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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Monday

Tuesday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Thursday (Part 2) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Pairing: SBI x sister!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, toxic friends, panic spirals/attacks, injury, taking pills for pain

Summary: you have a very bad week, how will you manage? (Characters are fully human, but based on their DSMP characters. High school AU)

Word count: 4,818

(A/N): I’ve never played volleyball or watched Haikyuu before, so I’m not 100% certain how games work. Also, I probs should’ve split this into two parts, but eh.

“(Y/n) love, you look homeless in that sweater, it’s literally so fucking ugly.”

“Haha, yeah it is. I guess I just wasn’t really trying today.”

Adrian snorted, scanning your body with his cold eyes. “Today? You don’t try at all. You always look like trash.”

“More than trash, you always look like you just rolled in dog shit.” Sammy threw her head back and cackled at her own joke.

Your friends around you erupted in laughter as you four walked down the hallways of the hell that was your public high school. You awkwardly chuckled alongside them, you didn’t really find it funny, but you didn’t want to draw more attention towards yourself.

“Seriously, (y/n), I really don’t know why we still hang out around you anymore. You really let yourself go.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, you did gain like five pounds in the past week.”

“Really not a good look on you, love. Then again, nothing you do can make you look good anymore.”

You tried to not let their comments get to you, you really did, but sometimes their comments just rooted themselves deep into your subconscious. You didn’t try looking good anymore, you couldn’t wear anything without them criticising it. You could never win.

“Awe,” Adrien poked your cheeks, “stop looking so sad. We’re just trying to give you advice. You really need it.”

“Yeah, (y/n). You’re so sensitive, get a grip.”

“Guys look, I think she’s gonna cry!”

You wiped at your welling eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m not. I just got allergies.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Anyways, what are our plans for Halloween? We should totally dress up like sexy angels! I think that’d be so cool. Like, Clint’s party won’t be ready for us.”

“Oh, about that Annie…”

“God, what now (y/n)?”

“I was actually planning on spending Halloween night taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating with my brothers and dad. I won’t be able to go with you guys, I’m sorry.”

The group groaned loudly. “C’mon (y/n), you never hang out with us anymore.”

“Oh my god (y/n) you still go trick-or-treating? We’re juniors.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with my AP classes and studying for the SAT. My team captain’s really been pushing the team hard with volleyball practice. State finals are soon and we want first this year.”

“No matter how much studying you do, you’re gonna fail. You’re stupid, so why try? Just give up and hang out with uuussss.”

“Yeah (y/n),” Adrien looked at you suspiciously, “you’ve been ignoring us lately. I thought we were friends. Do you even wanna be friends anymore?”

You felt a flare of panic flare up in your gut. “I do! I-I just have so much going on right now. It’s starting to get hard to juggle everything.”

“We’re starting to think that you don’t like us anymore, we want our (y/n) back!” Sammy whined. The others agreed with her, making you feel guilty. You were ignoring them, it was selfish in your opinion. You supposed that you could skip out on taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating, there’ll be other years you could take them.

“I guess I can take Tommy and Tubbo another year. They’d just have to go without me this year.”

They cheered, giving you praise. You beamed at that, they seemed down lately and you loved it when they’d give you compliments. They didn’t do that much, so that made their praise more special to you. You strived to get compliments.

You four went off to your separate first classes for the day. Yours was statistics, a class you’ve been struggling in lately. You didn’t know anybody in there except for your oldest brother Techno, so you tried to stick with him. Unfortunately, the teacher’s seating chart placed you both on opposite ends of the room, probably because of your last names indicating that you’re siblings. You placed your stuff down on the table and plopped down into your seat, already drained. You had a long day ahead of you; you had a major AP world history test in your next class, you had to give a presentation in your AP english class that was worth a quarter of your final grade, and you had a semifinals volleyball match that would last until late in the night. If your team won, you would be going to state finals, so it was a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You were the main setter, so you had to really focus tonight if you were going to score your team points.

“Alright class, pull out your homework!”

Fuck, you had homework? You looked in your folder, only to see the unfinished sheet full of equations you didn’t understand staring back at you tauntingly. Mr. Mullins walked over to your desk, took one look at your blank homework, and just walked right past you. Another big fat zero in the gradebook for you, just what you needed. At least he wasn’t in the mood to berate you today. You didn’t need any more stress piled onto your shoulders.

The lesson felt like it dragged on forever with you frantically trying to copy down the notes on the board and trying to understand the content at the same time. Overtime, he would call students up to the board. Hopefully, he would skip over you today. “Ms. Minecraft.” Goddamn it, you spoke too soon.

Your head perked up and you looked at him. “Yes sir?”

“Come up to the board and solve this.”

Gulping, you felt panic rise up in you and stood up with shaky knees. On the board was part of the newer content he was just teaching. Something that you understood only a little bit better than the rest, and that’s not saying much. You still didn’t understand the content completely. Your writing was shaky as you wrote what you thought was right on the board. Finding the answer, you circled it and looked at Mr. Mullins. He looked disappointed.

“That’s wrong, Ms. Minecraft. Please sit down.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you saw the entire class burning holes into you with their eyes. Though they looked dead inside, as per usual with any morning class full of tired teenagers, their effects still took hold on you. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. You sat back down and stared at your note packet, you couldn’t focus on the lecture anymore. Your attention was fully on your surroundings, you were hyper aware of every little whisper and bouncing leg in your peripheral vision. You could feel yourself spiraling, usually that wouldn’t happen until after your third class. Today was going to be rough.

The loud chime of the bell startled you out of your thoughts. You shakily put your papers back into your binder and put the binder back into your backpack. Right as you were about to walk through the door, you heard Techno catch up to you. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah Tech, I’m just peachy.”

“Are you su-”

“Technoblade. I’m fine. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I have an important presentation I’ve gotta prepare for.”

Without giving him any room to argue, you rushed off to your english class. You had Adrian and Annie in your class. For your presentation, you were paired up with people that you hardly knew. At least they did their part in the project, you were certain you were going to die if you got paired up with Adrian and Annie again. You loved them, but they never did any part of their portion of work. They left it to you to finish at midnight the day the project was due. To be fair, they both told you they had family emergencies, so you covered for them just that once.

You pulled out your flashcards only to have them knocked out of your hand when someone bumped into you. You quickly crouched to pick them up so you could have them in order by time class started. “Oops, sorry love.”

It was Annie. She and Adrian towered over your crouched form smirking at you. Looking back down to rearrange your cards, you murmured “it’s ok.”

“Are you ready for this presentation, I know I am.”

You smiled a little. “Actually, I think I’m going to ace this. English is my best subject.”

“Yeah (y/n), I wasn’t asking you. I was talking to Annie. Besides, you’re probably going to fail this.” Adrian scoffed.

“Thank you for asking, Adrian,” Annie shot a pointed look at you, “at least someone cares.”

The bell rang, signifying the start of your second block. You felt like you had a lump in your throat blocking your breathing. If Adrian, one of the smartest kids in your english class, said that you were going to fail, then you probably were going to fail. That would take a huge hit on your grade, this project was worth a quarter of your final grade after all. You were zoned out for the entirety of your classmate’s presentations putting yourself into a spiral. You jumped when Mr. Todd, your teacher, called your group up to present.

You stood stiffly in the middle of your two groupmates and clutched your flashcards with clammy hands. Luckily, your part of the presentation was not first. When it came to your part, you were stuttering and tumbling over your words. You even dropped your flashcards in front of everybody, causing half the class to snicker. Your face burned as you hurried to pick them up and your other groupmate took this as a signal to continue the presentation. You still had an important point to make that was integral for the set up to your other groupmate’s part of her presentation. You stared at your flashcards for the rest of the presentation.

When the bell rang, you made a mad dash out of the classroom. You didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially not Adrian or Annie. It was a relief that you had your lunch period at the moment. You could hide yourself in the bathroom nobody used and let your panic attack ride itself out.

You ducked inside a stall and sat on the toilet, bringing your knees up to bury your face in them. The tears and panic you were holding in all day let itself out with explosive effects. You started to hyperventilate as you muffled your sobs with your knee. Your chest painfully clenched so you couldn’t breathe. Your limbs felt like they weighed two tons each and they were shaking intensely. You didn’t hear the end of the lunch bell ring. By the time you calmed down slightly, you were five minutes late to AP world history.

You packed your stuff up in a hurry, power walking through the halls. You probably looked like shit, but you didn’t care, you had a class to get to and a test that you probably wouldn’t be able to finish now. You lost ten minutes of your test time. When you tried to open the closed door, you found that it was locked. You had to knock if you wanted to get in. You raised a shaking hand to knock, but the door was opened by a less-than-impressed Ms. Osborne. She ushered you to your desk and gave you your unit test.

You couldn’t focus. The multiple choice section was usually a breeze to you, but you couldn’t comprehend any of the questions. When you could comprehend them, you couldn’t concentrate on choosing an answer. You did your best to find the correct answers, but you were almost positive that at least half of them were wrong. Your handwriting was nearly incomprehensible and your essay topic was something you didn’t study for. When you were done with half of the body paragraphs, the bell rang and you had to turn in your unfinished test.

You had your independent online psychology course next in the library. You usually worked alone secluded in a corner deep inside the library where nobody went. You would get some solace in being alone. Maybe you’d calm down enough so that you could ride home with your brothers and not go for a long walk so you could avoid them.

You settled down in the comfortable chair and pulled out your laptop to get started. Psychology was your favorite class. It was easy for you to understand, it didn’t have much of a workload attached to it, and it was fun to learn about. It always calmed you down reading about the intricate workings of the brain.

By time the day was over, you got most of your psychology work done and you were on your way to the car you shared with Technoblade and Wilbur. You took out your spare keys and slumped against the window in the backseat. You were absolutely drained after your terrible day and you still felt panic swirling deep within you, waiting for the right moment to strike.

You stretched out your legs across the seat and leaned your back against the door. For the first time that day, you felt peaceful. You still had at least fifteen minutes to yourself until your brothers would start to make your way to the car. You felt the panic subside slightly and you fully relaxed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off into a light sleep. You needed your energy for tonight’s match.

The door you were leaning on swung open and you tumbled backwards smacking the back of your head against the metal frame of the car and reverse scorpioning onto the pavement. Your entire upper back and the back of your head exploded in pain and your lower back hurt slightly from having your back bent uncomfortably. You heard laughter above you as you felt tears of pain start to slip out of your eyes. Your legs swung out from their place above your face and landed on the ground with a painful thump.

You saw three blurry figures above you laughing at your pain. You reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at your tears and saw Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. They were cackling as you shakily stood up and sat on the comfortable seats of the car. You waited patiently for them to calm down.

Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain what happened to you through chuckles. “I’m sorry (y/n), it was just too good to resist. You should’ve seen your face.”

She and the others broke back into uncontrolled laughter as they remembered your embarrassing fall. You were used to their antics, and quite frankly it felt good to make your friends laugh, even if it were at your own expense. Just as they were calming down once again, you saw Wilbur and Techno walk out the front doors of the school laughing at something the other said. Annie and Sammy heard their laughter and quickly turned around to watch them. They had massive crushes on both of your brothers, many in the school did.

Your brothers made their way to your shared car and stopped to look at you in slight confusion. “(Y/n), were you crying? What happened?” Wilbur asked worriedly.

“Yea-”

“Oh Wilbur, it was terrible, (y/n) fell out of the car. I don’t think she closed the door before she leaned on it.” Annie interrupted you with a faked concerned tone, a complete contradiction to her reaction before your brothers came.

Techno hastily made his way to the driver’s side door. “Well, if she’s hurt we better get going, right Wilbur?”

“Yes! We better get going, please excuse us.” He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door without hearing Sammy and Annie’s desperate attempts to stop them so they could talk to them. Your brothers thought Sammy and Annie were annoying. They absolutely hated being around them.

Waving apologetically at your friends, you pulled yourself into the car and closed the door. Annie and Sammy looked offended that you had let Wilbur and Techno get away from them. Avoiding their eyes, you looked down at your tightly clasped hands. They were shaking slightly.

After pulling out of the parking lot, Techno glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “You ok (y/n)?”

“Yeah, my back just hurts and I have a headache.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get some ice cream? We still have some time left before we have to pick up Tommy and Tubbo. Dad doesn’t have to know,” Wilbur asked you.

You sighed, you wanted nothing other than to take a nap before your match. “Sorry, but I need to watch what I eat today. We have semifinals tonight and I can’t have anything sugary. I just wanna go home and take a nap.”

Your brothers were quiet for the rest of the car ride until you reached your driveway. Techno twisted his body around in his seat to look at you after he put the car in park. “Did you actually fall out of the car?”

Shit, should you tell him the truth? If you did, they would almost certainly get mad at your friends. Sammy and Annie would never forgive you if you turned your brothers against them. You decided that you would take one for the team again. “Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Techno snorted. “Well, that was stupid,” he jokingly said. “Next time you’re gonna get run over by a parked car.”

You knew that he meant that as a joke, but it still stung. Stamping your emotions down, you laughed with him and Wilbur. It was stupid of you to do, you shouldn’t have let your guard down if you weren’t at home.

You winced as you slung your bag on your back and walked the best you could back into your house. Your upper back was killing you. You made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for some pain relief pills. You took some and shambled off to your room to take your well earned nap. You set your alarm’s setting to its loudest volume and passed out.

You jolted up and gasped when you felt a wave of pain hit your upper back. You blearily looked at the time. You had a little under two hours before you had to get back to the school for your match. You groaned when you pulled yourself up, your head pounding with every turn. You pulled yourself out of bed and once again took some pain pills. You went downstairs to grab an apple or something to eat. Your dad was at the stove stirring something around in a pot.

He turned to look at you with an excited smile. “You ready for your match tonight? You’re gonna kill it!”

You only nodded halfheartedly and plopped yourself down at the table with your apple. Philza frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, but he figured that it was just because you just woke up from a nap. You’d bounce back eventually.

“Wilbur told me that you fell out of the car? How’d you do that?”

You shrugged, wincing slightly as it moved your back slightly. “Dunno, must’ve not closed the door.”

Philza was at your side in a hurry, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Did you get hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

“My back and the back of my head.”

“Can I move your shirt so I could look?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You felt him gently pull the neck of your t-shirt away from your body to peek at your back. You heard his breath hitch as he looked. Was it that bad? “Good god (y/n),” he breathed out.

“What, is it bad?”

“Don’t you feel how bad it is? Your entire back is bruised. I think there’s some blood too.”

“Damn.”

“First, language. Second, that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Yeah, but the pain pills are gonna kick in soon. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you be able to play tonight? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“No, I’m playing tonight Dad.”

“(Y/n),” oh no, he was using his stern dad voice. “It’s not a good idea to play tonight. You’re hurt, I’m sure they’ll understand if you sit this one out.”

You felt frustration rise up in you. “We’re in the semifinals. They need me, I’m the main setter. They’d lose without me playing.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious. You’re not playing today.”

“Dad, I am playing today. Look, I’ll talk to Coach Williams to see if I could be rotated out more often. I know she’d let me.”

He stared at you for a while before sighing. He knew there was no convincing you. “...Fine. But you better talk to Coach Williams about sitting out for a bit if your back hurts too much or I swear I’ll drag you off the court myself.”

You smiled a little at the small victory. “Thank you! I promise I’ll sit out if needed.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “If needed?”

You sighed, “when needed.”

He walked over to the pot, stirring the contents slightly. “That’s better. Dinner’s almost ready, I made some pasta.”

“It smells good, but I think I’m skipping out on it for today. I already ate this apple and if I eat any more I’ll probably hurl on the court.”

He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, “fine, but you’re eating something when we get home tonight.”

He walked off to go get your brothers and Tubbo for dinner. You could hear their booming steps racing down the stairs towards the kitchen. They raced into the kitchen and almost crashed into the back of your chair. You stood up and looked at the two excitable fifth graders. “Careful boys, don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re no fun (y/n),” Tommy whined.

“Sure, sorry bout that,” Tubbo beamed at you.

You chuckled, making your way upstairs to get ready for your match. You took off your clothes with great difficulty and slipped on your jersey and your spandex shorts. They were way too short for your tastes, but you couldn’t wear longer ones, they’d just get in the way. You fondly remembered how your dad flipped out when he first saw you in them, he hated them with a burning passion. He still hates how short they are.

When you were struggling with pulling your hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, the back of your head throbbed continuously with pain. You most likely bruised your scalp.

You slipped on your shoes that were made specifically for playing volleyball and headed downstairs. You were met with Tommy and Tubbo jumping in excitement seeing you in your uniform. They loved going to your matches, even if they would always pass out in the car after them because matches usually ended late at night. You grabbed your dad’s keys and headed to his car. Before you could lead the boys out the door, Philza’s voice stopped you.

“(Y/n), coat.”

You huffed, grabbing your coat and putting it on before tossing him his keys. You four got into the car and set out for the high school. The short drive was filled with Tommy and Tubbo asking you questions about volleyball and encouraging you. “(Y/n), you’re gonna kick their butts!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered

Despite their voices causing a spike of pain to shoot throughout your head, you laughed at their enthusiasm. It was always nice to hear your little brother and pseudo brother in the stands cheering you on, they were your and your team’s personal cheerleaders.

Not long after you got to the school, you were stretching with your team on the gym’s floor. Your posse found their way into the stands, sitting in the front row. The away team watched your team like a hawk, analysing every single player for any weakness. It was because of them that you tried to not show any pain when you moved your back. You talked to Coach Williams before the team stretch and she was obviously sympathetic with your situation. She agreed to switching you out with the standby setter every few rotations.

The echo of the whistles caused pain to ring in your head every time someone scored or a foul was called. Your team captain, Haley, was constantly, yet discreetly checking on you throughout the game since she was always next to you. She was the team’s main spiker after all.

The game droned on and on before you realized that the opposing team was targeting you when they were offensive. They probably realized that you were injured a round ago. You tried your best to block every ball that was sent your way, but a few managed to slip past you when you couldn’t move fast enough. This team was good, but your team was better.

The score during the final round was tied and the clock was on it’s last ten seconds as the ball soared your way. You dove to hit it, landing on your shoulder on the hard floor and hitting it up high enough for Haley to spike the ball down. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off from the opposite end of the court almost simultaneously with the screeching of the referee’s whistle, signifying the end of the game and your team’s victory.

You laid on the floor in pain, you thought you must’ve pulled your tender muscles in your back and shoulder. It hurt to move it. You felt one of your teammates grab your hand to yank you up into a giant full team group hug. You yelped slightly in pain as you felt arms press against your back and hands firmly patting your bruised shoulders. You were whisked away into the locker room to change into the pajamas you brought with you.

“(Y/n), are you alright? That was a pretty hard fall.” Haley’s soft voice asked you. You felt your heart sing in your chest.

“Yeah Hales, I’m fine. I just pulled a few muscles.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together, “are you sure? As your team captain and your friend, I’m worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You felt warm knowing that she cared about you. “I’m sure, worrywart.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry for asking, grump.” Her laugh sounded like music to your ears.

Your phone vibrated in your pajama pocket, alerting you of your family waiting for you in the car and for you to hurry up. You sighed, “sorry Hales, I gotta go. Dad’s getting impatient.”

She gave you a small smile. “Oh, well, tell your family I said hi! Good work on the court today, I wouldn’t ask for a different setter.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you watched with wide eyes as she left the locker room. Your phone vibrated again, your dad was really starting to get impatient.

You walked out of the school as fast as you could to find your dad’s car waiting for you up front. Jumping in and softly closing the passenger side door, you slumped against the window. “(Y/n),” Tommy’s tired voice slurred. “That. Was. Pog…”

You glanced back to see him and Tubbo snoring away in their seats. Your match was more exciting than usual, so that must’ve really tired them out. You chuckled, turning back around to lean against the window. You took care not to put any weight on your shoulder or back.

“(Y/n), you were amazing out there, but why did you dive for that ball? That fall looked like it hurt.”

You hummed tiredly, “thanks Dad. I just did what I thought would win us the game. We’re going to finals!” You quietly sang.

“Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I actually don’t know, but I think I might’ve pulled a few muscles. Nothing too bad.”

“...I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning during your first and second blocks. I want you to get your back, shoulder, and head looked at. You looked miserable the entire match.”

You sighed, too tired to argue, “mmk.”

He chuckled before the car fell into a comfortable silence. The gentle bouncing of the car and the subtle hum of the engine was lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids were drooping by the time you pulled into your driveway.

You drug yourself out of the car and into the house, leaving Philza with the sleeping boys. You walked straight to your room and plopped down on your bed, passing out instantly for the second time that day.

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i-am-robie · 4 years

Note

short(?) fic idea: kara and lena through the other peoples perspective (ie noonans barista, lena’s driver, takeout cashier or any random ppl)

I read this and my first reaction was, I don’t know how to write a drabble. And then Jack’s voice interrupted me so, this may not be what you’re looking for anon, but here’s what just happened in my head lol...

“I’m just saying,” Jack finishes as they’re finally next in line at Noonan’s, “there’s something going on with them.”

“You’ve got some awfully firm ideas of what for someone with absolutely no evidence,” Sam says smiling and looking down at the pastries in the case.

“I’ve got eyes!” Jack looks affronted

“You know, I think he might be right.”

Sam turns to Kelly in surprise. “Look I know when I first got to National City, I thought they might be dating, too,” Sam says. “But they weren’t!”

“Plus,” Alex breaks in, “Kara would tell me. She’s terrible at keeping secrets.”

They shuffle forward as the line moves. Sam waves them all up to the counter, before greeting the barista. “Hey Tom, I’ll have my usual and whatever this crew is ordering.” She turns back to the group. “It’s on me today, even if Jack couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Oh, how can you not think they’re dating…” Jack starts but he’s interrupted by the barista.

“Jack, are you talking about Kara and Lena?” Jack nods at him. “They’re definitely dating.”

Jack claps his hands together and practically crows with glee. Alex looks like she might pass out. Kelly just smiles. Sam looks gobsmacked.

Alex recovers first. “Tom! What do you mean they’re dating?”

“Oh come on,” says Tom, punching in their drinks, “you see them more than I do, but it’s pretty clear whenever they’re in here. All the soft touches and the blushing and the cheek kissing? That’s dating activity. And Lena never lets Kara pay.”

“Cheek kissing…?” Alex is looking a little green now.

Tom finishes ringing them up and Kelly guides Alex over to wait for their drinks while Jack grabs a table as Sam pays.

“You doing ok there, babe?” Kelly asks. “You look like you’re thinking a little too hard.”

“She’d tell me. I mean, right?” Alex looks at her girlfriend. “If she and Lena were, you know?”

Kelly laughs affectionately. “Maybe they’re still figuring out how to tell you, maybe it’s early, maybe they don’t even know themselves yet.” She looks a little more serious now. “But you’ve seen them together lately. Don’t you think it’s something a little more?”

They pick up the drinks from the counter when they’re ready and walk over to where Jack and Sam have commandeered four large chairs around a low table.

“Gross,” Alex says, squinting down at the writing on the side of second cup she’s holding. “Who ordered the venti pumpkin spice with extra whip?”

“Me!” Jack grins and makes grabby hands. “Sammy and I were continuing our earlier conversation,” he adds while Alex and Kelly take their seats. “She agrees with the premise that Lena and Kara would like to be dating each other, but doesn’t believe me that it’s already happening.”

Sam puts a hand up. “There’s too much pining for that to be the case.”

“They’ll get there when they’re ready,” Kelly says. “If they’re not there already.”

Alex, who’s been silent since handing Jack the drink suddenly looks up. “There’s only one solution,” she says.

Jack leans forward. “I’m all ears love.”

“Tom said it looked to him like they’re dating, right?” The rest of them nod. “If they’re dating in secret, then they’re not going to act that way around us. But around people who they don’t think are watching...?” She looks around the circle.

“They’d be more comfortable,” Sam says thoughtfully.

“I feel like I know where this is going,” Kelly interrupts, “and I need to go on record saying we should just let them be.”

“We need to talk to the people in their lives who aren’t us,” Alex finishes, ignoring Kelly’s advice.

“I’ll make a list,” says Jack. “We can divide and conquer.”

—————-

“Oh, Lena is in here all the time, she’s always sending that sweet girlfriend of hers the most beautiful bouquets,” says the florist, Ruth, when Sam drops by.

“Where does she have them sent?” Sam asks.

“Mostly to CatCo,” Ruth answers, wrapping brown paper around a mix of delphinium, lisianthus, free spirit roses, and starry asters. “Sometimes she’ll come in and pick up the flowers herself, though.”

——————

“Inconclusive,” Alex says, shaking her head when Sam reports back to the group. “Lena has sent Kara flowers at work since she moved from Metropolis.”

“On to the next,” says Jack. “I’ll handle this one.”

——————-

“So, Harvey,” Jack begins, leaning against the wall next to the front desk. “I bet you see everything that goes on in this building, don’t you?”

Harvey grins as he waves a resident through. “Doormen know everything, Jack.”

Jack nods. “So, say, if one of your residents has someone over regularly, you’d see them come and go, right? Get a feel for the relationship?” He’s trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“I’d like to think we can generally tell who guests are to our residents, sure,” Harvey says easily, winking at an older woman passing the desk. She blushes and waves. “Is there something specific you’re looking for, Jack? Or have I misjudged you and you’re just interested in what the job is like.”

Jack grins. “You see right through me, Harvey. I’ll just come out and ask it. Do you think Lena and Kara are dating?”

Harvey gives Jack a long, inscrutable look.

“I wouldn’t want to speculate on the particulars, Jack,” he finally says. “But I’ll tell you this: Ms. Luthor is never happier than when Ms. Danvers is with her.”

——————-

“Well, Harvey was less helpful than Ruth,” Jack complains that evening, pouring himself a drink at Sam's wet bar before joining her and Alex on the couch.

“I have another idea about who to ask next,” Alex says.

—————-

All in all, they talk to as many people as they can think of—from the server at Kara's favorite pizza place (“They always fight about who gets to pay, young love is so sweet”), to Lena’s driver (“It’s not my place, but Sunday night is definitely date night”). Nia even volunteers to ask around CatCo once they bring her up to speed. Apparently, the newsroom is divided on the topic, though everyone agrees there’s something there.

—————-

It comes to a head two weeks later when Sam hosts game night.

Kara corners Alex in the kitchen when Kelly asks for more snacks. Kara comes up next to her as she pours more chips into a bowl, leans against the counter.

“Alex, why did Jimmy at Mr. Huang’s House of Wontons ask me when Lena’s and my anniversary is?”

Alex rubs the back of her neck. When she’d recruited Jimmy to help, she really thought he’d be more subtle. She decides being direct is the best way to handle this.

“Ok so don’t be mad but I might have asked him if he thought you guys were dating in secret.”

Kara looks like heat vision is something Alex should be concerned about right now.

“I know you like her, Kara, you’re about as subtle as a freight train.” Alex clips the top of the chip bag closed, and glances over at Kara.

Kara frowns at that, looking a little vulnerable instead of angry now. “So what if I do?”

“I think everyone in National City knows that Lena likes you,” Alex continues. Kara goes pink and splutters unintelligibly. Alex puts up a hand to stop her. “Jack thought you might be dating and I guess I got worried that you were but didn’t want to tell me because you thought I wouldn’t approve. So I asked around.”

“Well we’re not dating!” Kara says defensively, reaching up to adjust her glasses. “And it’s not cool to go around asking people about us, ok? She’s my best friend and we’re close and maybe I do like her but,” Kara swallows hard and it almost looks like she might cry and now alex knows for certain that they’re not dating but oh does Kara want to be, “we’re not dating. Can you drop it?”

“Kara,” Alex says gently, putting a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “I’m just trying to say it would be ok, if you were dating. We all just want you to be happy. I get that you’re not,” Alex says when Kara starts to interrupt her (and is Alex referring to Kara dating or Kara being happy? She isn’t sure herself), “but I’m trying to tell you it would be great if you were.”

“I just,” Kara looks down at the counter. “Alex I want to, so badly, but I can’t lose her again. We spent so long getting back to this place, you know? What if I ask her out and then I mess it up?”

A throat clears behind them, and Alex and Kara whip their heads around.

“Sam sent me in for drinks,” Lena says, but she’s looking so intently at Kara that Alex decides this might be a good time to leave the kitchen.

Alex just rounding the corner back to the living room when she hears Lena speak again, in a softer voice than Alex has ever heard.

“You wouldn’t mess it up, you know. You couldn’t.”

#ngl this was fun and a little silly but that's kind of my brand #what's an anon #ask robie #also i full on refuse to live in a world where Jack isn't alive and Sam didn't stay #robie writes

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disquietiswhatitis · 3 years

Text

You’re my favorite reason to lose sleep (Sam/Andrea)

Of all the many things Sam has experienced that she did not expect since her relationship with Andrea began, the most surprising by far might be this:

Andrea Rojas snores.

Not always, but she does. It’s a quiet snore, nothing compared to the logs Sam’s father would saw when he fell asleep in front of the tv. Sam’s been with Andrea long enough to know that her lover only starts snoring if either she consistently hasn’t been getting enough sleep or if she’s gotten extremely drunk because she refuses to accept that Sam can outdrink her when it comes to tequila. As fun as drunk Andy can be, they’ve been good about their wine intake and they haven’t had any tequila in the apartment for a little over a month, so Sam figures it must be the lack of sleep. Reaching out, Sam takes a strand of her sleeping fiance’s hair, tucks it behind her ear, whispers “why haven’t you been sleeping baby?” and places a quick, tender kiss to Andrea’s shoulder. It’s a rhetorical question. Andrea snores again. Now, Sam loves Andrea. Truly, passionately loves her as does Andrea with Sam. While past heartbreaks have taught her to tread more cautiously, Sam still loves so easily and has so much to give. Andrea, conversely, hadn’t felt worthy of love in so long, she built walls that made it hard for her to receive or convey it. Somehow, much to the surprise of them both, Sam shattered those walls. They’ve been through their fair share in the time they’ve been together. While communication hasn’t always been their strongest suit, they’ve put in the time and effort to get better at it because they both enthusiastically agree that the other is so worth it. Knowing this, Sam is aware that she could ask Andrea what’s wrong, that Andrea would tell her and that they could go from there. However, Andrea is also asleep at the moment and Sam can’t think of anything else. She can’t put on her airpods and distract herself with her audiobook. The sultry voice of the narrator combined with the scene she was last narrating, well, it would make her want to wake Andrea up and... do things. Sam doesn’t know what she’d watch on any of the way-too-many-streaming-services-they-rarely-use without Andrea cuddled up with her on the couch. She’s not particularly hungry and she already went to the gym this morning. Reaching over to her nightstand, Sam puts on her reading glasses, grabs her phone and starts scrolling through social media she doesn’t really use. She likes a few photos of Alex and Kelly with their daughter. She glances through some articles about current events. After about five minutes, Sam sets her glasses and phone down and lets out a small huff. She can’t help but still think about it. Why hasn’t Andrea been sleeping? Sam gets up and walks to her dresser. She pulls out a pair of underwear and a slightly too large tee shirt, puts them on and goes to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Grabbing a mug out of the cabinet that had a picture of two avocados on the top row, three on the middle row and four on the bottom that said “avocados, avocatres, avoquatro,” Sam ponders her lover’s possible sleep-depriving woes. “It’s not Obsidian, right?” Sam thinks as she pours water from their filter into a mug, a gift she had gotten Andrea during their vacation to Miami. Sam knows how much it hurt Andrea when her company fell, but Sam stood by her side through it all and figured Andrea’s sleepless nights over that were over. “Could it be CatCo?” the brunette contemplates as she finishes her water and goes to refill it. Maybe. The print media conglomerate’s business model transition in an increasingly print-less world had been a bit of mixed bag even before Lena purchased it all those years ago. She knows Andrea likes the work she does at CatCo well enough, but she’d definitely noticed that her mood get a little more sour for a bit when it was the only thing she had left after Obsidian. Not that CatCo was a consolation prize but Andrea loved being on the cutting edge of the tech world and short of some major restructuring, CatCo just wouldn’t provide the same opportunity. Still, the business wasn’t struggling. They had a few layoffs some months ago, which led to some incredibly passive aggressive back and forth jabs between Kara and Andrea at game night shortly thereafter, but otherwise everything was fine. “Ok, lightning round” Sam states to herself, setting down her mug so she can count off with her fingers all the possibilities it could be. It’s definitely not the bills and nothing broke or needed repair around their home. Sam’s truck is functioning like a dream. They bought their outfits for the Lena Luthor Foundation gala two days ago. Andrea bought a dashing suit and Sam an incredibly curve-hugging dress, respectively; Sam thought it was a refreshing change of pace but she was more looking forward to the suit and tie look she had planned when she married Andrea...

Marry Andrea. The wedding. Sam forgot to mail out the invitations. Shit. Sam runs over to the table by the door and sure enough, there they were. A whole stack of save the dates that Sam had set down on Sunday evening, promising to mail them out first thing on Monday. It was Friday night. Fuck.

Quickly but quietly running to their home office, Sam pulls out a sticky note and a sharpie out of the desk drawer and in all caps writes “DO NOT FORGET.” Careful to put the sticky note and pen away quietly, Sam returns to the table by the entrance. She grabs the invitations, goes back to the kitchen and places them on the counter with the note and her purse next to them. There was no reason to try to hide her snafu from Andrea. They have a good relationship and Sam is confident Andrea will forgive her so long as she’s honest and apologizes (and credit to her Catholic boarding school education, Andrea sometimes really enjoys making Sam beg for forgiveness.) Refilling her water, Sam heads back to their bedroom, discarding her clothes and thinking of how she’s going to make it up to Andrea tomorrow. As soon as she climbs into bed, her partner, still in her sleeping position, states “you’re thinking too loud” in a voice that lets Sam know she’s awake but not fully conscious. Sam still smiles at the sound of her voice and happily says “Hey, you’re up.” Andrea turns, changes from laying on her left side to her right in order to face her significant other. “I am. What were you thinking about?” Sam just smiles “You. Always.” Andrea smiles back. “Oh? Do tell.” Sam tells her “You were snoring.” Andrea deflates. “You sure know how to woo a woman, Sammy.” Sam picks up Andrea’s left hand and points to the rock on Andrea’s ring finger “Damn straight. Exhibit A.” Andrea smiles again “You’ve got me there.” “So why the snoring? Is everything okay?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, everything’s fine honey. I just stayed up way too late...reading.” The way Andrea says “reading” catches Sam’s attention. Whatever Andrea was reading, Sam can tell she’s not not embarrassed by it and it almost certainly wasn’t a sales report. “Oh. What were you reading?” Sam teases playfully. Andrea couldn’t refuse the dimples facing her even if she wanted to. She just hopes the teasing won’t be too severe. “Buffy and Faith fanfic” Andrea states rather bluntly. Sam laughs. Andrea loves that laugh; it’s one of the many ways Sam broke down her barriers and made Andrea fall in love. “That’s great babe. Did you enjoy it?” Sam asks, no longer laughing but still smiling and still completely sincere. Sam is not mocking in any way, just delighted at the fact a successful CEO of a multimillion dollar company stayed up too late reading about a twenty year old ship. Andrea knows this and while she knows it’s not an interest Sam shares, Sam actively listens and encourages Andrea when she talks about it because Sam knows it matters to her. Andrea loves Sam so freaking much. Andrea delicately runs her hand up Sam’s arm and says “I enjoy us” in an overtly suggestive tone. Sam doesn’t need to be told twice. She goes for Andrea’s neck first; slow, steady kisses, savoring every pulse beat she can feel as Andrea’s breathing starts to shallow. She works her way up to Andrea’s earlobe and bites it just enough to get a moan out of Andrea without leaving (much of) a mark as her lover’s hands grasp at Sam’s shoulders. Sam kisses her way across Andrea’s wonderful jawline, pulling back just before Andrea’s luscious lips can connect with hers. Andrea’s lips instinctively chase after Sam’s but Sam pulls her head back just a bit farther to stay out of reach and tease the shorter woman, if only for a moment. She goes back in and Eskimo kisses her nose with Andrea’s. The buildup is excruciating for Andrea but damn if not’s always worth it. A breath away from Andrea’s lips, Sam looks into her eyes and asks “Yeah?” Andrea rolls onto her back. Sam follows, her arms on either side of Andrea’s head, to stay positioned above her lover. Andrea tosses aside the blanket and with it, the sight of her exquisite body is completely bare for Sam to drink in. Sam’s eye dilate and the only way Andrea can describe her look is carnal. Taking in the site of the sculpted woman above her, she knows she can reciprocate that desire. Andrea huskily replies “Yeah” and as she hungrily grabs Sam’s face to bring her in for a searing kiss, their bodies suddenly writhing against one another, Sam figured it’d probably be okay to wait to tell her about the invitations.

Author’s note: I actually felt inspired to write a short Reignjas ficlet yesterday and I went with it. As the idea kept expanding, it wound up heading in a direction I’ve never tried to write before. I ended up putting more thought and hours into it than I had expected, staying up to the point where I maybe had to call out of work this morning (my life’s a mess but that’s not important right now.) Anyway, this isn’t that final ficlet. I’ll probably be working on that (more responsibly) for a little bit but I felt confident enough that I wanted to post this (mostly) smut free version. Hope y’all enjoy it.

#reignjas #rojarias #sam arias #andrea rojas #writing #ficlet #fanfic #supergirl #sam x andrea

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Dreams, Chapter 16

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

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

Title: Dreams, Chapter 16

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

Word Count: 1754

Summary: Some of Sam’s efforts to ‘nest’ in their new life together reveal new possibilities.

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

Water laps at the weather-beaten wood of the dock underneath you slowly and the rhythm feels like hypnosis with the sun beating down a blanket. You sense Dean at your side without opening your eyes.

“So…was he any good?”

You can’t help but laugh, hearing the echo go out over the small lake, and get up to your elbows. It’s bright enough that you have to squint over at Dean where he lays next to a couple fishing poles and a cooler, t shirt hitched up to show a sliver of his stomach with his arms behind his head. His smile is devilish, made even more smug with eyes closed against the sun so his lashes cast an inch-long shadow on the dusting of freckles across his cheeks. “You can’t ask that!” you giggle.

His lips flatten into a knowing line. “So that’s a no?”

“Jesus Christ, of course it’s not a n—you know what, I’m not talking to you about this,” you smile, laying back down.

“Ooh, so it’s a yes,” he teases as he turns on his side to face you. “Go Sammy. That mean you two are, like, going steady now?”

You let your head loll over to him and roll your eyes. “Are you done?”

“Not yet. Is he going to let you wear his letterman jacket? Take you to junior prom?”

“I’m giving you ten more seconds.”

Dean laughs, free and easy. “Fine, okay, I’m done. Wait—did he wrap it?”

“DEAN!” you yell, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Okay, alright, okay.” He’s still chuckling when you open your eyes to look over at him and reaches over to slip a piece of hair behind your ear. “You, ah, you seem happy.”

You search his eyes for any hidden anger and find only the softness of calm affection with a pinch of solemnity. Where his hand lingers in your hair you turn into it, pressing your lips to Dean’s palm. “I am.”

Dean smiles, straight teeth a perfect row of pearls so white you think for a second they might ‘ding’ with sparkle like a cartoon, and he looks relaxed enough as he puts his hands back behind his head that it calls up images of a kitten falling asleep in a sunny spot like this even as he keeps his eyes on you. “Took you guys long enough.”

“And you’re still okay with this?”

“Yeah, hell yeah. That’s the best I could ever ask for, you two happy. So, what do you say? Want to see if we can catch some fish?”

Spring was a blessing; clean greenness breaking through the grey and white purifying the air and breathing new life into you, Sam, and the community you’d come to be a part of. The cabin was that much nicer with the new hours of sunlight pouring through the windows and all the upgrades you had put into it, to the point that you began to feel truly comfortable there. You even invited the Kaisers over for dinner a few times, feeling more like equal partners in your burgeoning friendship with them.

You started to feel stable enough to get things; picked up a bookshelf at the combination flea/farmer’s market that happened in the K-12 school’s field every Saturday morning and got higher quality spatulas to cook with, the kinds of nonessential stuff you never would’ve bought before knowing you were going to stay in one place long enough to get good use out of them. Sam, in turn, kept building: changing the locks to sturdier ones and erecting a shed big enough to hold a lawn mower.

You’d been cooking on an early Sunday afternoon when Sam came home and crossed the cabin in a few strides, giving you a kiss on the cheek before setting a thick paper bag down on the kitchen counter. “Smells great, what’re you making?”

“Ratatouille!” you buzzed, placing a slice of eggplant carefully into its slot. “I’ve never had it, but I’ve always thought it looks so pretty. Hopefully it’s good. Where were you?”

“Hardware store. I thought maybe I could build a greenhouse; see if we could grow anything. Might be enough to work against the cold.”

You raised your eyebrows in appreciative surprise. “Look at you! What’re you thinking? Poppies? Platinum OG? Purple Haze?”

Setting a box of screws down, Sam rolled his eyes through a smile. “My plan was more along the lines of tomatoes or something, but I’ll, uh, take those suggestions under advisement.” You had a sudden urge to twist a gentle finger into the dimple that stayed on his cheek as he unloaded the rest of his supplies but didn’t want to embarrass him, instead sweeping some garlic skins into your hand to throw into the small bucket Sam kept under the sink to collect scraps for the compost pile. When the bag was empty he refolded it and took off his jacket, passing by you to put it on its hook by the door. “Want any help?” he asked, sounding about as breezy as you’d ever heard him.

“It just has to bake for about an hour. Does a late lunch work with your construction schedule?”

Sam leaned over to slip a hand around your waist and kissed the top of your head before grabbing an armful of stuff to take outside. “Definitely. Just yell when you’re ready for me.”

You giggled and waggled your eyebrows suggestively. “I’m always ready for you.”

He tried his best not to blush but bit his lip in spite of himself, looking up at you with a bashful twinkle in his eye. “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

In response you held up a spare slice of zucchini that Sam readily accepted, opening his mouth like an obedient puppy and chewing as he went out the back door.

You loved watching Sam work on his greenhouse in the weeks that followed, getting so excited about the tiny shoots sprouting up from the soil that he sometimes woke up early to check on them before starting his day. After a few weeks he woke you up one morning with a cup of coffee, bare-chested under slightly sleep-tangled hair and the hems of his flannel pants sloppily half inside his boots. “I wanna show you something,” he said, throat still gravelly. You accepted the mug and got out of bed, following him drowsily and jamming your feet inside your shoes at the door, too tired to worry about the laces.

He led you into the greenhouse with its clear plastic walls and pointed down at a petite bud on top of a green stalk. It had the telltale waviness of a basil leaf, and when you bent down to look closer at it the plant already smelled herbaceous. “It’s so cute!” you hummed. Sam practically glowed with satisfaction, an unbridled smile the perfect accessory to the broad span of his chest where it was backlit by the fuzzy light through the greenhouse walls. You straightened and rubbed his back in congratulations, staring down at the plant together with your coffees like parents on Christmas morning. Tucked in the corner of the greenhouse behind the basil, a scattering of bitty white flowers caught your eye against the burnt umber soil.

“Wait, you already have stuff flowering in here? What’s that?” you asked, tiptoeing around the wooden stakes in the soil to get closer.

“Oh—I, uh—” he stammered behind you.

At arm’s length the flowers looked vaguely familiar and you stopped short. “Is that—?” You turned back to Sam, who seemed not to be able to come up with anything to say, his face the kind of blank surprise that indicated he didn’t know whether you were about to be upset. “Really? Where’d you even…how did you get some?”

He tucked his hair behind his ears to stall for even a half second. “I—well, I found a guy who got me—got us—some.”

“You still have an African dream root hookup?”

Sam’s lips pressed into a well-practiced silent ‘I guess?’ and he reached back to ruffle the hair at the nape of his neck, the movement stretching his side distractingly enough that if you hadn’t been so startled by the discovery of a plot of dream root literally in your own backyard you might’ve forgotten what you were talking about altogether.

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, waiting for him to explain.

“I made some calls, found someone in Milwaukee who got his hands on some and he mailed it here. I didn’t want to, uh, tell you in case I couldn’t get it to grow.”

All kinds of possibilities and frustrations raced through your head. “So you’ve had this for weeks? That’s why you built the greenhouse?” Sam didn’t answer fast enough. “Never mind, I don’t care,” you found yourself saying, and surprisingly, actually meaning. You took a deep breath to stop the words from jumbling together. “Do you think it’ll work?” you breathed, knowing he would understand the real question: would we be able to see Dean together?

“Only one way to find out.”

For whatever reason you’d gotten freshly showered, made up, and dressed before brewing the tea with Sam on your next day off of work. It felt like there should be some level of pomp and circumstance about it, this giant undertaking that might be able to change your whole life again, even knowing that your prep wouldn’t translate into a dream. You were giddy with anxiety and almost wished you could reasonably put it off, the idea of this new possibility being yet another dead end making you nauseous.

“Your place or mine?” you asked, trying to put a little sheen of humor on your nerves.

Sam chuckled but you could tell he was nervous too, rubbing his palms dry on the knees of his jeans over and over again. “You haven’t done it before, right?”

You shook your head. “Is there a learning curve or something?”

“Honestly it’s been long enough that I don’t really remember. Hold on—hold still.” He reached out and very gingerly swept a finger across your cheekbone, drawing back to show you an eyelash stuck to the whorl of its pad.

You straightened where you sat on the edge of the bed. “That’s as good a sign as any. Cheers, I guess.” Sam dropped the tiny hair into his mug and touched the ceramic to yours, his eyes hopeful and reassuring as you took tandem sips.

And then you were off.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 17

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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plaidbooks · 3 years

Note

Could you do an imagine of having a fling with Carisi and getting pregnant?

Fling

A/N: Hey Anon! Heck yes I can do that! Remember peeps, if you’re gonna have a ONS, be safe about it! Hope you enjoy

Tags: alcohol and bad decisions, mentions of smut, mentions of vomiting

Words: 1726

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

It had been…a long day. You were the owner of a coffee shop that doubled as a bookstore, and three employees had up and quit on you. You had scrambled to find replacements, and while the new kids were working out well, they were still new, and needed a lot of handholding. So, on Saturday night, with the shop closed on Sundays, you went to the bar, hoping to just drink until you could forget about your worries for a little bit. What you weren’t expecting was for the ridiculously cute man, his suit jacket over the back of his chair and his sleeves rolled up, to buy you a drink. You were already pretty drunk, your inhibitions low, so you chatted with the stranger, who also seemed pretty far gone.

“Why don’t we take this party back to my place?” you eventually asked, and he agreed, a lopsided smirk on his face, his bright blue eyes clouded with alcohol.

In the back of the cab, you had drunkenly kissed him, and he kissed you back, both of you exploring each other’s bodies with your hands. Pulling up at your place, you dragged him inside. Once the door was closed, he had pushed you up against the wall, his mouth biting and sucking at your neck. You grabbed at his gelled hair, pulling soft groans from him as he marked you. You both eventually made it to the bedroom, naked, and you pulled him on top of you as you collapsed onto the bed.

“Fuck me—give me all you got,” you purred at him, and he growled, shoving himself into you roughly. You moaned as he thrusted into you hard and deep. When you came, clenching around him, he was right behind you, spilling his release deep within you. You passed out soon after that, his arms draped over you.

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

When you awoke, the man was already gone, leaving no trace of himself behind, except the marks on your neck and a small, handwritten note on your bedside table.

Last night was incredible. Sorry I left so quickly—I had work. Maybe we can do dinner sometime? – Sonny

He had written his number after his name, and while the sex—from what you remembered—was great, you really didn’t want a relationship right now. It was just a fling, a one-night stand. So, you crumpled up his note and threw it away before getting in the shower.

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

The new employees were finally settling in, and life was getting back to normal. Though, you were still stressed with everything going on—it was the summer months, which meant tourists, which meant business. And while you were grateful for the profits you were bringing in, you really needed to hire on some extra help. You vaguely noticed that your period was late, but that was probably from the stress—it had happened before. Besides, you didn’t remember when you had it last month, so you weren’t positive how late you were, really.

You decided to sleep early that night—you had so many interviews the next day. So, setting an alarm for 6am, you went to bed, hoping for a full night’s sleep. But you tossed and turned all night, your stomach killing you. At 3am, you got up, sprinting to your bathroom, barely making it before you puked your guts out. Oh God, you could not afford to be sick at a time like this. You couldn’t sleep after that, still feeling nauseous, and vomiting once more after eating a light breakfast. Groaning in pain, you sent a mass message to all your potential employees, asking for them to please reschedule, and then you called your doctor.

“When was the last time you had your period?” she had asked, running an ultrasound.

You shook your head. “I don’t know, last month? I’ve been…too busy. I honestly don’t remember….”

She put the machine down, letting the nurse start disinfecting it. She gave you a small smile. “Well, you’re pregnant.”

“I-what? But…but I haven’t had…” you trailed off, remembering the drunken night in the bar, the man you had taken home. You didn’t even remember his name, let alone the phone number he had scrawled underneath his message. And that was weeks ago! That paper was long gone.

The doctor nodded knowingly. “You’re about six weeks along. Come back to the examination room; I’ll give you pamphlets, answer any questions you have.” You nodded, hopping of the ultrasound table, being extra careful now—you had life inside you!

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

The doctor had talked for you for upwards of an hour; you wanted to keep the baby, that was definite. But how would you make time for it? Pay for it? You were so conflicted, so incredibly happy yet so incredibly stressed, lost. You had family you could talk to, and you were sure they’d help you, too. But you were going to be a single mother. You struggled to remember the man’s name; it was something light and fun. Benny? Sammy? That wasn’t right. You didn’t even know what he did for a living; hell, you vaguely remembered what he looked like. Gelled hair, tall, blue eyes.

And besides, what was the point of finding him? Did you think he’d want to be apart of this? Or would he laugh in your face and run, determined to not have to pay child support? Giving up on the idea, you decided to just do this on your own—outside help from family and nurses, of course.

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

Six months later, you were well into your pregnancy, your belly swelling in front of you. Jury summons clutched in your hand, you waddled your way into the courthouse. You couldn’t be a juror at this time, but when you had tried to call the number on the paper, it kept saying disconnected. So now, here you were, pissed and exhausted, making your way to whoever could postpone your summons until after you gave birth.

“Here, lemme get that door for you,” a man’s voice said. He rushed in front of you, holding the door open and you froze, staring at him. He furrowed his brow at you, scanning your face in confusion—not because you had stopped moving, but because there was the faintest hint of recognition. “Have we, uh, have we met before?” he asked.

Gelled hair, tall, blue eyes. He was obviously a lawyer, coming to work. But how were you going to bring this up to him? “Ah, no, sorry sir. Thank you for the door,” you muttered, shuffling past him.

He watched you walk by him, then fell into step next to you, easily keeping pace with his long legs. “Are you sure? You look so familiar….”

“Positive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find where I can postpone my jury summons,” you replied, your voice flat.

He stopped in his tracks, letting you walk away, and you let out a sigh. But you didn’t make it far before he shouted, “wait!” He jogged after you, catching up quickly. He grabbed your elbow, leading you away from the crowded hall. He dropped his voice. “Did we…meet at a bar? This would’ve been months ago—I understand if you’ve forgotten me.”

He really didn’t get it, did he? “Yes, we did.”

The man nodded, his forehead crinkled as he thought. “I’m not gonna lie; I was a little sad when you didn’t call,” he joked. “But I’m glad to see you’re doing well, and that you found someone.”

His smile was so genuine, so sincere…he really didn’t get it! He figured you didn’t like him, that you had found someone else, settled down. “Uh, thanks. I’m still painfully single though,” you replied, forcing a smile.

You turned to walk away, leaving him stunned. Following the signs, you quickly found your way to the window you needed, negotiating a new date in another six months for your jury duty. Having that taken care of, you made your way out of the bowels of the courthouse. You had almost made it to the front doors when the man from the bar had tracked you down once more.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I-I have to know….” His voice dropped to a whisper, “is it…mine?” His bright blue eyes flickered to your belly, then back to your face.

You could’ve said no, denied it and spared him. But something must have shown on your face, because his eyes filled with such sadness, such regret. So, you had no choice but to say, “yes, it’s yours.”

He took a shuttering breath, looking like he was on the verge of tears. “I…I’m so sorry. I-I should’ve used a condom.” He ran a hand through his hair, tears really springing up in his eyes now. “Fuck, I’m such an asshole.”

“Look,” you said, trying to stop his self-hating streak. “It takes two to make a baby, okay? I’m…just as irresponsible as you.” That made him let out a soft sob, and you switched to trying to make him feel better. “I’m not due for another two-ish months; why don’t we…I don’t know, get dinner one night? I mean…if you want—”

“Yes, please,” he replied. “I…I want to be in my baby’s life, no matter what happens between you and I. Please.”

He was desperate, and it was hard to say no. But you also needed to know him first. “Okay. Let’s start slow, get to know each other. We can figure out everything else later.”

He nodded. “Why—why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked. He didn’t sound mad, just confused, wondering why you would choose to keep this from him, to do this on your own.

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “I, uh, threw out your note and I’ve…forgotten your name. I had no way to find you. And besides, I was…afraid you’d be upset about it, afraid you’d ask me to t-terminate—”

His eyes went wide, “no, I would never!” He took a deep, shuttering breath. “Let’s…let’s start over.” He held his hand out to you. “My name is Dominick Carisi, but you can call me Sonny.”

Smiling, you took his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Sonny. Now, if you don’t mind, my feet are killing me, and I need to sit before my legs collapse.”

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #Anonymous

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Strangers (Part 4)

Summary: Sam has returned into Dean’s life for some reason and the reader is there to try and help Dean through having Sam around again...

Masterlist

Pairing: Doctor!Dean x patient!reader

Word Count: 2,000ish

Warnings: language, mention of surgery/injury

A/N: I hope you enjoy!

____

“Hi,” said Sam, giving you a quick wave. He stared at Dean who was already on his feet. “I need a place to crash for the night. If that’s okay.”

“What happened to the apartment, you were sharing with that girl, Jessica.”

“She died a few years ago,” he said.

“You kill her?” asked Dean. You got up, still holding your box of swiss rolls and Sam frowned. “You’ve been out of touch for three years. It’s not an unreasonable question.”

“I didn’t kill her,” said Sam. “I saw...it was a serial arsonist. I saw who did it and he ran with a bad group. I’ve been in witness-”

“Witness protection? Are you serious? I’m the fucking easter bunny while we’re at it,” said Dean.

“De, I think he’s telling the truth,” you said, nodding towards him. “He’s obviously upset.”

“You’ve been in witness protection? This whole time?”

“Yes,” said Sam. “Things have been happening lately. A lot of things. These guys are no longer a problem so I can come home. Except for the fact I don’t have a home anymore and had to drop out of college.”

“I filed a missing persons report on you.”

“I know.”

“I hung up flyers, search parties, fundraisers.”

“I know.”

“I drove to the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night because I thought I got a tip about you.”

“That was me. I had to relocate after that.”

“I looked for you for so long. Even when mom and dad gave up, I didn’t. There was no foul play but the cops told us it was unlikely we’d ever find you. You probably walked out and didn’t want to be found. I was so angry at you. They told us you were dead cause someone hurt you or you walked away. Those are two very different things,” said Dean. You dropped the box on the couch and grabbed his hand, Dean pinching his nose with his other.

“I can leave if you want,” said Sam.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” said Dean. You rubbed his back and he walked over, giving his brother a hug.

“Finally got a girlfriend?” teased Sam as he returned it.

“You two are gonna get along great. You can swap stories,” laughed Dean. “Oh, I need a drink. Also how’d you get in my house?”

“My handler had a key made. They took it from your locker at the hospital,” he said.

“Lovely.”

“I know it sounds…” said Sam as he glanced at you.

“Crazy is kind of our thing,” you said. “I’m Y/N.”

“You look familiar,” he said.

“My ex boyfriend tried to kill me. With bleach. In my drink.”

“Oh yeah. He was fucking nuts,” said Sam.

“Yup. That’s been our fun for the evening,” you said. “He got out. He’s dead now. It’s fine. Better than fine cause I’m gonna eat a whole box of swiss rolls and not feel bad about that.”

“Yeah, I will get along with you just fine,” said Sam, giving Dean a look. “Not sure about you though. I wanted to-”

“S’okay,” he said. “I’m just...happy you don’t hate me after all.”

“I wanted to call you so many times. It was too dangerous though. I couldn’t put you in that position,” said Sam.

“I’m getting kind of used to that,” said Dean. Sam smiled and you walked over to them both.

“I crashed date night, didn’t I,” he said.

“Just a bit,” said Dean.

“Well I am really happy to meet Dean’s little brother,” you said, giving him a hug. “You don’t mind if Sam hangs out with us, right?”

“No, never. As long as you’re cool with it,” said Dean.

“Of course,” you said.

“I appreciate it but honestly I’m wrecked. I could use with a shower and a bed,” said Sam.

“The guest room is right down the hall,” said Dean, pointing the way. “You hungry?”

“Nah. I’ll keep out of your guys hair,” said Sam. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem,” said Dean. Sam started to head for the hallway when Dean grabbed his arm. “I’m really happy you’re home, Sammy.”

“Me too.”

He smiled before he left, Dean taking a deep breath as he locked up the front door again.

“So you got a brother,” you said.

“Yeah. I probably should have brought him up at some point,” said Dean. You shrugged and rested your hands on his hips, Dean smiling softly. “I thought he was dead.”

“I’m glad he’s not,” you said. “I’m gonna have to back out on the being roommates thing though.”

“What?” he asked.

“Sam needs it way more than I do. I can stick around my parents until my apartment is ready. Seriously, it’s okay. He’s gonna need a lot of help. Trust me. He’s gonna want you,” you said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. My parents aren’t that bad. Someday we can be roommates though?” you said.

“Okay. I’ll take a raincheck for now,” he smiled.

“Tonight’s not so bad,” you said. He nodded and you pulled him close to your body, Dean’s arms wrapping lazily around you. “You doing okay?”

“I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, the most terrified I’ve ever been in my life and the most relieved I’ve ever been in my life tonight. I honestly don’t know where to begin,” said Dean.

“I got a box of chocolate with your name on it that might be a good place to start.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” he said. “You okay too?”

“My night’s ending on a good note. I’m good Dean. Let’s get back to our date. I was in the middle of cuddling you if I remember.”

One Week Later

“Howdy handsome,” you said, the elevator doors at the hospital opening to Dean standing there in his navy scrubs.

“Gorgeous,” he said, giving you a quick kiss as he stepped on. “You already have your follow up with Mace?”

“Yeah. I am progressing well I guess. We’re switching my immunosuppressant to try something that doesn’t make me as tired and won’t make me as susceptible to illness,” you said.

“That’s good. I know you’re on the strong stuff right now. Mace is pretty good about finding the right med combo by the second or third try,” he said. “Transplant meds are tricky.”

“I’ve learned. How’s your day going?” you asked. “Saving lives?”

“Easy going day. Took out some tonsils on a teenager, did an appendectomy on a toddler, did a bone reset on a kid that broke her leg. Nothing they won’t all recover from 100% percent.”

“That sounds good,” you said. “When do you get off?”

He snickered and you whacked his arm.

“Such a boy,” you said.

“I have one more surgery for the day but I’m heading home after that. Our parents are coming into town. They’ve been in Florida cause their vacation plans got screwed up with the pandemic last year so they rescheduled and of course it’s this week and there’s tropical storms so they can’t get a flight out and they finally are getting home today. It’s been a nightmare. I’m supposed to cook dinner so that’ll go wonderfully.”

“You’re a good cook!” you said as the doors opened and you walked with him down the hall. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. They excited to see Sam?”

“Yeah. They feel bad about...they thought he was dead. Like it hasn’t been long enough to legally declare him that way but they were going to. I’ve always had a somewhat tense relationship with my dad. We fought a lot about Sam after he disappeared.”

“I think no matter what happened before, dinner’s gonna go good for you guys tonight,” you said.

“You’re coming right?” he asked.

“You want me to?”

“Yeah. I...you make me feel...safe,” he said as he stopped walking. You smiled and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together. “You don’t have-”

“I’d love to. I really like Sam and I want to be there for you. I like that I make you feel safe, makes me feel good,” you said. He rubbed the back of his neck but you caught the smile on his face. You gave him another kiss, a whistle coming from further down the hall.

“Get a room, Winchester,” said a guy as he walked by with a laugh.

“Better be a soundproof room,” you said, the guy stopping in his tracks.

“Okay, I approve of this one,” the guy chuckled. Dean rolled his eyes but he was biting down a laugh.

“Y/N, this is RN. Lafetite or Benny as well call him. He’s Donna’s boyfriend,” said Dean.

“Oh yeah, she was great,” you said. “She removed my appendix.”

“That woman knows her way around a blade,” said Benny. “You had the digestive transplant done a while ago, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, Dean making a face beside you.

“Badass,” said Benny. “I worked with Mace some on you.”

“You’re a surgeon too?” you asked.

“No, no. I’m a surgical nurse,” he said.

“They’re pretty important,” said Dean. “The really good ones could perform minor surgeries themselves like Ben. I keep trying to convince Benny here to go to med school and join the rest of us.”

“Oh you know you’d miss me too much, Deano. You me and Novak are the dream team of pediatrics,” he said.

“Sure we are,” said Dean with a laugh. “Y/N and I were having a little get together on Sunday, watch a little football, food. Round up the usual suspects?”

“I can get the crew together. I’ll bring my beer dip and some of those pretzels. Very easy on the digestive system,” said Benny to you.

“That’s considerate,” you said. “It’s okay. I’m alright with most stuff. I just got to watch the grease a bit.”

“These are really not greasy at all. I’ll give you the recipe sometime,” said Benny as his phone went off. “I think we’re late for pre-op.”

“When are we not?” said Dean. “I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”

“See you later, Dean.”

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” said Dean that night as he rushed in the house. You and Sam were working the kitchen, Dean checking the clock. “They’re gonna be here in five minutes.”

“Go wash up. Sam and I can cook a few pieces of chicken and make mashed potatoes,” you said. You were nearly finished anyways, the chicken baking away in the oven. Dean made a thud down the hall but shouted back that he was fine before you heard the bathroom door shut. “He always been a worrier?”

“Pretty much,” said Sam as he got out the plates. “He seems different. Good different. More easy going.”

“It’s all I’ve ever known from him so I don’t have much to go off of,” you said.

“You might have something to do with it,” he said. He smiled and finished up with setting the table. “You’ve never met our parents Dean said.”

“No. We’ve only been together a few months,” you said.

“This’ll be an interesting evening then,” said Sam as the doorbell rang. He suddenly looked nervous and you rubbed a hand up and down his back.

“It’ll be okay,” you said. “Trust me.”

“I see why he likes you,” said Sam. “Here goes nothing.”

______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #au #doctor!dean #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader

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ren1327 · 3 years

Text

Sweater Weather Ch.8

Hi guys!

So exciting news. Sweater Weather is almost complete at this point to where I will try to post the latest chapters Wednesdays and Sundays. I'm really jazzed that I'm going to wrap this project up and excited to get started on new ones.

As always, thanks for being so patient and I cant wait to bring you guys more content this autumn season!

-----------------------------------------------

Ben woke up with Kenji’s face in his stomach, his body folded over him as he rest on a pillow laid over the larger man’s back.

The sun was just peeking through the trees and he heard a whine, Bumpy scratching at the front door.

“Kenji.” Ben called.

Kenji groaned.

“Kenji, Bumpy needs to go for a walk.” Ben said.

“No…”

“Kenji, we slept in the living room, come on.”

“I got her, Ben!” Carmen said and walked in the room, dressed in a cute set of rainbow snow boots and a matching jacket. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. You guys should take a power nap on the bed to straighten out your spines.”

“Thank you, Carmen.” Kenji said, voice muffled in Ben’s sternum.

Ben chuckled and pet the back of his head before lightly smacking it. “Come on.”

Kenji slapped his thigh back a little too hard.

“Ow! That hurt!” Ben huffed.

“I can kiss it better.” Kenji hummed.

“…you can reach more in bed.” Ben murmured and Kenji slid back and sat up.

“I’m up.” Kenji said and Ben laughed, pushing him back so he could hobble to their bedroom, pulling back the quilts and comforters and sliding in, Kenji not wasting a moment joining him.

Ben blushed and pulled him close, kissing his forehead as the larger man sighed softly. Kenji snuggled into the smaller man’s chest and Ben hugged him best he could.

“This is nice.” Kenji hummed and Ben chuckled.

“Yeah.”

He closed his eyes and for a moment, imagined dry grassland or manicured shrubbery around buildings in San Antonio.

He would wake up like this every morning. Maybe with Kenji curled around him, he curled around Kenji, back to back or to one of Kenji’s rare starfish moments. Ben would most likely wake up first and get coffee going, then whine for Kenji to cook something. They’d eat together, go to work, maybe shower or go grocery shopping together, Bumpy next to them on her leash.

Domestic and happy.

He didn’t think it was possible.

Some part of him felt he didn’t deserve it.

And a smaller part of him wanted to grab and hold on to the image of he and Kenji walking hand and hand into a building where people were laughing and hanging out, waving good morning to them and a wall of smiling families who they had helped near the door.

He felt Kenji’s breathing deepen and felt him relax into sleep, his fingers massaging his scalp through the black locks.

…could they get married and start a family too?

He blushed and hugged Kenji closer.

With both hands, he held on to the image tight.

He could be happy.

Ben woke to the smell of French toast, bacon and hazelnut coffee.

He blinked awake, noticing a large pillow in his arms instead of the firstborn Kon heir.

“Morning, Sleepybutt.” Kenji said as he walked in with a tray.

“Afternoon.” Ben said, glancing at the clock.

“Not noon yet.” Kenji said, holding the plate out. “And bacon is an all-day thing.”

“This is turkey bacon.” Ben said.

“Cause too much grease gives you heart burn.” Kenji said. “I listened to you complain on the phone with Sammy the other night.”

“I love you.” Ben sighed and took the plate, then froze.

Kenji was blushing and staring at him.

“I-I mean…”

“Yeah!” Kenji shouted. “I get it. Um, I forgot…cream! For the coffee!”

Kenji quickly escaped the room, leaving Ben to blush down at the food, hoping things couldn’t get more awkward.

Things got more awkward.

Ben and Kenji were walking to the lighthouse, hands brushing, but not touching after a tense brunch.

Carmen once again kept Bumpy close, Kenji asking Ben if he wanted to explore the old light house.

Trudging up the gravel path, they made it to the tall structure, Kenji opening the door for Ben.

“I thought this needs a lighthouse keeper.” Ben said.

“Owen checks on it every other night, but it’s fully on a timer and the diagnostics are sent to us if anything looks suspicious.” Kenji said.

“So…your lighthouse is on a timer?”

“Pretty much.” Kenji said. “Buuuut…”

He pulled Ben close and smiled.

“More privacy.” Kenji said and kissed Ben’s cold nose.

Ben scoffed and pushed him away, then started up the stairs, Kenji right behind him as they both raced to the top, Kenji winning with his longer legs. The smaller man panted and Kenji opened the door, the very breath leaving Ben as he walked out and saw over the lake.

“Oh…” He whispered and stared out over the water and snow.

Kenji came up behind him, hugging him around the waist. “What a view.”

Ben nodded.

They stood in silence for a moment, Kenji laying his cheek on the top of Ben’s head.

“You’d leave this for San Antonio?”

“I’d leave it for you and we’d visit together.”

“Kenji…” Ben turned. “I don’t want to be your reason for doing things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not Brooklynn.”

Kenji gasped softly. “I…I won’t lie, I swear!”

“And you will improve yourself for yourself too.” Ben said. “Not go along with whatever I say so we avoid conflicts. Real couples fight, Kenji.”

“I…What if we fight too much or I mess up, or we never figure it out?”

“Look at us now, Kenji.” Ben said, taking his hands. “Look how much we’ve figured out already.”

The shorter man closed his eyes.

“We don’t love each other, maybe we won’t really, or maybe…maybe we’ll be happy together forever.” Ben said. “But don’t treat me as all or nothing just yet. Don’t use me as a prop. When we go to the ball, just be my boyfriend and nothing else.”

“So…real boyfriend instead of fake boyfriend?”

Ben leaned forward and kissed his nose. “Exactly that.”

Kenji chuckled and pulled Ben close.

“Hey!”

They both looked down to see Owen and Carmen at the bottom of the lighthouse, looking up at the two.

“We’re leaving tonight!” Owen yelled. “So get packing!”

Kenji sighed and rested his forehead on Ben’s.

“Rain check?”

“Yeah.” Ben said and they waved down before going to the stairs.

Ben smiled as they were loaded into a van, Carmen sitting in the back with Bumpy as Ben and Kenji took the middle seats, holding hands and snuggled up together as Owen drove them to Seattle from the large boathouse they had docked the yacht in.

“So, how’s everything?” The bodyguard/assistant asked.

“Great.” Kenji said, leaning his head on Ben’s.

“They finally got together.” Carmen called.

“What?!” Kenji yelled. “You knew too?!”

“I’m your on-site bodyguard for a reason, kid.” Owen said with a smile.

Ben chuckled and looked up at Kenji. The taller man sighed and settled back into their cuddle, Bumpy jumping over the seats to lay in Ben’s lap as Carmen put on her headphones and started playing her switch.

“Hey.” He said softly and Ben looked up, eyes hooded with content.

“Hey.”

“Wanna go for a walk after dinner?” Kenji asked.

“Dinner with your parents?” Ben asked with a smile.

“The restaurant is in the hotel. We can go out for an hour or two with Bumpy to a café or the Space Needle or the Great Wheel…”

“I think it might be a little too late for all that. But maybe a café after I tell your parents I want to extend my stay?” Ben asked.

Kenji grinned and hugged Ben close.

“Aw.” Owen cooed and Kenji kicked the back of his seat.

Ben and Kenji were placed in a room together, Bumpy having a plush pet bed next to theirs.

Kenji was laying on his back as Ben changed from his dinner clothes into something more casual.

Dinner had been amazing, Kosei and Candy looking well rested despite the constant planning and rechecking of the ball’s supplies and preparation.

“Ben.” Candy had said over dessert. “You, Carmen and I should go shopping tomorrow morning.”

“Mom…” Kenji whined.

“Oh, right. I forgot Ben probably will want to go back…” She murmured.

“Actually.” Ben said. “Carmen was telling me about New Years and…”

He blushed, Kenji smirking and taking his hand.

“We were wondering if we could stay past New Years.” Kenji finished.

“Of course!” Kosei said with a wide smile, surprising his family and Ben from his outburst.

Candy clapped her hands.

“The we are definitely doing that shopping trip!” She said. “Sorry, Baby.”

“It’s cool.” Kenji said. “Bumpy and I will just hang out with Dad.”

Kosei nodded.

Dinner went on, and now they were going to go on their walk, Bumpy zooming around in circles in her little green vest and booties.

“Ready?” He asked Kenji.

Kenji lifted his legs and swung them down, using the momentum to stand, doing a little jump.

“Yeah.” He said and pocketed their room key.

He took Ben’s hand, who lifted Bumpy in his other hand, her leash around his wrist.

“Let’s go.” He said.

Kenji led his boyfriend to the elevator, then down to the lobby where they were greeted by a few front desk employees and the doorman.

Ben put Bumpy down, who immediately sniffed at the plant beds and started tugging Ben along.

Kenji laughed and wrapped an arm around Ben’s waist as they walked.

“It’s so bright!” Ben said with a smile, looking at the lights and neon.

“Is it what you thought it would be?” Kenji asked. “Or better?”

Ben smiled at Kenji. “Way better.”

They sat on a bench, an awning keeping snow off it as Bumpy sniffed around and they stared at the lights. Kenji took Ben’s hand.

“Ben, would your Mom…Would she have liked me?”

Ben blinked and thought. “I think she would have.”

“What was she like?”

“Never mad. Like I never saw her mad. I saw her frustrated and stressed but she never snapped at me.” He said. “She had long dirty blond hair and it wasn’t soft, but it always smelled good. When she cut it, I kind of missed watching her brush it. But she said her arms felt heavy all the time and I would do it for her. I remember she would hum or sing every time she cooked. She made a baked potato soup that would warm you from the inside out. Dave can make it close but…There was something about hers.”

Ben sniffed and smiled.

“Everything she touched seemed so much better. It was like she only knew how to be nice and positive. Like your mom actually. I bet they would have been best friends. I bet maybe your mom’s food would have made her stronger. Carmen would be another baby and she would love Bumpy and…who am I kidding, Kenji, she would love you just for being my friend, let alone boyfriend.”

Kenji hugged Ben close.

“She sounds amazing.” He said and Ben sniffed.

“I miss her so much. I never…I never really…”

“My Mom and Carmen celebrate this holiday in October. Um, it’s a couple days to remember those who moved on. We have an altar at our main house. Could I uh…even if we don’t stay together…could I add her picture? So we remember her?”

“You’d do that?” Ben asked. “To remember a woman you never met?”

“No. I think I’ve met her.” Kenji said and cupped Ben’s cheek. “She sounds a bit like you.”

Ben chucked wetly and smiled, kissing Kenji softly. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being you. I like you, Kenji Kon.” Ben said, getting up and holding out his hand.

Kenji smiled and took it.

“I like you too, Ben Pincus.”

He checked Bumpy and they started off again, hand in hand.

“So this café a favorite of yours?” Ben asked when he saw the shop at the edge of a plaza full of people talking and drinking coffee as a band played jazz in a covered outdoor stage in the middle.

“You know I—”

“Kenji?” A voice called and Ben felt his boyfriend freeze beside him as he looked towards their left.

A slender woman with pink hair and green eyes stood there with an older couple.

“Go on, I’ll just be a minute.” She told them and both men nodded and walked ahead towards the hotel, hand in hand.

Kenji gulped as one openly glared at him as they passed.

“Hi.” He said to her, Ben realizing who the girl was.

“Hi, Kenji.” She said, raising her chin. “Been a while.”

“How have you been, Brooklynn?”

#jwcc sweater weather #ben pincus #kenji kon #jwcc benji #wildcity #kenji x ben #jurassic world camp cretaceous #camp cretaceous #jwcc fanfic

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sydsrichie · 3 years

Text

Dean turned forty-two on a Sunday, and all he really wanted was for Cas to kiss him.

[Ao3] ~3k

The thought was ringing in his head, clear as a bell, as he sat up in bed sometime after six in the morning.

The angel was a warm, solid lump on the other side of his - their - bed, his face pressed firmly into the pillow to ward away the first signs of daytime. Dean smiled to himself, at the way Cas’s brow furrowed in sleep, desperately clinging on to oblivion. When he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Cas’s temple, the crease in his brow smoothed out like ripples on a lake.

Dean left Cas sleeping - he would only be another half hour or so - and trailed off to the kitchen in his slippers and dressing gown, warding against the late January chill in the air. The sounds of hushed voices and clink of cutlery and mugs guided him through the dim morning light and the fogginess he felt before his first coffee. Like he’d expected, Jack and Sam were already at the kitchen table, Jack with a bowl piled high with the kind of cereal that made him jittery, and Sam with a cup of black coffee and a serene expression. Dean mumbled a good morning, smiling but politely ignoring the cards and presents stacked in a small, neat pile in the middle of the table until they were explicitly given to him, and made a beeline for the coffee pot.

He could tell it was his birthday just by the fact that Sam had likely been up since five but had still kept the coffee piping hot, ready for Dean.

“Morning!” came his brother’s chirpy morning voice. “Happy birthday, Dean.”

Dean turned around from the coffee pot to say a thanks, and only managed an oof as his little - hah - brother enveloped him in a hug. For someone of Sam’s size, it bewildered Dean that he could sneak up on anyone. Or maybe Dean was just getting unobservant in his old age. “Thanks, Sam,” he said, giving him a pat on the back. Even now, after nearly four decades, the smell of his brother’s clothes still reminded him of a long-gone family home in Lawrence, but that thought didn’t raise any more sadness in him now than a faint and settled pang. He called it progress and clung a little harder to his brother’s flannel.

When they broke apart, Jack was practically bouncing on his seat. “You gotta open my present first,” he insisted, his mouth half full of chewed cereal and little marshmallows that glowed like nuclear waste.

Sam smiled, stepping back from Dean, “Jack, remember, you gotta-“

“Oh!” Jack said, lurching out of his seat less like a God and more like a hyperactive three-year-old. He was both, Dean guessed, but definitely favoured one. Jack was about half Sam’s body mass, but he hit Dean at such a speed that he still forced a grunt out of his chest. “Happy birthday!”

The feeling that flooded Dean’s ribcage was like a torrent of molasses, warm and heavy. He wrapped his arms around Jack’s back, even let himself rest his chin against Jack’s head. “Thanks, kiddo.”

Sam wrinkled his nose over Jack’s head in a way that read as a faint apology for letting Jack get at the toddler rocket fuel before dawn, but Dean didn’t much care. Jack had kinda been like this for a few days anyway, and the glitter that had been appearing everywhere in the bunker and was now covering an envelope on the table was enough of a hint as to why.

Jack was still bouncing on his toes, and Dean laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Before I open presents, we gotta wait for-“

“I’m awake,” came a gruff voice behind them, in a tone that could only be described as regretful. It did nothing to slow the lurch that Dean’s heart gave, and when he spun around, he saw a smile mirroring his own spreading on Cas’s lips. “Happy birthday,” Cas said.

He had a card and wrapped present in hand, but he still stood awkwardly, a country mile away from their little three-person cluster by the coffee pot. And it made Dean’s heart pang. Part of it was just Cas - an eternity of angel mannerisms couldn’t be scrubbed out by a mere decade on Earth - but part of it was....

This was dumb. They were dumb. He crossed the space between them and wrapped his boyfriend, his angel, his life partner up in his arms and pressed a sloppy kiss to the peak of his cheekbone. “Thanks, baby,” he said, as solid arms wound around his lower back.

It was Sam who masterminded breakfast, dicing up little bowls of strawberries and blueberries between flipping pancakes on the stove top. Cas manned the coffee pot for Sam and Dean, steeped himself a mug of tea, and fetched Jack a glass of orange juice with a straw in it, because he worried about the acidity wearing down Jack’s tooth enamel. That left Dean at the kitchen table, supervised by Jack, as he worked through his little pile of cards and presents.

From Sam and Eileen, there was a beautiful photo album, bound in smooth black leather. It was half-filled already, with rare pictures of Sam and Dean as children, Jack on his first birthday, Dean and Eileen posing for a picture, leaning against the trunk of the Impala with beer bottles in hand after a successful hunt, amongst others. And one that looked too candid for him to have known it was happening, his hand slipped into Cas’s, and Cas smiling at him with that stupid look that never failed to make Dean’s heart thud like a mistimed bass drum. The rest of the pages were left empty, an open invitation from Sam and Eileen to keep filling it with new memories. “This is beautiful, Sammy,” he croaked, and did his best to meet his brother’s eye.

Sam smiled, didn’t call him out on his emotional constipation, and said “Eileen will be over later, I think she’s got another treat for you.”

Dean was thrilled to hear it, but didn’t have the chance to respond, because now Jack was pressing a ridiculously glittery envelope into his hands. He knew he’d be washing the stuff out of Jack’s clothes for a month, but the gleeful look in the kid’s eye was enough to make Dean bite down his complaint, and he tried very hard not to grin like an idiot as he opened the envelope.

The card was indeed full of glitter and hand cut heart-shaped confetti, but it was the shaky writing on the front that made his breath catch. With each letter spelled out in a different coloured marker, Jack had written “Happy birthday Dad” on the front, and then there was the present Cas had brought. The joint, accompanying gift from Cas and Jack was enough to set his bottom lip wobbling – a blue coffee mug with #1 Dad on the front in big, yellow letters.

“C’mere,” Dean grunted, and pulled Jack tight against his chest, furiously blinking away the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. There was thick emotion in his chest churning and gargling like a carburettor clogged with gravel, and he mumbled, “Love you,” into the boy’s as-yet unbrushed hair. Jack let out a happy sigh and leaned into him heavier.

Cas and Sam were both looking a little glossy eyed by the time the pair pulled apart, which Sam artfully covered with a loud clearing of his throat and the lighting of the candle on top of Dean’s pancake stack.

The most tone-deaf chorus he’d ever heard of “Happy birthday” followed, which was a given, as he was the only one who could actually carry a tune, but he refused to sink to the level of douchiness of joining in on his own birthday song. Then, they were digging into their pancakes, talking about their plans for the day, and just soaking in the early morning serenity.

Before long, Cas and Jack were hugging the brothers goodbye and promising to be back by five to help ready Dean’s birthday supper. He would’ve liked to have them for the whole day, but there would be plenty time for that once heaven was - well, heaven again – and truthfully, he was just grateful he got the morning with them.

Once Jack and Sam were ready to go about their respective days, they stepped away from Cas and Dean, leaving them just kind of looking at each other. Dean was normally like a shot fired from a pistol to cross the distance between them, take Cas into his arms, kiss him silly, but he couldn’t nudge that first thought that had ricocheted around his head when he’d woken up this morning.

Cas was looking at him. Standing at a distance. Hands hanging at his sides. “Have a good day, Dean,” he said, in a soft voice that made Dean’s chest ache.

Two months. Two whole months since they’d bust out of the Empty, saved the world together and held each other, aching, and crying and kissing fervently in the aftershocks.

Twelve years spent falling in love, two months spent being in love, and Cas was still just standing there. Like a dick.

With a barely concealed huff, Dean crossed the chasm between them and kissed him, gently cradling a strong and stubbled jaw in both his hands. “You too, baby.”

When Cas and Jack were gone, he belatedly realised he’d forgotten to open Cas’s card after feeling like he’d been sideswiped by a freight train after Jack’s.

It was a simple, handsome card. Navy with gold lettering.

To Dean,

Happy birthday.

I love you.

from Cas

He held it to his chest.

—

Turns out Eileen’s idea of a birthday treat was the hunter’s equivalent of a game of whack-a-mole. When she’d driven him and Sam out to a horse ranch an hour down the highway and explained, Dean had started laughing and pulled his (hopefully, future, one-day) sister-in-law into a bear hug.

The ranch was infested with little goblin-like creatures that Eileen had affectionately termed “gnomes”. It was by no means the kind of world-ending threat they were used to, but the “gnomes” had been popping up out of the ground and spooking horses, even landing a few bites, which had led to more than one infected wound and thrown rider. “I thought it warranted the Winchester-Leahy treatment,” Eileen said and signed to Dean, who was bouncing on his toes like a kid in a candy store.

When Eileen turned back to her car, Dean said behind her, “Hey, your names sound pretty good together, huh, Sammy?”

Sam’s only response was to glower.

That only served to put Dean in a better mood, though, and soon they were all wreaking havoc on the overgrown field, trying whatever their best instincts and experience said oughta work.

The little gremlins were fast, ducking and diving into burrows quicker than Dean could get a good swing at them, and popping up behind him to grab at his ankles. “Little bastards!” He growled as one sunk its teeth into his ankle.

The gnome blew a raspberry at him and uncannily parroted back “Bastard!” It was then that he finally connected a hit but was quick to find out that an iron crowbar was about as much use on the little shits as, well, a crowbar.

“Hey!” He yelled to his compatriots, waving an arm over his head. Sam and Eileen both stopped to look, wearing twin expressions of wild bemusement, and really, he wished he had a camera on him. “Iron sucks!” He said, signing it large and waving his useless crowbar.

Eileen nodded, but Sam seemed to have an idea as he watched one of the slimy little creatures wiggle its ass at him tauntingly. A familiar spark lit up behind his eyes and he pulled a smallish burlap sack of rock salt out of his coat pocket.

No faster than Sam could throw a handful of salt like cast dye, the gnome exploded with a yelp, splattering Sam with green-yellow goo. “Gross!” he yelped.

Dean felt childish laughter bubble up out of his chest at that, disbelieving, as Sam shook his hands free of gunk and wiped it off his face. “Oh my god, they’re like slugs!” Dean said with a sharp cackle.

“This is fucking gross,” was the only response from a churlish Sam, as both Dean and Eileen laughed at him.

“Dean!” Eileen called, and then there was a small bag of rock salt arcing through the air towards him, which he caught neatly.

Then they were off to the races, with Dean and Eileen automatically falling into a pattern of systematically herding the little bastards and then working with Sam to do the exploding. The yellow-green goo stunk to high heavens, and made Dean’s eyes water, but they were having so much fun he barely even noticed, too busy hooting, hollering, and laughing as Sam got prissy about his new jacket getting stained with the monster equivalent of snot.

When they were down to the last few, they had to chase them down manually, amongst the litany of profanities the creatures were picking up from them and hurling back. Dean had his last gnome cornered between himself and a fence post when he heard a warning shout from Sam.

A second too late.

The rock to the back of his knee was such a shock that it buckled his leg, and he thumped into the soft dirt. There was a particularly large and menacing gnome glowering at him from its burrow, reaching for another stone, and Dean was scrabbling for his rock salt before he ended up with a concussion on his birthday-

But then the air crackled with static, and there was a whooshing wing beat, as the gnome was - smited? Smote? - from existence, splattering Dean in the foul-smelling goo from top to toe.

He looked up at the angel - his angel - clad in his signature trench-coat and frown. And he fell back into the dirt in fits of laughter.

“Dean,” Cas said in lieu of greeting, looking vaguely troubled at the monster snot covering his dress shoes and trousers.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said with a wheeze, and reached out a hand to signal Cas to help him. He felt himself being yanked to his feet like he weighed nothing and was still quieting the waves of laughter racking his stomach when he saw the way Cas was looking at him.

The soft glow in his features, the amusement, the adoration. “What exactly are you idiots doing?”

Dean flashed him his most charming smile – the devil-may-care one – and said, in a very low and serious voice, “Saving the world.”

Cas held onto his fingers, reticent to let go, and he just stood there, and looked at Dean with the softest smile on his face.

“I thought you said you’d be back at five?” Dean finally asked, breaking the beat of charged silence.

“I, uh,” Cas looked away with pink rising at his cheeks, instead watching as Eileen and Sam picked their way back across the field to each other, still wild-eyed and laughing. “I forgot to show Jack how to set the clock you gave us in our office, so I believe it shows the wrong time.”

The image of a God and a seraph running the reconstruction of heaven from a cosy little office but being unable to set a ten-dollar clock from Target to Central Standard Time was enough to set Dean off chuckling again. Don’t ever change, he thought faintly, as he watched his own amusement reflected back in Cas’s extraordinary eyes.

Cas was still holding his hand. And his eyes were so soft, and so blue.

It caught Dean’s breath in his throat, and something bubbled up.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said. His stomach gave a jolt, but he had to ask before he lost his nerve. He squeezed Cas’s hand, to give himself courage more than anything. “How come you never kiss me?”

Cas looked dumbfounded for a second, his eyes darting to Dean’s lips, and by God if this wasn’t the wrong time and the wrong place, Dean thought, as a rock settled in the pit of his stomach. The dim winter sun above them was still warm enough to make the monster snot on both of them stink that little more, and Cas’s jaw was slack and flapping a little as he searched for the right words.

Dean suddenly felt stupid and awful for bringing it up.

Except- he didn’t, not really.

Because every kiss, every touch, every everything, had to come from Dean. And he wasn’t sick of it – he could never be sick of anything that let him touch Cas, be with Cas – but he would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt sometimes.

Like on the morning of his forty-second birthday, and the man who had admitted to being crazy, stupid, “loved the whole world for you” in love with him two months ago had stood six feet away and just looked.

Like he was just looking now.

“I- it doesn’t matter,” Dean said, his eyes falling, his heart falling. “Sorry, I don’t want to ruin the day.”

The sound that came out of Cas came from his chest, and could only be described as a grunt, pure frustration.

And then suddenly, there was a hand on his face and a thumb on his upper lip, swiping away disgusting, sickly, stinking goo from the curve of his cupid’s bow.

And then there were lips.

Hot and chapped.

Crushing against his.

Some ridiculous keening sound was forced from Dean’s chest, and he threw his spare arm around Cas’s neck with abandon, his other still clasping Cas’s fingers firmly in his. Cas’s weather-worn lips against his soft ones felt a little sore, and he was going to buy him a chapstick, and their respective tea- and coffee-breath was mingling together in a noxious mix, but it was perfect. Perfect in the way that Cas was pulling him against his broad chest, reeling him in and holding him tight and saying I will never let you go.

And Dean would never let Cas let him go, he thought, and nipped at his bottom lip.

“When I told you,” Cas was saying as he pulled back, into the bare couple of inches between their lips, “that my happiness was just in being, in the act of loving you, I never dreamed I could have you.

“Most days, I still don’t believe that I get to have you.”

Thump went Dean’s heart, and it was his turn to reel Cas in and press crushing kisses to Cas’s lips, blood roaring in his ears and battering against his ribcage. “I’ll teach you,” he mumbled into Cas’s hairline, temple, nose, jaw, anywhere he could land a blistering kiss. I’ll teach you to believe it.

They both sucked in ragged breaths in the cool, crisp air of late January.

A light frost bit at the ground, and curling clouds of white emanated from their lips.

“I’ll teach you. I’m yours.”

#deancas fanfic #deancas #dean winchester #happy birthday dean #destiel #spn #supernatural #castiel #my fics

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thebestofoneshots · 4 years

Text

SUNDAY BAKING MADNESS

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Prompt: You and Dean are determined to finish a homemade meal and a cake for Jack’s birthday. So, naturally, the kitchen turns upside down.

Warnings: None, maybe a spoilers for 15x14? But nothing serious.

A/N: this is just a bunch of fluffy fluff because my boy Dean deserves some happy times.

You sat on the library table flipping through some monster lore pages, trying to find interesting information on possibly unknown monsters when Dean walked in, looking around suspiciously.

“Have you seen Jack?” He asked you and Sam, who had been silently reading on the chair opposite yours.

You denied with your head.

“He must still be in his room,” replied Sam “he’s been in his room ever since Mrs. Butters left.”

Dean nodded “I need you to keep him out of the kitchen at all costs!” He explained.

Sammy frowned “Why?”

“I’m making burgers, and a cake for his birthday,” He nodded and a little smile appeared on his mouth.

“Oh I can help you with the burger buns,” you volunteered.

“Did you just offered yourself to buy burger buns?”

“Not buy, make them!” You answered matter of factly.

“Wait second... you know how to make burger buns?”

“Well they’re just bread,” you shrugged.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Well it’s basically just yeast, flour and water...” you elaborated.

“Huh,” he nodded “well that sounds awesome, fresh buns and homemade patties... it’ll be a feast!”

You nodded and stood up to follow Dean to the kitchen.

He turned around right before reaching the door “Sammy, you better make sure he doesn’t go in the kitchen,”

Sammy nodded and then went back to his book.

As the two of you reached the kitchen, Dean took out some ground meat from the fridge, and an apron from the cupboard, that he then placed over his shoulders, it was a stupid black one that said “kiss the cook” in bold cursive, he loved wearing it.

You rolled your eyes but started looking for all the ingredients on your list. You needed yeast, flour, milk, butter and 2 eggs. Your buns had to rise before going in the oven so you had to start with those.

As the two of you worked in synchrony around the kitchen, just like you would on a hunt, he finished his meat blend and you finished the bread, but it still needed more kneading, if only the men of letters had a stand mixer, you wouldn’t have to do it by hand.

“Do you want some help?” He asked from behind, as he noticed you struggling with the dough.

“Be my guest,” you replied stepping aside. He started moving the dough around like playing with playdough, bland then he tried to spin it around like a pizza, you giggled from behind.

“What?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you replied “is just that you’re making burger buns, not pizza.”

He just turned around and raised his eyebrows at you.

“Here,” you approached him “you need to push, and then bring it back, push and then bring it back towards you,” you explained as you kneaded the dough on the counter.

He nodded and tried it himself. He wasn’t half bad “if you weren’t a Hunter, you’d make a decent cook.”

“Hey! I’d make an amazing cook!”

“Sure thing,” you answers and then, now that the dough looked even grabbed it deposited on a bowl, draped a wet towel above it and left on the furthest places on the counter possible.

Dean's patties were already on the fridge and your dough was going through the first rise time. “should we start with the cake?”

He nodded, “I found this recipe,” he pointed at a chocolate sponge cake one on an old men of letters’ book. You gave it a quick overview and it seemed nice, you weren’t anything close to a professional baker but you had made your fair share of cakes in the past.

“I think is a good one, you can measure the dry ingredients while I do the wet ones,” you said casually as you walked to the fridge to get some milk.

“Why are they wet?” He asked with a little sly smirk on his face. Of course he would, you weren’t even surprised. This was Dean Winchester after all.

“Well, you know Dean, wet ingredients are generally liquids, like milk, eggs, butter, that kind of stuff, so yeah, that kind of makes them wet... it does not mean they are aroused in any shape or form,” you added at the end just to mess with him. He drew a short breath like he was about to speak but you quickly interrupted “Now focus on the flour and cocoa powder please.”

He nodded and started measuring the ingredients. “The books say you have to sift them,” you told him as you departed the egg whites from the yolks.

He nodded and started sifting. As you busied yourself measuring the milk and melting some butter, you heard Dean from behind.

“Hey (Y/N)! Look what I found!” He said showing you an electric hand mixer. It was already connected, and he had already turned it on, it was just seconds from inches away from touching the mix. The mix with only dry ingredients.

Your eyes opened wide and you definitely screamed “Nooo!” as you walked towards Dean to try and stop him. But it was too late, as soon as the beaters touched the flour mixture a cloud of light brown powder filled the kitchen. Dusting not only Dean but also you and the entire kitchen around the two of you.

It didn’t take too long for him to realize his mistake and turn off the mixer. You drew in a deep breath and stared at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, now setting the mixer on the counter, still holding the bowl in his hands.

“You just dusted me completely...” you stated.

“Well not completely,” he argued.

“Dean Winchester, don’t you dare argue with me.”

“I should measure the ingredients again,” he nodded towards the Noe half-empty bowl. “Is all of this really going to waste?” He questioned, looking at the red bowl on his hands.

“Oh no, it won’t,” you said carefully grabbing it from his hands “In fact, it will be of great use,” you smiled at him and proceeded to dump the leftovers of the bowl towards him.

“What the f...” he started but you brushed out laughing, he couldn’t even finish.

“Ok fine, if that’s what we’re playing at,” he said then, dusting off all the powder towards you. The two of you were laughing at this point, and you grabbed some barbecue sauce he’d prepared earlier with a wooden spoon and softly spread it on his cheek.

“There, that’s the icing!” You smirked. He just narrowed his eyes at you but decided to be the bigger person and did not, ouch an egg on top of your head. Once your laughter died out, you almost felt bad for him. He genuinely wanted to make this dinner for Jack and an accident had gotten him filled with spices and ingredients. “All right, all right, we should probably focus,” you managed to say.

He just raised his eyebrows at you. “Sorry,” you mumbled as you started dusting off some of the powder on his shoulders and his chest. Then with a towel that sat on the counter, you started cleaning his sauce filled face. You had one hand on his left cheek and the other cleaning his right. After cleaning out most of it you nodded to yourself. “There you go, like new.”

He missed your hands cupping his cheeks as soon as you removed them. No one had cleaned his cheeks that way since he was 4, ever so gentle... so loving...

You stared at his big green eyes for a little too long before snapping out of the trance “we should go back to baking, or the cake won’t be finished, nor will the bread,” you said as you walked towards the dough and as you punched it and worked your way with it to start making the little balls.

“Is this ready?” He asked showing you the batter he was mixing.

“When there are no lumps, probably like a minute more. When it’s done you can put it on the moulds,” you commanded, “Also, don’t forget to grease the pans.”

He nodded and continued with his work until he was done. “Ready! Should I put them in the oven?”

“Yes! And then you can come over, help me make the little balls.”

He placed the cakes on the oven and walked towards you, “aren’t they too small for burger buns?” He questioned.

You shook your head “We’ll let them rise another hour before placing them in the oven.”

“Awesome,” he said and then paid attention to what you were doing “so you just roll them around?”

“Not quite, first, you have to pull the dough towards the bottom, to make the top smooth, then you can start rolling,” he nodded and tried following, but his little dough balls were a little weird. “Here, let me help,” you said as you placed your hand on top of his to coach him on the circular movement he was supposed to do. Not that either of you would admit it, but you loved every second of that hand over hand contact. “There you go!” You said as you removed your hand from his “you’re a natural.”

He smiled and continued. In just a few minutes you were done with the little balls and placed them on top of the oven, so they would rise nicely on the warm area. You then turned around and saw the mess the kitchen had turned into. You sighed “We’re gonna have to clean this out...”

He drew a deep breath “Yeah we do.”

As the two of you started cleaning the counter, Dean tripped, on attempts to keep himself off the floor he grabbed the side of the counter with one hand, but the sauce bowl was there and he only succeeded in flipping it and consequently it falling over his face, you, trying to help tried to grab his free hand, but his weight pulled you in and the two of you ended ok the floor. You on top of him and the sauce bowl on top of his head.

“Awww,” you heard him complain from underneath, you removed the bowl from his head and couldn’t help but let a small google out.

“That sauce most really like your face,” you pointed out and with your index finger grabbed a bit from the sauce and plopped on your mouth to taste it “and I’m sorry to inform you, you’re going make more since it’s incredibly tasty.”

He let out a small chuckle after that. He was in a good mood, after all, he loved having you on top of him. Not that he would ever admit it “Do you want some more?” He asked, grabbing some on his finger and plopping it on his mouth.

You thought it over “I don’t know... I’d be kind of weird to lick your face...” you joked.

But he wasn’t going to let the joke slip away that easily “you wouldn’t!” He played offended.

And that was all you needed, Dean turns things into a dare and you almost lose complete control over your own actions. Leaning closer to his face and lowering your head towards his ear, you whispered “Ah... wouldn’t I?”

And you gave a fast long kick to the far side of his cheek, laughing uncontrollably at his reaction as you rolled off of him. Your hair was now too filled with sticky sauce.

“Did you really just?” He asked in between laughter, you were both just like children when you were around each other. This just prooved it.

The two of you finally stood off the ground and continued with the cleaning. You tied your hair after trying to get some of the sauce with water and he did the same. You were determined to finish this dinner.

“Go bathe!” He said, “I’ll take the cakes out when they’re done, and put the buns in, that way you can check on them while I shower and after we can finish the burgers.”

“10 minutes more,” you said pointing at the oven “make sure to use a toothpick to make sure they’re ready!”

“You know, I’ve made cake before,” he replied.

“Have you, really?” You questioned.

He thought about it for a moment. He must have, he thought to himself. He knew he had at some point he just couldn’t quite pinpoint when. So he just repeated his earlier words “Go clean up, I’ll take care of it,” and so he did.

He checked the cakes were ready and took them out, set the timer for the buns, who had now grown into beautifully big dough balls for perfect burgers and, and placed them in the oven. But when he tried to take the bread out of the mould it wouldn’t come out.

“Hey (Y/N)!” He said loudly, so you would hear him from wherever he was, you walked in with a towel over your shoulders since your hair was still wet. “The bread won’t come out.”

You frowned “Did you grease the pans?”

“Yeah, they’re over there,” he pointed at a pile of oily frypans that sat per the kitchen table “but I don’t understand what that has to do with this...”

You sighed “Dean. You’re telling me you greased the frypans over the kitchen table...”

“Yeah, so the meat wouldn’t stick while cooking,” he replied, still fumbling with the bread on the mould.

“And didn’t it occur to you, that the moulds should’ve been greased too? So that the bread wouldn’t stick?”

Realization downed of him, that by “greasing the pans” You meant the moulds for the cake, rather than the frypans for the meat. “oh...”

“Yeah...”

“Can we fix it?” He questioned.

“We could try taking them out, some of it definitely won’t come off, no matter how much we try, especially the bottom part, but some can be salvaged,” You explained. And so the two of you went around the cakes with a knife to try and unstick the sides before Turing around the bread, luckily, two cakes came out, since the moulds were good quality and the bread had its fair share of butter on it. So other than the tops, the bread had come out almost entirely. Still good for a cake.

“All right, your turn,” you said motioning to the door, “there’re so many ingredients on top of you, you might as well be a cake.”

He chuckled at your words and walked towards the bathroom. Leaving you to tend the buns. Dean came about 15 minutes later, all fresh and clean and the two of you took the buns out of the oven together. But since he was cold from the shower you told him to focus on decorating the cake while you finished the meat. He tried to argue by telling you that he was the grill master and not you, but you shot him down by telling him he would be the master of nothing if he got arthritis from switching between cold and hot all the time.

So he finished decorating the cake, a masterpiece he called it. You tried not to laugh at the sweet intents of the big broad man to make a nice cake for Jack. You chuckled when you took a look at his face. It was again filled with stuff. This time the frosting you had prepared for the cake.

“All right grill master,” you said, walking closer to him and using the same towel as earlier to clean his face again. After removing most of if with the damp towel you smiled. He was so pretty, with his big green eyes just waiting for you to finish. “You really need to stop getting your face filled with food.”

“Well it’s not so bad if you lick it off like earlier,” he mumbled, barely audible, but you paid way too much attention to his words anyway, so you heard it. But you didn’t comprehend what he meant by it, or maybe you were too set on the idea that he would never think of you that way that you were now oblivious to the very evidence against it. So you ignored it and moved on.

The two of you finished preparing the burgers, the cake was in the fridge and you started bringing the burgers to the library, were Sam, Jack and now even Cass sat.

The dinner was fun, everyone loved your food and Jack even argued that Dean and You should open a restaurant together. He couldn’t believe his eyes when Dean brought over his cake. With a cap covering the cake to make more impact on the surprise.

“Ta daaa” he said as he revealed the cake, “Well it’s not like Mrs. Butters but—“

“— it’s great,” Jack said with a smile.

You were sitting in the table next to Sam, and couldn’t help but smile, you knew Dean was still hurt, from everything that had happened, but he was getting better, and he was starting to forgive, even if it was the hardest thing.

“Come here!” You said motioning Dean to sit next to you.

“It’s actually Nut and almond on the inside,” you said as you helped cut the cake.

“Like Nougat?” Asked Jack, with a bright smile.

“Exactly like Nougat,” replied Dean with a tiny little smirk, like he was so proud of himself.

You sighed deeply, staring at Dean for a little too long before going back to cutting the cake.

As Dean tried his first bite his face turned into one of surprise “Wow, we did great!” He said pointing at the cake “this is delicious!”

You took a bite of your slice and nodded in agreement.

“We should bake together more often,” he said casually as he took another bite.

You laughed since the frosting had gotten all over his face again. You had to resist the urge of cleaning it off. Not in front of everyone at least. “I doubt the kitchen would survive if we did...”

“Wait why?” Asked Sam with a frown.

“Oh nothing, right (Y/N)?” Said Dean giving you a look.

“Right... nothing,” you replied smirking complicitly.

What happens in the kitchen, stays in the kitchen.

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Thursday (Part 2)

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, puking, concussions, mentions of injuries/bullying, homophobia

Word count: 5,138

After school, you were sitting on the couch as you furiously typed on your keyboard at an extremely fast pace. You were on a roll with these essays, they were probably going to be finished by the time you had to go back to the school to get on the bus with the team. You figured that you could even finish Annie’s essay and get started on Sammy’s US history presentation on the sociopolitical climate of the United States in the mid twentieth century to today. However, instead of covering a variety of topics like the rubric requested you to do, you were only going to talk about the significant events that happened to the LGBT+ community starting with Stonewall and going to Obergefell v. Hodges. You were also going to go in depth about how even if there are more opportunities available and more laws set in place to protect for LGBT+ people in the present then there were in past, members of the LGBT+ community still suffer heavy discrimination in the workplace and in the public. With receipts of course, the assignment required a minimum of three pictures per slide, and the group chat was a perfect source.

After that was done, you would email Sammy’s teacher (you had her last year for US history and you knew that she had a son in the grade below you currently transitioning from female to male) that you were the one that did her project and send screenshots of Sammy calling you slurs. Luckily for you, you had receipts of her being transphobic in the past that you could also send. Everything was effortlessly falling into place for you today.

As you were typing, the front door swung open and two overly excited fifth graders ran into the house and up the stairs. A tired Schlatt followed them. “I will never know how the hell Phil keeps up with them.”

“I dunno, maybe because he’s already raised three kids before.”

You watched as your uncle jumped and whipped his head over towards you, his hand clutching his chest. He lightly glared at you, “christ kid don’t do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You smirked at him before turning back to your laptop to continue typing the essay. You were almost done with the conclusion paragraph on Annie’s essay and you wanted to get to Sammy’s presentation as fast as possible. As you were typing, you felt a warm air fan across your neck and your uncle’s voice right next to your ear, “whatcha typin?”

You lept off the couch and almost fell into the coffee table before steadying yourself and deadpanning at Schlatt. “I was typing an essay before you interrupted me.”

He snorted, “it looked like you were on a roll, just thought I’d see what my beloved niece was writing. Can I read it?”

Your eyes lit up as an excited grin split your cheeks, “yeah, but lemme catch you up real quick. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie got mad at me a few days ago and wanted me to do some homework for them as a sort of payment. But after they pulled that little stunt in the lunchroom yesterday, they decided to be little bitches to me and call me slurs. So naturally, I decided to change the essay prompt into an in depth analysis about discrimination LGBT people face from their peers on the daily. My english teacher’s really against homophobia and the project’s worth twenty five percent of our overall grade, so it’s perfect.”

While you were rambling on and on about your detailed plot for revenge, Schlatt couldn’t help but be proud of the person you’d become. A major part of him was impressed that you came up with a detailed plan so quickly, that meant that his cunning nature was rubbing off on you and that made him ecstatic. Sure you mentioning not being straight was new to him, but he was prepared to accept you for whatever you identified as. He didn’t care how people identified, he just cared if they were good people. And his niece was one of the best kids he knew. He’d let your slip up slide for now until you felt comfortable enough to properly come out to him.

“That an amazing plan, fuckin brilliant. Though, you could do more.”

That piqued your interest, “I’m listening.”

“Do you have any blackmail?”

Your eyes glinted with sudden understanding, “why yes I do, uncle dearest. I just so happen to have thousands of texts from them talking shit about each other and basically the entire school. And them being incredibly racist. They would be destroyed if that came out.”

“Two things. One, never call me that again. Two, perfect. Keep it as leverage if they try to do something. You don’t pull out all the good cards in the first round, you wait for the right moment to strike so you can win. You need to constantly defend yourself against other players and anticipate their every move. If you leak everything right now, you won’t have anything to use against them if they have something up their sleeve you didn’t know about. Patience is key in things like this.”

You absorbed every single word that came out of his mouth like it was the holy gospel. Although he was your uncle and you loved him with all your heart, but he was a sly bastard when he wanted to be. He knew his way around fighting and manipulating people just right, so you were incredibly happy that you were on his good side and he absolutely adored you. Though questionable and morally gray, he was giving you advice because he cared about you and you’d be an idiot to not heed his advice.

“That’s genius, Uncle Schlatt. What would I do without you?”

“You’d get along just fine without me, you would’ve gotten there eventually. You’re smart. I’m just givin you a little push in the right direction.”

“I honestly would’ve never thought about waiting, I was so dead set on getting revenge that I would’ve just leaked everything all at once. I want them to feel how I felt when they were around me. I-” you paused. Would this make you the same as them? You’d be screwing up all their grades, Adrian’s job, and Sammy’s athletic career. You came to the chilling realization that you’d be the same as them. You’d be as manipulative as they were. “...Uncle Schlatt, would that make me the same as them?”

“Fuck no! You’re always gonna be better than them no matter what. When they’re at their best, you’re always gonna be a whole lot better than them. They deserve what’s happening to them, it sounds like they put you through so much shit the past few years. I actually think you could do a whole lot worse to them if you’re willing to put more work in, but it’s your plan and if you think that what you’re doing is too much,” he darkly chuckled, “you wouldn’t like my idea.”

“You’re right, they deserve everything I have planned for them. God, I don’t know what I was thinking, ‘would that make me the same as them,’” you mocked what you said earlier, “what a load of shit. Anyways, thanks Uncle Schlatt. I’m gonna get back to writing this. They’re due tomorrow and I wanna finish as much as I can before I have to go.”

“Alright, whaddya want for dinner? Phil’s gonna be like thirty minutes late from work so I’m cookin tonight.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no. That man can barley cook boxed mac n cheese, let alone anything else. He’d burn down the house if you left him alone in the kitchen with the stove. “On second thought, why don’t I help you with dinner? We can make some chicken alfredo.”

“Awe, you’d rather hang out with me than finish your homework? Ya really do love me. C’mon let’s start.”

The process of making dinner was… interesting. Multiple times, Schlatt almost spilled boiling water on himself and he even managed to burn the pasta while it was in the water. How he even managed to do that you’d never find out, you had your back turned cutting up vegetables and herbs at the time. That was when you subtly started to take over in the kitchen, giving him smaller tasks while you handled everything else. You felt bad for Tubbo, his father can’t cook for shit.

By time you finished, about an hour passed and Philza had come home and changed out of his work clothes. The two adults sat at the table discussing something that you didn’t pay attention to while your brothers and cousin were in the living room waiting for you to finish dinner. Finally, you set the table and it was time to eat.

Because you couldn’t have many fatty foods before any matches or practices, you had made a separate plate for yourself that only had plain pasta, chicken, and broccoli. You were surprised with how well it turned out, you were following an iffy recipe you found on the first link Google brought up.

After dinner, you went upstairs to put your uniform on and pack a little bag full of things you might need: a small blanket, some snacks, a water bottle, and a portable charger. Oh, and fuzzy socks and a pair of crocs. You could never go wrong with fuzzy socks and crocs. Feeling a vibration in your pocket, you pulled out your phone.

Hales : )

(Y/n), I’m omw to your house

Gonna give you a ride to the school

(Y/n)

Hales you don’t have to give me a ride, I can drive

Hales : )

Don’t care

Omw, be there in like 7 mins

You swiped out of yours and her conversation and opened up the family group chat

(Y/n)

I don’t need a ride to the school, Haley’s giving me one

She’s gonna give me a ride home too

Dadza

Alright, thank her for me

Tell her I said good luck too!

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

Dadza

(Y/n), do everything he wouldn’t do

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck you I’m a good influence

Dadza

You’re really not

Wilby

^^^^

Technology Sword

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck all of you

You heard Haley’s car pull into the driveway and dashed out of your room with your bag. Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, a hand stopped you.

“Coat.”

You grumbled as you reached past Philza to grab your coat. After you slipped it on, you were pulled into a hug. “You’re gonna do great out there. I know you’re gonna win this, we’ll be watching in the stands.”

“Damn right she’s gonna do good, she’s my niece after all.”

Schlatt pulled you away from your father’s hug and tried to ruffle your hair before you swatted away his hand, “don’t. You have no idea how long it took me to get a perfect ponytail. I have an ungodly amount of hairspray and bobby pins in my hair right now.”

“Fine. You’re gonna kick their asses tonight.”

Tommy and Tubbo pushed past Schlatt and both tackled you into a hug making you stumble slightly back.

“Kick their asses good (y/n)!” Tommy cheered, making you crack up before one stern glance from Philza completely stopped you. “Tommy, don’t say that. (Y/n), not funny.”

“Alright, Haley’s waiting for me. I gotta go, love you guys!” As you turned to walk through the door, you could hear your family following you and shouting “good luck”. You felt heat creep up on your cheeks as Haley rolled down her window and wove at your family with the biggest grin on her face.

“Thank you! We’re gonna take home the gold for sure!”

You hopped in her car as she rolled up the window and chuckled. “I love your family, they’re always so full of energy. It’s refreshing to see compared to how boring my family is.”

You glanced at your entire family gathered on the front porch. Tommy and Tubbo were practically vibrating with excitement, Wilbur and Techno calmly smiled and wove at you, Philza was grinning widely at you as you saw his mouth forming words that you couldn’t hear or read, and Schlatt was grinning cheekily at you. You raised your hand to wave at them as they vanished from view when Haley pulled out of your driveway. You smiled softly, “I love em too.”

The car ride was relatively quick with the same soft indie pop music floating from the speakers and an easy going conversation with Haley about the match tonight. You both thought that you could beat the other team if everyone focused 100% and played exactly like you guys did in practices. If everyone did that, you would be unstoppable.

Luckily for you and Haley, you were the first ones in line to board the bus so you two got the back seat with Zara and Jazzy sitting across from you guys. The hour long bus ride passed quickly and lively with you four passing around your phone and playing some mad libs, you were sure that by the end of the last game you four were laughing and crying. Sometime in the middle of the trip, you noticed that Haley would start to lean on your shoulder and continuously glance at you as she laughed. You desperately wanted to believe that it was because she liked you, but she was straight and she was your best friend. She was probably trying to make sure you were having a good time.

When the team had gotten to the opposing school and left the locker room to stretch in the gym, you could hear your family start to scream your and Haley’s names from the front row next to you, Tommy and Tubbo being the loudest amongst them with Philza trying to get them to quiet down so you could focus. You felt your cheeks heat up as you smiled at them and Haley wove enthusiastically back at them. Zara was laughing at you two. Stretching went by in a flash and before you knew it, you were on the court facing the opposing team.

The first match was won by the opposing team by five points. The second match stretched on and on until it was won by your team narrowly by two points. The team was going to have to shape up in the third match if you guys wanted a chance at winning, the opposing team was good. Before the third match started, Coach Williams called for a time out so you guys could talk about strategy. Before Haley could go back onto the court, you pulled her aside.

“Hales, we need to do what we practiced. The other team won’t be expecting it at all, I’ve been setting you up this entire game. They’re never going to expect you setting me up for a spike.”

“When are we going to do it though? We need a better plan.”

“I’m sure the opportunity will come and both of us will recognize it. We just can’t do it too early in the game though, that’ll ruin their surprise.”

“(Y/n), I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“When do I not Hales? We gotta get gold this year.”

The third round went by with both teams constantly swapping places until you both were tied fifteen to fifteen. You saw the ball flying towards Haley, giving her the perfect opportunity to set you up for a spike. “HALEY NOW!”

You watched as her face hardened in determination as she pretended like she was going to spike it by jumping high in the air and stretching her arms back, making the opposing front row players all gather in front of her. Much to their surprise, she launched it towards you as you leaped up and went for the kill. The stinging of the ball hit by your wrist and the smack sound the ball made when it slammed onto the open gym floor was something you’d never forget as the crowd around you went wild over the unexpected play. You could hear the high pitched screaming of Tommy and Tubbo over everybody else. Glancing at them over your shoulder, you saw them jumping up and down on the gym floor and looking at you with awe filled eyes and gaping mouths. The rest of your family looked at you with similar expressions, their cheers echoing in your mind. Winking at them, you turned back to your team and went straight to Haley. Clapping a hand on her shoulder, you pulled her into a quick hug, yelling over the raving of the crowd. “HALEY WE NAILED THAT!”

“HOLY SHIT I DID NOT THINK THAT WAS ACTUALLY GONNA WORK!”

“You have such little faith in your setter! You wound me Hales.”

“Well, I would have more faith in you if you weren’t chaotic on the court, sweetheart.”

You felt yourself surge in happiness at the nickname, but you couldn’t afford to focus too much on it. Your team only needed one more point to win best in the state and go to nationals. It would be the first time in your team’s history if you reached national level, and you’d be damned if you were the one to screw it up for them.

The last rotation went on for a while, each team fighting tooth and nail for the state championship title with clashing determination. You tried your best to block every hit and try to set Haley up for a spike, and you were successful for the most part, only missing a few blocks. You saw the setter adjacent to you set the spiker up for a spike and jumped up in time to try to block it, your arms stretched upwards and your palms out. Only, the ball didn’t hit your hands. It collided painfully with your nose, ricocheted off your face with a thwack and sailed over to the other side of the court. Your head whipped back as your body followed suit and flew backwards onto the floor. Without giving you any time to react, your head bounced back and cracked against the polished hardwood floor of the gym. Everything went black.

“...(y……”

“..(y/n)......”

“(Y/n).”

You faintly heard someone calling someone’s name over the continuous ringing noise. Was it your name? It felt right, so it had to be your name. You peeled your eyes open to see a blurry figure hovering over you. It was swirled with tans, browns, and backs. After a while of the figure repeating your name, it slowly became more recognizable, albeit appearing twice in your vision. It took you a while to figure out who this was before your muddled brain recognized Haley.

“Hales! There’s two o’ya. Twice as beautiful babe…” You slurred out as you attempted to smile at her.

“Oh thank god, PLEASE WE NEED A DOCTOR SHE HIT HER HEAD!” Her usually angelic voice gritted against your brain like sandpaper making you cringe as pain exploded in your head.

“God babe you’re so loud, why’s so bright? I-wha's goin on?” You blearily tried to move your head to look around only to be stopped by a pair of large hands on each side of your head gently holding it in place. You moved your laggy eyes around to look at the figure. He was a blonde man with blue eyes and a hint of stubble on his chin. His eyebrows were knitted together and he looked… he looked… your brain worked to figure out why he looked how he looked. Who was he?

“Please don’t move hun.” His muffled voice was baritone. You squinted at him trying to figure out who this man was.

“Who th f-fuck… why?”

“I’m your dad hun. Do-do you not recognize me?” You made a noise in the back of your throat as your stuffy brain finally put a name to the face.

“Dad- wha’s goin on? I’on feel so good…”

“Shh, I know, I know. Just stop moving and talking. Everything’s fine. I’m here. You’re okay.”

“Mmk… Dad, where are we? I’ont know- you’re so quiet.”

“Stop moving so much. You’re on the floor in a gym. You just won your team the state championship. Now stop talking please.”

Huh. So that’s why everybody seemed to appear from above you. You strained your eyes to look around you, but you could only see your dad’s face hovering above you. “Shit I- who’s aroun’ me? Where’s Hales?”

“I’m right here sweetheart. I got the doctor, Mr. Minecraft.”

Your dad’s face moved away from your vision so fast that it made your head spin and your stomach twist. Another face appeared above you that you once again didn’t recognize.

“I’m Doctor Martin, can you tell me your first and last name?”

“Uh, (y/n) Minecraft?”

“Good, what month are we in right now?”

“Nov-November?”

“Close, it’s late October. Can you tell me who this,” he pointed to your dad, “is?”

“S’my dad Phillip.”

“That’s your dad Philza.”

The questioning stopped as he suddenly shined a blinding light into your sensitive eyes. You hissed as you tried to move your head away from the offending light only to be held in place by your dad’s hands. Your head spun as you moved too quickly and a wave of nausea hit you, making you groan and move your arm to cover your eyes. Your hand was stopped by something warm and soft wrapping around it and holding it tightly. Everything was so overwhelmingly and painfully bright and loud. You wanted to make it stop.

“Mr. Minecraft, your daughter appears to have a concussion. I don’t have the tools on hand to determine the severity of it, but it’s worrying that her pupils are asymmetrical, she’s delirious, and has slight memory loss. I understand you live about an hour away from here, and it’s alright for you to take her to a hospital closer to your house. Make sure you keep her alert.”

Your delirious mind only registered about half of what came out of the doctor’s mouth. You mumbled gibberish as you once again opened your eyes to look around. You were only briefly able to crane your neck to the left. Several figures large and small were standing behind your dad. Your family, your mind supplemented. Slowly, your mind was starting to recognize your surroundings even if there was currently double of everything and everything was blurry.

“I’m going to help you stand up. Do ya think you can do that?”

“Yeah Dad.” You lifted your upper body off from the ground with a gentle hand on your back helping you sit up. Fighting the wave of nausea that slapped you in the face, you reached up to rub at your eyes. A hand once again stopped you. You peeked your eyelids open and lightly glared at whomever stopped you. “Hales you’re lucky you’re so cute I woulda slapped you. I like holdin but you’re bein annoying. Stop.” You attempted to make your voice sound firm, but the words that came out of your mouth were slightly slurred.

She was silent as she helped her dad haul you to your feet. Once on your feet, you saw the room spin and felt yourself start to sway slightly. An arm wrapped itself around your shoulders and pulled you close to them so that your weight was supported. They were a little taller than you were making it easy to lean on them.

“...Can you walk?” A deep, monotone voice rumbled the chest of the person you were leaning against.

“Mhm. ‘M not weak.” Though your limbs felt like they were made of molasses, you placed one foot in front of the other slowly. The person moved alongside you, “you’re doing so good, keep going.” That sparked familiarity in you as you stopped in your tracks and tried to look up at the person you were leaning against making the person tighten their arm around your shoulders when you almost fell over.

“Tech?”

“Yeah, it’s Technoblade. Just focus on walking. You’re almost out of the gym.”

When you realized that you were out of the gym, you sighed in relief. It was so much quieter and darker. Though it was still relatively bright, it was better than the gym.

“S’better.”

“When we get her to the car we can give her some sunglasses or something if it’s still too bright for her.”

“Wilbs-”

“Focus on walking.”

You huffed in irritation, “don’ tell me what to do bitch.”

You felt Techno’s body jolt slightly as he chuckled, making your head throb at the sudden movement. “Just walk.”

When you walked outside, you shivered as you felt the cool air nip at your exposed skin. Right, you were in your volleyball uniform. “I’ll go pull the car around, you guys stay with her.”

You saw a tall brunet start to walk away from you. Uncle Splat? Uncle Schmat? Whatever his name was, you were sure he was your uncle. You tried to snuggle closer to Techno, craving warmth but never being satisfied. Where was your uncle?

After a while, you saw a car moving towards you and blinding light pointed right at you making you cringe away and groan. Techno started to slowly walk towards the car. “C’mon (y/n), you’re almost there. When you’re in the car you can relax.”

“Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno, you’re in the back row. Schlatt can drive and Wil, you’re taking the passenger seat. I’ll stay with her in the middle row so she can have some room to lay down.” Tommy and Tubbo were with you? Why weren’t they talking, they usually were very vocal.

“Tom, Tubbs didja like the game?”

They didn’t say anything as they climbed into the car. Did they not hear you?

“They’re just… tired (y/n).” Your dad’s voice reassured you as he took Techno’s place holding you up.

“I wanna nap. ‘M so tired.”

“You can’t sleep yet. We gotta get you to a doctor first.”

“Mm. Makes sense.”

“Let’s get you in the car hun.”

As he helped you climb into the car, you felt an overwhelming wave of nausea wash over you making you lose your balance and almost faceplant into the cloth seats. You felt yourself being gently, yet urgently taken out of the car and led to grass as you felt your esophagus shorten. Something burning made its way up your throat and spewed into the grass. You felt someone rubbing your back as you puked up your dinner.

When you were done, you reached up with a shaking hand to wipe your mouth. “You feelin better? Think you can get back into the car or do you need to sit down for a bit?”

“Car.”

After some difficulty, you were successfully in the middle row of the car laying down with your head on Philza’s lap. Soon enough, your shoes were taken off and a blanket was draped over you.

“(Y/n), what do you remember?”

You scrunched up your face as you squinted at Philza’s face. “I remember playing volleyball with Hales. She’s so pretty, she’s straight though. I remember the other team hitting the ball, me jumping, then nothin. Wha’ happened?”

You watched as Philza winced, “well, you got everything right so far. You got hit in the face with the ball so you fell and hit your head on the floor. You were passed out for a minute before you woke up. It was a pretty nasty fall, we’re going to the hospital now. How’re ya feelin?”

“Head hurts, ‘m seein two of everything, an I can’t think.”

“Do you know what a concussion is?” You nodded in his lap slightly, “you probably have one.”

After a while of talking, you were slowly starting to come to your senses and your speech was clearing up, but your head was still too stuffy to think about what you were saying before you said it. You didn’t have a filter.

“Do you wanna tell us about your week so far? Do you remember most of it?”

“Mhm, it was shit. On Monday I had a panic attack and Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were being bitches to me all day. They fucked up my back. On Tuesday, they got mad at me for ditching them and they had me do their homework, had another panic attack, and Haley told me that someone took pictures of our boobs ‘n stuff and they were gonna leak it to the school if Haley didn’t stop hanging out with me. Haley and I almost kissed, but she’s straight. Pulled an all nighter and Wednesday I accidentally came out to Tech and Wil and had another panic attack. Annie, Adrian, and Sammy took more pictures of me through my window, Annie outed me to the entire school and slapped me. Another panic attack, skipped the last two classes and felt like shit the entire practice. Today Adrian and Sammy told me to kill myself and I had another panic attack. ’S about it.”

As you were going through your week, the hand that was previously gently stroking your hair had frozen as the car was enveloped in a tense silence. Luckily, Tommy and Tubbo were passed out in the back seat so they didn’t hear how bad your week was. Everyone awake knew that you had a few bad days this week, but they didn’t know the full extent of it. You watched as Philza’s expression had turned downright murderous, but you didn’t really care. You were busy talking about your week.

For the rest of the car ride, Philza asked you simple questions like what your favorite color was, your favorite animal, basically your favorite everything. Eventually, the car pulled into the hospital parking lot and Philza helped you get out of the car. “Schlatt, can you take the boys home so they can get some rest? I’ll stay with her.”

“Yeah, I’m on it. Don’t cause too much trouble (y/n), we all know you can raise hell.” He watched you for a reaction, but when you didn’t react, he coughed. “Well, I’ll see ya later kid. Good luck.”

The car drove off leaving you and Philza at the front of the emergency room building. “It’s gonna be a long night (y/n).”

“I gotta finish Annie’s essay and Sammy’s presentation though.”

“No you don’t, I’ll email your teachers.”

You two checked in with the front desk before moving to sit on the uncomfortable chairs. It was going to be a long night. You were so tired.

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years

Text

Be Mine, this Quarantine

"Dude." Dean nervously chuckles, scrubbing his face with his hand. The other one holds the phone to his ear. "I haven't even been able to ask this guy out to dinner. And you're asking me to ask him to go into isolation with me?"

"You're being dramatic again." Sam tells him, matter-of-factly, as if Dean's the one being unreasonable here.

Sam is the one who specifically called him on a Sunday from California to remind him to self-isolate, but "do it with someone like Castiel, okay?" - like he's supposed to be taking care of his older brother from fucking Stanford, like Dean knows anyone else like Cas, and like he's ever going to be able to propose something of that sort to Cas.

"He has a third-floor apartment." Sam points out, revisiting all of his super valid points. "You share a dorm with three other guys. And he just seems like the kind who'd be the correct amount of a germophobe." Dean rolls his eyes - although he also agrees. "Dean, you share so many classes with him that if nothing else, you could revise your entire semester together - and to top it all off, you're like best friends."

Benny comes to Dean's head and he starts to protest.

"You text him, Dean." The eyeroll and bitchface are audible in Sam's voice. "You, who exits all text chains you've ever been added to because quote unquote you're not an adolescent teenager with a celebrity crush, or looking to be catfished - you, Dean Winchester, text Cas."

That - wasn't far from the truth.

He wouldn't call them texting buddies or anything, but Castiel always sends a good morning text, and Dean always sends him a picture of his breakfast (because that's what he's up to by the time Castiel wakes up) and sometimes Dean's late for class because he lost track of time while talking to Cas, and sometimes they stay up all night together discussing the most inconsequential things like why mattresses matter to Dean and bees matter to Cas, and - yeah. He should probably call them texting buddies.

"Whatever, bitch." Dean throws back, taking the small losses his way as long as he wins the final battle. "Fine, we're friends. That doesn't automatically mean we'll be able to live together."

"You cannot actually mean that." Sam scoffs. "You're the best kind of neat freak I know, because you just end up doing all the tidying up by yourself. And you can cook." Dean huffs. "Admit it, jerk. Compatibility in a shared living space shouldn't be your concern."

Sure, Sam makes some good points, but Dean has the biggest card up his sleeve - which will trump all of Sam's meticulously presented arguments.

He's sorta in love with Cas.

But to say out loud to his little brother, it comes out as, "What if Cas doesn't want me there?"

Sam pauses.

Point, Dean Winchester.

"That's exactly why you need to talk to him." He finally says, but he sounds more thoughtful like it finally entered his twenty two year old brain that Cas might not want to shack up with Dean.

"Like hell, I will."

"I swear on your bullshit, Dean," Sam threatens. "I won't hesitate to take a cheap-ass flight, straight to Cas's apartment."

Dean balks. "You're not getting on any planes right now, Sammy -"

"And you're asking him." Sam declares, and if he were in front of Dean, he'd be crossing his arms on his chest which usually implies the end of a debate in Sam-the-to-be-lawyer speak. "Promise me."

"What will I even say?" Dean retorts, indignant. "Like, do I just go up to the guy like 'hey, wanna have me impose on you for a bunch of weeks?'" Sam snickers like Dean's trying to be funny. "'I promise to clean and make you food if you let me live with you during a pandemic'?"

"Something like that." Sam laughs, and Dean has to smile - because that doesn't happen very often and when it does, it reminds him of a past where they were much closer than California and Kansas. "Tell me how it goes, okay?"

"Nothing's going -"

"You promised."

"I didn't fucking promise a thing -"

The line clicks, and Sam is gone. Dean lands back on his bed, and wonders briefly if it'd be easier to die.

He calls Cas - because they're not goddamn texting buddies, no matter what Sam says - and asks if he's free for lunch.

Cas says yes and actually sounds excited about it.

When Dean reaches their usual diner, he takes longer than usual to park the Impala - all the while thinking about how he's going to frame the question to Cas, because he's fought it out with himself and knows that he's going to do it. He'd also taken longer than usual to drive there from the University apparently, because when he reaches, Cas is already there.

He's sitting on a table for two - probably just because that allows him to have a seat against the wall and Cas is kind of adorable about small things like that - and he's slumping over his phone.

But he puts it down when Dean approaches, and as Dean takes off his jacket, Cas puts his phone back in his jeans and uses his fingers to fidget instead. When Dean sits, a little amused, Cas is the one who speaks up first and in a hurry.

"Would you like to quarantine with me?"

Dean blinks. He takes a moment to think and then asks, "Did Sam get to you?"

"Uh, your brother Sam?" Cas frowns, shaking his head. "No, why would he?"

"Nevermind." Dean believes him. Though he cannot believe what just happened.

"So?"

"Oh." He's supposed to give an answer, because Cas doesn't know how much Dean's been thinking about it. Though, in his defense, most of the time, Cas tends to be so goddamn intuitive that Dean feels like he can read his mind.

Nonetheless, Dean tries to answer as casually as he can. "Yes. I mean, of course. Thank you for asking."

That's Dean Winchester in a sentence.

He tries to shoot for the normal, and ends up in affirmative-response-to-a-promposal territory.

"Are you sure?" Cas asks, sounding slightly less sure than before.

Did you not hear me say 'of course, thank you for asking' after that yes?

"Yeah, buddy." He pulls the menu from Cas's side of the table to his, sliding it on the table. "So what are we eating?"

"I'm not forcing you into this, am I?" Cas interrupts, hand on Dean's wrist jolting his attention back and ruining his complete 'casual' cover, because now Dean's sweating too. "Just because I asked, and just because we're friends - you don't have to say yes to anything, okay?"

"I know that." Dean gives Cas his best reassuring smile, though it's a little non-assured from his own core.

"I wake up late and I'm not sure when I sleep." Cas confesses, eyes worried. "The flat is clean only because I stuff everything in the closets. And I have a neighbor - you remember Balthazar, right? He just returned from France."

"How long ago is 'just'?" Dean repeats, and then adds. "And frankly I'd assumed he was simply being pretentious when we met."

"Two months." Castiel bites his lip. "And he is. The accent is fake."

"We'll survive." Dean announces, grinning broader. "Plus I can't wait to hear that guy minus the accent now."

Castiel makes an exasperated sound.

"Cas, how do I put this?" Dean sighs, knowing that things would eventually come to this. "I would be grateful if you'd let me stay with you, and -"

"Sometimes I wander around the house with my cat past midnight." Cas volunteers, out of the blue.

Naked?

Dean's brain jumps there and then he drags it back from the gutter - or, you know, the land of tempting imaginable scenarios.

"I want to live with you, you dumbass."

Cas pauses like that's at all surprising. "You do?"

"I was literally trying to figure out how to ask." Dean rubs the back of his neck, feeling his face heat up. "And then you did, okay? And then I said yes, and I wanted us to not talk about it all lunch because later we're going to have important shit to figure out like food and beer and toilet paper and -"

"When exactly you'll move in." Cas offers, and when he puts it like that, a little bit of Dean melts.

"Uh-huh."

"Okay." Cas smiles, and finally it's that smile - eyes all crinkled, nose all scrunched up, the very definition of gummy - and fuck, Dean's very much in love with him and has just dug himself a huge, apartment-shaped hole, but he'd fucking like to live with him too, and he's a fucking liar if he isn't being a little hopeful about it too.

"We'll not talk about it." Cas declares. "And before, you'd asked me what we were eating?"

Dean nods.

"Well, I asked the waitress for recommendations for something memorable and she offered me the specials menu." Cas says, innocent as though everyone in the city doesn't know not to ask for the specials' menu at Reed's diner.

Dean starts to pray.

"So, kale pecan pesto." Cas announces. "And yes, I had to Google what that is later and no, I'm not showing you."

"God-fucking-dammit, Cas." Dean glares at him. "These might be our last diner meals for the foreseeable future, I don't want to have rabbit food -"

And then Cas winks at him like that's something he's allowed to do, and Dean's suddenly flustered again - and if that isn't an apt summary of how living with Cas is going to be like, he doesn't know what is.

#destiel #quarantine #destiel fluff #self isolation #destiel crack #soft bois #destiel ficlet #destiel college au #young destiel #young dean winchester #young castiel #castiel #castiel/dean winchester #castiel/dean #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #not spoilers #representation week #coronavirus

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 3 years

Note

heres a Hell's Studio fic idea for ya, both Sammy and Snowflake end up sharing Snowflakes body for a week due to a pipe bursting and covering the two in ink

Poor Sam can never catch a break, can he?

Was it mentioned before that the Ink just loved to fuck around with the Music Director? Because it just really loved messing around with the guy. Maybe he had the funniest reactions in its mind, maybe the bitter bully of magic art supplies thought of the man as someone who needed to be taken down a peg or two, or maybe it was just that the music department had the worst pipe setup in the entire studio, thus making it the hot-spot area for magic ink related mishaps and had also made Sammy the most common victim of those said mishaps not out of spite, but sheer coincidence as he was simply almost always in that constantly-flooding area.

You can't exactly sound sane when you're constantly complaining about getting wet while you live in the splash zone.

But whatever the case may be, a solid 90% of the shenanigans that the ink had in store for someone usually fell on Sammy’s head. And some days it felt like the stuff only bothered to mess with others if it meant that could mess with the irate musician at the same time.

Today started off fairly normal for the studio and its residents; same bustling rhythm of a symphony of pencils, same small talk chats in the break room, same ...workplace accidents.

Snowflake was trying to fish a mouse out of a crack in the wall for curiosity's sake when Sammy heard the tell-tale groan of a pipe about to burst coming from within the deep hole in the wall. A groan that if years of working in this inky studio hell had taught him anything, was going to be a particularly bad break.

Acting on instinct, the musician grabbed the imp and pulled him away from the crack but it was too late, the pipe burst over both of them, making the little demon flop down into a large inky pool.

"Not again!"

Sammy sighed to himself as he shook off the access ink and noticed that his surroundings were much taller than they usually were. God there were days where he wondered why he didn't just quit and looked for a quieter and less stressful job that DIDN'T involve losing his humanity and peace of mind every other week. The music director reached out to where he swore Snowflake was, only for his hand to touch nothing but ink.

That was... concerning to say the least. Sammy swore that he held on tight to the little guy and didn't dare let go, he had to be somewhere in the pile of magical gunk.

"Don't panic Sammy, the ink wouldn't bring someone to life only to melt them away after a few weeks, right?"

And yet, the more he looked around, the more it seemed like that there was only one person in the ink pile. And the more the musician had felt a large pit of dread churn in his stomach.

"SNOWFLAKE?! SNOWFLAKE, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

The music director frantically dug through globs upon globs of ink, internally praying that the imp was simply shrunken to six inches like others had been instead of melted away only to find nothing but ink, ink, and more ink. The man's panic-clouded mind did not register the fact that he his hands had the same gloves as the little demon did. Or maybe it did, but the man decided to focus on the more important part of the situation; the missing toon child.

"Oh god... Oh god, what am I going to tell Wally?!"

"Mr. Sammy?"

Snowflake's voice called out, jolting the musician with a mixture of relief and that slightly annoyed feeling people get when it turns out that they were panicking over nothing.

"Snowflake! Where are you? Why did you stay quiet when I called out for you?"

"I-I thought I was looking for you! Where did you go?"

"Where did 'I' go?" Sammy parroted as he frowned and searched. "I'm right here..."

The man's voice trailed off as he finally fished something out of the ink pile: his own, heavily ink-stained empty clothes.

"SAMMY?! What happened to you?!"

Snowflake called out in worry as he looked over the empty outfit while Sammy just looked at the clothes in annoyance.

"That &#^$ing ink again..."

Who was controlling the body now? Either both of them or one of them, but neither of them could give a straight answer as the Sammy-possessed Snowflake marched on down to Joey's office, climbed on top of the other chair, paused for a moment as the body couldn't decide whether to gently place the clothes on the animator's desk or to slam them into it and wound up just dropping them on it instead.

"Snowflake my boy!" Joey greeted in his usual chipper tone. "What brings you to my office today?"

"M-Mr. Drew, I.. Sammy is.. Sammy and I got caught in the ink and then-" The little demon stiffened for a bit and a frown crossed his features, while his voice did not change, his tone and mannerisms certainly did. "I'm stuck inside Wally's kid's body, and both of us want me out of it."

"Okay! Don't worry, I know exactly how to fix this and it'll only take a jiffy!"

Joey retrieved several ritualistic items while humming to himself, but when he reached into his desk drawer he froze up for a second then started frantically rifling through it.

"O-oh! Oh dear... Um.. Excuse me for a minute."

He walked out of the room and dialed up a number on the phone, the pair of souls stuck in one form crept up to the door and put his ear against the door, only managing to get one half of the conversation.

"Hello? Yes, it's me again. Do you have any 'scones' in stock?"

"A week?! Are you sure?!"

"No, I don't doubt it..."

"Yes, yes, of course, I understand."

"...But how do I break it to them that they're stuck like that for until Monday?"

"Well, yes, this does happen often... But it's not like I WANT it to!"

"You know how magic gets!"

"Thank you, I'll see you Sunday night then. Goodbye."

As Joey hung up, Snowflake zipped back to where he was sitting earlier. The man walked back into his office, sighed, and shook his head before sheepishly looking up at Snowflake and Sammy.

"I'm sorry you two but I'm afraid I have bad news; I'm missing a key ingredient for the reversal spell and I can't get it until Monday."

The demon's head clonked down on the desk, letting out the longest, most tired sounding muffled scream that Joey had ever heard, clearly from the music director. Don't get him wrong, he loved kids and wouldn't mind spending the week with Snowflake under non-magic-ink related circumstances. But he wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of being a kid again himself and also possessing somebody against both of their wills for any amount of time.

"Now ...Sammy..? There no need to worry, we've been through this before."

"He knows, he's just upset because aside from the weirdness of this, he and Susie were planning a date night on Friday and now they're gonna have to reschedule it again."

'He didn't need to know that!' Sammy mentally hissed.

"Nevermind, they weren't planning a date in the first place."

Sammy internally facepalmed.

"Terribly sorry to hear that then." Joey fidgeted with his tie nervously. "...I'll give you the paid leave while you're like this."

"Thanks, Joey."

---------------------------------------------------------

Wally wasn't quite sure if he should laugh, cry, or do both when he brought Snowflake and Sammy home.

The Janitor was used to weird stuff by now, heck, most of the time it felt like something crazy and magical happened every week. But there's 'the ink turned every piece of furnature in the building into cake' weird and then there was 'the guy who's technically your boss is possessing your son and now the power dynamic is weird.' weird.

Both of them seemed quiet, which was normal for Snowflake but slightly concerning for Sammy. Wally half expected to hear a long rant about 'the &$@#ing ink that should NOT be magical, seriously, who in their right mind pumps a studio full of MAGIC INK?!' or at least something that indicated that the music director was in there.

"So uh... how ya feelin' about the whole 'body sharin' thing champ?"

"It's kinda like sharing a room with somebody who doesn't want to be in it in the first place and also it's like having a bunch of songs stuck in your head that you want to listen to so that they can get unstuck except the songs technically don't exist yet."

"Okay, and what about you, Sam? you've been pretty quiet."

"How do I usually feel about these kind of things, Wally?"

"Fair point."

As Wally and Snowflake talked to each other, Sammy wondered if he was going to be staying at Wally's place throughout the week, or switching days between his own place and Wally's. Either way, it felt like this was going to be a very long week.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #Hell's Studio AU #sammy lawrence #snowflake the demon #joey drew #wally franks #fanfic

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spn-safeandsound · 4 years

Text

10. Bad Energy

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x14; Nightmare

Word Count: 7,040

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore, mention of sexual situations, suicide

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoy! Remember to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Profile Description!

Dean couldn't sleep.

His eyes were tired and his body was lax but he couldn't get his damn mind to shut off long enough to get his usual four hours. Never before had he had such a hard time falling asleep. Usually, he'd close his eyes and within ten minutes, he'd be dead to the world.

Not that night, though, and it was pissing him off. He could hear Sam snoring in the other bed and the ticking of the clock on the wall by the bathroom but other than that, it was quiet. The noises coming from the room next to them had stopped hours ago, much to his relief.

Maybe that was why he couldn't sleep. Maybe because Julia had taken home a guy from the bar and he had to listen to them fuck through the wall because the television's volume didn't go that high and Sam was already asleep. Maybe it was because the guy wouldn't shut his fucking mouth despite the fact that he heard no such noises from Julia and had left as soon as he was done fucking her.

Maybe it was the fact that he was picturing himself with Julia. He wanted to know whether or not she was as talkative in the bedroom as she was during the day or if she kept those noises to herself, only letting out the softest of moans or gasps of pleasure. He wondered what she liked; did she like it slow and sensual, hard and fast, or both? Was she submissive or dominant? What were her kinks; spanking, blindfold, dirty talk?

Dean wasn't ashamed to say that he wanted to know everything. He had come to terms with his physical attraction to Julia a while ago, just after he had that dream when she was sick. It wasn't really that he accepted it, it was the fact that more and more he started having dreams about her—most of them were sexy dreams but, here and there, there were some that included them being all domesticated with each other—and when he had sex with Cassie, he was kind of wishing he was there with Julia, instead.

And he had no right to be jealous because they were not together and he didn't even think Julia saw him as anything but a big brother, but he was anyway. When she told him at the bar that she was bringing some pretentious blonde guy she had been dancing with back to the motel, he wanted to say something and deny her but he couldn't. Julia wasn't his—she was a single independent woman who could sleep with anyone she wanted.

Dean just wished it was him warming her bed and not some random douchebag.

He heard Sam's steady breathing quicken from the bed beside him. He looked over as his brother began to squirm in his sleep, no doubt having one of his usual nightmares. It wasn't long until Sam woke, sitting up in the bed.

"Dean?" Sam turned to Dean, his eyes wide with fear.

Dean sat up, too, his voice groggy despite his lack of sleep. "Hey," he said soothingly. "What's wrong? It's the middle of the night."

Sam didn't answer as he turned on the light on the nightstand between the beds. He jumped from his bed and went straight to his bag, hurriedly stuffing his clothes back into it.

"We have to go," he told Dean as he set his bag down and made his way toward the door connecting to Julia's room.

Dean rolled out of bed and fixed his brother with a questioning look. "What are you talking about?"

"We have to go right now," Sam repeated, knocking insistently on Julia's door. "Come on, Julia, wake up!"

Bewildered, Dean slowly walked over to his bag and started packing, leaving out a set of clothes to change into. He had no idea what made Sam so upset but it was worrying him. What if it was another one of those freaky visions Sam kept on having?

The connecting door opened behind Sam's fist, revealing a groggy Julia dressed in her regular pajamas. "What the hell is going on?" she rubbed her left eye with her fist and set her gaze on Sam. "Sam?"

"Just get ready to go," he told her firmly. "Now. We're leaving."

"O-Okay..." Julia shot Dean a curious look but he just shrugged and slid into the bathroom to change.

Twenty minutes later they were checked out of their rooms and on the interstate headed north. Sam had explained that he did have another one of his visions. He told Julia and Dean that he saw a man get murdered in his garage by something invisible and he wanted to be there to save him.

Dean didn't really believe that Sam's nightmare was anything but a nightmare—he hoped, anyway—but Julia could feel the distress pouring off of Sam. He really believed that his nightmare was a vision so she believed it was, too.

An hour into the drive, Sam pulled out his phone to get a location on the man. "McReady. Detective McReady," he informed the dispatch number he called, consulting a fake badge that he had stolen. "Badge number 1-5-8. I've got a signal four-eighty in progress and I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven...Yeah, okay, just hurry."

He waited on hold, a tense look on his face.

"Sammy, relax," Dean advised him tiredly. "I'm sure it's just a nightmare."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"I mean it," Dean insisted. "Ya know, a normal, everyday, naked-in-class nightmare. This license plate, it won't check out. You'll see."

"It felt different, Dean. It was real," Sam sighed, almost in defeat. "Like when I dreamt about our old house and Jessica."

Dean still didn't want to believe that this was a vision. "Yeah, that makes sense. You're dreaming about our house and your girlfriend. This guy in your dream, have you ever seen him before?"

"No."

"No, exactly," Dean nodded in satisfaction. "Why would you have premonitions about some random dude in Michigan?"

"I don't know," Sam's voice took on a tone of annoyance. Dean agreed was Sam was taken off hold. "Yes, I'm here..." he gave Dean a triumphant look as he repeated what dispatch told him. "Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address?"

Julia reached over the seat, handing him a notepad to write the address down on. He took it and scribbled down a house number and street name.

"Got it, thanks," Sam said gratefully before ending the call.

"It checks out?" Julia asked tentatively, leaning her chin on the back of the front seat.

Sam nodded. "Yeah," he confirmed before turning to Dean, who looked a little freaked out. "How far are we?"

"From Saginaw?" Dean shrugged. "A couple of hours."

Sam pressed his lips together worriedly. "Drive faster."

They arrived in Saginaw too late. There were already three police cars and an ambulance outside Jim Miller's house. A crowd of neighborhood residents had already gathered outside the house, watching as two coroners wheeled out their neighbor in a black body bag.

Julia, Dean, and Sam joined the crowd, fitting into the back.

"What happened?" Julia asked the older woman standing next to her.

"Suicide," the woman shook her head sadly. "I can't believe it."

Sam came up on the other side of her, giving her a curious look. "Did you know them?"

"I saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine's," she sighed. "He always seemed so normal. I guess you never know what's going on behind closed doors."

Dean hummed on the other side of Julia. "Guess not."

"How did—uh, how are they saying it happened?" Sam asked delicately.

"I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running."

Julia inhaled shakily and looked over to Dean. What the woman said sounded exactly like what Sam told them happened in his nightmare—or, vision was more appropriate. Dean looked down at her with fear in his eyes so she quickly grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

"Do you know about what time they found him?" Sam continued to speak with the woman.

"Oh, it just happened about an hour or two ago," the woman informed him. "His poor family. I can't even imagine what they're going through."

Julia smiled sadly and looked back at the house. A woman—who she presumed was Jim Miller's wife—was being comforted by a man her age and a younger guy, around Sam's age.

The three of the split off from the crowd to head back to the Impala. Julia had let go of Dean's hand when she saw the upset look on Sam's face and immediately went to him, wrapping her arm around his waist to offer some comfort.

"Sam," Dean sighed, noticing how down his brother was. "we got here as fast as we could."

"Not fast enough," Sam disagreed. "This doesn't make any sense. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn't a chance I could stop them from happening?"

Dean just shook his head, his eyes back on the mourning Miller family. "I don't know."

"So," Julia spoke up; if Sam said that he saw someone—or something—killing Jim Miller and it was invisible, didn't it mean this was their type of case? "what do you think killed him?"

"Maybe the guy just killed himself," Dean stated, turning back to Julia and Sam. "Maybe there's nothing supernatural going on at all."

Sam shook his head immediately. "I'm telling you, I watched it happen," he insisted. "He was murdered by something, Dean. I watched it trap him in the garage."

"Like what?" Dean said quickly, more than skeptical. "A spirit, a poltergeist—what?"

"I don't know what it was," Sam grew irritated with Dean's attitude. "I don't know why I'm having these dreams. I don't know what the fuck is happening, Dean."

"We'll figure it out, Sam," Julia assured him.

Sam nodded at her and then eyed his brother, who was looking at him intensely. "What?"

"Nothing," Dean shrugged. "I'm just—I'm worried about you, man."

"Well, don't look at me like that!"

Dean quickly looked away. "I'm not looking at you like anything," he said innocently; Julia rolled her eyes at the both of them. "Though, I gotta say, you do look like shit."

Sam gave Dean his bitch face. "Nice. Thanks."

"Stop arguing, boys," Julia sighed, unwrapping her arm from Sam's waist to walk to the left side of the Impala. "We can pick this up in the morning so—"

"Since when are you in charge, shortcake?" Dean interrupted her with raised eyebrows.

Julia gave him a deadpan face. "Did you want to do the honors?"

"Yes," Dean nodded firmly and cleared his throat. "We'll pick this up in the morning. We'll check out the house. We'll talk to the family."

"Guys, you saw them," Sam stated. "They're devastated. They're not going to want to talk to us."

A slow smirk spread over Dean's face. "Yeah, you're right," he admitted, almost giddily. "but I think I know who they will talk to."

Julia and Sam gave him confused looks, speaking in unison, "Who?"

Dean just winked at them and opened the driver's door, sliding into his seat.

"Absolutely not," Julia yelled at Dean, looking down at the costume on the bed. "I am—I can't believe that you—oh, my God, Dean! No!"

"I don't see the big deal," Dean shrugged as he picked up the headpiece that went with her costume. "You'll look hot."

"Nuns are not supposed to be hot," she ripped it away from him with a glare. "and you shouldn't wear that, either!"

Dean looked down at the priest outfit that he had changed into. "Why not?" he looked at her as if it was all perfectly normal. "The family will talk to us if they—"

"It's disrespectful—"

"Like you haven't done disrespectful things," Dean scoffed. "Like last night when you—"

"Dean Jonah Winchester, I will cut off your tongue, I swear—"

"I'd like to see you try, shortcake."

"Ugh, you're so frustrating!"

"Would you guys just shut up?" Sam called as he walked out of the bathroom, changed into his priest outfit with his hair slicked back nicely.

Dean pointed at Julia. "She started it."

Julia gaped at him, amazed by his gall. "I started it? Are you—"

"Hey!" Sam interrupted Julia before she could start the bickering all over again. "Dean, you should have known that Julia wasn't going to wear that. J, you have to dress up as something or no one will talk to you."

"I'm not gonna be a nun," Julia insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. "but, I can be a grief counselor."

Sam sighed and nodded, relieved that she had another plan. "Good, get dressed."

Julia beamed at him and, before she grabbed a change of clothes from her bag, shot Dean a dirty look. Dean just rolled his eyes at her while she stomped into the bathroom to get ready for the wake at the Miller house.

"Churches have grief counselors?" Dean asked Sam, stuffing the nun costume back into its rental bag.

"Some of the bigger ones do," Sam confirmed. "but J was right. This has gotta be a whole new low for us."

"Hey, we want the family to talk to us, right?"

Dean was right; the priests outfits got them into the Miller house without looking suspicious.

"Good afternoon," Dean greeted the man who opened the door and gave the three of them unimpressed looks. "I'm Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley, and that is Miss Stanley, our newest grief counselor. We were sent over from St. Augustine's. May we come in?"

The man pressed his lips together and nodded, stepping aside so they could enter.

"Thank you," Sam said graciously.

"We're very sorry for your loss," Julia gave the man a sympathetic smile.

"It's in difficult times like these when the Lord's guidance is most needed—"

"Look," the man interrupted Dean. "you wanna pitch your whole Lord-has-a-plan thing, fine. Just don't pitch it to me. My brother's dead."

"Roger," a woman's voice spoke up behind them. "please!"

Roger gave her a semi-apologetic look and nodded at Julia, Dean, and Sam. "Excuse me."

The woman walked over to them as Roger moved away. "I'm sorry about my brother-in-law," she said wearily. "He's...he's just so upset about Jim's death. Would you like some coffee?"

Dean smiled at the teary-eyed woman. "That would be great."

Mrs. Miller led them through the house and told them to sit in the living room while she got them coffee. Julia and Dean sat on the three-seater couch, leaving room for Mrs. Miller to sit, while Sam sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the coffee table.

Mrs. Miller soon came back with four mugs and a pot of steaming coffee. "It was wonderful of you to stop by," she said, handing Sam a steaming mug. "The support of the church means so much right now."

Julia smiled and opened her mouth to reply but Dean beat her to it.

"Of course," he said indulgently. "After all, we are all God's children."

Julia pressed her lips together as Mrs. Miller awkwardly turned away from them to put the coffee pot back in the kitchen. She turned to Dean with a glare, watching as he hurriedly picked up one of the cocktail sausages from the plate on the table.

Sam scoffed and shook his head at his brother.

"What?"

"You should probably tone it down," Julia whispered, a little tensely. "No one speaks like that."

Dean rolled his eyes at her and dropped the toothpick back onto the platter. It was then that Mrs. Miller came back and sat down on the couch next to Julia.

"So, Mrs. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?" Julia asked gently.

"Nothing like that," Mrs. Miller shook her head, her voice hitching with emotion. "We had our ups and downs like everyone but we were happy..." she broke down into pain-filled cries. "I just don't understand how Jim could do something like this."

Feeling the genuine grief and sadness in Mrs. Miller made Julia's eyes sting. She carefully grabbed the older woman's hand and held it for a second, offering her comfort. "I'm so sorry you had to find him like that."

Mrs. Miller sniffed. "Actually, our son, Max," she gestured into the dining room, where a guy Sam's age was sitting alone in the corner. "he was the one who found him."

"Do you mind if maybe, I go talk to him?" Sam asked Mrs. Miller.

She gave Sam a grateful look. "Oh, thank you, Father."

Sam smiled and stood up, leaving the living room so he could talk to Max. Dean moved to his brother's previous seat so he could face Mrs. Miller head-on and not have to look over Julia's shoulder.

"Mrs. Miller, you have a lovely home," he complimented her as Julia handed her a tissue. "How long have you lived here?"

Mrs. Miller furrowed her eyebrows thoughtfully. "We moved in about five years ago."

Dean nodded. "The only problem with these old houses," he shrugged casually. "I bet you have all kinds of headaches."

"Like what?"

"Well, weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night," he listed for her. "That kind of thing."

"No," Mrs. Miller. "nothing like that. It's been perfect."

"Huh," he hummed. "May I use your restroom?"

"Oh, sure, it's just up the stairs," Mrs. Miller pointed in the direction.

Julia gave Dean a panicked look, as she had never questioned a family member by herself before. He gave her a thumb's up in return when Mrs. Miller wasn't watching, grabbing a cocktail sausage to go.

"So, Mrs. Miller," Julia took over the conversation now that Dean was gone to look for any abnormalities upstairs. "how long were you and Mr. Miller together, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Almost twenty years now," Mrs. Miller dabbed her eyes with the tissue again. "We worked together and we just clicked. We were married in the summer. It was beautiful."

"It sounds like it," Julia agreed. "Michigan summers are the best, aren't they?"

Mrs. Miller nodded.

They continued to speak for a couple of minutes, with Julia prompting Mrs. Miller to answer most of her questions. It was hard sneaking in if Mrs. Miller knew if her husband had any enemies but somehow, Mrs. Miller didn't think she was a freak. She comforted the woman as best as she could.

"I don't know if this will bring you any comfort, but when my mother died, a verse was spoken at her funeral," Julia shared with her; Mrs. Miller smiled weakly. "It's Psalm 73:26. My flesh and my heart may fail but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. It really helped me through the next couple of days."

"Psalm 73:26?" Mrs. Miller checked, making sure she remember it correctly so she could take a look herself.

Julia nodded, her eyes darting to the side when she saw Sam and Dean walk into the living room again. "I will be praying for you, Mrs. Miller," she promised the woman. "and I hope to see you again."

"You too, Miss Stanley," Mrs. Miller stood up with Julia and gave Sam and Dean grateful handshakes. "Thank you for coming, Fathers."

Dean nodded. "God bless you."

Behind Mrs. Miller's back, Sam and Julia shared exasperated looks.

Julia sat at the table back in the motel room, online shopping while finishing up the rest of the salad and fries she had for dinner. Dean and Sam were long done with their eating and now Dean was cleaning their weapons while Sam went through the information surrounding the Miller's house.

Levi and Beth's birthday was only a week away and Julia still hadn't found anything to get Levi. Beth was easy to shop for; she was a typical girl that spoke about her hobbies every time she spoke to someone—just the other day when they had their weekly call, she had mentioned that she'd been baking lately, so Julia got her a couple of cookbooks, a standing mixer, professional baking pans, and a personalized apron. Levi, though, was close-lipped about a lot of the things he enjoyed. He was busy most of the time with PSC as the head of sales but he did make time to work-out, go to church, and visit family.

There was something that Julia remembered about Levi that might lead her to something to get for him. When he was a teenager, she remembered him raving about his science classes. He loved biology and chemistry but his true love was astronomy. He had vacation time coming up—as far as she knew—so maybe a trip to Houston to visit NASA would be nice. That was a great idea and around the same price as Beth's present. She quickly bought the a round-trip ticket from Chicago to Houston and booked the tour of NASA for a day during Levi's vacation.

She popped a couple of fries in her mouth, satisfied; everything was set for the twins' birthday. All she had to do was print out the information for Levi and pick up the presents for Beth.

"What do you have?"

Julia looked up at Dean's question, noticing that he was currently cleaning his beloved saw-off. Something so simple shouldn't have been so attractive.

"A whole lotta nothing," Sam sighed heavily from his spot across the table and stood up to go to the bed they were sharing. "Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built."

"What about the land?" Julia wondered.

Sam plopped down on the bed. "No graveyards, battlefields, tribal lands, or any kind of atrocity on or near the property."

Julia frowned in confusion; then what was the thing that killed Jim Miller?

"Hey, man, I told you," Dean started putting his saw-off back together. "I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfur scent...nada."

"And the family said everything was normal?"

Julia nodded. "Yeah."

"If there was a demon or poltergeist in there somebody would have noticed it," Dean added. "I used the infrared scanner, man, and there was nothing."

Sam sighed heavily. "So, what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sort of freakish coincidence?"

"I dunno," Dean shrugged. "I'm pretty sure there's nothing supernatural about that house."

A grimace flitted across Sam's face as he reached up to rub his temples. "Yeah, well, maybe it has nothing to with the house," he inhaled deeply, in pain, and Julia gave him a worried look. "Maybe it's just—fuck—maybe it's connected to Jim some other way?"

"Sam," Julia stood up to walk over to him. "are you okay?"

"Ah!" Sam cried out as he winched roughly, moving to cup his head and falling to his knees on the floor beside the bed; while Julia crouched down next to him, Dean got off his bed and rushed over, placing himself on Sam's over side. "My head!"

"Sam?" Dean asked frantically as Sam continued to make anguished noises, unable to answer. "Hey, what's going on? Talk to me."

Sam pulled his hands from his eyes and grabbed one of Julia's arms and one of Dean's to steady himself. Julia inhaled softly as she felt his energy twist—it was almost dark, the way it moved through him, clashing with the brightness of his soul. She grew panicked as he stared at them—even though he wasn't really looking at them but through them.

He was seeing something.

"Sam," Julia tried to gain his attention but he couldn't answer. She placed her free hand on his hand that held her arm. "Sam, come on!"

"Sam!" Dean barked.

Sam blinked quickly, his eyes filling with terror. "It's happening again," he told them, squeezing their arms. "Something's gonna kill Roger Miller."

They couldn't save Roger Miller.

They tried to but Roger still thought that they were with the church and he wasn't happy to see them. He went up to his apartment and by the time Sam and Dean climbed the fire escape, Roger's head was chopped off his body with a window.

They were stumped; there was nothing wrong with the house and Dean didn't find anything in Roger's apartment, either. The only thing that connected them—other than the victims being brothers, of course—was that Sam had a vision of both deaths. Figuring that something had attached itself onto the Miller family, they headed back to the Miller house to speak to Max, Jim Miller's son.

"My mom's resting," Max told them as he led them into the living room. "She's pretty wrecked."

"Of course," Dean agreed as he, Julia, and Sam squished themselves into the couch while Max took a chair.

"All these people kept coming with casseroles," Max muttered bitterly. "I finally had to tell them to go away. You know, cause nothing says I'm sorry like a tuna casserole."

Julia smiled at him, trying to hide how uncomfortable the guy made her feel. The energy he gave off, it made a shiver go down her spine. It was dark but it was also familiar. She just couldn't place it.

"So," she pushed away her uneasiness to speak softly . "How are you holding up, Max?"

"Okay," Max shrugged.

"Your dad and your uncle were close?" Sam wondered.

"Yeah, I guess," Max replied. "I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little."

"But not lately much?"

"No, it's not that," he shook his head. "It's just...we used to be neighbors when I was a kid and we lived across town in this house and Uncle Roger lived next door so he was over all the time."

"Right," Sam nodded in understanding. "So, how was it in that house when you were a kid?"

Max hesitated for a second and Julia could feel his energy twisting; anxiety, fear, and relief mixed with the darkness. "Fine," he told them. "Why?"

"All good memories?" Dean prodded. "Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle, maybe?"

Max shook his head nervously. "Why do you—why do you ask?"

Julia's heart dropped at his reaction. He was obviously nervous about Dean's question and the way anxiety and fear seemed to wrap around him so tightly made her think that something bad went on when Max was a kid.

Her eyes stung in realization.

"It's just a question."

"No, there was nothing," Max said after inhaling deeply. "We were totally normal. Happy."

"Good. That's good," there was a sad look in Dean's eyes. "Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off."

"Right," Sam nodded at his brother and then smiled at Max as the three of them stood up. "Thanks."

Max gave them one last smile as he led them out of the house. Julia, Sam, and Dean started walking down to the Impala, where she was parked on the street.

"No one's family is totally normal and happy," Dean grumbled. "Did you see when he was talking about his old house?"

"He sounded scared," Sam nodded.

"He felt scared," Julia admitted; they gave her confused looks. "His energy. At first, it was dark but as soon as Sam asked about the old house, it changed. It was almost all anxiety and fear."

"Yeah," Dean sighed as he opened the driver's door. "Max isn't telling us everything. I say we go find the old neighborhood and find out what life was really like for the Millers."

After Sam hacked into the Millers' records, he found the address of the home they used to live in. It only took twenty minutes to get across town and find the little neighborhood. The houses that Jim and Roger Miller owned were nearly identical, though one was gray and one was mustard-yellow.

Thankfully, they saw that the man who lived across the street was out working in his lawn.

"Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?" Julia asked the man after introducing herself, Dean, and Sam.

"Yeah, almost twenty years," the man confirmed. "Why? Are you looking to buy?"

"No, no," Sam shook his head. "Actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street."

"Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy named Max," Dean held his hand out by his waist, simulating the height of a child.

The man's face fell. "Yeah, I remember them," he said sadly. "The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what's this about? Is that poor kid okay?"

Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, in my life, I've never seen a child treated like that," the man shifted uncomfortably. "I'd heard Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street. He was a mean drunk. He used to beat the tar out of Max—bruises and he broke his arm two times that I know of."

Julia wrinkled her nose sadly. "And this was going on regularly?"

"Practically every day," he nodded; she swallowed down her emotions. "In fact, that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy but the worst part was the stepmother. She'd just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven of eight times but it never did any good."

"Now, you said step-mother?" Dean asked.

"I think his real mother died," the man sighed. "Some sort of accident. A car accident, I think. It—are you okay, there?"

Julia and Dean turned to Sam, seeing that his face was scrunched up in pain and he was holding his head again. Dean grabbed Sam to make sure he didn't fall and started making his way back to the car.

"Sorry about that," Julia apologized to the nice man. "Thank you so much for your time."

The man nodded. "No problem."

By the time Julia got back to the Impala, Sam was in the middle of another vision. Once Julia was buckled in, Dean drove off, back in the direction of the motel they were staying at. Halfway there, Sam's vision ended and he informed them that it was Max that was killing his family and his next victim was Mrs. Miller.

"You sure about this?" Dean asked, briefly looking at him.

"Yeah, I saw him."

"How is he doing it, though?" Julia leaned toward the front seat. "I mean, how did he get away with it?"

"I don't know," Sam shook his head. "but it look like telekinesis."

"What, so he's psychic?" Dean asked in disbelief. "He's a spoon bender?"

"I didn't even realize it but this whole time he was there," Sam sighed, frustrated. "He was outside the garage when his dad died, outside the apartment when his uncle died. These visions, the whole time I wasn't connecting to the Millers. I was connecting to Max," he shook his head. "The thing I don't get is why. I guess because we're so alike?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean wrinkled his brow. "The dude's nothing like you."

"Well, we both have psychic abilities, we both..." Sam trailed off.

"Both what?" Dean gave him a pointed look. "Sam, Max is a monster. He's already killed two people and now he's gunning for a third."

"But look what he's been through," Julia pointed out. She didn't think killing people was the right thing—that should have never been an option for Max—but he was abused almost all of his life. He was afraid of his father and uncle and his stepmother did nothing to stop it. The people who were supposed to protect him were the ones hurting him in the first place.

Dean gave her a shocked look through the rearview mirror.

"Look, I don't think what he did was right," Julia defended herself. "but his family abused him. He wants revenge."

"It doesn't sound insane," Sam agreed.

"Yeah but it doesn't justify murdering your entire family!" Dean argued.

"Dean—"

"He's no different than anything else we've hunted, all right?" Dean turned down the Miller's street and pulled over in front of their house. "We gotta end him."

"We're not going to kill Max," Sam told his brother.

"Then what?" Dean challenged him. "Hand him over to the cops and say, 'Lock him up, officer, he kills with the power of his mind'?"

"No way," Sam shook his head firmly. "Forget it."

Dean turned off the engine. "Sam..."

"Dean, he's a person. We can talk to him," Sam stated. "Hey, promise you'll follow my lead on this one."

Dean paused for a couple of seconds; Julia watched him carefully. "All right, fine," he finally agreed. "but I'm not letting him hurt anybody else."

He leaned over Sam's seat and opened the glove compartment, pulling out the gun he hid inside. They all got out of the car and Dean put the gun in his waistband while they walked up to the door.

They didn't wait to be polite and ring the doorbell. Dean busted through the front door and Julia and Sam quickly filed in, all three of them stopping in their tracks when Max and Mrs. Miller turned to look at them.

"Fathers?" Mrs. Miller asked, bewildered. "Miss Stanley?"

Max looked at them with tired and blank eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, sorry to interrupt," Dean said casually while Julia waved at them.

"Max, can we talk to you outside for just one second?" Sam asked politely.

Max's face instantly turned suspicious. "About what?"

"It's—it's private," Sam faltered. "We wouldn't want to bother your mother with it."

"We won't be long, Mrs. Miller," Julia assured the woman sweetly. "I promise."

Mrs. Miller gave Max a nervous look until Max agreed. "Okay."

"Great."

Max walked over to the door, passing Sam and Julia on his way. When Dean opened the door for him, he paused. The door and all the windows snapped shut at once, leaving the house a little darker and a whole lot scarier.

"You're not priests," Max backed away and declared as Dean drew his gun.

The gun flew out of his hands, into Max's. He turned it around and held it on Julia, Sam, and Dean.

"Max, what's happening?" Mrs. Miller cried nervously.

"Shut up!"

"What are you doing?"

Max simply looked at her and she was airborne, crying out when she slammed her head against the kitchen island and landed in a heap on the floor.

"I said shut up!" Max yelled at her, his face turning crimson red.

"Max, calm down!"

"Who are you?" he looked back to Sam.

"We just wanna talk," Sam assured him.

"Yeah, right," Max scoffed and nodded at the gun. "That's why you brought this!"

Julia breathed in shakily as she read Max's energy. It was so much darker than before. There was so much hate and sadness and fear that it was turning him into a monster. Maybe Dean was right...

"That was a mistake, all right," Sam tried to calm his down. "So was lying about who we were...but no more lying, Max, okay? Just please, hear me out."

"About what?"

"I saw you do it," Sam admitted to him. "I saw you kill your dad and your uncle before it happened?"

Max blinked at him, the gun still aimed toward him. "What?"

"I'm having visions, Max," Sam told him. "About you."

Max shook his head. "You're crazy."

"So, what, you weren't gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?" Sam tapped his left eye. "Right here? Is it that hard to believe, Max? Look at what you can do. Max, I was drawn here, all right? I think I'm here to help you."

Tears started rolling down Max's red cheeks. "No one can help me."

"Let me try," Sam insisted. "We'll just talk, me and you. We'll get Dean, Julia, and Alice out of here—"

"Nuh-uh," Dean interrupted, shaking his head angrily. "No way."

"Sam..." There was no way Julia was going to leave Sam by himself with Max, especially if Dean stayed, too.

The chandelier that hung above Julia and Dean's head started to shake. Julia's eyes immediately went to it, growing wide in fear when she saw that it was about to fall on them.

"Nobody leaves the house!" Max demanded angrily.

"And nobody has to, all right?" Sam quickly placated him. "They'll just...they'll just go upstairs."

"Sam, we're not leaving you alone with him," Dean argued.

"Yes, you are," Sam didn't even look at Dean as he responded, his eyes still on Max. "Look, Max, you're in charge here, all right? We all know that. No one's going to do anything you don't want to do but I'm talking five minutes here, man."

"Sam!"

Max looked at Mrs. Miller before turning back to Sam. "Five minutes," he agreed as the chandelier above Julia and Dean stopped shaking. "Go!"

Julia quickly tapped Dean's arm before rushing into the kitchen to help Mrs. Miller. Dean followed her, taking the brunt of the older woman's body as they got here out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Mrs. Miller directed them into her room, her face soaked with the blood that fell from her cut brow. Dean sat on the bed with her while Julia rummaged around in the master bathroom, looking for a first aid kit. She finally found one in the back of the cupboard behind the sink. It wasn't filled much but it had enough to disinfect the wound and place a bandage on it.

Julia was in the middle of cleaning Mrs. Miller's wound when the door slid open by itself. Max walked through the door, Dean's gun still in his hand, and the door slammed shut behind him. When Dean went to move to defend Mrs. Miller, he was thrown back into the wall behind Julia.

"Max," Mrs. Miller said sadly as Julia scrambled to her feet to stand in front of her when he aimed the gun at her.

"Max, please don't do this," Julia begged him. "We can help you."

Max simply cocked the gun; Julia gulped heavily. Then, she felt a hand grabbed her elbow and forcefully pull her to the side. Dean took her place in front of Mrs. Miller, glaring at Max with hard eyes.

"Stay back," Max ordered him as he dropped his hand and let the gun float in the air. "It's not about you."

Dean shook his head. "You want to kill her, you're gonna have to go through me, first."

"Dean!"

There was no emotion on Max's face. "Okay."

The door burst open and Sam appeared, his face crazed with urgency and panic. "No, don't!" he yelled at Max. "Please, Max, we can help you, all right? But this, what you're doing, it's not the solution. It's not going to fix anything."

Max shook, his face deep red as he cried. He stared at Sam for a long time, desperation and misery in his expression. "You're right."

Sam smiled, relieved that Max was going to listen to him, but it quickly fell when the gun swung in the air to face Max.

"NO!"

The gunshot rippled through the air and the bullet pierced Max's forehead, dropping his body to the ground. Julia stared at his body in shock, her eyes flickering to the massive amount of blood and brain matter on the wall behind it.

"Max attacked me," Mrs. Miller tearfully told a deputy that had come to get her statement about Max's death. "He threatened me with a gun."

The police officer nodded over to Julia, Dean, and Sam, who were standing near her to give her support and make sure she didn't mess up the cover-up they concocted. "And these three?"

"They're family friends," Mrs. Miller's wet eyes trailed over to them. "I called them as soon as Max arrived because I was scared. They tried to stop him; they fought for the gun."

"Where did Max get the gun?"

Mrs. Miller's face crumpled as she started to sob. "I don't know. He showed up with it and..."

"It's all right, Mrs. Miller," the officer tried to comfort her.

"I've lost everyone," she sobbed heavily.

It was clear that the officer didn't know how to comfort a crying woman. He awkwardly turned to Julia, Dean, and Sam, and told them, "We'll give you a call if we have any further questions."

Julia smiled half-heartedly. "Thank you, Officer."

Dean patted Sam's arm while taking Julia's hand to tug them out of the house. "Come on."

As soon as they were walking on the sidewalk down to the Impala parked at the side of the road, Sam started up with his self-deprecation.

"If I'd just said something else," he sighed sadly. "Gotten through to him somehow."

"Don't do that, Sam," Julia took his hand while still holding Dean's with her other. "You did what you could."

"You can't torture yourself," Dean added seriously. "It wouldn't have mattered what you said, Max was too far gone."

Sam shook his head. "When I think about how he looked at me, right before...I should have done something."

"Come on, man, you risked your life," Dean let go of Julia's hand and unlocked Baby, opening the driver's door. "I mean, yeah, maybe if we had gotten there twenty years earlier."

Sam inhaled deeply as he and Julia walked around to their side of the car. "Well, I'll tell you one thing," he said to Dean. "We're lucky we had Dad."

Dean gave him a surprised, but pleased, look. "Well, I never thought I'd hear you say that."

Sam shrugged. "Well, it could have gone a whole other way after Mom. A little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we could have had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay thanks to him."

Dean nodded in agreement. "All things considered."

(Gif is not mine)

#supernatural rewrite #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x original character

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