#benny is still a wet rag

[grease-weasel]

putting him in a cannon and sending him into orbit

#benny is still a wet rag #benny gecko my beloved #fallout #fallout fanart #!! greasel posting !! #my art #fallout new vegas #fallout nv #fnv art #fnv benny #benny gecko fanart #benny fnv #benny gecko

[luveline]

if you want, maybe roan is just like doodling around and stuff yk and she draws a typical like family pic but eddie notices that beside the both of them there’s another messily drawn figure and it’s the reader :( <3

HELL yeh ty baby ♡ fem!reader

Eddie's a good dad. Fuck anyone who thinks otherwise, he's good at this shit, and if Roan wants to go get burgers every Friday he's gonna take her. His daughter deserves the world.

Including greasy, messy quarter pounders from Benny's diner.

"What's that one?" Eddie asks, pointing over Roan's half eaten plate with his pinky finger at her drawing, the table between them covered in crayons from her open pencil case.

"This? This'a doggy," she says, like it's obvious and he's the worst.

"I knew that," — he did not know that — "I meant want kind of doggy."

"Oh. That's our dal-dalm-damnation!"

Eddie grins at the idea of a dalmatian named damnation. Fucking sweet. "Dalmatian, babe." He wipes his fingers in a napkin so he can lean over and pick sesame seeds out of her hair and off of her little sweater. "I thought you wanted a St. Bernard. The rescue dogs with the medicine around their neck, you remember?"

She points at the dalmatian's side where she's drawn a cross in red crayon. "He is a rescue dog."

Eddie hums appreciatively and picks up his burger again. But the time he's finished Roan has moved onto a clean page. She sits there tap tap tapping her crayon against the corner.

"What do I draw?" she asks.

Eddie grabs his napkin. "You didn't give me a look at the first one!" he exclaims, stacking her plate on top of his.

Roan struggles. Her sketchbook is a simple plain workbook from Bradley's with thin paper, but the size of it is still heavy in her small hands. She turns back to the page she'd just been decorating and brandishes it against her chest proudly.

"Holy sugar, that's awesome," he praises, and means it. "Is that Princess Peony?"

"The damnation is saving her," Roan says.

"I can see that."

He reaches under the table for his backpack. Inside, he carries around all the bare essentials necessary for successful kid outings — spare clothes, Teddy the pink bear with one ear, a hair brush, hair ties, her rain mac. And, the most important thing, wet wipes.

"Alright, c'mere. Let me wipe that face."

Despite contrary instruction, Eddie walks around to sit on her side of the booth. He does hands first, then crayons caught in the crossfire, then her face. She hates it, but when she was a baby she loathed it. He takes her scowl as an improvement.

"Why don't you draw... Maybe, a new family portrait? We can put it on the fridge like the first one. You can even include your damnation, if you like."

"He isn't real, dad."

"Just draw what's real, then. Can I trust you while I go get drinks?"

She makes a haughty little face that he takes for an eye roll and leaves to get drinks, though he's not really leaving. He's about ten feet away from her at all times and he keeps his eye on her.

He only looks away for what can't be ten seconds, and she's gone. His heart skips as his eyes scour the diner.

"Dad?"

Eddie flinches, his coke tipping over the side and down his hand. "Oh, sh- sugar," he says, kissing his fingers dry. "Babe, you scared me."

Roan stands at his knee with her drawing in hand. She wields it up at him insistently.

"That's for me? Swap?" he asks, offering her a small glass of juice.

Roan takes the juice in one hand. Eddie quickly takes her drawing so she can use both hands, watching the pride as she shuffles carefully back to the table. She doesn't spill a drop.

Eddie shakes out the drawing and sips his coke. The edges are ragged along the top where she's torn it free.

Front and centre is Roan. She's drawn herself with big long eyelashes and a full head of curls, total dad-win, in a huge cloud of pink he assumes is her very best princess dress. To her left is Eddie, same head of curls, long lashes amiss but a huge smile on his face, and to Eddie's left is Wayne. He looks especially dapper, a coffee mug in hand.

It's a great likeness.

And then there's you.

Your hair, your favourite shirt. Roan has drawn you with lovely eyes and a heart next to your smile, messy but so obviously you.

He beams like a fool as he sits down next to her again. She's already turned to a new page in her blook.

"Roan, this is amazing. And... That's Y/N."

"Duh," she says.

"Duh," he repeats, dumbfounded.

He wonders what he's supposed to say here. Telling her you aren't part of their family wouldn't be true. Telling her you are might set a precedent you aren't ready for. He worries it over for a while and takes despondent swings of coke, listening to Roan scribbling furiously beside him.

"Done!"

Eddie looks down. He gawks.

"Baby, is that..."

She points with her crayon enthusiastically. "Tada!"

"It's a castle," Eddie says carefully.

"That's where a princess gets married."

"And that's..."

"That's Y/N!"

There you are. Smiling, a bouquet of blue, red and yellow flowers on bright green stalks in hand. A prince stands beside you in a suit with a bright red scribble across his chest like a sash. The prince also has long, curly hair.

"Where are you?" he asks.

Roan points at a purple blob with black hair in the background. "I'm the flower girl."

Eddie throws his arm over her small shoulders and drops a firm, smacking kiss against her round cheek. "That's where you're wrong, bub. You'd be right next to me, my best girl."

She giggles infectiously at him, his words and breath tickling her face.

"Dad, don't be stupid. It's s'posed to be a man with you."

"Make an exception? Just this once it can be a girl. Pretty please?"

She smiles at him. It's a much older expression than she should have, like she's entertaining his fantasy, like he's the kid. "Okay, dad. I will be the best girl."

Later, when he tells you the story, you get super indignant. His stomach turns to a pit as he worries he's overstepped, but you say, "How is that fair? I want her to be my best girl."

"Maid of honour."

"What's the difference? You got her all this time completely by yourself, and you're not gonna share her on our wedding day?" Your voice drifts off as you dissapear into the bathroom, though he can hear you muttering, "Ridiculous."

He hides his electric blush with a pillow over his face. When you return, you climb half on his chest and force the pillow away to dot spearmint kisses against his pinked cheeks.

-

more eddie and roan (and reader!)

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader #dad!eddie munson #eddie and roan #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic

[basilone]

can i request... demarco, and scrub or flash please <3

Oooo yes you can! 💙 I'm always up for writing Benny, he's great fun. (Applying a small warning here regarding a war-typical slang term for the Germans, and a slightly bigger warning for descriptions of Meatball having been a skosh under the weather.)

scrub / flash

He’d have been a whole lot madder about this if Buck had looked right as rain.

“Jesus,” he says instead, whistling low through his teeth once he gets a proper look at Buck’s face. “You lose a fight with a big glass door or something?”

Buck’s grimace makes the small splinters of glass sparkle in the light. “Or something,” he agrees. There’s dried blood on his cheeks, where the worst of the splinters still resides. “Crashed into someone’s kitchen. Straight through the window. Had enough sense to shield my eyes, but…”

“Not enough sense to avoid the window, huh.”

“Would like to see you try.”

“I got into a standoff with a couple o’ sheep,” says Benny, feeling at least a little bit defensive about his own dire circumstances here. “One of them stomped on my nuts and it went downhill from there. Fuckin’ Jerries found me by the sound of my squeaking. That shit hurts, Buck. More ways than one.”

Benny’s somewhat pleased to see the flash of deep amusement in Buck’s eyes. Knows there will be jokes about sheep somewhere in the distant future, mentioned when Benny least expects them to be. He can almost see Buck filing it away for future reference even now, though the man’s prolonged grimace makes it hard to tell how many jokes Benny will be subjected to.

“Want me to try and take the glass out?” he asks, already fishing around in his pocket for a cleaner cloth than the bloodstained one Buck’s holding. “That’s fucking unsanitary, you know. Leaving it in like that.”

“They had other priorities.” A slightly ragged huff of breath escapes the man seated in front of him. The glass shards tremble along with the breath. “Like finding out more about that B-17 shipment.”

“You too, huh.”

“Originality is not their strong suit.”

Benny chuckles at that. “They don’t have strong stomachs, either,” he says conversationally while he plucks the biggest shard of glass out of Buck’s cheek. “Mine was eating while questioning me. I made him regret it.” He snorts out a laugh as he wets the cloth in the nearby mug of water. “He was fishing for anything about the base, so I told him I was real fucking worried about Meatball.”

“Jesus, Benny.”

“Hey, not my fault that my dog woke me up with the most explosive case of diarrhea yesterday morning. Like I was tellin’ Investigator Jerry out there,” says Benny, jerking his head at the window, “damn dog crapped all over the bed and over half of me. Whining something fierce about it, too, making more noise than should be legal before dawn. So I said to the guy questioning me, Meatball’s got me all worried like that, like do dogs even get the flu? So I told him how it all smelled and looked, ya know, to get a second opinion?” He sucks in a breath as Buck’s motion almost makes the cut on his face worse. Swats at him with the cloth. “Hold still, there, I didn’t get–”

“Tell me you didn’t just spend the whole of interrogation,” laughs Buck, shoulders shaking slightly, “talking about the damn dog being sick, Ben!”

“I did,” he nods sagely. “We got real deep into it once I managed to explain that I’d had to take three increasingly colder showers to get rid of the stink. He looked real queasy about it. Stopped eating by the time I talked about the fact that Meatball started to sick up once he was done shitting everywhere,” says Benny, grabbing hold of Buck’s chin just to minimize the effect of the man’s laughter on Operation Glass Removal. “So I asked Jerry if he was done with his food, because it smelled real nice after all Meatball put me through, and I reached out to move his tray over to me so I could eat, you know? And that’s when he just cracked, Buck. Never had anyone remove me from their office faster, and I’m countin’ the time Harding asked me about that morning when I got back to base real late.”

“You outdid yourself here.” Buck winces as Benny’s fingers press down on his cheek to get a stubborn piece of glass out. “You were always the best of us at interrogation training.”

Benny shudders a little to himself. “Only because nobody’s scarier than my Nonna.” He eyes Buck critically. “I know you didn’t give them shit, either.”

“Name. Rank. Serial number. Enigmatic smile.”

“Putting Mona Lisa to shame there. Think they’ll try again?”

Buck damn near chuckles at that. “With you? I want to be in that room when they do.”

“Watch and learn, buddy.” Benny grins as he plucks the last shard out of Buck’s hairline. “There. You’re all set for some nice scars.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m real good to you like that. But Buck”– he says, sobering up fast, feeling the lingering knot of frustration tighten in his belly –“the next time I tell you to scrub the flight, we scrub.”

Buck scrapes his throat. “Won’t be a next time, Benny.” He nods at the bunk beds, the scratchy blankets, the uncomfortable everything of being completely trapped. “Look where we are.”

“Next war, then,” he replies, leaning back against his chair in a bid to get comfortable. Tries to ignore the fact that they’re stuck here. That they’re not gonna fly again any time soon. “Somewhere warmer than here. Sunnier. I wanna get real tan, Buck. Africa, maybe.”

“Next war.” A nod. The ghost of a smile flashing up at him from underneath the wet, bloodied cloth. “Sure, Benny, we’ll go to Africa.”

He exhales loudly. Feels the knot in his belly finally loosen, too. “That’d be an honor, sir.”

Buck’s eyes are calm. His hand barely trembles as he holds it out for Benny to shake. “Honor’s all mine, Ben.”

#masters of the air #bernard demarco #gale cleven #basilonefic

[nobody7102]

Bella I honestly have no idea what kind of bait I'm using in the pond but the fish are biting a little more than they usually do this afternoon (lol).

So I have this headcannon that Miles's mom, Kathy Miller, was a nurse for a long time and that was how she had met Otis (because Otis had gotten an injury doing something really stupid with the other pit crew members on the racing circuit in the summer of 1941 and they've been married for 28+ years as a result).

Kathy joins her husband, son and daughter-in-law (reader) at the hotel and can't believe how well Miles is doing since having been overseas, even though every now and again he still has a few terrors here and there. The hotel is doing amazing, Otis is permanently stationed in California, Miles is married to the reader and Otis soon informs her that in a few days there's gonna be a new addition to the family (who in this case is Benny).

There's a drenching rainstorm at the hotel, Miles and wifey are asleep.......and then it happens. Wifey wakes up and for a second she's like, "wait....why are the sheets wet?" and then it hits her. She wakes up Miles, he's exhausted and groggy. Wifey's like "you ready to be a daddy?". Miles goes completely wide eyed and can't believe it.

He goes and grabs his mom and Kathy basically tells him that everybody's gonna have to stay put since the rain is bad and there's no way they'd be able to make it to the hospital in the next town over. Kathy runs her daughter in law a warm bath and Miles stays next to her the whole entire time, even through what is seemingly the worst. Wifey's like "baby I'm so sorry you have to see this", to which Miles answers with a laugh, "(y/n) I've seen people get blown up in the middle of a jungle and then limp back to camp with a missing arm or a leg......this doesn't phase me in the least."

It's not long before Benny is finally born and he is SO FRIGGIN TINY!!!! He's even got his daddy's full head of hair too!! Miles was terrified that he was born early but Kathy tells him he's perfectly fine and will probably hit a growth spurt when he's a year old.

As soon as all is said and done with wifey safe and back in bed with Miles next to her and Benny wrapped in his little blue baby blanket, wifey asks Miles if he wants to hold Benny. He's a little bit shaky, but once Benny is in his arms, his eyes open and he looks straight up at Miles, a quiet little "oh" catching in his throat as he gazes down at the life you two just created. A small cry comes out of Benny when he sneezes and Miles is half crying, half laughing as he holds his son against his chest, lying on his back next to wifey as the three of them are beginning to fall asleep. Kathy and Otis, unbeknownst to them, are peering in the door and look at each other with a look of "we did good and so did they" on their faces.

I am so sorry this is so long, there was alot to get through (lol)

AAWWWWWWWWWW!!!! MY BRAIN CANT FUNCTION THATS SO CUTE! (Idk if it’s bc in like partially hungover or the fact that I wanna have a family so bad)

I know we don’t really get to see Miles arms but he was in the army so he’s buff to a point so TIMY BENNY IN MILES ARMS, I’m screaming!!

I fully believe that for the next few weeks, you and Miles just break out in tears every once and a while because Benny is so small and perfect and you look at each other like “how the fuck did we make that?!”

You know Otis and Kathy are taking all of the polaroid pictures for the next few weeks. Photos of y’all sleeping together, baby’s first bath, a random picture of miles making a face at how bad a diaper was, and one of Kathy’s personal favorite. A photo of you and Miles napping on the couch with burp rags thrown over your shoulders.

#miles miller imagine #miles miller x reader #miles miller bad times at the el royale #miles miller #bad times at the el royale x reader #bad times at the el royale #lewis pullman bad times at the el royale #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman x reader #lewis pullman

[kirnet]

For once, Raiden was silent.

Benny thanked her god for that small miracle and wrung out the washcloth in her hands. She was sure that if Raiden saw how pointedly she was staring at his chest he would have turned it into something promiscuous. But now, with painkillers and exhaustion settled deep in his veins, he said nothing as she eyed the gnarled flesh above his heart. The shrapnel had missed it by mere centimeters, Nahuel had said after the surgery, the crew huddled in a supply closet to prevent anyone at the hospital from recognizing them from their bounty photos. 

A miracle, he had said.

A miracle that she would be sure to convey her gratitude for later.

Raiden lowered himself deeper into the basin, the soapy water lapping at his midriff. Benny could feel the heavy weight of his gaze as he watched her face, but he stayed blissfully quiet as she meticulously washed his abdomen. Years of scars rose and fell under her fingertips, each their own testimony of survival. 

“What’s that from?” Raiden asked softly when he finally caught her eye. He swung his arm ungracefully out of the tub with a wince, water dripping to the floor. 

“This?” Benny followed Raiden’s trembling finger. It was pointed at a jagged scar along her thigh, her own outer clothes shed to avoid getting them wet. Gently, she took Raiden’s arm in her hands and eased it back down to the side of the tub. “A training session from when I was ten, I believe. The Maelstroms do not hold back, even for initiates.” 

Raiden nodded, his eyes growing glassy for a moment before they focused again. “And this one?”

“The quicker I finish this, the quicker you can get some rest,” Benny chided. Raiden tilted his head in response, armed with an easy smile. “Broken Hope,” she eventually mumbled as his wet finger poked at a scar along the width of her inner arm. “A spear found its way through my armor.”

The sound of dripping water echoed through the medbay as Raiden hummed in acknowledgment. Benny didn’t resist as his hands circled her forearms in a weak grip. He tugged her arm forward until he could lean forward and press his lips to the scar. 

Benny sighed as she eased out of his grip, an uncomfortable heat spreading through her limbs. “Why are you like this?”

“Hey, you got me naked. I’m just setting the mood.” The sentence was punctuated with a devilish wink. 

An unimpressed groan tore from Benny’s throat. “Sit up straight. I need to reach your back.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Even the humor in Raiden’s voice couldn’t mask the pained grunt he let out as he eased himself forward. Benny frowned, one hand placed securely on his side to keep him steady. She could still feel his blood staining her hands as she dragged him away from the explosion, eyes wild and breath ragged as the shrapnel wormed its way deeper into his chest with every movement.

“I need to tell you,” he had gasped, blood filling his mouth as he pawed at her wrists. “I need to tell you-”

“Ben?” 

Benny snapped back to reality, her hands still submerged in the basin. She brought the washcloth to his shoulder blade. “Yes, Raiden?”

His muscles shifted under her hands. “You’re not just doing this because you feel responsible, are you?”

Water dripped back into the basin.

“Ben-” Raiden cut off with a hiss as he tried to turn. Benny’s hands flew out immediately to steady him, but he kept shifting until she moved over to the front of the basin. “Ben, a fuel tank exploded. I got hit with shrapnel. Simple as that.” He allowed himself an imperceptible shrug, but he had that feverish glint in his eyes as he stared at her.

“I am the one with the shield.” She was a shield, a defender and protector. She was forged, same as any Themi, trained to give her life at a moment’s notice. And she knew that Raiden understood that; it was the very core of their relationship. “I am meant to take those blows.”

Raiden scoffed, an ugly sound. “Ben, you can’t carry the blame for everything.”

Oh, but she could. What else did being the Chosen mean? Either the fate of every soul in the galaxy rested on her shoulders or she was a fraud. Either she succeeded at defending her crew or she failed. How could she save every soul if she could not save this one?

Themi worshipped death. Why was she suddenly afraid of it?

“Maybe I am bathing you because you are my friend,” she answered instead, wash cloth tight in her fist. The affection she had for him was no lie, even if it was removed from layers of uncertainties.

“Good,” Raiden nodded, voice suddenly strong. He leaned back, teeth gritted to hold back the groan. “That’s a good reason.”

Silence like the void outside overtook them, and Benny got back to washing Raiden’s marred skin. She hadn’t noticed how much he had tensed while they spoke, but he gradually melted under her touch, any apprehension floating away with the bubbles. “Do you think I could get a shoulder massage when you’re done?” Raiden yawned as Benny carded shampoo through his thick hair. “They’re really sore.”

“Electricity and bath water,” Benny mumbled, just loud enough for Raiden to hear. “What a combination.”

Raiden laughed, though he had the decency cringe at the thought. “Ok, ok. I can take a hint. Though I can’t get out of here by myself.”

As Raiden’s pruney fingers cling to the back of her neck, as she easily lifted him from the tub, water running down her front, Benny thought about the spear that pierced her skin. She thought about a gas tanker wreathed in flames as she sat him in a chair and delicately dried his body. She thought about her blood-stained palms as she slid his pants on.

But when Raiden caught her hand and placed a clumsy kiss on the back of it, she could only think about him.

#not proofread baby!!!! i just have a benny/raiden disease #this takes place uuuhhh late act 2 maybe. also peep that amara is not there oop #my writing #actium #benny/raiden #benita #raiden mare #bennys got like ISSUES man. so does raiden but hes insecure abt it and thinks that shell hate her if she sees the ugly side of him when like #shes already totally aware of it lol

[the-purity-pen]

One Temptation

Pairing: Benny Miller x Will Miller x Santiago Garcia x Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

gif is not my own. credit to the creator [ if you know who made this, please tell me so i can credit them, thanks! ]

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY!) Warnings: Sex Pollen, Group sex, Double Penetration, Unprotected PIV (please be safe irl), cum eating, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), Anal, Shower sex, let me know if i missed anything! Word Count: 5,818 Notes: This has been in the works for MONTHS at this point and I finally feel okay releasing it to the hellsite. It’s filthy, it’s probably not perfectly canon but I love these boys and this was such an adventure to write. Please let me know what you think!

You were nervous as hell to walk into the conference room. The first day on any job is nerve wracking but even after a few weeks, you found yourself feeling like the outsider still. It wasn’t anyone’s direct fault, per say. Just a feeling you had from being the new one on the team.

The team you had been assigned to was a tight knit one. The four of them having been through all kinds of combat and missions together. Their previous team leader had gone off the rails and was forced to retire early. 

Your debriefing hadn't gone into a lot of details but the remaining men on the team seemed friendly enough. Benny and Will Miller, the brothers were such polar opposites that their interactions were always entertaining. And Frankie Morales seemed like a pretty sensible one, a lovable man with a mean streak when needed. 

And then there was Santiago Garcia. The man was generally more observant but when he spoke, he attracted the attention of an entire room. His personality was electric in a way. The way his scruff would sound as his hand ran over his jaw, deep in thought at whatever mission was being described as one that the team would be taking.

A new drug lord was suspected in Miami, carting drugs from Colombia and Bolivia. The trail had led to many dead ends but there was one loose end that your new team would be able to solve. A nightclub had been staked out and found to be smuggling drugs through some warehouse-like door in the basement. There wasn’t enough to get full intel and they needed a team to infiltrate and go undercover to gain more information.

Part of the plan was to have you, of course, dress up and play flirty with some of the bouncers and bodyguards of the club. You were extremely nervous and it apparently showed through because as much you knew these guys were good, you couldn’t help but feel like trusting them with an assignment like this was a big ask.

When the assigning officer heard your concerns, he offered up a serotonin-inducing serum. It was new on the market but was studied to have helped with team building. At least that’s what he told you. After having a short conversation with the team, you agree to all take the serum.

After taking the sticky sweet green drink, you were informed that it could take a full 24 hours for the full effect to take place. "Why don't we throw a party?" Benny chimed in with the boyish grin plastered on his face.

You stifled a laugh and shook your head. "I'm not exactly the party type," you admitted as your eyes scanned from Benny to Santi who spoke up next.

"What about just a night of beers and cheesy movies?" he offered to which all heads started nodding. "My place. Tomorrow night. Eight o clock," he added after the consensus was made.

***********

Walking up to Santiago's door had your heart thundering so loud in your ears, you were sure you wouldn't be able to hear him when he greeted you. Your hands twisted around the case of beers, hoping you had picked the right kind. You knew how these military types were picky about their booze.

"Hey! You made it!" Santi exclaimed as he opened the door and let you walk in. Your eyes took in the small apartment and noticed that you were the first to arrive.

"Am I early?" You turned around to face him as he closed the door. He shook his head with a chuckle as he moved closer to take the case of beer from you and move it to the fridge.

"Nah, they're just always late. Good choice by the way," he mentioned as he held up the case and nodded to it just before placing it in the fridge. Your arms weakly rubbed at each other, crossed over your chest.

When Santi turned back towards you, he chuckled. "You can take your jacket off, you know. I mean if you plan on staying," he cracked which made you smile. After your jacket slipped off and was placed on the back of a nearby chair, Santi held an open beer out to you.

"Thanks," you told him softly before there were more knocks on the door. The other three piled in, Will followed by Benny with Frankie bringing up the rear. Benny was already slurring and jolly, Will was just shaking his head at his brother as he greeted you. Frankie came up, adjusting the ball cap that he always seemed to wear and said hello.

***********

"Truth or Dare!" Benny cried out when a suggestion pool had started of what they should play.

Handfuls of beers had been consumed by this point and you were starting to feel more comfortable. It was also becoming apparent as you watched each of them how attractive they really were in this laid back setting.

The entire group groaned but Benny pushed forward on the couch so his elbows were on his knees. Santi had actually been oddly quiet, chewing on his lower lip as he was watching you interact.

"Alright Pope. You first," Benny held up a hand loosely gesturing at the man sitting across from him. Santi rolled his eyes and shook his head but grinned at the same time.

Will tapped Benny on the shoulder and whispered some idea into his brother's head that apparently made Benny very excited. "Ooh! Ooh! Okay okay," Benny adjusted his shoulders, shooting you a quick glance before looking back to Santi.

"Have you ever thought about-" 

"I didn't even choose which one asshole!" Santi replied with a loud laugh. Seeing his smile that wide was uncommon and you felt a small knot form in your chest at it but you stifled a snort in response.

Frankie and Will also broke out into laughter as Benny conceded. "Alright alright fine. Choose, motherfucker," he narrowed his eyes at Santi before cracking a grin himself.

"Truth cuz I'm too old and lazy to do any stupid stunts you could come up," Santi chided at his brother in arms before taking a long swig of his beer, one of the bottles of the kind that you had brought.

Benny rubbed his hands together like he was concocting some evil plan. "Alright then back to what I was asking before you so -rudely- interrupted. Have you," he paused to glance over at you, his gaze unashamedly running over your body, making you curl into yourself a bit more on the big armchair you were seated in. "Ever thought about fucking her?" He nodded his head in your direction when his gaze came back to Santi.

Your heart was back to racing in your chest as you turned your attention to Santi. Without missing a beat, Santi answered. "Abso-fucking-lutely."

You were ninety percent sure that you stopped breathing. Your eyes blinked only out of automation as your mouth became a small o shape. Your entire body felt like it was heating up in the few moments that passed.

Santi then looked at you and your entire body felt ablaze again. "Uh, what? What did I just say?" Santi seemed to have come-to from a small spell he was under. Your gaze was so focused on his face you didn't see the way the other three shifted in their seats or the way that Frankie palmed himself lightly to adjust his growing erection at the thought.

"Y-you…" Words were hard to come by and your face felt like fire and your heartbeat whooshed into your ears. Your chest heaved lightly at the sudden panting you seemed to be doing.

"Well fuck me!" Benny cried out as he laughed nervously. Will punched his brother in the arm and that's when your eyes shifted to the rest of the guys, noticing that their gazes were locked on you. It was as if you held some sort of magical answer to a question you didn't have any clue of.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you cleared your throat and took a nervous sip of your beer. There was only a drop. You huffed nervously. "Oh, look, I need another beer," you quickly and quietly said before pushing up out of the chair and practically running over to the kitchen.

You could hear their low murmurs, chattering amongst themselves as you rinsed the empty bottle in the sink. Your hands were a shaking mess as thoughts swirled in your mind. You squeezed your eyes shut for a second before bending to grab another beer from the fridge.

A presence against your backside made you gasp. Hands came to your hips as you slowly stood up, swallowing the large lump that had formed in your throat. You tried to clear it as you closed the fridge but the presence behind you kept their grip on your hips.

Your nose finally picked up the scent of the cologne. Santi. He leaned forward, pressing his chest to your back as one finger came up to trace a line down your neck. Instinctively your head rolled to the other side to open for his soft touch.

Your breathing was ragged and you immediately mewled when his lips took over for his hand against your neck. "I want you hermosa," his voice grumbled against your skin and you immediately felt weak. Your hands tried to focus on the beer bottle but you were slipping into euphoria.

"Santi," you heard Benny's voice come from across the kitchen. Both you and Santi turned to see all three of them moving closer. "We all want her," Benny admitted and you saw the way his tongue peeked out between his lips to wet then as his eyes seared into you.

"Guys." Your voice was weak and shaky. "I- I can't do this. It's-" your words were cut off by Santi's lips attaching to your neck again and the bottle you held was slammed down onto the counter as you gripped the edge to steady yourself.

One of his hands worked around to the front of your blouse and tugged at the buttons. You could feel the weight of him pressing against your ass and your entire body buzzed with lust. That familiar heat was starting to grow in the pit of your stomach and you knew the booze was partially to blame.

But only partially.

When your eyes fluttered open as Santi slowed his assault on your neck, you saw Benny standing so much closer. "Seriously," he said, his hand coming up to let a finger trace along your collarbone. "We want you," he told you in an uncharacteristically quiet voice before leaning in to capture your lips.

You moaned quietly against his lips, having not been kissed in far too long. You finally pushed against him and he pulled away from the kiss. "Seriously," you sloppily repeated back his words as you scooted to the side out of Santi's grasp.

A piece of paper was on the island counter that caught your attention. The red lettering at the bottom looked familiar. Your curiosity piqued and you moved closer to pick up the paper to read it.

Known side effects include but are not limited to: sudden panting, decreased morality judgement, increased appetite, increased sexual desire and libido…

You blinked as Santi rounded the corner of the counter to you. "Fuck," you muttered quietly to yourself as you noticed his movements and came around the other side to only be greeted by Frankie, who's tanned skin on his cheeks was flushing slightly.

"Did anyone read this?!" You asked, panicked and looked at all of them one by one.

"What is it?" Benny asked, not fully caring what it was.

You moved closer to Frankie to hold it up. His eyes tried hard to focus on the words as he took the paper from you. "It's the fucking side effects to the serum, man," Frankie spoke aloud as he too paused at the one about sexual desire. "Shit," he muttered as a hand came down to his crotch to adjust himself.

"Well what are they?" Benny asked impatiently as he eyed you walking across the floor to the living room. Santi moved over to Frankie to take the paper and read it over. Will was watching you along with his brother as your hips swayed as you paced the living room floor.

"Fuckin' increased sexual desire? What the shit is that? Why would they give this to us?!" Santi yelled but realized that all eyes were on you as you breathed heavily. Your arms were crossed over your chest and one hand was at your lips, tugging at them, trying everything in your power to keep yourself distracted from looking over at your team.

“Hey,” Santi called your name with furrowed brows. “You alright?” he questioned as he moved closer. Your mind was reeling but your body was convulsing with need, with want. It felt like a fire had been lit from deep within your belly and no amount of pacing or trying to think straight was going to smother it.

Santi’s hand on your shoulder made you jump, too wrapped up in your own body and thoughts to notice how close he had gotten. He was standing directly in front of you and your eyes were darting around his features. Your nose flaring with each pant of a breath you tried to take. His own eyes were trying to take in every movement of your face to see what was going on but he was far too distracted by the parting of your lips.

“Santi.” His name came out as a breathless whimper as you looked at him. Within a moment his hand was on the back of your head and his lips were pressing hungrily into yours.

You heard movement in the kitchen and into the living room but Santi’s lips had moved to your neck and all thoughts were gone. The burn in your body was glowing brighter, threatening to combust when he bit down on the conjunction of your neck and shoulder.

Suddenly another pair of hands were groping at the globes of your ass through your jeans. A groan in your ear that wasn’t Santi had your eyes fluttering. One of your hands was holding the back of Santi’s head, scratching his scalp lightly. Your other hand dipped behind your back and down, groping at what you found to be a very hard cock in someone’s jeans.

Benny’s groan came clear into your ears. “God, you’re so hot,” he muttered which made you release a small shuddering breath. Benny pressed against your back, his hands roaming over your body wherever Santi’s wasn’t.

Your body was already feeling on fire, like every touch was electric. The way Benny’s lips moved over the shell of your ear as Santi worked your clothes off. You were turned into Benny’s arms. He chuckled as he looked down at your wrecked face. “You look absolutely amazing,” he cooed softly, something you didn’t know he was capable of.

Your head turned as Benny kissed along your neck and you saw Will standing with his pants pulled down to his knees and cock in hand. You swallowed thickly as Santi kissed up your thighs and over your mound, his fingers tracing lines up your legs.

“Fuck I need to taste you,” Santi mumured as he pushed your hips a bit wider. You groaned and leaned back against Benny who held you up and slid his hands up under your shirt to grope at your breasts. You turned to see Will still stroking himself quietly at the sight before him. Watching you become totally undone was intoxicating.

Another pair of hands were on your body, taking over groping your breasts as Benny pulled your shirt up over your head. You could barely register that you were completely nude in front of your team as Santi’s tongue ran over your folds, groaning at the taste. When his lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, the third pair of hands were gently caressing and rolling your nipples.

A blinding hot streak ran through your body, straight down to your toes. The way Santi licked into you causing your thighs to tremble. You managed to look down just in time to see Frankie’s head kissing at the swell of your breast.

The more their hands were on you, the faster their movements became, the needier they seemed. The burning ache in your body only seemed to grow as Benny gently guided you backward until you fell onto his lap. At some point he had released his erection. Santi crawled to try to reattach his lips to your core but Benny was quicker and slipped himself into your soaking folds with barely any hesitation.

You cried out as Benny filled you and started to thrust up into you, his hips snapping against your ass. Santi groaned. “Benny you fuckin’ cabron,” Santi muttered and Benny just chuckled in your ear as he nibbled on it. 

“Babygirl, what feels better, Santi’s mouth or my cock? Hm?” Benny asked as his eyes bore into Santi who glared at him but palmed his own length anyways. Frankie moved closer and tried to kiss the other side of your face.

Your mouth was flopping like a fish and you couldn’t create enough saliva to speak. Instead you whined as Santi kissed at the inside of your knee, his hand more furious on his cock now. Will was standing close by, just watching everything but focusing on how wrecked your face was as his brother pounded into you.

Frankie was gentle but groaning against your skin as he tried to capture your mouth into a heated kiss. You kissed him wantonly, your moans filling his mouth and he greedily swallowed every sound. “Hermosa, please take my cock,” Frankie moaned into your mouth and without opening your eyes you nodded.

Benny continued to thrust up into you in haste as Frankie climbed over the arm of the couch and stood so that he could line his cock up. He ran it along your bottom lip, soaking him in your saliva and waiting for you to open before thrusting into you tentatively. You swallowed around him and he groaned at the sensation of your warmth around him.

Benny kept at you, thrusting harder and faster until you were crying out around Frankie’s cock. Frankie and Benny released their loads into you at the same time and you were close to your own but Benny softened and you lost the peak that was building.

You whined and Santi slapped Benny’s thigh. “Let me at her,” he said while standing up. Benny gently lifted you off of him and you whined at the loss of contact. You let go of Frankie’s cock with your mouth after you had cleaned him of all of his cum. He leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, licking into your mouth slowly and groaning at the taste of himself before he was helping you lie down on the couch. Frankie moved himself off the couch as Santi moved to hover over you and plunged his cock right into you.

Your back arched off the couch as you reached up and grabbed at Santi’s shoulders. “Fuck!” you cried out as Santi fucked into you with reckless abandon. You were soaked between your arousal and Benny’s cum and it made Santi twitch hard as he fucked you mercilessly into the couch. The girth of him stretched you differently than Benny had and you mewled and moaned at the sensations, letting Santi’s name fall from your lips like a chant.

“Please! I need to cum!” you screamed as a burning heat grew in the pit of your stomach and threatened to overtake your entire body. Your begging encouraged Santi as the other three looked on. Benny was already hard and leaking again and when your eyes met his, his hand stroked so hard he came all over the floor with a loud moan. Santi leaned over and bit at your collarbone, causing you to cry out as you clenched down around him, hard.

Your entire body was writhing and pulsating as you came harder than you had in a long time around Santi. That put him over the edge and with a few more solid, hard thrusts into you, he stilled and pushed further into you to spill into you. Within moments you felt the dripping between your thighs and you moaned quietly.

Santi leaned down to capture your moan and his lips slid against yours as he thrusted carefully into you, the burn in his body already growing again. “Pope c’mon man,” Frankie said quietly as he moved to pull Santi off of you. “Gotta give someone else a turn,” Frankie patted Santi’s shoulder firmly as you tried to catch your breath. Santi leaned down for another soft kiss before pulling slowly out of you.

Your body jolted at the sudden loss and both men stopped to stare. “Fuck,” Frankie muttered, causing both Benny and Will to move around to see their view. The cum was dripping steadily from your still fluttering cunt and every pair of eyes was mesmerized by the sight.

“Baby you are making a mess,” Santi said, wanting to lean in and clean you up but you put your hand out as a gesture for all of them to give you a minute. Your breath finally calmed down enough for you to be able to respond.

“I…. did…. nothing,” you panted and chuckled but the laugh made the cum dribble out of you even more and you moaned quietly at the sensation of two of your teammates cum dripping from you. Will’s nose twitched as his hand continued to slowly work his cock. The burn inside him was growing but he was a patient man. Always had been.

You lifted your head to look at them and gave a weak smile. They all looked at you with lust-blown eyes but Santi and Frankie were the ones to give you a smile back. “You okay?” Santi asked, his hand gently grazing your ankle in a caressing motion.

You nodded and looked at him. “Yeah. I think. For now,” you chuckled but soon felt your body heat up again. It was a dull ache but you tried to sit up to quelch it. Santi and Frankie both reached out for your arms to help you sit up. “I think maybe I should go shower,” you mentioned and they both nodded before standing up. Their cocks were at eye level for a moment and you felt your mouth water and wanting them both in your mouth at the same time.

They helped you up and your legs definitely felt like jello. You nearly crumbled and Santi and Frankie looked at each other with worry then looked at you as they tried to hold you up. “I got her,” a stoic low voice came from beside you as Will moved closer. He leaned over and wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up with ease.

You giggled quietly but having his warm body pressed against your was making the fire within you grow again. You tucked your head into his neck and breathed in his scent. You couldn’t help the way your lips pouted and you kissed gently along the skin of his neck. He groaned low in his throat.

“Sweetheart, please,” his voice pleaded before he was in the hall and pressing your back up against the wall slowly. His hands grabbed at you to hold you better as his hips pressed into you.

“Will, please,” you whimpered when his teeth found the side of your neck and sank in. You felt the way he growled against your skin and the fire was spreading wildly through your veins again.

Will grunted as he pulled himself back just enough to stroke as his cock and line himself up. With a slow and steady push, he impaled you and filled you. The girth of him stretched you but the slight sting of pain gave way to even more pleasure as he started to thrust.

Each thrust earned him a soft moan from your lips and he couldn’t help but kiss you. His hands were pawing at your chest, twisting your nipples and he watched as your face contorted in pleasure and you cried out against him. “Fuck! Please! Harder!” you begged and didn’t care who heard you. Besides, it was high time it was Will’s turn. The man was the quiet type, strong and sturdy but with his lack of talking in many of the group settings, you weren’t sure of his opinion of you.

But as he pistoned in and out of him, faster and harder with each snap of his hips up into you, you were pretty sure you knew where he stood in his opinion on you. “Fuck, so tight,” he muttered against your lips as he kissed you bruisingly. A clash of teeth and tongues and lips. It was messy and needy but you wanted more.

Will grabbed at your back, his large hands splayed over your now hot skin as he pulled you away from the wall. He stood in the middle of the hall, his shoulders pulled back as his hands snuck down to try holding you under your legs. You held him around the neck until he had a good hold of you again and it was then that he rocked your world even harder.

He fucked up into you with a relentless pace, hitting that spot within you with ease, his cock moving along the shared juices of yours, his brother’s and Santi’s. But all he could focus on was how wrecked your face looked. Your jaw was slack, seemingly permanently so, your eyes rolling back as your head lolled back in pleasure.

Wanton cries were ripped from your chest as he grunted and held you up. Suddenly you felt a second pair of hands come to your ass and massage the flesh. A scratchy beard appeared at your back as sloppy kisses were given to the skin there. “Que linda,” Santi’s voice came in a growl as he watched you get fucked by Will.

“Santi,” you said breathlessly and Will fucked you harder to get your focus back on him. He captured your lips in a heavy kiss, one that forced your mouth into an “o” shape around his tongue as he greedily licked into you.

Santi was busy watching Will’s cock pump in and out of you, his hands still massaging at your ass. His thumb rimmed the hole of tight muscle, moving with each movement that Will was forcing on your body and you moaned a bit louder. Santi looked up at you. “Do you want to be filled, querida?” he asked and he waited until you nodded.

When you did, you mewled as his thumb pressed against the tight hole, slipping one knuckle in. You cried out even at the small intrusion, the way even just that little motion filled you even more. “More!” you cried out and you heard both men curse under their breaths.

Will fucked you relentlessly still as Santi pulled his thumb out, to which you whined in protest, just so he could spit all over his hand. He used his free hand to try to spread your ass cheeks a bit. “Will, man, stop for a second,” Santi commanded and Will obeyed, holding you down onto his cock.

Santi moved one finger into you and you couldn’t help the pained groan that came from you. “Good?” Santi checked in and when you nodded and bit your lip, he started moving his finger within you. He looked over your shoulder at Will and nodded and Will resumed moving.

You choked out a sound as your entire lower body started to clench up. “Oh, she’s close,” Santi praised, his smirk so evident just in the tone of his voice. He leaned down and bit at the soft flesh of your ass at the same that Will leaned into to bite at your collarbone. The dual biting did you in.

You cried out as they fucked you through your orgasm, both sets of muscles clenching down around them. Your lower stomach fluttered and your chest heaved as your mouth lay open in a pant, your eyes screwed shut. Will was close behind and fucked you through your high until he reached his own. When he pushed up into you, stilled with a groan, Santi stopped moving too.

You finally caught your breath and felt yourself come back to reality. Your body was spent, completely but also completely sated. Will carefully pulled you off of his softening cock and the moment your feet hit the ground, all you could feel was all of their cum slipping down your thighs.

Santi moved with you both and released his hand from you and saw you dripping. “Fuck, you’re a mess,” he muttered in a groan. You nodded, your arms still wrapped around Will’s shoulders. Will grunted and wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you to your tiptoes so he could walk you back towards the bathroom.

Once in the room, Will and Santi worked together to strip you down, one moving and the other acting as your balancing stabilizer. Your eyes were heavy and your body felt like it was made of jello as you attempted coherent thoughts. You were naked, in a room with two men who you found extremely attractive. One of whom was leading you into the shower that had at some point been turned on.

“You got it?” Will asked softly as his hand lingered on your lower back as you held yourself up with your arm against the shower wall. You nodded slowly, your head feeling heavy. You let the warmth of the water just cascade over your back and tried to let it soothe you.

You tried to let your mind relax but there was a burning ache that felt it was far off in the distance. You could hear Santi and Will talking quietly but the roar of your heart in your ears combined with the water rushing over you made them also seem far away.

As you slowly started to wash up, your soapy hand brushing over your very sensitive clit, you yelped as a bright flame lit within you. “Fuck!”

Will and Santi immediately rushed up and opened the curtain to see you rubbing at your clit furiously. “What is it?! Are you okay?!” Santi asked in a hurried, worried tone.

“I need - fuck! - I need,” you whined as you squeezed your breast with your other soapy hand and felt your nipple immediately stiffen. Will was first to step into the shower behind you. His large hands came over your breasts as he held you against him.

“What do you need? Tell me. We’re here,” he spoke lowly in your ear, nibbling at the flesh as Santi pulled the curtain a bit on the opposite side to watch. 

“I need to cum!” you screamed as one of Will’s hands came down behind you and his thick fingers ran through your folds. The fire within you was burning brighter by the second and it was almost painful.

“How do you want to cum? On my fingers or my cock?” Will asked and Santi chewed his lip as he watched you writhe against Will.

“Your face. I need your tongue on me. Now!” With your command, Will turned you and dropped to his knees without hesitation. Santi reached out and put his arm up behind your back so you wouldn’t fall.

Will shoved his face against your cunt, licked a broad stripe through your folds before his mouth closed over your clit. You whined out and Santi quickly slipped himself into the shower behind you. His hands wrapped around your breasts and tweaked your nipples. Your head fell back against his shoulder as the warm water cascaded over your chest and stomach.

Your hips moved against Will’s face as his mouth attached to your clit, his tongue licking and flicking as if you were a hard candy. His hands remained on your hips and he used just his tongue to work you up and within a minute there was a gush coming from you and spilling all over his face.

Santi peeked over your shoulder. “Holy shit baby. You just soaked him and not from the shower water,” Santi told you and turned to kiss your cheek. He was oddly proud and smirked against your wet skin as he whispered more praises into your ear, letting your body come back.

Will stood up and let his face get wet from the shower before he held onto your hips and kissed your chest softly, letting the water run down his face. He stood up and wiped the water off with one hand before looking at your blissed out face. “Are you back?” he asked and when you nodded slowly, both men looked at each other and chuckled. “Are you good? Like do you need more or-?”

You shook your head with a blissed out smile on your face. “I think it’s gone,” you told him and you felt Santi kiss along your cheek and down to your neck. “Though if you keep doing that Santi, I might not ever want you to stop,” you laughed weakly and moved your head to the side to allow him more room.

“Who says I want to stop querida?” he mumbled against your skin and you hummed contentedly. Will took the opportunity to actually wash your body with soft, gentle touches. He washed his own face then looked at you and Santi together and felt a new kind of pull in his chest.

“We could do this again… right?” Will asked softly and both you and Santi opened your eyes and straightened up to look at him. You chewed your lower lip and your head turned to look between the two men as the shower continuously rained down on all of you.

When you didn’t speak, mostly from not being able to find the words, Santi spoke instead. “Yeah man. I mean, if she’s down for it, then I’m down for it. I like you Will, you know that. And you,” he turned to lean in to kiss your cheek again. “I don’t think I could get enough of you now that I’ve had you,” he told you and nuzzled into your neck as his arms wrapped around you again. Will stepped forward and wrapped his arms around both your and Santi’s shoulders together and the three of you sat like that until the water ran cold.

#fic: one temptation #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier smut #triple frontier x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #benny miller #benny miller x reader #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #will miller #will miller x reader #frankie morales smut #santiago garcia smut #will miller smut #benny miller smut #benny miller x will miller x santiago garcia x frankie morales x reader

[miceandpens]

okay but....

......imagine Frankie's hands.

that's it. that's the post.

but really. they'd have to be one of the first thing you notice about him. right after his big brown eyes, or his broad shoulders that are stretching the soft cotton of that t-shirt to obscene levels. those hands. big, strong, callused, exacting, yet gentle, comforting...

it's the first sign you get that you may be a little far gone. you're out with the boys at a dive bar. and it's always a good time. and maybe while Benny's up arguing with the juke box while Will's picking up the next round. and you find yourself staring at Frankie's hands as he shells peanuts. quick expert movements to crack the shell and then dart up to those pretty lips of his. lord spare you when the tip of his tongue swipes off the excess salt from his fingers. he doesn't catch you, thank christ. but Santi across from you does. gives you a slow knowing grin that makes you scramble out of the booth to go help Will.

you notice his hands next when Frankie insists on changing your car's oil for you. you honestly hadn't been dropping hints, but he wouldn't hear of you taking it even to a jiffy lube. it doesn't take him long, he actually knows what he's doing. you hang out on a spare spot on his work bench, watching him work. well... admiring him as he works. that adorable lil butt of his when he bends over to reach deep under the hood. the length of his legs as he rolls underneath the car. and then when he's done, he wips a rag out of his back pocket and wipes down his hands. time seems to slow as he rubs off lingering stains across his palms.

the picture of what those hands could do to you evaporates every other thought in your head. how they'd hold you close to him, safe and secure. long fingers combing through your hair. his palm cupping your jaw to kiss you over and over, softly, tenderly, needfully. those hands slipping up your torso to squeeze and caress your breasts. fingers undoing buttons, pulling down straps, baring you for him. he'd turn you around, press your hand to the wall and intertwine your fingers with his. his other palm sliding down your waist, squeezing your hip, before delving inward, under your pants. those strong fingers would find you already wet, already wanting him. he'd squeeze your hand and hold right where he wanted you as he--

"You okay?"

you blink a few times to find you're still in Frankie's garage, still on his workbench, still fully dressed. And Frankie's a few feet away, giving you an amused but confused look.

"...Sorry... I spaced there."

he chuckles and offers you a semi-clean hand to help you down from your perch. your touch lingers... or maybe you're just imagining things again.

clearing your throat you sayd, "Thank you, Frankie, really. You sure I can't pay you?"

he shakes his head and sucks in a breath, but doesn't say anything. you wait, trying to read his face before he looks up at you. eyes all wide and earnest and hopeful. his hands duck into his pockets, shoulders tense. "How about... I take you to dinner? Instead?"

"Like a date?"

he nods again. "Yeah. A da--"

"Yes."

masterlist

#feral frankie friday #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie fics #spicy #my writing

[writefightandflightclub]

Life itself (Santiago Pope Garcia x GN reader)

Summary: whump fic(?), pure angst, I hurt Santi (emotionally) and it’s brutal and don’t say I didn’t warn you and I’M SO SORRY.

Author’s note: the shortest thing I ever wrote? It barely deserves to exist. I just felt like a side of RAGING ANGST with my tea break this morning, I guess?

Warnings: 18+ for violence; blood; gunshot wound; hospitals; death; reader death(?).

GIF: @damerondjarin

Santi loves you, but you don’t know it.

You don’t know about the tears he sheds onto your tac vest when you are downed, his trembling hands wet with your ebbing life force. The way he stains his stubble red in painted streaks as he rasps a hand over his face in shock, his stomach churning as he smells warm, wet metal and it causes him to heave.

You don’t see the way the boys have to drag him off your unconscious form, two of them -three- holding him back, arms hooked beneath his and braced across his chest as he struggles to get near you, flinging elbows and scuffing rock and not caring who he hurts, even as his brothers’ own faces are tear-stained and ashen at the sight of you.

You don’t hear his bone-chilling, blood-curdling cries as the med-evac team usher him away from you, with an oh so pointed, sideward look at Catfish which tells Santi everything he wishes he didn’t know about your prognosis.

You don’t see ‘Fish and Benny’s restraining hold become a bolstering one, the men having to hold Santi upright as his knees buckle beneath him, your blood still drying on his clothes and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his open mouth, his breaths as ragged as the Andean peaks - now stained with shocks of flowering red.

You don’t feel the way he clasps your limp hand, all gathered up to his forehead, as he waits by your bedside. The kisses and saltwater pearls he plants to your knuckles over and over, one-by-one, as he cries and whispers how he wishes it had been him. How he refuses to leave his post even when he grows so tired that the room spins and blurs like he’s the one bleeding out.

You aren’t there to watch how he puts his foot through some drywall in the waiting room when he learns you might not wake up, his boiling, tumultuous rage entirely counter to the cruel, dispassionate delivery of the news. You don’t see him storm out into the parking lot because he has to get away from this, only for ‘Fish to find him doubled over and sobbing barely a metre from the doors, the man’s pain so sharp and sharded it takes his buddy a minute to be able to reach out. For the pilot to find a way through the glass pain protruding like jagged peaks and to be able to smooth his hand in circles at Santi’s back, his voice a low, reassuring rumble and entirely inadequate.

He didn’t make it very far when he fled.

He can’t leave you, after all. He promised that he never would.

You didn’t promise him the same, and you don’t see the light in his eyes go out the moment he realises that.

You don’t see him lose you.

You don’t see him defeated by it.

You don’t see it break him.

Santi loves you.

But now you’ll never know, and he’ll never have a chance to tell you.

Worst of all, he’ll never find out how fiercely you loved him back.

More than life itself.

Enough to take a bullet for him.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #Oscar Isaac #Santiago Garcia x reader #cw: blood #cw: death #cw: gun violence

[stusbunker]

A Gentlemen’s Agreement Epilogue

A Supernatural Denny AU Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny Lafitte

Other characters: Pamela, Jesse, Caesar, Crowley, Balthazar, Meg, Jo, Lee, Lisa, Sam (mentioned), Drea OFC, Robbie and SJ OMCs, Deanna OFC

Word count: 2340

A/N: Enjoy! xoxo Stu

Brunch

    The sun was bright, but the air was crisp. The remnants of the early snowstorm had left soggy lawns and damp sidewalks. Benny pulled up to the restaurant and parked on the curb, smiling over at Dean. He waited patiently. 

    “You sure this is a good idea?” Dean squinted in the midday light.

    “Been dying to meet ya. Figured it’s only fair, I met your folks, you can meet my people too,” Benny said simply. “But I’m not gonna force ya.”

    “I just, I’m not used to being out in public. In numbers,” Dean sputtered.

    Benny raised a single eyebrow at him. “Well, I guess this is your best shot to try it out, dontcha think?”

    “What if they don’t like me? I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your friends,” Dean explained the root of the problem.

    “I like you, they will too. Just relax, be your charming self and if you don’t know what to say, you can just keep eating.” Benny put his hand on Dean’s thigh, squeezing just so.

    Dean growled out a sigh. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

    Like that could make an uncomfortable situation worth it. Benny smirked at Dean’s logic, waiting for his face to soften from grouchy to amiable. Once Dean relaxed, Benny kissed him, just long enough to keep him flustered and climbed out of the truck.

     They approached a large round table midway along the heated patio, where four people were already seated.

A raven haired woman waved them over. “My good Benjamin, did you bring a straight boy to brunch, just for me?!”

“Pammy!” Benny leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Hate to disappoint ya darlin', but ain't nothing straight about this'n."

 “Hey, now! Can’t a guy speak for himself?!” Dean snipped defensively as he sat in the spot beside Benny.

Everyone laughed. Pamela raised her eyebrow in question.

Dean licked his lips and put on the smolder, “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m taken.”

“Wait, this--- THIS is your sassy mechanic?!” Crowley leaned forward, extending his hand, his English brogue gruff and pandering. “Nice to finally meet you, handsome.”

       Dean gave Benny the side eye and all Benny could do was shrug coyly. Dean shook the man’s hand, trying not to show his discomfort from his lingering glances. Benny made the rest of the introductions, Jesse and Cesar were also a couple, but had been married for a few years. They seemed to be waiting on someone before they ordered. The group sipped their cocktails with a fresh pitcher of Bloody Mary in the center of the kitsch tablecloth.

Benny poured Dean a generous portion of the red drink and slipped seamlessly into the conversation. Dean sucked the palmeto out of an olive and listened casually, not too sure where he fit in this part of Benny’s life.

Twenty minutes later a rail of a guy swaggered in, with oversized aviators and a black linen suit. 

“Oh, thank Christ for booze,” he huffed, grabbing Dean’s glass without even acknowledging Dean was there. The blonde chugged the entire drink, before breaking for air. “I just had the worst hook up of my life, no, well, the year at least. He took me to his mother’s house. She tried to make me breakfast. I was simply mortified. I just left. What could I even do at that point, honestly?!”

Now that his audience had his attention back, the man gawked at Dean. He even pulled down his sunglasses for a better look. “Now who the fuck is this? Is it show and tell?! Because I am not prepared in the least.” 

He casually patted at his hair and eyed Dean from top to toe. Benny chuckled, but Pamela was the one to make the introduction.

“Balthazar, our regular hangover diva. Meet Dean, Benny’s boy toy,” she deadpanned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh you can’t be serious,” Balthazar lamented, looking from Pam to Benny to Crowley and finally at Dean. “Fuck you southerners and your goddamn accents--- always gets the hotter ones,” he muttered defensively as he threw himself against the armrest of the chair, crossing his legs.

“Well, now that we’re all here,” Cesar ended the dramatics concisely. “Maybe somebody should find our waitress?”

Dean looked at Benny confused. “We’re always here for a while, she doesn’t bother us until we’re actually ready to order. Tend to annoy her otherwise.”

Crowley volunteered as he needed to head to the men’s room anyhow. Five minutes later he arrived with an obviously surly waitress.

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Meg’s smokey voice broke through Balthazar's latest story. She centered herself between Cesar and Crowley’s seat and cocked her hip, tongue firmly in cheek as she waited for Dean to take her bait.

“Heya, Meg,” Dean sighed. The inevitable caught up with him after all, they just had to run into someone he knew.

“Oh, this has got to be good, now, pray tell, how do you two know each other?” Crowley probed.

“Oh me and this schmuck? We go way back.” Meg smiled without teeth.

“Is that so?” Benny tested the waters.

“Not like that,” Dean grumbled. “Meg, here, took my little brother Sammy out for a few spins, back in the day. Didn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? It was high school.” Meg let her indifference coat her entire being until curiosity sparked to life in her eyes. “So what are you doing with this crowd, or did they bring you in just to add a new level of torture to my Sunday shifts?”

“Well---.” Dean swallowed, looked at Benny for clarification and got mild amusement instead. “I think you’re stuck with me now.”

“Joy,” Meg bristled before taking their orders, knowing most of the table’s usuals before they even opened their mouths.

News

    Benny rushed into the customer entrance of the shop, the wet October air had kept the service doors closed for the past week. He leaned against the counter, decorated in local business cards and charity fliers, anxiously waiting for someone to talk to. His chest was so tight he worried he’d pass out from excitement. He just needed to see him was all, once he saw Dean it would be easier.

    Lee sauntered in from the service bay, they both had drawn the short straw it seemed.

    “Hey, mind getting Dean for me? It’s important,” Benny asked, unable to keep the burning smile from his face.

    Lee eyed him curiously but nodded and headed back the way he came. He didn’t shout, not really. “Dean-o, your boyfriend’s looking for ya.”

    Dean unfurled himself from the engine he had been tinkering with all morning and glared at Lee.

    “Husband, whatever, seems urgent,” Lee acquiesced. Dean nodded and wiped his hands off on the closest rag. Dean pulled his wedding band out from his undershirt out of habit more than anything. He couldn’t wear it on his hands at work, but he didn’t want to lose it so Benny made him a braided leather necklace once they got back from their honeymoon.

    Dean ignored formality and walked straight into the waiting room. Once he saw the look on Benny’s face he knew what was happening.

    “It’s go time?” He asked, shock and exhilaration sparking his instinct to move.

    “It’s go time, cher. Lisa called me on the way to the hospital. Sam’s driving her from the office. Her water broke about 9:30,” Benny explained, the nervousness slipping into his cadence.

    “Alright, I’m gonna clean up, you want me to drive?” Dean asked, gauging the unsteadiness in his usually stalwart husband.

    “That’s probably best, yeah,” Benny agreed. 

Dean leaned in and kissed him firmly, resting his forehead against Benny’s temple before pulling away.“Hey, we got this, alright? That kid is gonna be so spoiled having you for a daddy, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking, gonna have you wrapped around their finger before they can even crawl,” Benny teased back, inhaling with contentment.

Dean headed back to warn his coworkers that he had a baby on the way and to clean up enough to be allowed into a hospital. Jo followed Dean out into the lobby. Quickly, she hugged Benny before demanding regular updates to the group chat.

“Alright, get out of here, we’ve got you covered for the rest of the week. Let me know and I will put in paternity leave as soon as everyone’s home, okay?” Jo got all professional about things as Dean left.

“Oh, right, shit. Well, I guess I’ll let you know when you can come over and---,” Dean started before Benny pulled him by his elbow.

“We should be goin’” Benny urged. Dean looked at Jo one last time and nodded.

This was it.

   Dean held Benny’s hand the whole way to the hospital, their grip tightening every so often, grounding them both. Because Lisa was a friend and the surrogacy was looser than most circumstances, both Benny and Dean were allowed in the delivery room. They were the best cheerleaders a birth mom could have ever asked for. Seven hours later, one chubby baby girl entered the world screaming to high heaven and splitting her fathers’ hearts open for an entirely new level of love and devotion.

    Mary Andrea Lafitte-Winchester, or Drea for short, was a happy and healthy little girl. And an overprotective big sister to her twin brothers, Samuel Joel and Robert Fergus, who came along four years later.

Sunset

    They’re old men now. Dean is five years retired, while Benny works the register for their sons on the weekends. Both of their hands aren’t what they used to be. But they keep busy. Drea is bringing the kids round tomorrow, it’s the start of summer break and Dean’s been dying to teach her kids to fish.  

    Dean went grey after he turned fifty, but it hasn’t changed since, in color at least. Benny’s beard is as white as Santa Claus and he hides what little hair he has left under a cap. They’re both a little rounder, a little lower to the ground, but they got that way together and neither of them notice it on one another anyhow.

       Every year they visit Jesse and Cesar in Arizona for New Year's. Though they fly more than make the drive these days.

        They still take turns cooking the meals and the movie nights from their early days resurfaced into movie afternoons when their kids moved out. Dean can’t hear for shit anymore and, naturally, Benny makes fun of him for it. But Dean’ll put in his hearing aids if company is over.

 It’s early evening in the beginning of June and the bugs are orchestrating quite the soundtrack to their time on the porch. Dean pours his whiskey. Benny’s already sipping his sweet tea, his medications don’t let him drink much anymore. Jo’ll come by on Sunday, along with SJ and his wife and Robbie. Sam and Jess usually make it to every other dinner or so.

    “Hey there, handsome. Mind if I join you?” Dean teases, once a flirt always a flirt.

    “Not at all, cher. It’s a helluva view,” Benny glances at his husband, watches Dean take in the peaches and pinks kissing the slopes of the fields. They sit like that for an hour, until the dark is too thick to see through. Groaning and creaking they stand in turn. Dean keeps his hand on the small of Benny’s back as they head inside for the night, steadying them both.

    They moved their bedroom to the ground floor after Dean’s heart attack, a lot less worry about making it upstairs that way. After being married forty years, Dean still makes jokes about it being Benny’s place. But it’s always been his home. He kisses Benny goodnight, makes it a little saucy because he can. He’s the first to close his eyes.

    In the morning Benny makes waffles and tofu bacon. Dean pretends he can’t taste the difference, fooling no one. They make out while the sink fills for the dishes, too few to run the machine. Benny gets handsy first and Dean tries to squirm into the upperhand. They’re interrupted by a car pulling in the drive.

    “Busted,” Benny whispers.

    “You’re the one who wanted kids,” Dean grumbles against Benny’s neck, an old, unfounded retort.

    “Yeah, but the grandkids---,” Benny starts.

    “Were made to be spoiled,” Dean finishes and kisses Benny once more. Drea’s yelling at her kids to slow down before her dads even make it outside to greet them. Her eyes, blue as her daddy’s are tired. They don’t envy her the school aged years. Dean bends down as baby Deanna, who’s nearly four, comes crashing into his arms. He pulls her up and holds her tight, reminds him of her mama and he can’t help but get a little weepy over the passing years. 

    “It’s so good to see you, baby girl.” Benny pulls his daughter into a hug before helping with their bags. The older kids don’t come inside until it’s time to eat, climbing through the barn and splashing in the creek until they’re soaked. But Deanna sticks with her Grandpa on a simple stroll, while Pappy and Mama catch up.

    Dean still has the jacket he bought from Benny, though the pants are long gone. He’ll leave it to Robbie when the time comes, when his son finds himself a stud that’s worth settling down for. If that’s what he chooses. 

    For now, Dean lets his granddaughter pick up every rock and stick she finds and examines it to the nth degree. He explains what he can about each one. She’s very curious. He even lets her wipe her chubby little hands on his pants’ leg when she needs to. They get back to the house just in time to start dinner, but before they go inside Dean takes a mental picture of his husband on the porch, their daughter beside him and his granddaughter running past him.

   It is a helluva view after all. 

Tell me what you think?

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#supernatural #supernatural au #spn fanfic #spn au #dean/benny #dean winchester x benny lafitte #bi!dean #aga: epilogue #A Gentlemen's Agreement #childbirth #meeting the friends #found family #aging #mortality #love of a lifetime #grandpa and pappy #health issues #Joel is for Jo and Ellen

[enochianribs]

Chapter 2 of the Cabin AU is up now!

Read on Ao3 here, or under the cut. 

(Reblogs appreciated!)

The roof had a leak. Dean woke up to a growing wet spot on the pillow next to his. He laid still, eyes crossing as he stared at the ceiling, watching the bead of water run across one of the unfinished boards, suspending itself for an entire minute until it plopped right next to his head. Slowly, his mind pulled itself out of his dream, though the haze lingered.  The roof had a leak. Dean woke up to a growing wet spot on the pillow next to his. He laid still, eyes crossing as he stared at the ceiling, watching the bead of water run across one of the unfinished boards, suspending itself for an entire minute until it plopped right next to his head. Slowly, his mind pulled itself out of his dream, though the haze lingered. 

 “Mmm...great.” Another item on his to-do list. 

 Dean was willing to bet there were more leaks in the living room. 

For a moment he debated allowing himself to be lulled back to sleep. It was all too easy to slip back to that dream again: blurry hands, soft mouths, quiet murmurs, everything he missed and everything he’d never had. Not really. 

 Rain gently pattered against the outside of the cabin, the storm grinding in from the East and then settling its haunches right over the hills to stay for the night. The sun was rising, and the pink sky cast shadows from the drops on the window pane, little spots phantom dripping down his sheets. 

 It was the first morning since he’d gotten to the cabin that he’d slept in past sunrise. Sluggishly, he sat up, diggin the heel of his hand into his eyes as a yawn fought its way out of his chest. He turned his head, and reached out with a hand to wake his companion, before reality caught up with him and his hand fell to the mattress, going through the ghost.

 That’s right , he thought. His mouth tasted like ash.

 If he laid there any longer his chest would become heavy, and his breaths ragged, so he tossed the covers off, and trudged over to the shower. The cold water bit through the fog better than anything else could, and he leaned his temple against the glass door waiting for it to heat up and fill the room with steam. 

 Normally, he’d air dry, but it was chilly and an urgency hung around him. He grabbed the bleach-spotted towel hanging sadly by the door towelled off quickly. 

He wandered idly, picking his daily morning tasks up and dropping them before he’d complete them. Something pulled him around the house. He was forgetting something.

Dean was midway through folding the quilt and draping it on the sofa arm when they caught his eye. 

Two large feathers sat in the middle of the massive dining table (he still wondered who had built and what they’d been thinking—  the thing could seat the knights of the round table if necessary). Tugging the fridge door with one hand he reached blindly for the pot of coffee he kept iced, and nudged it closed with his knee, never taking his eyes off them. 

They were captivating. He continued to stare as he poured himself a cup, spilling some of the coffee onto the counter. He’d forget to clean it up, and it would stain, but that was okay. If they asked, he was experimenting with wood staining.

Dean could examine them once he made himself some kind of breakfast. Those were the rules: remember to feed yourself, and then you can do whatever you want to with your day. Breakfast ended up being toast and jam, and he plopped it down at the end seat of the table, and reached for the feathers before he took a bite. 

The color on the first one was so dark it looked heavy, but it was as light in his hand as any feather should be. He held it up and squinted, twisting his wrist back and forth. It caught the light and reflected a shimmering oil slick back at him. The colors shifted, hues iridescent.

 At first glance it could be a raven’s, but it was at least four times bigger than that.

 The second one was more muted, the black towards the base of it dappled into a brown and white, and it was downy soft where the other was sharp and precise. Yesterday he’d thought it was grey but better light proved that it was a grey-brown.

He’d assumed that it was from the same bird—  creature , but now he wasn’t so sure. Dean didn’t know the first thing about birds. However, he knew several people who did. 

▵▿▵

“Hey, Bobby. Can I talk to Rufus?”

“He’s kinda in the middle of some’in’, Dean.” The roll of his eyes was audible, as someone yelped in the muffled background. “Can I call you back?”

“Please?” Dean asked, grinning cheekily even though he wasn’t there to warm Bobby over in person. 

Bobby made a disgruntled noise and paused, before sighing. “You’re doing the face aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Fine. You never want to talk to me .” 

“You know that’s not true.”

“Hm.” Bobby replied. Out of spite, he kept the phone next to his face as he shouted for his attention. “Rufus! It’s Dean.” 

Ouch , Dean mouthed wincing at the volume, as he listened to the sound of two old men grumbling at each other before fabric shifted, and Rufus picked up the phone. 

“He lives.”

A smile burst its way through Dean’s concentration. “Hey Ruf, gotta question for you.”

“Coulda called us sooner. We were beginning to wonder if you’d sold the cabin and moved somewhere warmer with pink flamingos.”

The image made Dean snort. Him at the beach? Unlikely.

“Nope.” Dean quipped. “Still here and freezing my ass off. You guys ever think about installing a damn heater?”

“And pay that bill? Hell no. We added a fireplace, what more do you want from us.”

Good ol’ crabby Rufus. “What do you know about birds?” 

“A lot.” As per usual, he was being obtuse.

“Know of any big enough to leave behind two foot feathers?”

Rufus whistled. “Not in North America, unless you’ve got ostriches running around.”

“That’d be a negatory. So there’s nothing you can think of?”

“Nope. Did you find something, kid?”

“Holding one right now.”

“No shit.” He could hear the bewildered tone of his voice over the shitty connection. “Well, I guess keep an eye out. It’d be real hard for something that big to hide, and even harder for it to sit comfortable in those pine trees with the branches so dense. I’d say you’re about to make the biggest zoological discovery in North America in the past century. Keep us posted?” 

“Will do.” Dean said, and he heard Rufus handing the phone back over to Bobby. 

“Hope everything’s okay up there, Dean.”

“Everything’s peachy, honestly. Anyways—” He checked the clock on the stove. 8:30. The hardware store would be open in a half hour. “I’ve got some errands to run, so I’ll leave you to whatever it is a couple of old farts do in retirement.”

“Hey—” 

Dean grinned to himself. “See ya, Bobby.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

The line went silent, and Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket, bobbing his head to the side in thought. Though he didn’t get a definitive answer, at least the call had eliminated the options of native fauna. 

▵▿▵

At nine in the morning, Dean was usually one of a small line of people waiting outside Lafitte’s Goods to needle Benny’s brain for fixes and tools of the trade. Pamela was waiting against the brick wall, hand shielding the summer morning sun from her eyes, reading a 99 cent paper back with interest. 

“Hey, Pamela.”

“Dean-o. Call me Pammy.”

“Really?”

“No, of course not. But Pam works. I’m not your mother.”

“You call your mom by her first name?”

“Fair point. What’re you here for?” She nodded her head and bounced off the wall, as Benny unlocked the doors. A couple of grizzled old men shuffled in ahead of them, beelining it for the plywood. 

Porch season. 

“Roof’s got a leak.”

“Leak season.”

“Apparently. This is the third one since I got here.”

She squinted at him, like he was omitting something important, and popped the bubble of gum in her mouth. Dean started to itch under her scrutiny. He hated being studied like a lab rat.

What was the woman? A witch? Why was she peeling back layers of his get-up without warning.

Dean coughed, and used Benny’s presence as an excuse to wiggle out from under her gaze. “Gotta—  yeah, see you.” Turning on his heel he fled towards the adhesives, face contorting with embarrassment. 

Holy fuck, somehow he’d gotten even more awkward. 

Dear god, help me. 

Benny never pried unless Dean seemed interested in offering up information, and for that Dean was actually incredibly grateful. Most days he didn’t want to talk about anything, certainly not his past, but Benny and his bushy beard and warm eyes had managed to wiggle through his walls, just a little. 

“Benny.”

Benny stared at him from behind the register, inquisitive expression considerably easier to cope with than Barnes' hungry expression. A friendly smile danced across his face as he assessed Dean’s no-doubt rosey cheeks. 

“She’s got her claws in you, huh.”

Dean ducked his head, glancing sideways at the brunette woman still looking at the different kinds of rope. A tramp stamp peeked out from under the bottom edge of her tank top. Dean tapped his fingers on the pock-marked wood counter and turned his attention back to his friend. “Is she always like that?”

“Sure is,” Benny drawled, ringing up everything Dean had haphazardly shoved onto the counter in his escape. “You just happen to be the newest, prettiest , plaything in Pringle.” The burly man winked.

 Pink crawled up Dean’s neck  from his collarbones and spread into his cheeks once again. Christ, there was no escape from these people. Still stammering, Dean practically ran back to the Impala. 

▵▿▵

 The phone vibrated in his back pocket. By the third ring, Dean had parked Baby in her usual spot, and he struggled to tug it out of his pocket, checking the Caller ID. 

California. 

He pumped the window down, the air getting warm inside the car, and he flipped the phone open, inhaling sharply. He should have called before now. Shouldn’t have let so much time pass. In the fall, he’d be too busy to take any of Dean’s calls anyways. 

“Hello?”

“Dean?”

“Sammy.”

Several seconds of too-long silence passed between them. 

“Where have you been?”

Dean swallowed, thick, guilt permeating the small space. 

“Sorry, I just—” He didn’t have an excuse. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“You still could’ve picked up the phone. I tried to call you about six times. You don’t always need to have something to say, y’know…  It just would’ve been nice to know you’re still breathing.” His brother’s voice was basically a whisper at the end. 

“I know.” Dean closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing shakily. “I know.”

“I had to hear it from Bobby. Dean—” Sam’s voice pitched up to that octave it always did when he was upset. “Dad’s gone again.”

Fuck. 

“And that’s fine. It’s not like I’m ten and incapable of caring for myself but I thought—  I thought he’d be back by now. It’s been a couple of weeks.”

“Shit, Sammy.” 

“I think he’s fine. He sent a vague text a couple of days ago, it’s just with school starting in two months I get worried. Not even for him, just for us. I can’t pay for school myself, and I can’t afford to miss anything because of Dad. If my grades drop, I’m out.”

“I know.” God, Dean knew.

Sam was a late bloomer for college. The kid was brilliant, but he’d been dealt a bad hand, and it was a miracle Rufus and Bobby had invested in a saving fund for the two of them decades ago. At twenty-two, Dean knew that he’d already had trouble securing the scholarships. Stanford wanted the best and brightest, not the kid with seven schools on his high school transcript and an overabundance of unexcused absences. 

The guilt piled up and perched itself on his shoulders until he sagged into his seat under the heaviness. It was his job to keep John out of trouble, not Sammy’s. And instead he’d run away from that responsibility. 

The repair materials sat in the backseat, and his heart twisted in his chest. The meadow sat peacefully in the late afternoon sun, just across the short distance of woods, and it still kept its secret. He didn’t want to go back. Not yet. Not until he’d had his fill of independence.

“Look,” He could kick himself for how his voice cracked. “If John doesn’t turn up by the end of the week, I’ll come back. I’ll help. Promise.”

For what it was worth, a facet of his brother’s relieved sigh sounded apologetic.“Thank you, Dean. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

“Okay then.”

“Bye.”

“Talk to you soon, Sammy.” Dean’s jaw clenched involuntarily, as he flipped the phone closed and tossed it against the passenger door. His frustrated shout echoed between him and the trees, but he didn’t feel better.

Always this .

Historically, John would do something stupid and irresponsible and Dean would drop everythign to clean up the mess and no one would thank him. Not really. That was fine.

Family was supposed to break your heart. 

 ▵▿▵

 The leak proved to be an easy fix. 

Dean fought the attic door that led to the roof, following the small staircase up until he was on the balls of his feet, head sticking out as he pulled himself onto it. The shingles were rough, cracked and damaged from the winters, and he scrapped the length of his arm against it.

 The source of the leak took only a minute to find. Five or so shingles were missing, leaving nothing but the wood underneath, which did nothing but absorb any and all precipitation. The rubber sealant smelled terrible, and he gagged dramatically, almost dropping the metal can in the process. Done applying, he plopped his ass down, determined to see it dry properly before he went back inside.

Half assing things had always resulted in a stern talking to in the least, and it had been something he’d struggled with growing up, his mind yanking him a thousand directions until his head was spinning and John was disappointed. 

Dean grit his teeth, purposefully dragging the raw scrape against the rough roofing, the burn biting through the thought, bringing him back down from that far off place he so frequently wandered to. He didn’t even know how he got there, but he found himself lost, shrunk down, smaller than the hand-me-down leather jacket he tried to fill.

From the roof he could see almost everything. It turned out that Rufus and Bobby’s cabin foundation was built onto a gentle slope.

The rain clouds had dissipated, migrating to the flat plains further south, and it left a crisp atmosphere behind. The sun poked through the remaining gargantuan cumulonimbus clouds, sunbeams gently caressing the grass. Grey mist rose from where the creek beds greedily absorbed the heat. It reminded him of the paintings of cowboys, sitting on a stallion, bathed in golden light, their backs to the audience, all the edges illuminated and throwing everything else into stark purple shadows. 

 The burn of the scrape subsided as a sense of peace settled Dean, his body melting into the shingles. An hour passed before his stomach growled, and he climbed back down for lunch.

 ▵▿▵

 Tapping. 

Tapping at the window pane only inches from his face. 

Groggy and only slightly encrusted (gross) Dean opened his eyes and was met by dark blue ones, a tawny human hand pressed up against the glass. 

 Dean’s soul evaporated out of his body, back pressed to the headboard as he scrabbled for the small knife he kept under his pillow. Before he could look again, it was gone.He launched himself out of bed, so very entirely grateful that he’d had enough sense to go to sleep in his boxers and his worn-out threadbare Kansas shirt. 

Holy hell.  

Fingers trembling, he opened the window, leaning almost all the way out, hovering a few feet above the ground.A single feather slowly came to rest soundlessly on the pine-needle carpet. The view from the window remained unyieldingly motionless. 

Black-eyed susans had begun to sprout in the shade, despite themselves, and now they quivered where they grew between the pine-roots even though the morning wind had not pierced through the woods yet. 

Craning his neck, he glanced up, half expecting the last thing he’d ever see to be a terrifying bird man staring down at him like he was lunch. Nothing. 

Dean practically fell out of his room, chanting under his breath in a poor attempt to calm himself down as he stumbled down the short hall to the living room. 

It’s human.

“No,” Dean spoke to the picture frames on the walls. He had no idea what he was denying, but the situation begged to be denied. He paced back and forth in the living room, no doubt wearing the floor down despite the fact that he was wearing socks—  the ones with the holes in the heel. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Oh my God, it was so very not okay. 

Suddenly, the couch seemed like the perfect place to suffocate himself to unconsciousness. Someone else could deal with this. 

 No , he thought. You wanted this to happen, you dirty liar. Stop panicking and deal with it. 

Wings was human- or at least partially human. He looked like a man. Dean’s thin eyelids fluttered closed, and the image was painted on the backside of them with crystal clarity. Square jawline, arrow-straight nose, curiously arched eyebrows…  and the eyes . They were so blue. And they had been looking right at him. Watching him. 

It was entirely ridiculous that his eyes overshadowed the massive lurking darkness behind him, of what had to have been his wings. 

A human with wings. 

This was crazy. Everything was crazy.

The way he saw it, there were two directions this could go: he could pretend he hadn’t seen anything, and this would be tucked away into the delusion box that he kept under lock and key at the back of his mind and he could grow old being none the wiser of whatever breach of reality this was, or he could go find it. 

The first option was sounding real nice. Normal. Well adjusted. 

He was well adjusted. 

Besides, Dean wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t a dream.  this entire thing was a fever dream and he was in some hospital bed back in Lawrence, stuck in a coma. Dean pinched himself, viciously and stared at the white marks left on his forearm, helpless. 

Nope. 

“Okay.” He barked out a laugh. 

He should call Jo. 

After a few more minutes of pacing and hyperventilating, he decided against it. He would tell her—  of course he would! —but when it came up.

The Harvelle’s were good people and they’d shown him nothing but kindness. 

The situation had to be broached with care, or the small home he’d built in the life he wanted to live would topple in on itself, and the rubble and dust would drown him.

Trust issues were a problem of his, and he’d been aware of them since high school, when he’d had too many secrets to keep and any semblance of a support system was states away. 

God, he knew the way he clammed up was obvious, but sometimes he surprised even himself. If he was being honest, there was a lot more to it than a strong need for privacy. Didn’t matter though. In the end, after all the nit-picking and self beratement, it boiled down to fear. 

Jo could keep her mouth closed, but there was always a chance she’d accidentally tell someone, and there was a high chance it would be the wrong person. If he let it slip that this thing existed, who knew what would come packing. And he knew sooner or later, someone would bring the heat. Words got around easily in a small town like Pringle and he knew everyone would be at his door, wanting a chance to see the freak of the week. 

Which… was a thing that existed. A human with wings, that called the small clearing his home.

His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He felt protective over the man, almost ferociously so. 

The day’s hunting trip wasn’t happening— now Dean was paranoid.

What if he accidently shot him? Or scared him off permanently? 

His stomach churned, acid and bile climbing their way up his throat. The burn was familiar. Half his childhood had been spent subsiding panic attacks and anxiety, calming down Dad or Sam or both at the same time. 

▵▿▵

The tin echo of a gunshot managed to penetrate through the thick log walls of the cabin.In a heartbeat, he was scrambling for the ancient shotgun. The front door swung open, the little voice in his head told him to close it behind him, but his feet carried him quicker than his mind and so he left it swinging on its hinges at his back. 

An anguished scream gargled its way from somewhere deeper into the woods, due south of the cabin. Rocks dashed the soles of Dean’s feat and he swore out loud, having forgotten his boots at the door. 

Shit shit shit.  

Someone was nearby, and they were ballsy enough to fire a weapon despite the illegality of hunting on private property. His mind raced at the same speed he ran towards it, a limp skewing his gate every few steps. Stray branches caught the sleeves of his shirt, tearing through the fabric as he refused to slow down. 

It’s just a deer. 

He knew better. 

They’re just after a deer, or a bison that wandered away from the heard or an elk or something—  

Another blood curdling scream erupted from amongst the pine, this one loud enough to rattle the crows out of their nests. They cawed, the sound of dozens of pairs of wings taking flight muting the pained groans. 

He knew better. 

Please—  please. Not Wings.

He faltered over a boulder, panic overtaking muscle memory and skidded to a halt at the crest of a ledge. The scene below knocked the breath out of his chest, leaving a vacuum in its wake. 

Campbell, one of the more elderly hunters of the area was standing over another tawny body. Giant black wings sprawled out, twisting and twitching in the dirt and mud, feathers slightly splayed underneath his back. 

Campbell’s face distorted in pain, a tense moment passing before his wild eyes landed on Dean, the whites of his too visible, even from ten yards away. Blood pumped out from a wound on his neck, and he had a hand clamped down onto it, slick with red, he held a shotgun limply in his left hand, the butt of it dropped heavily to the ground. 

Semi-satisfied that Campbell didn’t seem interested in shooting again, Dean fixated every ounce of attention on Wings and his breath hitched. Smeared across his mouth and chin was a copious amount of blood. He’d bitten Campbell. Dean’s heart swelled with pride.

Good . 

His short encounter with Campbell prior had proved that the man was a bag of dicks, cocky and far too keen on the killing aspect of hunting. It skeeved Dean out then, and it certainly did now. Campbell was still looking at Wings like he was prey. Though no component of the scene begged to differ: the man was naked, teeth bared, but he was incapable of escaping, the gunshot wound in his abdomen bleeding him dry. 

Dean leveled the end of his shotgun at Campbell’s head. “Get the fuck away from him.”

Campbell backed away from Wings, the muscles in his right arm tensed, like he wanted to put it up defensively, but it was necessary he kept pressure on the wound. It looked like Wings had gone for the jugular. “It attacked me, Winchester.”

“And?” 

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Dean would put money on the fact that he looked the part, he could feel his chest heaving, something akin to dull rage pumping through his veins. He prayed the tremor in his hand didn’t betray his hesitation. “I said move .”

Obeying his orders, Campbell stepped back, never taking his eyes off of the strange man. Agony flashed across his face where he laid in the dirt.In his hands, he held a silver blade. Wings looked from Campbell to Dean, expression visibly softening.

“Give me your coat.” Dean didn’t have much time, glancing at Wings, he saw that a red gleam of blood was starting to trickle from the corner of his mouth and his eyes moved frantically. He slid down the slope and went to take off his jacket and remembered his was only in his boxers. “ NOW .” 

Campbell shirked it off and threw it at Dean, staying exactly where he was. Moving quickly, Dean pressed the thick fabric to the wound, moving his other hand to the back side to see where the bullet went. There was no opening there, and he was thankful that Wings was naked. He could skip the sometimes detrimental process of removing his clothes to assess the wound better.

 He tied the jacket around him and slid one arm under his legs and the other across his shoulder blades, lifting him up carefully. Dean had to get him back to his house immediately, before Wings lost too much blood.

One last time, he regarded Campbell. He felt the sneer tug his lip up, his voice like acid trying to eat through the other man’s bones until he was nothing. “Get the fuck off my property. And don’t tell anyone about this. He’ll be fine, not that you care. But you won’t be if I see you here again, or if I hear about this from anyone. Do I make myself clear?”  

Samuel’s eyes darkened clearly at war with Dean’s threat, but his skin was taking on a pallor akin to lethal blood loss. He nodded curtly, acknowledging the agreement, at least for the moment. 

Reasonably satisfied that Campbell wouldn’t shoot them in the back, Dean turned and left, the body draped over his shoulder too warm.Dean’s hand wrapped around, hand feathering over his taut side, avoiding the wound. He could feel his fingers wet with blood. 

Wings was whispering something feverishly, though Dean couldn’t catch a word of it, his eyes glazed over with pain, searching the sky for something with a fervor of a religious man with hell hounds on his heels. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Dean murmured, straining to carry the both of them the distance to the cabin. “I’ve got you.” 

Wing’s head lolled to the side, and his body went slack. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but Dean couldn’t afford to cry now. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to get them inside safely. He swallowed the terror. He ducked and wove through the undergrowth, fearing that the drooping wings would catch on a branch or boulder. 

The time it took until he could lay Wings down on his dining room table felt like hell had manifested on Earth, keenly able to feel life slipping away in his arms.

Once Dean managed to put Wings on the table without his head smacking the wood, he tore the kitchen apart for salt and a bowl of water and some clean washcloths, and sprinted to the bathroom, yanking the drawers out and emptying their contents onto the counter and sink until his eyes landed on the tweezers and isopropyl alcohol.

It wasn’t a perfect med kit, but there was no other choice. It had to do. 

Dean approached the table cautiously, worried that too much movement would set him off. The dark wingspan spread out almost three feet on either side of the table and Dean swallowed a stone.

He had no idea what to do next, not really. The closest experience he’d had to being a doctor had been treating John’s stab wound when he was thirteen and John had come home more beaten than usual.  

He stared helplessly down at Wings.  

“He...help.” Wings voice was like a ghost’s, he barely heard it, and he was standing right next to him. He looked up at the cobwebbed chandelier lighting like it was something holy and mesmerizing and Dean realized he was losing him. 

“Shhh… it’s okay.” His forehead was sticky with sweat and drying blood, and Dean pushed some of the unruly black wisps from his eyes, humming low. “I’m gonna help you.” 

Wings hand shook, following the edge of the table, feverishly searching for something to hold onto. Tentatively, Dean slid his fingers between his, feeling his calloused palm against his own. “Wings. Wings, you gotta listen to me. Wings, please . You have to lay still.”

He had no idea if the man understood a single word he was saying, but it seemed to do the trick. Over the span of a terrible minute, his breathing slowed down, and his grip on Dean’s hand went from frail to almost bone crushingly alive. 

Wings’ blue eyes were on him, flickering a little in the low light. Dean waited, untrained, unable and unwilling to play operation on him while he was still conscious, eyes desperate to look at anything but the daunting task before him. 

Eventually, he passed out, his painful grimace replaced by a soft one, and Dean began to remove the shrapnel bullet, praying to anyone who was listening that it had not shredded his insides beyond repair. 

 ▵▿▵

 At some point in the night, Dean had gotten up to draw the curtains and lock the door, willing to sacrifice only a moment to seal them away from the rest of the world. 

 Now, sunlight pierced through the cracks, illuminating them both in thin lines of white light. He watched Wings toss and turn, his face gnarling into pain each time he moved.

 What if Dean had fucked it up? What if the next breath he drew was his last? His mind raced, punishing him for every moment’s hesitation that could very well lead to his death. 

 Dean caught himself following Wings jawline, examining the stark contours of his face like he would never see them again. Please, just please make it out alive.

 “Don’t die on me, Wings.” The words slipped out subconsciously. “Please, God, don’t die on me.”

 Dean had the decency to cover him up with the quilt. The two’s hands were still tightly entwined long after the heartbeat in Wing’s wrist lulled Dean into sleep, tumbling heart over head. 

#honestly i think i'm gonna reverse the title #I HATE TITLES what kinda corny ass things i come up with lmao #but for now. #that's what its called #cabin au #* #mine

[grease-weasel]

Arlo, his (idk wtf they are they have their moments) guy Benny, his favorite companion Boone and his best friend Rex

#the most abrasive friend group imaginable #benny is still a wet rag #oc: arlo #fallout oc #fallout #fallout fanart #my art #!! greasel posting !! #fallout new vegas #falloutart #falloutoc #fallout art #fallout nv #fnv #fnv art #fnv benny #fnv courier #fnv oc #benny fnv #fnv boone #fnv fanart #boone #craig boone #boone fnv #boone fallout #benny gecko fanart #benny gecko #rex fallout new vegas #rex fnv #fnv rex

[need-a-fugue]

Trustworthy (Chapter 6)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: language and just plain being miserable

It’s cold and wet and fucking miserable.

Your day so far… wake at the ass crack of dawn to a jerking, sputtering, clearly about to go down helicopter. Get – essentially – tossed from said helicopter into the midst of a bunch coca farmers out in an Andean valley. Become an accomplice in the unwarranted deaths of a few said coca farmers. Mill about the tiny community – wary eyes watching your every movement – as Santiago trades money for those lives… and for a handful of donkeys. Or mules, or whatever the fuck they are. Load up said donkeys with millions of dollars – certainly the type of cargo these poor animals are used to carrying – and head off into the jungle. With a sprained ankle. And a probable concussion. And – you realize just as that familiar ache begins to set into your hip – a shit ton of rain headed your way.

You’d lost track of how far precisely you’d gone, how many miles you’d traversed through this treacherous environment. And you refuse to ask, afraid that it’ll be just a fraction of how far you feel it’s been. By the time the sun descends and everyone hunkers down beneath a cluster of heavily rooted trees – just enough of an overhang to provide a bit of shelter from the once-again assaulting rain – it feels like you’ve all piled four damn marathons one on top of the other. But looking around at the thick foliage around you, noting the relatively small trail tamped down by your group as you climbed and trampled and fought your way up and out of that valley, it’s very clearly been closer to the length of a 5K fun run. Minus the fun. And the free T-shirt.

You let out a ragged, rather dramatic harrumph, the sheer annoyance at your predicament currently outweighing any fear or discomfort. But the discomfort is there none the less, every single nerve ending either on fire or vibrating from the utterly depleting fatigue that this day has caused.

Benny scoots closer to your side, tucking you back behind his shoulder just as you let loose with another full-body tremble. The action pins you even tighter to the wall of roots and mud and bark behind you, and to Frankie, who flanks your right side. “This fucking sucks,” you mutter, the final word coming out in an odd shuddering trill as the chill works its way out of your body.

“Yeah,” Ben breathes out with a soft chuckle before leaning back with an exhausted sigh. “Well, we’re dancing with the devil now.”

“Dancing?” Frankie returns, causing your tired gaze to swivel his way. “We were dancing when we got on the plane to come down here. I’d call this full intercourse.”

You all release a threadbare laugh, little more than a trickle of amused breaths being about all anyone has the energy to emit. Your arms wraps tighter around your core as you tuck yourself a bit deeper into Benny’s side, your eyes still trained on the man to your right. “Let’s just pray this is a one-night stand,” you smart, lips pulling into a sly smile the moment Frankie turns your way.

It takes a moment for his face to falter, the pained set to his features slowly melting into something just a little bit more relaxed as he snorts out an amused breath of his own. He gazes down at you, watches as you lean further back, burrowing even more into Ben’s warmth. He stares deeply, his dark brown eyes cutting through the onslaught of rain that continuously dribbles from the brim of his hat. “How’s your ankle?” he says finally. And the question catches you entirely off-guard. Not because it’s so strange or unwarranted, but because you’re certain that whatever thoughts and questions were just tumbling through his head, that rather benign inquiry wasn’t among of them.

You offer a small shrug. “S’fine,” you lie, biting the corner of your lip as the twisted appendage continues to throb. “Not like I got shot or anything,” you say as you lean forward and peer around Benny, trying to catch a glimpse of Will through the heavy rain and dark surroundings. “How ‘bout you, Ironmaiden? You still with us?”

You hear a short snicker from the man – and from Ben too – just before a deep rumble of, “Not dead yet,” cuts through the impending night. His face remains hidden in the dark, but you’re convinced that a hint of a smile flitted over it at the very least, and that’s enough to make you feel like a good deed’s been done.

But when you look back at Frankie, his shoulders heavily slumped as he leans away from the relative shelter of the trees, out into the pounding rain, you feel that tiniest hit of triumph swiftly uncoil and fade away. “Hey,” you bark out at him, nudging him with your foot as you lean back once more. “You’re gonna freeze out there.”

His lips tug up at the corners, but the small, closed-mouth smile never reaches his eyes. He makes no move to duck back beneath the leafy canopy, instead turning away and letting out a long, deep sigh. You nudge him again, saying nothing, but raising a questioning brow when his gaze connects with yours. “Pretty fucked up,” he mutters blandly before dropping his head again to stare down at the wet earth beneath his boots.

“Yeah,” Ben agrees beside you. “Pretty fucked up.” He uses his shoulder to jostle you a bit, get you to sit up and turn towards him. He holds up a giant, ripe mango, giving a little nod in place of an order to take it.

“Thanks,” you say, plucking it from his grasp. He merely nods again, this time a silent no problem, before shifting to present another to his brother. You look back at Frankie, his broad shoulders still slumped, now thoroughly soaked as well. “Hey,” you begin, the word coming out more as a pained grunt as you reposition yourself and fold the twisted ankle up beneath you.

His eyes fly up, wide and worried at the hurt in your voice. But the last you thing you want is for him to feel even worse than he obviously does right now. So again, you brush off the pain, shaking your head and rolling your eyes at the unasked are you okay? emanating from his stare.

“A little help?” you ask, holding the mango out to him. He reaches for it with a look of confusion. “My hands are so cold, fingers are numb,” you state with a shrug just before leaning forward and capturing his arm. Before he has the chance to even register what you’re doing, you’ve already wrapped yourself around him, tugging him with the only remaining energy that you have back beneath the tree’s canopy.

He lets out a little groan in protest, but appeases you all the same, scooting back until he’s flush with the wall of roots behind you. “You could just bite into it,” he mumbles as he settles back and uses his thumbs to break into the fruit.

“Mmm,” you hum out, no real response at all. His left arm is still held tight in your grasp, your cold – though not actually entirely numb as you had led him to believe – fingers pressing into his bicep, gliding along the soaked-through fabric of his windbreaker. You scoot closer to his side, still feeling Benny at your back, but now craving the heat being put off by the man in your hold instead.

“Here,” he breathes out, handing you a mangled chunk of mango.

The smallest titter of a laugh blows past your lips as you accept it and drop your heavy head down to his shoulder. “Don’t you have a knife?” you ask before shoving the food into your mouth.

He stills in your grasp. “Huh,” coming out of him in a surprised sort of grunt. He moves the mutilated, dripping fruit up to his lips, licking at the juice before tearing into a hunk of orange meat with his teeth. He shakes his left arm free from your clutches and deftly wraps it around you to tug you close, all without ever disturbing your cheek’s perch atop his shoulder. His wide open palm slips down to your hip and presses its warmth right over the dull ache of that damn old injury, and the deep tenor of his voice resounds in your ears as he says simply – mouth still full – “didn’t think of that.”

000

The sun rises somewhere around your second or third hour of hiking. You think. The burner phone you’d brought along had long since gone dead, and it’s been ten years or so since you’ve worn an actual watch. But it certainly felt like two to three hours went by from the time Santi roused you from your shivering near-sleep and the ominous birth of a new day.

Thick mist and fog gathers round, clinging to the ground, the trees, obscuring the way and growing heavier the higher into the mountains you climb. You take to doing rollcall every fifteen minutes or so, each calling in turn to the person behind, making sure that no one’s been lost to the surrounding haze.

You lose all sense of time, not even realizing how long it must’ve taken to get to the terrifying and precarious footpath cut into the side of the mountain until you look up to see that the sun is now high in the sky, closer to its journey down than up. The fog had just begun to abate as you all reached the narrow trail, and while that was very clearly a good thing – because if ever there was a time when you needed to see exactly where your feet were stepping, this was it – a part of you cursed the cloud for lifting and allowing an unobscured visual of all that lay below.

You can’t help it. With every step you take, your eyes veer from the placement of your feet along the narrow, rocky trail over to the steep drop off and then out to the endless acreage of mountainside and jungle below. Every step. Every plodding, breathless, horrifying step. And to make matters worse, to ratchet your heartrate and blood pressure just that much higher, the children in front of you have chosen this time to begin petulantly arguing and hurling accusations.

You roll your eyes and try to tune out the thinly veiled allegations and insults being tossed back and forth, each man’s voice carrying a different shade of I’m tired and hurt and hungry and I need a damn nap.

It was really only a matter of time, you figured, before the grumpiness managed to overflow into conflict. That’s just what happens when people – men in particular – go without rest for this long, carrying the burden of survival on their backs for endless hours of drudgery. Sure, you’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this… if anyone could find their way through unparalleled stressors without cracking, it’d surely be a team of elite special ops guys. But, then again, these men were all retired. They had real lives that they’d left just to get sucked into this shit. They had families and jobs and car payments waiting for them back home. And they’d been under the mistaken impression that they’d be able to get back to them all in just a handful of days. A week, max.

Also, one of them had been shot… and everyone else harbored at least some injury from that helicopter crash that you still hadn’t been able to fully mentally process. So, sure, it makes sense that they’d eventually devolve into juvenile bickering. But did they have to do it on the side of a fucking mountain?

You stop short, a small gasp of surprise shooting from your lungs as you nearly faceplant into a donkey’s ass, Will and Ben both having come to a sudden halt in front of you. “The fuck” you nearly shriek, but neither of the men so much as toss a glance your way. You peer around the animal in front of you and glare at Will, tired eyes burning into the side of his skull. “Fucking move!”

He turns then, shooting you a confused look, taken aback, it seems, by your sudden irritation. As though this moment of impatient annoyance should be reserved for just him and his brother. But before you can say another word, before he’s able to come to the obvious realization – that there are other people in this world! – on his own, his stare veers, eyes blowing wide as they lock onto something behind you.

A crunch of rocks, a shuffling sputter of movement, a terrified scream blossoming from the mouth of the donkey in the rear. By the time you’re able to maneuver yourself around to see to what’s happening, all that’s left is a cloud of cash slowly trailing behind the fallen animal, and a stricken Frankie cemented up against the side of the mountain. You catch his horrified gaze, hold it for a moment before finding the words, “Are you okay?”

He gives a weak nod as he pulls himself upright, slowly making his way behind your – now nervous-as-hell – donkey. Ahead of you, the arguing has intensified, though what’s being said, you can’t quite glean. And you don’t honestly care. Frankie pushes past, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze on his way, and finally makes it to the front of the group where he directs everyone to keep moving… convinces them, somehow to let go of whatever the hell it is that they’re bitching about.

Had to get all the money…

Fucking Lorea…

Just move, damn it!

That’s about all you manage to get from their conversation. It’s all you care to get. Blame, accusations, words in general, none of that matters right now. Frankly, the sudden loss of a donkey and millions of dollars doesn’t matter to you right now. Nothing matters right now except continuing to put one foot in front of the other for however long you have to do it… however long it takes until you reach a place where you can collapse into the exhausted, pained heap of a being that you are and simply sleep.

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44 @mrscrain-x7 @kyjoraven@elephants-are-a-thing @nakhudanyx @thirsty-flygirl @leannawithacapitala

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #will ironhead miller #benny miller

[janicho88]

Falling For You -Part 4

December

Pairing-Eventual Dean x Female!Reader

Word count- 6071

Warning- Slight angst, jealousy, one or two swear words,  fluff.  Slow burn.

A/N- I had an idea for a one shot, and giving a backstory to Dean and the Reader meeting took on a life of its own. This story is AU  Thank you to @waywardbeanie and @whatareyousearchingfordean​  for helping me keep these 2 characters in line and letting me bounce ideas off of you.

Summary- After being burned before you had sworn off finding love for now. Coming home from work one night there is a strange man pounding on your door.  Neither of you knew what this meeting would lead to. 

Series Masterlist

Your parents Christmas party was two weeks away, but you had a lot of baking to do, and none of it was started.  Why did you procrastinate?  Oh yeah, not much freezer room here when they are finished, and you had been hanging out with Dean.  Coming home from work on Monday, you got a quick workout in before planning to spend the evening in the kitchen. 

 Recipes out, and ingredients spread on the counter you started working on your first cookie.  Tonight you decided, was peanut butter night, which meant making the dough for peanut butter blossoms first, it would sit overnight and cook tomorrow while you were mixing other dough.  Santa’s peanut butter cookie bars, and the last item of the night no bakes.

While working on the cookie bars there was a knock on your door which had you pausing to answer it. Hands a little sticky you answered the door as best you could. 

“Hey Dean.”

“Hi Y/N, um, you got a little something here, and a here.”  He pointed to one side of your face and then your forehead.  Wiping it off with your hands you made a bigger mess.  

“Moved out almost a week and you forgot where Sam lives already?”  You teased him letting him into your apartment.  

“No, I came over to see if you would like to grab some food with me.  I think you might be a little busy though.”

“Yeah, I’m working on deserts for the Christmas party at my parents in two weeks.  Your invitation should be coming any day, I hope you, your brother and Jess can come.  I know Cas and Meg will be there too.  I was in the middle of baking, but you are welcome to hang out if you want.”

“I got it today actually, I’ll be there.  Have you eaten?”

“No, I haven’t thought about it yet.”

“Alright, so let's order a pizza, and I’ll help with quantity control in the kitchen.”

“I won’t have much for you to control tonight, but pizza sounds good.”

While the bar was cooking you got everything ready for the no bakes, deciding to start them after the pizza arrived.  Eating at the counter next to Dean, he told you about the shop he was working in.  He really liked Bobby, said he was an old grump on the outside but a teddy bear underneath.  Bobby’s wife Ellen  helped with the book keeping some days, she also owned a bar a little outside of town.  He invited you to go with him, Sam and Jess to check it out sometime. Benny and he got along well, he also ran the kitchen at the bar in the evenings.

Santa’s peanut butter bars came out as you were waiting for your no-bake ingredients to boil.  Dean went to cut a piece after you had set it down.

“You know that’s going to be extremely hot right?”

“It will cool in a minute, everything is better right out of the oven.”  Shaking your head you went back to stirring your pot. “Oh that was good,” came from Dean a few minutes later.  “When did you start baking?”

“My mom used to do it all, I’d help with what I could when I was little.  Dumping in the ingredients she already measured, or stirring the batter after she mixed it.  When you’re a kid you think you are so much help.  Then we started doing it together as I got older, I learned from her.  Over time I’ve found some of my own recipes to make, or put my spin on others.  The last couple of years I’ve taken on most of the party baking, but there are one or two things we will make together for it.”

“You’ve got a real talent for it.”

“Thank you, but you don’t have to humor me.”  

Dean wasn’t sure what to say to that, just looking at the back of your head while you were stirring. “It can be a great stress relief too when I’m frustrated with someone or something. It also forces me to find time for the gym.”  You continued on not noticing his pause. 

You had made a double batch of no-bakes and when they were ready, had talked Dean into helping you spoon them out.  As the pot they were in cooled down Dean stuck a finger in the still soft cookie batter before putting it in his mouth.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Trying to keep a stern face as you looked at him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry did you want a taste?”  He dipped another finger and spread it over your lips before tapping your nose.  Neither of you moving, eyes locked on one another before Dean’s ringing phone broke you apart.  He went into the living room to take the call, while you wiped off your face and tried to figure out what that was between you.  Nothing, right?  You guys were just friends, neither of you wanted more, you were seeing things that weren’t there.

“That was Bobby, I have to go.  There is a late delivery coming into the shop he was expecting in the morning and he isn’t there to let them in.  You um, doing anything this week, or weekend?” He seemed a little more hesitant when he asked that.

“You’re looking at it.  Maybe some cleaning and decorating I’m a little behind on it.”

“You need any help?”

“I don’t know about help, but I’ll always take the company if you want.”

“Okay, I’ll see you sometime this week.  Night Y/N.”

“Night Dean,” locking up after him you let your thoughts drift to the green eyed man causing you so much confusion.  Two months ago you both wanted to avoid relationships, you still didn’t think you were ready to get back out there.  You really didn’t want to misread anything from him and scare him away either.    

It was Friday night before you saw Dean again, a knock coming just after 5:30.  This time he appeared at your door with beer, and burgers. 

“Hi, you didn’t have to bring food.”

“Did you eat?”

“No, not yet.”

“Did you have anything here to eat?”

“I probably could have figured out something.” 

“Yeah, the burgers were needed. This way more time to work on whatever tonight's project is.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.  Tonight's goal is frosting the sugar cookies I baked yesterday, making the frosting topping for the Cranberry Bliss bar, and the cake for the petit fours.”

“I’m not sure which question to ask first.  I’m going to go with what the hell is a petty four?”

Not able to hide a smile and small chuckle you looked at him as you handed him a plate for his burger and fries.  “Petit four, ever seen those small cake looking things that are like an inch or smaller, decorated fancy?”

“Maybe?  I pay more attention to the pie.  Speaking of, are you making any of those?”

“Not exactly, I have cherry pie cookie cups. Petit fours are a type of cake with layers of frosting and I also do a fruit filling in mine too.”

“Sounds complicated, but back to where are these cookie pies?  I think I need to check them for you.”

“Sorry, I was out of freezer room here, they already went to my parent’s freezer.  And yes, they are complicated.  I’ll make the cake today, then it has to cool and slightly freeze,  the filling, frosting and glaze will get made this weekend and then put all together.”

“I don’t have that kinda patience. Next question, what are you going to do with all this?”

“It’s a big party, we go through a lot then.  It will go back in the freezer after, and the week leading up to Christmas we’ll get it back out and make up trays to give away to friends, business we deal with, and have some left over for Christmas.”

“What does one have to do to get on this list, sweetheart?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure one will find its way to your door. 

“What all is on your party list?”

“The things from Monday, and tonight, buckeyes, cherry cheesecake bar, two different truffles, fudge, cranberry cookies, candies, white chocolate ginger cookies, and choc cherry brownie bites, polar bear faces and some candies.”

“Next week is helping mom clean, with any last minute decorations she hasn’t done, then food Thursday and Friday night. Saturday is the party, Sunday I might not get out of bed.”

Dean laughed at that, “I never said I was joking Winchester.”

“Alright, alright so what are we doing first?”

“You really want to help me?  You are welcome to turn on the television and just hang out.”

“Nope, I’m here to bake sweetheart.”

You offered to let him pick something on tv, but he declined so you turned on Hallmark Christmas movies to help you both get in the Christmas spirit.  Dean helped you put together the cake for the petit fours, so that could get cooking first.  Frosting sugar cookies was next, you had done a few cut outs, but you preferred plain old circles.  It saved time and could be decorated any way.  The frosting colors were always tied in to that year's decoration colors.  This year was blue, white and silver, unfortunately you hadn’t found a silver paste coloring yet.  You were going to make three different shades of blues and a simple white. The powdered sugar needed to be shifted still to help keep the frosting smoother. You gave that job to Dean while you got the rest of the ingredients ready.

“Oops,”  you heard from behind you.  Turning around Dean had put too much powdered sugar in at once then apparently leaned over to see what he was doing. Now he was wearing some on his face and shirt. 

“Here,”  handing him a wet rag you helped him clean up a little. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier to use store bought?”

“Yes, but this recipe tastes better, has a better consistency for decorating with it, and dries so I can stack them without ruining the design.”

“Whatever you say Betty Crocker.”

The two of you both grabbed some cookies and started to decorate, at one point you looked up and had to look away so Dean wouldn't see your smile.  The man really likes his sprinkles apparently.  

“Wow!”  You looked up quickly to see what caused that reaction from Dean.

“What?”

“Your frosting on those, that’s like store bought good.”

Feeling the blush heat up your face you smiled at him, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice over the years.  Watched a lot of decorating tips too.”

It was a lot of fun decorating the cookies with Dean, you goofed off a little and tried to “help” each other with the cookie the other was working on at that time.  That ended with some, let’s say interesting looking cookies thrown in with the others. 

“Hey Dean,” You got his attention while you headed to the sink with the last of the remaining frosting.  “I think you got a little something right here,” as you tapped him on the nose with a blue spoon quickly getting out of his reach. 

While you were standing at the sink he came up behind you and wiped his frosted nose on the shoulder of your dark green shirt.  “Dean!”  Neither of you could hold in your laughter.

The last task of the night was the frosting to the Cranberry bars.  Dean had snuck a few bits of everything tonight, but you didn’t care.  He had earned it.  This had been the most fun baking you had had in a long time.  

Neither of you had to work tomorrow and retired to the couch to watch a movie when you were all cleaned up.  The temperature had dropped this week and despite the heat being on still a little chilly in the apartment.  There was  a blanket behind Dean he grabbed before sitting next to you and tossing it over you both.  You didn’t realize as the movie went on you leaned a little closer in to Dean until he put his arm around your shoulders anchoring you close.

Dean was telling you about his week and how he met the owner’s step daughter, Jo, this week.  She had been in everyday to take care of the paper work for Ellen since she had problems at the bar to take care of.  According to Dean she was a bit of a talker, and kept coming to the back of the shop where he was working.

Oh you fool, you thought, she’s trying to flirt with you, not just talk.  “Was she just there this week?”

“Not sure, I heard her tell Bobby she would be happy to take it over if they wanted her too.”

Of course she would,  she wants to see you, went through your head, but all you said “Oh,”  You're not looking to date, you have no right to be jealous of her flirting with Dean or hanging out with him at work.  Not that he would be interested; he only wants friends right now too, but you found yourself worrying about Dean falling for her.  

Dean looked around your apartment as he was walking out, “Not much time for decorating yet?”

“I’m going to work on that tomorrow.  What about you?  How is your house coming?”

“I only had a few decorations I put up, I won’t be up here anyways.” 

“No?  Your parents aren’t coming back up?”

“No, we are heading to them.  Jess’ parents are going on a cruise that leaves the 26th so Sam and her are heading to see them before Christmas and will meet us in Kansas. I took the week of Christmas off, I’ll drive there either the 20th or 21st and come back here the 27th.   Are your parents staying in town for Christmas?

“Yep, we have it at their house every year, and my aunt should be good to travel by then.”

“That’s good, see you tomorrow.” 

“What?”  He just winked at you and shut the door.  Did you have plans you were forgetting?

Late Saturday morning while you were fighting with branches there was a knock at your door.  A bright eyed Winchester was waiting to be let in, his coffee in hand.

“I didn’t have plans today, and thought I’d give you some help.  Plus I wanted to see how the petty things went together.”  He looked at the corner where you had been working, “What is that mess?”

“That’s my tree, thank you very much, and it’s petit four.”

“You know real is the way to go.”

“Says the man with no tree.  Maybe it is, except when you live alone, and would have to water it and check it everyday and you have an allergy to the branches making you break out in red itchy spots.”

“Okay, you win.”

Dean helped you get the tree together and put the ornaments up.  When you finished with that you got the petit fours out to finish. Dean watched you adding layers to the bottom half of the cake, then put the top half on doing the same, helping when he could.

“Getting the glaze on is the hardest part, mine never look as good as ones you can get in a store.”

“I think they look awesome, if I tried these mine wouldn’t be half as good.”

You had ingredients in your cupboard for pasta so you started that inviting Dean to stay for dinner.  The night ended much like the last with the two of you side by side watching a movie on the couch.

The next week was pretty busy for you helping at your parents, it went fairly quickly though.  Usually during the week you will talk to Dean a few times and text almost everyday, even if it’s just sending the other a funny picture.  This week you hadn’t heard from him at all.  Guess he was too busy at work with Jo. 

The party had been going on for an hour and you still hadn’t seen Dean yet.  Sam, Jess, Cas and Meg had all arrived half an hour ago.  

It was thirty minutes later when Dean finally arrived. Finding his brother and friend first he said hello to them before looking for you.  Finally spotting you talking to a group of people, he hung out behind you for a few minutes before a woman looked up at him and said hello.  This had you turning around.

“Hello Dean, so glad you could finally make it.”  Was it chilly in here or just your voice.

“Oh, you’re Dean!”  Exclaimed the woman who first spotted him.

“Yeah, that’s me,”  he gave her a small smile.

The woman looked to you before going back to Dean, “It’s nice to finally meet you, it seems like my daughter has forgotten her manners. I'll introduce myself, I’m Alicia. It's nice to meet you. Y/N said you had helped her with the baking last week.  I have to say you two make a great team, thank you for helping her.”  She glanced over at you looking at the floor, “I need to go check the food, I’m sure I’ll see you around, Dean.”

“Sorry I’m late, I got called back into work.”

“The shop closes at one on Saturday’s, it’s 8:30 now. Did you walk home and then here?”

“No, Jo was trying to finish up paperwork for November that had to be sent in today.  She called me in to explain some of the notes, and expenses.  Bobby and Ellen were out of town today so she couldn’t ask them.  It took awhile and she wanted to grab dinner, I told her I had a party to be at, but she kept pushing and I went with her for one drink.”

“It’s fine Dean, nothing said you had to be here when it started, or stay the whole time.  Have fun, your brother and Cas are around here somewhere.  I need to go check the dessert table.”  

Turning and quickly walking away, Dean was too caught off guard by your distance to follow right away.  You had never given him the cold shoulder like that, he didn’t like it.  By the time he caught up to you again, someone else had pulled you into conversation.  Waiting a few minutes for you to finish, finally deciding to go find Sam and the rest of that group when you didn’t.  He was fairly certain you were upset with him, and that didn’t sit well at all.

He passed by the food set up in the dining room, and kept going.  As much as he was starving when he got here, he seemed to have lost his appetite now.  Meg and Jess were gone when he rejoined the guys.  He pretended to listen to their conversation, but he wasn’t really there.  Why were you so mad, was it because he was late, or did something else happen?  Why did you care when he showed up, there were numerous other people here.  His original plan was to come early and see if you needed help, but going over paperwork with Jo took much longer than expected.  She couldn’t seem to concentrate on her work.   

Excusing yourself from the family friend who cornered you , you made your way to your old room.  Needing a few minutes of alone time to calm yourself down.  You were jealous, but no way would you admit that to anyone else.  Your door opened minutes after you shut it, looking up Jess and Meg walked in sitting across from you on the bed.  

“Partied out already, or hiding from someone?”  Meg gave you a knowing look waiting for your answer.  “You do know Dean is downstairs right?”

“Neither, I just needed a minute, too many people down there for me.  Yeah, I know he finally showed up, not that I care”

“Liar,”  spoke up Jess.

“The two of us are completely sure you being up here has nothing to do with a green eyed bowlegged mechanic you have been looking for all night.”

“Nope, not at all. Why should I care if he spent the evening helping the boss’ daughter do paperwork, or that he took her out for dinner.”  Staring at your friends you didn’t say anything else. 

“Yep you're just fine,”  when you didn’t say anything else Meg continued, “know we are here whenever you want to talk about whatever is going on in your head.”

You all rejoined the party.  This was always one of your favorite nights as much as you were looking forward to having Dean here tonight, you weren’t up to seeing him right now.  You had caught up with your friends on and off the rest of the night.  Mostly when Dean had stepped away.  You were ready for the night to be over.

Sunday morning Dean stood outside your apartment door knocking without any answer.  The door behind him opened but he didn’t realize it until hearing a voice he knew well.

“You know I live in 43 right?”

“Yes, bitch, I do.  Y/N lives in 44.  She was off last night and I wanted to talk to her.  Picked up breakfast on the way over so she wouldn’t have to make anything.  But if she doesn’t open the door I can’t give it to her.”

“Jerk, It’s still a bit early, did you text her?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t respond.”

“You’re welcome to wait for her in here if you want to try again in a bit.”  After knocking again, he followed Sam inside.

Rolling over in bed, you reached over petting the dog laying next to you.  You missed having a dog around, but your apartment wasn’t pet friendly.  Grabbing a sweatshirt you made your way downstairs to see what your parents were up to.  You had decided to spend last night in your old room so you would be here to help with any more clean up this morning.  It was a good hour later when it finally dawned on you that you hadn’t checked your phone this morning.  Picking it you realized the battery died, and you didn’t bring a charger.  You were the only one without an iPhone so their chargers wouldn’t work on yours.  That will have to wait till I get home later.

Getting off the elevator later that afternoon you ran into Sam.  “Hey, Dean was looking for you earlier, but you never answered your door.  He waited for awhile, but had to get going.”

“I stayed at my parent’s last night, and didn’t take a charger for my phone.  Thank you guys for coming last night.”

“It was fun, thanks for inviting us.  When your phone has a charge, text Dean back, he has texted me a few times since he left asking if I’ve seen you.”

“Alright, talk to you later Sam.”

When your phone finally had some life you sent Dean a text apologizing for missing him when you weren’t home.

“Can I come over?” Dean texted back.

You had to debate with yourself whether you wanted him to or not.  He had done a lot to help you last week, and been a much needed friend.  Did he really deserve the cold shoulder because you were jealous?  You texted back ‘If you want.’

Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door, putting on a smile you let Dean in.  Maybe you could pretend your behavior last night didn’t happen. 

“Hi Dean.”

“Hey Y/N, thanks for letting me come over.”

“Not a problem, how was your day?”

“Alright, a little worried my friend is mad at me, and I really want to fix that. I’m sorry I was so late.  I was actually going to come early and see if you needed help, I’m sorry work got in the way.  I tried to bring you breakfast this morning so you wouldn’t have to get out of bed and mess with anything this morning.”

Guess he wasn’t going to go along with your plan to pretend it didn’t happen. “I’m sorry Dean, I shouldn’t have gotten that upset.  You didn’t have to be there right at 7, I was excited to have you there last night and it shouldn’t have mattered when you came. I should have enjoyed having you there when you arrived.  I ruined it for both of us, I’m sorry. Sorry, I missed breakfast with you this morning.”

“It’s okay, I just really don’t want to lose my friend.  If you really wanted to make it up to me, go shopping with me tomorrow night?  I need some help with Jess and Mom, please?” He gave you the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. 

“Sure, I still have a bit to do also.”  Dean had been the best thing to happen to you in awhile, you didn’t want to lose him either.  Hopefully a night at the mall could help things go back to the way they were. “Pick me up after work?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Have you eaten dinner yet? I have leftovers from the party if you want to stay for dinner?”

“Seriously? Yes, I  didn’t end up getting anything last night.”

Both of you worked in the morning, so instead of starting a movie after dinner you just turned a tv show on.  Tonight you two didn’t sit as close as you previously did, honestly you missed it. You made small talk, he asked how things were at your parents’ house.  You told him everything cleaned up fairly quick, staying there made you miss having your dog around. 

Snow was lightly falling on the way to the mall, you were hoping for a white Christmas. Dean asked about your day, not much happened for you at work.  He was telling you about a classic car that just came in he was working on.  He really enjoyed his job, his green eyes shining as he talked about the different parts that needed restoring.

Arriving at the mall it became clear Dean really didn’t have any ideas on what to get either woman, so you offered various suggestions in the stores you were in.  Finally getting Jess done, Dean picked up a scarf you knew she wanted, and some fun picture frames to go on her collage wall.  His mom was proving trickier.  

“Any hobbies?” you asked, leaving the 6th different store. 

Dean thought for a moment, “She does like horror movies.”

“Yeah, I’m coming to realize you are all obsessed with monsters.  How about not for Christmas. Any place she mentioned she would want to go?”

He thought for a few minutes “Actually I heard her talking to Jess about a new place that opened up in town.”  When Dean finished telling you about you pulled out your phone to see if you could google it.  Finding what you needed you explained your idea to Dean and what you could get up here and what he would need to get once he was back in Kansas. 

With that  accomplished you two wandered around a few more stores looking for items to fill the rest of your lists.

Thursday was the next time you saw Dean, running into him in the apartments’ parking lot.  He was on his way to meet Sam for something.  Making small talk in the elevator, without thinking you asked something you didn’t really want to know.

“How’s Jo been?”

Dean gave you a funny look, “I don’t really know,  she hasn't been in the shop the last couple days.”

“Oh, I thought you might talk to her outside of work.”  What are you doing Y/N, do you really want to know this.  

“No. I don’t really have a reason to need to talk to the boss’s daughter outside of work.”

“Okay.  I have something in my apartment for you, I meant to drop off.  If you have time stop over before you leave.”

“Is it pie?”

“Sorry, not this time.”

When you got inside your apartment you went to check and see what ingredients you had in your cupboard. Finding pecans and a pack of crescent rolls you decided to whip up something quick.  A little over an hour later you heard a knock at your door.  Inviting Dean in you walked back over to the kitchen where the timer was going off.

“Something smells amazing.”

“I didn’t have any fruit to make a regular pie filling, but I did have some pecans I never used for the party, I made you a pecan pie bar, I hope it’s okay.”  You could almost see Dean’s mouth start to water.  “I’ll get you a fork and plate.”

“I don’t need a plate, the pan is fine.”

While Dean was eating you grabbed the item you picked up for him from the spare room.

“I know you don’t have a tree because you won’t be here for Christmas, but I thought you needed something.  Even if it’s not real.”  You had picked him up a little prelit tree and decorated it to have in his house.  

“It’s great, thanks Y/N.  You didn’t have to do that though.”  Dean gave you a hug as you set it down next to the pan of bars. 

“I know, I wanted to.  You can set it on that skinny table you have and set the presents underneath it after you wrap them.”

“Oh, that’s right I have to wrap them.  Hey sweetheart, do you think you might come over one night and help me with…”

“Seriously Winchester?  How would you ever make it without me, do you even have paper?” Laughing you agreed to come over Saturday and wrap what he had.  

“Of course I do.”

Knowing you were just hanging around the house and wrapping presents you put on yoga pants and a baggy sweatshirt to head to Dean’s knowing he would be hanging out in sweats by now too.  Sure enough he answered the door in a grey henley and black sweats.  The fireplace was on in the living room and with the presents and wrapping paper on the coffee table.  Dean ordered pizza and found Die Hard on tv.  He was sitting on the couch watching you work, when you looked up at him.

“Are you planning on helping me at all or just watching?”

“Which answer won’t get me in trouble?” The bitch face you sent his way might rival Sam’s.  “I was kidding, I was just watching how you do it.  Very nice wrapping by the way.”  The roll of wrapping paper flying at him barely missed his arm. 

Two presents into Dean wrapping, you knew why he wanted help.  When the pizza arrived you set him free. Finishing the last gift you leaned back against the couch rolling your shoulders to loosen them up after being hunched over.  Dean was sitting up on the couch behind you and  leaned down to rub your stiff shoulders. 

“Thanks for that.”

“Least I could do for you wrapping those.”  Before you left for the night you put the gifts under his tree best you could.

You spent the next week trying to catch up with your own Christmas shopping, get the cards in the mail, and trying to find time to just enjoy the Holidays.  Friday night you, Charlie, Meg and Jess donned your best ugly sweaters and leggings, spending the evening at your place vegging out and watching movies.  

You woke up early Saturday morning to head to Dean’s house before he left. Knocking on his door he was surprised to see you.

“I just wanted to stop over before you left.  I brought you some of the desserts to take to your parents house.”  You had given Dean a plate of them the weekend before when you came over to wrap.  “I expect those to make it to Kansas so you better put them in the trunk.”

“I don’t know sweetheart, I might need a snack for the road.  Eleven hours is a long trip.”

“I figured you would, there is a bag of the cherry pie cookies in there for you.”

“You are too good to me.”  Giving you a kiss on the cheek he walked past you to put them in his car while you followed him over. 

“Do you need help doing anything before you go?”

“I’m all set, car is loaded, just have to refill the coffee in my travel mug, wash the pot and lock up the house.  

Waiting while Dean finished with his coffee you walked out to the car with him.  “Have a safe trip, and Merry Christmas.  See you when you get back.”

“Thank you sweetheart.  Thanks for your help and the cookies. Have a Merry Christmas yourself.”  With a hug you walked to your own car watching the Impala drive away. 

You were definitely going to miss him this week. A little after one that afternoon you received a text from Dean saying he was in Springfield, Illinois and halfway there, he would text you when he arrived at his parents. Around seven, that text arrived along with a picture of a house you were guessing belonged to John and Mary. The two of you talked a few times over the week, he called later than usual Tuesday night, and seemed to be really down.  

On Christmas Eve you went to Mass with your family before heading to your parents house for dinner with your grandparents, some of your parents siblings, and cousins.  Games followed and a few hours later the house cleared out.  You spent the night there since you would be having Christmas morning there with your dad’s family.  Dean had texted you a few times throughout the day, Sam arrived today so you hoped he could help his brother with whatever was going on. 

Christmas morning you sent Dean a text before helping your mom with breakfast.  Your dad’s family spent the morning at the house before heading elsewhere for the afternoon.  Your mom’s family started coming over around 2, they stayed for dinner and games.  You loved your family but were glad to have an empty house spending time with your parents when everyone was gone.

That evening you went back to your apartment.  Sitting on the couch looking at your Christmas tree you saw a big gift bag Jess had dropped off before leaving town.  She told you you couldn’t open it till Christmas, that was now right?  Grabbing it you brought it back to the couch with you. 

First you pulled out a big oddly wrapped lump, unwrapping it you found a Chocolate Lab plush.  He reminded you of your dog you had growing up. The next item was a t-shirt that had you cracking up.  In the bottom of the bag was a card.

Y/N, 

I think this goes to show what we both already knew, I can’t wrap worth a damn.  This guy reminded me of the pictures I have seen in your apartment.  He might not be able to follow you around, or bark at strangers, but hopefully he can keep you company.  I got a laugh out of the shirt and I hope you do too.    

Merry Christmas Sweetheart,

Dean

  Dean called you later that evening.

“Hi, Merry Christmas Dean.”

“Merry Christmas to you Y/N.  How was your day?”

“It was good.  Scooby and I are relaxing back home now.”

“Good, um who’s Scooby?”

“This really cute chocolate lab plush that my good friend got me.  Thank you Dean, he’s great.”

“Not a problem Sweetheart. Glad you like him, Scooby?”

“That was my dog's name growing up, I was a big Scooby Doo fan.  Still am”

He started laughing, “So was I.  Yeah, I wouldn’t rush to change the channel if it was on now either.”

 The two of you talked more about your days.   He was ready to leave, but Sam and Jess were riding back with him, and he didn’t want to pull them away yet.  Something happened while he was home, he didn’t sound like himself.  If you had to guess it was why he called you Tuesday night.  You wondered if you would find out what that was.

Part 5

Thank you for reading!

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#Falling For You #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #Dean x Female Reader

[albertasunrise]

Should Have Listened

Summary: Frankie’s a little worse off after the helicopter crash than the group first realise and now that they are stuck walking to the boat with all this money and no mode of transport. How many of them are going to make it home?

Warnings: Angst, Blood and injury,

Characters: Frankie Morales, Ben Miller, Will Miller, Santiago Garcia and Tom Davis.

~

Benny watched in horror as the helicopter jumped and spun on the ground, its inhabitants being thrown around like rag-dolls within. The younger Miller brothers stomach twisted as he sprinted towards the aircraft as it finally stilled, feeling his heart in his throat as he silently prayed everyone was okay whilst he ducked and covered to protect himself from the snapped rotors that threw up debris in their wake.

‘Fish! Fish!.’ He shouted as he made it to the front of the craft, his stomach twisting upon seeing his best friend hang there limply and he kicked the window in as he frantically tries to rescue him.

He could hear his brother calling for him ‘I’m here!’ He shouted back as he helped Tom climb out first before helping Frankie, his stomach twisting more when the man stumbled on his feet ‘Fish?’

‘I’m okay.’ he replied as he steadied himself, shaking his head a little in an attempt to clear the fog from his brain.

‘You sure?’ Asked Benny, studying the cut along his cheek.

‘Yeah.’ He replied with a nod, inwardly wincing at the pain that movement brought.

Everyone made quick work of gathering what supplies they could carry out of the helicopter, Benny busy fussing over his brother when he finally managed to jump out the craft with Pope right behind him.

‘They’re getting into the net.’ Stated Tom as he watched their cargo get pilfered by the villagers a few hundred feet away.

‘What’s the plan here?’ Asked Santi as he carefully slipped out of the helicopter, his weapon in hand.

‘We’re gonna get that money over that mountain and to the ocean.’ Stated Tom ‘Benny, cover us from under that tree line there.’ He ordered as he pointed to where he meant ‘Fish, you take position up there.’ He motioned in the opposite direction ‘That’s cocaine they’re growing so the may have weapons trained on us from those buildings right there.’

‘We got working radios?’ Questioned Benny as he and Santi kitted up.

‘No, comms are dead.’ He replied as he replenished his ammunition.

‘Go with hand signals. Pope and I will get out there and look as peaceful as we can.’ He pauses as he attempted to catch his breath, the adrenaline starting to wear off and revealing how exhausted the older man was ‘We’ll give you a hand signal when we think it’s secure.’

‘Let’s move.’ Ordered Frankie as he sprinted off to his position, the pain in his head now a constant throb as he positioned himself amongst the tall grass and watched as Tom and Pope tried to talk the villagers down.

He watched the villagers as they swarmed the net, tugging at its contents as his companions approached them. A sudden, intense, pang of pain erupted at the back of his head and he grabbed at it by instinct. Something warm, wet and sticky soaked his hair and he pulled his hand away to find it painted red.

‘Shit.’ He breathed, wiping the blood on his shirt.

He watched as the confrontation with the villagers started to get heated, his heart speeding up as he reached for his comm.

‘Pope, what’s he reaching for? Is that a weapon?’ He paused, waiting for his comrade to respond ‘Pope, do you cop—‘ He stopped when he remembered the comms weren’t working, sparing a glance and the useless equipment before taking his weapon in both hands again.

He squinted as he tried to better see what was going on down below, the shouting getting louder as villagers appeared to start stepping closer to Tom and Pope. When he noticed Redfly pull his weapon and shoot he did not hesitate to open fire himself, his only thought to keep his friends alive. He was on his feet in an instant, ignoring the wave of dizziness that hit him as he started to sprint across the valley towards the village.

‘Benny, get these people back up toward the village.’ Ordered Tom, handgun still drawn as he watched the villagers weep and scream at them all ‘Fish, get this money on some mules. Let’s get the fuck out of here.’

‘Get back.’ Frankie shouted in Spanish, his weapon trained on two young boys as he took small, certain, steps towards the village.

~

Frankie was never one to be afraid of heights but as he scaled the side of this mountain, the path narrow and treacherous he could safely say, he was terrified. He rolled his eyes at the sound of the Miller brothers arguing, willing the two of them to get moving as his mule started to grow uneasy.

‘Just shut up and Concentrate! Jesus Christ!’ He shouts, willing his Mule to move.

‘Come on, just go.’ Ordered Will as he looked at his animal.

‘Fuck you.’ Spat Benny as he glared back at his brother, Will shouting back as Frankie attempted to calm his panicking Mule.

He desperately tried to get the creature to move forward but it leapt forwards and backwards in fear as the ground started to give way beneath its hooves. Its frightened screams began to spook the others and Will tried to calm his own mule as the ground finally crumbled completely, sending Fish’s mule plummeting down the mountainside and pulling Frankie to the ground with a slam. Star’s danced in front of his eyes as his brain started to swim, completely unaware of the argument going on in front of him as his vision started to grey at the edges.

‘Fish?’ Questioned Benny when he noticed his friend hadn’t gotten up ‘Will what’s up with Fish?’

Will turned around to see Frankie laying on the ground, his arm dangling over the ledge and his eyes glassy. He roughly tied his mule to his brothers and carefully made his way to Frankie’s side, pulling the man into his arms so he could inspect him.

‘Hey Fish, can you hear me?’

Frankie didn’t answer. His eyelids started to droop as he began to lose the battle to stay conscious, despite his friend's frantic shaking.

‘No... No no no no keep your eyes open man.’ Will begged, shaking Fish’s shoulder desperately.

‘What are his injuries?’ Shouted Tom from the front, not a spec of worry in his tone.

Will started to inspect his friend. Noting the obvious trauma to his cheek he pulled off his worn cap and started to feel around Fish’s hairline, hissing when his fingers met with the back of his head.

‘Fuck!’ He shouted loudly, slapping the ground and kicking up dust in the air beside him.

‘What?’ Barked Benny, his tone panicked as he tried to see his brother and friend.

‘He has a contusion to the back of his head, bleeding pretty bad.’

‘Shit!’ Shouted Benny.

‘Calm down.’ Ordered Tom, his tone calm and collected ‘Will do you think he can walk?’

‘He’s barely conscious Redfly.’ He replied, noting that Frankie was looking up at him through slits ‘No. No, he can’t walk.’

‘We should ditch some money and strap him to one of the mules.’ Growls Benny, looking at his brother who’s still working on rousing Fish.

‘Right Pope, hold onto Benny’s mule. Benny, help Ironhead strap Frankie to his beast.’

Benny wasted no time getting to his brother’s side, his previous fear of being on the side of a mountain had almost completely disappeared as he sank to Fish’s side.

‘Fuck. Fish come on buddy.’ He pleaded, tapping the man's cheek ‘Open those big brown eyes for us eh.’

Frankie said nothing but his eyes did open a little more, the action eliciting a smile from the Miller brothers.

‘That’s it, Buddy.’ Said the younger brother as he gave his arm a squeeze.

Frankie gave them a small smile, a moment of recognition before his eyes rolled back and he went limp in Will’s arms.

‘Fish?’ Benny shook his friend, sobbing as his head lolled to the side.

‘He needs a hospital man.’ Says Will under his breath to his brother ‘This could be bad.’

Ben simply nodded before getting to his feet and tugging a few bags of cash off his brother's mule’s back. Between the two of them, they managed to strap Frankie to the animal's saddle and made their way off of the mountain. After a short while, they reached a vast cliff face that was littered with large boulders at his base.

‘How the fuck are we going to get the money and Frankie up that?’ Growled Benny as he threw pope a venomous look.

‘We’ll pull the cash up first and then haul Fish up after.’ Stated Redfly, motioning for the others to do as he bid ‘Benny, stay with Fish. Will, Pope, get up there and start pulling up the cash.’

Everyone did as ordered. Ben stayed at his best friends side, his worry getting worse when Fish made no signs of waking. He monitored his vitals, noting his breathing was getting more laboured and his pulse getting weaker.

‘Come on Fish.’ He begged, taking his friend's hand ‘Hold on man.’

Finally, when the money was hauled to the top they went back for Frankie, using one of the nets as a stretcher and carefully pulling him up and over the rocky terrain. When they managed to make camp, Pope went about treating his friend, pulling out what medical equipment he was able to salvage from the wrecked chopper. Placing the oxygen monitor onto Fish’s finger he frowned at the results it gave him.

‘Well?’ Questioned Benny, watching Pope as he worked.

‘He oxygen is reading 85% and his pulse is weak.’ He stated, giving Benny a grim look ‘If we don't get him to a hospital soon I don't think he’s going to last much longer.’

‘What-‘

Ben was interrupted by Frankie’s whole body going rigid, his body starting to convulse as a seizure took hold.

‘Fuck!’ Growled Pope as he watched his friend fit at his feet, knowing there was nothing he could do but wait for it to pass.

‘The fuck is going on?’ Shouted Tom, his tone a little irritated from Santi’s curse.

‘Frankie’s having a fucking Seizure.’ He spat back, eyes fixed on his friend.

‘Shit.’ Growled Tom as he stood, watching as Fish’s body stilled and his muscles relaxed ‘What are his chances?’

‘What the fuck kind of question is that?’ Growled Ben as he stood.

‘I need to know what the situation is.’

‘The situation is that if you had fucking listened to Fish in the first place he wouldn’t on death’s door right now.’ He spat, venom dripping from every word ‘He said there was a weight issue but you were too blinded by greed.’ He took a step forward as his eyes bore into his commanding office ‘This is your fault, Tom.’ He finished, pointing at Frankie’s unconscious form ‘You better hope he makes it or I’ll kill you myself.’

~

Chapter 2

#frankie morales #Frankie Morales Fanfiction #francisco morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #Ben Miller #will miller #Will 'Ironhead' Miller #Santiago Garcia #santiago 'pope' garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal characters #Pedro pascal #garrett hedlund #Garrett hedlund fanfiction #charlie hunman #Charlie human fanction #Oscar Isaac #Oscar Isaac Fanfiction

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme

~^~

Friday, 19:24

Song: Miss Benny - Rendezvous

Lucas sits alone at the table, an empty dinner plate in front of him, when he hears the door open and footsteps make their way down the hall. He stands up and is in the process of dumping his plate in the sink when his father comes into the kitchen. He smiles tiredly at Lucas as he deposits his keys on the counter, shrugging off his blazer and laying it over the back of a chair. “Hey, kiddo, sorry I’m late.”

Lucas bristles, but doesn’t pause in his process of turning the tap on and beginning to rinse off his dishes. He purses his lips and says, “I left your food in the oven to keep it warm but I don’t think that works for almost two hours, so you should probably reheat it.”

Lucas wouldn’t consider himself rude. He can maintain a quiet anger, hold onto a grudge, be relatively ruthless if the situation requires it, but he isn’t rude. For the majority of people he meets, he can portray a simple politeness, can keep himself in check. He considers himself relatively patient. He can bide his time and hold his tongue.

Except for when it comes to Hugo Van Der Heijden.

When it comes to his father, Lucas has very little patience, and is even worse at holding his tongue.

He rolls his eyes now as the man thanks him, grateful that he isn’t facing him, and scrubs harder at the plate in his hands. Hugo moves his dinner from the oven to the microwave as Lucas sets his plate aside and shakes out his hands, wiping them with a towel before heading for the door.

His dad calling his name stops him, and he sends a tired glance to the ceiling before turning around. Hugo has sat himself at the table. His expression is a complicated mix of exhaustion and apology as he gestures at the chair across from him. “Really, Lucas, I’m sorry I’m late. I know I promised we’d have dinner today. Can you just sit down with me for, five minutes? Tell me what school is like?”

Lucas considers him for a moment, then lets out a breath through his nose. He sits at the table and watches his dad smile.

“So, how have you been doing? Have you made any friends yet?”

Lucas swallows. He thinks of all the time he’s spent under that one oak tree in a quiet corner of the yard to eat his lunch, or the back table in the library, or the basement bathrooms. He’s spoken to a few people in his classes, to ask about the topics he’d missed and take a few photos of notes to copy. A few people have struck up conversations with him in the minutes before a class starts, or as they stand at their locker a few columns away from Lucas. Lucas has learnt a few faces and fewer names but he hasn’t really made any friends.

“I’m still getting to know people,” he says simply.

His dad nods, hopping up to collect his plate when the microwave beeps. Lucas passes him the knife and fork he’d left out earlier and is rewarded with another smile and thanks. “And, do you like any of these people? Any pretty girls in your classes?”

Lucas bristles again. He can’t help it. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t his dad’s fault, that he just doesn’t know. But it shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t assume. Lucas is tired of everyone assuming. He’s tired of everything in his life being decided for him. He’s tired of his dad being at the center of it. “No, everyone’s hideous, I have no idea why you brought me here.”

Hugo huffs tiredly. “Okay, point taken, we don’t talk about crushes. What are your teachers like, then?”

“They’re fine. They teach.”

“And you’re finding your studies okay? You haven’t been left behind in anything?”

“They’re fine.”

Hugo sighs and sets his utensils down, rubbing a hand over his face. Lucas tenses his shoulders in preparation for the lecture he’s surely about to get. “I know it’s not ideal, Lucas. I understand that you’re probably upset with me. But eventually you’ll understand I’m only trying to do what’s best.”

Lucas can’t bite back his scoff. “So leaving Mom, dragging me away from all my friends, making me move school after I’ve just started my last year, that’s what’s best?”

“What else would you have wanted me to do, Lucas? You know your mother isn’t in a position to take care of you right now.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Son, you’re seventeen.”

“So? You can be mature at seventeen. What do I have to do? Cook, clean up, do the washing. Everything that I do here anyway. I could’ve moved in with Liv and Jayden. One of their roommates moved out to go to college anyway.”

Hugo gives another tired huff, shaking his head. “You want to convince me you’re mature enough to take care of yourself by acting out and suggesting moving in with Jayden?”

“Acting out? How am I acting out?” Lucas bursts, sitting up in his seat. “I get up and I go to school and I come home and make your fucking dinner. How would you even know if I was acting out when you’re never even here? How is it any different to what it’d be like if you’d just let me stay with Mom?”

“If you were staying with your mother right now, you really would drive her crazy,” Hugo snaps back.

Lucas freezes.

They’ve had this argument so many times. They’ve never taken it there before.

Hugo seems to instantly regret his words, dropping his hand to reach across the table, towards Lucas. Lucas flinches away from him, pushing his chair back. “Luc,” his dad says gently, “I didn’t mean—“

“I know what you meant,” Lucas cuts him off. “And if I’m so much of a problem for you, I really don’t understand why you want me here.”

His father looks pained. “Lucas, stop. Let’s talk about this properly.”

“I think we’ve talked enough.” Lucas pushes himself to his feet and is surprised at how unsteady he feels. He hadn’t realised his hands were shaking. He curls them into fists in an attempt to stop their trembles and alleviate some of the pressure in his chest. Maybe if he applies pressure somewhere else, it won’t feel so overwhelming. It won’t make him feel like he’s drowning.

“Son, sit down. If you want to prove you’re mature then—“

“Fuck you,” Lucas spits. “Just—enough. I hate you for leaving her. I hate you for taking me with you. I hate you.”

Hugo slumps. “Lucas—“

Lucas doesn’t wait around to hear anymore. He rushes down the hallway to his room and slams and locks the door behind him. He leans against it, banging his head lightly back against the wood as he squeezes his eyes shut. He sucks in a breath and it comes out ragged, choked with emotion and wet with held-back tears. He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and tries to bring his breathing under control, doing the exercises Liv had taught him long ago. In for four, hold for four, out for four. Your mind is a stream. Set your unwanted thoughts on the leaves drifting past. Let them go. Keep moving on.

It doesn’t do much, at least in regards to his thoughts. There are too many of them to sort through and watch pass, all unwanted, all overwhelming. His breathing is still uneven. He sits on the floor in front of his bed and drops his head between his knees, locking his hands behind it.

He focuses on the breathing part of his mantra until his lungs are cooperating again, then lifts his head enough to hide his face in his hands. He’s horrified to realise the tops of his cheeks are wet, where a few tears have slipped out unnoticed. He knows it’s just the anxiety, the lack of breath, that forced them out, but there’s nothing he hates more than crying.

He quickly wipes the dampness away as he tries to sort himself out. He wants to believe his father didn’t mean it like that, wasn’t placing Lucas as responsible for any of it, but it’s difficult. It’s always been a niggling thought in his mind, that automatic, self-centered response that let him believe in his childhood years that his mother’s illness was somehow his fault. It’s hard not to think of it as a possibility, when it only seemed to manifest a few years after he was born and escalated in his early teens.

Regardless of whether he should feel any guilt or not, he’s always done his best to make things easier, for her. He’s always tried to make sure she didn’t have to worry about him.

His dad had always been the one to tell him to give himself a break, to loosen up a bit and let himself go. Adamant that his mother wasn’t Lucas’s responsibility. That she was a fully grown adult, capable of taking care of herself, with a fully dedicated husband to be there when she couldn’t.

Only, Hugo turned out to be the one to not want the responsibility. To be overwhelmed. To abandon.

Even now, Lucas thinks he should have fought more. That if he’d just been more persistent, he wouldn’t have been forced to leave. He could have stayed and taken care of her. Or at least, he could be there to make sure she wasn’t alone.

Only, that wasn’t even his plan. He’d wanted to take it as the perfect excuse to move into the flatshare with his friends. His thoughts had been solely focused on himself, and what he would do if he was ripped away from his home and his school and his friends. What he would do if he had to stay and could barely buy himself food, and if he would be mocked now for being the kid with the crazy mother.

He’d hated himself for the thought then, and he’s constantly trying to make up for it now. It’s something Kes had always told him. That your first thought is only an automatic response—what you’ve been doctored to think. It’s the thought that comes after that matters—the realisation that the initial reaction was wrong, once you’ve had a chance to form your own opinion. Lucas had appreciated it the first time Kes told him that. He had, and still has, many of those ingrained thought processes. The idea that it’s simply an impulse reaction makes him feel like less of a bad person. He’s only bad initially because of society’s influence. It makes sense that he’d looked at his mother in the middle of her episode and thought ‘crazy’. It’s what he’d been programmed to think. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love her. It doesn’t mean he’s a bad son. It doesn’t mean it was fair for him to be taken away.

It isn’t fair. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t.

Does he?

He thinks about calling Kes, now. Now that his chest no longer feels trapped in a vice grip, now that his mind has mostly stopped racing, now that his stomach isn’t heaving. He thinks calling Kes might actually make him feel worse. Not only will it remind him of how much he misses him, it’ll drive him crazy with the support. Because Kes will always support him and comfort him and right now, Lucas wants it too much and isn’t deserving enough.

Besides, it’s a Friday evening. Night, really, by this stage. Kes is probably out having fun. With Jayden, maybe, or Isa, or a whole group. He isn’t going to want to babysit Lucas. Lucas doesn’t want to ruin his night.

It’s a Friday night. He should be out having fun. Partying. With friends he doesn’t have.

He slips his phone out of his pocket and opens Instagram, navigating to his messages. He taps on one of his older conversations, looking at the message he got on Wednesday afternoon.

_amberxje: Hey Lucas, it’s Amber! I was trying to find you at school but I left it too late before class and you must have went home straight away. But there’s a party on Friday night that I wanted to invite you to. It’s technically a college party, but we’re very close to those hosting it, and I think it’d be lovely if you come! It’s a great way to meet new people :)

It was more than probably necessary, but maybe less than Lucas had expected. Amber had seemed like a talkative girl. While Lucas doesn’t really do talkative, he was glad of it that first day and he’s glad of it now. Amber has already sent him the address.

He’ll wait until his dad disappears to his room, usually sometime after nine, and then he’ll quietly head out.

A party might just be the best way to take his mind off of things.

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

[yamithediaperdork]

My Cousin is CRAZY! (Ben10 alien force)

My cousin is crazy

It was Saturday morning in Bellwood and 15 year old Ben Tennyson was slowly waking up to the smell of bacon and eggs. It was strange because his parents were on a vegan kick at the moment but he decided to roll with it and opened his eyes as he went to sit up. And then groaned out loud as he took in stock of his attire and what he was sleeping in. Not for the first time since Gwen had started working out hardcore last year the girlish Ben had found his cousin perv'ing on him and deciding he should be her sissy baby wife. Despite making his lack of interest in such plans clear MORE then once, It hadn't of stopped Gwen from snagging him up at random times and dressing him up. Case and point, he was currently in what he estimated as 5 princess reaz's diapers (he'd sadly become familiar with the different brands because of Gwen) and a dark pink top with lighter pink puffed out shoulders and a semi skirt that didn't even cover half of the diapers. The top also had a red heart on the front with white writing in cursive declaring 'i wove my mommy' going along with the top and diapers his hands were in locking mittens meaning any attempt to use the omnitrix was doomed to fail and his feet covered in booties with slick bottoms so Ben would end up having to crawl unless he wanted to fall on his ass every 12 steps. 'At least she didn't put the paci in my mouth this time.' Ben thought with a sulky though a pat on his head told him she had put the silly over sized bow in his hair again, the damn thing pink with white poka dots. As for what he was in, again this wasn't a shock to him as it wasn't the first time but he was still less then pleased to have gone to sleep in his own bed in a pair of boxers and wake up in the hot pink crib Gwen had built just for him during her wood shop class. And of course since she wasn't shy of telling people who it was for Ben had been forced to endure even more teasing at school though ironically just verbal, no bullies had darned to lay a finger on him and have to deal with Gwen's almost super human power and bulk. The last bully who had tried had been found hanging from a flag pole by a pair of Barbie pants. Struggling to get to his feet on the purple sheet covered queen sized mattress and ignoring the fuzzy white and pink blanket and pillows in the crib with him (not to mention a dolly or too) Ben took in a deep breath and then hollered at the opened door frame of Gwen's room. "GWEN YOU SICK BITCH! YOU'VE BEEN TOLD TO STOP KIDNAPPING ME AND DRESSING ME IN DRAG AND HUGGIES! COME IN HERE AND LET ME OUT OF THIS OUTFIT BEFORE I GET YOU IN SHIT WITH YOURS AND MINE PARENTS AND GRANDPA MAX TOO!" It was the only threat that normally worked as while they're parents thought it was mostly cute, they all agreed that Gwen kidnapping Ben crossed a line. other then that though it was fair game if he was out of the house. Grandpa Max was nicer about it in Ben's view as he made the rust bucket a official safe zone that even Gwen respected and so Ben found himself hanging out less with Gwen and Kevin and more with Gramps. Kevin for his part was all too happy to stay out of it, treating the whole thing as a bullet dodged when him and Gwen had never hit it off and a better Ben then him. Ben didn't have to wait long as he swore he could almost feel the food steps of Gwen as she made her way towards the room.

Between the insane amount of weights she worked and the reps she put into and a unexpected growth spurt Gwen looked like she could of been a WWE at her 6'10 height and 320 pounds of mostly muscle. She kept her Orange hair short and was wearing a pair of grey jogging pants and white under shirt that showed off her girl abs. "Awww is my darling widdle wife to be awake?" She coo'ed, cupping her hands together and flashing Ben a big smile. "Gwen, for the LAST time, I'm not going to marry you. I'm not going to be your sissy baby, now PLEASE let me go. I'm not joking, I'll call Grandpa Max over and get you in SO much trouble." Ben huffed, trying to look intimidating but his outfit made that all but impossible. "Awww such a silly widdle gurl! Did widdle Benny forget that this is our parents couples retreat weekend? And gramp's is off on Plumber work! That means I got widdle Benny to myself allll weekend." Gwen gushed and came over, lifting him out of the crib with ease and holding him up so she could give his padded rump a sniff. "Ah crap baskets..That was THIS weekend?" Ben whined, not even bothering to point out he would of said something if he had used the diapers. He'd tried to make plans to hang out with cooper for that weekend but had clearly gotten his dates wrong and was capital S screwed for the next 48 hours. "Hmm Doesn't smell like Benny has made me a present yet..but I know you will soon enough. you just love to make presents for your hubby don't you?" Gwen coo'ed and moved him down enough she could give him a Eskimo kiss. "Oh yeah. highlight of my weekend, fudging a diaper." Ben said sarcastically. "Now now, I know you're just grumpy because you didn't get to play with me last night, but I had to take care of a few things. But we have allll weekend sweetie. And if you promise to be a good little gurl for me I'll be nice and spoil you with all the junk food you want. After all you need to put on some baby fat." Gwen chuckled and kissed his cheek. Ben groaned, Gwen was always trying to chub him up, but given the fact he'd been subjected to the 'wonder's' of a baby food and formula weekend before, and the fact he was trapped regardless he just hung his head. "Fine, I'll play along. but for the record, you need help." Ben huffed. "Oh please, I can handle my widdle wife for a weekend!" Gwen chuckled and carried Ben off towards the kitchen.

Strapped into a wooden but painted light pink high chair, Ben played along with his crazy cousin and held up his arms so she could remove his top and replace it with a hello kitty bib. "Now Benny, if I remove your mitten's and let you feed yourself, you're not gonna do something stupid and try and use your silly little watch now are you?" Gwen asked. Considering between her bulk and her magic Gwen out classed most of Ben's aliens anyways and she always made sure he was sorry for trying to go alien on her after he timed out, Ben decided that having the freedom to feed himself was worth playing along. "Yeah I'll be good.." Ben said and held up his hands. She studied his face for a second, as if deciding whether or not to trust him then smiled. "I believe you. I really hope we can have a nice weekend together and I don't end up having to spank you. it hurts me then it does you when I have to." Gwen said then moved to free up Ben's hands. 'Bullshit on that one!' Ben thought but wisely kept his thoughts to himself and just flexed his fingers, and looked at the watch. "I'm not going alien, I'm just checking to make sure no alien got primed to go while the mitten on so I don't accidentally go alien and get my cheeks tanned." He said, and then after getting a smirk and a nod from Gwen checked the watch. Thankfully nothing was primed and he made sure to show the psycho and then wiggled in the high chair as he waited on her to plate up some num nums for him. Everything else aside, Gwen really was a excellent cook and she didn't hold back as she put the piled high plate of scrambled eggs and Bacon and some pancakes down in front of Ben and handed him a baby fork and knife. She had also poured on the maple syrup and set down a one liter baby bottle full of chocolate milk for him and kissed his cheek. "Eat up little lady.Oh, did you want me to put a show or something on for you while you eat up? I think Sumo slammers is having a marathon on channel 6 today." Gwen asked, nodding to the Kitchen TV her mom had had put in back during the 90's. "..That would be agreeable yes." Ben said, trying not to break out into a silly grin before he started to dig into the food, watching as Gwen was proven right. 'you know.. the huggies and drag aside, I could get used to being spoiled like this.' Ben thought.

Gwen smirked as she watched Ben chow down and kick his legs ideally in the high chair. while she would of preferred he watch something a little less violent she had changed up her usual plan for weekend sessions with her soon to be sissy bride. Trying to enforce the baby food and sissy programs only made him fight it more so she was gonna meet him halfway and try to ease him more into baby gurlhood. One added bonus though she noticed with a big grin while she had her normal bowl of high protein gruel was that Ben was even more of a messy eater then normal as he watched his show, getting syrup all over his face and bib and eggs and bits of bacon were all over the place. 'He's such a big baby! I love it!' She mentally squealed. It only got better as halfway though his plate, he reached for his his ba-ba and held it with BOTH hands like a good baby gurl and she was fighting the urge to squeal out loud. Anytime she tended to praise him for his babyish behavior he always tried to cut it out. Finishing her gruel she washed it down with a protein drink and noted that Ben was squirming around lots in his high chair, with most of his food gone and the little sissy had packed away HALF of his milk already. "Doing alright over there baby gurl?" She asked. Ben seemed to snap out of his show induced trance and blushed. "I uh..I gonna potty..and I think I got a gas bubble stuck." He said, poking two fingers together. '..Is he asking me to burp him?' Gwen wondered but was ALL grin's "Well that's no good! here, let me help you out. whats a little gas between husband and wife?" She said. Coming over she grabbed a dish towel and a wet dish rag, putting the towel over one shoulder and then moved Ben's num num's and ba-ba over onto the kitchen table and removed his bib. washing the big baby's face and chest down she removed the tray and lifted him up, swooning as his legs wrapped around her and he helped her get his head over the towel. Rubbing his back she gave it all of three firm but gentle pats before Ben let out a massive belch over her shoulder and spit up a little bit of milk. "Uh...T-Thanks Gwen." A sheepish Ben half coo'ed and then switched shoulders and nuzzled into her. "Do you want me to set you down so you can go and hide while you make potty?" She offered, clearly trying to meet him half way was working wonders. "I..I Uh..no." Ben Mewed into her shoulder, which of course muffled his voice but she got the jest of it. "You wanna use your diapers while your bride to be holds you tight and praises you for being a good girl?" Gwen asked, grinning ear to ear and holding Ben close and rubbing his lower back. "I..I dunno..Maybe..I mean..If I can't use the potty..I guess it's.." Ben Mumbled into her shoulder, She could tell he'd of rather used the bathroom, which was a touch disappointing to her but still, with him willing to go in his pampers while she held him being his second choice that meant she was making headwind. "Do you wanna keep your face in my big strong shoulder or be turned around facing away from my?" She asked, then leaned down and kissed his neck, knowing from Julie (who had dumped Ben mostly because she shipped the pair) just how much he loved having his neck kissed and nibbled on. Case and point Ben didn't even really reply, just snuggled into her harder. Taking that as a answer Gwen made her way over to a kitchen chair and took a seat, Ben's legs on either side of her lap and his arms hugging her, while one of her strong hands rubbed and patted his pampered bottom. Her other hand was rubbing and pressing on certain spots on Ben's back and it didn't take loud before her efforts were rewarded as a muffled poot came out his backside, then anther and anther and she could feel him starting to push and grunt. "That's it baby gurl, let it all out. make me a nice big present." Gwen coo'ed sweetly in his ear and follow up with giving him a gentle start of a hickey on his neck as he began to fill his pretty pink diapers. "G-Gwen! Dun! N-Not while I'm pooping!" Ben meekly whimpered, though he tilted his head in such a fashion that he was offering her a even better shot at his neck. "Heh, Somebodies gonna be a tsundere diaper sissy for me huh? That's ok. I think it's adorable." Gwen chuckled, feeling the lumps of Ben's 'present' to her fill up the back of his diapers and mentally giving thanks to whatever mage had made the spell that allowed her to only smell strawberries in cream as Ben loaded his huggies. 'Maybe if he's a good gurl at our wedding, on our honeymoon I'll cast it on him too.' Gwen thought. Food for thought later, She had a good little gurl dumping his guts in his pampers for her and whimpering for his reward and as such, she leaned down and started to gently nibble and suck away on Ben's neck, smirking as the little sissy let out a soft "I love you.." as she did so.

The end