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icannot3 · 10 months

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"The Sock Rule"

Peter Maximoff x reader

Part 2!

Word count: 2k

Warnings: explicit content at the end.

....................

"We should have a sock rule."

Peter smiled, clunky suitcase in hand. One of many taken from the large moving truck parked out in front of the apartment complex. You hardly had to move any of your own things into the empty flat. He'd already carried the entirety inside within seconds. "What's a sock rule?"

"Ah- ya' know, where if one of us gets some, you throw a sock on the door so that the other knows." He explains the concept so casually. "Pssht, It's like roommates code in a bunch of movies." It was fascinating Peter would say that, considering the only roommate he's ever had in the past was his mother. You'd wondered if he'd ever left a sock on the door for her. You snickered at the thought of her not understanding the concept and looking at it with disgust, thinking he was just piling his dirty laundry everywhere around the house. Except now it was you, his best friend, living with him. "I think you actually have to get laid for that to apply." He snorted at your response. "I get plenty of bitches!" His hand raises for dramatic effect, extending to the side of his head in a swiping motion. Peter's fingers trail through his unmaintained silver locs. "They can't handle my irresistible charm." He brings his arm down and ruffles his metallic-colored jacket with fake finesse. You bend over to tear the tape off of one of the boxes. "You referring to hot women as 'bitches' tells me that you get no bitches." His playful eye roll assured you that there was no harsh sentiment taken. Truthfully, Peter is an attractive man. Both physically and emotionally. Part of you thought about his proposal and worried he may actually bring girls over quite often.

Suddenly, you hear a dramatic shriek followed by Peter hastily grabbing his foot. "Fuck! I stepped on something." He winced, inspecting his injured foot. He'd stepped on a nail, a large one. You'd hurried over, guiding him to one of the stray chairs that had already been moved. "God damn, Peter, we just moved in, and you already need a tetanus shot." You were laughing, trying to make light of the situation. Turning around, you scavenge through the opened boxes and eventually find the bathroom supplies. You pull out rubbing alcohol and some cotton pads.

"How deep is it?" Your voice is laced with underlying concern. Peter chuckles, "That's what she said." You roll your eyes and playfully smack his arm. "We've already discussed that you get no bitches. That's why you live with me." You felt a small pang of remorse after making the comment, wishing the platonic bit of this living agreement was not the case. Carefully, you'd taken the nail out of his shoe, stripping his foot bare. In that moment, you'd realized that nothing said friendzoned more than a man's smelly toes in your face. The odor was slightly pungent, causing your nose to wrinkle at the stench. Peter took note of this, jerking his leg away with insecurity. "I can do it." He leaned forward in opposition, trying to grab the sanitizer from your hands. "Aht, I've got it. Don't worry, I should have expected it with your powers anyways. You've been running all day. " You consoled him, wetting the cotton ball in your hand with the wound cleaner. The laceration was deep and gushing. Peter was constantly getting hurt. Tending to his wounds became practically a tradition between the two of you. He'd leave for missions, sometimes only for a few hours or, on the contrary, you'd wait worried sick for days. Rest assured, you could always count on nursing him back to health after his return. "I'll count down. Five.. Four.. Three," you'd placed the pad down, liquid hell washing the gash. "That was not five seconds!" Peter choked on an exasperated cry, fist clenching tightly. Through his clenched jaw, he meekly smiles your way. From years of experience, you knew he would have jerked away at the final number, knowing what was to come. Despite all of the stress and the severity of his wounds he'd return with, you'd always be glad to tend to them. "Typically, I don't allow a woman to see my feet until the first date."

"Like you'd ever go on a date with me." You scoffed, looking up from your squatting position on the floor below him. Only to meet his unfamiliar serious gaze. "Of course I would." Your face was red hot, and your stomach was folded into a tight knot. Shifting your eyes back to the wound you were attending, your hands dab dry tissue paper to the wetness. "I'm really considering taking you to the E.R. for that shot now." You raised a brow at him quizzically. Swiftly, a bandage encased with secure gauze is wrapped around his foot by your gentle touch. "I really mean it. Any guy would be lucky to have you. They'd have a nurse and a girlfriend in one!" He wiggles his toes, "See? This fine craftsmanship will have me healed in no' time." Just like that, he was carefree and casual once more. You pat his leg twice, beginning to stand. "You should lay down and stay off of that foot today." You smile widely at him, offering your arm for help. He gladly obliged, allowing you to support the weight he couldn't apply to his foot on the way to his room. All of the furniture had already been moved in, courtesy of Peter. His full-sized bed sat in the middle of the small room. You looked at the blank walls, trying to imagine where he would place all of the junk that was in his mother's basement he'd brought. Especially the blocky arcade machine. His nightstand, dresser, and TV already filled half of the area. Peter fell onto his bed, stretching out. "You're the best, really." He propped himself up, scooching over to the other side of the mattress. "You should join me and relax, you've done enough today." He patted the room he'd made for you beside him, motioning you to also lay down. Your face grew heated once more. "I really shouldn't. There's just a few more things I want to get done." In all honestly, you hadn't completed much, Peter was the one who carried most of the boxes in.

"Pleaseeee, come on!" Peter grows more insistent. "This is a day to celebrate no longer living in someone's basement!" He continues to pat the empty part of the bed with more vigor. You let out a dry cackle, "You mean your Mom's basement?" Peter shrugs, "tomatoe, toma'toe." You yourself had lived with someone prior until they'd decided to move in with their respective partner. You finally agreed, flopping down beside him. His bed is surprisingly soft, the thick comforter on top adding a layer of plush. "Well, we should watch a movie or something." Immediately, he was handing you the stack of DVDs that sat on his nightstand. You skimmed through, most were comedies as expected. You opted for the one with Adam Sandler's face on it and stuck it into the DVD player. Laying back down in your spot, Peter inched slightly closer to fit comfortably on the bed. He smelled faintly sweet, as if all of the twinkies in his diet had left behind a permanent aroma. Speaking of, he wasted little to no time in opening a fresh box of the yellow Hostess Snackcakes to satisfy his craving. He tilted the box in your direction, allowing you to indulge in his stash. You reach in and grab one before hitting play.

You felt contempt despite laying in Peter's bed, which is a considerably peturbing situation. Part of you wondered why he was so insistent on you laying with him. Your mind couldn't process the meaning behind what he'd said earlier, claiming he would go out on a date with you. Peter is a simple man. When he says something, he's honest. There's never been a reason to suspect anything behind his words. But when he said that, he had to of meant something else. You regretted brushing it off and not immediately asking for his clarification earlier. There was no way to casually bring it up again. Although, you knew it would eat you alive. Each passing second of you saying nothing would make the next more awkward and undoable. "How does your foot feel?" You finally choke out something to break the tension only you seemed to feel. He looks over with a contempt smile, "I feel great honestly, it doesn't even bother me anymore." His face is noticeably close to yours, but he doesn't move. "When you said earlier that you would date me, what did that mean?" Your heart accelerates, blood rushing to your face.

His face was red, too, which was hopefully a good sign. Peter's eyes looked spaced out, as if he was gathering his thoughts. Slowly, he leaned up and turned his torso to face you. "You're perfect, babe. Any guy in the world couldn't possibly be dumb enough not to see that. I've never met someone so beautiful, both inside and out." His thumbs twirl around each other, and he breaks his eye contact with you. "You just have this irresistible thing about you I can't put into words. Sorry if that all sounds a little weird. You can smack me or somethin' if you want." He laughs through his nose, still looking slightly bashful. It was strange to see him act differently than his typical cocky attitude. You took a shaky inhale, all of your emotions bubbling to the surface. Adrenaline was coursing through your body, making you feel like you're going to explode. "Well, I don't really want any other guys that aren't you in my life." Peter's head leans back against his bedframe, a goofy smile plastered on his expression. "Well, if you wanna ever be more than just roomies, I could definitely make that happen."

You weren't sure how it started, but your body seemed to have worked on some primal instinct. Just seconds later, your lips were on his. Peter wasted no time, pulling you close and practically on top of him. The kisses were long and needy. His hands were trailing up the curve of your spine, strong arms encasing around you. You gasped at the contact, breaking the kiss. "God, you're so smokin'." His deep exhale ghosted over your lips. You laughed, resisting the urge to call him a nerd and kissing him even deeper. Peter turned, flipping you over and beneath him. Your thighs were surrounding his leg, which was deliciously pressing against you. His mouth trailed to your neck, licking the sensitive areas and making you shut your eyes with delight. His hand found yours, fingers lacing together. He was pressing it down beside your head while the other was teasingly playing with the fabric of your shirt, lifting it up at your waist.

His ministrations continued, sloppy kisses being placed down your chest. He was polite and careful not to touch you anywhere he considered too private. The sentiment was sweet. To help him, you took his hand and placed it on your breast, allowing him to feel. His eyes lit up with shock as he looked up at you. "Are you sure?" You nodded avidly, desperate to feel his touch. He squeezed you gently with his palm, reveling in the sensation. "You have no clue how long I've wanted to do this." His other hand reaches up for your free breast, doing the same. You stop him, pulling your shirt off. His jaw drops dramatically. Peter's eyes are far from subtle, looking you up and down hungrily.

"So, who's sock should we use?" He smiles cunningly, giggling at his comment. You smack him with your shirt, rolling your eyes jokingly with a sigh.

"Eh, I don't think my roomate will care."

#peter maximof x reader #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff #x men #fluff #smut #peter maximoff smut?#possible pt2 #evan peters #peter maximoff x reader

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xaykwolf · 3 years

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I wake up every day craving violence, and every day I choose kindness and peace instead

But DAMN if my roommate isn’t pushing the needle over to violence rn

#Xayk Yaps #He's The Most Cis Trans Man I've Ever Met #Two Hours After Assuring My Other Roommate And Me That He'd Move Out If Needed And Assuring Me That Another Shoe Won't Drop #He Fuckin' CHUCKS The Other Shoe Right At My Face #IDC If He's Got A Black Belt I've Got A Composite Softball Bat With Just As Many Years Of Training With It As He's Got In TKD #He's Gonna Be LUCKY If He Decides To Talk To Me And I Respond With Anything Other Than Anger #He'd Honestly Just Better Not Talk To Me For The Rest Of The Day #That's The Long And Short Of It

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chibbybish · 4 years

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Breaking Point (Juice x Reader)

Part 1

TW: bullying

[requested by: @kchavez666]

[word count: 1279]

[reading time: 00:10:13]

New job, same old town, new life.

You weren't a fan of small towns, but cars and motorcycles were always your thing. Also, you really liked California, but being born in a small town you just had to save some money and go live the big city dream you always had.

Your aunt, Gemma, had offered you a job at Teller-Morrow to help you achieve your dream of leaving Charming for good. As a great addition to that, she was married to the president of the motorcycle club, Sons Of Anarchy. That was exciting, and as a young adult, you were, of course, looking forward to see what that's like.

Monday morning, 8:30, you had just arrived at Teller-Morrow. The gates were opened, so you got in, looking for your aunt.

"Half an hour late!" You heard her voice. You saw her coming towards you, smiling, opening her arms to hug you.

"Aunt Gemma!" You sang and hugged her.

"How are you sweetheart?" She asked after hugging you for a few seconds.

"I'm alright. I miss the city." You said, honestly.

"I get it." She smiled. "So, how was college?" She asked afterwards.

"Pretty difficult. But I met a lot of interesting people there!" You answered her question and started walking beside her.

"Any boyfriends?" Your aunt laughed.

"Just one. We dated for a year or so."

-Men, darling. Don't worry about them.

From the distance you saw your cousin Jax running towards you.

"It's y/n! It's y/n!" He beamed and violently hugged you.

"Hi there, dumbass." You hugged him back as he lifted you up. "I missed you so much!" You added.

"Welcome home." Clay came next.

"Hey there, uncle Clay." You smiled politely.

"My god, you are a fully grown woman now, aren't you?" He praised you.

"Aw, that's so nice of you!"

-It's equally nice that you're here to give us a hand with all this paperwork.

-I have been looking forward to it, actually.

-How come?

-Well, you're the president of Sons Of Anarchy uncle Clay!

Clay laughed after what you said.

"Oh so that's why you're excited." Jax laughed.

The three of you, walked towards Gemma's office.

She was already there, taking her jacket and car keys.

"I really do need a break." She exhaled. "It'd be nice if you, men of my life, showed my niece around and tell her what she has to do." She added and kissed your forehead.

"Welcome to the jungle baby. Good luck working with all that testosterone around here." She smiled and left the office.

"See you around aunt Gemma." You said before she got into her car.

"Okay so, paperwork. You note down which cars come in, which cars leave, you take their owners' keys and give them back once the repair over. Jax will explain all the rest." Clay explained. "Whatever you need, don't hesitate to come ask anyone available." He patted your back and left you alone with Jax.

"Want me to show you around, so you can meet the rest of the guys?" Your cousin asked.

"Sounds great." You smiled.

The two of you walked out of Gemma's office and started a small tour around Teller-Morrow.

"Guys, let me introduce to my cousin, y/n!" Jax yelled and a bunch of men gathered around the two of you.

"Y/n, this is Opie, Tig, Chibs, Happy, Bobby, Piney, Half-sack and Juice." Jax started introducing you to all of them, but the last one caught your attention. He had those amazing facial characteristics that were hard to ignore.

"Nice to meet you y/n!" One of them, Tig, said.

"I hope you don't feel uncomfortable with so many men around." Opie laughed.

"Oh, no, it's totally fine. Back in college I had three roommates, all of them were boys." You explained shyly.

"Sounds like someone had a lot of fun in college, huh." Chibs laughed.

"Well, not really." You said, uncomfortable.

Everybody greeted you and got back to work.

That boy, Juice, hadn't talk at all, and now you were curious about him.

"They can be really rude sometimes." Jax patted your back.

"Oh, no. I think they're all really nice." You assured him. You wanted to ask about Juice but decided to wait a little before you made any moves.

The day went by pretty okay and, by the afternoon, you had taken care of a lot of paper work.

"Y/n?" Opie knocked on the office door.

"Yeah?" You lifted your head to look at him.

"If you need a break you can always take one." He smiled. "You've been working non-stop for hours."

-You are right. I probably need a break.

You sighed and stood up, feeling your legs tired and your head sore.

Opie led you inside the clubhouse, where everyone was having their lunch break.

"Hello there!" Jax greeted you and kissed your cheek.

"Someone looks really tired." Chibs noticed.

"Yeah, there was a lot of work that had to be done." You smiled, tiringly.

You noticed Juice was sitting far from everyone else, in a corner.

"What happened to him?" Opie asked Jax.

"Not sure. He was fine this morning." Jax replied, looking at Juice.

Bobby left a plate full of food in front of you.

"There you go, miss." He said.

"I'm starving!" You exclaimed and started eating."Thank you Bobby." You spoke with your mouth full.

You'd still look at Juice randomly, not being able to fully focus on anything else.

After finishing with your lunch, you had the bright idea of talking to him.

You stood up and approached him.

"Hello." You smiled.

"What do you want?" He growled, leaving you speechless.

He seemed quite nervous and bothered.

"I was just wondering why won't you come sit with the rest of us." You question, feeling afraid of his reaction.

"Doesn't matter. I'm done with my break." He stood up and left the clubhouse, without even turning to look at you.

One by one, your little insecurities crawled on your neck, creating a tight knot that gave you a hard time breathing.

What did I do? You asked yourself.

You went back to your sit. None seemed to notice what has happened, instead everyone was loud and drunk, singing songs and talking about this and that.

It felt great being around them, but how Juice treated you was still bothering you. You felt a great weight on your shoulders putting you down.

"Everything okay?" You realised that Chibs was talking to you.

"Of course. I'm just a little tired." You smiled politely, praying that he'd leave you alone, because you already were on the verge of crying.

Little things like people making fun of your t shirt, or talking to you coldly would always make you feel bad.

After a while, Jax offered to give you a ride home. As you were exiting the clubhouse, Juice was going in, causing you two to bump into each other.

"Watch were you're going, for God's sake." He yelled, angrily, after realising what had happened.

"I'm really sorry." You apologized, frightened of his temper.

"I don't need an apology. Just leave." He seethed.

"What's your problem?" You asked, annoyed.

"You are my problem. Get out of my way." He slightly pushed you aside and got into the clubhouse, leaving you speechless once again.

This whole thing reminded you of how much you went through during school.

Boys would treat you like shit, they would point out all your insecurities, causing you to have anxiety and depression from a very young age.

"Ready to leave, y/n?" Jax got out and stood next to you.

"Yeah, sure." You smiled, ignoring all the bad thoughts and memories.

#samcro #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #soa #soa fanfiction #juice x reader #juice imagine #soa juice #juice #juice ortiz

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distrackles · 5 years

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Resistance: Part 1

Dean Winchester x OFC

MASTERLIST

Despise /verb/: feel contempt or a deep repugnance for.

- B o -

This was so normal for us, me and Riley sitting at a bar at the end of a "hard" day. She'll continuously drink while I sit and have a few beers, neither of us ever get a buzz anymore. Bartenders almost without out fail will hit on her, and she'll most likely bring them back to the room we're staying at while I sit in the car, or even at the bar if her fling takes place in the vehicle itself. I never get mad and she always offers me a free pass the next morning to do the same to her one day, but I don't use it.

"Are you sure you're cool with this?" She asks me, as the guy she's been hitting on grabs his coat.

I nod. "Riley, honestly I don't care, it's your car anyway, try and text me if he turns out to be into anything weird. " She rolls her eyes, and downs her last drink.

"You want me to let you know just so you can get some of that, I know you're into some weird shit." Laughing, she stands up, as my middle finger shoots up. I mean anyone can enjoy a little weird, but I'm not gonna be fuel to her flame. She heads out with the guy and I pretend to busy myself reading the label on the full bottle of beer in front of me. I usually do this until the bartender asks me if I'm alright, and then when I nod he gives me another bottle. This time I'm doing it because the guy on a stool away from me is glancing not so discretely at me every few seconds, and I don't feel like talking to anyone tonight.

"If you're gonna pretend to read that at least move your eyes a little." The guy says and my eyes flick up before I turn my head to look at him, familiar. "It would make it a little more believable."

" Maybe you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't staring so hard. " I bite back and he smiles. My hand is wet from condensation on the bottle, it's lost its chill as I drink from it. Thinking this man is gonna stop talking to me and just move on to annoy someone else was the first mistake I made. The second was when I actually acknowledged the fact that he had now moved to the stool where Riley was sitting.

"Is she your sister?" He asks, I roll my eyes. "I'm Dean, by the way." Dean Winchester, I think, of course he is. My silence gives him a moment to take another drink from his glass before he licks his lips.

"Hm, I expected Dean Winchester to be a little," I look him over for emphasis. "More intimidating." And then I smile slightly. His smirk made it obvious he wasn't the least bit offended by that, taking it more as a game.

"Should I know you?" Are his next words and I shake my head because it isn't likely, me and Riley keep to ourselves. Then again, he's a Winchester.

"Bo Shoemaker." And then I mentally curse myself because when the hell do I ever give my real last name. It's like that one rule totally left my mind. Dean's face seems to recognize it and he's just processing it, almost as if he'd be embarrassed if he said anything wrong.

"Shoemaker, as in-"

"Yeah, exactly." I cut in because I don't wanna hear his name out loud.

"So that girl, Riley Duncan I'm guessing?" I nod at that. "Bobby always says me and my brother-"

"That we're just like you and Sam, yeah I know and it's ridiculous." Once again he's cut off. "Look I should go, we gotta head out early tomorrow and it's my turn to drive." Liar.

Before Dean can say anything else I stand up, leave money, and walk out before conversation can go any further. I have no clue where I'm gonna go but honestly anything is better than having to discuss personal life. The spot our car was in is now empty, looking around at the last three cars left in the lot shows just how late it is. I scuff my boots against the pavement as I take short walks across the small area I'm given. My hands are shoved into my jacket pockets, and my breath fogs up the air in front of me. It's fucking freezing out here and I'm the coward that walked out just so I didn't have to face the truth. Dean wasn't innocent, but his curiosity was and all I had to do was say I didn't want to talk about it, of course he would have understood. I sit down on the curb of the sidewalk in front of the building, knowing Riley, I would be here a while.

His keys jingle as he approaches my side , and his booted feet crunch against some leaves when he steps off the curb to sit on it.

"I don't really want to talk about it. " I mumble, picking at the thread in my jeans. Dean doesn't say anything for a while, he only extends his legs in front of him.

"Yeah I get it, you need a ride anywhere?" He asks, looking at me.

"How long have they been gone?" I question, considering that it felt like ages since Riley had left me. Dean simply just shows me his wrist and the watch tells me it's been about an hour of me sitting out here.

"Yeah, the motel down the road." I answer his question and stand up at the same time as him. I can tell which car is gonna be his but I still wait for him to make the first move towards it before getting in the passenger side. We take the short drive to the motel, I thank him for the ride and get out as soon as I can.

"Hey, " I look back at him as he stands in the open doorway of his car. "What're you two in town for anyway."

"Not gonna let you steal our hunt Winchester." I smirk towards him and keep walking to our room. Giving the door a few knocks just to be safe, and hearing only the TV playing some ridiculously fake action film gives me the clear to go inside. Riley is on her bed, staring blankly at the screen. When she sees me the TV gets turned off, and her eyes close, she had been waiting for me to come back before she could comfortably fall asleep. The blankets are extremely thin, and my old shirt and shorts don't do much justice for any extra warmth. My eyes close, but I never fall asleep, as always.

The next morning we were up early, much to Riley's protest, in our smartest clothes, as we speak to some of the victim's family and friends. The guy's sister and roommate didn't have much information for us when I looked at the notes I took. I look up for just a second to acknowledge the waitress before looking back at my papers, the lady sets the plates down, it's mostly Riley's food anyway.

"Come on, take a break." She says with her mouth already full of pancake.

"We're missing so much yet I feel like it's right in front of our face." Dropping my pen, I replace it with my coffee mug and drink the rest of it.

" We'll figure it out." She assures and when I finally give her a real look her eyes are pointed in a direction outside. I turn my gaze to match hers and see her focus is on the Winchesters. I knew this would happen, I just had hoped I was wrong. What else would practically the most well known hunters be doing in a small town like this.

"Damn it, they're gonna take our hunt. " I groan.

"They can try, we were here first and I bet you got more of a lead anyway. " I go to argue because I know of Sam's records, and he's good at what he does when it comes to research, but Riley's chugging a cup of coffee and walking out the door before I can speak. Leaving a bit of money on the table and rushing to pack all my things up, I follow after her.

"Listen, what we had was great last night but that doesn't mean you can follow me." Is Riley's opening line towards Sam when I get out there, Dean laughs and Sam half smiles shaking his head. They're probably coming from where we just were based on the suits they're in. I finally reach her side and fix the strap of my bag on my shoulder. The boys look at me for a second before looking back at Riley who isn't done talking yet.

"This hunt is ours so don't even think about meddling in on us. "

"Hey, what's wrong with a little help?" Dean says with that smirk I already despise.

"We don't need help." I snap back at him. But then I get confused when Riley doesn't back me up.

"Bo, we could use some help, you said yourself that you didn't have enough, they might have what we're missing" She speaks quietly to me and I'm pissed because she's absolutely right and I still don't want their help.

"We're heading back to where we're staying, you guys can come with us and we'll see if we can piece anything together." Sam offers, the quiet conversation Riley was having with my ear probably wasn't too secret being we're only a few feet away.

"Yeah that's good, Sam come with me." And with that me and Dean are left standing there as Sam and Riley get in her car and drive off to the place. Dean goes to the passenger side of his car and opens the door for me, my eyebrows rise and he just shrugs. I get in the car with a huff and he shuts the door before getting in the drivers side and starting her up. The car ride is similar to last nights with no talking until we get to the motel they've been staying at.

The rest of the day and the late hours of the night are spent with me and Sam "geeking out" together, as Riley called it. Her and Dean just sat back and looked up anything we asked for. After all of us had gone through our fifth round of coffee Riley had called it a night and went to our room and an hour after that Sam headed to bed. I packed up my things roughly just to transport them to our room so I could continue working.

"Goodnight." Dean says when I try to leave without saying anything to him. I hardly glance over my shoulder and give a slight nod and a mumble before slipping out of the room and into ours.

"Bo, I don't see why it's so important to you that we do this on our own." Riley complains as I am trying to convince her to leave before we can meet up with the boys. Call me selfish, but I am feeling pretty confident that we have all the information we need after last night with Sam. Instead of answering her, I just start throwing her clothes that somehow managed to explode out of her bag within a night. I hear her groan and then go into the bathroom to get her other things. I slip out of the motel room to go load up the car with our duffel bags. Just as I shut the back car door, I look up to see Dean looking right back at me. What the hell? Why was he always around.

"What?" I ask, the question comes out a little more snarky than I intended. At first I had thought that I would get off easy when he just simply shook his head.

"Well, I definitely was comparing you more to Sam this whole time, but you and me seem to have some things in common too." He says with a sort of surprised tone. I roll my eyes, because the last thing I want is to be compared to Dean Winchester.

" I prefer to work alone too, just me and Sam." He finishes. I nod and decide to end this conversation as soon as I can.

"You should understand that it isn't personal then?" He nods at my comment this time. "Anyways, let's face it, we'll most likely cross paths again won't we? Hopefully it'll be a while" Dean laughs at that and heads back into his room. Riley comes out shortly after and we get in her car and head off to undergo the action of this hunt.

#dean winchester #sam winchester #hunters #supernatural #dean x ofc #sam x ofc #sam winchester imagine #dean winchester imagine #crystal reed #kaya scodelario

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freedom-shamrock · 6 years

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Taste of Freedom

Also on AO3. This is a Hugdrien story and direct follow up to “Settled In”, though it can stand on its own. It is also the @adrinetteapril April 15 prompt, heartache.

For the first time in her entire secondary school career, Marinette had no trouble getting ready for school on time. It helped that her boyfriend and superhero partner was now her roommate, and that he was definitely a morning person. It also helped that he offered sweet rewards, like kisses and neck nuzzles, along with his nudges to keep her moving.

"Have a great morning, kids," her papa called, waving as they picked up a small bag on their way out the door. "See you at lunch."

"Bye, Dad," Adrien replied, positively beaming. He hadn't taken up residence with them for even 24 hours yet, and he already looked so much happier. "Have a fantastic morning."

Marinette ignored the wide-eyed looks of their customers, many of whom were long term and knew she was an only child, and most of whom recognized him as Adrien Agreste. She caught his hand and tugged him out of the bakery. At this rate, the gossip rags would have them married by lunch, but she didn't really care that much. His joy was infectious, and she smiled at him as they started down the sidewalk.

"I like seeing you like this," she said. "It might even be nicer than hugging you."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "To be clear, you aren't planning on withholding hugs just because I'm happy, right?"

"Of course not," she insisted with a laugh. "I'd never do that to you."

"I know, and I'm grateful," he replied, going completely serious.

And she was back to wanting to suit up to plant her first in his father's face. "Unlike the poorly-blended buttercream that you commonly call 'father,' I am not an abusive fuck."

His eyes went wide.

"I'm honestly horrified that you think it's okay or even necessary to thank me for not being manipulative." She held up a hand when it seemed like he was about to interrupt. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault you were conditioned by a loaf of moldy supermarket bread to expect abusive treatment." She sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't realize earlier how bad it was for you."

"It's not your fault, Princess." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I didn't really realize it, either." He shrugged. "And since we're on the subject of my delightful father."

She rolled her eyes and bit back the commentary that wanted to come out.

"I'm meeting with him after school." He pulled on her hand when his words made her freeze in the middle of an intersection. "Not at the mansion, because I don't want to have to physically fight anyone to get back out."

"You think he'd…" she stopped herself, shaking her head. Of course Gabriel would try to use force to keep his son under his control. "When and where, and should I be there?"

"Right after school." His smirk was very Chat Noir in nature. "With two months until Final Bac, he tried to pull me out of school once he realized I'd really moved out. Or rather, once Nathalie told him. But I'm eighteen, so Mr. Damocles contacted me to see if this was what I really wanted. With a very brief summary of the situation, he was willing to let us borrow his office."

"Wow." She smiled. "Score one for Mr. Owl."

"Yeah. It's honestly the most neutral spot we could meet." He looked down at his feet. "I think you shouldn't be there, just because that would give my father a target other than me, and the minute he blames you, I might kick his stupid teeth in."

"Oh." She stared at him, surprised. It was a really good reason. "Uh. Can I wait for you in the library?"

"I'd love that, actually."

Marinette was on her feet and out of her chair the moment Adrien opened the library door. Shoving her sketchbook into her bag, she jogged over to him before he'd gone more than three steps. His arms were slipping around her waist, pulling her to him before any words were spoken, which was unusual for him. Even after being assured that hugs were available anytime without a request, he tended to ask or announce his plans to hug her. She felt a faint tremble in his hands where they rested on her back.

She pulled his head down to her shoulder, pushing her fingers into his hair. She wanted to ask what happened, but it was obviously bad, probably even worse than he'd expected, and really, she didn't need to know right now.

"Can we go home?" he asked, his voice small.

"Yeah." She tightened her arms around him. "You want to go the regular way, or the fast way."

"Fast, please," he mumbled.

She stepped back, and he let her. She took his hand and hauled him to one of her favorite on campus places to transform. It was even easier since school was over, and the only students they had to watch out for were staying after for clubs or studying. In less than five minutes, they were dropping into her… their bedroom through the skylight, transforming as they hit the bed.

"What do you need?" she asked. "You don't have to tell me what happened or even how you're feeling, just let me know what I can do to help you."

"Can we snuggle?"

She hated hearing him so meek. She flopped onto her back and held out her arms. "Come here Kitty. Ooph." He'd sprawled mostly on top of her, burrowing his face into her neck. She settled herself in for a long session of comforting him, one hand on his back and the other in his hair.

After several minutes, he broke the silence. "I don't know why I let him do this to me. I give him power he doesn't deserve over me."

"It's hard to break a pattern after several years," she said. "Even if you can look at it and logically recognize something isn't right, emotions don't work like that."

"It makes me feel stupid," he grumbled.

"You aren't stupid, but it's okay to feel that way." She sighed. "Should I ask what happened or would you rather not talk about it?"

"He's just such a jerk," he blurted, one of his hands finding the skin of her arm to draw random designs with his fingertips. "He didn't think I'd actually move out."

"Not a surprise, there," Marinette said. Gabriel's reaction after Adrien announced he was leaving, had not sounded like a man who believed his son.

"And he thought he could threaten me into going back." He moved to rest his head on one hand, but kept his eyes on the mindless motion of his fingers. "No bribery, and certainly no apologies. Not even empty promises that neither of us believe anymore."

"Ugh." She couldn't quite keep it in at this point. "How on earth did you spend the last five years raised by that separated ganache emulsion, and end up so kind and caring?" His lips twitched briefly into a faint smile, reinforcing her use of food-based insults. She shook her head. "Do we need to do anything to prepare to deal with his threats?"

Adrien snorted. " He thinks he can blackball me from modeling, cut off my income and ability to support myself, but he's going to be disappointed on that front." He smirked. "The day before I moved, I spent a lot of time contacting other agencies and fashion houses in Paris, and it turns out Gabriel Agreste has made plenty of enemies with that charming personality of his."

"Oh my," Marinette whispered in delight.

"Enough of them are eager to poach the Agreste heir, that they aren't going to push for long term contracts with non-compete clauses, leaving me free to model what I want." He looked pleased for a moment, then it gradually faded. "He didn't mention you, but I get the feeling this won't be the last I hear from him. I'm worried he'll try to hurt your career next." His warm green eyes filled with tears. "And I know, rationally, that none of this is my fault, but it's like you said. And I can't help but wonder why my own father doesn't love me."

Marinette reached up to catch his tears with her thumbs.

"And the things he said…" He took an abrupt breath. "He wants to hurt me, ruin me so I come crawling back to him. I expected the anger, but that…" he gulped. "It was worse than even I imagined he could be capable of."

Seeing him so hurt, made her feel like crying, and she had to swallow the frog in her throat before she could speak. "Think you'll be up for a war council tomorrow? I think you'll feel better if we have contingencies."

"War council?" His tear-stained puzzled look was positively heartbreaking.

She nodded. "Mama, Papa, Alya, Nino, and Chloe. They love you too, and we're going to help you move past this so you can regularly be the happy guy you were this morning."

Next in series > No More Lumpy Custard

#Miraculous Ladybug #fanfic #my writing #adrinetteapril2018 #Hugdrien #Adrienette

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emachinescat · 3 years

Text

This is part of an ongoing series of vignettes where Mac is crashing in Loft 4D. This collection of stories is going to eventually be a part of a larger series of crossovers where characters from different fandoms crash at the loft for a short time. (Nick calls them "crashers.") These stories take place right after the Sandbox for MacGyver, and a few months before Jess moves in for New Girl. :)

Title: Moments with Mac: The Coach | Series: The Tenants of Loft 4D | Fandoms: MacGyver & New Girl

Summary: Mac and Coach have a conversation about their mutual, overprotective friend, Jack, and the army, all while trying their best not to completely succumb to the awkwardness of their situation.

Characters: Mac, Coach, Jack is a major point of discussion, Winston is also mentioned

Words: 1,021

TW: Light references to PTSD

AO3 Tags: Crossover, Humor, Friendship, Pre-Season/Series 01, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Loft Antics

Full chapter here or on AO3!

"So," said Coach.

"So..." agreed Mac.

It had been decided by the other two that it was going to be Coach's job to "take care of" Mac while he was there. Nick and Schmidt claimed no responsibility whatsoever for showing him to his room, putting themselves into any avoidable awkward conversations, giving him a tour of the loft, or - and Nick was very insistent about this - letting him know where the towels and washcloths lived. "It's just not right," he'd insisted, "a strange man using another man's towels. I want no part in it. It's an abomination." Coach had known there was no use in arguing the point, but he had anyway, and it had gotten him absolutely nowhere.

So now here he was, standing in their extra bedroom with a tiny little white dude he didn't know at all at the request of a scary family friend who he barely knew. At least he could take a little comfort in the fact that Mac seemed just as awkward as Coach himself did.

"Okay so-"

"Look man-"

They both started talking at the exact same time. Mac ducked his head and grinned and motioned for Coach to go first.

"I was just going to apologize for Nick. He can be…"

"Loud?" Mac supplied when Coach hesitated.

"And he has no filter. Obviously."

Mac laughed, and it sounded genuine. Coach found himself thinking that maybe this kid might not be too much of a hassle to have around after all. He seemed pretty easy going, especially for someone who'd just gotten out of the army. But still, there was something in his eyes, a flicker of something he'd seen in his dad's eyes a couple of times as a kid… He pushed that aside as Mac rebutted, "I spend most of my time with Jack, remember? You look up 'loud' and 'no filter' in the dictionary, and you'll find a picture of Jack!"

Sniggering, Coach agreed, "I don't know him that well, but I do think I remember that about him from when he and my dad cooked out every other weekend back in Texas. I think that's what Dad likes about him. He speaks his mind."

"Sometimes too much," Mac agreed. Coach noticed with relief that picking on Jack and Nick had lessened the tension in the room considerably.

"Hey, uh, Coach?" Mac asked, his voice turning serious. "Speaking of Jack, I just wanted to thank you for what you're doing. He had no right to ask you to let me stay with you; he did it without me even knowing about it. I tried to back out when he told me, but he insisted that you all were looking for someone to help pay rent while your normal roommate is in Latvia."

"Yeah, you'd like Winston," said Coach, then made a face and retracted, "Eeeh, maybe not. Not a lot of people like Winston. He's an acquired taste."

"I'm sure he's great."

More awkward silence.

"Well," said Coach. "I should go, 'cuz this is getting awkward as hell and I've got a training session with a hot client." His eyes glazed over momentarily. "Vanessa."

Mac cleared his throat. Coach shook himself out of his reverie before backing slowly toward the door. "On that note, I'ma bounce now…"

Mac watched him go, amusement and uncertainty warring for dominance in his mind. They seemed nice enough… if a bit - a lot - weird, but still. Mac knew that nightmares were no respecter of people or places; they would come wherever he was, and they were usually much worse after moving to a new place. He sure hoped this job Jack had picked up on was worth it, because Mac had the nasty feeling that he'd wear out his welcome (whatever welcome he had, that is) very quickly once the nightmares started up again.

He sighed and started to unpack his things.

"One more thing!" Mac jolted in surprise, spinning around and grabbing the closest thing to his right hand to use as a weapon - an alarm clock. Coach's eyes widened, his hands held up in surrender. "Sorry, sorry, dude. Didn't mean to startle you there." His eyes held a softness that Mac hadn't expected as he regarded the younger man. "You okay?"

Mac felt the embarrassment wash down his body like an icy rain. He felt his face burn and set the alarm clock gently on the side table. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I just-"

"Hey, say no more, man," Coach cut in. "Army brat, remember? This ain't my first rodeo." Despite Coach sounding nothing like Jack in the slightest, his words reminded Mac of exactly something his best friend would say and he gave a half smile.

"Thanks." Coach stood in the doorway, and awkward was still the word of the hour.

"Uhh… did you need something?"

"Oh, right. I forgot I was supposed to remind you of the loft rules. Don't touch the fancy shampoo in the shower, the half a pastrami sandwich in the fridge is off-limits, even if it is a week old, make sure you buy your own towels because sharing towels with a stranger is an abomination, apparently."

Mac nodded slowly. "...Noted."

"The first rule is Schmidt's," Coach clarified, fingers tapping nervously on the doorframe. He wasn't good at this hosting stuff, especially when everything was so.. Awkward. "And the last is Nick's. The second is mine."

"Good to know. I'll make sure to follow them."

Coach grinned. "Right. The pastrami sandwich is mine," he clarified once more. "And I'm really looking forward to it when I get home."

Furrowing his brow, Mac assured the taller man, "I promise, I have no intention of eating your week-old pastrami sandwich. Scout's honor."

Of course he'd be a boy scout, Coach thought. "Thanks, little man!" Coach threw over his shoulder as he turned to leave once more. "Welcome to the Loft!"

Running a hand through his hair, Mac half-grinned and spoke to the empty room. "Thanks." Recalling his roller coaster of an adventure just since breaching the doorway, he added a wry, "I think."

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