the towel on the floor. you pulled your shirt off and climbed into the bed next to dean. “lift your head for me,” you muttered and dean complied. you removed the tie and placed it on the nightstand. dean groaned and blinked a few times, adjusting to the light.

“how do you feel?” you asked and dean sighed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “i feel great, thank you, sweetheart.” you nodded and pulled him into your arms. you sat in silence, listening to victim of love by the eagles playing throughout the room. dean hummed along to the song and tightened his arms around your waist, his head tucked under your chin. you ran your hand up and down his back, your fingers tapping along with the beat to the song.

dean looked up at you, “i meant what i said in the kitchen,” you returned his gaze and opened your mouth to speak. “i’m done fighting against what i feel for you,” his voice and eyes were stern, “and what do you feel for me, dean?”

he pushed himself to sit up, “love,” he blushed. “i love you.” you smiled and leaned over to kiss him. “good, because i love you, too.” you spoke once you pulled away and dean grinned.

“awesome, that’s fucking awesome!” he laughed, pulling you in for another kiss. you smiled against his lips and tugged him closer.

taglist:

@starkxpotts / @breezy1415 / @multifandombackpack / @deanlenaz / @thewinchesterchronicles / @tameraneanwxves /

#stcky-rogers oneshot #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester smut #dean smut #dean x reader

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andromytta · 6 years

Text

What’s a Snookie?

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 20 | andromytta vs. @inter-ruptingmoose

Prompt: Ice Cream Cones

Ship: Claire Novak/Kevin Tran

Word Count: 1631

No Archive Warnings Apply. Tags:

Fluff and Humor

Snookie may be OOC

fanboy dean

boardw

Summary: Two families go on vacation to celebrate getting into Princeton. Two soon to be Ivy Leaguers realize they have a common passion.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498963

Written for @spngenrebingo Square Filled: Free Fluff

Claire Winchester-Novak was going to have the greatest two weeks of her life. Her dads were taking her and her best friend, Alex Hanscomb-Mills, to the Jersey Shore to celebrate her getting a full ride to Princeton. It also worked out well for Alex’s moms, who were in Europe taking a second honeymoon. Claire couldn’t think of a better way to spend the time between high school and college than with her favorite people in the world.

Three days into their trip, the four of them were walking along the boardwalk, as they had done the days previous. Claire and Dean were in the middle, with Castiel next to Dean and Alex next to Claire. Claire suddenly looks up at her dad and says, “Hey! Do you think we’ll be blessed with a Snookie sighting?”

“What’s a Snookie?” Castiel and Alex asked simultaneously.

Dean and Claire shared a love of trash TV that the others just didn’t get. Dr. Sexy, MD and Jersey Shore were their favorites to binge watch, and they were both fans of Snookie. When the reality show star had a guest role on Dr. Sexy, they wouldn’t stop talking about it for days. Clearly no one was paying attention.

“Actually, Kiddo,” Dean began as he pulled something up on his phone and held it up to her, “we are definitely getting a Snookie sighting today, and an autograph.”

Claire excitedly grabbed his phone out of his hand as she read the screen. “She’s doing a book signing? Here? At the boardwalk? And you’re taking me? You are the best dad ever!” She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek before handing his phone back.

“Hey, what am I, chopped liver?” Castiel asked from the other side of his husband.

“Ok, fine, you’re an awesome dad too,” Claire replied and kissed his cheek as well.

“Ugh. I think I’m going to puke!” Alex announced from Claire’s other side.

“Hey, just because Jody and Donna dumped you with us instead of taking you Europe is no reason to rain on our happy family parade, young lady,” Dean quipped.

Alex dropped her head in her hand and groaned. “Why do I even know you people?”

Claire slung an arm around her best friend’s shoulders. “Because you love me, and you know I come with dork dad baggage.”

“Hey, I thought we were awesome!” Dean protested.

Claire shrugged. “I’m a teenaged girl. My affections are fickle.”

“Yeah, yeah. Once I get you to Snookie, I’ll be awesome again.”

“It’s possible.”

***

Elsewhere on the boardwalk, Kevin Tran and his mother Linda were also taking a holiday to celebrate his own full ride to Princeton. Kevin was currently pleading with his mom to take him to the aforementioned bookstore.

“I can’t believe with your limited exposure to television for one hour a week, you spent it watching trash television! What else did you watch? That horribly inaccurate Dr. Sexy, MD? You could have been watching National Geographic.”

“Mo-om! I have to rest my brain somehow! Relaxation is just as important for neurological development as study is. Man cannot live on caviar alone!”

“Ok, fine, we’ll go see this Snookie. You did work hard all through high school, and you’ll be working even harder once you start college. I suppose you deserve your hobbies.”

“Great! Let’s go!” Kevin practically dragged his mom down the boardwalk towards the bookstore.

They made short work of their journey, and soon Kevin found himself standing in line to meet the reality star of his dreams. His mother was standing off to the side, trying to look stern, but failing miserably, her son’s joy bringing a smile to her face. Kevin was bouncing on the balls of his feet and trying to see the autograph table over the crowd, paying no mind to the line forming behind him.

Claire and Dean arrived around the same time, standing in line while Castiel and Alex stood off to the other side, rolling their eyes fondly. Claire had her back to the person in front of her as she was animatedly talking to Dean about their favorite Snookie moments. “Remember when she was on Dr. Sexy and she played a ghost, but being transparent didn’t take away from her sassiness and she was like…” Claire was gesturing wildly and didn’t notice when she took a step back and ran right into the back of Kevin Tran.

“Hey, watch it…” Kevin started just as Claire turned around to apologize.

“Oh, I’m so sorry…” The words trailed off as their eyes locked, blue to brown. Claire was the first to break the silence. “Um, hi. I’m Claire.” She offered her hand to him to shake.

He gulped and accepted the proffered hand. “Kevin, uh, my name…that’s my name.”

Claire smiled brightly at him. “Nice to meet you, Kevin.”

Dean not-so-subtly pulled their still clasped hands apart. “I’m Claire’s Dad. Nice to meet you,” he grumped as he shook hands with the stunned boy.

“Um…hi Claire’s Dad…” Panic started to fill his chocolate eyes as Dean continued to shake his hand aggressively.

“Dad, stop,” Claire ordered, removing his hand and pushing him back.

As the line crept forward, Claire engaged in small talk with the cute boy in front of her, much to Dean’s dismay. He tried to join the conversation multiple times, but backed off when Claire scowled at him, so he resigned himself to standing behind her and pouting. He wasn’t able to engage his daughter’s attention again until they were at the autograph table.

Claire was first. “Oh my God. You’re amazing, I love you so much. You were my favorite on Dancing With the Stars,” Claire gushed as her book was signed. “My dad brought me because I got into Princeton,” she continued on. Snookie signed her book “Congrats on the Ivy League. Love, Nicole.” Claire stared at her book as she was waiting for Dean.

“Uh, hi, um, Nicole. You’re so pretty,” he stammered awkwardly as he presented his own copy of her book.

Claire interrupted. “That’s my dad. Sorry he’s such an old skeezer.”

“I dunno, he’s kinda cute,” she replied as she started to sign. “You got a name, Daddio?”

“Dean. My name’s Dean.”

She finished signing and handed his book back. “Here you go, Hot Stuff.” She winked at him as he clutched the book to his chest and backed away.

Dean was so stunned by his interaction that he didn’t even notice when Claire wandered off with Kevin. In a daze, he found where Castiel and Alex had been waiting for them. “Snookie thinks I’m cute,” he said to Castiel.

“Well, that makes one of us,” his husband replied dryly.

“Shut up, you love me.”

“You’re lucky I do,” Cas said as he looked around for their daughter. “Dean, where’s Claire?”

Alex chuckled as she spoke up. “Over there with that cute boy she bumped into in the line.” She pointed to where the two were ducking out the door. “Oh great, now I’m stuck with the Dork Dads.”

***

Claire giggled as she and Kevin ducked out of the store, ditching their parents. “Hmmm, I guess I should feel bad stranding Alex with my dads,” she said as they made their way down the boardwalk.

“Alex? Is that your boyfriend?” Kevin asked nervously.

“No, Alex is a girl,” Claire replied vaguely.

“Oh, so your girlfriend?”

“Haha. No, just my best friend. More like a sister. My girlfriend and I broke up after her mom died and she had to move away.”

“So, you’re single?” Kevin fished for information.

“Yep. You?”

“Uh, yeah. Ever since my girlfriend went crazy and slit her roommate’s throat. I’m pretty sure she got possessed by a demon.”

“Wow. Creepy. So, what do you say we go get some ice cream?” Claire’s ability to gloss over the most uncomfortable situation with food was surely a habit she picked up from Dean.

“Oh, uh, ok. Sure.”

They walked to a little ice cream stand a few blocks away from the bookstore. Claire ordered the “Napoleon,” a giant waffle cone filled with five scoops of whatever flavors she wanted. Kevin paid, even though he didn’t get anything but water. They sat at a nearby bench and when Kevin tried to dip a spoon into Claire’s cone, she pulled it away.

“Dude! If you wanted ice cream, you should have ordered some!”

“But, I thought you were going to share. Especially when you asked me what kind of ice cream to get.”

“I was looking for a suggestion, not offering you my treat.”

“Rude! I bought it!” Kevin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ok, fine. You can have a bite. One bite, from this layer.” She pointed at the third scoop down, a blue one with multicolored bits throughout.

“Awesome, bubblegum. I always wanted to try that flavor.” Kevin helped himself to a hearty spoonful of the confection.

“Hey, not so much!” Claire protested with a laugh.

Kevin grinned at her and went in for another bite. “So, Claire, what would you say if I asked you out for dinner and movie?”

“I’d ask what’s for dinner and what movie?”

“Hmmm….” Kevin made a show of thinking deeply. “Burgers and the new Marvel film?”

“Make it Star Wars or no deal.”

“Done. Saturday night?”

“Done. We’re staying at the Palms, room 210. Pick me up at 7?”

“Hey, so are we. 310.”

Claire looked at him, shy for the first time. “We could walk back together?”

“Ok.” Kevin stood up and reached for her hand.

She let him pull her up and they were met with three pairs of stern parent eyes: blue, green, and brown. Alex stood off to the side with her arms crossed over her chest. “Busted,” she chuckled at them.

#spnrareshipcc #Claire/Kevin #Claire Novak/Kevin Tran #inter-ruptingmoose #appearance by snookie #ice cream cones #spngenrebingo #free fluff

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domstclair · 3 years

Text

Dirty Little Secret 🗡️Seb+Alex.

TITLE: Dirty Little Secret TIMEFRAME: Sometime in early February TAGGING: Alex Fairchild TOTAL: 1,921 words TRIGGERS: Thread references past drug uses and addiction. NOTES: Complete.

ALEX There was no way to truly avoid Sebastian. Several months ago, he appeared in class, looking every bit of prim and snark that he knew so many years ago. It was a relief to see a familiar face at first, but then he remembered the circumstances of their last meeting and had done his best to avoid Sebastian or at least not be alone with him if he could help it.

As far as Alex knew, no one else knew about his indiscretion which meant that Sebastian was keeping it a secret. Or maybe he forgot. No, not likely, but he could wish.

Alex was in the library elevator when Sebastian cornered him. He knew right away that Sebastian was coming too quickly for the doors to close on him and took a slow, resigned breath. "Hey," He greeted amiably, ignoring the pounding of his heart, "Going up?"

SEBASTIAN Sebastian was accustomed to hearing things. People were often too happy to talk about business that wasn't theirs. The rumors passed quietly to Sebastian had never been officially confirmed but people talked. That had already been one strike against Alex before he'd caught the other in his compromising position. Sebastian said nothing. It would appear, potentially, as loyalty to the Dominant. The truth was Sebastian liked having ammunition. He liked gathering it and keeping it until exactly the right moment for use.

He smirked as Alex asked his question. "Well, I'm not going down, that's for sure." An entendre. A bit of low hanging fruit but Sebastian could've been incredibly snide there if he'd have wanted.

"It's funny," said Sebastian. "I haven't seen you around much. You wouldn't happen to be avoiding me, would you?" Sebastian feigned innocence but they both knew what lay between them. "It was nice to know an old friend would be here when I arrived...if only I'd seen much of him." Sebastian's gaze lingered, then moved away to look politely up at nothing on the ceiling.

ALEX Alex sent Sebastian a flat look. Dumb joke. He was so much better than that. “Not at all,” He answered, the lie coming as easily as any truth, “You don’t graduate first in class by having much of a social life.” What would be a sad truth to some was a point of pride for him. There was a balance, he found, a very, very tenuous balance between work and play.

“That isn’t to say we shouldn’t find a time to hang out. Maybe after lacrosse practice or something.” Bait. Alex looked to Sebastian, a mask of polite imploring. It wouldn’t be hard to generate a conflict and bail on any day they planned to meet up, especially if there were others around. He’d rather jump through all these hoops than confront his past- a dirty addiction he left behind.

SEBASTIAN "Please," Sebastian scoffed, amusement on his features. He looked over to Alex. "As if Lowell's curriculum is taxing." He straightened up and adjusted his shirt. "I guess there's something to be said for having a natural talent for the subjects being taught." Alex had already boxed himself out of this category by saying he wasn't social due to studying hard. "Shame you have to while away your time. All work and no play makes Lexi a dull boy."

Sebastian's smile was comfortable and mischievous. This was his way. He often teased and dispensed his bon mots with no shortage of ease. Though he looked back toward Alex from the ceiling at the invitation to hang out after practice. Did he know what that often consisted of? Guys working off their adrenaline by having an orgasm or two? "What...you need a hand with your equipment?" Sebastian's gaze drifted pointedly down. "Interesting."

ALEX Alex held in an eye-roll at Sebastian's postulating. He wouldn't defend himself on a half-truth he made up to explain his absence. Their verbal jousting was something he missed about spending time with Sebastian, even when he ended up calling him "Lexi". He was the only one who did that.

He arched a brow at Sebastian's innuendo. "I'm not your type, St. Clair," He stated flatly, "I thought we'd get some drinks or something. You know, like friends do- you're familiar with the concept of friendship, aren't you? The kind of relationship where both parties remain clothed for the duration of the interaction."

SEBASTIAN Sebastian raised his brows. "You sound so sure. Shouldn't I be the one to decide that?" He didn't like others assuming what was best for him. Cassius would get the most leeway there but even so. Sebastian adored nothing less than utter control.

His features melted into something of a smirk. "What did I tell you? Dull boy." He quipped. "You're making me want to drag you out to a club. Loosen you up a bit." Another entendre. "You seem buttoned up." He took a few careful steps forward. The elevator dinged at their stop but Sebastian pressed the 'close door' button for a few seconds reprieve. "Maybe you just don't have the right something in your system?" He openly mused. Dusted an imaginary lint from Alex's shoulder and walked toward the now opening doors.

ALEX There was nothing he loved more than bossing around another Dom, especially Seb. He held onto Dominance like it was made out of sand.

He wasn’t sure why Seb was flirting with him as if he hadn’t been willfully avoiding him for the past several months. As if no time had passed at all. The creeping sense of anticipation when Seb paused the elevator. He held his breath as his friend put ice in his veins with words laced in heavy implication.

“Sebastian.” He took his arm to keep him from leaving and pushed the emergency stop on the elevator to hold it in place. “We should talk about... what happened.”

SEBASTIAN Sebastian was both surprised and not surprised to feel Alex's hand on his arm. He looked down at it and then back at Alex, a brief little smile accompanying the sniff of a laugh he gave. He turned back to face Alex. He was usually the one to call the shots. Usually the one to have a handle on the situation. Alex seemed to test that at every opportunity.

"What's there to talk about?" he asked, as though the secret were nothing. "Only thing that happened was I saw something I wasn't meant to. Just means you should be more careful, Lex." It was true, he should. Someone far worse than Sebastian could do far worse things with this information.

ALEX "I don't do that anymore," He said firmly, leveling Sebastian with a sober look, "It was just a phase, okay? I made some bad decisions, hit rock bottom and bounced back. It's all behind me now." Seb didn't need to know about the other rock bottoms after that since those were also far and well behind him.

"I'm not a junkie." It was his mantra. Alex needed to say it for his own benefit as much as he needed to say it to convince Sebastian of that truth. This was one of his best friends- he had to believe he wouldn't think he was any less of a good person for his past.

SEBASTIAN "That was a great speech. Really. A for effort. Narcotics Anonymous would be proud." Sebastian smiled serenely. He put his hands in his pockets. "But we all know what happens when you snort that fine powder up those cute little nostrils don't we?" Sebastian hadn't done hard drugs himself. He knew many in their social circle probably did. Many of their parents too.

"You may not be a junkie you could just as well be a high-functioning addict." Sebastian shrugged. "And what business is it of mine if you are? You make the decisions you want until you make one that has consequences you can't handle." That was the long and short of it. Though, he grew softer for just a minute. A sense of something hidden in his voice. "I just...hope you don't do something that you can't recover from." What might surprise them both to know? Sebastian meant it. Did Alex know where that line was?

ALEX "I'm not an addict," Alex insisted with rising intensity, "Not high-functioning, not rehabilitated- nothing. I haven't touched the shit in years. I'm clean." He set his jaw, brow furrowed as something shifted in Sebastian. He knew him too well not to be able to read the soften edges of his expression, the change in his tone.

"This is why I didn't say anything to you." His mouth twisted into a derisive smile, shaking his head. "Fine. Think whatever you want. Just don't tell anybody, okay? Can you at least do that?" That's what he should have started with. Nobody would understand his history with drug use- except maybe Cass who was actually there to see it.

SEBASTIAN "What?" Sebastian lifted his brows, pretend curiosity in his voice. "Don't tell anyone you're not an addict? Why would I need to do that?" He sniffed out another laugh. "You don't have a problem so there's nothing to worry about, right?" There was something there. A sense of shame around using, or something close to it, since Alex actually seemed to care if it got out. Maybe more. A fear? Sebastian wasn't sure.

"Look, it's like I said. I don't care. Do what you want." Sebastian shrugged. "Recreational users are a thing, I guess." He gave Alex a look. "If it becomes more than that, Fairchild, I'm not letting you take me down with you. So just know that." Maybe there was a little judgment from Sebastian about hard drug users. Maybe it just mattered since he had a face for that drug use now; and that that face was Alexander's. "This can be our little secret." He winked. "The next one may cost you."

ALEX ”Don’t be facetious.” It was quickly working on his nerve. Sebastian knew exactly what he was talking about, but he just wanted to twist words around to look smug and superior. As if Sebastian wouldn’t someday find himself in a similar position as Alex.

He frowned enough to tug in his dimple. “I’m not using. I just said-“ He stopped himself. This conversation was over. Alex hit the button to open the elevator door again, all while scowling at his supposed friend. “Get out.” He needed to go somewhere else. Just looking at Sebastian and his stupid little wink was going to keep him from studying like he planned. And still, he trusted his confidence on this matter. For now.

SEBASTIAN He could have held back a little. Sebastian didn't know why he wasn't buying that Alex wasn't using. Maybe its because Sebastian was suspicious that only someone who was using would need to convince a close friend that they weren't. Sebastian hadn't even made any real accusations. Just hinted at a previous situation. People tended to draw themselves out by making their own inferences.

Sebastian felt a flutter of something when Alex barked at--ordered--him to get out. Sebastian gave the barest of smiles. He walked into Alex's space and looked him in the eye. Then he curled his fingers into the nape of Alex's neck, stroking, then gripping tight, before he harshly brought their lips together. He bit down on Alex's bottom lip. Kissed. Then pulled back. "Don't tell me what to do." He turned and walked out, going about his day and leaving Alex to his.

FINIS

#lowellassorted #para: all #para: alexander.#para: dirty little secret.

0 notes

caindoglover · 6 years

Text

Cover

When The Darkness Comes by Shelby Merry is what I listened to while writing this. Honestly way more fitting for an aftermath to the freaking Claire incident, but my brain will not get on track and just do it already. I swear I'll get there though. lol

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12767841/16/The-Creepslayerz

Enjoy!

They go together, but very much apart. They enter the arcade twenty minutes apart and never play the same game at the same time. They don’t even linger within the vicinity of the other, usually a couple games away. Occasionally they’ll waste money on a game and only half play in order to watch the other from afar, but it just isn’t the same as those days they spend gaming at Eli’s house. It causes a painful pang in their hearts, but they know better than to do or say anything. They simply continue the routine for an hour, until they are running pretty low on coins.

Eli wanders toward the claw machine. It is the only one he hasn’t played and the only one he has no chance of winning. He stares wistfully into the container, surveying the tiny stuffed creatures from a minion to darth vader tightly packed together. He sighs. The odds are stacked high against him and anyone foolish enough to waste their money on it.

Steve grins and chuckles to himself as he wins yet another game. “Too good.” He spins around and struts to the center of the room to check and see if there are any other games he wants to play. He is pretty sure he has played them all now. Beat them all too. That’s when he notices Eli. He smirks. The dork probably wants one of those silly toys. It’s such a childish whim at their age. And that alone should be enough to keep Steve from going anywhere near El right now, but he’s gotten a little too comfortable with just walking up to his friend outside of school, and so he does just that. He stops just short of speaking, half afraid someone might wonder why he is talking to Eli and half because he doesn’t want to break the peaceful moment.

Unfortunately it is broken only a second later. “Check it out,” a boy jeers as they walk up. “Looks like little Eli’s still into dolls.”

Eli starts and glares at the boy.

A laugh bellows from the opposite direction as another boy comes and leans on the machine. “Cause the only reasons guys play this is for their girls. And I know he ain’t got a girlfriend.”

Eli ducks his head his lips curl up in a pout. “I could have a girlfriend. You don’t know.”

They burst out laughing. “You hear that? He could have one, he says.”

Eli clenches his fist and does his best to scowl back at them, but there’s no denying the hurt that flickers in his eyes. He wishes so badly to have Steve here to rescue him.

One boy’s lips twist into a malicious grin as he pins Eli beneath his black stare. “What do you think, Steve?”

Steve snaps to attention. What? No. His eyes widen. He knew he should have never wandered so close to Eli. Mistake number one. They kept their distance in public for a reason damn it. But now he has to answer. His heart beats faster. He can’t just ignore a direct question, especially from someone he generally hangs with at school. Generally picks on Eli with. He swallows hard. This could be it. He could choose to make this the moment he breaks cover. No longer cares what people think of him. But when he opens his mouth, “Probably a queer.”

Eli gapes and his heart plummets.

The boys continue to watch Steve expectantly.

Steve doesn’t want to, his heart rebels against his words, but he has to keep going, “I mean,” he scoffs, “have you seen the way he looks at Jim. Or acts around him for that matter.”

The boys cackle.

Eli is painfully short of breath and he struggles to keep his hands from trembling as Steve’s words sink in. The laughter echoes in his head and he feels himself shrinking second by second. His stomach twists itself into knots and tears blur his vision. He isn’t sure how long he can hold it together. He needs to get out. Out. Out. He bolts.

There is a pang in Steve’s heart as he watches Eli flee. He couldn’t see Eli’s face, but he sensed that Eli was more upset than usual. The faint quiver about his body was especially telling. He wants so much to go after him, to make sure his friend is alright, but he has a feeling going empty handed would be mistake number two.

So he approaches the claw machine. It isn’t much, but Eli was looking at them so it’s something.

One boy smirks. “Winning one for your girl?”

Steve blinks and hesitates for a beat. “Yeah.” He smiles and goes along with it. It’s easier that way.

…

It takes Steve way too many tries to get the stupid thing, especially with those idiots hovering over his shoulders and backseat gaming, particularly when they boo him for missing. Even once he manages it he has to endure a barrage of questions as to why in the world he’d go for the Star Wars one instead of something like a cute pink bunny. Was his girl seriously into that kind of stuff? He rattles off answers through grit teeth before getting out of there as fast as possible. He doesn’t have time for this. He needs to get to Eli.

He is so focused that he drives right up to the house, only realizing he broke their vehicle distance rule when he opens the door to find himself face to face with Eli’s mother. She pins him beneath a stare so full of hate that it makes his blood run cold. For a moment he is frozen, unsure of what to do next. Only able to stare into the eyes of the beast.

Angie sneers and turns hard on her heel. It’s the only way to hold her tongue. She liked this boy well enough. He was good Eli. At least she thought. But her boy just ran to his room crying with Steve’s name on his lips. And it’s hard not to judge that. And that’s why she walked away. To give Steve one last chance.

Steve lets out a breath and the tension drains from him. That…was a terrible sign. He casts a glance toward the stairs and his concern for Eli deepens. Eli’s mother doesn’t get mad, not like that. And she has never looked at him that way. Did he really upset Eli that badly? He shuffles up the stairs, stopping just in front of Eli’s room. The door towers over him as he stares, fear seizing control of his limbs and causing him to hesitate. It’s something he’s never felt when faced with Eli’s room. He swallows hard, swallows the anxiety, and enters.

Eli lifts his narrowed eyes to meet Steve’s, searing him with a scornful gaze.

Steve is taken aback, but the scorn is not enough to conceal Eli’s deepest emotion, and Steve is rattled to the core by the sheer amount of pain packed into those normally bright green eyes. Now they are puffy and coated by a sheen of tears. There is a slight quiver about his friend as well. “Eli,” he breathes, taking tentative steps forward.

“You ass,” he says through grit teeth. Says what he wanted to say the instant Steve said those horrible things about him but was too afraid, too emotionally volatile. Fragile. Still is. He can feel his throat tighten even now.

Steve sits next him. He frowns as he drums his fingers against the small toy in his hands. “You know I didn’t mean what I said, right?” His brow knit together. “But we’ve got to keep our cover. Otherwise people will figure out what we do.”

“When are you going to admit it? Just admit it already,” his voice is tight and cracks at the edges. His lips tremble along with his hands.

Steve stares blankly at him. “Admit what?” He searches Eli’s face desperately. His friend is falling apart at the seams and he can’t understand why. His words never did this before. And he even went so far as to call him a waste of space once!

“It’s not about cover. It’s never been about cover!” Eli yells. “You’re ashamed to be seen with me. For people to know you’re my friend,” he breaks into sobs and the tears spill down his face.

Steve’s eyes widen and his heart beats double time. What does he do? What the hell is he supposed to do? His mind goes into a frenzy. “N-No, that’s not true.” He reaches up to lay a hand on Eli’s shuddering shoulder.

Eli smacks it away. “Don’t lie to me.” He only cries harder, and every word stutters out of him, “I’m not stupid. You’ve hurt me enough today. Don’t call me stupid too.”

Steve swallows the lump in his throat as he watches Eli carefully, hung up on what exactly to do. What can he do? “Eli…”

Eli struggles to steady himself, wiping an arm over his eyes. “I-I thought I could live with it. Being…being your dirty little secret. But then,” his lip quivers and he tears up again. “You went and told them. You told. You knew how I felt about Jim. But you…” he buries his face in his hands and sobs harder.

Steve feels tears prick at his eyes and his heart cracks. He feels sick with himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice wavering. It’s all he can find to say that isn’t some feeble excuse. He could say again and again how badly he needs this – his stupid image. How it gives him power, a sense of being more important than he could ever dream of being anywhere else, makes him special. But for Eli, having a friend who is not afraid to admit it, that is just as important to him as Steve’s image. So he knows better than to even try. Instead he simply gets up, slowly, sets the toy on the bed next to Eli, and walks away.

Eli gnashes his teeth, barely swallowing a scream as he seizes the Vader plush and throws it at the wall.

It bounces off the wall and rolls back to his feet.

Eli crumbles, sinking from the bed and to his knees on the floor. “I hate you,” he says through his sobs. He grabs the plush and squeezes. “I hate you so much. I just-just…” he shakes his head. “Don’t understand.” He hugs the plush close to his chest and presses his face into it, his tears soaking the cotton. “Why am I not enough?”

K, remember the cute art that I said inspired last chapter? It was actually a claw machine and not a carnival. So I had it in my head boys would pick on Eli for looking at the toys in the machine, Steve would see it, win him something, and give it to him at his house to make him feel better. Cute, right? Just like the art. But then...my brain decided to angst it up. And Steve had to go and be an insecure jerk. I felt rotten getting rid of the cute completely by going with this horrible plot and so the short carnival chapter happened. Yeeeeah. In case the toy factor felt similar, that's why.

I hope you liked the Eli angst. Don't get that as much as Steve angst. Also this needs to be a thing that gets covered in the show later if Steve tries to keep their friendship on the downlow for too long. Cause, like, Steve is probably legit Eli's only friend. Yet he is ashamed to be seen as his friend in public. And that just hurts to think about. At some point Eli would need to get upset by it too, even if nothing drastic like this happened.

Also if you don't think Eli has a big crush on Jim then you are wrong and that is all there is to it.

#trollhunters #creepslayerz #steve palchuk #eli pepperjack #steli #if you want it to be steli #it can go either way tbh #my fanfics #my posts

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vampamber · 7 years

Text

“Trick Or Treat!” (Inktober Day 2: Children)

Title: Trick Or Treat!

Author: VampAmber

Pairing: Dean/Cas

Summary: After getting hit with a witch's curse that causes de-aging, what Dean wants to do more than anything is go trick or treating. He wants Cas to go with him too, of course, because he just knows Cas is going to love it. And since Castiel can't say no to Dean, no matter his age, he's stuck wearing fake wings and a halo. Good thing it's only treats tonight, the one at the end probably being the best.

Word Count: 1872

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12247962

“We should be focusing on reversing whatever spell that witch cast, not goofing off,” Sam complained as he poured through yet another book of lore from the bunker’s vast library.

“I agree,” Castiel said as scanned the pages of a different tome. “But he is being rather insistent, and it’s becoming somewhat distracting.”

“I wanna go trick or treating, Sammy!” Yelled Dean as he ran into the room, his four year old body full of far too much energy. “I wanna costume, and I wanna get candy, and I wanna do it now!” They’d been dealing with this for over an hour already.

“Dean, we need to be fixing what the witch did,” Castiel scolded him.

“You’re not the boss of me, Cas,” Dean pouted. “You’re the same age as me, so you can’t be.” The freckle faced child stuck out his tongue at the angel before running back off again. Castiel just sighed and turned the page, his legs dangling in the air because they weren’t long enough to touch the floor now.

Whatever the spell was that had hit Dean and Castiel, causing them to de-age, had also apparently worked on their mental ages as well. The angel was quite certain that Jimmy, were he still in this vessel, would probably have been acting the same as Dean right now.

“Maybe we should just take him?” Sam suggested, closing his book. “We’re obviously not getting anywhere right now, and I doubt taking a break for a few hours would really affect this one way or the other. Besides, he didn’t get that much of a childhood, since everything started around this age. Maybe this is a temporary good thing?”

Castiel closed his book as well. “I didn’t think of it that way, Sam,” he said, still not used to hearing his voice come out so high pitched. This wasn’t the first time he was in a child’s body, but Claire hadn’t been quite this young for the short amount of time he used her body, so this was all quite new to him. “Dean could certainly use more happy memories.”

“So, to the store then?” Sam asked, and Castiel nodded. “Hopefully there are some costumes left still,” he muttered before calling to Dean.

“Oh boy, trick or treating,” Dean said from the backseat of the Impala, bouncing up and down no matter how many times Sam told him to sit still. “This is gonna be so much fun! You’re gonna love it Cas, I promise.”

“Dean, I’m not actually a child, so I have no reason to go trick or treating,” Castiel said, which was apparently the worst possible choice since Dean immediately burst into tears. “You can still go, though,” Castiel promised, trying to sound as soothing as possible.

“Wanted ta go with you, Cas,” Dean said in between sniffles. He rubbed at his eyes, though tears were still leaking out.

“Of course I’ll go with you, Dean. I’m sorry,” the angel said, not wanting Dean to start crying again. He really hoped they could lift this curse soon, because children were a lot more difficult to deal with than he had originally imagined.

“You’re gonna love it,” Dean said, already back to his smiling, happy self.

Just as Sam had expected, the costume selection at the store was rather sparse, having already been picked over by the other children and families going trick or treating that night. But Dean still rushed over, all excited energy and laughter. Sam and Castiel followed behind him, but Dean was already holding up a dark colored costume by the time they got there. “I wanna be Batman!” He shouted, holding the clothing up like he had won a prize.

Sam smiled, obviously amused at how Dean was acting. “Sure, if it fits we’ll get that one.”

Then Dean rushed off to another section of costume pieces, and was back in seconds holding a plastic bag filled with black feathers. “And Cas can be an angel.”

“Dean, I…” Cas started to say before Dean cut him off.

“Please, Cas?” He begged, giving the real angel a pleading look that would have looked completely ridiculous had he still been an adult. “They’re nowhere near as pretty as your real, actual wings, but they’re kinda close,” he continued, holding up the package awkwardly to show off the picture of a little girl wearing them.

Castiel felt himself blush, even though he didn’t fully understand why. This wasn’t the first time he’d been complemented, or even the first time Dean had complimented him. Yet he could still feel the heat staining his cheeks. “Thank you,” he said softly, feeling more awkward than he usually did. He accepted the wings from Dean, who was smiling at him in a way he’d never seen him smile before, and tried not to let his disgust show when he saw a little plastic halo was included with the wings. Why humans ever decided angels had such a silly thing as halos, he would never understand. At least it didn’t come with a harp.

The Batman outfit ended up fitting perfectly, much to Dean’s delight, and after grabbing two special orange plastic buckets to collect the candy in, they were on their way back to the bunker. Dean went right back to jumping around in the back seat until Sam threatened to not take them if he didn’t settle down. Dean was even more well behaved than when he was an adult for the rest of the ride. Castiel would never understand children, even if it was Dean.

Since the bunker was located quite a distance out of town and had no neighbors, they left early enough to drive to one of the suburbs in the nearest city. Dean was still being well behaved, though every so often Castiel could hear him say, in a gruff voice, “I’m Batman.” Since Metatron had given him all of his pop culture knowledge, Castiel knew enough to know that Dean was imitating the character, but he was unsure what appeal it held.

He was doubly unsure why anybody would ever want to wear fake wings like the ones he had on his back right now. Even through his shirt, they itched, and they barely resembled the real thing. As soon as Dean wasn’t looking, Castiel was planning on ‘losing’ the halo, as well. But at least the look of awe that Dean had given him when he stepped out of his room had been worth it. And when Dean had stuttered out “You look so awesome,” Castiel had found himself blushing again.

The angel was shaken out of his thoughts when he felt the car stop and Sam announced, “Well, here we are, guys. Ready for some candy?”

“Yeah!” Dean shouted from the back seat, already scrambling for the door handle. Castiel climbed out of the Impala more slowly, but then Dean grabbed his hand and yanked him along, explaining how trick or treating worked as they headed towards the first house.

The lessons didn’t seem to stick, though, because more often than not Castiel forgot to say “trick or treat” when he was supposed to. Dean would elbow him in the ribs to remind him, but thankfully most of the people passing out candy just thought his awkwardness ‘adorable’ instead of strange.

“They’re so cute,” a girl in her early twenties told Sam after giving Castiel and Dean their candy. “Are they yours?”

“Uh, no,” Sam stumbled over his words, the question somewhat unexpected. He recovered quickly though. “That one’s my brother, and that one’s his friend,” he explained as he pointed to each child. Both things were technically true.

“Best friend,” Dean corrected his little brother, pulling Castiel in for a tight side hug.

A second girl walked up behind the first and hugged her from behind. “Aww, they’re so cute, just like we were back then,” she said, laying her head on the first girl’s shoulder.

The first girl laughed. “Yeah, they are, aren’t they? You guys gonna get married, too?” It was then that Castiel noticed they both had matching rings, which usually indicated a married couple.

Castiel didn’t know how to respond, but it didn’t matter because Dean apparently did. “Yep,” he said proudly, squeezing Castiel even tighter. “Cuz I’m in love with him.” Castiel froze while the girls both giggled. They told Castiel and Dean again how cute they were, and added a second handful of candy to each of their buckets before closing the door. Dean started to hop down the stairs, but Castiel was still frozen to the spot. Sam was also unmoving, staring at Dean.

“Hey, you guys comin’?” Dean called from the sidewalk when he finally noticed that he was alone.

Sam jogged to catch up, but Castiel could barely handle anything above a walk. Had Dean meant what he said? The angel went through the motions for the next few houses, though his mind was elsewhere, playing what Dean had said over and over, trying to figure out what it had meant. Was it just because they were children, or was it how Dean felt even when an adult? Castiel would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t attracted to the hunter, hadn’t been attracted to him for years now. From what he understood of romantic love, it was definitely what he felt towards Dean. But never had he thought his feelings might be reciprocated.

When their buckets were both full of candy, they all headed back to the Impala. Castiel stopped Dean before he climbed into the back seat. “Did you mean what you said back there?” He asked, hoping Dean was old enough to understand. Dean nodded. “Even when you’re an adult?” Dean nodded again. “Why did you never say anything?”

“I was scared,” Dean admitted, blushing a little himself now. Then he looked at Castiel and smiled. “Dunno why now, though. It’s not really scary. Not like demons or ghosts or monsters.”

Castiel could feel tears well up in his eyes, he was so happy. “I love you too, Dean,” he said, never thinking he would be able to say it out loud. Then Dean did something even more unexpected, and leaned in to kiss Castiel. It was a quick peck on the lips, completely innocent, but probably meant everything when you were only four years old.

They were interrupted by Sam calling out of the open car window, “As glad as I am that you two guys finally got your heads out of your asses and admitted your feelings for each other, we need to get back to the bunker. I’m sure Dean should probably be in bed soon or something.”

“Don’t wanna go to bed,” Dean pouted, back to being a normal child again.

“Tough,” Sam said, turning the car on. “Now get in already.”

“Meanie,” Dean muttered under his breath, before opening up the door. “Since we’re boyfriends now, you wanna ride back here with me, Cas?”

Castiel nodded. “I’d like that, Dean.”

“And can I have your Snickers? They’re my favorite.”

“Of course, Dean.” Never, in his very long life, had Castiel ever been more thankful that witches existed than right at this moment.

#inktoberbunker #fanfiction #destiel #kid fic #de-aging #fluff

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peopleandrhythm · 7 years

Text

S2E2: In the Wrong Place and at the Wrong Time

This episode contains two musical cues. When you come upon a hyperlinked phrase, please click the link to be taken to a YouTube video that will play a song chosen to accompany that scene.

Klaus is a man on a mission, walking briskly through the compound with a look of intent on his face. He’s just about make his way down into the courtyard when a voice stops him. “Dad?”

He turns to see his daughter approaching, smiling nervously. “Hope?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He frowns. “Could it wait, luv? I’m in a bit of rush.”

“It’s just—I really want to take my girlfriend out on a date, you know, because I love her and she moved away from her home to be with me and she’s basically the greatest person I’ve ever met, but I don’t know where to go. In town. On a date.” She wrinkles her nose. “I know this is awkward, but if you have any, like, recommendations…”

“Absolutely not.”

Taken aback by the strong response, Hope says slowly, “Okay…I figured you’d know an art gallery or something, but I guess I could always just ask Rebekah.”

Klaus sighs. “No, I mean…” He steps closer and puts his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “You can’t go on a date with River.”

Hope looks askance. “It’s 2030, Dad. Girls have been able to date each other for a long time.”

“I’ve gotten word that the vampires are quite…distressed by your decision to send one of their own to the Penitentiary. It is unsafe for you to be out without protection.”

“Um, I’m a witch, and River has a moonlight ring now. We’re hardly unprotected.”

“Hope, I—” Klaus squeezes her shoulder and then lets go, his arm falling to his side. “It’s too dangerous.” He turns and walks away.

“Hang on!” He turns back around. Bouncing earnestly on the balls of her feet, Hope asks, “Could you guys, I don’t know, clear out for a night, then? It’s hard to be romantic with your girlfriend when you have the world’s biggest family cramping your style.”

Klaus’s eyes flick upward as if begging some deity for patience, and then he sighs, “Fine. Your mother, your aunts, your uncle, and I will find an elsewhere to be tonight.”

Hope beams. “Thanks, Dad!” Then she disappears through a door, and Klaus gives a small shake of his head before going down the stairs.

In a familiar, darkened bar, Josh sits alone, three glasses into a bottle of Jack. His phone keeps buzzing in his pocket, incoming texts from Marcel, but he’s ignoring them, just like he’s been doing all week. There’s some slow blues song playing overhead, easy enough to tune out. Less easy to ignore are the quiet voices in conversation on the opposite side of the room, past the pool tables and jukebox. Josh can’t help himself; he focuses just a little, and suddenly he can here the small group of vampires as if they were sitting right next to him.

“It’s bullshit,” one says. “Just bullshit.”

“Bitch is like what, seventeen? The hell she knows about right and wrong, about justice?” There’s the clink of ice in a thick-bottomed glass.

“That witch bitch was trying to kill him,” the first voice argues. “And he’s not allowed to protect himself?”

“Marcel never woulda let this shit happen if he was still in charge,” a new voice adds.

The first voice again. “Man, screw Marcel. He just rolled over for a kid. Not that that’s new.”

“At least Davina Claire wasn’t a damn Mikaelson.”

“Or a Crescent.”

“This whole new system is just bullshit.” The first voice sighs. “We were all better off back when we were in charge, when the wolves were off in the sticks and the witches knew their place. Now we’re all supposed to bow down to some kid who don’t know shit?” He scoffs. “Bullshit.”

“Bullshit,” a few other voices echo.

Josh lets the voices fade away, focuses back on the drink in his hand. He knows he should shut them up, should let them know exactly what happens to those who question Marcel Gerard. But he’s tired, and three glasses deep, and his phone keeps buzzing, and so he just lets it all go.

River steps into the courtyard and freezes. “Um…” She looks up in wonder at the yards of fairy lights wound around the courtyard, casting everything in a warm, soft glow. She lets her backpack fall to the ground with a thud. “Hello?”

“Hey!” River looks over to see Hope coming out of the kitchen, her hands behind her back. She’s dressed in a massively oversized Tulane sweatshirt and a pair of boyshorts. “Welcome home!”

River lets out a little laugh. “What is going on? Where is everyone?”

“It’s date night, so I kicked ‘em out.” Hope’s smile is playful.

“Date night?”

“Mhm. We’ve got the whole place to ourselves.”

“If it’s date night, why are you in pajamas?”

“Because it’s not just any date night. It’s a River and Hope date night. And you know what that means.”

River’s eyes narrow. “Getting drunk and dancing to Beyoncé in our underwear?”

Hope’s grin widens, and she reveals the two glasses of wine she’s been hiding behind her back. Stretching one out to her girlfriend, she replies, “Getting drunk and dancing our asses off to Beyoncé in our underwear.”

River takes the glass. “God I love redheads.” She downs her glass in one giant swig and then sets it down so she can yank her shirt over her head.

When Freya pushes open the door to Rousseau’s, already packed with half-drunk tourists, her eyes immediately find Amaya’s. She smiles, and the bartender beams in return. “Hey!”

Freya finds a clear spot and takes a seat at the bar. “Hope you’re not too busy for one more.”

“For you?” There’s something mischievous about Amaya’s smirk. “Never.” She snags a bottle of tequila and pours a shot. “Glad you came back. I could use a local face among all these out-of-towners.”

“You’re an out-of-towner yourself,” Freya argues, handing opening for the shot glass Amaya slides to her.

“True.” Amaya takes a credit card from a customer and begins to tap on a tablet. “But at least I know not to party like one.”

“Fair enough.” Freya knocks the shot back easily. “So, how were your classes this week?”

“Oh, boring.” After handing the card back to the customer, she refills Freya’s shot. “Mostly reading so far, which is to be expected while studying linguistic anthropology.”

Freya makes a sympathetic noise. “This is why I gave up on my education a long time ago.”

“Not like you need it.” Freya tilts her head in confusion, and Amaya begins to chew on her lip. “Okay, I may have asked around about you. Cute girl with a huge family who can drop a hundred-dollar tip on a couple of glasses of vodka?” She shrugs. “I was curious.”

Freya studies her shot glass very carefully. “And what did you find out?”

“Mostly just that the Mikaelson family is a force to be reckoned with in New Orleans, and apparently, if I know what’s good for me, I’ll stay far, far away.” Freya’s eyes flick up in surprise. Amaya’s staring back at her, gaze unwavering. “But I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.”

“No.” Freya downs her second shot, eyes still locked with Amaya’s. “No, nor am I.”

River’s on the first-floor balcony, her fourth glass of rosé in hand, gripping the rail as she works her way low to the ground. Hope’s spelled her phone so that the music is blasting throughout the compound without the aid of a stereo. Hope herself is on the edge of the fountain, her empty wine glass beside her as she twists and rocks to the beat. She crooks a finger at her girlfriend, and after polishing off her glass, River hurls herself over the railing to land gracefully on her feet, barely shaken. Hope wolf-whistles, and River takes a bow. Then she dances over to Hope, and the two throw their arms around each other, pressed close together as they dance.

Then Hope pulls away, hopping down from the fountain and dancing away. She’s moving backward, smiling a playful smile back at her girlfriend. She backs up toward the entryway, and turns to motion for River to follow her—and then there’s a low thwap sound, and she freezes.

Facing the dark entryway, Hope slowly looks down. Sticking out from her stomach is an arrow, blood already dripping from its shaft. Eyes impossibly wide, Hope look back up, where she can barely make out a figure shrouded in shadow. She turns her head to look at River, and then she collapses to the ground.

With an ear-piercing scream, River bolts over to her girlfriend. “Hope, oh my god, Hope!” She crashes to her knees, hands shaking as she tries to assess the wound. “What the—” River looks up and sees the man standing in the entryway. “What the hell?”

That’s when the man turns and runs, heading for the open gate. River’s too stunned to move, but as the man turns the corner to disappear onto the street, she notices a long, curved scar along the side of his neck.

Elijah’s back is straight as he sits at a rickety wooden table. He can barely hear himself think through the impossibly loud twang of banjos and guitars; the country bar around him is wall-to-wall with flannel shirts and steel-toed boots, and he has never felt more out of place in his thousand-year existence. He watches the bar patrons with a look of mild interest on his face, as if he were a sociologist observing a foreign population.

Hayley bounces back from the bar with two glasses and a full bottle of Jim Beam in her hands. She’s at least dressed more appropriately for the venue; unlike Elijah, who rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt and left the suit jacket at home, Hayley’s wearing cut-off jean shorts and a form-fitting blue flannel shirt with the top three buttons undone. “Drink up,” she says, slamming the alcohol onto the table. Elijah’s eyes widen as the wood creaks dangerously. “I have a feeling you’re going to need this a lot more than I do.”

“When I said I wanted to take you out for an evening, I have to say that I did not imagine…” His eyes wander until they fall on two large men shotgunning PBR Tallboys in the corner. “…this.”

“Don’t be so elitist, Elijah.” Hayley pours them a few fingers each. “It’s time you expanded your horizons a little.”

“Hayley, I have been to every country and continent on this earth, I have sampled every cuisine, I have studied countless subjects at universities throughout time. My distaste for this…music and the stench of tobacco isn’t elitism. It’s self-preservation.”

Hayley rolls her eyes. “You know you didn’t have to come.”

“No no.” Elijah throws a hand up in surrender, spinning his glass of whiskey. “I asked you to pick the place. Not quite sure why you chose this particular venue…”

“Mostly to see that uncomfortable look on your face.” Hayley grins.

“At least one of us is having fun.”

“C’mon.” She knocks back her drink and stands up. “Let’s dance.”

Elijah’s eyebrows raise in disbelief. “Are you asking me to dance?”

“Well, I got you into a bar with a singing fish on the wall, so apparently tonight’s the night for miracles. Are you coming or what?”

Elijah looks at her proffered hand for a moment before letting out a deep sigh and taking it. He allows himself to be dragged into a small throng of dancers. Hayley immediately pulls Elijah in by the belt loops, and he obliges by settling his hands on her waist. Hayley starts to dance, tugging Elijah’s hips to the beat of the song. Her hand snakes up to the back of his neck, and she brings his face closer to hers. Her body moves easily to the music, much more familiar with the stylings of country than Elijah’s. After a verse, though, he gets into it, letting himself sway with her, keeping her close to him as the bass pumps.

“See?” Hayley says into his ear. “This is fun.”

“You’re fun,” Elijah clarifies, and Hayley throws her head back and laughs.

Just as the song is reaching its end, Hayley’s phone buzzes in her back pocket. She steps away, Elijah’s hand chasing her hip, and pulls it out. “That’s weird. It’s River.” She frowns and puts the phone to her ear. “River?” Her eyes blow wide, mouth falling agape as she looks up at Elijah in horror.

Elijah bursts through the bedroom door, Hope’s unconscious body in his arms. Hayley and River are right behind him, flying to the opposite side of the bed as he lays her atop the comforter. He wraps his hand around the shaft of the arrow protruding grotesquely from her abdomen, and River just manages to flinch away before he yanks it out and tosses it aside. Then he rips at his own wrist with his teeth and presses it to her lips.

“Come on, Hope,” Hayley breathes, pulling River into her arms.

Elijah pulls his arm away, leaving a smear of dark blood across her still lips. He peels back the torn, bloody fabric of her sweatshirt and curses “She’s not healing.”

Hayley snatched the discarded arrow up from Hope’s bed and sniffs the tip. “Vervaine,” she snarls. “Bastard thought she was a vampire.”

“But why isn’t she healing?” River cries. “You—you gave her your blood, she should be healing.”

“I don’t know,” Elijah says, too still. “I don’t know.”

Hope wakes up with a gasp. She’s in her bedroom, lying atop the made bed. A hand presses automatically to her stomach; her fingers catch on the hole in her sweatshirt, but there is no arrow—no pain, either.

She swings her feet onto the floor, and notices for the first time that the world seems off. The colors of her room seem washed out, as if she were standing in an old photograph. There’s no sound; even her own breath is utterly silent. She pads to the door, planning to explore the compound, when a voice calls out, “Hello, Hope.”

Hope whips around in surprise. “Oh my god!”

There’s a woman standing by her balcony, smiling apologetically. She’s wearing a long, white dress, and her flaxen hair falls to her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Her voice is soft, and oddly familiar. “I only wish to talk.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Hope says. “Where am I?”

“You are where the ancestors dwell.”

“The ancestors? Then I…” Her hand presses against where her wound should be once more. “…Am I dead?”

“Not quite. I am holding you here only long enough for us to have a conversation.”

“A conversation about what?”

The woman quirks an eyebrow. “You’ve been ignoring us, Hope Mikaelson. It’s time you listened.”

Hayley’s back is against the headboard, Hope’s head cradled in her lap. Klaus rushes into the room, eyes wild. “What happened?” He kneels beside his daughter’s bed, gently taking her hand into his.

Across the room, River, now wrapped in a blanket, stands with Rebekah and Freya, each still dressed in the outfits they wore for their respective nights out on the town. The sisters have an arm each around the shaking girl. River sniffs loudly. “He shot her. He just…came in and shot her.” Rebekah runs a soothing hand up and down her arm.

Klaus suddenly appears in front of River, towering over her. “Who was he?”

River recoils in fear, and Rebekah scolds, “She is not to blame for this, Nik! Leave her be!”

“Quiet, Rebekah,” Klaus snaps. Then, to River, “What did you see?”

Voice barely above a whisper, River says, “He was in shadow, so I couldn’t see much, but…he had a scar, on his neck.” She traces a long line along the column of her own neck with a finger. “It reflected the light form the lamp outside. I saw it as he ran.”

Klaus stares at her for a long moment, as if doubting her truthfulness. Then he twists away, storming back toward his daughter. “Why isn’t she healing?”

“She is part vampire,” Freya says. “If the arrow was laced with vervaine…”

“He must have been coming for one of us,” Elijah proposes, hand on Hayley’s shoulder. “He must have thought she was a vampire herself.”

Everyone is quite for a moment, mulling that thought over. Then Klaus argues, “Vervaine doesn’t explain why the wound hasn’t healed. She’s not a full vampire, and Elijah fed her his blood.”

“Let me try something.” Freya crosses the room and perches on the edge of the bed beside her niece. She grabs Hope’s hand and closes her eyes in concentration. After a minute, “I can feel her. She’s still in there but…” She opens her eyes. “It’s faint. As if she’s miles away.”

Klaus takes her other hand. “Come back to us, Hope.”

“I’m not ignoring anyone,” Hope argues, the bed between her and the woman in white.

“We can feel you pushing us out, Hope. We chose you to be an Advocate, not to put up a wall between us.”

“But you chose me,” Hope insists. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“The ancestors chose you for this task because of the goodness we saw in you. We believe that you more than any witch in this city can listen to our concerns and make the right choices for our living descendants.”

“And that’s flattering, honestly, but that doesn’t change the fact that having centuries of dead witches in my head is driving me crazy.”

“Because you aren’t listening.” The woman’s voice becomes exasperated. “We are trying to talk to you, to share our concerns, to warn you!”

“Warn me? Warn me about what?”

The woman sighs. “There is a new danger in New Orleans.”

“Yeah, I sort of guessed when I got shot.”

Unimpressed by the quip, the woman continues, “The threat comes from outside the city, but it will consume our communities, setting them aflame from the inside.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Hope says. “Could you, I don’t know, get more specific?”

“We only see what we see. We will tell you in the future if you stop shutting us out.”

“I’ll try my best.”

The woman turns her head as if listening to a far-off sound. “It is time for you to return. Much longer with us and you shall remain here forever.”

“Yeah, no thanks.” Hope walks around the bed to the woman. “But, um. Thanks for the warning.”

“Of course, Hope Mikaelson.” The woman raises her hand. “Oh, and Hope? If you could, I’d like you to pass a message to my son.” Then she gently taps Hope’s forehead, and the world dissolves into bright white light.

Hope jerks upright, gasping and clawing for something stable. She catches her mother’s arm, which pulls her in tight to her chest. Everyone closes in; River tears herself away from Rebekah and rushes to the bed. “Hope!”

Hayley presses her face into Hope’s hair. “Are you okay?”

Breath slowing, Hope reaches down and feels the wound in her abdomen. It’s completely healed over. “I’m fine,” she whispers. “I’m fine.” Everyone gives a sigh of relief.

“You’ve healed,” Klaus says, staring in awe at where the wound had just been.

“Where did you go?”

Hope looks up at Freya, and knows exactly what she means. “I saw her.”

Klaus squeezes her hand. “Saw who, luv?”

Hope looks at her father and gives him a sad smile. “She wanted me to tell you that I was the greatest gift…a son could give his mother.”

Marcel’s strolling down Chartres Street, whistling an old jazz standard, when all of a sudden he’s flying through an alleyway. He lands with an oomph on his back, and in a blink there’s a stiletto heel at his throat. He looks up, a half-smile on his face. “You’re still hot when you’re angry.”

“What have you done?” Rebekah snarls.

Marcel lefts his hands in mock surrender. “Look, whatever you think I did—”

“Someone put an arrow in my niece tonight.” Marcel’s face falls. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Hell, Rebekah.” He shoves her foot away from this neck. “Is she okay?”

“She’s alive, if that’s your concern.”

Marcel hops easily to his feet, stepping out of Rebekah’s range. “So, what, you’re mad at me for this?”

“Every vampire in the Quarter has been angry at Hope since she sent what’s-his-name to the Penitentiary.”

Marcel narrows his eyes. “His name is Drew, and they may be pissed at her but they’d never hurt her.”

“Wouldn’t they?” she argues. “She’s not a child, so she doesn’t fall under your protection.”

“She is the leader of this city, and while I may not have agreed with her decision, I did agree to follow her, and the vampires follow me.”

“Do they?”

Marcel steps up to get into Rebekah’s face. “Yes. They do.”

“Then find out who did this,” Rebekah spits, “before Nik finds a way to blame this on you.” She spins and storms away, adding over her shoulder, “Before he figures out a way to kill you.”

Hope lays asleep on her bed, dressed in fresh, not-bloodied pajamas. Her father sits beside her, her hand in his.

From just over his shoulder, Elijah murmurs, “Are we to trust our mother’s warning of some great threat?”

“I am naturally suspicious of anything that harpy says, especially when my daughter almost died to hear it.”

“You’re naturally suspicious of everything, Niklaus.”

Klaus rolls his eyes. “One thing is for certain: there is a threat in this city, and tonight it came for my daughter.”

Elijah eyes his brother. “Are you considering taking her away?”

“I imagine she would rather die than leave this city.” He rubs his thumb over the knuckles. “We are alike in this.”

“Her wishes haven’t stopped you in the past.”

“Yes, well…” Klaus brushes a strand of hair off of Hope’s face. “Perhaps her courage should be an inspiration to her father, not something to be feared.”

“Yes,” Elijah agrees, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “She is an inspiration to us all.”

#the originals #originals #tvd #tvd fic #originals fic #people and rhythm #pr 2x02

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deepdisireslonging · 7 years

Text

Consequences - Part 1: Ringside

Y/N gets dragged to a boxing match by her friends where she meets Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester. When asked out on a date, she says she’ll only go if he wins. Which is a serious problem.

Pairing: Boxer!Dean x Reader

Warnings: violence in the form of boxing

Word Count: 3100+

Note: I’m not a boxing expert, but I have watched a lot of fights from the greats to make this series. Find any Sugar Ray Robinson fight on YouTube and use it for background music if you’d like. I certainly used some to get in the zone. Feel free to leave comments on how you like or dislike it (with reasons why you dislike it) and guess where the story is going.

The den didn’t look like much from the outside. The brick was chipping on the corners and several of the windows were boarded up. If there hadn’t been a line of patrons waiting at the door, Y/N would have thought it was abandoned.

She looked at her ticket stub again. Admit One: Winter Chicago Amateur Semi-Finals.

“Why are we here?” she asked Jo, her roommate.

“Because Claire got tickets from her friend who works concessions. She’s already inside and said to meet at the seats on the second row.” Jo spun, flaring her skirt and drawing the eye of several men standing around them.

“I feel overdressed.” Y/N looked down at her little black dress, wincing at the grand amount of tulle under the skirt. In reality, it was only a notch above what she wore around town, but she would have preferred to save this dress for a Sunday. “It’s just going to be a bunch of sweaty guys beating each other up. We could watch that any night at your mom’s bar.”

“Y/N,” Jo sighed, “try to enjoy this. The guys fighting tonight are going to look a lot better than the ones at the bar.” Jo leaned close and whispered, “and they’ll be wearing considerably less clothing.”

“Jo!”

A quick cheer resounded from the front of the line as the doors opened. Light poured out into the street, followed quickly by lively music. Barely twenty people had walked through the doors when the bet collectors were yelling the stats. Y/N and Jo showed their ticket to the bouncer and were nearly drowned in the rush to get in. They were separated, but Y/N walked over to a less populated part of the arena to catch her breath.

“You alright, sweetheart?” a voiced asked.

She turned and found herself face to chest with a man in a suit. Taking a step away, she looked up into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. He watched her with concern, but something about him made him feel dangerous. Like he could easily overpower her in more ways than one.

“Yes. Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to my seat.” She turned to walk away.

“You might want to wait a few more minutes till the crowd dies down or you’ll get swamped again.” Y/N stopped to listen. It was still crowded. “And I would take a moment to breathe. Once you’re sitting down, it’s probably not going to smell good.”

“Wonderful,” she muttered under her breath. But she stayed all the same. If the smell of sweaty men could reach her up here, then it was going to be unbearable down there.

“I’m Dean. What’s your name?” he asked, holding out a hand. She shook it with her fingertips.

“Y/N. Pleased to meet you.” She turned to watch people find their seat, reminded of the movements of ants.

“Have you ever been to a fight before?” Dean asked.

“Are you writing a book?”

He raised his hands in defense. “Just wanted to get to know you, sweetheart.”

Y/N snickered, “I hope you don’t think you’ll get anything out of it.”

“Well now that you mention it…” Y/N turned to gape at him. He was serious. If he wasn’t so big she would have thought his boyish movements would have been cute. She almost missed his question while watching his tongue dart out to wet his lips. “Did you hear me?”

“Please?”

“What are your plans after the fight?”

“As far as I can see, nothing with you.” Y/N turned to walk away, she could handle the second-row problems better than this.

“Come on, princess. Being one of the boxers should get me somewhere.”

Y/N took a deep breath. He was big enough to be a boxer but didn’t seem to fully fit the type. Not to mention he wasn’t dressed for a fight.

“I’ll tell you what. You win your fight tonight and I might meet you after the prizefight. Otherwise, forget it.”

Y/N walked away from his grinning face and into the pit. Jo and Claire didn’t have time to ask questions as the first opponents arrived at the ring. Y/N was ready to forget Dean.

“Dean! Where’ve you been, boy?” Bobby Singer grabbed Dean by the lapels and tugged him into the prep room. “You need to get dressed before Uriel gets here.” They froze as someone knocked on the door. “Balls.”

Bobby opened the door for Uriel. Dean hated his sneering face, but he was second in command for the match-fixing ring.

“Take a dive in the fifth, Winchester, and stay there. Feel free to do what you want till then as long as it doesn’t keep Cole from taking you out.”

“That’s not what we agreed, Uriel,” Bobby snarled, “Dean’s supposed to go to the big prize match in March.”

“He will. We had to add a week into the schedule so a special guest could meet you there. You’ll get a rematch next week, and then you’ll be on your way as planned.” Uriel laughed, a sound everyone found akin to nails on a chalkboard.

“You’d better not screw me. Not like you did to Cas with Bartholomew.” Dean stayed back, but his fists were tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

“Yeah, wasn’t that a bite? He made the distance till the tenth, though.” Uriel chuckled.

“It was torture,” Bobby spat.

Uriel stepped forward till he loomed over Bobby. “I wouldn’t focus on the past if I were you. Those who look back too much tend to get lost in the future.” He nodded at Dean and walked out, shouting over his shoulder, “the fifth, Winchester.”

They stood in silence, both seething. But it was the life they were in, one that they more or less chose. Sometimes they joked that God himself couldn’t stop them from deciding who lived and who died. They saved that for nights even darker than this.

“One of these days someone’s going to feed him a knuckle sandwich,” Dean growled.

Bobby nodded in agreement. “But it’s not gonna be you. And it’s not gonna be tonight. You’ve got too much riding on your family for you to rebel. It’d take the whole house of players to end this.”

“Or getting caught,” Dean mumbled.

“Bite your tongue boy! If they get caught, we get caught. And then all their attack dogs will get stuck in the same cage as us. We wouldn’t last the night.” Bobby sighed. Dean looked at him from the corner of his eyes. He was getting old, and the stress of the maintaining the fixes was taking its toll. Bobby shook himself with a grunt. “You need to change quick if you want to catch Sam before his fight.”

Dean shed his jackets while Bobby hunted out the shorts and gloves. He’d signed on to do whatever Uriel told him, but the image of the pretty girl from earlier mixed with the shame of being a fixed boxer made him question how tonight was really going to turn out.

Y/N jumped as the bell rang, ending the match. The ref announced the scores, awarding the win to the tall man with long hair. She halfway wondered how he could see his opponent.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer started, “these ring officials have been appointed by the Illinois State Boxing Commission.” He rattled off several names, she couldn’t remember if they were different from the match before, but they did look a little grimmer. “This is the feature presentation of the light heavyweight not exceeding 175 pounds. From Fort Benning, Georgia, wearing the black trunks with the white stripe and weighing 170 pounds: Cole “Avenger” Trenton.”

A quick cheer rang through the arena. The announcer waited for it to die down before continuing.

“And from Lawrence, Kansas, wearing the white trunks with the black stripes and weighing 175 pounds: Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester.”

Y/N nearly fell out of her seat. It was the man she’d met earlier. And he was the title fight! She covered her face with her hands as Dean looked around the crowd before finding her. He smiled and winked, making her blush. She hoped he was too far away to see it.

“And ladies and gentlemen here is referee Balthazar Smith with instructions for both contestants. And ladies and gentlemen, no smoking, please.”

The referee stepped up to the mike and waited for Dean and Cole to meet. Their coaches stayed close, massaging their shoulders, and probably holding them back based on the daggers they were shooting. “You boys received your instruction from the Illinois Boxing Commission. I want a clean break at all times; careful of your kidney punches and your rabbit punches. In case of a knock-down, I want you to go to your furthest corner and stay there ‘til I tell you to come out fighting. Also, in case of a knock-down, you must take an eight-count. It that understood?” Dean a Cole nodded. “Shake hands and come out fighting.”

The boxers separated and went to their respective corners. Their managers took their robes and gave them mouth guards. The row in front of the girls was filled with men from the press. Y/N had been listening to the man directly in front of her all night as he announced the fight for a small radio program. He kept using terms she didn’t always recognize, but sometimes he’d clarify for visiting listeners. She hoped Dean wouldn’t get hurt.

Bobby held Dean back as he bounced and shadow boxed. “I know you don’t want to, but do what Uriel says. Next week you’ll get the rematch, and then we’ll be onto the big time.” Dean nodded and danced towards the center as the bell rang.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that was the opening bell for this scheduled ten rounder, and Raisin’ Cain Winchester, who won the championship last year, is on his way to defend his title against a younger opponent in the semi-finals. Cole the Avenger is fighting in memory of his father, who died due to boxing injuries.”

He labeled several punches and moves as the men started to swing at one another. “Trenton, who is very effective inside, very good at body punching, and Winchester who is obviously good at long range… with that snappy left jab… and the right cross.”

Dean cinched Cole’s arms to his sides, preventing further body punches. Already they were both sweating, and Dean’s grip was slipping. The referee came over and broke them apart. They separated, but Cole chased Dean into a retreat. Dean fired out a jab, which Cole returned. They traded punches, uppercuts, and several different types of blows that Y/N had learned that night.

“That right hand to Winchester was just a trifle short. If Winchester keeps dancing around the ring like he is, he might tire before he can knock some wind out of Trenton. But there can be no doubt that both men came here tonight to fight. A short minute remaining in round one.”

To Y/N, the minute felt like ten as the men quickly exchanged blows faster than the reporter could call them. Cole landed a solid punch to Dean’s face, making him stagger back into the ropes.

“A little trickle from Winchester. Trenton is scoring repeatedly!”

The bell sounded as Dean pushed off. They ignored one another and went to their corners.

“And round one is over! Raisin’ Cain Winchester taking about as much punishment as I’ve ever seen him take in round one except for last year when Castiel Novak nearly punched him out of the ring. Winchester came back to win that fight. Novak fought and lost to Bartholomew in his next bout in a nearly murderous display. Winchester has had a total of 130 bouts, losing seven, two draws, and one technical knock-out trying to win the middleweight championship when he first started.”

The reporter continued to pass along Dean’s stats and Y/N couldn’t help but be slightly impressed. He was actually a good fighter. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to date a boxer. Not yet. There were still nine rounds to go to see if he could hold up his end of the bargain.

Rounds two, three, and four came and went with similar displays of prowess. Dean’s cut on his brow kept bleeding into his eye. Bobby kept patching it up and cleaning it the best that he could. Y/N learned that he had been a boxer back in the day, but an unsportsmanlike hit to his spine kept him out for several years. When he came back, he stuck to training others and found the Winchesters: Dean and Sam. He was a coach for both of them. Y/N wondered how his heart stayed in his chest on nights when they both fought.

“Trenton talking to Winchester constantly. And the eye of Dean Winchester is starting to smear a bit. Right on the right eyebrow.”

Cole swung out, catching Dean in the ribs, making him double over.

“Probably the best blow of the fight! Avenger Trenton overhand right swinging below to catch Winchester in the ribs.”

Dean swung wildly, missing Cole completely as he ducked. Dean backed away and tried to wipe the blood out of his eye, but missed seeing Cole’s left hook. He dropped like a stone, his head bouncing painfully against the canvas.

The world slowed down to single heartbeats. Patrons leaped to their feet like rocks in molasses. Bobby shook his head, refusing to watch. Y/N looked for his eyes, begging whoever would hear her to see the brilliant green instead of the blood over his closed lids. She gasped as they fluttered.

He found hers as well, latching onto them like a ship to a lighthouse during a storm.

The referee started to count.

One.

Two.

Three.

“To hell with this,” Dean mumbled.

Four.

He reached for a rope, using it to pull himself up. But knees don’t count. He knew he had to get to his feet.

Five.

Cole shouted at him, “stay down! Or you’ll be worse than done, Winchester.”

Six.

Dean managed to get one leg under him, but it wobbled too much to support him.

Seven.

Dean pulled again, straining against his bruised ribs to stand on his feet.

The crowd roared with delight.

“Dean Winchester was not down for the count yet, ladies and gentlemen! We’ve still got a match as long as he’s got any fight left in him.”

The bell rang, ending the fifth round. Cole looked pale and a little green around the gills. Dean nodded to him, taking the blame for the manager storm that was going to hit later.

They met again, but Cole let Dean do all the hitting, feigning exhaustion. Dean knew Cole’s fighting and his style. Cole was tired, especially now that Dean wasn’t pulling his punches.

“A slowly tiring Winchester, but Trenton slows as well. Not punching cleanly going into this round, missing. Winchester’s left hook was low, giving him a warning from ref Balthazar.”

Dean gave Cole four quick jabs to the torso, sending him stumbling into the ropes amid a chorus of cheers. He followed with three more to the head and face.

“Come on Dean! You’ve got ‘im!” Y/N screamed.

“Four clean blows into Trenton, and then three more. Winchester was hurting Trenton. He’s hurting him now. Jabs to the ribs and the face. Now a bolo. Trenton is round housing, missing Raisin’ Cain Winchester by a mile. Trenton’s left eye is swollen. Closing gradually. Damn! Pardon my language, ladies and gentlemen, Dean Winchester has spun Trenton around. He’s still standing, but blocking drunk. Ref Balthazar separates them again as Trenton leans on Winchester. Half a minute to go in the sixth round. Winchester set him up with those body blows, damaged his nose. He has Trenton on his feet asleep, holding on. The audience is standing and cheering.”

Dean kept jabbing. Cole wasn’t fighting back and he was a fellow pawn, but Dean was punching red. All those times when he had a win in the bag and Uriel told him to fall, or every time they promised him the prize fight, like tonight, but then took it away. He could hold himself up. They could take their schemes and schedules with them to hell.

“Trenton punching drunk as the bell rings, ending round six. The ringside doctor checking him out. If he doesn’t respond to the bell, the fight will be over. No! He’s up and ready to go. This is round seven, ladies and gentlemen. And Winchester is not holding back, not with the end so close.”

Y/N notices a flurry of movement to one side of the ring. The doctor is waving his arms till a large man nods. The bell rings, but Dean keeps going.

“Winchester doesn’t hear the bell. Ref Balthazar has to break them apart. But it’s too late! Down goes Trenton. The ref counts… and Dean Winchester has won by a knockout, ladies and gentlemen. For six rounds, Trenton gave better than he took. Then Winchester unleashed all of his best guns for the last round. Our score cards showing that Winchester was ahead sixty-three points to fifty-seven.”

The ref pulled Dean towards the middle as Cole’s coach and attendees pulled Cole’s body off the canvas. The announcer stepped on stage and grabbed the mic. “Attention ladies and gentlemen, the winner by knockout, in two minutes and fifteen seconds of the seventh round, and the defending winner of the Winter Chicago Amateur Semi-finals is Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester. He will face his last opponent to defend his title for another year once dates have been determined.”

He raised Dean’s arm above their heads. Y/N joined the rest of the crowd with a standing applause and cheering.

“See! You enjoyed yourself.” Jo yelled above the din.

“Yeah. I guess I did. Thanks, Claire, for the tickets.”

Claire continued cheering, stopping for a split second to gasp out, “he’s coming this way.”

Y/N looked back at the ring to see Dean pushing his way through the managers. Aiming to meet him halfway, she headed to the chaos surrounding the canvas.

Bobby was shaking Dean. “What were you thinking?”

“Nothing,” Uriel’s voice said, breaking into the circle. “He wasn’t thinking at all.”

Dean stopped his struggle to face Uriel. “You want to duke it out here?” he challenged.

Uriel shook his head with a smirk. “No. But we will discuss this Winchester. Enjoy the light… while it lasts. And get that brow checked out; we wouldn’t want it to turn into something serious.”

Dean broke away, surging through the crowd. He bumped into the person he wanted to see most.

“Heya, sweetheart. You got plans?”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

Part 2: Caution

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camillacarusi · 5 years

Text

Character ID

Name: Claire Wardle Gender: Female Age: 9-15-19-28 Place of Birth: Cambridge, England Location: Cambridge-Cambridge-Milan-London Casting: Elif Karakoc

What does she stand for: La confusione e l’incertezza verso la vita, la “noia”, il tedio; paura all’idea di accettarsi, che poi diventa quasi una sorta di pigrizia e attaccamento alla propria daily life What is her glass of water: Claire vuole riuscire a capirsi, ha passato l’intera vita a cercare di “vederci chiaro” su se stessa.

The Proust Questionnairre

Al momento in inglese, ma poi si vedrà Claire sat down, smoothing the creases on her long, flowery skirt. Uncomfortable. The whole situation was uncomfortable. The way her boots squeaked when she walked into the room, the way the chair she was sitting on squeaked, the feeling of the lacey panties she was wearing (she had to thank Mars for that, and her silly idea of "sexy") Really, really, uncomfortable. "Hello, Claire. How do you feel?" "I feel fine." Smile, tilt your head, and say you are fine. Rinse and repeat for every day of your life, that's was what her mother taught her.The interviewer (definitely not a psychologist) stared at her behind his thick glasses. "Today I will ask you some questions out of an interview Proust received. Are you familiar with Proust?" "Yes," she bit back a snarky remark about him being her acquaintance, "of course. Alright." She stopped fidgeting on the chair .She needed to answer now, and the best way to focus was to forget about everything else entirely “What do you think is the principal aspect of your personality?” Claire blinked. Her personality was a mess. Bitter sarcasm and snarky remarks, probably. “I am… tempered, I suppose. I like to think before I act out on stuff, and, uh, I… I don’t like confrontation, or to stand out. So I’d say… is “being a wallflower” a good enough answer?” “There is no such a thing as a “good enough” answer.” Bloody right there wasn’t. He wouldn’t get paid otherwise. “What is the quality that you desire in a man?” The lack of a penis. “Uh, a good brain, and the ability to understand me.” “And in a woman?” She froze, bitten nails scrapping the surface of the arm rests as if she were picking on it. Pick pick pick. “I suppose… what do you- what do you mean? I am not interested in women. So, uh, the question is… the question doesn’t need an answer, right?” “See it in a platonic way. A platonic relationship, is that alright with you? What do you look for in a friend?” Pick pick pick. “Adventure. Being able to speak her mind. To just get her stuff and go for a travel and drag me on with her.” Like Mars. “You want somebody that can push you out of your routine?” Pick pick- Pause. “Yes. Yes, I s’ppose… I suppose that is right.” “What do you appreciate the most about your friends?” Friends. Claire pondered on the word, licking her chapped lips. (Mars gave her a coconut flavoured chapstick, but she absolutely loathed coconut. Even more than she hated having chapped lips). What was a friend anyway? Did she really have someone she could consider a friend? She had a friendly enough relationship with her classmates in college. And there was always Mars. Were they friends? “The fact that they can put up with…” my shit, “the way I act sometimes.” “Let's get this started, shall we? What’s your main fault? Your favorite occupation?” “My favourite,” she marked the word with her very own british accent, “occupation would be knitting. I also like swmming- although I guess that's more than like. It’s something that I’ve been doing for so long, that I sort of… got used to it. It calms me down. My main fault is probably the fact I am sort of a loner.” Probably, yes. If she wanted to dig a bit more into herself (which she definitely didn’t want, thank you very much) she could say that she was a pushover. The sort of person that will do pretty much anything in order to not get bothered and pestered by people. She could say that, well, maybe growing up with a mother that swept every problem under the rug could have some consequences. That a mindless father still treating her like an eleven year old she hadn't been in nine years often took a toll on her psyche. But she wasn’t going to tell. So, Claire smiled, shrugging helplessly “Yes, I suppose that I’m too much of a loner, heheh.” The psychologist looked at her with an imperscrutable gaze, writing something down on his block. She wanted to take a peek, but she doubted it was an option. Bloody doctors and ethics. “What would be your greatest misfortune, Miss Wardle?” “To disappoint my parents.” She answered quickly, hardly doubtful about it. Her parents were everything to her. Every chance, every opportunity she had in her life (Swimming lesson, going abroad to study, school itself) all was thank to them. … Maybe she didn’t want to be caged in a life she didn’t feel like living, but that was... … She would cross that bridge when she’d come to it, if ever. “And what should you like to be?” Claire was feeling hot. Her head was spinning a bit, she felt dizzy. The cotton of her sweater was itchy and she wanted nothing more than to peel it off and scratch, scratch, scratch at her bare arms. She shouldn’t, though. She smiled again, discretely scratching her cheek. Crossing and uncrossing her legs. “I’m not sure…? Ah, not famous. Not even that much of accomplished in life, that’s… I suppose…” The words were molding together in her brain, the air was too stuffy. “Calm down, Miss Wardle.” Easier said than done, old man. “Happy.” She whispered with as little voice as possible. “Happy?” He raised his bushy white eyebrows. “Yes. Just waking up one day, the smell of lavander surrounding me from the blankets, and just thinking… ah, I’m happy like this.” “Are you not happy right now, Miss Wardle?” “Is this one of your questions?” “No, but—” “Then can you… can you please just… can you not?” She snapped a little, surprising even herself at her harsh tone. “… Very well. Then let’s get to some basic, easier questions. What country would you like to live in?” “I like England, but if I have to pick one… Scotland, I like the folklore. Or Italy, maybe. Italy was good.” Italy was good. “Favorite color?” “My favourite colour,” she puntuated the words again, narrowing her big, chocolatey eyes, “is teal. It’s calming.” The teal coloured nailpolish on her nails was starting to rub off, though, thanks to her habit of picking at it. “Favourite” the doctor humoured her, actually smiling a little, “flower?” “Dahlia.” Short and easy. She liked those kind of questions much more than the previous ones. “What about birds?” “I… I don’t know that.” She blinked, clearly puzzled by the answer. “I don’t think about my favourite birds on a daily basis. I mean, ‘dunno, uh… robins? They are small and cute and pretty common…? I honestly have no clue.” She moved her hand around, in a motion that clearly meant: “Please, let us go ahead, I am just giving you a random answer.” The doctor nodded, rubbing a chubby hand along his bearded chin, thinking. Well, maybe it was a pretty random question. “Favourite author?” “Prose or poetry?” “Both.” “Oh!” Her eyes lit in delight as soon as she got the chance to talk about literature. She could literally spend the entire day conversing about it. Narrowing down her favourite authors to just a couple of people, though, was hard… “Jane Austin and Oscar Wilde for prose and for poetry… Catullus and Horace, I guess. I mean, I loved Wilde’s ballad but- no, I shan’t, if I start talking about it I’d never finish in time, so… also, Emily Dickinson was an icon and- no, no, I’ll stop here, I apologise.” The doctor nodded along again, smiling amiably. “I wouldn’t mind listening to you, but we only have a couple of questions left.” “Alright.” Claire took a deep breath, feeling better than some minutes ago. Her panties were still painfully stretched, though, and she was aware of the way her tanktop was glued to her sweaty back, like a second skin under the black sweater. “What are your heroes? In fiction, if you don’t feel like giving an actual person as an answer.” Oh, she could definitely name a couple of people on top of her head who were a life changing meeting for her, but… yeah, fictional was better. Although, wasn’t she supposed to be there to talk about life and all that bullocks? Well, whatever, that was just her fourth meeting, she’d figure it out soon enough. “If you want a female name, than that would clearly be Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice. I never really thought of any male fictional hero… they are all so mainstream, you know?” She felt heat dusting her cheeks pink, and gave a half hearted shrug. “Maybe Odysseus, or Faust. They are tragically beautiful. Also Hector, in the Iliad... I wouldn’t mind having that kind of man close to me.” But she wouldn’t like it, either, to be fair. “Are we done yet? I think we are done. The time is running off, and I actually have an important meeting after this, so. Uhm, I will see you next Wednesday? I think?” She rambled, scrambling up in a nervous way, chair creaking as her legs hit it in her haste. The time was up, and she was /otally done with it. Not that she didn’t enjoy it. The time sort of flew, but she couldn’t afford to be late to her date. “One last thing, Miss Wardle. The last question is—” “Yes?” She interrupted him, quite rudely, too, barely containing her urge to bounce from foot to foot. “Favourite composer?” “Chopin, totally. Can I go now, please?”

The doctor stood up as well, taking his sweet time in doing so (at least, in Claire’s eyes) and offered her a hand. Claire glared at his stretched out hand, but gingerly took it in hers, mindful to give a “hard squeeze to show self assurance (her father words)”, but “not too hard, to not look to threatening (her mother’s)”. He gave her a warm, almost paternal smile, and not for the first time in meeting him, she felt a bit choked up. She wasn't good at dealing with men. “Of course. I’ll see you next Wednesday, Miss Wardle.” “Yea- yes, of course- I.. Uh.. I'll go now, good bye and thank you!” She scurried off, barely avoiding knocking down a vase in the process.

The door closed with a click.

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fasterthanyouvidia-blog · 7 years

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Going Out is Not Training || Self Para

Quidditch. School. Studying. Initiation training. Work. Gym. Vidia's schedule was jam packed. She didn't have time to sit and bullshit. She didn't even get to see her roommates long enough to say hello. She didn't mind the lack of social interaction but she didn't even get time to trash talk the little putos she enjoyed messing with.

“Vidia! You're here!” Helen was a cute little thing. Her sweet disposition reminded her of her best friend. Maybe that was why she showed up. Vidia missed Felicity and Helen was the next best thing.

“Yup. Why are we here? What kind of lesson could be learned here?” The two young women stood outside of a wizarding nightclub as the music thumped from inside.

“Your first lesson on balance,” Helen grinned.

“Clubbing isn't balance.”

“Your balance issue isn't physical, it's mental,” She waved for Vidia to follow her. “You're so intense. You don't have time to relax. You don't have time to make friends. So, tonight, you'll be hanging out with us.”

“Are you kidding?” Vidia’s eyebrow peaked to one side.

“Nope.”

“I have friends.”

“We both know that's a lie. You have people you drink with and people you bully.” Vidia's jaw dropped as the sweet young girl spoke so candidly to her. “So, no alcohol. You need to socialize sober. Have fun. That's your training for tonight.”

“And if I can't do that?”

“We'll repeat the lesson,” Helen flashed a sweet smile and linked arms with Vidia as they were let through the velvet ropes.

The flashing lights and hum of chatter gave Vidia the urge to order a drink. She looked around and exhaled. She was there for some stupid lesson on balancing her life. It was bullshit but she agreed to all of the crap. She wasn't about to turn around now and give up.

The light danced around the rows of liquor bottles behind the bar as she followed Helen to the group sitting in the V.I.P. section. “Here you go,” Helen stepped up on the platform where everyone sat.

Claire, Graham, and Rodney greeted Vidia as Trina scoffed and ignored the new addition to their party. “Hey, Vid!” Graham was a little too close for comfort. “Let's go dance.”

“No,” she hissed into his ear.

“You're supposed to be training. Finding your balance.” His grin was wicked and Vidia wanted to punch him for it. However, she knew Helen wouldn't be too thrilled about that.

“Whatever,” she nudged past him and made her way to the dance floor.

It was a different feeling to be on a dance floor sober. It didn't bring the same pleasure or satisfaction as it did in the past. Even Graham’s arm that slid around her waist sent a wave of different feelings than what she was used to. “Hands off,” she tried to move forward but he pulled her back. “Let go, Graham.”

“We’re just dancing,” he spoke closely to her ear so he could be heard over the music.

“You don't need to have your grubby hands all over me,” Vidia pulled his hand off her hips and took a large step forward.

“Come on, Vid,” he closed the distance between them again. “It'll be fun.”

“I can't hit you but just know, I want to,” then she left the dance floor.

Vidia was having a shitty time. She used to love going out. One night of sober socializing didn't seem like it would be a struggle. It was. It was a major struggle.

Claire and Helen were off doing Merlin knows what over at the bar. Trina and Rodney were off talking to one another. Graham quickly recovered from Vidia's rejection and moved on to some other female.

“You shouldn't look so down,” Vidia rolled her eyes as she heard a man speak to her. When her eyes ventured a look it was Alf March, Guild Commander. “Isn't Helen’s lesson supposed to have you looking like you're enjoying yourself?”

“Guess it's not a good lesson.”

“It's a great lesson. You're just a sucky student.”

“Excuse me?” Vidia couldn't believe her ears. He barely knew her.

“You heard me. You want to join the guild and these people are taking time out of their schedules to train you. Appreciate the gift that is their knowledge and at least try.” Alf leaned against his elbow against the small table between the two of them.

“This is not how I enjoy myself,” she said begrudgingly.

“Well, how do you enjoy yourself?”

“Lots and lots of alcohol,” She said with a grin.

“Then let's start you off with a shot or two,” Alf held his hand out for Vidia to take. She wasn't going to tell him that Helen said no alcohol. What Helen didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

“Cheers,” Vidia raised the glass then knocked it back as quickly as possible.

Alf and Vidia had a few rounds before she felt happy enough to be looser and more sociable. “Are you ready to play nice?” His whiskers tickled her ear as he leaned over to ask the question. Vidia simply nodded. “Good.”

His hand laced with hers and guided her to the dance floor. Alf and Vidia moved together and she was in her happy place.

“See you can have a good time,” Alf whispered as his arm held Vidia around the waist.

“You like being right, don't you?”

“Yeah. Who doesn't?”

“Not many people, I suppose,” Vidia turned to face him as they danced.

“How is your training going?” Alf asked making small talk.

“It's alright. It's better now that I've had a few drinks.”

“Graham and Rodney both seem pretty interested in what's happening over here.”

“And?” Vidia peeked over her shoulder. Graham looked angry but Rodney seemed concerned. Graham was just upset because Vidia turned him down. She knew that would happen. Although, Rodney’s concern was more of a mystery to her.

“Just an observation.”

“Is being observant a Guild requirement?”

“Not entirely. It doesn't hurt to be, though.”

Vidia ran her finger down the center of his shirt, her finger gliding over the buttons as the past. “Why are you here? Just to check on my training?”

A cockeyed grin curled on his face. The thick whiskers on his face concealed much of the deviousness but Vidia knew it was there. “I was curious what all the fuss was over the bet.”

Vidia rolled her eyes and pushed herself away from his embrace and headed over to the bar. She was tired of the bet. Why did it even matter? She wasn't there for sex or anything in the realm of sex. She wasn't brought to the Guild for her sexual ability. She was offended that the bet was a huge topic of conversation among the members.

“Vidia,” Alf followed her. “We're having a good time, aren't we?”

She snapped around, “if I was a man would this bet even exist? Is what's in my pants all that matters? Or who for that matter? I may not have been the most chaste of girls. I slept with a lot of people. But fuck all of you who think it's okay to bet on when I would sleep with Graham.” Her chest heaved with anger.

“Relax, Vidia,” Alf called for a water from the bartender. “I didn't mean to make you upset. I was just seeing what was up.”

“Well, you've seen. So, you can go.”

“Want me to make sure you get back okay?” Alf asked as he handed her the water.

“I'm fine,” Vidia's reply was short as she sipped the ice water. “Bye, Alf.”

“Goodbye, Vidia.”

Vidia sat at the bar staring at the glass as the ice slowly melted. She slowly cursed Graham for even existing. She cursed Rodney for telling her. She cursed everyone who made the bet.

Her thoughts drifted to wonder why they never made ice that didn't melt. Witches and wizards could do spectacular things but they still have ice that melted and watered down drinks.

“That looks like some deep thought,” Vidia wanted to swing her fist around and hit whoever pulled her from her mind but she stopped. It was Rodney. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.”

“What happened with Alf?” He took the stool next to her.

“That stupid bet,” she muttered.

“Oh,” Rodney tried not to laugh as he ran his hand through his ash brown hair. “Yeah, Alf isn't exactly the most tactful of men.”

“Really?”

“You're the one who said he was your type.”

“Shut up,” she swatted his arm.

“No way. I came over to see if you were okay. I should get praised not swatted!” He rubbed his arm and pretended to whimper.

“You'll be fine,” Vidia said as she rolled her eyes.

“I might need a kiss to make it better,” he leaned his arm close to her.

“No.”

“Come on, Vidia. I won't tell,” his frown pulled downward even more.

“You're pathetic,” she rolled her eyes as she kissed the spot where she hit him. “There.”

“Thank you,” he sat back in his seat. “You kissed my boo-boo.”

“Oh good merciful Merlin!” She swung her seat around to face him. “If I knew you were going to talk about it I would have let you sit there begging me for one.”

“What if I asked you for a real kiss?” His eyebrows bounced with his question.

“Nothing. Trina would kill you,” Vidia said with a laugh.

“But you'd be the one to kiss me. Why wouldn't she kill you?”

“Because you asked.”

“If Trina wasn't a factor, then would you?” He leaned in close enough to smell the hint of vodka on his breath.

Vidia leaned in and whispered, “No.” she flashed a grin and swung her feet around. With a bounce, she was off the stool and fading into the crowd.

She spotted Helen, Claire and Trina laughing with each other like the merry band they were. Vidia had zero desire to be the fourth woman in their little clique. As annoying as the men were, Vidia was better suited to keep up with them.

“Alone, finally.” Vidia turned toward the bathroom and ran into Graham, again.

“Go away, Graham. I'm not nearly as drunk as I need to be to tolerate you.” Vidia ducked under his arm and kept walking.

“You'd rather sleep with Alf than with me?”

Vidia whipped around to face him, “I didn't sleep with him. I danced with him. Big difference. And I'll probably never sleep with you. So, get over it.”

“Why not?”

“Why does it even matter? Get over it. Not everyone wants to sleep with you.” She pursed her lips as her arms met her sides.

“Because,” he didn't have much of a reason. He took a step forward and relied on his looks to make her change her mind.

“Get over it, Graham. Your life will be easier if you do.”

“I don't lose bets,” he hissed.

“Everyone has new experiences,” she patted him on the shoulder and side stepped around him.

His hand came around and grabbed her. Vidia was stunned as her back hit the wall, “Trina is right about you. You're nothing. Not even worth the seconds it takes to piss.”

His breath mixed with hers and he hungrily scanned her body, “whatever, Graham. Stop eye fucking me and let me go.” She tried to keep her usual demeanor but she was worried what he was thinking about.

“Everyone has new experiences, right?” Before his grubby hands could manage their way up her leg, Vidia’s palm met his nose. A gush of red flow and he screamed.

“I'm sure you've had your nose broken before,” she gave him a shot to the kidney for good measure. “Now you can piss blood and think of me for an extra few seconds.”

Vidia was done. Socializing with the other members wasn't going to work out. She had to accept that they didn't respect her enough for it to work. If they weren't going to respect her then she was done. She was leaving.

“Vid!” She heard Rodney’s voice once she hit the street. She really hated how he was so quiet when he didn't want to be heard. “Wait!”

“Just wipe my memories and leave me alone,” Vidia shouted as she walked.

“No,” Rodney caught up quickly. “What happened in there?”

“It was a failed lesson. That’s what it was. I don’t fit in with you guys. You don’t want me around.” She stopped and looked up at him. “So, go back to your friends.”

“We do want you around but you’re not the easiest person to talk to. You’re always so guarded with your snippy comments and foul language. Drop that guard of yours and you can fit in with us. You can fit in with anyone if you just stop acting like a bitch all the time.” Vidia’s jaw dropped. “So, get back in there and become our friend.”

“No,” Vidia was going to stand her ground. “You think you know me. Following me around for a few months doesn’t mean you know me. I like keeping people at an arm’s length. I actively avoid relationships. It’s not some sort of accident. I did this. I made myself like this.”

“Stop being so stubborn. Stop just fucking stop. You’re throwing this opportunity away because you’re afraid of being our friend? Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds? You’re willing to throw away an opportunity to be one of the greatest flyers of all time because you don’t have to like us?” Rodney held her by the shoulders. “Listen to yourself!”

“I don’t even know why I’m still standing here.” With a crack, Vidia apparated to her room at her parents’ house.

“Ah, shit!” Rodney was there with her. “I got splinched!”

Vidia grumbled as she took a look at the part of his arm where he had a large gash. “Here,” She tossed a shirt at him, “for the blood.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait here,” Vidia opened the door to her room and let the stairs glide downward. She was lucky enough to have parents that were magibotanists who kept all sorts of healing herbs in the house. She rummaged through their stores and yanked a few things out that would aid in the healing.

Rodney jumped when Vidia pulled the hatch door shut and spilled the herbs on the floor. “You’re an idiot. Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to do that? You don’t surprise side apparate with someone.” Vidia yanked the shirt from the gash and studied his wound. “I’ve had to patch up a few quidditch injuries over the years.”

“Have you ever lost a patient?” Rodney joked.

“Nope but you seem to have a death wish. So, does it really matter?”

“Nah, I just wanted to finish our conversation.” Rodney winced as Vidia pulled his arm closer for a better view. “You've got some bedside manner.”

“Our conversation was over. That's why I was leaving,” She said while pouring a salve on his splinched arm.

“I didn't say it was over.”

“Oh, really? And who said you were the boss of me, cadelo?” Vidia laughed as she examined her work as the gash began to vanish.

“No one. I just want to be your friend.” Rodney glanced at his splinched arm and nodded. “Look at you. If flying ever fails you, healing seems like something you can do.”

“Nah. That would mean I have to like people. That kind of gets in the way of my hate the world initiative.”

“Why are you like that? You're not a bad person. You can be nice.” Rodney shifted on the small seat Vidia had for her vanity.

“That's really none of your business.” Vidia began cleaning up the mess from doctoring his injury.

“I'm just trying to understand, Vid. Can you blame me?”

“There's nothing to understand. I don't want friends. Plain and simple.” The agitation was growing in her voice.

“But-”

“But nothing. Just drop it. You're all fixed up. You can leave now.” Vidia let the door drop back down for Rodney to leave.

“Vidia,” he stood up and almost hit his head on the slanted ceiling in the attic, “just talk to me. I'm here trying to be your friend. You say you don't fit in with us by how do you know if you don't try?”

“Rodney, if you say my name one more time,”

“What? You'll do what? You're too short to slap me. Can't break my nose like you did to Graham. Cut the big bad girl routine for like five minutes and be real with me. I'm just here trying to be your friend.”

“My best friend died. We were just kids and she died. I spent a day hiding in an old oak tree crying. I vowed to myself that I'd never feel that pain again. I wouldn't love or care for someone like I did for Lorena. So, if you don't mind, leave.” Her words were cold and distant. It had been a while since she said Lorena’s name.

“It's damn near impossible to do that,” Rodney took a step closer to Vidia.

“I do a pretty good job. I'm not going to say it again, leave.” She tapped her foot angrily as she waited next to the door.

“Come on. We just got going. Helen’s training lesson could still be somewhat of a success.”

“Go.”

“Fine. I'm leaving. I can apparate from here.” He said looking around.

“Doesn't matter. My parents left for some plant expo in Germany this weekend. They took the puppies with them, too.” Rodney laughed at the notion of Vidia having puppies.

“Walk me out then?”

“Fine.”

Rodney went down the ladder and Vidia followed. They walked in silence through her house. “You have a big family. I always thought Ridgewell was joking when he said Alberto had thirteen children.”

“Don't talk about my grandfather like you knew him,” she scowled up at him as they got closer to the front door.

“I've heard so much about him. It feels like I do know him.”

“Well, just shut up about it, okay?” Vidia felt a small twinge of jealousy. She knew very little about her grandfather. Since she decided to join the Guild, she felt like she didn't know anyone she was related to. Between her grandfather, Alberto, her mother’s parents, her uncle and mother’s betrothal and subsequently her parents falling in love, everything seemed to be so much more than what she was told.

“Can I get a list of what I can talk about with you? I have a feeling it's a much easier list to remember.”

“Quidditch. Alcohol. Girls. That's about it. Unless you're also into guys, that's something we can talk about, too,” she flashed a cheeky grin as she reached for the door.

“Sadly, I'm not into guys. So, just the three topics. I think I can do that. What if the girl is Trina?”

“Then keep it to alcohol or quidditch,” they both let out a chuckle. “She's probably going to be pissed at you for leaving.”

“She's not my girlfriend or my keeper,” Rodney’s tone was less playful than before.

“You sleep with her.”

“Do you answer to everyone you sleep with?”

“Touché,” Vidia opened the door and motioned for him to leave.

“Well, I guess I'll be going.”

“Night, Rodney.”

“Good night, Vidia.” Rodney hesitated in the doorway. “Give us a chance. You said we don't respect you. If you want us to respect you, then you need to give us a chance to.”

“I don't want your respect. I just want you out of my house and my life.” She shrugged and started to close the door.

“I'm not buying it. Somewhere deep down, you want to befriend us,” Rodney held the door open as he talked. “Just a chance. Please?”

“If I say I'll think about it, will you finally leave?” Rodney nodded. “Fine, I'll think about it but don't hold your breath, puto.”

#fhogself #selfpara #hc:guildofthewind #guildofthewind #guild5 #tw:pushyguysagegapvidiastuff

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