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sunsh1n3s · 3 months

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— make it up. ( don hume x reader )

a.n. nurse reader is inspired by bedside manner by snappleapple on ao3. i’m studying to be a nurse and the idea was cute when i read it, so credits to them for sparking my interest :)

contains. fem!reader, swearing, sick fic, also very long i apologize i couldn’t stop writing ideas

“boys, this is your nurse, y/n. she will be here during majority of the practices if you have any pain or anything concerning to your performances. please go to her, she’s kind, she doesn’t bite.” coach ulbrickson spoke, gesturing to y/n who walked forward.

the guys couldn’t help but check her out, the action didn’t go unnoticed. y/n cleared her throat and stood next to bobby. “like you listen to your coaches and bobby, you will listen to me. anything i instruct will be beneficial for your performances and health. trust me with what i have to order, i’ve been doing this for two years now. i’ve been here longer than you guys have on the team and im in medical school, i know i have an idea with what you deal with.” she spoke.

stern, pretty, and kind. it took the guys’ attention, and like every year; they would try and flirt with her.

throughout the ongoing practices and races, y/n was seen beside the coaches. she spoke with them on training and things to heal the team, or work their muscles. she had her own small room alongside the coaches, and the boys always hobbled their way to her. along with the cries of sore arms and sprained muscles, calluses, and headaches; flirting that never touched y/n’s heart followed.

bobby stood in y/n’s office, watching as she wrapped his hand. “has anyone given up on trying to woo you yet?” he asked. the two were bonded due to the years bobby had been there, and her main focus on the varsity boys. “nobody has given up yet- but one hasn’t even dared to try.” y/n informed. bobby and y/n shared a look, “don. he hardly talks, let alone to girls.” bobby teased while y/n snickered.

“they keep asking me if we’re together.” bobby rolled his eyes, making her laugh again. “jealousy over their own cox. i’ve heard that story before.” she joked. letting him go, bobby stopped at the doorway. “i think donny is pretty head over heels though-” “oh get out.”

shaking her head and cleaning up, y/n looked back out the window and saw don walking into the locker room. bobby’s words came to mind, but she couldn’t. it was her team, her patients, she wouldn’t.

for the next months, don didn’t hear the end of it when bobby caught his stroke staring at the nurse. eventually the boys stopped because they noticed their quiet guy head over heels. it was new, and boys will be boys, so they never let don’s crush on her down.

so when it was time to get her for the train to berlin, don was the one to get her.

placing her two suitcases on her bed, y/n packed for the quick and eventful trip; clothes, uniform, accessories, and whatever she needed for schoolwork. her medical boss had packed a bag of necessities, knowing once they signed her as the nurse for the team, she’d be set with whatever else she needed.

y/n wore her uniform to match the guys’ professionalism. though she preferred her comfortable clothes, she wanted to look nice.

a knock at her door stopped her from her packing, “come in.” she spoke softly, turning to the door once it opened. she didn’t expect to see a guy, let alone don hume. it took y/n by surprise that don hume was upstairs, surpassing a strict dormitory director and several girls; just to get to y/n’s room.

“hello don.” she greeted with a soft smile, folding up the last of her clothes and placing them in the suitcase. “hi.” he said, slightly awkward. he stood with his hands behind his back, not knowing where to stand or sit. y/n looked at him again, “go ahead and get comfortable. who’d you fight to get in here?” she questioned. she closed her suitcase and started getting to the other, adjusting the books and case for her writing utensils.

“i didn’t have to fight thankfully. ms stevens is stubborn though. uh- we wanted to share with you- uh a hat. the guys and i- since you’re our nurse.” don said, moving his hands forward to show the hat that matched their uniform. y/n looked at it and smiled at him, “oh that’s so sweet. thank you.” she thanked. he nodded and handed it to her.

“what’s medical school like?” don asked, sitting awkwardly at her vanity chair. y/n smiled, “it’s interesting. i enjoy it. i think because i’ve always wanted to help people. but with now my grades excelling and everything, i get to help you guys. i’ve had to learn a new course to treat you guys. i’m practically a physical therapist alongside being a nurse.” she spoke.

she walked over to her heels and put them on, walking in front of don. “how do i look, mr. hume?” she asked. she turned to grab and put on the hat before posing for him. don was breathless and she smiled softly at him. “beautiful.” he spoke. she beamed, “thank you.” she said, shocked at how much the compliment touched her heart.

there was another knock at the door, both straightened and y/n finished packing. coach ulbrickson walked in, looking at don with slight question but brushing it off. “y/n, you ready?” he asked, checking his watch and looking at her softly. y/n nodded, closing her other suitcase and grabbing her medical bag.

“hume.” coach motioned, don realized and quickly yet gently grabbed her suitcases. she smiled at him and they followed coach out of the girls dormitory.

little cheers from the guys came down the hallway once they noticed don with the suitcases, causing him to go red and for y/n to shake her head.

boarding the train was a hassle, y/n and don rushed in. reporters yelling questions about the two at them, and girls giving glares at y/n. “god i’m just a nurse!” she yelled out the door. y/n turned on the balls of her feet and walked down to a train seat. she placed her bag in one bench and don placed the rest beside it.

y/n turned to him, “thank you don, i owe you.” she said. he shook his head, “nah you don’t-” “i insist. i’ll make it up to you somehow.” she spoke. he couldn’t argue so he nodded and bid his goodbyes. y/n relaxed in her quiet evening as they traveled while he returned to the guys; getting teased for being a gentleman.

he returned later to see her asleep, she was bunched to keep warm. don frowned and retrieved a blanket for her, his blanket. she dealt with eighteen boys daily, and soon nine in a new country. she deserved rest and comfort.

that night, he slept cold while she slept comfortable and warm. he could care less.

berlin, something new for the team. the ten students and coaches followed directions and ignored reporters. questions were shot at the coaches and y/n.

they all were led to their rooms, y/n was farther from them as she was placed closer to the hospital wing. the guys watched as she left with a few nurses and settled into the atmosphere, speaking butchered german and following a doctor.

they all settled and don became exhausted.

the next morning, he felt terrible. he was too tired to go to the introduction. “i’ll get y/n.” tom spoke, letting ulbrickson and george make sure he was alright. the boys parted ways as her heels clicked through the hallway and into the room, wearing navy dress pants and a blouse to match them- she had planned to walk out with team, but her plans now changed.

y/n had her bag and stethoscope and everyone watched as she gently checked his forehead. “no fever. i’ll watch him, you guys go and be with the team.” she spoke. george insisted on staying back, “go george, support your boys.” she spoke softly. he left and y/n turned to don, “hey donny, what’s going on?” she asked.

“just tired.” he spoke, closing his eyes as she touched his face and neck. “anything sore?” she asked. he hummed, “muscles, but not like practice soreness. heavy soreness.” he spoke. y/n nodded, she helped him change and laid him down in bed.

y/n packed her things and was ready to leave. “can you stay?” don asked, she looked at him. his hand reached out for hers, “yeah i can, i’m sure the boys will be back soon.” she said. y/n placed a chair next to his bed and his hand was still stretched out as he dozed off, she held it gently and looked out the window.

the coaches returned and y/n walked out to the hallway to talk with them. “he has a low grade fever. one he can work through if he continues to rest tonight, he said he has muscle soreness but it’s heavy. the fever is hitting his body hard because he works it enough. it’s eating at his existing exhaustion, so i’m just keeping an eye on him. is there any demand for him for the rest of the night?” she informed, leaning against the wall.

the coaches looked at one another, “not until tomorrow. is he contagious?” ulbrickson asked. she shook her head, “he’s not coughing nor sneezing. the boys should be fine, we just keep monitoring him in case he gets worse. i gave him medicine to kill the fever, so he’s okay right now.” she explained.

the next day, don had to compete with the boys to make it to the final race. y/n watched with the coaches, they stood on the boarding dock and she watched as ulbrickson spoke to them. she walked down once he was done, “are you guys feeling okay?” she asked, the eight nodded. her eyes went to the ninth, who sat tired. she walked over, “you got this don. just push through and before you know it you’ll be able to rest. how are you now?” she asked.

he shrugged, “decent.” he answered and she nodded. she shared a concerned look with bobby, bobby gave her a reassuring nod and she got up and returned to tom’s side.

they all prepared to watch the boys race; as hoped they won.

y/n checked on don before leaving to go to the hospital wing. he was decent, but looked tired. his assurances to y/n didn’t fool her. so she beat everyone to it to report his illness.

sure enough, as she spoke to a doctor, the coaches rushed in. they brought don in where he was checked up on by doctors, they prescribed him medicine and couldn’t put a diagnosis to what he was sick with; but gave y/n what she needed. the coaches left with the doctor to move the rest of the boys.

a doctor returned to the room with ulbrickson, “he can stay with me. i’ll watch him and if he’s contagious i can try to get it out of him and send myself home to prevent risking anyone else’s health.” she spoke, resting a hand on don’s shoulder. she knew what she was doing, and the doctor trusted her, so they agreed.

the boys didn’t have any urge to tease don amongst one another, but they knew it’d be something they brought up in the future.

with a bed across from her, y/n helped don into bed while she unpacked his things alongside hers. “thank you.” he spoke, quiet. “no need to thank me, it’s my job.” she said softly, walking to him. “you didn’t have to do this though.” he continued. she smiled softly, “i know.” she answered.

overnight, don got worse. he threw up after practices, y/n found him sat next to the toilet in the middle of the night. she watched as he became pale and thin, and he watched her worries grow.

the night before the big race, he sat on the bathroom floor while she wet a cloth. “y/n you’re gonna get yourself sick.” he spoke, she kneeled down and wiped his forehead with the cold cloth then rested it on the back of his neck. his eyes closed and she retrieved medicine.

“i can leave early if you’re better and i’m sick.” she stated. he looked up at her, the way the light hit her made her look angelic. “we’re lucky to have you.” he spoke, he wanted to say im lucky to have you, but his nerves stopped him. he was afraid she’d stop and leave him there to suffer, only because he admitted he was just as infatuated with her as the rest of the guys were.

she crouched in front of him with medicine and water, “and i’m lucky to have you guys. especially you.” she said, watching him take the prescription. his hands shook in pure nerves as he handed the cups back. “why me?” he asked. “you’re kinder than them, yeah they’re nice and one is my good friend. but you make me feel normal, not some big deal because i’m a nurse to eighteen guys.” she explained.

y/n sat beside him, and he looked at her. “plus you’re cute, and talented.” she added, watching him go red with a bashful smile. “you’re brains and beauty, how lucky am i to have you as my nurse.” he spoke. she blushed now, letting out a soft laugh. don smiled once she did, and he felt better just by that.

“if only you weren’t potentially contagious and throwing up, i’d give you a big kiss.” she admitted. don fought his nerves, “you can make it up to me later.” he said. y/n blushed and bit back a smile, she couldn’t respond and felt like they swapped places. all she could do was intertwine her hand with his. “you have a big day tomorrow, let’s try and rest.” she gently said.

she helped him to bed and rested a cold cloth on his forehead. y/n slept lightly that night while he slept through the night calmly, she was just happy to see him not wake up until morning.

the olympics came and y/n stood with don at the dock. he looked down at her with some nerves, she smiled at him lightly. “push through. i believe in you. america does too.” she added. she kissed his cheek and let him join the guys, he smiled and they all jokingly nudged him.

“thanks for getting our don happy and moving.” bobby thanked her, smiling and winking. y/n waved him off and smiled, “good luck bobby. yell at him if needed.” she said.

the coaches watched with y/n, the race was remarkable. y/n watched bobby spark don back up, and they pushed towards first place. it was a questionable ending.

y/n paced on the dock, waiting for the answer. ulbrickson watched ahead as the man walked to the microphone; everyone went silent as he held up the photo. “america.” he declared. cheers roared through the stadium and the boys cheered. y/n smiled and joined ulbrickson and tom, who watched proudly.

they all watched the boys pass the wreath, which they brought back to her and picked flowers for her as thanks for everything. thanks for taking care of their boy. hugs were shared and don stayed back. “how are you feeling?” she asked him. “like i could spend the rest of my life with you.” he said, boldly. the statement took her aback and she smiled, “i won’t ask you yet, but let me take you out first.” he added.

the boys cheered, knowing he was going to ask her to be with him somehow. y/n blushed, “i’m yours.” she responded. they shared a smile and returned to the team. the boys teased don all their way back to the rooms.

don sat in his bed, exhausted. y/n walked up to him and checked his forehead. “olympic winner.” she smiled, which he returned. “i won when i got to share a room with the brains and beauty we call the team nurse.” he admitted, nicknaming her the brains and beauty.

y/n beamed and couldn’t stop herself, she kissed him softly and he tensed. yet he relaxed at her touch and pulled her close, taking in the moment. she pulled away and he was blushing, smiling, and scared. “i’ll be fine, i had to make it up to you.” she assured.

— j’s note. this was super long, but i’m sure you guys don’t mind. i hope you enjoyed, and i hope to write another sometime soon! i’m busy with school and some mental stuff, but once i get ideas i’ll write you guys more.

#don hume x reader #don hume x fem!reader #the boys in the boat #boys in the boat #don hume fanfic #don hume #don hume imagine #j’s imagines

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

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FilthX

Summary: X AU where Pearl isn't a homicidal maniac and R is the star everyone wants, including Lorraine

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: 18+ NSFW! Language, smut, strap-on sex

A/N: I think I've combined a least three asks/requests into this little guy, so its for all of you who asked for Lorraine. The pacing is absolutely out of control and self serving, and that just is what it is

This was art. Primal and undomesticated, animalistic artistry. People turned their noses up at it in public, but in private, everyone knows just how fast their own pants can come unzipped. Everyone watches porn or has at some point in their lives, and anyone who says they haven’t, well, they’re just outright lying to you.

It’s not like it was your dream to get naked and fuck on camera, but it paid the bills. And it was fun, that much was true. You were 21 when Wayne, Bobby, and Maxine found you, working as a wrangler for rodeos on the west side of Texas. They took one look at you, with your broad shoulders and tapered waist, and knew you’d be an instant success. They propositioned you, promising you wouldn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to and that Bobby would rock your world. You went with them that night and never went back to the rodeo.

Now, Wayne has this great idea to film at some guesthouse in the country, and he’s hired a pretentious film student called RJ to record what he’s promising will be a universal success. A tasteful, dramatically shot film of the picturesque countryside and cunts. But the thing that’s really caught your attention is who tags along beside RJ. You can’t tell if she’s his girlfriend or not, but you don’t really care because the girl is absolutely stunning.

When she climbs into the van behind RJ, you don’t even hide the fact that you can’t stop staring. She tucks herself into the corner, quiet and shy, her eyes wide behind the dark curtain of hair falling around her face. You can feel Bobby watching you, a knowing smirk on her face. Jackson slaps your knee, grinning ear to ear.

“Don’t you go barkin' up the wrong tree now y/n, some girls are too good for you.” He says, making Bobby giggle.

“Oh, I don’t know, Jackson, I think she could convince just about any girl to set aside her halo,” Bobby says, eyeing the girl behind RJ.

RJ frowns over his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with his knuckle, and glances back at the girl. “Lorraine here volunteered to help me with the film, that’s all.”

Maxine turns around in the front seat, eyeing Lorraine, “Oh, I’m sure she did. Tell us, mouse, you ever done somethin like this before?”

Lorraine’s lips turn down in apparent distaste, and she shakes her head no. Maxine’s eyes light up, and a condescending smirk stretches across her lips. You brace yourself, knowing she’s going to eat this poor girl alive.

“You don’t like pornography, mouse? You tellin' me you ain’t never seen two beautiful bodies, ruttin together and just felt all hot and bothered? Enough to slip those pretty little fingers in-“

“Enough Maxine,” you interrupt, noticing pink creeping up Lorraine’s neck, turning the tips of her ears red.

Maxine gives you an exasperated look and sighs, “You know mouse, if you are gonna give it a spin, y/n is the ride of a lifetime.”

You roll your eyes, and Jackson playfully slaps the side of Maxine’s chair, “Maxine, you told me I was the ride of a lifetime just yesterday!” He exclaims, sticking his bottom lip out in staged hurt.

You bark out a laugh and kick him, “No way Jackson, you slept with my girl?”

“Your girl?” He cries, “These ladies are all mine!”

“Please, both of you belong to us, if anything.” Bobby retorts, smacking on her bubblegum and twirling her blonde hair between her fingers.

The three of them continue to bicker, but you carefully remove yourself from the conversation to shoot Lorraine a soft smile. She gives you the smallest of nods and looks down at the equipment in her hands. RJ narrows his eyes at you but quickly averts them when you smile at him, flexing your arm discreetly.

The van turns down a long dirt road, marking your arrival to the promised countryside. Wayne parks aside the farmhouse, and you all clamber out, gathering your luggage and helping with the film equipment. Wayne sorts out your arrangements with the old man sitting on the porch, and you all make your way to the small guest house. On the walk over, you can hear RJ nagging Lorraine about carrying her weight and wince when you hear him call her a prude. You consider standing up for her but decide against it, you hardly even know them, and you don’t want to stick your nose in someone else’s shit.

Bobby, on the other hand, is more than happy to stick her nose in. She hooks her arm through RJs, her hands unsurprisingly empty of any luggage or equipment. She strokes his arm and giggles at him, wrapping him around her finger. She pulls him ahead of the group, batting her eyelashes and picking at his shirt, leaving you and Lorraine to bring up the rear. You smile down at her, and she glances up at you, quickly looking down at her feet.

“Don’t listen to Maxine,” you tell her, dragging your feet to slow your pace down to hers, “she gets territorial.”

Lorraine readjusts her grip on the box she’s carrying and shrugs, “It’s okay. And I never said I thought what y’all are doin is wrong.”

You tilt your head at her, “Your face kinda said it for ya, gorgeous.”

The box in her arms slips, and she stumbles, trying not to drop it. She’s blushing again, you see it creeping up her neck when she tosses her hair to the side over her shoulder.

“It’s not that,” she clarifies, “she called me mouse.”

“Ah,” you say, your eyebrows raising in realization, “yeah, I guess that wasn’t the nicest nickname to slap on ya, was it? Hey, you need help with that?”

You stop and tuck the two suitcases in your hands under your arm, offering your empty hand out to help her. She fumbles with the box again, trying to get a better grip, and gives up, nodding her head. You scoop it from her hands easily, wrapping one arm around it and continuing to walk. She falters for a moment, watching you carry everything.

She jogs a few steps to catch up, and looks up at you, “You been with them long?”

“Few years, why?”

“You seem…different. From them.”

You snort, “What, like, not depraved?”

She shrugs, her arms swinging out wide as she tries to keep pace with you, “Yeah, I guess. Quieter.”

“Oh don’t you worry, I can be as debauched as the rest of them. I usually just save that for when there’s far less clothing.” You wink at her with a grin, making her blush again.

“So what they were sayin…” she hesitates, “about you…”

You stay silent, quietly choosing to force her into speaking the question you already know she’s asking. Forcing her out of her comfort zone.

She chews at the inside of her lip, “Do you film with Jackson at all?” She asks, beating around what she really wants to ask.

You chuckle, “Oh no, honey, he couldn’t handle me on his best day. Besides, Bobby and Maxine are much prettier’n he is.”

“So…how-“ she cuts herself off, her brow furrowed.

You stop in front of the door, turning to face her, “I have my ways. Why? You curious, Lorraine?” You drawl her name out, pressing your tongue hard against your teeth, your eyebrow raised.

She takes a sharp breath in, her mouth opening and closing as she sorts through her justification for asking. She’s saved by Wayne, who throws the screen door open from the inside.

“Y/n, let’s go! I wanna get this first scene done before the sun sets.”

You nod at him and turn back to Lorraine, winking at her again, “Duty calls.”

——

The bedroom is set up with a camera sitting on a tripod at the foot of the bed. RJ is standing behind it, tapping his foot nervously. Lorraine hovers in the corner, the boom mic resting on her shoulder. The scene Wayne wants to film is between you and Bobby, with heavy involvement from a particularly large dildo strapped to your waist. The scene plays out, you know the acting is horrific, but that’s not the point of the movie.

The point is quickly made when your pants are dropped around your ankles and the dildo springs out. You go through the motions, stripping Bobby down and railing her, stopping when you’re told so they can change the camera angle, and then starting back up on Wayne’s command. Bobby is more enthusiastic than usual, and not for any lack of effort on your part. But you think it has something to do with proving Maxine’s point to Lorraine, who is trying her very best not to tremble under the boom.

You catch yourself glancing over at her, listening to Bobby moan, and you begin to really put on a show. She’s bent over the bed, one of your hands on her waist and the other pressing between her shoulder blades.

“CUT CUT CUT!” Wayne’s voice brings you to a screeching halt making Bobby whine into the mattress.

You look over your shoulder at him, releasing her hips, “What the fuck man, she’s almost there!”

“Yeah what’s the deal Wayne, y/n is giving the fucking performance of a lifetime,” Bobby says, breathless.

“You keep looking away from her, it’s taking away from the scene,” RJ grumbles.

Maxine laughs from the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest “I think the church mouse has her distracted.”

Wayne looks at you and runs his hand over his chin, “You gonna focus any time soon y/n, or do we need to switch you out with Jackson?”

“No fuckin way!” You reply, gripping Bobby’s hips again, “Roll your god damned camera and let me finish my job.”

Wayne rests his hands on his hip, nodding, “That’s what I thought. Now let’s wrap this up. Bobby, you know what to do.”

———

The group has settled into the living room, clothes returned, and cameras off. You finished the scene without another glance in Lorraine’s direction, and Bobby did her job in the way only she could. You knew the scene was going to be amazing, and you were feeling proud of yourself. Cheap whiskey is poured into small paper cups, and everyone is in good spirits.

The conversation gradually turns to the morals of making pornography and the lesson you’ve all learned about taking your youth for granted. The talk seems to spark something in Lorraine, she takes a sip of her whiskey and leans forward, eyes bright.

“I want to do a scene in the movie.”

The room goes quiet, all eyes are turned to her. You fight every urge in you not to smile like a schoolboy who’d found a puppy on his doorstep. Bobby grins at you, and Maxine pushes your leg with her foot from the end of the couch. A shadow passes over RJs face, his feelings clear on the matter.

“You can’t be in the movie Lorraine.”

“Why not?” She asks, cocking her head in challenge.

Maxine pipes up, “Yeah, RJ, why not?”

“She just can’t.” He says, gritting his teeth.

Bobby frowns, “You told me she ain’t your girlfriend no more, RJ. And even if she was, you don’t get to tell her what to do.”

RJ’s jaw drops open, unable to form words. Lorraine looks smug and flashes a grateful smile at Bobby. You’re full-on smiling now, giddy at the thought of seeing this play out.

Wayne lightly slaps Maxine’s leg with a smile, “You wanna take Jackson for a ride then, church mouse?”

Jackson laughs, “Oh no sir, she don’t want me.”

You wink at Jackson, thankful for his deflection. Wayne nods solemnly and looks over at you.

“What you think y/n, you wanna take that big boy between your legs for another spin?”

You throw back the rest of the whiskey, wincing at the taste, “I think I can find it in me.”

RJ stands, “We can’t film it tonight, the lighting is bad.”

“Hm,” Wayne hums, squinting out the dark window, “he ain’t wrong. How’s about we plan for tomorrow, that work for you, church mouse?”

Lorraine swallows the last of her drink and shrugs, nodding, “Guess it’ll have to.”

——

When you drop into your bed for the night, you fall asleep almost instantly. Work always did that to you, siphoned off any gas you had in the tank, and left you dead tired. The whiskey made you feel pleasantly heavy, and you sank into a sweet, dream-filled sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you had been out, but you woke slowly. It took you a moment to figure out where you were, the silver moonlight washing into the window and the thin cotton blanket scratching at your chin. You blink a few times, trying to figure out what woke you up, but a weight shifting on the bed behind you told you what you needed to know. You roll onto your back, half expecting to see RJ there with a steak knife to your throat.

You rub your eyes with your knuckles to ensure you were seeing what you thought you were seeing. Lorraine was crawling into your bed, wearing nothing but a yellow bra and panties. Something cold lands on your stomach, and you look down to see your strap-on rising and falling on your belly with your breathing.

“Lorraine?” You say, your voice raspy with sleep.

“Put it on.” Is all she replies, sitting back on her heels next to your elbow.

“What?” Your sleep-muddled brain is struggling to catch up.

“Put the thing on,” she gestures to your strap-on, her eyes wide and her lips parted.

Your brows knit together in confusion, “We ain’t filmin til the mornin'.”

She sighs, “If you don’t want to, I can go back to my room.”

You blink hard again and finally realize that she’s really there and she’s really asking what she’s asking. She moves to get off the bed, but you reach out and grab her by the elbow. You push yourself up the bed, sitting against the headboard, the strap-on sliding off to your side. Her eyes flit down to your exposed chest, and you smirk, proud to show her your body again. She reaches out timidly, her hands shaking with the slightest tremble. You watch her face as she runs her fingers down your stomach, tracing over the hard-set lines between the muscle there. She licks her lips and looks back into your eyes, catching you with a smirk on your lips.

You pull her into you gently, your hand on the back of her neck, and kiss her. She’s stiff, unsure at first. You pull back and look into her eyes, searching for a signal not to continue. She leans forward further and kisses you again, her lips softer and her hands wandering. Through cracked eyelids, you see hers close, and you pull her in closer. She swings one leg over you, sitting in your lap, her hands running over your shoulders.

You run your fingers down her spine, sending goosebumps across her skin. Your hands find purchase on her hips as you pull her closer, encouraging her to grind into your lap. She whimpers into your lips, and your heart begins to pound. You’re a little taken aback at your own excitement. You had sex for a living, and you enjoyed it, but this felt different. This wasn’t for everyone else to enjoy, this was for the two of you only. You hardly knew this girl, and yet, you found yourself being impossibly gentle with her.

She breaks your lips apart and leans back, reaching for the dildo at your side. She bites her lip, evaluating it, and looks back at you.

“You don’t have to, you know.” You say softly, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“I want to,” she says and hands over the harness.

You take it from her, your lips curling up in a devious smirk. You push her to the side and flip her onto her back, your knees between her legs. Her breath leaves her in a huff when her back hits the mattress. You work at sliding the harness on, tightening the buckles, and ensuring it won’t move. When your eyes return to her face, she looks positively delicious. Edible even. Her eyes are heavy lidded, her full lips parted and pouty, her skin bright in the moonlight. She waits for you, her arms above her head, completely surrendered to you.

Your tongue wets your lips as you take her in, allowing the tension to build between you. You lean forward on your hands and press a kiss into her stomach just below her bra, your tongue lazily tasting her skin. She gasps and winds her fingers into your hair, your tongue making its journey over the plane of her stomach. Her breathing quickens when you reach her hip bones, her stomach twitching under your mouth. You glance up to meet her dark eyes and pull her panties down her legs. She whines when you kiss the inside of her thigh, pushing her legs open further. Her fingers tighten in your hair, pulling at your scalp.

You kiss up her leg, drawing small sounds of excitement out of her above you, encouraging you. The sweet, musky smell of her arousal fills your senses, sharpening your mind to a razor point. You run your palms up the tops of her thighs and press down on her hips, driving her into the mattress as you run your tongue through her. A quiet, throaty moan leaves her lips, your touch surprising her. You work into her entrance, savoring every centimeter of her on your tongue. You pull out and drag it flat across her clit, the pressure soft and exploratory. Her hand leaves your hair and retreats to the pillow, where she grips the cotton until her knuckles are white.

You lick a stripe from her entrance over her clit again, working her up. You don’t want her to cum from this, you just want to get her going. You wrap your lips around the swollen bundle of nerves and suck on it, loving the way her back arches off the bed when you do it. She’s dripping down onto the mattress, and you decide it’s enough, to begin with, so you lift your head and kiss the inside of her thigh. Your crawl up her body and her hands are reaching for you, pulling your face down into a feverish kiss. She groans at her own taste on your tongue, her fingers right around the back of your neck. The dildo drags up her thigh, making her whimper into your mouth, one of her hands racing down your back to grip at your ass.

Just when you thought you knew what she wanted, she’s pushing you over, flipping you on your back. You help her and swing around, pulling her to sit on your stomach as you fall back. She’s hot and wet on your belly, rutting against the ridges of your abs. Before she can get much further, you sit up and wrap your hands behind her back, kissing her chest and unhooking her bra in one fell swoop. She lets it fall to the side and pushes you onto your back, leaning over you, her hair falling into your face. She kisses you quickly and then pulls back, lifting her hips and gripping the base of the dildo in her hand beneath her. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, watching her rub the tip around her entrance, coating it in her slick.

She sits slowly on it, letting it sink into her inch by inch, one hand pressing on your chest, the other holding the dildo in place. When her hips settle into yours, the whole toy inside of her, she sighs. It makes you feel like an explosion, fragments of what you thought you knew ripping out and embedding themselves into the walls of the room. Your mouth drops open when she runs her fingers down your body and then up her own. She rolls her hips forward, rocking them up on the backstroke. You’d always found strap-on sex extremely satisfying, but for the first time, you’re wishing you could feel everything. You’d give your left arm to feel the toy being gripped inside of her. The thought nearly takes your breath away.

She begins to move in earnest, the muscles in her legs flexing as she rocks over your hips. When she runs her hand into her own hair, her fingers combing it out of her face, you feel the itch to have her closer. You reach out and settle for holding her hips, pushing and pulling her as you begin to roll your own, keeping the timing and rhythm perfectly on her pace. You slide one hand from her hip over her stomach, up to her nipple, and roll your fingertip over it, her hips moving faster. The lewd sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room, only broken up by your occasional grunting and her soft moaning.

She shudders and drops down on her hands over your body, panting, a bead of sweat rolling from her neck to the hollow of her throat. You watch it puddle there, rocking side to side with the movement of your bodies. You bend your knees and plant your feet into the bed, giving yourself support to properly fuck her from underneath, rocking her forward with every thrust. A low groan tears out of her throat, too loud for a quiet, sleeping house. You pull her down into a kiss to silence her, forcing her whining down to a more appropriate timbre.

Your arms wrap around her back, and you hold her weight as you sit up with her in your lap, still riding you. She rests her arms over your shoulders, her fingers pressing into the muscles in your back. Her fingertips soon turn into nails, the stinging making you gasp. She drops her head on your shoulder, holding you tight. Her hips jerk off her cadence, her breathing uneven and shallow. Her teeth dig into the skin of your shoulder, making you groan in her ear. She releases you and throws her head back, using the back of your neck to anchor herself.

Her body freezes up, her hips moving in choppy strokes. You can feel her dripping around the toy inside of her, running down your legs. It’s enough to send a perfectly sane person off the edge, and you’re suddenly aware of why people were able to be seduced into cults. Her body was an altar, and you were drinking her in like holy water, content to die of thirst if she so wished it. She collapses against your chest, and you fall back into the pillows. You give her time to recover, letting her catch her breath and cool off as she put the puzzle of her mind back together. Eventually, she lifts herself off the dildo and rolls to your side, her head resting on your chest.

As much as you want to continue touching her, you want the harness off your hips more. It was squeezing you in an unpleasant pinch, and the hours you’d spent in it meant chafing had begun. You carefully unbuckle it without moving her from your chest and push it down to your knees. You use your feet to wriggle out of it and kick it off the end of the bed, sighing in relief.

Lorraine places her hands on top of one another over your chest and rests her chin on them, looking up at you, “I imagined it was gonna be good,” she says, a sleepy drawl in her voice, “but I had no idea it’d be like that.”

You yawn and take a lock of hair between your fingers, twirling it around them and rubbing it with your thumb, “You should give yourself credit where credit is due, you rocked that like it was your business.”

She smiles, her eyes crinkling, “Tomorrow it’ll be my business, tonight was just because I wanted to.”

Your eyes are sliding shut in spite of yourself, the whiskey and exertion settling into your bones again. Lorraine presses a kiss on your ribs and pushes herself up. You crack your eyes open and shake your head, your hand resting on her back.

“Stay.” You tell her, closing your eyes again.

She takes a moment to consider, then pulls the blankets back and crawls under them, covering you with the other end. Just before you fall into the abyss of sleep, you feel her press her nose into your neck, drape her arm and a leg over your body, and you’re out like a light.

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #x movie #tara carpenter #vada cavell #phoebe atwell #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader

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fancyfeathers · 4 months

Text

Yandere Jouno with a runaway darling

So say by some miracle Jouno’s darling escaped, he would be furious but mostly worried sick. The only way she could possibly escape is when he was off at work as a hunting dog and he left something out by accident, bobby-pin or something along those lines to pick the lock with. His work keeps him busy so he can’t just go off to find her. So he pulls a few strings in his position of the military police and has her escape filed as a “missing persons” case. It truly doesn’t take long after for him to find her.

She’ll be walking after getting off the train in a completely new town, far away from where Jouno kept her. Everything will seem alright, peaceful even, that is until a police officer approaches her and asks her a few questions, he’s kind, has no idea what he’s doing in reality, in his mind he’s just trying to help someone who was reported as missing. After the mini accidental heart attack from the unknowing police officer, Jouno’s darling will go off on her own into town and the officer to report what he saw back at the station, right into the records which Jouno has access to.

His darling may stay in that town for a few days or even a few hours after Jouno finds out, depends on how upset he is and how willing he is to play a game. But either way his darling will come back to whatever small hotel she’s staying in to see her door slightly ajar, and her heartbeat goes crazy, she knows it’s him, she knows he’s here. She doesn’t dare take another step closer to the door, so she slowly and quietly as she possibly can, takes a step back away from the door, only for her back to collide with a another person who wasn’t there before. As soon as she feels arms wrap around her waist, pulling her into an embrace so that the back of her head leans against a scarlet clothed chest, it’s over. She can only glance up to see Jouno’s smiling face looking down at her.

“Oh dear, seems that you ran off. I can only imagine what could have happened to you if I didn’t find you. Come on now darling, time to go home.”

—————————

I definitely see Jouno more as a patronizing and protective yandere with very very slight sadistic tendencies rather than just a full on sadistic yandere. Mostly because of that one line where he says he gets more joy in protecting innocents than punishing the guilty (while he still does get pleasure from that). In his eyes no one is more innocent than his darling and he wants to protect her more than anyone, and yes sometimes he has to punish her but he swears it for her own good, but it’s hard to deny to himself that he can help but smile when seeing her helpless form in pain, she wouldn’t survive without him.

#yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere jouno #yandere Jouno Saigiku #Yandere Jouno x reader #jouno saigiku x reader #jouno x reader

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mvltisstuff · 7 months

Note

HI!! i was wondering if you could do a buck fic to where they’re working at the 118 and he just randomly starts getting really needy - like arms wrapped around reader’s shoulders and walking (waddling rlly..) while still holding onto them. then like a cute little cuddle session at home where he talks abt how he wants to marry reader and just talks about the future.

THANK YOU!!!!!!

clean - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif from @housewifebuck

a/n: guys!!! i love this i can’t wait for a new buck in s7 :)) anyway, 1989 TV SO SOON GUYS WTF, it feels like yesterday was red tv 😧

the lightning had taken care of the other fires in buck. he was different, and he couldn’t tell if he hated it or loved it at first.

the man he was was reckless and like a shiny new toy for someone to play with. he allowed people to string him along and pull at his arms until he did what they wanted. it almost felt like his purpose, to be a prop for everyone else.

he thought y/n would leave him soon after the strike. everyone else liked to do the same thing. his parents giving up on him after his youthful mistakes, abby fleeing because he wasn’t enough for her, aly fearing her future with him. he thought y/n would crack under the pressure of almost losing someone like buck, now he hates himself for second guessing her.

he started to appreciate the smallest things in his girlfriend. the softness of her words, the light reflection of sun in her eyes, the cotton-like skin on her hands as they grazed over it. he almost didn’t want to face her after the accident, but she was clutching onto his hand when he woke up. and, there hasn’t been a day where she hasn’t reminded him that she’s going nowhere.

she knew bucks scars as she watched them all get handed to him. she knew how silently fragile he was. he could see it clearly in her as well, noticing each fear of hers and the love she’s pushed away. it was foreign to both of them, the tenderness of each other.

it’s been years since they began dating, and somehow every day is brand new with them. y/n doesn’t ever believe that buck has something to make up. but, he thinks so. he’s been spending years begging for love, and now he has it. now, he wants to show the world what he has after it tried to strip him of everything.

it doesn’t matter how long a shift was, when buck was back to work, every free moment was spent on her heels. he used to go through work, only looking around to see who maybe looked at him. now, he looks forward to see his girl waiting for him wherever he may be.

today was no different, y/n was stocking the engine full of brand new supplies from the new shipment. the trucks glazed red popped out from her perfect polishing on the sides.

“this truck looks almost as good as you,” buck whispers, placing his hand on the side of her waist, making her jump in place.

“and what are you supposed to be doing right now?” she teases back.

“taking it easy, like you and bobby told me!”

“so you come and flirt with your already girlfriend? professional hours baby, remember?”

“those are boring, though. i just want to take you home and never leave.” he sighs, placing his chin on her head.

“just a few more hours, i believe in you!” she encourages, making him smirk and land his lips on her cheek, running away like a little kid.

y/n stood with buck at the island of the kitchen, smelling over bobby’s new dishes that he had prepared for the team. he made several things for a feast amongst everyone, getting a well deserved break.

she could practically feel buck breathing on her neck as he peered over her shoulder. normally, someone doing that would be insufferable, but buck makes it seem normal. it makes her smile, knowing how close he always wishes to be.

“if i didn’t know any better i’d think you were conjoined twins.” chimney takes a turn at his own joke, trying not to laugh at himself. he gets a smile from y/n, but the fakest look you ever did see from buck.

“i’m gonna slap you and i hope it shocks you.” buck snaps back, half joking but also half annoyed as well. chimney takes his plate and scurries away.

buck makes two plates as y/n grabs them drinks from the fridge, moving over to place it in the seat next to her. before she can even think about sitting, buck slightly runs into her with his hip. he places the plates down perfectly on the mats before pulling her chair out. she gazes at him, noticing the cheesy grin on his lips. the team stops to notice his abruptness on pulling out her chair, and kissing her head as she sits.

as the dinner closes, and the sun dips lower, the calls come in slower. luckily, the shift is just ending, so it’s just buck and y/n left in the kitchen as she scrubs away at a bowl. he sneaks up behind her, grabbing a dish to dry from her.

“hi, honey,” he says, looking down at her.

“hi, buck,” she smiles back, noticing the excitement on his face just getting to be near her. “do you wanna talk?”

“about what?”

“i just want to make sure you’re okay, baby,” her kindness and concern comes through her angelic voice, buck almost getting distracted by the sound of her.

“i’m fine!” he replies. “just been thinkin’”

“we can talk about it if you’d like.”

“maybe later, i just can’t wait for us to go home together.” he dries the plate as y/n scoops them all up, buck wrapping his arms around her waist and tucking his face into her neck. he locks his fingers together and rests them on her belly. she just giggles, waddling over to the cabinet where she slides the dishes in. it would’ve been easier if she wasn’t like a tree to a sloth, but easier isn’t always for the best.

the car ride home in his truck was nothing less than romantic. his hand was rested on her thighs the whole time if it wasn’t on the gear shift or the wheel. she practically had to keep touching him somehow to make him keep his eyes on the road.

when the duo finally arrived at home, she looked over at buck and could tell how sleepy he was. his eyes told her everything, and she can read him like a book now that she’s admired him for so long. “hey, go shower and come back down here.”

buck agrees, taking a quick shower and changing into some more comfortable clothes. when he walks back down the stairs, he can smell the sweetener of his favorite tea wafting through the living room, as y/n sits down in her soft sweater and places the mugs on the couch. they’re matching LAFD mugs that y/n’s parents bought for them. she turned on reruns of new girl as she moved to grab a blanket from the basket, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“come on,” she sweetly curls his lips up at him, signaling for him to come lay with her. he happily obliges, going to sit between her legs on his side, the side of his face buried into y/n’s warm chest.

the tightness of her arms wrapped around him eases any weight of the day or stress on his body. he lets himself relax in her hold, knowing she’ll keep him safe from whatever might come his way next.

one of her arms is rubbing his back as the other cups his face as he appears to be intently watching the show, but he’s not.

he thinks of small y/n and buck mixes running around a small house in los angeles, the sun shining through the curtains early in the morning. he thinks of the smell of ice cream and the reflection of the moon on the windows as they get ready for bed. he thinks of a warm vacation with a shining rock on her ring finger.

“i can’t wait to see you in a big, white dress,” he mumbles into her shirt, smiling just at the thought of seeing her on a carpet, walking down an isle to greet him.

“what is going on in that mind of yours?” she teases, brushing her fingers through his hair.

“i just- i don’t want anyone else but you,” he begins. “you could’ve ran. you could’ve left me in the dark, but you didn’t. you’re the only person who hasn’t done that to me. i trust you, and i know you won’t. it’s my turn to show you that i’m here to stay, and that we’re forever.”

“listen,” she starts next, the clear adoration in her eyes. “i would lay on this couch, all day, every day, if it meant you’d come back to me. id do anything, and literally anything, to spend the rest of my life with you. im sorry for every other woman who can’t be with a man like you.”

he doesn’t know how to compete with sentences like that. it feels brand new, even though she tells him all the time. it feels different after the lightning strike. someone above tried so hard to ruin the best things he had going on, but he pulled through. he wants to think he’s strong on his own, but buck knows he wouldn’t be here if y/n wasn’t next to him. if she hasn’t picked up the pieces that everyone left behind, if she hadn’t taken the time to put him back together.

now, buck barely thinks of all the shit that’s happened to him. how could he, when the future is definite right in front of him? he used to just assume his life would be the same forever, but y/n’s flashlight guided him out of the cave he was in. he sleeps in her arms without a fear that she’ll disappear from him, and without a fear that things are out for him.

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extasiswings · 1 year

Text

the more it heals, the worse it hurts

I’m not sorry, but I might be a little sorry. Have some post-6x10 Eddie and Bobby in the hospital.

Bobby knows he should call Athena. He’s dead on his feet, old ghosts circling around him and grief bearing down on his shoulders with the weight of the world. He needs his wife. It’s just that kind of night.

He lasted longer than he expected though. He’s kept the ghosts, the grief, the blood of long-scarred over wounds ripped open afresh at bay for hours, finding ways to keep busy. Doing his job. Calling the station to arrange coverage. Speaking with doctors to explain what happened. Taking care of his people—when Chim brought Maddie in, Bobby was the one to pass along the updates he’d been given from the medical staff. When Hen needed to call Karen, Bobby found her a phone. And Eddie—

Well.

Honestly, Bobby isn’t sure he’s done much for Eddie at all. Not since that initial moment, pulling Eddie away, barking orders to drive the ambulance. If he’s really honest with himself, he’s been avoiding the other man since they arrived at the hospital. Because there is something in Eddie right now, a brittle fragility, that Bobby has seen before, that he feels himself in a different way, and he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to be what Eddie needs. He doesn’t know if he can help without breaking himself. At least, not without setting up a safety net first.

He calls Athena.

He closes his eyes.

He breathes.

He prays.

And then, he pushes himself off the wall of the stairwell he had ducked into and resolves to be Atlas for a little while longer.

He can take it.

Bobby finds Eddie at the furthest edge of the waiting room, a corner that’s a little more empty, a little more private. He’s quite far from the Buckleys, Bobby notes absently.

Eddie doesn’t react when Bobby settles into the chair next to him. His gaze is fixed on the wall, but also distant, like he’s somewhere else completely, seeing something else completely. Silence stretches between them for so long that at first Bobby almost wonders if he’s misjudged the situation, if Eddie really doesn’t want to talk after all. But Bobby waits—patient, steady, calling on all the wealth of experience his life has brought him to keep himself composed. And finally, Eddie cracks.

“He didn’t get to say goodbye,” Eddie says. He doesn’t turn his head, doesn’t look at Bobby at all, but it’s something.

“What?”

Eddie’s throat works as he swallows. His hand comes up to wipe at his mouth roughly like he’s clearing away some invisible stain.

“Christopher,” he clarifies. “When Shannon—I was in the ambulance, I got to say goodbye, but she was gone as soon as we got to the hospital and there was nothing—” He shakes his head, his eyes growing even more distant. “I just had to go home and tell him she was gone. And I’ve always felt like that was unfair, but at the same time part of me is grateful that he didn’t have to see her like that, that his last memory of her doesn’t involve a tube in her throat.”

Bobby opens his mouth, then closes it. Waits a moment more. Because he can see the cracks in the man in front of him, see the fraying, fraying threads, and while he’s willing to pick up the pieces, he doesn’t want to be the reason Eddie shatters. So he waits, and lets Eddie wind his way to whatever he needs to get out.

“But…he didn’t get to say goodbye,” Eddie repeats, his voice cracking. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Bobby’s chest aches when he draws in his next breath. The weight on his shoulders tips precariously, threatening to crush him. But he resets, rebalances.

He does what he has to do.

When he sets a hand to Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie flinches but ultimately leans into it. After a moment, he lifts his head and finally meets Bobby’s eyes. The look in them steals the air from Bobby’s lungs—it’s raw, agonized, wild…and familiar. Bobby’s seen that look before, in his own eyes. In his mirror. For years after he lost his first wife and his children, he saw it reflected back at him every morning. And now he’s seeing it in Eddie’s, far deeper and sharper than the last time they had been in this situation, because this time Eddie’s allowing himself to really feel everything.

For better or worse.

“I don’t know how to go home,” Eddie confesses. “Because when I get there, I have to wake him up and tell him and bring him here. And I can’t do that—I can’t put him through that. But I also can’t not do it either, because if Buck—” Another crack. Another pause. Another swallow.

Bobby squeezes Eddie’s shoulder. And his heart bleeds.

“He didn’t get to say goodbye last time.” A whisper. And yet somehow also a plea. To God? The universe? “He deserves the chance to do that. He deserves the option.”

“Yes, he does,” Bobby replies quietly.

“It’s not fair,” Eddie snaps, his hands coming up to rake through his hair in frustration. “He finally moved on, he built something new, he got attached to someone else, and now—it’s not fair.”

And there it is. The flare in Eddie’s eyes, the hitch of his voice that tells Bobby everything Eddie is trying not to say outright, provides final confirmation of the truth of all the stray thoughts Bobby has had over the years, questions that he’s kept locked away and elected not to fixate on because they weren’t his business.

Because before, they really were talking about Christopher. But Bobby knows better than to think that’s still all they’re doing now.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Eddie admits, and Bobby knows he’s referring to more than just going home. “I don’t know how to do this if he doesn’t wake up.”

And that right there is why Bobby had been avoiding this. Because he’s not sure he knows either.

He’s not prepared to lose another son.

At the end of the hall, the entrance doors open. Athena walks through. And suddenly, the weight on Bobby’s shoulders eases.

“You don’t have to have the answers yet,” he replies, pushing himself up from the chair. “You just have to start somewhere. And you don’t have to do any of it alone.”

“Come on,” he adds with his hand still firmly fixed around Eddie’s shoulder. He nods in Athena’s direction. “We’ll take you home. And bring you back if you want.”

And with a heavy sigh and one last pause, Eddie allows Bobby to help him to his feet.

This, he can do. The rest…they can work all of that out later.

#chapel writes #911 spoilers #eddie diaz #bobby nash #911 fic

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ukulelevillainwrites · 2 months

Text

who follows the rules anyway

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

pairing : anthony lockwood x reader

word count : 10k

warnings : drinking, drunken state

taglist : @demigoddess-of-ghosts ; @oblivious-idiot ; @neewtmas ; @bobbys-not-that-small ; @bella-rose29 ; @maraschinomerry ; @novelizt ; @fudosl ; @archiveoftara ; @cassiopeiia24 (i think i didn't forget anyone but i could be wrong)

content : I couldn’t resist some callbacks to the attic scene before fittes’ party, George wears a bowtie for all the fans of ali in a bowtie out there know that it was my frame of reference, I tried to not make it look like a direct copy of the fittes party but there are a lot of similarities

note : life got so out of hand, I sincerely apologize that it took so long but to make up for it it’s quite long and I really really like this part it’s THE part I’ve fantasized about since I started writing and I really like how the main scenes came out

Also sorry I know it’s been a long time but pt8 picks up right after the last scene of pt7

She realized what she just said as she walked past him entering the kitchen. She turned around suddenly, bumping into him as he followed her inside.

“I’m so sorry Lockwood I’m being so rude.”

“Well, you’re not wrong but you could tell me this without stepping on my toes.”

She looked down and fair enough she was. She took a few steps back, apologizing again and she bumped into the cupboards behind her.

“Ow!”

“Am I gonna have to stitch you up again?” Lockwood asked, amused.

“I’m so sorry.” She said again sitting down in the chair closest to her.

“You keep saying that.”

“Well, I am. I’m sorry I talked to you that way in front of Lucy, and I’m sorry I talked to you like that in the hall, and I’m sorry I came into your life yelling at you and making you angry-”

“I’m not angry.” He interrupted. “Just… frustrated.” They stayed in silence for a while staring at each other.

“I can’t figure you out.” He admitted in a lower voice.

She could have told him the same thing.

“You hate me, then you warm up to me, then you give me the cold shoulder and hate me again… what am I supposed to think?”

“I don’t hate you. I just… I can’t figure you out either. I never know what you’re thinking.”

“Well, I hired you because I think you’re good, I hate fighting, I genuinely want to help you with this whole thing, and I think it’s pretty nice when we get along. Is that clear enough?”

Not quite, she thought. What were they supposed to be? Did he consider them actual friends now or were they far from it? Did he mean it when he said that he had always been honest with her? His charming act did look awfully familiar every time he used it with clients. She didn’t know what she was supposed to think. All the questions that clouded her mind when she thought about him came rushing in.

“We’re strictly colleagues then? Or am I allowed to say that we’re friends.” She managed.

“I think friends is more fitting. I mean what kind of employer would I be sleeping in the same couch as my underling?”

She blushed furiously at the memory of his arms around her.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Did I go too far that night? I never meant to-”

“Lockwood it’s alright. It was sweet really… I didn’t expect you to watch over me like that.”

They both looked anywhere else but each other, embarrassed at the thought of that night. She didn’t regret it, quite the contrary. She still thought about it fondly.

“It was nice… I felt safe.” She added in a tone barely above a whisper.

“I know you’d do the same for me…”

She looked up at him in surprise.

“Wouldn’t you?” he asked, his frown deepening as he looked into her eyes, almost begging.

“I… I just don’t see what I did to make you so sure of it. Was it the insults or the yelling?”

He laughed.

“You saved my life twice. I didn’t think I’d have to remind you that, I rather thought you’d gloat and annoy me with it every single day.”

“You’re right I should.”

They exchanged another look, warmer and more knowing.

She got up to prepare some tea. She made his cup the way he liked it and handed to him. He smiled at her with the familiarity she liked so much. She turned around before he could notice the blush on her cheeks. She then prepared two more cups, George’s with slightly more sugar than hers and placed them on an unused corner of the Thinking Cloth. She called on George and handed him his tea. When she looked up at Lockwood his smile wasn’t as wide. The three of them settled around the table.

“Alright, let’s plan a heist.”

“Why can’t we just push it back one week? It’d give us the extra time we need to prepare.”

“The event for the launch of their new rapier line will be more crowded and it lasts an entire day. Showing up there will never be enough to keep us out of suspicion. It has to be the fundraiser tomorrow.”

Lockwood hadn’t looked up from the plans of the building. They were trying to figure out the safest route for Lucy and Norrie to reach the documents they needed while staying as far from the party as possible and they were running out of time. Lockwood had had a hard time getting them in the fundraiser. For starter he had tried reaching out to different contacts to get in. The only result he got was a newfound rage against the Organization for not inviting them in the first place. She could have guessed a million things that could have motivated Lockwood to get them into this party at all costs. She didn’t think Bunchurch would be the one. Apparently the less than prestigious agency had some agents attending the event. In fact, all agencies had some representatives attending, or almost all of them. Something about showing the growing bonds between agencies and the Silverpoint Organization. Lockwood’s renewed determination led him to go all the way down to their headquarters to demand an invite using a mix of his usual charms and some threats of bad press. He had been convincing enough to get the three of them in. He had just put the envelopes down on the Thinking Cloth with a triumphant smile when someone knocked on the door. George led Lucy in the kitchen and they all smiled widely when she told them she and Norrie would join them. All the pieces were finally coming together. Then they studied the plans of the house and realized that it wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

First of all because it was a mansion and not a house. The surface was significantly larger and the number of rooms they had to cover seemed impossible to search in just a few hours. Second of all because it was a city mansion, just north of Hyde Park, with other buildings right next to it, no garden and the front door accessible from the street. No other point of entry and neighbours on both sides. It had been fairly easy to determine which rooms to search first, compared to figuring out how the girls were supposed to get inside and out while remaining unseen.

“Wait what’s this?” Norrie asked picking up some of the research y/n had done on the party. She had spent so much time looking at those papers she couldn’t bear to look at them again.

“It’s details about the party, the agencies and companies that will be represented, the staff I managed to get information about, that kind of thing.”

“Well, if we know which catering company they’ll be hiring why don’t we use that?”

“How?”

“I don’t know… Maybe get hired, be a waitress during the event and use that to slip out?”

They all stared at her, in disbelief that they didn’t make the connection sooner.

“That’s a good idea but I’m not sure we’ll have enough time to get hired.” Lucy raised a good point.

“They’re always looking for extra people at the last minute for this kind of event. They get to hire desperate people who need a job so they can pay them less. It could be worth a try.”

“Norrie, that’s brilliant.” Lockwood exclaimed, his enthusiasm renewed. “Okay, you and Lucy will get in by waitressing at the event.” He got up and started pacing around the room. “You discreetly slip out and search the rooms in that order. I’ll need you to find a folder to put the documents in. Next, one of you go up on the second floor in that room.” He pointed at what seemed to be a bedroom drawn on the top left corner of the map. “You’ll let the folder fall from that window into the alley next to the mansion. When it’s done, give us a discreet sign. One of us will fake going out to take some fresh air and retrieve the documents.”

Relief filled the room as Lockwood finished explaining the last details of his plan. He was so sure of himself, so confident and convinced that they would succeed that it was hard to be pessimistic. He made it sound so easy.

“Lucy, Norrie, you should go and see if you can get hired today. George, now that we have a plan, I’m ordering you to find something decent to wear to the event.”

George sighed, clearly not happy about having to leave his research and take on an activity he had no interest in.

“Do you have something to wear, y/n?”

“I’ll probably figure something out.” She answered, rubbing her eyes. The long days of research, planning and cases had drained all energy from her, and like George she wasn’t too eager to spend time on her feet looking for something to wear at a party she wasn’t going to have fun at. Her bed sounded more appealing than anything else.

“Am I going to have to lead you both out with the point of my rapier in your back to get you moving?”

“Are you threatening us so we go shopping?”

“Well, locking you out of the house isn’t an option because of a certain someone,” Lockwood said as his stare lingered on her a few seconds more than she thought necessary, “so I have to resort to extreme measures.” He concluded with a wink.

They looked at him in disbelief. Since when did he care so much about what they were wearing?

“We need to be camera ready, this could be Lockwood and Co.’s first very public night we need to look our best!”

She was so exhausted she hadn’t realized they now had to endure fame-struck Lockwood craving the attention of the public. He was not going to let this go. She reluctantly stood up, mouthing “fine” at him with a thin smile. She dragged George out of the kitchen before he could protest and start an argument he would lose anyway. When public image was at stake, Lockwood always had the last word.

They got home three hours later, arms tired from carrying heavy bags. George’s suit weighed a ton, so did her shoes. She thought then that the platforms might have been overkill. Especially since she still didn’t know what she was going to wear. Finding something appropriate had taken longer than expected. Not for George, who bought the first cheapest suit he could find to get this over with. He complained louder each time she tried on a dress she didn’t buy. She was as frustrated as he was, really. The weather was getting colder and for some reason all she could find were backless or sleeveless dresses in which she was already too cold just by trying them on. Between George’s complaints and her feet growing tired y/n thought about giving up more than once. They started to walk back, discussing the plan for their very busy evening the following night when George interrupted himself.

“Look!”

“What? What is it?”

“In the window across the street. That could fit you for tomorrow night, right?”

She looked across to see a long-sleeved black jumpsuit on the mannequin in the shop in front of them. It was simple but very elegant, with a square neckline, a tight body giving the illusion of a corset, and wider pants long enough to touch the floor. The platforms would come in handy here. Since it was George’s idea, she told him he wasn’t allowed to complain if it didn’t fit. She went inside and came back out fifteen minutes later with another heavy bag to carry home.

---

She couldn’t help the tremor in her hand while she applied mascara on her eyelashes. As the hours went on, y/n could feel the knot in her stomach tighten. The idea of spending the night at such a sophisticated event made her nervous. She was incredibly intimidated, especially considering the type of crowd she would have to face. Being surrounded by rich and elegant people was not something she was used to, and tonight she would have to talk to them to make sure they saw her there. It added a stinging salt to her already oozing wound. She fixed her hair for the tenth time in the past fifteen minutes, checking her reflection under every angle. She jumped and dropped her hairbrush when someone knocked on the door to the attic.

“y/n, are you alright?”

She recognized Lockwood’s voice and told him to come in. She bent down to retrieve her hairbrush and when she looked back up she saw him standing next to the mirror, wide-eyed and silent.

“Do I look this bad?”

“You… No! No, no on the contrary you look…” He blushed as he looked into her eyes.

“You look great.” He said shyly.

She didn’t think she had ever seen him so flustered. Had she not been so nervous, she might have read into his reaction. But her nerves were so unsettled that she simply smiled back at him before putting on her lipstick. She had picked a dark red to complete her elegant look for the night. She focused on the reflection of her lips. When she looked back up Lockwood was gone. She wondered if she had imagined his eyes following her every movement in the mirror. He was acting strange, but it was a very stressful night. She couldn’t even stop her hands from shaking. It was surprising coming from him, but they had never been in that situation before. Confused, she went to sit on her bed to put on her shoes. Another knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes?”

Lockwood was back, the same bewildered expression on his face.

“I’ve never seen you with lipstick.”

“Well, it’s not really my priority when going out to fight visitors all night.” She joked.

He kept staring insistently at her.

“What is it? Did I get some on my teeth?” She stood back up to look in the mirror again. Everything had to be perfect. She inspected every inch of her face, every tooth, every hair. Movement behind her made her look up to see Lockwood stepping closer in the reflection, reaching for something in his pocket.

“Here, I thought it would make you look even more elegant than you already are.”

He took out a red velvet pouch and revealed a pearl necklace.

“Lockwood… that’s… very thoughtful. Thank you.” She hoped the warm lights of her bedroom were enough to hide the red that had spread across her cheeks. He detached the clasp and went to stand behind her. She looked back into the mirror as he placed the necklace around her neck. She pushed her hair away, her hand softly brushing against his for a second. His gaze remained fixed on her reflection, the dark brown of his irises looking even warmer in the soft dim light. He looked back at her neck.

“They belonged to my mother.” He said as he fastened the clasp.

She looked at him in the mirror with surprise. He was smiling. A soft, delicate smile. He had rendered her speechless. For the briefest moment, the party didn’t matter, the past few months and everything that had led her there tonight weren’t as important. She was here, now, with him and everything was okay.

She blinked and turned around.

“Lockwood I can’t-”

“It’s nothing, really. Plus, you’ll fit right in tonight looking like this.” He winked, his smile back to its usual wolfish grin. “I’ll go get us a cab, George should be about ready too.”

Before she could protest, he was down the stairs, asking George if was ready, leaving her standing there, a hand resting on the necklace. She looked back at her reflection. The pearls did make her look rich and sophisticated, she admitted to herself. Lockwood had never talked to her about his family. She was incredibly flattered by this gift, and most importantly by the fact that he had opened up, even just a little. The softness of his eyes kept flashing back in her mind. She breathed in deeply, more assured than she was. He had quite an effect on her, she thought. The brush of his skin on hers, his soft breathing in her neck… If only he had stood closer, even just for an instant. She stopped her mind from going any further. The butterflies in her stomach were back and her heart was ready to jump out of her chest, but it’d have to wait. They had a party to attend and some documents to steal.

She came down the stairs to join Lockwood and George, ready to leave. George was adjusting his bowtie in the mirror in the living room. She was surprised to see him look quite dashing.

“George, promise me you’ll make an effort to socialize and be as visible as you can tonight.”

“Easy for you to say, it’ll be second nature for you to be at the center of attention!”

Lockwood laughed as he headed for the door and stopped in his tracks when she entered the room.

“Especially if I have the most gorgeous girl at the party on my arm.” He said after a pause.

She blushed furiously at the remark. He had never complimented her so much, or been so kind to her before. She tried to keep a stiff upper lip, but really she was close to falling on her knees. It was like he loved tormenting her.

They stayed staring at each other in silence, their smiles getting wider every second.

“I think I liked it better when you were fighting.” Said George in an exasperated tone.

Lockwood ignored him as he crossed the room to offer her his arm.

“Shall we?”

---

The ride over to the fundraiser was a silent one, though the three of them were agitated. George kept adjusting his bowtie and cleaning his glasses, y/n checked her lipstick in her pocket mirror every five minutes. Lockwood kept fidgeting, but it wasn’t really unusual for him. While they kept glancing anxiously at the road, he alternatively looked through each window like a toddler wondering if they were there yet. y/n did not share his excitement. She gripped the pearls around her neck and took a deep breath. Lockwood nudged his knee against hers to get her attention.

“It’s gonna go just fine.” He said in a low voice.

She smiled but it was rigid, almost fake. Panic was slowly strengthening its grip on her. What was she supposed to talk about with these people all night? She didn’t have Lockwood’s natural talent and ease when it came to socializing. She was terrified of saying something wrong and making a fool of herself. He rested a hand on her knee, bringing her out of her overwhelming thoughts.

“You’ll be great.”

She reached for his hand as she whispered a low ‘thank you’.

Despite his best efforts to reassure her, the crowd on the sidewalk and the animation coming from the mansion brought back her insecurities. Everyone looked so elegant and influential that she instantly felt out of place.

The look on George’s face reassured her a little bit. She wasn’t the only one desperate to go home. They got out of the cab and mingled in the crowd waiting to check their coats. y/n took a first look at the faces she would have to talk to during the night, trying to recognize anyone that would be easier to talk to. None of them looked like she could have seen them around at Fittes, or clients she could have worked with. She did notice the catering van parked in front of an alleyway next to the house, the waiters and waitresses all gathered next to it. She saw Lucy and Norrie with them, acting professional. Before she could try to get their attention and ask them if they were okay, Lockwood grabbed her arm and led her inside.

The elegance of the hall did not prepare her for the spectacular room in which the event took place. An imposing marble staircase was lit with candles, so many she couldn’t count them all, yet it was only half as much as the ones lighting up the crystal chandelier illuminating the room and taking up half the ceiling. If the Silverpoint Organization was a non-profit, they showed none of it during their receptions. The room was full of eloquent people, as she expected, most of them middle aged. Most men wore a lavender pin on their lapel, but some of them had a silver brooch in the shape of a harp instead. Women wore them too. She didn’t know what it stood for and felt foolish, dreading the interactions to come even more now. Every now and then she saw agents in the crowd. Fittes, Rotwell, Tendy’s, Bunchurch too. Unsure what to do, George and y/n looked expectantly at Lockwood.

“Why don’t you two mingle, I’ll go get us some drinks.” He said cheerfully before leaving them to fend for themselves.

They didn’t have time to protest, he was already lost in the crowd. George turned to her, suggesting that they should make a break for it while they still could. As much as she wished they could leave, she couldn’t bail on their plan now.

“I’ll make hot cocoa with extra whipped cream and those mini marshmallows you love so much!” He insisted with a pleading look.

“As much as I want to, we can’t.”

Before he could add anything that was likely to change her mind, the ringing of glasses rose through the air and soon the room fell silent. At the top of the grand staircase stood a man, stoic while he waited for the last conversations to die out.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” y/n was taken aback by the authority in his voice. She mustn’t have been the only one. The first few guests at the end of the staircase had stood straighter at the words.

“I am Theodor Mullet, chairman of Mullet and Sons and your host for the night,” he continued, “I hope you are all enjoying your evening so far. The music will continue in a moment but first I wanted to thank you all for attending and for your generous donations. As you know, the Silverpoint Organization has been helping our brave agents in the small way it can for over 20 years now.” He went on to describe the actions the Organization had taken over the years, reassuring the attendees that their money would be put to good use. Even though she knew for a fact that the donations in question would be spent on the black market, a part of her couldn’t help but believe he was telling the truth. The way he stood, tall and broad with his dark hair greying on the temples and his black glasses framing his gaze made him look straightforward. He didn’t have the appearance of a lying politician like she expected, instead he looked very matter-of-fact, what you would expect of a businessman at the head of one of the largest companies in the country. As she analyzed his every feature, she noticed that he too wore a silver brooch in the shape of a harp on the lapel of his vest. She wondered what kind of association he shared with the guests she had seen with the same accessory in the crowd.

“It was all the more important to me that all agencies attend this event, as both the Silverpoint Organization and Mullet&Sons want to further our relationship with them and support them all in keeping the nation safe. The courage of those young people is truly worth all our admiration, which is why I invite you all to raise a glass to the bravery of the agents present here with us tonight. May all agencies, big or small, defeat the Problem.” He raised his glass to the audience, and all guests followed suit. Many people were now staring at her and George with a mix of respect and pity.

“I could really use a drink… Where is Lockwood?” She said, turning towards George to avoid looking at the rest of the crowd.

“I don’t know… I think I’ll go try the buffet.”

y/n was too nervous to eat anything, especially with all this unwanted attention directed towards her. It didn’t seem to matter to George who was already gone before she could tell him that. She went her separate way to look for Lockwood in the crowd. It wouldn’t have surprised her if she found him charming some prestigious guests with dazzling stories about one of their cases. He was made for this after all and he had a knack for embellishing random anecdotes, turning them into thrilling quests. She tried to break through the crowd as respectfully as she could, overhearing small talk about what a fantastic man Theodor Mullet was or vivid debates about what the Organization’s next actions should be. She grew desperate the longer she looked. Without Lockwood, she didn’t think she could manage talking about those topics for an entire evening.

Relief flooded her when she spotted him next to the bar, glasses in hand. She got closer and stopped a few feet away, frozen. Her already dreadful evening turned even worse. She watched as El gently but confidently stroked his arm, throwing their head back in an exaggerated laughter that rose above the commotion. They did always have a flare for the dramatic. Lockwood smiled politely, but she couldn’t tell if he was genuinely enjoying talking to them. She dismissed the idea immediately. El was too proud, too flashy and overall, too much and Lockwood couldn’t enjoy the company of someone like this. Or could he? He looked around the room but didn’t notice the small sign she gave him, discreetly asking if he needed help. Before she could try something else, he was drawn back into the conversation, El clinging to his arm more every passing second. The knot in her stomach tightened.

She looked over at the buffet where George was having a better time than she was, enjoying the canapes that Lucy and Norrie or some of their colleagues for the night had brought out. She tried to spot the girls to make sure everything was fine but she couldn’t find them among the waiters. When she looked back over at Lockwood, El had placed a hand on his chest, now stroking his tie. She reached them in two strides, not minding the people previously in her way.

“There you are!” She pressed a kiss on his cheek. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Thank you for getting me a drink!” She said as she reached for the second glass he had in hand, interlocking her arm with his.

She looked up to see the confused look on his face. She ignored it and stared at El with feigned surprise.

“Oh… long time no see.”

El was staring back with barely hidden disgust.

“So you two are-”

“I heard you didn’t make it into Kipps’ team…” She didn’t let them finish. “That’s too bad.”

Their eyes darkened at that mention.

“I’ve moved on to better things.”

y/n huffed as she rolled her eyes.

“I’ve been working closely with Mrs. Dufour actually.” They said with a proud smirk. “It pays really well. And I get to meet a lot of influential people… Very influential. If I were you, I’d watch my back.”

She was barely surprised at that revelation.

“I see your loyalty hasn’t changed. At least it looks like your nose just about recovered, that’s a relief.” She forced a smile. Lockwood was staring at her with confusion, not saying a word.

She started to turn away, dragging Lockwood by the hand with her, when they forcefully grabbed her arm.

“I’m sorry your late-night encounter with Rasler didn’t manage to drive you out of town. Maybe next time I’ll finish the job myself.”

Lockwood untangled his arm and came to stand between them. His features were sharper than usual, his jaw clenched in anger. Even when they had particularly bad fights, he never looked so stern.

“Oh you have your prince charming coming to your rescue now! How adorable.”

They both were about to protest when El continued.

“Please don’t make a scene, this a class A event after all.” They looked back at her. “Not that you should get used to that, y/n.”

El then turned away and headed for the bar.

“Are you okay?” Lockwood asked her, worried.

“I should be the one to ask you that. How long were you stuck talking to them?”

He instinctively offered her his arm as they walked away from the scene.

“They ambushed me right after the speech. You have some very questionable acquaintances.”

“Well, I did punch them in the face, it made the inconvenience more palatable.”

She was about to take a sip of her champagne when Lockwood stopped abruptly, making her almost spill her drink. He looked at his reflection in one of the mirrors adorning the room before turning towards her.

“y/n, have I been walking around with your lipstick on my cheek for the past ten minutes?”

She laughed, louder than she had meant, only now paying attention to the very defined dark red shape of her lips on his pale skin.

“That’s not funny I look ridiculous!”

“It’s a little bit funny.” She said gasping for air. “Admit it!”

He smiled, but the blush on his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment.

“It’ll come off easily I swear!” She said, dragging him out of the ballroom to look for a bathroom.

He kept his hand on his cheek, trying to hide the source of his shame. y/n had stopped laughing, the realization of what she had done only hitting her now. It was her turn to blush. She wasn’t thinking, she acted on instinct. But why did her instinct have to make her do this in particular?

They reached a corridor lit with golden sconces on the wall. The light was softer here, giving the space a more intimate atmosphere.

“Was the kiss really necessary?” Lockwood asked in a lower voice now that they were further from the crowd.

She forced her embarrassment down and used all the courage she could muster to look in his eyes. His smirk betrayed the seriousness of his tone. He was messing with her.

“Next time I’ll let you fend for yourself.” She answered.

“Do you have many more nemeses I should be on the lookout for?”

“No, I don’t. Unless Dufour decides to go for someone half her age.” She joked.

“I should be safe from this kind of situation then.”

She looked through every door, looking for any room that would have a sink or a vanity, anything to help save his case.

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that if I were you.” She said absentmindedly, opening yet another door. “You’re young, attractive, you own your company… How come in a place as big as this one none of these doors are bathrooms?”

“You think I’m-”

“Ah! There we are, finally!” She led him into the powder room. She looked for a tissue or anything that would help him get the lipstick stain off. The room matched the elegance of the mansion, fancy soaps and cloth towels displayed next to the sink for the comfort of the guests. She ran a hand towel under the faucet, added some soap and handed it to Lockwood. He stared at her for a few seconds, before reaching for it. He rubbed the cloth on his face, staining it red. Somehow, he made the mark bigger, spreading it across his whole cheek. She laughed as he helplessly looked up at her in the mirror.

“This is all your fault, need I remind you.”

He tried to look upset, but soon he laughed with her at the scene, mocking his own reflection.

“I look like a clown.”

She took the cloth out of his hand and told him to crouch a little so she could take care of it. He leaned slightly against the sink, enough to meet her at eye level. She gently lifted and turned his chin to clean the rest of her lipstick off. He looked at her softly while she worked. She tried to ignore him or the way the soft bathroom light made his eyes sparkle. His eyelashes looked longer somehow. Maybe it was because she was seeing them from so close.

“There.” She said softly. “It’s gone.”

She looked back into his eyes. He was already staring. He smiled softly but didn’t say anything.

“You could thank me, you know?”

“For cleaning up your mess? Do you want a medal too?” He smiled wider. She laughed.

“You jerk!” She threw the towel at him, without doing much damage as it was thrown from so close. “I could also make it worse.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He said defiantly.

She held his stare, becoming increasingly aware of their proximity. Heat creeped up her cheeks, but she didn’t want to move. Instead, she leaned into it, inching ever so slightly closer to him. She rested her hand on the edge of the sink, her fingers meeting the warmth of the back of his hand instead. He opened his palm and wrapped his fingers around hers. He subtly parted his lips, making her look at them then back into his eyes. He did the same. His other hand came to rest on her waist. His touch was delicate and soft, yet it was enough to send shivers down her back. It reached the small of her back, bringing her slowly closer to him, his eyes still focused on hers.

The door suddenly opened, making them both jump up in surprise.

“This isn’t the bathroom!” He man said loudly in the hallway before shutting the door.

She instinctively checked her hair in the mirror. Lockwood stood straighter, clearing his throat. She looked back at him with a thin smile, hoping the dim light hid her crimson cheeks.

“Thank you… for your help.”

“Oh you’re welcome!” She stammered. “You’re very welcome.”

They stood awkwardly, not sure what to do next.

“y/n… Do you…”

“I- uh we should go.”

She exited the room, flushed and a little disoriented. Lockwood called after her, asking her to wait. She wanted to turn back, desperately so, but a voice inside her head kept her from it. They were colleagues, she reminded herself. The voice of reason that had snuck into her head the morning after they fell asleep on the couch came screaming back, listing everything that was questionable about her behaviour. She never would have dared anything like this when she was at Fittes’. Lockwood’s recklessness was rubbing off on her and her conscience wasn’t having any of it. Her crush was inappropriate and now was certainly not the time to get lost in it. She headed back towards the ballroom to make sure enough guests witnessed her presence, but Lockwood caught up with her, reaching for her hand.

“y/n wait, please. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have…”

She looked back at him, her face still flushed from the moment they had shared.

“No, it’s me. I let my feelings get the best of me. We should really head back before someone notices we’re missing.” She said as she tried to regain composure.

“Your… feelings?” He asked, intrigued. He tried to act casual, but a grin had already formed at the corner of his mouth.

She didn’t think it was possible to be more embarrassed but here she was. She looked at him with wide eyes, realizing what had slipped out of her mouth and hurried back to the reception, hoping that the night wouldn’t get any worse. She heard Lockwood run after her and she instinctively hid among the guests in response. She grabbed a glass of champagne being served by one of the waiters and swallowed it down in full gulps. If anything else didn’t go as expected, at least she would find it funny. She spotted George still standing next to the buffet. He was joined by Lockwood a few minutes later, who still scanned the crowd, she guessed he was looking for her. She turned her back to him to avoid his eyes and knocked into someone. She apologized profusely, silently cursing this night and everything that had led her there in the first place.

“y/n? What are you doing here?”

She looked up to see her old team leader standing there, glass of champagne in hand, wearing a tuxedo that somehow made him look even more intimidating than his grey uniform.

“Kipps! Hi!” She answered.

“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight!”

“Me neither if I’m honest. You’re here to represent Fittes I’m guessing?”

“Officially yes.” He said, but his voice had an edge.

“Officially?”

“I’m actually glad to see you again. I could use your insight on something.” He added in a growingly ominous tone.

“Kipps, what’s going on?” She asked impatiently.

“Yeah Kipps, what’s going on?” said a voice behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know that Lockwood was looking down at him with the smug look he always had when he fed into that ridiculous rivalry of theirs.

“Not now Tony, I need y/n’s advice on something.”

“Oh really? And what would that be, Kipps? Put your team members in unfathomable danger again? How many children have you traumatized this time?”

“Lockwood, please. This is important.” She had no idea what Kipps wanted her advice on, but she wasn’t ready to face Lockwood yet. She wouldn’t be for a while. She looked up at him to silently tell him to go. He looked back at her and his smile vanished. She didn’t think this would hurt him, but however ridiculous his fight with Kipps was, his pride was taking a hit having to walk away. It didn’t help that Kipps added insult to injury with snobbish remarks, not caring how childish it made him look.

She started to walk towards an empty corner of the room, grabbing another glass on her way. Kipps followed closely.

“What is this all about Kipps?”

“I’m not just here to represent Fittes.” He paused significantly, as if he enjoyed building some kind of suspense around his intentions. “I’m trying to collect more information on Dufour.”

She stayed quiet for a minute as she tried to process what all it implied. On the one hand, they had a potential new ally in this mess. On the other hand, Kipps could make their whole plan fail and this would not end well. She took another sip to calm her nerves and frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“y/n, you never needed to tell me what happened for me to understand that she fired you because you got in the way.”

A new wave of panic washed over her. She hadn’t told him the whole story, she reminded herself. And she hadn’t seen him since that awful article had been published to humiliate her. There was no way he could have come to the same conclusions.

“I mean, you noticed a lot earlier than me how strange she was acting. After that article came out, I kept an eye on her when I could. There was more and more chatter among supervisors about her. Many clients had started complaining and it was reaching higher level executives. It was pretty obvious where all of this was heading.” He said in a sly tone. She finished her glass. Maybe he had.

“She’s getting fired and tries to find a job with the Organization!” He concluded, congratulating his deduction skills. At least he wasn’t onto them. She was about to ask what kind of advice he expected her to give him when he started monologuing again. He visibly hadn’t told anyone about this and was getting too enthusiastic finally sharing his theories.

“I’ve already talked to a few guests about this, subtly mind you. I try to stay discreet on this whole thing. I managed to talk to one of the members of the Organization and left him with plenty to think about.” He said with a grin.

“What do you… I mean, what kind of advice are you looking for exactly?”

“Well let’s just say that the few anecdotes I shared tonight might jeopardize some of Dufour’s opportunities.” He winked at her. “I didn’t really need your advice, I just wanted to tell you that what she did is unforgivable, and she had no right to take you off my team. I’m just making sure she pays her dues.”

Apparently in Dufour’s case karma had a name and it was Quill F. Kipps. She smiled and the alcohol made her laugh much more than anticipated. She held onto him as she threw her head back in a fit of laughter, tears starting to prickle the corner of her eyes.

“That’s really sweet of you Kipps, thank you.” She said when her breathing evened out.

“I was proud to have you on my team y/n.” He said, raising his glass. She grabbed another one on a tray a waiter was passing around to clink a glass with his.

“You know,” She said, taking another sip, “I was always so intimidated by you. I was constantly trying to impress you.”

“Well, you did.”

Even though they hadn’t worked together in months, his recognition still made her feel queasy. Or maybe she was drunker than she realized. She looked away, searching for her reflection to make sure she wasn’t as red as she felt she was. Instead, she saw Lockwood watching the whole scene.

“Would you like to dance, maybe?” Kipps asked behind her.

She looked back at him, unable to refuse after what he had done for her. They headed towards the dancing crowd and when she looked back, Lockwood was gone. She tried to focus on her steps and not let him distract her movements. Her head was dangerously dizzy and if it was not for Kipps’ arm around her waist she would have fallen down twice already.

The song felt like it was going on forever, her feet were killing her and a headache started to hurt her temples. After another spin, she spotted Norrie’s red hair from afar, tray in hand and a wide smile on her face. She locked eyes with her and winked before heading back towards the buffet. Did Lucy manage to get the documents? She tried to look around to see if George or Lockwood had the folder. There were so many faces to look at. She lost her balance and tripped, saved by her dancing partner’s quick reflexes.

“y/n are you okay? You should drink some water.” He said as he led her towards the bar. He helped her sit down and brought her a glass, checking if she was alright. He never let go of her hand the whole time.

“I’m fine, I think I just had too much champagne.”

She barely had the time to take a sip of water when a familiar voice resonated behind her.

“What the hell did you do to her?”

She felt Lockwood place his arm behind her back, his touch just as warm as it had been a few hours earlier. His other hand reached her chin, making her look up at him with sleepy eyes.

“Did he make you drink too much?” He asked her in a softer tone, worry filling his voice.

“This is ridiculous!” Kipps answered.

“You shut up!”

“Come on Tony, throwing a tantrum because I danced with your girlfriend, seriously?”

“You-”

“Lockwood! I’m okay, I swear.” She intervened. “Kipps you’ve been great tonight. Thank you for everything, but don’t ruin it now.” She squeezed his hand before letting go. She turned back towards Lockwood. “Maybe we should go now? The first guests seem to be leaving too.”

He hadn’t stopped glaring towards Kipps. When he looked back down at her, he sighed before agreeing.

“Why don’t you go look for George? I’ll be with you in a minute.”

He seemed surprised at her words, like he couldn’t conceive letting her alone with Kipps any longer. He pressed his hand against her back before heading towards the hall. She stood back up, struggling with the height of her heals. Kipps helped her up, holding her still as she tried to find her balance.

“Thank you for everything, Kipps. I never thought you would help me get revenge on Dufour and I have to say that I greatly appreciate it.”

“I tried being the bigger person but it didn’t work out too well for me.”

She teased him once more about the childish fight he had with Lockwood, not convinced that he could ever be the bigger person. They laughed, and she felt truly happy at the comradery they shared. She offered to meet him some time for coffee. He agreed and told her she should probably get back to her boss to avoid any trouble at home. She answered that he was annoying as they hugged goodbye and he ruffled her hair in exchange. With a smile, she headed towards the entrance where Lockwood was already waiting with her coat in hand.

As soon as they got in the car, Lockwood pulled a folder out of his jacket. His smile was radiant as he went over the numbers. They were more than enough to put the Organization in trouble, and hopefully Dufour with it too. As enthusiastic as he was, they were too exhausted to be receptive. George swore he would never set foot in this kind of event ever again while y/n struggled to stay awake.

“I’d rather fight thirteen limbless than talk to another member of that stupid organization.” He exclaimed, shuffling in his seat, disturbing her as she rested her head against the window. There was no time for her to fall asleep, as the cab was already slowing down in front of the house.

George practically jumped out of the car, eager to go to bed to “put this horrible night behind him”. She didn’t know what happened that made him so irritable, but she was sure she had missed something while she was talking to Kipps. Lockwood stepped out next, waiting beside the door to help her out. It was out of necessity more than chivalry since her knees buckled when she stood up. Never leaving her side, he helped her up the stairs into the hall. She started walking or rather stumbling towards the stairs when Lockwood stopped her in her tracks.

“You should drink at least two full glasses of water before sleeping.”

She didn’t answer and simply pouted like a child.

“Fine, if you can walk up to the attic on your own, I won’t make you drink water.”

She gave him an exaggerated smile and immediately tripped over the first step. He put his arm around her and led her towards the kitchen.

She rested against the countertop while he poured her a glass from the tap. She drank it all and he filled it up again. She smiled lazily. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him. He stared back, making sure she drank it all. The stood there for a few minutes in a comfortable silence, wordlessly getting lost in each other’s eyes.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” She said while tilting her head to the side.

It was a bad call. She couldn’t even move her head without being a fall risk.

He caught her just in time, as he always had this evening, and held her closer to start the long climb to the attic. She rested her face against his chest, nestling and taking comfort in his reassuring scent.

“Oh no…” She muttered under her breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m putting make-up all over your shirt.” Her voice was sad but she made no move to try and stop it.

“It’s not the first time you put your make-up all over me tonight, darling. I think I’ll be alright.”

After the first flight of stairs, she slouched even more against him. Instead of taking the way up to the attic, he led her towards the opposite end of the hallway in his room. She didn’t register until he laid her down on his bed. The blanket she felt underneath her fingertips wasn’t the same texture as the one she had gotten used to.

“Lockwood I can’t sleep in your bed.” She mumbled, her face pressed into a pillow.

“Of course you can. You’re half asleep already.”

“Yeah but-”

“I’ll go sleep in your bed for tonight.”

She muttered an “okay” barely audible, drifting in and out of consciousness.

“I think that’s enough drinking and dancing for a while.” He said as he pressed a soft kiss against her temple.

“Hardly, I didn’t even get to dance with you!” Her eyelids started to close. “You’re the only one I wanted to dance with.”

She closed her eyes and fell asleep instantly, not noticing when Lockwood exited the room quietly.

---

She woke up to the sound of hammers from the construction across the street. The sun burned her eyes and a painful headache pressed her forehead when she tightly closed her eyelids. She reached for the closest pillow and buried her head under it, hoping to draw out the hurtful sound and the blinding light. It didn’t do much, but it had the perk of surrounding her with a familiar comforting scent. She didn’t know how long she stayed like this. She remembered this wasn’t her room and she was surprised that no one had come in yet. She turned on her side and opened her eyes carefully. The first thing she saw was a glass of water resting on the bedside table. The second was Lockwood’s clothes from last night hanging on the back of his chair. She stared at them for a while, wondering if he had been comfortable enough to change in the same room she was passed out in. While she was sleeping in his bed, nonetheless. She tried the best she could to sit up. Drinking on an empty stomach had not done her any favor. There wasn’t much chance she would get anything done today. She drank the glass left for her and rose up with great difficulty.

Everything hurt. She made her way down the stairs, and by the time she reached the kitchen someone had made her a plate with warm toast. It was sitting on the table at the seat she usually took but there was no one around to greet her. She forced herself to eat even though her stomach wasn’t cooperative and drank as much water as she could, hoping it would help getting over her hangover. The house was quiet. It was a nice change from the noises that had woken her up but it was unsettling not hearing any sign of life. Usually when she thought she was alone she would still hear Lockwood training in the basement or George mutter something under his breath while researching a case. It was rare that the both of them left at the same time. She wondered where they could have gone as she made her way back up the stairs. She passed the library and the turning of pages made her turn around. Lockwood was sitting in his armchair, flipping through his magazine the way he usually did in the late hours of the night after a case. He was impeccable as always and she felt acutely self-conscious standing there at the beginning of the afternoon with messy hair and probably runny make-up all over her face. If he looked up from his magazine she didn’t pay him any attention and ran upstairs to try and look more presentable, no matter how awful she felt.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked when she came back down, not looking up from what he was reading. She took the sit next to him.

“As good as I can.” She answered, massaging her temples.

He pushed forward a glass of water on the table between them.

“Where’s George?” She asked between two sips.

“I sent him to deliver the documents to DEPRAC. I thought he was better suited to leave it anonymously with a semblance of discretion. If Barnes ever saw me there, we could never get away with it.”

“Smart.” She had avoided his eyes the entire time. The entire night was blurry, but the alcohol had not erased the specific memories she was trying to ignore. They stayed in an uncomfortable silence until he finished his magazine, eventually closing it and putting it back on the table between them. The ghost-jar was back into the fireplace, covered in ashes with burn marks here and there. She wondered when George had found the time to keep experimenting on it with how busy they had been these past few weeks. Instead of making its usual horrible faces it simply stared at her. It looked over at Lockwood who didn’t seem to pay him no mind, then back at her with that same insistent stare. It made her even more uncomfortable than the heavy silence filling the room. When she got up to get away from it, it smiled. A crude and devilish smile. What a horrid wretched thing. She was too distracted to realize that Lockwood had followed her into the hall.

“y/n, about last night…”

Before she could turn around, the entire chain of events flashed before her eyes. What part did he want to talk about: her drunken state, the night she spent in his bed, the lipstick mark she left on his cheek or the way she almost kissed him? She couldn’t pick which would be more embarrassing. She didn’t want to talk about any of it either. She didn’t even want to think about it, though this part was harder than it looked. Heat rose to her cheeks at the memory of his hand around her waist in that first-floor bathroom. After behaving so recklessly, a conversation like this was bound to happen. They might as well get it over with.

“I just wanted to say…”

When she finally mustered the courage to look him in the eye, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” She said, hurrying to open the door.

It was Kipps, coming to see if she was feeling better.

“I’m doing alright! Thanks for checking in.”

“I brought you some chocolate chip cookies from a bakery near my flat. Thought they could help.”

“That’s sweet of you Kipps but we’re a doughnut family here.” Lockwood said before snatching the bag out of his hands, coming behind her to wave Kipps away. Kipps ignored him and turned his attention back to her.

“If you’re feeling okay maybe we could grab that cup of coffee you talked about last night?”

“Thanks but I’m still feeling a bit sick, I’d love to go out when I’m fully recovered though!”

“Sure, give me a call when you’re free. Take care, alright?”

“I will, thank you.”

She waved back at him as he left and slowly closed the door behind her. Lockwood was standing silently at the bottom of the stairs.

“You asked Kipps to get coffee after what happened last night?”

“Yes, he’s been a real friend to me. He’s helping me with Dufour without me asking.”

“What do you mean he’s helping you? Have you been cooperating with him behind our backs?”

“Of course not! I just found out he’s been giving her bad press.”

“So, it wasn’t a date then?”

“Are you jealous of Quill Kipps?” She asked with a laugh.

“How dare you say something like that under my roof!”

They both smiled at the situation, easing the tension that was there a few minutes earlier.

“But seriously, y/n. I wanted to apologize about last night. I never meant to make anything weird or-”

“Can we just say that we both acted dumb?”

He took a few seconds to consider her offer.

“Well, you started it.” He grinned.

She looked at him defiantly. She would not take the fall for this, even though her unrequited crush was definitely to blame.

“Didn’t you call me darling last night?”

He blushed at the mention, only saved by the front door opening and letting George in, followed closely by Inspector Barnes. The intrusion of the DEPRAC representative took them aback. They stared mutely back and forth between George and the inspector, waiting for an explanation. The man stared back at them, a familiar folder in hand. Without saying a word, Lockwood led him to the living room. y/n closed the door before joining them. Barnes stood in the middle of the room, glaring between them, holding up the folder and pointing it accusingly at Lockwood.

“I don’t want to know how you could have gotten your hand on these documents.”

“I’ve never seen that folder before in my life.” Lockwood replied, feigning innocence.

“Shut it! I don’t care how you did it, I know it was you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have caught Karim here sneaking out of Scotland Yard after an ‘anonymous contribution’ was made for the case you seem to be tied to.” He glared in her direction to punctuate his words. After holding her stare in an anger-fueled silence, he looks down in resignation. “As much as I hate to admit it, this evidence makes our case stronger against the Silverpoint Organization.”

She couldn’t help a thin smile to form on her lips. She looked back at Lockwood, relieved. He was already looking back at her with a soft smile. He winked before looking back at Barnes with a proud smile.

“Don’t even dare congratulate yourselves for this. Next time you step out of line, one mistake and I revoke your license and shut down this agency for good.”

They all looked down, trying to hide their joy at hearing that their plan had worked. After a few more minutes of silent scolding, the inspector aimed for the door.

“An audit of the organization’s finances will start in a few days and we’ll probably put an end to your surveillance.” He turned back. “That does not mean that you should get back to breaking any law-”

“Does that mean that Dufour will be arrested soon?” y/n couldn’t help asking, interrupting Barnes who had an exasperated look on his face. He sighed.

“Unfortunately, like any person involved in relic dealings the only evidence that can guarantee an arrest are catching the perpetrators in the act. I’m afraid Mrs. Dufour will remain free for now.” He didn’t seem as frustrated as she was. Probably because this kind of injustice was commonplace in his line of work. Still, her highest hopes came crashing down. The rollercoaster from the joy of their success to this disillusion made her sick.

“Oh.” She simply said.

“I’ll do my best to get her complaint against you dropped. Don’t get the idea of putting yourself in any more danger to get more evidence yourself. Am I clear?”

“Perfectly clear, inspector.”

The three of them led him back to the front door. When she closed it behind him, George and Lockwood both placed an arm around her.

“We’ll figure something out.” Lockwood said. “I promise.”

“It’s alright.” She said in a flat tone. “I’ll go lie down for a while, I think I’m still sick from the champagne.”

As she went up the stairs, her mind was already reeling. If Barnes couldn’t get the evidence he needed to put Dufour away for good, she’d find a way to do it herself.

#who follows the rules anyway #ukuwrites #lockwood and co fic #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co #george karim #lucy carlyle #norrie white #quill kipps #montagu barnes #save lockwood and co

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yesimwriting · 11 months

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Slow Nights

A/n in a bit of a jason todd mood and i’ve been dealing with the writers block that comes from going through a rough couple of days, so i’m just going with the flow!

also i feel like the fic world has shifted away from first person, but i was in the mood for it and i write to improve and felt like working on my first person voice😭 pls forgive me

Summary: There are a lot of risks that come from being a female waitress at a small diner in Gotham. You didn’t realize that one of them would be developing a small crush cautious friendship with the intimidating, broody guy that keeps weird hours and always squeezes himself into the smallest booth near the window with a paper back.

----

Appreciate the slow nights. That’s what Marta said before my first closing shift, when it was just the two of us and the long window that displayed a nearly empty street. I understood instantly. In Gotham, nothing’s guaranteed. Most criminals--petty or psychotic supervillain--don’t have the decency to wait until nightfall for their crimes. But there’s something about working until 3 AM that’s eerie, like you’re daring some testosterone fueled, ego maniac that’s had a little too much to drink to do rob you. Or worse.

“You think anyone would notice if we closed early?” It’s not an actual offer, just part of our routine. I ask this question anytime between 1:00 and 2:00 and Marta pretends to contemplate as she wipes down a counter or sweeps or does anything she can to keep busy. Her answer is always something about how Bobby, the owner, has a sixth sense about these kind of things or some other kind of joke that makes Bobby seem like the bottom line obsessed ass he is.

She lets out a small sound at the back of her throat, ending her dutiful organization of plastic protected menus. “I think that boyfriend of yours would.”

The comment strikes a nerve deep in my stomach. An uncomfortable warmth begins to spread through my face. The fact that she’s straying from her usual joke to poke fun at that amplifies the message. The twitch of her mouth tells me she knows exactly what she’s done. “Oh, he is not--” She’s oddly smug for someone who’s always giving me a warning look when I linger around a certain table too long, a kind of worry that’s so distinctly grandmotherly I can feel the silent warnings against my skin. “He’s a costumer, a regular. That’s it.”

“Your customer,” her eyes are back on her menus, two of them are stuck together, “Your regular.” She pushes the nail of her thumb between the edge of the barriers. They let go of each other with a soft pop.

Maybe I always take Jason’s table, but it’s only because everyone else was too scared to at first and now it’s just...routine. Like Marta and I pretending we’d close more than a few minutes early or the way that Adam, my least favorite closing shift partner, never sweeps correctly and always tries to find an excuse to walk me to my car. “Only because everyone else is too scared to talk to him.”

She hums once, low and disbelieving. “Okay, because you know he--” I frown as Marta struggles to find the words. A part of me wants to tell her she doesn’t need to bother. I know because despite all the teasing, she sees him almost as much as I do. Jason comes in and he’s a living canvas of deep blues and sick yellows and the kind of crimson that has to be fresh.

That’s what initially broke the ice between us. Marta stayed behind the counter and when I finally walked up to his booth, the first thing I noted was the bloody knuckles and the Jane Austen paperback. He asked for a coffee, black. I brought it to him, along with a damp rag and a few bandaids from the first aid kit in the back. I didn’t think about how weird and kind of silly that was until I was at his table. Taking it back to the kitchen after he had seen it felt even more pathetic so I silently set them down next to the coffee. He barely nodded in acknowledgement before turning to his book.

When I came back to bring him his check, he looked particularly annoyed as he stared at the pages in front of him. For a second, the potential aggression turned my blood to ice. Awkwardly, I noted the cover and how far into the book he was, so I nervously mumbled the first thing I thought of. “Darcy, right?” He had looked surprised and I quickly jumped to defend myself, “You just um--you look like you’re around the proposal scene and for me, at least, it’s um--it’s equally bad every time.”

That got his expression to soften a little, enough for him to ask how I had managed to figure out where he was based on his facial expression and how open his book was. After that, it was something else, something that went on until closing and ended with a 20$ tip and a walk to my car.

“You’re too smart for that, Mija.”

Marta’s words bring me back. I nod, the motion hollow. The quick acceptance leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. It’s a betrayal even though Marta didn’t really say anything and nothing she implied was factually wrong. Defensiveness immediately tries to crawl its way out of my throat. There’s a lot I could tell her. It might be so normal for Jason to have his knuckles split that the one time he didn’t, I teased him about it until he threatened to leave early and never come back, but he’s not whatever violence he won’t explain and I won’t ever ask about without a joke barrier for safety. He’s that one smile that makes you feel like you’ve earned something; and the jokes that kind of take you by surprise because you wouldn’t expect someone so physically intimidating to have a sense of humor that lighthearted; and he’s the books he reads, tears through so quickly he almost always has a new cover when he comes in.

“Yeah,” I mumble, trying to convince myself that this isn’t the betrayal it feels like, “He’s just a regular that’s nice to talk to. It’s not like I ask him to come in or anything.” It’s not like I could, considering I have no way of contacting him. It’s not like he’s a friend I could text.

The familiar creek of the front door’s tired hinges has Marta raising her eyebrows at me. A customer...around 2 AM...as we’re talking about Jason. There’s a silent understanding between us and the look she gives me isn’t subtle. We both know exactly who it is, so I push myself away from the kitchen counter we’ve been leaning against and grab a pot of coffee before placing a hand on the door that leads to the counters.

“You ever think the stale coffee isn’t what he comes in for?”

I still, the words rolling in my chest uncomfortably because the thought doesn’t bother me. At all. I push past the door before she can gage my reaction.

He’s already in his usual seat--the farthest booth in the back, right next to the window. “Y’know the other day this family came in, three toddlers they could barely keep track of and a newborn in a stroller and the mom trying to get all their orders while the dad filled out the crossword on his phone.” I start pouring the coffee before I’ve even looked at him. “And the part I was most offended by was that he was sitting right there.”

Jason’s watching me carefully, the curve of his lips gentle, “How dare he?”

I look up, setting the pot on the table next to his cup. Even though I can practically feel Marta’s gaze on us, I can’t help but indulge in this part of our usual exchange. The moment in which I let myself really look at him, examining each part of his face for new or healing bruises or scratches carefully.

There’s only one particularly notable mark, but this one is intense, right beneath an eye that’s clearly swollen. “Right?” I force my eyes to focus on anything else. “We should put up a sign.”

“VIP treatment,” there’s a shift in his tone that I feel more than hear, a precursor to some comment that toes the line between friendly and something else, “You saying I’m your favorite?”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes watching my expression with a carefulness that’s tangible. That’s part of how he plays into the space between casual and flirty, through the small things. “Well, you are my best tipper.”

Jason frowns, pushing himself a little further into his seat as if physically moved by his offense. “So that’s all I’m good for?”

I roll my eyes, ignoring the dangerous warmth settling in my chest. “You never stop me when I start talking about books, so I guess you’re good for that, too.”

“You guess?”

Scoffing, I let my attention fall to the seat across from him. It’s not like I sit with him every time he comes in, if he comes in during daylight hours it’s usually impossible. But nights are different...

Marta’s words come back, a little heavier now.

Jason takes a quick sip of his coffee and looks over at the space in front of him. “...You guys busy?”

There’s something there, trying to hide in the way the sentence comes out. The glue that holds us together is the unspoken-ness of all of it. He never mentions the bandaids and wet rags I bring when he needs them unless he’s making a joke about it. And I never bring up the regularity of his presence.

“Oh, yeah,” I joke, moving to sit across from him, “You should know how busy 2AM is for us by now.” I tap my nails against the surface of the table. “We might have to move you.”

Jason lets out a small sound that’s somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Thought this was my table?”

I shrug, trying my best to not seem too amused. “You were getting too comfortable.” He keeps one hand on the table, relaxing in his seat as he waits for me to continue. “Can’t have you thinking I like you or anything.”

He inhales, letting the silence between us linger. There’s a fragile quality to the space between words that has me focusing on his physical appearance again. I did miss something. Not a bruise or a cut, but the bags beneath his eyes that seem deeper today than they usually are and the shadow tainting his expression and the fact that he hasn’t even mentioned the book he brought in with him.

“I believe you.”

I roll my eyes at his sarcasm because I’m supposed to. There’s no place for that kind of worry, no where for it all to go. He’s just someone that comes in for his coffee. Just someone that keeps me company during closing and sometimes makes a boring afternoon shift more entertaining. “Shut up.”

Jason doesn’t immediately jump to push at what’s clearly a hollow response. The silence eases itself back into existence. Normally lulls like this make me feel flighty or like I need to say anything to make sure I’m not the awkward one. But there’s no stiffness that I feel the need to fight against, it’s just us.

Even though Marta’s definitely only pretending not to watch us as she wipes down the counter that I already cleaned, it really is just me and him, and when it’s like that, it’s easy to talk. Sure, we wrap the layers of heavier stuff in layers of teasing fluff and bad jokes, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

“That eye makes you a little hard to look at.”

He scoffs, his lips pulling downwards. “Ouch. That hurt worse than the punch, sweetheart.”

My nose wrinkles. “Did not.”

“Bruised feelings are--”

I groan before he can get the rest of his words out, “Do not say ‘as bad as a bruised face’.”

Jason’s mouth stays partially open, like the second half of his sentence hasn’t realized that it has no where to go. There’s something kind of funny about easily over 6′, looks like he belongs in some kind of alley Jason glaring at me like an offended goldfish. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re cheesy,” I counter, leaning a little closer as my forearms relax on the table, “I’m just saying you need to take better care of your face, it’s one of your better qualities.”

Oh no. The realization that I’ve made a mistake doesn’t settle until the words are already out of my mouth. Jason’s relaxed posture as he reaches for his coffee makes it clear that he’s noticed, too. I blink, pained at the realization that there’s no where to backtrack to.

He takes a long sip of dark liquid before setting the cup between us. “One of my better qualities?”

The nail of my thumb presses into the wood of the table. “Okay, I said ‘your face was one of your better qualities’, it’s not like I called you hot.”

Jason smiles in a way that’s so damn knowing, “I know.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

He shrugs, still too amused, “Maybe I missed you.”

That’s...new. Sure, he’s been gone for a few days but that’s nothing crazy. It wasn’t even the longest stretch of time he’s disappeared for. All that matters is that Jason’s here more days than he’s not. All that matters is that he eventually comes back and things always feel like he never left.

Part of the reason that it works so seamlessly is because we never talk about his absence (with the exception of me making a joke that must have been cheating on me and him swearing he could never). I never mention that when he does come back, he usually has more marks on his skin than usual...or the fact that I worry.

“Maybe I missed you, too.” It feels like a confession, a weight peeling itself off of my chest. “Even though you’re a total dork.”

“I’m the dork?”

“The ‘one black coffee’ order is trying way too hard for you not to be.” It’s an argument we’ve had before. Black coffee with no additives in the middle of the night, like he’s working at being mysterious even though he cracks open as easily as whatever book he’s reading.

He sits up a little straighter, an argument that likely insults my coffee order clearly ready. The squeak of the front door’s hinges steal the spotlight before Jason can get it out.

I turn my head, looking past the booth and down the aisle. A group of four guys have already stumbled in. I instinctually stand. One of the guys is laughing, slurring out some story I can’t make out as his friend tries to push off of his shoulder as he sways. The shortest starts to laugh as well, punching his friend in the arm as he gestures vaguely towards me. Great.

“We’re closing.” Marta’s voice is firm as she makes her presence clear.

“You close at 3:00,” the tallest one challenges her, stepping further into the space, “That’s what it says on the door...and...” He makes a show of turning over his wrist and checking his watch, “It’s only...2:53.” The number comes out so slurred it twists in my stomach. He shuffles towards the counter, a look that’s too sharp to not feel sober taking over his expression, “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“It’s fine.” My lips press together after the sentence, hoping that Marta feels safe enough to stay out of it. “I’ll seat them.”

I grab a few menus from the hostess counter that Marta stocked for the morning shift. I lead them to the first table that’s angled away from the counter. Marta’s jumpy and not always good at hiding it. Besides, I like the thought of anything shady happening farther from Marta. She has some issues with her right knee and she refuses to get it looked at. If things ever came down to running...

I force the thought out of my head as I set a menu down in front of the seats.

“Thank you, love.” The tall one--when did he get so close.

I nod once, attempting a polite smile that hopefully hides my nerves as I try to side step around him. The back of my arm hits something firm. “Woah.” Something squeezes my shoulder and my entire body turns to stone. “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be so jumpy.”

The taller one angles his body to the left, subtly blocking off my original plan of escape. Part of Marta’s face is blocked by the man’s shoulder, but I can still make out her concern. Her lips part and I want her help as much as I dread it.

“Hey, babe--” Jason. The strangers, weirdly aware for how inebriated they seemed earlier, take their time looking at Jason. They take him and the implication of his presence in quickly. I’m released at a speed that I can barely register. Even the tallest one takes a step back to give me the space to breathe. “You almost done?”

Even though the babe clued me into his strategy almost immediately (Jason’s nicknames choices are usually more creative), it takes a second for my thoughts to catch up with the rest of me. “Yeah, after them we should be good to go home.”

Jason takes his time looking over at each of the strangers in a way that could pass as casual if it wasn’t for the lock of his jaw. Maybe if I wasn’t used to him, used to the way he looks when we debate plot points and recommend music to each other, his expression would seem less distinct. But I do know him, know the way he tends to shrink in on himself when little kids are running around the diner so he doesn’t seem overly intimidating.

“Take your time,” he finally manages, attention falling back to me. I’m so distracted by the tension melting in my stomach that I barely register Jason moving towards me. I don’t know what he’s doing until his arm’s comfortably wrapped around my shoulders. Something in my chest jumps. I don’t think we’ve ever touched before. “I can be here all night.”

He’s so warm. “Shouldn’t be long, babe.”

“Hm.” He gives my shoulder one last, assuring squeeze before stepping back. He doesn’t go far, sitting at the counter instead of his usual seat in the back. Less than a foot away.

Jason’s proximity gives me the confidence to go through the whole waitress bit, “Can I get you guys started with something to drink?”

The tall one looks over at his friends, awkwardly clearing his throat before saying, “Could we just get some waters to go? I’d hate to keep you past closing.”

I now get the concept of scary dog privileges better than ever before. “Yeah, we can do that.”

The excuse to get behind the counter, back to Jason and Marta is unbelievably relieving. I’m there in almost an instant. Marta’s already pouring water into to-go cups.

“You okay?” Jason’s voice is low, eyes so soft it’s hard to believe that a second ago he was intimidating to anyone.

I nod once, “Yeah.” And I really am. The group was menacing and they got a little close than most creepy guys do, but it’s not the first time a group of guys found entertainment in terrorizing a waitress at the end of a long night out. “Drunk assholes are just a...work hazard.”

My attempt to brush off the incident doesn’t seem to work. Instead of easing, Jason’s jaw locks again. “That happen a lot?”

I shrug, kind of regretting saying anything. It’s not like I’m constantly in danger, but waitresses are easy prey. They have to be somewhat nice to you and they’re stuck in place. And we’re in Gotham, any type of assault case is low on the authority’s priority list, which makes it low risk. “You’re here most nights, Jay, you know it’s usually empty.”

He nods once, the motion stiff. His unasked question sits between us: what about when I’m not here? I don’t want to get into the whole thing, so maybe it’s a good thing I have to go back and give the guys their waters. It’ll give me a chance to regroup an go back to something lighter. Those guys and all this tension have taken enough of our reunion away from us.

I look over at the counter and the styrophone cups are gone. The one time I want an excuse to walk away from Jason is the one time Marta goes out of her way to leave us alone.

Marta re-enters the space behind the counter. “They paid, they’re leaving.” As if on cue, the door’s signature squeak overlaps with the last syllable. “And we’re finally closed.”

“Finally.”

With no warning, Jason leans over the counter and grabs a napkin off of the stack kept next to the soda machine. “You have a pen?”

What? Before I can ask where the sudden urge to draw something came from, Marta wordlessly hands over the pen attached to her apron. That level of acknowledgement from her throws me through a loop. Technically, she’s not even working anymore so the pen thing was completely voluntary.

Jason accepts her offer slowly, as if worried that there’s a chance he’ll startle her and force her to either run off or stab him. Marta does give the energy that she could either way.

“What are you doing?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look up at me in acknowledgement. “Are you trying to draw their faces from memory in case they need--”

Jason slides over the napkin wordlessly so that 10 evenly written digits face me, two dashes dividing the numbers into two segments of three and one of four. A phone number. “This is--”

“If anyone like that shows up again, you can text me and I’ll...I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The confirmation that this is his phone number hits me straight in the chest, and the reasoning behind the gesture forces the feeling to linger. Here’s Jason, always careful to never reveal too much about himself and he’s...he’s trusting me. I turn my head enough to look at Marta, who just nods patiently. That’s different.

I pick up the napkin like it might dissolve into nothing between my fingertips. “So basically I call if I have a problem, and you come and beat it up.”

“Basically.”

I stare at the number again, studying the surprising neatness of the line they’re in like it can reveal something new about the person that wrote them. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but the gesture feels heavy. “Thanks.”

Jason briefly angles his chin downwards in a subtle version of a nod, “Don’t mention it.” He probably means that literally, so I just set the napkin back down and fold it neatly. “Anything for my fake girlfriend.”

“Fake girlfriend of two minutes.”

He leans a little closer, “A natural two minutes.”

I don’t even try to disguise my probably too smug laugh, “For you, maybe.”

“You caught on a little fast.” I narrow my eyes. “Leaned into--”

“I think the person that gave you that black eye also gave you brain damage.” The jokes are easy to not to mind when they’re about him being obsessed with me, not the other way around.

Jason presses his lips together in what could be either an attempt at sulking or scowling, it’s hard to tell with his eyes that soft. “It’s like being punched again.”

“Dramatic.” I fight to keep my expression flat as I step back from the counter. “I’m gonna change and grab my bag, then you can walk me to my car.”

He scoffs, a brief puff of air that’s pretending to be more annoyed than it is. “Someone’s bossy.”

I turn towards the door that leads to a small break room, “Fake boyfriend duties.”

The door to the break room shuts before he can say anything else. I put the napkin Jason gave me into my bag before changing out of my uniform and into sweats. Normally, knowing that I don’t have to work for two days is nothing but relieving. It’s still a relaxing thought, but something about it also makes me feel like I’m stuck. Maybe it’s the fact that Jason just came back and the next time I work will be a lunch shift--which is, for whatever reason, the shift he’s least likely to crash.

I won’t see or talk to him for a few days, and that’s long enough for him to disappear again. More days, more weeks.

Forcing those thoughts down somewhere deep, I roll my shoulders before grabbing my bag and shutting my locker. We still have the moments that take to get to my car, and that’s all whatever friendship we have is...tiny moments.

“Okay,” I announce my return to the main area, “You ready?”

He’s already standing, the book we never got to held loosely in one hand. “I was waiting for you.”

I hold my hands up in defense even though this is far from his most annoyed response. “Someone’s moody.”

He sighs, taking a step towards me. I barely have the chance to pull my bag off of me before Jason hooks a finger around it’s strap. He swings it onto his shoulder easily. the walk to the parking lot is short, but Jason always takes my bag. I’m not sure how it started, but like most of us, it happened on accident and stuck.

“Moody?”

The word is repeated back to me with an offense that’s punctuated by a hint of surprise. It’s a fair reaction. Now that I’m thinking about it, the word feels like it’s underserving him. It’d be easy to take in Jason’s general vibe and sum him up as mostly angsty or just another tough guy born on the streets of Gotham.

We reach the door. “Eh...you’ve got layers.”

He almost smiles, “Really?” I can feel his smugness growing and I’m glad that I’m in a position to open the door and step away from it. My hand moves forward. Jason shifts, angling himself in a way that leaves me still. He’s not blocking my escape, not really, but the implication of how close he’s standing is enough to make me still. “What are they?”

The air in my lungs jams itself in my throat mid breath.

“I’m ready to lock up if--” Marta stops halfway between the tables and the door. Something about her expression makes proximity that felt innocent moments before off. “If you’re ready to go.”

“Uh--yeah,” I hum, placing a hand on the door, “I’m--yeah, I’m--” I push the front door open as if that will prove my point, “We’re good.”

Marta nods slowly, “Okay.”

I walk out and Jason follows. After a second, Marta appears behind us. She mumbles a general goodnight instead of pointedly tacking my name onto it before getting into her car and driving off.

Jason opens my car door for me. I get in, take my bag back, and turn on my car even though Jason’s still standing there and the door’s still open. “Your tire pressure--”

I shake my head dismissively, ignoring the symbol that’s lit up on my dashboard. “I’m getting to it.” He gives me a look and I sigh. “I’ll go this week, mom.”

“Funny.” He leans closer to my car with no warning, head peaking in to examine my dash. Nosy.

“Relax, I got my oil changed.”

He eases a bit at that, moving back to where he was before. “After I told you to for a week.”

“It was not a week.” It did come close, though. It was getting close to the end of the semester and my car wasn’t a priority. Plus, Jason’s lectures about it were a little entertaining and gave me another piece of information to file away about him. “Maybe I liked your car rants.”

“Yeah?”

I shrug, relaxing into my seat, “You knew a lot of technical words.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slightly, “So that’s what you’re into?”

“You wish,” my return is a little slower, the early stages of drowsiness finally getting a chance to catch up to me now that things are calm.

Jason frowns, eyes lingering on my expression. I guess I don’t pass his inspection because he says, “You should get home.”

I nod, hoping no disappointment is visible on my face. “Yeah, it is kinda late.” My hand finds the handle of the car’s door. “See you around, dork.”

Jason throws me a look, half glaring, “Night, loser.”

With one last look, I shut the door. I turn my attention to the steering wheel. Just drive. A part of me wants to linger, to maybe say something else. But there’s nothing else.

In an attempted compromise, I reach into my bag and pull out the napkin. The numbers aren’t as easy to make out in the dark, so I have to squint to type them into my phone. This is normal. I mean, I might have a reason to text him later and if he doesn’t know that this is my number, he might ignore it or miss it or--

Ugh. Before I can over think it, I type a short text: it’s Y/n. Even though there’s no way for that to come off as weird, I’m glad I have an excuse to shove my phone back into my bag and not look at it for at least 15 minutes.

----

This bag should be called the black hole, because the moment you need something, it’s swallowed into an abyss. I’ve found multiple sticks of gum, a handful of change, and a chapstick I thought I lost weeks ago, but not my keys.

I sigh, picking up my phone so that I can use the flashlight. Before I can swipe to get the option, my attention shifts to the recent notifications. Two texts my phone has labeled as being from maybe: Jason. The first his just his name. The second is a longer message saying that I already knew that, because he’s the one that gave me this number. It’s a distinction that’s so specific and particular it’d feel a little awkward coming from anyone else.

I let myself think about it for a second before swiping the message open. I type out a reply before erasing it. Another moment of deliberation passes before the words come to me. I type it out and hit send in the same breath. You’re lucky you’re pretty.

I drop my phone back into my bag and shift around the contents. The void must have taken another victim, because it’s finally spit up my keys.

----

A/n i could see myself making a part 2 to this where this reader meets redhood and doesnt know its jason bc i was originally going to make this longer, but idk!

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #dc #dc x reader #redhood #redhood x reader

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lovingperfectionsblog · 11 months

Text

The Worst Date

Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader.

Summary: You and Bob have very different opinions of the date you went on.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 2252.

Authors note: I’m not super happy with this but here it is some little bit of writing because I was bored and I am gearing up to write an angsty piece so here’s something silly to begin with.

_____

“How did it go?” Bob had barely stepped foot into the lecture venue before Nat was bombarding him with questions.

Every eye in the room was now turned on him, desperately wanting to know how it had gone themselves.

‘Too many people know my business’ Bob couldn't help but think, but at the same time, eternally grateful because if it wasn’t for the whole team, he would have never had the guts to ask you out, and subsequently had the best date he could have ever hoped for.

Before he could even answer, his smile was betraying him and his entire team was cheering, “You asked her?” Fanboy excitedly asked.

“Even better,” Bob felt a little smug as he took a seat next to his pilot, “we actually went out on the date.”

“Already?” Hangman voiced the shock the entire group had simultaneously felt. A date? Already? They had just convinced the backseater to ask his best friend out on friday evening and he had already gone on the date by monday morning?

“Already,” Bob nodded along, expressing that he was equally as surprised as everyone else, “and honestly,” he couldn’t help the blush that was spreading over his face, “it was the best date I had ever been on.”

“Tell us everything Bobby Boy.” Payback knew that it wasn’t often Bob got the win, not for lack of trying either, but, the kindest member of this team always somehow seemed to be on the backfoot and honestly, he deserved to know how great he was, and he deserved this win, and despite a lot of the shit Bob got from the team, Payback knew each and everyone of them agreed.

“Yeah, uhm, we went to that cute place down from the hard deck.” Bob began recounting the date before he was interrupted again by Hangman.

“No Big Bob, from the beginning, we wanna hear how you asked her out and everything.” He would never admit that he was excited for Bob, but Hangman was, Bob deserved love, was one of the best out of all them and every second of this moment was making Hangman feel better and better about forcing himself into the situation after hearing him and Nat quietly discussing the longstanding crush Bob had on his best friend.

After a beat, after Bob had come to the conclusion that his team, his friends, genuinely wanted to know how it all went, he began his story again.

“Okay, so I took Hangman's advice and took a shot of whiskey on saturday night and gave her a call,” no one missed the smug look on Hangman's face, “and she answered and I panicked and before I even said hello I kind of just asked if she wanted to get something to eat with me.” That earned a chuckle from everyone, clearly being able to picture Bob blurting out the question with no skill or charm whatsoever.

“She literally said yes immediately and asked if I was close by and so I just said yes and quickly got ready and went to pick her up.” Bob just shrugged despite the confused looks on everyone's faces.

“So you just picked her up then and there?” Nat was confused, ready for a date that quickly? Something didn’t feel right.

“Yeah, and god, she looked beautiful.” Bob could feel himself swooning as he remembered how stunning he thought you looked as you swung the door open to greet him. “And then we went and had a perfect evening and laughed and had good food and took a walk on the beach and it was just,”

“You guys kiss?” Bob’s blush only got deeper and he just shook his head in response to Hangman’s question, “Okay, that's fine, there's always next time.” Hangman knew with you it was the slow game, similar to Bob, you were someone who took their time, not someone to fall for a good old pickup line and a little bit of cockiness, he knew all too well that you wouldn’t even bat an eye at something like that, he’d tried, and you’d shot him down not even a split second later and made your way over to Bob.

Before anyone could take the conversation any further, you casually strolled in, throwing a round of greetings to your fellow aviators and a small shy wave to Bob before taking the empty seat next to Hangman. You were completely oblivious to all the looks being shared between your team and it was only a matter of time before the inevitable,

“So how was your weekend?” Nat asked, followed by a grunt from Bob kicking her under the table. No one wanted to outright ask how the date with Bob had gone because technically, none of them should even know, so this was the next best thing.

The frown and pouted lips surprised them all, but nothing prepared them for how you summed your weekend up.

“Honestly, it was okay, I went on possibly the worst date I have ever been on, so there's that.” Bob was going to throw up. You’d hated the date? He had the best date of his life and you’d hated the date? And you’d said it so casually in front of him.

The entire room was filled with silence, and Bob wanted nothing more than to just escape. Quit the navy. Disappear. He could do that. He knew enough people back home that could make sure that could happen. Perks of growing up in Rural North America.

The room was silent, Bob was bright red and everyone was avoiding eye contact with both of you.

Except for of course Hangman, who had taken this as a personal affront.

“What was wrong with the date?” He was looking you square in the eyes and was ready to fight on behalf of Bob if he was just going to sit there and let you be cruel in front of everyone.

“Ugh, it was just, he was awful. Like, didn’t put any effort in to how he looked, didn’t know what to do, made me choose, like, I want a man who makes a choice you know? I don’t want to have to do everything for him.” Bob dropped his head, ready to cry from the shame. You hated the date.

“Well, what the hell did you expect him to do? All things considering I think he did alright? What exactly were you expecting? For him to roll out the red carpet when you’d given him next to nothing to work with?” Hangman was pissed, you’d given Bob absolutely no time for anything and then had the audacity to rip him to shreds in front of everyone? No on his watch.

“This your usual play then Hangman, considering how touched you’re getting about it?” you nudged his shoulder, completely missing the scowl sent your way, not only from him, but from everyone in the room except Bob.

“Pilots, let begin” Mav had unknowingly saved you as he strolled in and you continued your day none the wiser, glad to begin the new week on such a high note.

Unlike Bob, who had just started the worst day he could imagine.

He had to apologize to you. He had wanted to dress up, but you’d given him so little time. No, he couldn’t use that as an excuse. He should have put more effort in. And he should have just told you where he was going to take you, but he was fully intending on doing this right, a reservation at the first restaurant he went to when he moved to TopGun , the food had reminded him so much of home and flowers, he was going to get you flowers too but you’d asked him to get you then and there and there had barely even been enough time for a shower and he had been wracking his brain over where he could take you on such short notice and so he didn’t mean to ask where you wanted to go but, he definitley gave you the option of two places and, fuck, he tried. He tried and you hated it and now he probably lost his best friend along with the woman he loved.

He needed to apologize. Try and salvage what he could.

For once, could Mav not talk this goddamn long.

______

As soon as class had ended, Hangman was up and out of his seat, stalking over towards Bob to give him the well deserved pep talk. Bob had barely even had the opportunity to stand up himself before both Nat and Hangman were both giving their own variations of “Fuck her, you deserve someone who is going to appreciate you.”

Before long, you yourself were walking over to the group of three, wanting to finally have a moment to great your best friend.

Before you even had a moment though, Bob was blurting out an apology.

“I’m sorry you hated the date.”

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for Bob.” Hangman was authoritative, reminding Bob that it was your loss, not his. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Exactly,” you were completely missing the tension in the room, Bob would have almost found it sweet if he wasn’t on the receiving end of heartbreak, “If it weren’t for you saving my night, I think my weekend really would have sucked.”

“I thought you said your date sucked?” Nat was questioning you and Bob wanted to disappear.

“It did, that’s why when Bob called after it, asking if I wanted to grab something to eat, it made my night?” Bob's eyes were now wide, suddenly everything was making sense, why you were all dolled up, why you had done everything to not talk about your day, telling him you just wanted to forget it, not really leaning into his flirting.

Oh, this got so much worse than we was expecting.

“So you went on a date literally right before you went on a date with Bob?” Jake knew he was smart, I mean, you don’t become one of the best of the best naval aviators without being at ;east a little intelligent, but he was well and truly lost.

“I didn’t go on a date with Bob?” You couldn’t help but blush, the idea of being taken out by your long standing crush something you had resigned to only entertaining in your dreams.

“But Bob said,” Now both Nat and Hangman were both looking directly at Bob, waiting for an explanation.

“How exactly did you ask her out on the date Bob?” Hangman was suddenly catching up, slowly but surely.

“I asked her if she wanted to go and get something to eat?” Bob was avoiding all eye contact with you while he recounted all that had happened on Saturday night, assuming he had done all he could right, but apparently he was mistaken if the groans from both Nat and Hangman were anything to go by.

“No Bobby, that is not how you ask a lady out on a date!” Nat was in Bob's face now, trying to explain where he had gone wrong. The bewildered look in his eyes clearly stated he had no idea what he had done wrong still.

“I told you, you need to ask her to go on a date with you, not grab food or hangout, out. On. a date. if she’s your friend, she is going to misunderstand, exactly like she has here.” Hangman was back to trying to coach Bob. He’d been here and he had learnt the hard way, you have to be explicit, you have to be clear, you want a date, not to hangout, or else when you go for the kiss at the end of the night, things get real awkward real quick.

“You asked me on a date?” Your voice was quiet and shy as you broke through all of Nat and Hangmans teaching, watching Bob intently as all he could do was nod, still not fully meeting your eyes. “God Bobby, if I had known it was a date, it would have been the best date I think I have ever gone on.”

Bob’s head was snapping up now, unable to stop the grin that he was now sporting, “You mean it?” He couldn’t help as his midwestern accent slipped through in his excitement.

“I’m pretty sure all that would have made it better is if you kissed me afterwards.” Now you both were blushing, both feeling more and more shy as the two confident pilots stood watching you both stumble your way through this awkward situation.

“Bob, ask her out again,” Hangman loudly whispered.

“And do it properly.” Nat said just a little more loudly, her tone as if she was a parent reprimanding a child.

You watched grinning as Bob just stood there nodding as he asked, “Would you please go out on a date with me?”

And he couldn’t help his grin grow wider and wider as you gave him a confident yes in response. “Only if you promise to kiss me after you drop me at home Bobby.”

Before you could say any more Hangman had his arm around Bob's shoulder, discussing what he should do for the date as he dragged him away, seemingly feeling like Bob clearly had more to be taught, especially if his final question of “Bob, do you even know how to kiss” and Bobs stammer of a response was anything to go by.

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stusbunker · 20 days

Text

Spotless: Mordent

Chapter Eighteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam, Billie

Word Count: 2880ish

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, this turned into more of a brother chapter than I originally intended, talk of tattoos and body mods, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Dean walked out of the studio with a cassette recording of their album, a CD and a thumb drive. He always asked for it to be playable in the impala and Ash always came through. The other options were for Bobby and Sam, respectively. Sam would send the files to everyone else. It was finished, set to be released while they were on tour, with the label’s stamp of approval and all. ‘Waysides and Regrets’ was thirteen songs packed with everything they could pour into them.

"Don’t call it a comeback,” Dean muttered to himself as he slipped into the driver’s seat and popped the cassette into the deck. The opening to Rupture ripped through the speakers and Dean cackled at hearing it like a civilian. He drummed along with Pam on the steering wheel as he turned out of the parking lot, saluting the guard at the gate as he went.

He listened to it all before going back home. Rupture bled into Pushing Through which mellowed out to the subdued Brothers Keeper. Then they cranked it back up with Route 666, which slid into the angsty Prophet and Loss that showcased just why Kevin was Cas’ replacement (musically at least). Beyond the Mat and Goodbye Stranger were two sides of the same coin, introspective but in different tones, soulful and combative respectively. Then there was the first single, Annie’s duet, Baby, which Dean unabashedly wrote about his car, but as if she were real and he could thank her and praise her for everything she meant to him. He sang out loud with every word of that song as he cruised faceless side streets letting the music wash over him.

Everybody Loves A Clown, Except Sam was supposed to be a joke track, but they got carried away with it and it actually was one of the funnest songs to play for Dean, and Kevin going full calliope for the chorus was totally worth it. Gods and Monsters was fueled by Dean’s inner rage and where his anger came from, also known as John Winchester and his own self worth issues. Missouri had a field day when he sent her those lyrics. Then there was Lee’s track which Dean helped merely tweak some lines, Give Me My Axe: An Executioner’s Song. It was even better with the windows down and the road disappearing beneath his tires. The final track was an anthem, not quite what the kids would call a banger, but celebratory enough to be the potential second single from the album. It’s about the weekend Dean finally came up for air, when Sam holed him up at Bobby’s cabin in Tahoe and they had his come-to-Jesus intervention thing. It’s about letting go and letting your people catch you, aptly named Weekend at Bobby’s. It turned out better than Dean could have hoped.

He turned into the canyon when the bonus tracks started, knowing the album was drawing to a close and wanting Sam to hear it before he got too emotional about it. The house was quiet when he walked in, the coffee still in the pot, but Sam’s rinsed-out smoothie blender upside down in the sink. Dean found Sam outside, despite the cooler air, going through his yoga routine.

Dean teased Sam about a lot of things, but it held little venom with the things that brought Sam well-being.

“Hey, mop-head, got the album when you’re ready,” Dean called from the doors off the kitchen.

Sam exhaled and smiled, eyes closed in concentration. Dean didn’t know how he did it, but he understood sometimes other senses just get in the way of an experience, almost like they try to crowd it or consume it because it’s not about them.

“Gimme like ten minutes,” Sam replied and shifted into mountain pose.

“Fair enough.”

Dean left the thumb drive on the counter and made his way into the living room. They had speakers in their jam room, but Dean hadn’t eaten and lunch was sounding better by the second. So he popped the CD into the stereo and paused it with one of the many remotes they’d accumulated through years of technological upgrades. Sam had an app on his phone for half of it, but Dean still favored physically punching buttons to get what he wanted done.

He made his way back into the kitchen and started pulling things out for BLTs. Sam had some tofu-bacon in the drawer and he fried that up too, and if a little of the real grease got on it, it was too bad for Sam. He grabbed a couple of bags of chips from the pantry and then some leftover fruit salad from the fridge to even them out. Life was about balance after all, and having a health nut for a brother and roommate Dean had learned to pick his battles.

“Hey, that smells amazing,” Sam broke through Dean’s little self-congratulation.

“Yeah, mine does, yours smells like a nursing home cafeteria—- You ready?” Dean asked, holding up the remote with one hand while popping a chip into his mouth with the other.

“Hit it,” Sam agreed, sitting at the counter as Dean slapped his sandwich down in front of him.

They ate and listened, commenting here and there. Sam helped Dean clean up the kitchen and they both gravitated to the couch to finish listening. Dean took out a bowl he kept in an end table and packed it, smoking casually as Sam took in each song, each transition.

It was one moment, but it was also a hundred others in the years before it. Brothers sitting in comfortable quiet as music spoke to them instead of one another. They were thirteen and nine and Dad had brought home a signed Lyle Lovett album for them to ingest. While neither of them were yet prone to country, it shifted their ideas of just what good music was. They were fifteen and eleven and done enough chores for a trip to Record Town in North Platte where they each got a tape apiece. Dean got Jar of Flies by Alice in Chains while he convinced Sam to get The Downward Spiral by Nine Inch Nails instead of Tori Amos’ Under the Pink. They read every line of production details and lyrics on the pamphlets tucked into the plastic cases.

Sam came home to find Dean back for the weekend. It was early ‘98 and it felt like everything had turned horrifyingly pop focused. The Prodigy’s Fat of the Land was playing on the boombox Dean had dragged out of Sam’s room as his big brother cleaned the kitchen back to his standards and not Kate’s livable level of clutter. They were waiting to hear if they had a brother or a sister. The only thing said between them was Dean reassuring Sam that he put his Celine Dion CD back in its case.

They sat in Lee’s dorm room, stoned and drunk, watching as his roommate's computer uploaded their album. It felt like it would take forever, but it was also insane to think that people all over the world could listen to their music. It was full of possibility, but it was also just two brothers and their friends in their habitat, existing together.

“Dude— did you autotune me?!” Sam gaped, chuckling self consciously while listening to his line of the acoustic track of Brothers Keeper.

“Barely. Like nobody’s gonna notice, they’ll be too busy balling their eyes out,” Dean reassured.

“Yeah, like you, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Sam laughed, but let his embarrassment go; the nervous bastard always hated singing which was why he wasn’t as good at it.

The album reached its end and they started talking about ideas for the tour, things to write down and beg Charlie for like lighting designs or album specific imagery when they hop back into their older stuff. It was almost four when Dean finally got over to Bobby’s with the CD, but he didn't stay for another listen. He let Annie have her moment with Bobby gushing, as much as the geezer could or would gush.

On the way home, you called him squealing with excitement.

“You listen to it already?”

“No! I just got the files from Sam. I guess I shouldn’t have called until I heard it all, huh?”

Dean chuckled. “Maybe. Or maybe you’ll hate it and never want to talk to me again.”

“Ha-ha. But no, seriously, I’m so excited. I’m going to blast it as I meal prep. Do you want my review long hand or can I just call you back and talk your ear off?”

“Whatever you’re willing to give me,” Dean tried for playful.

“Dangerous, Winchester. Okay, well I have like ten more things I have to do now that we have a single. But I’ll be in touch.”

“Sounds good— and thanks.”

“No— thank you.”

Dean hung up and let the fear roll in. You were going to hear it all. Everything he had been through and everything you had helped him overcome. He only hoped you wouldn’t be upset by making a cameo on something so public. Or embarrassed by the way he still needed you.

Dean promised he’d be on his best behavior. Part of that was putting out fires for the band, to try and help make your job easier. So after the shake up from Kevin and Cas, he called Billie and apologized for his bandmates’ (both past and present) disrespect. She told him he could make it up to her. But there was no way Dean was going under the needle again, last time he even looked at one he almost threw up. But, it just so happened he knew someone who was in the market for some art.

Unfortunately, that meant Dean would have to tag along.

Billie’s studio was modern and bright, with different colored walls contrasting the silver accents, both mirrors and shelving. From the outside, Reaping Ink was a small sign on a battered street, but inside it felt like walking into an art gallery and not someplace that had hard sharps containers and enough first aid equipment to stock an ambulance on hand.

And the furniture was always so damn comfortable.

The last time Dean had been here was for a memorial tattoo for Jo that you got on your right shoulder. He nearly broke your hand holding it as he tried and failed not to watch your skin be pierced continuously. It was a beautiful tattoo, everything Billie did was masterful. It just wasn’t something Dean wanted to sit through again.

Luckily for everyone, Bela didn’t need Dean to hold her hand. But she did need him as in with Billie, who usually booked appointments six-to-eight months out.

“Hello, Dean,” Billie’s dark voice called once they walked in, she stood so still and so silently, he hadn’t even noticed her among the cacophony of color in the waiting area.

“Heya Billie, this is Bela,” Dean guided Bela with a hand on the small of her back, the way Billie’s dark eyes clocked the motion made Dean want to step back. Like a nun catching you standing too close to your crush in the hallway. Dean never went to Catholic school, but that feeling of getting caught, of doing wrong was universal.

“Pleasure,” Bela smiled at the artist, while Billie just nodded.

“I have a couple versions for you to pick from, I think I got the gist of what we talked about, but I wanted to be sure on sizing and layout. So come on back and we’ll get started,” Billie went straight into business mode. No whining about Cas’ impulsiveness or speculating on Dean and Bela’s relationship. At least verbally, her eyes held a very different story.

She had three different stencils already cropped and laid out for Bela to see as Bela rucked up her top and rolled down her leggings. It wasn’t a tramp stamp, she was insistent on that, but it was on the back of her right hip, something she could glance at or hold if she needed to. The way she talked about the position of the tattoo, made it seem just as important as the content or the coloring of it.

“Dean?” Bela’s voice drew Dean out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Can you take pictures with my phone? Before, during, and after?” Bela handed him her unlocked iphone and he turned it around to focus on her nearly bare back. He took a few shots and gave it back.

“You’ll want that to distract you, trust me,” Dean assured.

Bela rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

Dean went green. “As long as I don’t have to watch.”

“Really?!” Bela exclaimed and looked over to Billie for confirmation.

“Mmm-hmm, boys one of the worst I’ve seen around needles. No wonder he doesn’t even have his ears pierced.”

“I guess I never noticed—- wouldn’t have thought. Poor thing,” Bela sighed as she settled on her stomach on one of Billie’s many specialty beds.

“Can we not? I mean, I’m here ain't I?” Dean huffed and pulled out his own phone. You still hadn’t texted him what you thought about the album, but he also knew you were busy, so he didn’t want to rush you or look too desperate.

He felt Bela and Billie have a silent conversation as he pulled up his sudoku app, but ignored them as Billie got the stencil in place, only getting up to snap another picture. Then, they were off. Bela and Billie making small talk about the design, which Dean knew Bela had put a lot of thought into, especially since it would officially tarnish her good girl image. Even in this day and age, most of her fans were in their fifties. A tattoo could rattle the masses. But getting one with Dean seemed like a good compromise of their images.

He was rubbing off on her, so to speak. Well, he hadn’t done that literally since his talk with Sam, but you know.

They sat for an hour and a half and took a break, Dean went to get food and coffee, which he left in the lobby so as not to infringe on Billie’s strict rules. Dean took a couple more pictures and some stupid selfies for Bela to find later. The shop was closed to the public and since Billie’s latest playlist had started over, Dean asked if he could hook up to the bluetooth.

Billie looked at him appraisingly as it became clear that he was playing his own music during his girlfriend’s appointment.

“What?”

“You’re either looking for my approval or you’re buttering me up by letting me hear this first. Which is it?” Billie manhandled Bela back into position to get going on the shading.

“I don’t know, man. Both?”

Billie hummed, but didn’t reply.

Dean walked around the studio, looking at the different sets of flash and paintings that covered the walls. He flinched away from the spinning display of rods, tapers, disks, and rings for piercings and stretching. He felt like a waste of space, but mainly because he was never any good with boredom. Being idle in a place he was already uncomfortable, for a plethora of reasons, was akin to torture.

He remembered to breathe.

He checked his phone. He put that back into his pocket. He stole Bela’s phone for a few more pictures, trying not to look directly at her raised, red flesh.

“How’s it going?” Dean asked, after giving Bela her phone back, his album running its course around them.

“I’d say another twenty minutes and then I’ll bandage her up. You good?” Billie asked, surprisingly sincerely.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. Just curious,” Dean muttered.

“Hey, Dean. I like the music,” Billie said, waiting for him to make eye contact.

“Thanks,” Dean nodded, trying not to let his blush show.

“When’s it coming out?” Bela asked, suddenly reminding Dean why he was there in the first place.

“End of April,” he said. “Single’ll be released week after my birthday.”

Bela paused and looked up at him, but Billie was the one to break the ice.

“Which is?”

“Uh, the 24th. Baby hits your airwaves on the 29th.”

“Is that Annie Hawkins on that track?” Billie asked.

“Yup,” Dean grinned.

“Damn, almost forgot about her. Nice pull,” Billie praised.

Dean chuckled, not explaining his connection. She’d find out eventually, if it even mattered. “Yeah, we got lucky with that one.”

Bela was inked up, wiped down and vacuum sealed over the following half hour. Dean paid for the work, plus a generous tip. And posed for a few promotional shots with Bela and Billie alike. Once everyone was satisfied that what they had would help all involved, Bela and Dean said their goodbyes and thank yous and headed out for a late dinner at Elizabeth’s.

“Do you want me to send these to you or to Y/N to latergram?” Bela asked as their drinks arrived.

“Just send ‘em to Trouble. She’ll know what to do with them better than me,” Dean ducked out of the responsibility, unaware he was planting another social media minefield for you to navigate by doing so.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

Chapter Nineteen: Pizzicato

#spotless series #dean/reader #dean/bela #slow burn #rockstar au #fake dating #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction

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finntheehumaneater · 4 months

Text

Radio Star ⭐️ (part six!)

so, Hopper and Robin come in in the next part, since I didn’t want this one to be super long (and I’m tired)

also this takes place in the 90s, and if you can guess what cannibal I was talking about, you won’t win anything, but I’ll be proud of you <3

(CW: sore gory description used in a metaphorical sense, mentions of cannibalism) [if I missed any, let me know and I’ll add them]

If you don’t want to be tagged but still want to follow along with the story, you can either follow my blog, or follow the tag “Radio Star By Finn”, and you want to be tagged, let me know in the comments of the posts

“I’m telling you, Bobby, it’ll be good to get out for a bit. See things. It’ll help.” Steve was leaning against the wall, idly flipping through the phone book with a frown on his face as he scanned over the names. He wasn’t looking for anyone to call, he just wanted to know why the hell they had so many phone numbers in here. It wasn’t like they really knew anybody.

Except Ms. Hilda. Who Steve still did not like. He still felt kind of…weird and empty, like his insides were waiting for something to happen again, even though his outsides knew it wasn’t going to. But it could. But then again, how many abduction victims got kidnapped twice? Probably some, actually.

Robin was silent on the end of the phone, probably thinking stuff over. Steve sighed, something horrible chewing up his bones as he looked down. “Bobby?”

“Hm?”

“Do you ever feel like something bad is going to happen? Like—you know it won’t, but you still feel like it?”

“I think that’s called anxiety, Steve.”

“Well, yeah, but like…”

He heard some shuffling on the other end of the line and then Robin sighed, but he knew she wasn’t mad. He still felt like she was, though. “What are you feeling anxious about?”

“Tomorrow. What if something happens again?”

“What would happen?” She was being gentle. Patient. Talking to him like he was stupid. Like the way that Eddie talked to him. But it was different when Robin did it.

“I don’t know. Remember that guy that got imprisoned? February of last year?”

“The guy who ate people?” Robin startled a laugh, sounding confused. “Steve, you’re not going to get cannibalized. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, but I bet his victims didn’t think they were going to get eaten, either.” Steve muttered, pinching at the skin of his arm. He knew Vickie did that, too, when she got nervous or anxious. It was why she was always covered in bruises. And he could see why she did it, because it made him feel grounded, kind of. Still worried about cannibals, but not as worried.

“Just relax. I’ll—I’ll go with you and Eddie, okay? But I have to go for a bit because Vickie’s waking up. I promised her I’d stop getting out of bed to do things super early. Supposed to be…staying in or whatever.”

“Yeah, well, good luck with that.”

“Thanks.”

Steve sighed, closing the phone book. He didn’t even remember a Henry Jones. Weird. “Bye, Bobby. Love you.”

“Bye,” Robin said quickly, hanging up the phone, and Steve wanted to scream. But he didn’t. Instead, he pinched his arm as hard as he could and called Eddie.

“Hey, this is Eddie Munson.”

“Hi,” Steve said quietly, both hands on the phone and holding it away from his ear a bit like it would burn him if it touched his skin. It made Eddie’s voice sound kind of fuzzy.

“Hey, sweetheart? What’s up?”

“Robin said she’d go. To the lake.”

Eddie hummed softly. “You don’t sound happy about that. What's wrong?”

“She—she’s different. I feel like I’m losing her, Eddie, I…I don’t know, I’m being stupid.” Steve muttered, finally putting the phone up to his ear, because fuck, he really needed to hear Eddie’s voice right now.

“It’s not stupid, honey, don’t worry,” Eddie paused, a bit of hesitance in his voice. “I—it’s close to that thing, isn’t it?”

Steve nodded. “Two days.”

Eddie hummed thoughtfully, and there was a pause. “Drive?”

“No,” Steve answered, but he smiled slightly. “Maybe tonight, though?”

“We always do them at night,” Eddie mused, laughing quietly. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I like the quiet.”

“I could be quiet if you wanted.” Eddie offered, and there was a long pause of silence between them for a moment, before Steve smiled a bit wider and laughed, looked over at The Shark Movie DVD and didn’t even really think about Robin this time. He didn’t feel all that sad anymore.

“It’s okay when you talk to yourself in the car. S’cute,” Steve muttered, twirling his finger around the phone cord and biting back a stupid fucking smile. Eddie didn’t talk to himself a lot—okay, actually he did, but it was a quiet, soft kind of talking. And he talked like he was talking to Steve, but he wasn’t. Because Steve was supposedly sleeping. He explained things, told stories, sometimes just…talked.

That’s how he knew that Eddie had come to live with his uncle after he ran away from his dad’s house. Now Eddie lived in an apartment with some friends in his band. He worked at the coffee shop to pay off the studio he rented for them. It was called Corroded Coffin. His mom had died of cancer a few years before that. And his favorite color was dark blue. Like the color that the sky was at night when they drove—which, even though Eddie wouldn’t admit it, was why he liked to be put at night so much.

He also knew that Eddie loved pasta—just like Robin, fuck, no, he’s not supposed to be thinking about her right now—but that was because Eddie had taken him out to dinner once last week.

“How do you know I talk to myself?” Eddie muttered back, and Steve could hear the frown in his voice—had to remind himself that it didn’t mean Eddie was mad at him or annoyed.

“Light sleeper.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Eddie didn’t really sound apologetic, though. Which was okay because Steve didn’t like when Eddie apologized for things he didn’t need to. And Eddie didn’t like it when Steve did it, either, but they were both fucked in the head.

“Don’t be.”

There was another pause, and then Eddie said quietly, softly, “You, uh, you think it’s cute?”

Steve nodded, before realizing that Eddie couldn’t see him. He didn’t know why that thought made him ache a bit inside. “Mhm.”

“Huh. Okay,” Eddie whispered, sounding a bit shy, which made Steve’s smile even wider. “So…tonight? I’ll pick you up? And then tomorrow we go to the lake?”

“Yeah. We can go tonight, too, but I know it’s far.”

“No, it’s okay. We can go tonight. It’s like…what, an hour away?”

“Two hours,” Steve corrected, and he could tell that Eddie was messing with his hair from the faint ruffling on the other end. Steve’s face flushed at that.

“Right. Two hours. Do you want me to come over now and hang-out, or pick you up later?” Steve knew the offer was innocent and just Eddie being nice, but Eddie had never actually stopped by the house, and him coming over made Steve nervous. Eddie had a set of keys to the house, in case of emergencies, but he had never had to use them.

“I…you can come over. Just leave in a bit so that I have some time to clean?”

“Yeah, sure. And you don’t have to clean. You should see my place, it’s a mess. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah. Bye, Eddie.”

“Bye, Honey.”

Steve tried to clean the house, but he was so fucking tired and his hands were shaking too much to do anything, really. He dropped onto the bed and pressed his face into the pillow, fighting against falling asleep. He hadn’t been sleeping well—because he only slept well when he and Eddie went on drives. He liked sleeping in Eddie’s car. Closing his eyes with his forehead pressed to the window, sometimes just curled up in the seat, because Eddie drove slow, and he wasn’t afraid of crashing. Opening his eyes in a new place he had never been before—sometimes just a gas station in the middle of nowhere playing songs from the 70s.

He would wake up when Eddie would start playing with his hair, but he just laid still and didn’t say anything, because he knew Eddie would stop if he thought he was awake.

Steve didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he woke up to the mattress dipping down, a hand touching lightly at his shoulder—and for a second he thought it might be Robin, but there were cold rings pressed to his skin. Steve opened his eyes, rolling onto his back to find Eddie looking down at him, propped up over on his elbow.

“Hey,” He whispered, but it came out more as a hum than a word, trying desperately to keep his eyes open.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered, moving some hair out of Steve’s face. “Tired?”

“Mmm.”

Eddie laughed quietly, his eyes darting down to Steve’s lips for a moment, before he hooked his pointer finger under Steve’s chin, his thumb gently pressing against Steve’s bottom lip. “You can go back to bed, honey.”

Steve sighed, reaching up to take Eddie’s hand in his, because he was half-asleep already and didn’t have time to think about what he was doing. He tugged Eddie down next to him, turning back on his side as Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, pulling him until his face was pressed into Eddie’s chest.

One of Eddie’s hands snaked its way up Steve’s back and into his hair, tugging on a piece gently before kissing the top of his head, nose pressed against his scalp. He could feel Eddie breathing. He could hear it.

Fuck, this was all too much, but in a good way. He wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, and he heard Eddie laugh—felt the breath skate over his scalp, and he shivered, pulling himself closer to Eddie. He wanted it to be like this all the time. No. That was weird. They were friends.

“Are you okay?” Eddie whispered, kissing Steve’s hair again.

Steve shrugged. “Are there—have there ever been any cannibals here?”

“Not that I know of,” Eddie said thoughtfully, one of his hands rubbing up and down Steve’s spine, and Steve wanted to get closer, maybe even get inside of him. Lay amongst his bones, and such. He knew that Eddie would let him if he asked.

“That’s good,” Steve mumbled, voice muffled by Eddie’s shirt. Eddie sighed, pressing another kiss to the top of Steve’s head. He seemed to like doing that, Steve thought.

“Jus’ go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you up in a while if you still want to go on a drive?” Steve nodded as Eddie spoke, feeling his soft and gentle town sink into his bones, flowing through his blood in a way that made him smile.

When Steve woke up, Eddie was curled around him, not really asleep, but he looked like it—eyes closed and his breathing slow. He could have been sleeping, but Steve had seen him asleep, once, when they stayed out too long and Eddie got tired, curled up in the back of the van with his head on Steve’s lap and his arms wrapped around Steve’s waist.

Steve pried himself off of Eddie and watched as he sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to pull Steve back down, looking half-asleep. “Stevie.”

“Hm?” Steve hummed, letting Eddie pull him back down to the mattress, his face buried in Steve’s neck.

“S’too early, baby. Bed.”

Steve sat up just enough to see the alarm clock on the bedside table, and he smiled slightly at the little noise Eddie made when he was jostled around. Baby was a new name, though. Eddie had never called him that before. Steve could almost feel his brain rotting, right about then. “It’s 20:00.”

“Fuck,” Eddie groaned, his voice sounding breathy as he held onto to Steve a bit tighter, and Steve didn’t know why, but it made him feel weird. “Drive?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” Steve said softly, running his fingers through Eddie’s hair. One of his hands slipped under the hem of Eddie’s shirt, pushing his jean jacket out of the way. His skin was warm—almost too warm, and it nearly made Steve want to move his hand away, but he didn’t. Because Eddie let out this quiet sound and leaned into the touch, his eyes closing again.

“Stay over?” Steve whispered, tracing his fingers along Eddie’s skin, and Eddie nodded, sighing.

“Mmm.”

Steve pushed Eddie until he was sitting up, and then moved to take off his jacket, but Eddie stopped him, catching his wrist and pressing a kiss to it.

Steve smiled slightly, feeling his cheeks fucking burn. He tried to tug his arm back, but Eddie tightened his grip and tugged Steve forwards, biting his wrist. And, really, Steve had no idea why that made him feel all gooey inside—like he wanted to hold onto Eddie and never let him go—but it did.

Eventually, Steve freed his hand from Eddie’s teeth and lips—much to Eddie’s protest—and slipped off his jacket, folding it up and moving Robin’s books from one of the nightstands so that he could put it down on top. He kept a hold of the book, feeling his eyes water, and Eddie’s arms slipped around his waist, kissing his shoulder, his lips nearly touching the collar of Steve’s shirt. Steve wanted Eddie to kiss him everywhere else. He wanted to take off his shirt. He wanted to take off Eddie’s shirt, but he didn’t.

He dropped the book onto the carpet, hating the way that it landed upright, kind of looking like a tent, with the spine facing up—because that was careless and he didn’t want to be careless with Robin’s things—but Eddie tugged him down and curled back around Steve, his nose pressed against the back of Steve’s neck, his arms around Steve’s middle.

Steve sighed, pressing his back up into Eddie even more—ensuring that there was no space between them, and he felt Eddie’s hands slip under his shirt to feel at his stomach, his fingers barely touching the skin as they moved back and forth it lightly. “Night.”

“Goodnight,” Steve whispered, rubbing his thumb across Eddie’s wrist. He looked out towards the closed curtains, his head spinning. Gods, he could fucking get used to this.

thank you to @an-atlas-or-other for beta-ing this <3

@strangersteddierthings @aol19 @randombibitch @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @stillfullofshit @steventhusiast @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff @itsthestrangestthings @5ammi90 @absolutegremlin @txumxssianfox @goodolefashionedloverboi @hbyrde36 @tartarusknight @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @a-little-unsteddie @hornybunnybaby @beawritingbooks @askitwithflours

@zerokrox-blog (you didn’t ask to be tagged, I don’t think, but you seemed to like the last part, so let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in future parts!!)

let me know what you guys thought :D

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fanficimagery · 2 years

Text

La Loba

When Tara up and left Charming all those years ago- the town, Jax and the club weren't the only things left behind. She left you, her baby sister.

Words: 5.2K Author's Note: Sons of Anarchy AU. Crossover with Mayans. Trigger Warning for brief mentions of sexual assault.

When Tara left Charming all those years ago, you had only been fifteen. She left you with your drunk of a father, but Jax Teller and his mother Gemma quickly stepped in to look after you. However, when your uncle checked in one day, he didn't like what you had to say about your living situation. So as quick as he could, he managed to get custody of you and whisked you away to Texas.

For years you longed to be back in Charming, calling Jax every weekend you could to hear about what was going on there because, though he and your sister were broken up, you still looked up to him as your big brother. But until you graduated, as you were continuously reminded by your uncle and Jax, there was nothing you could do. So, until you walked the stage and had your high school diploma in hand, you let yourself make some friends and have some fun while you were still young.

Jax, Opie and Gemma made the drive down to Texas to see you walk the stage, and then Gemma told you she already had living arrangements situated for you should you want to return to Charming. You did and you were immediately set up with a job at Teller-Morrow Automotive.

For the following couple of years, you worked your butt off keeping the garage running smoothly while Gemma made herself busy elsewhere. You became close to those within the Sons of Anarchy, keeping their secrets and helping out when asked as if you were a part of the club yourself. And if you asked any of the men, they'd say you were.

But then your sister came back to Charming, ruffling feathers within the club, and making you doubt your place with the Sons.

For as long as you can remember, Clay and Gemma were the parents you wished had been yours. But then they started to make questionable calls and you realized you had to take a step back and look at the bigger picture. It also didn't help that you had Tara whispering nothing but terrible things in your ear, but you did your best to not let her opinion cloud your judgment.

And just when you were coming to terms with everything again, AJ Weston happened.

Fortunately, you weren't sexually assaulted, but you were forced to watch them assault Gemma over and over before taking a beating that left you in the hospital for nearly a week. And through it all, your sister still tried to get you to cut ties with the club. Instead of listening, however, you pulled back into yourself and sought out Happy to teach you how to properly fight.

For a couple of years, you hardened yourself to become numb to anything and everything the club did, doing odd jobs here and there when they needed a face to blend in that wasn't male. You became the club's ace up their sleeve, much to your sister's displeasure, and did your best to stay afloat while Clay and Gemma spiraled out of control.

Life within the club became a clusterfuck- betrayal after betrayal and lie after lie piling up faster than anyone could keep up with. And in the end, several people paid the price. Piney, Bobby, Clay, Juice, Tara and Gemma. All dead.

Then when Jax took up the gavel, he thought for sure you wouldn't want anything to do with the club anymore. But the club had been a part of your life for the longest time and so long as he didn't follow in Clay's or his mother's footsteps, you were more than happy to continue being there for anything the Sons needed.

With Jax as President and Opie as Vice President, things within the charters along the West Coast were shaken up. No one wanted war or petty fights for past grievances, so many bridges were mended. One, most importantly, being that of the bridge between the Sons and the Mayans.

Jax, Opie, and Chibs are hosting a few Mayans when you walk in behind Happy, more than ready to shower and get to work behind the bar. But first, you needed to check in with Jax and with the others, letting them know how the night went. Happy takes a seat, smirking as all eyes fall on you. You figure you must look a sight- hair wavy from the two braids you had it in all day, a Reaper hoodie that's a size too big, ripped jeans and Doc Martens. Your hands grip tight to the straps of the backpack you're wearing, and you offer Jax a nod.

"Hey, sis." Jax slowly smirks. "You good?" You give him another nod. "You win?"

Happy scoffs as if he really needed to ask that, after all he trained you, and all eyes turn towards him. "They tapped her for two matches."

Jax's amusement suddenly clears, worry in his eyes. "Two?" He glances between you and Happy, the rest of the onlookers curious as to what's going on. "Why the fuck did they tap you for two?"

You roll your eyes and slip the straps of the backpack off your shoulders. Holding the bag with one hand, you unzip the bag with the other and pull out a ziplock bag of cash. Abel and Thomas' name is written on it in black sharpie, as well as the very obvious 5K. You toss the money into Jax's lap.

"Holy shit," Opie utters. "What the hell happened?"

You grin and glance at Happy so he can tell the story. "Her first opponent had a glass jaw. One hit and she was out. The crowd wasn't too happy, so the coordinator asked if she'd fight again. Her second opponent was a dude and a little harder to take down, but our girl had a lot of rage tonight. Brought home 15K."

One of the Mayans lowly whistles. "Damn, mami. There an underground fight club we don't know about?"

The Sons all seem to hold their breath as you glance at the Mayan in question, expression going lax as you take him in. He's handsome, really handsome, what with his groomed beard and all. His hair is shaved close to the sides while the top has some length to it. And slowly, but surely, you grin and shrug at him.

"Hey guys, this is my sister-in-law YN," Jax says, introducing you. "YN, this is Bishop, Angel (the one who had spoken to you) and EZ. Creeper's at the bar with Tig." You glance at each men, nodding and grinning in greeting as they give their hellos. "You should clean up before you get behind the bar," Jax then says, easily dismissing you.

"Ribs need to be checked out. Probably wrapped," Happy mentions.

"And that's my cue," Chibs says as he stands, finishing off the last of his beer. "Come on, lass, let's go get ye naked."

You roll your eyes as Happy and Opie laugh, Jax kicking out in hopes of landing a kick to his Scottish brother.

Everyone watches as Chibs leads YN down the hallway towards the dorms and then Jax is grabbing the money to tuck inside his kutte. "Excuse YN," he says. "She doesn't talk."

"Ever?" Angel asks. Bishop and EZ are quick to slap their brother, causing him to flinch and glare at each of them.

The Sons all chuckle.

"She used to be a chatterbox," Jax says, smiling. Slowly the expression melts away. "She got kidnapped alongside Gemma by Zobelle's crew."

"Shit," Bishop swears. "We heard about that."

"Was she.. you know," EZ asks, uncomfortable. Everyone knew what had happened to the ex-president's old lady and the rage that possessed him and her son when they found out. "That why she don't talk?"

"Nah." Opie shakes his head. "They made her watch as they assaulted Gemma though, and then beat her black and blue. Stopped talking after that. She will talk sometimes, but only to those she feels at ease around."

"The physical assault was just the beginning of it all; started closing herself off. But then when Gemma killed Tara.."

"Fuck, bro," Angel exhales in realization. "Your mother killed her sister?"

"Yeah." Jax takes a long pull of his beer. "YN felt deeply betrayed, looked up to my ma like she was her own. When we found out who killed Tara, YN begged me to let her deal with it. I almost didn't, but Unser stuck his nose in my business and put a tail on me. We came up with an alibi for YN and let her deal with Gemma as she saw fit."

"And did she?" Bishop wonders, stroking his salt-n-pepper beard.

Happy smirks. "She did. Took Gemma out the way Gemma took her sister out."

"Which was how?"

Jax gulps, but pushes through the conversation. "By stabbing Gemma repeatedly in the back of the head with a barbecue fork."

"And no one suspected it was her?" Angel asks, awed.

"Nah. She's our fly on the wall. Everyone thinks she's damaged goods and we don't correct them. No one suspects the mute girl to be gathering intel."

Bishop chuckles. "That's actually kind of genius."

The men all get back to drinking, listening to Happy describe YN's fight and the fact that she's not scheduled for another for another three months. She eventually comes back out, a tight long sleeve plaid shirt taking the place of the hoodie she first wore. Tig grabs her attention, introducing her to Creeper who she grins and nods at before serving up a few shots and taking one with the two men.

The following morning, you task the prospects and the lingering croweaters to clean up the clubhouse and have everything set up for a family breakfast before you get back with the food. And since you are the President's sister who has no urge to crawl into the lap of any Son, the croweaters readily get to work without any huffing and puffing.

Nearly half an hour later, you return to the clubhouse with bags of food. The normal round tables have been pushed aside and long rectangular tables have been brought out. Three pots of steaming coffee are sitting atop the bar, stacks of styrofoam cups, milk, creamer, and sugar placed next to them. You set the bags of food on the table, pulling out containers of barbacoa meat, beef and bean tamales that had been wrapped up in foil, a few containers of green hot sauce, a bag of cut up lemons, and a stack of still hot tortillas.

You send the prospects to start knocking on doors and waking the sleeping men before you head towards the refrigerator and pull yourself out two cans of Big Red soda. Then making your way back out to the tables in the middle of the clubhouse, you grab yourself a paper plate and start to serve yourself before the men make it nearly impossible to.

Surprisingly, most of the men are already awake and settle down around the table as you're assembling your tacos. You spread some barbacoa on a tortilla, squeeze a bit of lemon juice on the meat, then open up a bean tamale to lay atop the meat. Then you sprinkle some salt before spooning some greet hot sauce onto it all, bringing two sides of the tortilla together and taking a bite. You hum in appreciation and then crack open a can of soda before taking a sip of it.

As you glance around the table, you see the Mayans all staring at you, amusement clear in their expression.

"Damn, guera, you can throw down, huh?" Creeper muses.

You grin at him, heat flooding your cheeks before you avert your eyes back to your food. Slowly but surely, everyone starts to fill their plates. And when you fill your second taco, adding even more hot sauce than the first time, you happily eat the spicy goodness.

"I have a question," Angel says in between bites of his food. "How does a white girl throw down with barbacoa and hot sauce? None of these white boys will even look at the hot sauce."

Jax laughs. "When YN was fifteen and Tara left for college, their uncle swooped in and took YN to Texas. The uncle's wife is Hispanic and apparently breakfast tacos and Big Red was a staple there. Had it every Sunday morning and now we have it once a week here too."

"Well, if it's a staple down in Texas, now we gotta try it too," Angel says. He glances at you, winking. "Got any more of those sodas, princesa?"

You roll your eyes at the nickname, nodding. Quickly wiping your fingers off on a napkin, you stand up to go grab four more of your sodas for the men to try. And when you make it back to the table, you hand each Mayan a soda since the Sons were all coffee drinkers in the morning.

EZ and Angel like the soda drink, Creeper takes a few sips before deciding he likes it, and Bishop hands his can off to Angel after the first sip. It seems he preferred his coffee as well.

Once breakfast is over and Jax sends Chibs, Tig and Happy to work in the garage, you drag your feet over to the couch where Opie is sitting. There's plenty of space on the couch next to him, but you want a cuddle after stuffing yourself full of food. So as the men are talking, you crawl into his lap without a word, curling up there and hiding your face in the side of his neck. He merely lifts his arm to position it behind your back, used to this behavior by now.

"She good?" You hear someone ask.

You grin against Opie's neck and raise a hand, giving the room a thumb's up. He chuckles as he rubs your back. "She's fine. She likes to curl up on any available lap after eating so much."

"My lap was empty too, cariña. You could have-"

The sound of a slap resonates around the room which sends the men into a round of laughter, and when you pick your head up enough to see what's going on, Bishop is shaking his head at Angel who's rubbing the back of his head with a very disgruntled expression. You huff a laugh and go back to dozing on Opie.

The men continue to talk shop as Opie lulls you back to sleep, but then the shouting of a prospect makes you jerk back into consciousness. "Ope! Old Lady incoming."

The Mayans all fidget in their seats as a petite blonde marches into the clubhouse, heading straight towards your small group.

"Uhh.. should the girl be-"

Bishop's words trail off as Lyla comes up to Opie's side, leaning over you to press a kiss to her husband's mouth. You squirm in his lap, turning your head just enough to pucker your lips at Lyla. She laughs. "One of these days I'm actually going to kiss you and then what?" You shrug and wiggle your eyebrows. "I'll get you to finally take up our offer on that threesome sooner or later."

Your nose wrinkles and you immediately climb out of Opie's lap, scowling at her as you curl up on the opposite side of the couch. Lyla laughs and claims her husband's lap for herself as he says, "Come on, Ly. We all know white boys don't do it for SAMCRO's princess."

You narrow your eyes as Opie and Jax chuckle, chuckles turning into full blown laughter as Angel asks, "Yeah? That mean I'm still in the running then?"

"Jesus Christ," EZ mumbles, rubbing the space between his brows.

As you glance at Angel, you can't help the heating of your cheeks as he slowly smirks at you.

Lyla giggles as you blush under the stare of the Mayan and she reaches over to wrap her hand around your ankle. "I'm in a shopping mood. What do you say you go shower and we'll get out of the club's hair for a bit?"

You smile at her, grateful for the escape. But before you can get up, Jax says, "You'll need an escort. We're in good standing with everyone, but it'll give me some peace of mind."

"Don't send Tig. Or Happy," Lyla says.

"You can take EZ," Bishop speaks up, gesturing to the man in question. EZ looks so startled at being volunteered for protection detail that Creeper and Angel burst into laughter.

Glancing at EZ, you gauge his reaction to make sure he's okay with going. And when he catches you trying to size him up, he relaxes and nods. "I, uh, it's fine. Just as long as I don't have to hold anyone's purse."

His brothers continue to snicker as you flash him a grin, shaking your head in amusement. As you pass him, you squeeze his shoulder in thanks and then disappear down the hallway that leads to your dorm.

It takes you just about twenty minutes to shower and change into something suitable for the public, and then you're tossing your wallet, phone, and ID into a mini backpack that you readily strap to your back. You put on some sunglasses to shield your eyes from the intense brightness you know that awaits you outside the building, and then walk back out to the front. Clapping your hands, you grab Lyla and EZ's attention.

Jax, Bishop and Angel call out for the three of you to be careful, and then Lyla is telling EZ that you'll be driving over to Lodi since that was the only place close enough to do some decent shopping. He follows behind you and Lyla on his bike, and thankfully the drive is very short.

EZ eyes the boutique Lyla parks in front of with a critical eye and you grin at him. You were pretty sure he was expecting a mall with several stops at various clothing stores, but you and Lyla had a specific place where you did all your shopping. The owner was kind and courteous, and even pulled aside items she thought you and Lyla would like to try on, on days like today.

Walking into the spacious back room, you slip off your backpack and let it fall onto the couch that's there. EZ hesitantly takes a seat, and you smile at him, nodding that it's okay. The owner reappears within a couple of minutes, dragging two racks of clothing along with her. She tells you that she's got some shoes and accessories in as well, and Lyla tells her to bring anything and everything that she thinks they'll like. And when the owner warily glances at EZ, Lyla waves off her concern and tells her that Jax is just being a little protective this morning. She laughs and then leaves to bring back even more items.

As you go through one rack, you hear Lyla explaining to EZ that this is the only place you'll be shopping and that you'll grab lunch afterwards. And once you have a few items you want to try on in hand, you walk over to a smaller room and pull the curtain behind you so you can change in private. You and Lyla usually changed out in the open, but with EZ there you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

The first outfit you try on are black faux leather pants that cling like a second skin, a white crop top that has two thin straps crisscrossing over your abdomen, and a cropped leather jacket. You walk out from behind the curtain and head straight for the small dais in front of a mirror, turning this way and that way to see whether or not you like it.

Lyla steps out from behind her curtain in her own outfit- a dress that leaves little to the imagination- and immediately, she says, "Yes! You're getting that outfit." You chuckle at her and then wiggle your foot for her to realize you need shoes. Her lips purse as she looks at the rack of shoes and then practically lunges for a pair of peep toe stilettos.

Shaking your head in amusement, you sit down to slip the shoes on the walk back to the dais.

"How do you girls even walk in shoes like that?" EZ asks. "I'd probably break a bone. Or three."

You meet his gaze in the mirror, smirking.

"Lots and lots of practice," Lyla answers for the both of you.

For the next hour, EZ endures outfit change after outfit change. He can't seem to comprehend how many items of clothing you and Lyla have tossed into your buy pile, but he doesn't utter a peep.

The last outfit in your pile is a pair of dark washed jean shorts, a black distressed tank top with the phases of the moon on the front of it, and a thin cream-colored cardigan whose hem falls just past your butt. When you walk out, you immediately head for a pair of dark gray suede ankle booties and zip them on before showing Lyla the final product.

"Yes."

When you glance at EZ, you catch him staring at your thigh. More specifically, the tattoo that nearly takes up your entire thigh of a howling wolf head and the full moon right behind it. "That's some detailed ink you got there."

You glance at Lyla and she smirks at you, nodding- encouraging you to finally speak. When Jax told the Mayans you were mute, he wasn't lying. He just failed to mention that it is selective mutism and you could speak when you were comfortable enough. And after spending these last couple of hours with EZ and Lyla, you've become comfortable. "La loba."

EZ's head snaps up at the sound of your voice, meeting your gaze as you offer him a small smile. "She-wolf?" He asks.

You subtly gulp. "It's what they.. call me in the ring."

"She's a vicious little thing when fighting," Lyla says. "It's brutal and fucking fantastic."

"Yeah?" The surprise slowly vacates his expression, and then he grins. "I'm gonna have to see you in action one of these days."

"My next match is still a few months away, but I'll let you know when and where it takes place."

"I'd like that."

You and Lyla end up with more bags than the two of you can carry, and EZ laughs as he helps the two of you load up your purchases. You treat the two of them to lunch, choosing a Mexican place since you were craving a quesadilla with some chips and salsa. You and Lyla each had a margarita, and EZ made the two of you wear sombreros so he could snap a picture of it. You asked him to send you the picture, and that was the beginning of yours and EZ's very platonic texting relationship since he was already in a relationship himself.

THREE MONTHS LATER

Angel Reyes is sitting outside the clubhouse, sunglasses shielding his eyes as he waits for his baby brother to get his ass outside and tell him what it is they're doing for the day. The day was still young and hot, and he'd rather be anywhere than sitting still under the blistering sun rays.

Finally, EZ walks out of the clubhouse just as the sound of a motorcycle comes up from behind him. Angel turns around after seeing his brother smirk and he's surprised to see the Tacoma Killer rolling into their lot. But not only that, he apparently has SAMCRO's princess perched on the seat behind him, looking completely at ease on the bike.

Angel stands as EZ comes up behind him, whistling lowly as he pushes his sunglasses up to rest atop his head. "You knew she was coming?"

"Yeah. She's got a match tonight in the next town over. I think Bishop's thinking about putting some cash down on her."

. .

The clubhouse doors bang open just as you and Happy climb off the bike, and Bishop walks down the steps. ¡Chiquitita!" You smile at him as he heads straight for you. "Are you feeling good about the fight tonight?"

You nod and readily hug the man as his arms spread wide. Glancing over his shoulder, you can't help but huff a laugh at EZ and Angel's surprised expressions.

"Did some research into her opponent," Happy says as you step back to stand by his side. "She has a decent record, but YN's is better. And she's in a good mood today so Jax is putting money down on her."

"Good, good." Bishop turns around, taking in the Reyes brothers. "I'm giving you five thousand. Bet it all on YN."

. .

Angel and EZ are anxiously waiting in the front row, taking in the cage in front of them. It looks almost professional, but the sketchy individuals all around them say otherwise. Happy had directed them where to place their bets and then settled them down in a specific spot. It was going to be a bit longer before YN fought.

When the matches get underway, EZ and Angel get to witness two men's matches and one female, letting the atmosphere get the best of them and carry them away. They're shouting and cheering and enjoying every bit of violence.

"I can't believe we never knew about this, 'mano," Angel says, taking a sip of his beer. "We could have been making bank."

EZ snorts. "I don't know about that. It's too risky. Bishop is only putting down money because of a Son's word. You think he's gonna be happy if YN loses tonight?"

Angel opens his mouth to retort, but the ring announcer steps into the cage once more. He introduces one female- a blonde with her hair done up in a french braid that hangs down her back. She's around 5'8, slightly ripped, and expression lax as she hops from foot to foot in her corner of the cage as the crowd cheers for her.

As the ring announcer introduces La loba, he's surprised at the crowd's instantaneous reaction. Even more so when EZ stands and bangs his hand on the cage. The woman that steps into the cage is wearing a small silk robe with a hood covering her head, but it's open in the front so he can see the sports bra, black spandex shorts, and the tattoo of a howling wolf on her thigh. La loba. She wolf.

As she pushes the hood off and stares at her opponent, Angel swears as he sees YN. "Fuck. You knew?" He then asks his brother, seeing how excited he is.

When EZ settles down, he nods. "Yeah. Apparently, she's a vicious little thing in the ring. Lyla said it's a sight to behold."

When the fight starts, Angel seems to hold his breath as YN and her opponent bump their taped fists together. Then like a switch was flipped, both women go on the attack. Fists fly out- aimed at the head, ribs and abdomen. Forearms deflect the hits, but some are not quick enough. YN clips her opponent on the chin, briefly dazing her, and that's all the opening she needs. YN goes on the attack immediately, fists throwing punches in a flurry before she grasps onto the girl's neck. As she pulls her down until she's hunched, YN quickly drives her knee into her opponent's abdomen and chest over and over.

A bell dings and a ref throws himself between the two women before sending them to opposite corners. The crowd and EZ go wild, and Happy smugly saunters into the ring to give YN some water and to wipe her down.

"Holy shit."

"I know," EZ agrees. "That was just one round. Can you imagine the next?"

The second round is just as vicious as the first, but YN gets severely pissed off when she drops her guard and takes a hit to the face right before the bell rings. The Reyes brothers sharply suck in some air at the look YN gives her opponent, thanking their lucky stars that they're not the one in the ring with her. Again, Happy cleans up YN, taking care to clean up the small cut at YN's eyebrow and telling her something while she glares across the ring.

Then in the third round, YN lets her opponent tire herself out before delivering an uppercut to the underside of the woman's chin. It's lights out for her.

The crowd goes absolutely wild as Happy rushes into the cage, lifting YN so she's settled on one of his shoulders in victory.

The ring announcer goes through the motions of announcing the victor before reminding everyone where to collect their winnings, and then the Reyes brothers are pushing through the crowd to get to Happy and YN.

When the Reyes brothers are led to a small room, they walk in to find Happy tending to YN's cut. Her eyes meet theirs and she flashes them a smile, beckoning them further in.

"Damn, querida," Angel muses. "That was one hell of a fight. Who knew you could throw down like that."

You smirk at him. "The she-wolf title should have tipped you off, guapo."

Angel's jaw drops open, and Happy and EZ snort. "You- you talk?"

"Selective mutism, 'mano." EZ nudges his brother's shoulder. "She can talk when she feels comfortable."

"Which is mostly when there's not a lot of people around and she knows you," Happy says. "Social anxiety sucks."

You roll your eyes as Happy puts a butterfly bandage over your cut and then you turn around to get dressed. You pull on a pair of jeans and a tank top that EZ remembers you buying from that shopping trip months ago, and then slip your feet into a pair of boots. Happy hands you a leather jacket before dropping the strap of your duffel bag over your head.

"So, who's gonna let me ride with them back to the clubhouse? Bishop's throwing a party and I need a drink or three before we roll out back to Charming tomorrow afternoon."

"You can ride me- I mean with me, querida." Angel smirks.

You snort as Happy and EZ roll their eyes, knowing full well Angel messed up that line on purpose. You glance at Happy, questioning whether or not he's okay with that, and he shrugs. "You're a grown woman, hermanita. You can ride whoever you want."

This time it's your turn to roll your eyes as the Reyes brothers laugh. Then throwing caution to the wind, you grab Angel's wrist and drag him out of the room.

"Should I be worried about that?" EZ asks, chuckling.

"For your brother? Maybe." Happy shrugs. "YN is a whole lot of woman and I'm not sure Angel's prepared for that. You saw how shocked he was when she spoke to him for the first time."

"True."

"Though she won't speak when there's a large crowd around, she will drink so long as she's surrounded by someone she trusts. She's got me, you, and now your brother. He's about to realize what he's just signed up for the moment she downs a fifth shot."

EZ laughs. "Then let's get out of here. I wanna see Angel panic over a girl for once."

guera - white girl princesa - princess cariña - darling guapo - handsome

#soa gen fic x reader #mayans gen fic x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #mayans imagine #mayans mc imagine #sons of anarchy #soa #mayans #mayans mc #jax teller #opie winston #lyla wintson #happy lowman #angel reyes #ez reyes #bishop losa #sons of anarchy fanfiction #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans fanfiction

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captain-hen · 1 year

Text

extremely self indulgent speculation for the finale

The realization doesn’t come upon him all at once. It washes over him in waves, slowly, gradually; from the collapse of the overpass and Eddie going missing, to finding him again, to sitting by his side as he sleeps in the hospital, to coaching Connor through his fears over fatherhood, where Buck realizes that all this time, without even knowing, he’d been thinking of Christopher as his kid. The pieces eventually slot into place, so neatly and perfectly that once Buck can see the full picture, he wonders how he’s been so blind to it, all along.

You need to step into that trap with her, Bobby had told him about Abby, and Buck had never even gotten the chance to do that with her, but he’s been doing it, every single day with Eddie without giving it a second thought. You don’t find it, son. You make it. Thomas had told him, and isn’t that exactly what Buck has done with Eddie and Chris? Built a family with them?

And yet, somehow, it’s taken him this long to figure out. Another near-death experience. Yet another series of heart-stopping, terrifying moments, where he didn’t know if Eddie was alive or dead. He could have been too late. He could have—

Buck draws in a deep breath, pausing at his front door, jacket in one hand and keys in the other. He doesn’t even know what to do with this new-found revelation. All he wants is to go to Eddie’s, to bask in the warmth of his home, to look upon him and Chris with fresh eyes and see what he’s been missing this whole time, to see for his own eyes that it’s real.

Then…what? What if Eddie doesn’t feel the same way? What if he does?

Buck can’t decide which prospect is more terrifying.

Before he can second-guess himself anymore, Buck flings open his door.

He nearly falls over himself in surprise when he sees Natalia standing on the other side, her fist raised to knock, looking just as startled as he does.

“…Hey,” Buck says, slowly, confused.

Truth be told, in the chaos of the past couple of days, he’d almost forgotten about her and their…breakup, if that’s even what it could’ve been called, given how short-lived their relationship was. And now she’s here. On his doorstep.

“Hi,” Natalia gives him a hesitant, embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I was…I mean, I heard what happened, with the overpass. Are you okay?”

That’s why she’s here? Feeling a strange sense of déjà vu, Buck nods. “I’m fine.”

“I feel bad,” Natalia goes on. “About how we left things. I shouldn’t have walked out like that, it—it wasn’t very mature of me.”

“That’s okay,” Buck surprises himself with how much he means it. It really is okay. He has no hard feelings…no feelings at all, really, just a strange sense of detachment, and impatience, because right now, all he wants to do is get to Eddie’s house. “You didn’t have to come all the way here to apologize.”

Natalia shakes her head. “I felt I owed you that much, at least,” she admits. “And I was thinking…maybe I was too hasty, the other day. You’ve lived a hell of a life, but that doesn’t mean it’s a reason we shouldn’t try to do this, right?”

Buck stares at her. “You’re saying you want to give it another shot?”

She nods. “Like I said, I jumped the gun before. Maybe we could take the time to know each other. See where it goes.”

Buck can then recognize where the sense of déjà vu is coming from—this is just how it was with Taylor, all over again. Obviously, Natalia isn’t Taylor—thank god—but her leaving, and then changing her mind again and coming back, it feels a lot like his history with Taylor is being rewritten all over again but in a different font.

I think I’m afraid of making a mistake again, he’d told Bobby, and he’d meant it. Dating Natalia wouldn’t be as colossal of a fuck-up as dating Taylor was, but Buck is starting to realize that it would be a mistake, nonetheless. Eddie or no Eddie.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says, after taking a breath, and winces when her face falls slightly. “I think—I think you were right to leave, before. We were interested in each other for all the wrong reasons, and that’s not a good way to start something real.”

Buck had told Eddie that he thought Natalia saw him for who he was but in reality, she was only seeing the side he allowed her to. Not fucked-up, traumatized Evan Buckley, who died for three minutes and seventeen seconds and hasn’t been able to shake the nagging sense fear and dread following him around since. He could be someone entirely different, and she wouldn’t be able to call him out on it because she doesn’t know him, not really.

But Eddie does. Eddie knows him, and Eddie has seen him, seen right through all his bullshit, since day one.

And Buck is tired of going in the same circles. He just wants to go home.

“I see,” Natalia says, after an uncomfortable pause. “Well. I really am sorry.”

Buck shakes his head. “Me too,” he says, wryly. “I know all of that was…a lot.”

Natalia laughs a little, and Buck is relieved that she doesn’t seem too hurt by his rejection. “Maybe not for the right person,” she says, and glances pointedly at the keys clutched in his hand, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor—Buck hadn’t even realized he was doing it. “You look like you have somewhere to be.”

Buck grins, and feels lighter and happier than he has in ages. “Yeah, I do,” he says, softly. “I really do.”

#don't LOOK at me i don't know what this is #neethu writes #buddie #buddie fic #otp: you two have an adorable son #911 fox

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mvltisstuff · 11 months

Text

boyfriends - e.b

summary: after dealing with her boyfriend for years, she finally decides to end things with help from buck.

evan buckley x reader

based on the song boyfriends by harry styles :))

a/n: guys i’m on s5 and what the duck is happening. also pretend ravi has been there for longer bc i literally love him

the table was set with thin candles and ceramic plates under a maroon tablecloth. there were light rain noises coming from outside, calming the room with the dim lights. the aroma of homemade pasta and white wine was filling the room. dressed in her neat jean skirt and black top, y/n sat in one of the chairs at the table.

the door unlocked and swung open with an aggressive stomping coming in with a swaying man. “hey, princess! sorry i’m late i was just busy.” slurring his words together, he walks over as she stands up.

“i thought you were at work.” she states, quietly. she’s confused as he should smell like an office, but instead radiates a busy bar and whisky.

“oh, the guys wanted to go out, sorry about dinner,” he says, slumping on the couch.

“i planned this whole thing, cam. you really couldn’t blow them off for one night?”

“it was just dinner! it’s not like we didn’t have food here.”

“yeah, food for us, that i made for you!” she starts getting annoyed but it’s impossible to argue with a drunk person. “it’s fine, i’ll just take it to work.” clearly annoyed, she pulls the plates out and clears them off into tupperware.

“well don’t be pissed at me because i wanted to hang out with the boys,” he says, his words barely making sense. she doesn’t fight back, knowing he won’t even remember this in the morning.

“go to bed, cameron.” y/n says, before entering the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

————————————————————————

dressing for work, y/n wakes up to throw on her uniform. she gathers her things to prepare for another long shift at the 118, and she notices his keys gone, along with his work belongings.

she walks out the door after grabbing the leftovers she had spent hours preparing for someone who spent hours not caring. she walks into the station to be greeted by her real family.

“hey, y/n!” eddie says, organizing one of the trucks with buck.

buck gives her a sweet smile, noticing the abnormal lack of excitement on her face. she walks over and talks to them a bit, drained of energy but still ready to force herself through the day.

as much as she didn’t want to leave her apartment, being at the station felt more of a warm welcome. stepping in through the garage doors, the cold air from her apartment and life outside had evaporated.

the team goes upstairs to the kitchen, as bobby is making coffee for everyone. y/n leaves her extra food on the counter to show people.

“what’s all this from, y/n?” bobby asks. “you didn’t have to bring this.”

“oh, it’s just my l-“ she cuts herself off. “i made this to bring to you guys. i made the pasta myself.”

“it’s delicious!” buck says, a mouthful of pasta and covering his mouth. he tries to lighten her mood after seeing directly through her lies.

he had met cameron before, never really being a fan of him. she’d brought him to one of the gatherings, and he spent the whole time ignoring her existence, and then getting mad at her for being upset. he knew she deserved better, and honestly, he thought, she deserves him. he wanted to help her, but didn’t want to cross the line and help where he wasn’t needed.

“really, buck? couldn’t even heat it up?” hen asks, slightly disappointed but expecting nothing else from him.

they all walk away back to their own chores around the station, as bobby stays in the kitchen. “hey, y/n!” buck runs up behind her.

“yeah? you ok?”

“that’s… kinda my question to you.” he stutters a bit. “it’s just- just wanna make sure everything’s okay, you don’t seem as… bright and bubbly as normal.”

buck and y/n had been friends for a long time, knowing how each other felt all the time. they were able to connect with one another so easily, and buck knew that something was wrong with her. he missed her happy mood, that seemed to have faded away more with every shift.

“oh, i’m fine, buck.” she smiles. “it’s just been a lot of work and sleeping, and repeat.”

she lies to him again about cameron, even though he knows the truth. “y/n/n, come on. don’t lie to me.”

“what?” she peeps out.

“talk to me, please.” he begs her to open up because he just wants to make her feel better. “is it cam?”

“n-no, buck. stop, it’s fine.”

that answer alone told him everything he needed to know. he doesn’t know all the details of their relationship, but it’s almost like cam pretends they aren’t even in one.

y/n doesn’t know why she defends him so much, or why she sticks up with it. she’s hoped things will change for a while, but usually nothing looks up. she loves him, she does. at least she thinks so. she provides so much for both of them, and has put in so much energy to their relationship, only for broken promises in return. she has hope that the time she’s put in was worth it, but every day when she goes home to him it becomes weaker. being a first responder, she wants to help everyone she can. she wants to be able to fix their relationship and she wants to feel valued, for once. people tell her all the time how she saved them, and she so badly wants him to realize that everyone needs to be saved. she’s given him the world, and it’s not long before she takes it all back.

“i know it’s not. i’m here for you, and if he’s not good to you i’m gonna be-“

“buck, just drop it! i’m doing the best i can!” her voice raises in defense, and he pulls her into the locker rooms. “im drained from this relationship, right now and i cannot get into this with you right now. this is my only escape, evan.” her light tears form in her eyes before her breathing becomes sharper. the other workers look at them, but with death stares from hen, chimney, and eddie they look away. they’re listening too, they never really liked him either but figured it was none of their business. it hurts to see their friend in this situation.

“i know, it’s gonna be ok.” he pulls her into a hug in hopes to calm her down. “you didn’t make that for us, didn’t you?”

“no, i made it for him. then he came home completely wasted and told me not to make a big deal out of it. i spent my one day off making this big ass dinner for him, and he couldn’t even take a minute to say thank you.”

“look at me, y/n.” buck pulls away and places his hands on your shoulders. “it is not your fault he’s not good enough for you. he is not. good. enough.”

“no,” she whispers.

“yes,” he says. “you deserve better than what he’s giving you.”

she shakes her head and his heart breaks more. there is no way that he has given her so much shit that she doesn’t believe it’s his own fault. the tears come stronger and run down her damp cheeks. “i can’t just leave him, buck. i cant hurt him like that because some part of me still loves him.”

“i know, but it is for the better.”

“i don’t think i have the power to end things. he wouldn’t listen to me and i can’t bring myself to break his heart.” she cries.

“you need to leave him before he breaks yours any more than it already is.” y/n calls back into his chest, and he sits her down on the benches. his own eyes are becoming glossy at the pain of watching his best friend have to deal with this. he’s had his own fair share of bad relationships, but they never meant anything because he is scared of this happening. it hurts his heart to know that she’s been carrying herself through this relationship as he’s just been more weight on her shoulders.

——————————————————————��—

the door of the apartment swings open again, as usually. surprisingly, the smell of liquor doesn’t hit y/n’s nose. cameron walks in, placing his bags on the floor by the door. “y/n?”

“y/n? where are you?” he calls out again and she makes her way out of the bedroom. “hey, you. did you make dinner?”

“no.” she says, maintaining eye contact.

“o-oh? we don’t have leftovers?”

“no, cameron. i took them to the station.” she says. “you would remember i told you that, but you were too drunk to remember.”

“what are you talking about, y/n? i went out for drinks, i don’t know why you have to be so bitchy about it.” she’s made her decision to leave, but the names still sting inside.

“well, you don’t have to deal with it anymore.”

“what the hell is that supposed to mean? youre not actually leaving me.” he let’s out a patronizing chuckle at her words, but she stands her ground.

“i am leaving you, cameron. my stuff is in my car, and we are over.” she doesn’t move from her spot on the ground, scared to move her glued feet like she’d fall over.

he laughs again with a critical grin on his face, again. “and where do you think you’ll go? i pay for this apartment, i pay the bills. you have nothing without me. y/n.”

“i work at the best fire station with the highest ranking paramedics and firefighters out there.” she retorts back. “i’ll be just fine without you, hell, i practically have been for the past two years.”

“you’re embarrassing yourself, baby girl.” y/n’s expression scrunches up from the cringe of the pet name that she’s always hated.

“don’t ever call me that again.”

“you have no where to go, you can’t stay at your stupid job forever.” he takes a step closer, and she takes another one back.

“actually, she’s going to stay with me until she can find an apartment.” buck says, coming around the corner, sensing her fear.

cam rubs his face. “y/n, please. we can do this together. you know i love you.” his immediate switches in mood is what she can’t control anymore, and she can no longer deal with it.

“some version of me out there still loves you back, and i feel insane amounts of nothing but pity for her.” y/n spits out at him.

“you’re a fucking psycho,” he says, and buck runs over to create more distance, standing between the two. y/n turns around, running her hands through her hair, trying to disappear.

“we’re leaving, y/n/n.” buck says, gripping your waist. “let’s go.”

“fuck, whatever. get the hell out.” cameron finally moves to the side and y/n and buck walk out of y/n’s old ‘home’ for the last time.

they stand outside in the parking lot, standing side by side as a speechless y/n stares in the distance. “i won’t stay for too long, i’ve found a few nice apartments to look at.”

“don’t worry about anything, y/n. you can stay there forever if it means you’re not there anymore.”

being faced with this much kindness and loving actions overwhelms her, making even more tears that she didn’t know she had pool in her eyes. “don’t cry, please. it’s ok, i’m here.” he pulls her back in and pats the back of her hair. “why don’t you drive over to my place, i’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

they go their separate ways and start driving to his nice apartment and already, it feels more like home than hers ever did.

buck pulls out his phone in the parking lot, in his car. he dials a few numbers and pulls the phone to his ear.

“hey, maddie. you busy tonight?”

————————————————————————

going up the stairs, y/n only had the energy to bring in a single bag to his apartment tonight. they walk side by side to his door together, his arm around her shoulders. buck fumbles with his keys and looks at her red, worn out eyes.

when he unlocks the door, y/n immediately notices all her family around bucks kitchen. she places her eyes on everyone, bobby and athena, hen, ravi, chimney and maddie, even christopher and eddie are there. “hey, y/l/n, welcome home.” athena is the first to say. and for the first time of the night, a fixed smile shines through her.

“hi guys, you all crowded in here?”

“thanks to this one, we wanted to be here for you, y/n.” hen says, pointing to buck.

“you did this?” she asks, sweetly, as if they all had just wrapped her hurt heart with the bandages of their love.

“i guess you could say that.” buck smiles, not wanting to take credit, but happy that he’s finally put some light in her mind.

“y/n, come over here and show us how you made that pasta.” bobby says, calling her over to start making dinner. “maddies going to start a salad.”

“ooh! i can make margaritas!” buck exclaims, excitedly.

“um, i can get behind that!” chim says.

everyone gathered around the kitchen, y/n notices her family all around, taking in the love they’ve given her. they would never have to take the time out of their day to come hang out in bucks tiny apartment if they didn’t truly care about her.

after a while, only buck and her remain in the kitchen. as everyone else squeezes into his living room, some people literally sitting on top of each other.

“hey, i don’t know how to thank you for all of this.”

“you don’t have to thank me for anything. this,” buck says, looking around the room. “is what you’ve deserved. and i will do anything to make sure you know that.”

they keep their eyes together, feeling everything from the day come down on them. both of them have their fears, but they seem to fade away and they forget about everyone else. realizing how much he really cares about her has changed everything for her. she loves buck more than she would ever have been able to love cameron. she reaches up impulsively, grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him in. she gives him a deep kiss and buck swears he’s levitating off the ground. his heart is on fire, waiting for this moment since they met. he didn’t expect anything in return, but he will say that this is a pretty nice reward.

buck leans back and shines a toothy grin at her, and she giggles. “you are very welcome.” he says, barely being able to get words out from his happiness.

they look over after hearing tiny giggles in the room. they both look over simultaneously, seeing christopher with an adorable, shining smile at them. he’s covering his mouth, but failing to conceal himself. “hi, christopher.” buck says.

“hi, buck! hi y/n!” he says, still not being able to wipe the smile away.

back in the living room, with maddies legs draped over him, chimney says to hen with a smirk, “and just like that, i am 20 dollars richer.”

“oh come on, chim, we all knew it was bound to happen.” hen laughs and they welcome y/n and buck back over.

#911 #911onfox #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley x reader #evan buckley #evan buckley fanfic #evan buckley x reader #athena grant #henrietta wilson #maddie buckley #howie han #ravi panikkar

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layce2015 · 7 months

Text

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Point Of No Return

Masterlist pt 1

Masterlist pt 2

Dean packs away his belongings in a box, including his leather jacket, his keys, his gun, and a letter. It had been a couple of days since Dean broke up with (y/n) and turned his back on this mission. He just had about enough of this crap.

He marks the box for Robert Singer after he tapes it shut. Dean walks up to the dresser in front of mirror and pours himself a drink and raising the glass to his lips. "Sending someone a candy-gram?" Sam asked, causing Dean to pause before he could take a sip.

Dean turn to look at him, shocked. "How'd you find me?" He asked. "You're going to kill yourself, right?" Sam asked, trying not to sound bitter. "Is that why you broke (y/n)'s heart and left her behind?" Sam asked, trying to hold back anger. "I'm not going to kill myself." Dean said. "No? So Michael's not about to make you his Muppet?" Sam asked and Dean shakes his head and took a swig of his drink.

"What the hell, man? This is how it ends? You just...walk out?" Sam asked. "Yeah, I guess." Dean muttered, pouring himself another drink. "How could you do that?" Sam asked. "How could I?" Dean asked, slamming the bottle of alcohol back on the dresser as he stares at his brother sharply. "All you've ever done is run away." He spat at his younger brother.

"And I was wrong. Every single time I did!" Sam exclaimed, Dean stares back. "Just...please. Not now. Bobby is working on something." Sam pleads. "Oh, really? What?" Dean asked, moving back over to the bed but Sam doesn't respond.

"You got nothing and you know it." Dean said, he scoffs and takes a sip of his drink. "You know I have to stop you." Sam muttered. Dean sniffs and sets his glass on the box, not finishing it. "Yeah, well, you can try. Just remember: You're not all hopped up on demon blood this time." He said.

"Yeah, I know. But I brought help." Sam said. Dean turns around to find Castiel standing behind him. Before he could react, Castiel touches his fingers to Dean's forehead, knocking him out.

After returning to Bobby's house, Sam and Bobby were reading through books. Castiel leans against the doorway the leads into the kitchen, watching Dean pace like hawk. "Yeah, no, this is good. Really. You know, eight months of turned pages and screwed pooches but tonight, tonight's when the magic happens." Dean said, sarcastically. "You ain't helpin'." Bobby said. "Yeah, well, why don't you let me get out of your hair, then?" Dean asked, Bobby look up from his book to stare at him.

Suddenly, Ariel appears and she stomps over to Dean and slaps him. "What the hell happened to you? Why did you hurt (y/n)?" She asked him, angrily, while Sam, Cas and Bobby look on in shock. Dean shakes his head slightly at this then turns to face Ariel. "Reality happened. Nuclear's the only option we have left. Michael can ice the devil, save a boatload of people." Dean replied. "But not all of them. We gotta think of something else." Ariel said.

"Yeah, well, that's easy for you to say. But if Lucifer burns this mother down, and I coulda done something about it, guess what? That's on me!" Dean yelled. "So you are just gonna give up and turn on the people who love you?" Ariel said as she gestures to Bobby, Sam and Cas. "To the woman who loves you with all of her heart?" She asked. "What I did to (y/n) was to protect her!" Dean yells at Ariel.

“You call that protection? She never asked you to protect her, you made that decision for her. You hurt her in a way that’s unforgivable and unfair to her. You think it was out of love but in reality it was selfish.” Ariel said and Dean looks at her offended. “Selfish?” He repeated, angrily. “You left her behind in tears not because you didn’t want her getting hurt. You left her because you didn’t want to risk the pain of losing her. YOU didn’t want to get hurt!” Ariel exclaimed and Dean glares at her. “You didn’t respect her or believe she was capable enough to fight along side us.” Ariel yelled as she steps closer to him. “You don’t know a damn thing!” Dean shouted.

“I know that you’re being a selfish coward!” Ariel shouted back, her eyes glowing blue as her shadowy wings appeared, spreading out to make herself appear larger and more threatening. Dean, cautiously, steps back as he stares at the angry archangel right in front of him. Sam and Bobby look at the wings in amazement, while Cas steps froward. “Ariel.” He said, warningly.

Ariel closes her eyes and calms down, her wings disappearing. When she opens her eyes, they're back to her vessel’s normal blue eyes. “And now you’re giving up. I used to respect that you were so resilient…but I can see now that I was wrong.” Ariel spat at him and Dean glares at her then turns his head away from her.

"Well, Ariel's right. You can't give up, son." Bobby said. Dean scoffs, shaking his head as he looks towards the floor. "You're not my father." He said, raising his head to look at Bobby, who stares back at him heartbroken. "And you ain't in my shoes." Dean said.

Bobby looks down, Sam turns to glare at Dean. When Dean looks over at Sam, Sam shakes his head at him. Bobby pulls out a gun out of his desk and sets it on the table. He takes a bullet out of his pocket and looks at it. "What is that?" Dean asked.

"That's the round that I mean to put through my skull." Bobby replied, setting the bullet down on his desk in front of him. "Every morning, I look at it. I think, Maybe today's the day I flip the lights out. But I don't do it. I never do it. You know why? BECAUSE I PROMISED YOU I WOULDN'T GIVE UP!" Bobby yells, angrily. Dean and Bobby stare at each other, no one saying anything. Then suddenly Castiel and Ariel grasp their heads and hunch over in pain. "Guys, you okay?" Sam asked, worried. "No." Castiel and Ariel replied, gasping.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked. "Something's happening." Ariel groans. "Where?" Dean asked. The two angels disappear and caused a gust of wind to throw papers around the room.

Later, Sam and Dean went into the kitchen and Sam looks over at his older brother. "You know...when (y/n) called me to tell me what you did. She barely could get her words out. I asked where she was and she was able to get that out and Cas got me to her." Sam said and Dean clenches his jaw at this.

"Sam..." he mutters, exasperated. "No, Dean, quit making excuses! I know you thought what you did was right but Ariel’s right, what you did was selfish!" Sam said. “Not you too.” Dean grumbled, looking up at the ceiling tired. “Did you even know what you did? You took away her choices and pick what you think is best for her. That’s controlling and possessive.” Sam said.

“Oh it is?” Dean asked. “Yes it is! (Y/n) is a person not a piece of property. She has needs and as her boyfriend it’s your job to respect them and try to fulfill them.” Sam said. “What, you’re some relationship expert now, huh? No offense but I don’t really want advice from the guy who’s had every relationship with a woman end poorly.” Dean said and Sam glares back at him when another gust of wind blows papers around and Castiel and Ariel appear with a body.

"Help." Cas said and the two angels lay the body down on the cot right as Sam and Dean ran in from the kitchen. They look at the body and freeze when they saw it was Adam.

Bobby wheels himself over to the cot to look at him. "Who is it?" He asked. "That's our brother." Sam replied. "Wait a minute. Your brother? Adam?" Bobby asked, astounded. "Guys, what the hell?" Dean asked, turning to the angels who place two angel blades on the desk. "Angels." Ariel said.

"Angels? Why?" Sam asked. "I know one thing for sure. We need to hide him now." Castiel said, walking over to Adam and placing his hand to his chest. He brands the Enochian symbols on Adam's ribs to hide him from angels. This also cause Adam to wake up from the pain and sit up startled looking around.

"Where am I?" He asked. "It's okay. Just relax, you're safe." Sam assured him. "Who the hell are you?" Adam asked. "You're going to find this a little...a lot crazy, but we're actually your brothers." Dean said and Adam gives him a look of disbelief. "It's the truth. John Winchester was our father, too. See, I'm Sam..." Sam started to say, but Adam talked over him. "Yeah, and I'm sure that's Dean. I know who you are." Adam said then he looks around, as if he was looking for someone.

"Isn't there supposed to be a girl with you?" He asked and Dean turns his head away, upset. "She's not here right now. But...how do you know who we are?" Sam asked after everyone gave Adam a look of astonishment. "They warned me about you." Adam said. "Who did?" Dean asked. "The angels. Now where the hell is Zachariah?!" Adam asked.

After letting Adam clean himself up, they all sat down to figure out what's going on. "So why don't you just tell us everything? Start from the beginning." Dean said. "Well, I was dead and in Heaven. 'Cept it...it uh, kinda looked like my prom and I was making out with this girl, her name was Kristin McGee..." Adam explained, smiling a little. "Yeah, that sounds like heaven. Did you get to third base?" Dean asked. Sam clears his throat, shooting Dean a look. "Just uh, just keep going." Sam said to Adam.

"Well, these...these angels, they popped out of nowhere, and they tell me that I-I'm chosen." Adam said. "For what?" Sam asked. "To save the world." Adam replied. "How you gonna do that?" Dean asked. "Oh, me and some archangel are going to kill the devil." Adam said, nonchalantly.

"What archangel?" Dean asked, confused. "Michael. I'm his uh, sword or vessel or something, I don't know." Adam said and Dean scoffs. "Well, that's insane." He said. "Not necessarily." Ariel said. "How do you mean?" Dean asked, looking over his shoulder at the angel. "It sounds like they're moving on from you, Dean." Ariel said.

"Well that doesn't make sense." Dean said. "He is John Winchester's bloodline, Sam's brother. It's not perfect, but it's possible." Castiel explained. "Well you gotta be kidding me." Dean grumbled. "Why would they do this?" Sam asked. "They're desperate. They wrongly assumed Dean would be brave enough to withstand them." Ariel said as she gives Dean a hard look.

"Alright, you know what? Blow me, Ariel." Dean growled. Castiel stares back, confused, while Ariel looks at him in, shock horror. "Excuse me?!" She exclaims but Sam speaks up, trying to avoid another fight. "Look, no way. After everything that's happened? All that crap about destiny? Suddenly the angels have a Plan B? Does that smell right to anybody?" Sam asked.

"You know this has been a really moving family reunion, but uh, I got a thing, so..." Adam said, standing up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, no, no, no. Sit down. Just listen, okay? Please." Sam pleaded, stopping him. Adam stares at him and shakes his head then sits back down. "It's unbelievable." He muttered. "Now, Adam...the angels are lying to you. They're full of crap." Sam said. "Yeah, I don't think so." Adam said.

"Really. Why not?" Sam asked. "Um, 'cause they're angels." Adam replied. "They tell you they were gonna roast half the planet?" Sam asked. "They said the fight might get pretty hairy, but it is the devil, right? So we got to stop him." Adam said.

"Yeah, but there's another way." Sam said. "Great. What is it?" Adam asked. "We're working on the power of love." Dean said and Sam glares at him. "How's that going?" Adam asked. "Mmm. Not good." Dean said, smiling.

"Look, Adam...You don't know me from a hole in the wall, I know. But I'm begging you. Please, just trust me. Give me some time." Sam said. "Give me one good reason." Adam said. Sam thinks for a moment. "Because we're blood." He said and Adam glares at him. "You've got no right to say that to me." He spat, making Sam look at him confused.

"You're still John's boy." Bobby reminded him. "No, John Winchester was some guy who took me to a baseball game once a year. I don't have a dad. So we may be blood, but we are not family. My mom is my family. And if I do my job, I get to see her again. So no offense, but she's the one I give a rat's ass about, not you." Adam explained. "Fair enough. But if you have one good memory of dad, just one, then you'll give us a little more time. Please." Sam pleaded.

That night, Sam enters the kitchen and catches Adam trying to sneak out. "Going somewhere?" Sam asked. Adam stops making a frustrated gesture and turn around to face him. "Out for a...beer." He said, pointing to the door, and Sam claps his hands. "Great. We got beer. Have a seat." Sam said, going to the fridge. "Great." Adam grumbled, walking over to the table and taking a seat.

"You know, you pitched this whole dewy-eyed bromance thing, but the truth is, I'm on lockdown, aren't I?" He asked. "Adam, you may not believe it, but dad was trying to protect you. Keeping you from all of this." Sam said, as he walks over to the table, setting two beers in front of him and Adam then taking a seat next across from Adam.

"Yeah well, I guess the monster that ate me didn't get that memo." Adam said. "You remember that?" Sam asked. "Oh yeah." Adam replied. "Still, trust me. The one thing worse than seeing dad once a year was seeing him all year." Sam said.

"Do you know how full of crap you are?" Adam asked and Sam gives him a stunned look. "What?" He asked. "Really. You see, it was me and it was my mom. That's it. She worked the graveyard shift at the hospital. I cooked my own dinners. I put myself to bed. So you can say whatever you want about our dad, but the truth is, I would have taken anything." Adam explained and Sam nods his head a little.

"Alright?" Adam asked. "Look, if we had known we had a brother..." Sam started to say. "Well, you didn't, so..." Adam spat. "We would have found you." Sam said. Adam scoffs and shakes his head. "Look, I can't change the past. I wish I could. But from here on out..." Sam said. "What? We gonna hop in the family truckster? Pop on down to Wally World?" Adam said, sarcastically, and Sam chuckles, lightly, at this. "Tell you one thing, with an attitude like that, you would have fit right in around here." Sam said.

In the basement, Dean was locked up in the panic room. He paces around, annoyed, when the door opens and Castiel and Ariel walk in. Dean turns around just as Ariel steps aside to reveal (y/n) standing behind her.

Suddenly, Dean felt his heart break as he sees her. Her eyes still looked a bit red and she had her arms folded across her chest, glaring at Dean. "Why don't you guys go help Sam to keep an eye on Adam? Dean and I need to talk." (Y/n) said, her voice sounding hoarse.

"You sure?" Ariel asked her and (y/n) nods and the two angels leave, shutting the door behind them. The duo stare at each other for a moment before Dean decides to try and lighten the mood as the air was thick with tension. "Well, (y/n), not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that...I got laid." He said as he points at her glaring face.

(y/n) scoffs at this but Dean could've sworn he heard a bit of amusement and laugh as she did this. Almost like she was hiding her laughter. Dean frowns slightly as (y/n) paces back and forth.

"Look, I know you're pissed..." Dean said and she scoffs again. "Understatement of the freakin' century." (Y/n) said, in harsh sarcasm. "But this..." Dean said, gesturing to the panic room. "Isn't really necessary." He finished. "Well, we got our hands full, Dean...A house full of flight risks from what Sam told me." (y/n) said. "I'm not letting him do it." Dean said. "Who, Adam? No, I'm...I'm not, either. And neither is Sam." (y/n) said. "No, you're not getting me." Dean said, turning away.

"Oh, no, no, I get you perfectly. But I'm not letting you do it, either." (Y/n) said, in a harsh voice. Dean sighs then takes a seat on a table in the room. "That kid's not taking a bullet for me." He said. "Dean..." (y/n) said, exasperated. "I'm serious. I mean, think about how many people we've gotten killed, (y/n). Mom, Dad, your Mom and Dad, Jess, Jo, Ellen. Should I keep going?" Dean asked her. "It's not like we pulled the trigger." (Y/n) argued.

"We might as well have. I'm tired, (y/n). I'm tired of fighting who I'm supposed to be." Dean said. "Well, do you think maybe you could take a half a second and stop trying to sacrifice yourself for a change? Maybe we could actually stick together?" (Y/n) yells at him, angrily. "I don't think so." Dean mutters, sadly. "Why not? Dean, seriously. Tell me. I-I want to know." (y/n) said and Dean sits there, staring at her then turns his head away from her. "Don't you dare shut down on me! Talk to me, please!" (Y/n) pleaded.

"I just...I-I don't believe." Dean said. "In what?" (y/n) asked. Dean looks at (y/n), brokenly. "In Sam." He said. (Y/n) turns her head away, not wanting to hear that. "I mean, I don't. I don't know whether it's gonna be demon blood or some other demon chick or what, but...I do know they're gonna find a way to turn him." Dean said. "So you're saying Sam's not strong enough." (y/n) said, questionably. "He's angry, he's self-righteous. Lucifer's gonna wear him to the prom, (y/n). It's just a matter of time." Dean said.

(Y/n) shakes her head at this. "Don't say that. Not you...of all people. I mean, this is your own brother!" (Y/n) said, tearfully. "I don't want to. But it's the truth. And when Satan takes him over, there's got to be somebody there to fight him, and it ain't gonna be that kid. So, it's got to be me." Dean said.

"Dean, c'mon..." (y/n) said. "Well, what else you want me to say, (y/n)!" Dean shouts at her. “I want you to say you’re not going to leave!” (Y/n) shouted back and Dean stares at her. “The Dean I know would never agree to heaven’s plans. Never agree to be possessed by some dick archangel and fight Sam to the death.” (Y/n) said, getting angry.

Dean stares at her for a moment, then looks down. “I guess that Dean is long gone.” He mutters. (Y/n) looks at him, her eyes watering up a little. “I miss him.” She whispered and Dean nods, continuing to look at the ground.

That night, Adam was laying on the cot, asleep, and Castiel and Ariel watch him closely while Bobby and Sam sit in the living room area. At that point, they hear the basement door open and they turn their heads to see (y/n) coming in. "How's he doing?" Bobby asked and (y/n) shrugs and scoffs.

"How you doing?" Sam asked her and she nods slightly. Castiel and Ariel turn and walk to the basement door, heading downstairs. "I could be better." She sighs and takes a seat next to Sam. "Did he say anything? Like why he's suddenly changing his mind on this?" Sam asked her and she gives him a sympathetic look.

"He did but...I don't think you're gonna like what he said." She said and Sam's face turns serious. "What did he say?" He asked and (y/n) swallows before she goes to say what Dean said.

Meanwhile, Castiel and Ariel make their way down stairs when they heard a crash and the duo go to the panic room door. "Dean?" Cas calls out but no answer then they enter the room. "Dean?" Ariel calls out. "Cas. Ariel." Dean said as he stands by a cabinet with an angel banishing sigil drawn on the inside of it.

He presses his hand to it, sending Castiel and Ariel away screaming, then Dean escapes.

*(y/n)'s POV*

Sam and I went down to the basement to check on Dean, Castiel and Ariel only to discover the panic room was open and a angel banishing sigil was painted on the locker door. We ran back upstairs to the library, grabbing our jackets.

"Where's Cas and Ariel?" Bobby asked. "Blown to Oz." Sam replied. "Look, we'll get Dean. He couldn't have gone too far. Just watch Adam." I said. "How? You may have noticed, he's got a slight height advantage." Bobby said. "Then cuff him to your chair. I don't know. Just watch him." I said and we leave to look for Dean.

Unfortunately, we were unable to find him, so we return to Bobby's where he told us Adam was gone. "Bobby, what do you mean, Adam is gone?" Sam asked him. "Should I say it in Spanish?" Bobby asked, sarcastically. "He's gone how? What the hell, Bobby?!" I asked, spreading my arms out in frustration. "Watch your tone, girl. He was right in front of me, and he disappeared into thin air." Bobby said.

There was a gust of wind follow by the sound of flapping wings and Castiel and Ariel appear carrying a bloody and battered Dean between them as paper falls down around them. "Because the angels took him." Castiel said.

"Oh God, what the hell happened to him?" I asked as I run to Dean and cup his face. Despite that he broke my heart, I do still care about him. "Us." Ariel replied as she gestures between her and Cas.

"What do you mean, the angels took Adam? You branded his ribs, didn't you?" Bobby asked as he looks over at Cas. "Yes. Adam must have tipped them." Castiel said. "How?" Bobby asked. "I don't know. Maybe in a dream." Castiel said. "Well, where would they have taken him?" Sam asked.

We take Dean back down to the panic room where we handcuffe him to a cot. Sam and I sit down and wait for Dean to wake. When he did, he jerk on the handcuff discovering his situation and turn his head to see us.

"How you feeling?" Sam asked as Dean sits up on the cot. "Word to the wise: don't piss off the nerd angels. So how's it going?" Dean asked. "Adam's gone. The angels have him." Sam said. "Where?" Dean asked.

"The room where they took us." I replied, remembering Zachariah kidnapping me and placing me in that room just because I was looking for Sam. "You sure?" Dean asked. "Cas did a re-con." I said. "And?" Dean asked. "And the place is crawling with mooks...Pretty much a no-shot-in-hell, hail-Mary kind of thing." Sam said. "Ah, so the usual. What are you guys going to do?" Dean asked.

"For starters...we're bringing you with." Sam said, getting up and walking over to Dean. "Excuse me?" Dean asked, confused. "There are too many of them. We can't do it alone. And uh, you're pretty much the only game in town." I said, unlocking Dean's handcuffs and releasing him. I walk back over to Sam and toss the key on the desk. "Isn't that a bad idea?" Dean asked.

"Cas, Ariel and Bobby think so. We're not so sure." Sam said, nodding between me and him. "Well, they're right. Because either it's a trap to get me there to make me say yes, or it's not a trap and I'm gonna say yes anyway. And I will. I'll do it. Fair warning." Dean said. "No, you won't. When push shoves, you'll make the right call." Sam said. "You know, if tables were turned...I'd let you rot in here. Hell, I have let you rot in here." Dean said.

"Yeah, well...I guess I'm not that smart." Sam said. "I-I don't get it. Guys, why are you doing this?" Dean asked us, confused. "Because...you're still my big brother." Sam replied. Dean stared at him stunned, then looks over at me. "Even though, you can be an ass sometimes, I still care about you." I said, bitterly, as I fold my arms and Dean gives me a look that I could see is full regret then he looks down.

Cas and Ariel palce us outside to what looked like an abandoned warehouse. "Where the hell are we?" Dean asked. "Van Nuys, California." Castiel asked. "Where's the beautiful room?" I asked. "In there." Castiel said as he nods to the warehouse. "The beautiful room is in an abandoned muffler factory in Van Nuys, California?" Dean asked. "Where'd you think it was?" Castiel asked. "I-I don't know. Jupiter? A blade of grass? Not Van Nuys." Dean said. "I thought it was some dining room in Heaven." I said and Ariel chuckles and shakes her head.

"Tell me again why you two don't just grab Adam and shazam the hell out of there." Sam said to Castiel. "Because there are at least five angels in there." Ariel replied. "So? You guys are fast." I said. "They're faster." Castiel said, undoing his tie to take it off and wrap it around his palm. "Ariel and I'll clear them out. You three grab the boy. This is our only chance." He said as he and Ariel turn towards the door of the warehouse.

"Whoa, wait. You two gonna take on five angels?" Dean asked. "Yes." Castiel and Ariel replied. "Isn't that suicide?" Dean asked. "Maybe it is. But then I won't have to watch you fail. I'm sorry, Dean. I don't have the same faith in you that Sam and (y/n) does." Castiel said and a tinge of regret passes over Dean's face. "I used to but....I'm not so sure now." Ariel said as Castiel pulls a box cutter out of his trench-coat pocket.

"What the hell are you gonna do with that?" I asked him and Castiel hands Ariel the box cutter. The two share a look before Cas nods at her and she uses the box cutter to carve an angel-banishing sigil into his chest. Then the two go inside the warehouse.

We waited outside until we heard the sound of angels being banished, which was a pretty good sign that we can go in now. Dean went on in ahead and after a while Sam and I enter the warehouse.

On our way to the box in the center of warehouse, we found saw one slain angel on a floor and an angel blade with blood on it. I pick up the blade and we enter the room, seeing Dean holding Adam up with Zachariah in front of them.

"Dean, please. Did you really think it would be that easy?" Zachariah asked. "Did you?" Dean asked. Sam and I came at Zachariah from behind with our angel blades. But Zachariah knock out blades out of our hands and sent us flying across the room, crashing into a divider.

"Sam! (Y/n)!" Dean yelled. "You know what I've learned from this experience, Dean? Patience." Zachariah said. He waves his hand and Adam falls to the floor, coughing up blood. "Adam?" Dean said, concerned, then he turns to Zachariah. "Let him go, you son of a bitch." Dean growled.

"I mean, I thought I was downsized for sure. And for us, a firing...pretty damn literal. But I should have trusted the boss man. It's all playing out like he said...You, me, your hemorrhaging brothers." Zachariah said. He turns his fist in our direction, causing Sam to cough up blood like Adam.

"Sam?" I said, worried, as I place my hands on his shoulders. "You're finally ready, right?" Zachariah asked. Dean looks from Zachariah to Sam and I, then to Adam who was lying on the floor, still coughing up blood. "Okay then..."Zachariah said then his raises his left hand out and, suddenly, it was like his hand was a magnet and I was a piece of metal as I fly towards him and Zachariah grabs my neck.

Then he proceeds to squeeze my neck, making me gasp for air. "No! Let her go! Leave her alone!" Dean yells, fearfully. "You know there's no other choice. There's never been a choice." Zachariah said. "Stop it. Stop it right now!" Dean said, tearfully. "In exchange for what?" Zachariah asked as he squeezes my neck tighter and at this point I was gasping for air while Sam and Adam continue to cough up blood.

"Damn it, Zachariah. Stop it, please. I'll do it." Dean said and Zachariah loosens his grip on my neck and I was able to breath a bit better. "I'm sorry. What was that?" Zachariah asked, holding his right hand up to his ear. "Dean...don't..." I gasped out in a raspy voice.

"Okay, yes. The answer is yes." Dean said. "Dean." Sam said, painful. "Please...don't." I said but Dean continues. "Do you hear me? Call Michael down, you bastard!" Dean exclaimed and Zachariah lowers me down as he continues to stare at Dean, shocked.

"How do I know you're not lying?" Zachariah asked him. "Do I look like I'm lying?" Dean asked. Zachariah stares at him for a moment then tosses me aside and I fall on my side then cough and gasp for air. "(Y/n)..." I hear Sam said as he crawls over to me and gives me a look that asks Are you okay? I nod to him as I cough again and Zachariah turns and speaks in Enochian, summoning the archangel Michael. "Zodiredo...noco...aberamage...nazodpesade..."

Sam and I give Dean, a questioning look while Dean looks at us, brokenly. "He's coming." Zachariah said, smiling. At that moment, Dean then smirks and winks at us and I furrow my brow, in confusion, at him. The room started shaking, causing the chandelier to chime.

"Of course, I have a few conditions." Dean said and Zachariah turn to look at him. "What?" He asked, confused. "The few people whose safety you have to guarantee before I say yes." Dean said. "Sure, fine. Make a list." Zachariah said. "But most of all...Michael can't have me until he disintegrates you." Dean said.

"What did you say?" Zachariah asked. "I said...before Michael gets one piece of this sweet ass...he has to turn you into a piece of charcoal." Dean said and Zachariah laughs. "You really think Michael's gonna go for that?" He asked.

"Who's more important to him now? You...or me?" Dean asked then Zachariah lunges at Dean, grabbing him by the front of his jacket. "You listen to me. You are nothing but a maggot inside a worm's ass. Do you know who I am...after I deliver you to Michael?" He asked. "Expendable." Dean replied, smugly. "Michael's not gonna kill me." Zachariah said, grinning. "Maybe not. But I am." Dean said then he stabs an angel blade, which he must've had hidden in his sleeve, into Zachariah's head through his chin.

Zachariah explodes into a bright light causing Dean to fall to the ground and then Zachariah lays on the ground, dead, with his wings burned onto the floor and wall.

White light and the ear-piercing noise that was getting louder indicated to us that Michael was coming. "Can you walk?" Dean asked Adam, helping him up. "Yeah." Adam replied. "Okay, come on." Dean said, running over to Sam and I. Dean helped us up and guided us to the door.

"Come on, move it!" Dean said to Adam, as we exit the room. The door slams shut behind us, leaving Adam locked inside. "NO! DEAN! HELP! IT WON'T OPEN!" Adam shouts and Dean leaves me and Sam on the ground and attempts to open the door from the outside but he is burned when he touches the knob.

"DEAN, HELP! DEAN!" Adam continued screaming. "Hold on! We'll get you out. Just hold on. Adam! Can you hear me?!" Dean asked but Adam doesn't respond. A bright white light illuminates from inside the room then it fades.

Dean test the doorknob then opens the door to find it an abandoned office. "Adam?" He called out, but he was gone. Dean looks around then looks over at Sam and I, lost for words.

Later, we steal a truck and were driving down a road at night. Dean was driving naturally, while Sam was in the passenger seat and I was stuck sitting in the middle between them. "You think Adam's okay?" Sam asked while I rubbed my neck. "Doubt it. Cas and Ariel either. But we'll get 'em." Dean said.

"So." I said, my voice still sounding a bit hoarse. "'So' what?" Dean asked. "I saw your eyes. You were totally rockin' the yes back there. So, what changed your mind?" I asked. "Honestly? The damnedest thing. I mean, the world's ending. The walls are coming down on us, and I look over to you two and all I can think about is, these stupid son of bitches brought me here. I just didn't want to let either of you down." Dean said and I scoff, lightly.

"You almost did. But you didn't." Sam said, holding up his index finger. "Who are you calling stupid?" I asked and I see the corner of his lips twitch up. "I owe you guys an apology." Dean said. "No, man. No, you don't." Sam said.

"Just...let me say this. I don't know if it's being a big brother or what, but to me, you've always been this snot-nosed kid that I've had to keep on the straight and narrow. That goes for you as well, princess. I think we all know that that's not either of you anymore. I mean, hell, if you two are grown-up enough to find faith in me...the least I can do is return the favor. So screw destiny, right in the face. I say we take the fight to them, and do it our way." Dean said, firmly.

Sam and I smile confidently at Dean. "Sounds good." Sam said. "I'm always down to kick some ass." I said. Dean glances over at us and smirks.

Later, we made a stop to one of my safehouses, not the one Dean abandoned me at, and decided to rest there. But while the boys were asleep in the spare rooms, I was sitting out on the porch on the swing. I couldn't sleep so I decided to come out here and just look out at the beautiful view in front of me.

Just a large valley of green grass and some hills off in the distance, the inky starry night blankets the sky and the gentle cool breeze blowing through the air. I smile and take a sip of my bottle water when I hear footsteps and the door open.

I look over and see it was Dean. The two of us stare at each, an awkward silence loomed over us. "Hey..." he greets, softly. "Hey.." I said back, my voice sounding back to normal. "How's, uh...How's your neck?" Dean asked me and I rub it. "Well, besides having this handprint shaped mark on my neck for awhile, it's alright." I said and Dean nods.

"Which means I'm probably gonna have to wear a turtle neck sweatshirt to cover it up. And that sucks, I hate turtlenecks, they make my neck look fat." I said and Dean chuckles a bit. I smile alittle before I let out a sigh. Then Dean walks up to me and gestures to the spot on the swing next to me. "Is it okay, if I sit here?" He asked me. I nodded and he takes the spot and both of us sit there in silence for a moment, the awkward silence still looming over us.

"So..." He said.

"So..." I said, awkwardly, and we sit there for a moment then Dean sighs. "(Y/n), I am so, so, sorry for what I did..." he said and I close my eyes, hoping that'll keep any upcoming tears flowing, as I continue to listen to him. "It was a dick thing to do to you but I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted to protect you and keep you away from the chaos that was going to happen." He said and I nod, slightly.

"But Ariel was right. I was being selfish and I took that choice away from you and I should've talked to you about it. I was being an idiot and a coward." He said and I open my eyes and turn to him. "You said it not me." I said, smiling a little, as he rolls his eyes at this. But he looks over at me and noticed me smiling and he gives a small smile before it fades.

"I-I know you put up alot with me and with everything going on, but I do want to say I am truly sorry about everything. And...if..." he stops and sighs, sounding like he was nervous on to say his next words. "I'd understand if you didn't want to be with me or around me again...so...if you want to leave, you can. I won't stop you." He said and I frown a bit at him as I notice his eyes were filling with tears.

"Dean..." I croaked then I felt tears building up in my eyes. I close them again and take in a deep breath then let it out, slowly, then I open my eyes again. "I'm not abandoning you. Like I said, I'm ready to kick this in the ass and help you boys any way that I can. But...us...I mean..." I said as I gesture between me and him. "What you did really hurt me and I was scared, confused, hurt and angry. I felt like the world had already collapsed." I explained and he nods, slightly, as some tears roll down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, tearfully. "I know you are, Dean. And I do appreciate your apology. But..." I said and I could see the look of fear on his face. "I-I need time to think about us. I think...for now at least...we need a break. So, I'll still be by your side its just...I'm gonna be getting my own room for awhile now." I said and he nods again. "Okay..." he whispered.

*3rd Person POV*

"I'm gonna go to bed." (Y/n) said and Dean nods. "Okay, I'll be in here in a minute." Dean said and (y/n) gives him a look before she nods and heads inside. Now all alone, Dean wipes away the tears then hunches over, places his hands over his head and let's out a heavy, shaky sigh.

"You stupid son of a bitch." He mutters to himself, berating himself. "You really screwed up now." Dean mutters and he runs his hands over his head back and forth. Then he sits up and looks out at nature view he has as fresh tears runs down his face. He wipes them away and huffs out a breath.

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