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fangirlingtodeath513 · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 1 - First Time

Read here on AO3 Rating: Explicit Ships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Smut, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time Having Sex, First Time, Anal Fingering, Grinding, Dirty Talk, Kinktober, Anal Sex, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Post-Finale, Post-Season/Series Finale

Dean’s hands are clammy. He knew this was the endgame of the night, obviously, and he’s been looking forward to it for like a week now, but it’s surreal. He’s actually nervous. He can’t remember the last time he was nervous for sex. Then again, he also can’t remember the last time he had sex with someone he genuinely cared about.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Castiel’s hand settles on his thigh. Fuck, even the sound of his voice is like a balm to Dean’s overactive mind. It brings a small smile to his lips and, before he can rethink it, he lifts Cas’s hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“I’m great. Better than great, actually. Can’t remember ever being this happy.”

Cas practically beams at that, and Dean can feel his heart beating faster. It’s hard to focus on driving when he feels like he could die from happiness, but he somehow manages to get them back to the little rental they booked for the weekend in one piece.

They deserve this. Hell, they deserve way more than this, but this is a start. The cabin is cute enough, with a hot tub on the back porch and a four-poster, king-size bed. They’d gotten here last night, but after a day spent in the car, they were both too exhausted to do much more than dump their bags on the floor and collapse into bed. Cas had woken up with some unfairly hot bedhead, but Dean had a plan for this weekend, and he wasn’t about to let it be ruined by some messy hair.

He releases Cas’s hand only long enough for them to both climb out of the car, quickly sliding his fingers between the former angel’s as they make their way up the porch. He revels in the tiny smile it brings to Cas’s lips.

“How are we doing on the whole “human for the second time around” thing? So far, at least.”

Castiel chuckles. “Well, I haven’t been murdered by a reaper yet.”

Dean huffs a laugh and punches the code into the lock on the door. “Yeah, I guess the bar was already pretty low.”

Castiel hums softly as Dean turns to close the door behind them, locking it and sucking in a deep breath. It doesn’t do much to calm his nerves.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asks softly, resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t… want to.”

Dean scoffs. “No, I want to, Cas. I promise.” He takes another deep breath before turning to face Castiel. His eyebrows are pinched like he’s nervous Dean might reject him. He wonders how often Castiel worries about that. “You sure you want to?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “Am I sure that I want to finally have you underneath me after being in love with you for more years than I care to admit? Yes, I think so.”

Dean can feel the tips of his ears burning, so he doesn’t even want to imagine what his face looks like. “In love with, huh?” he asks, a stupid grin on his face.

Castiel rolls his eyes, but he smiles back as he leans in to draw Dean into a kiss. “Yes, Dean, I’m positive. Now are you going to stop stalling and come with me to the bedroom, or should I get started without you?”

Dean gapes at him. “Start without me? Now hang on a minute…”

Castiel shoots him a grin as he backs down the hallway toward the bedroom. Little fucker. He knows exactly how to push Dean’s buttons. It’s stupidly hot.

They both shed their layers on the way to the bedroom until they’re left barefoot, in their t-shirts and jeans. Dean pulls him into a kiss, winding his arms around Cas’s waist. They’ve done plenty of this since Castiel came back from the empty, blessedly alive and fully human. It had been an awkward few moments, considering Dean had shoved him against the nearest wall and made up for the decade they could have spent kissing if they hadn’t been such idiots. Sam had uncomfortably cleared his throat more than a few times, and god only knows what Jack was thinking, but Dean couldn’t find it in himself to care. He had his angel back, that was all that mattered.

He only pulls away long enough to tug Castiel’s shirt over his head, dropping it somewhere behind them and nudging Cas to sit on the bed. He shamelessly climbs onto his lap, threading a hand through his hair as he kisses and sucks his way down the former angel’s neck. Castiel’s hands are everywhere, roaming over every inch of Dean’s skin that he can reach. They finally settle on Dean’s thighs, holding him close as Cas draws him into another kiss. This one is filthy, all tongue, Castiel’s teeth scraping against Dean’s bottom lip. It drives Dean just a little bit insane, and it seems like Cas can tell since he does it again with a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Do you like that, Dean?” he murmurs, his voice distractingly deep and warm, rumbling against Dean’s chest as he laughs. “I’ve dreamed about this for so long. Watching you let go for me.”

Dean shivers, blinking a few times to regain some semblance of composure as he lets Castiel remove his shirt. He doesn’t even care where Castiel drops it, he’ll worry about finding it in the morning. It’s the least of his concerns right now, especially once he leans back long enough to take in the sight in front of him—Castiel, shirtless, chest heaving with a sheen of sweat and a smirk on his lips as he lets Dean drink in his fill.

“God, Cas,” he mutters, dragging a thumb over one of his nipples, noting the sharp intake of breath he gets in response. “You’re incredible.”

Castiel chuckles, the sound like a warm, fluffy blanket wrapping around Dean. “I could say the same about you, you know. You’re beautiful, Dean, and despite how much I’d love to sit here and stare at you—”

“So a normal night for you,” Dean interrupts with a smirk, laughing when Castiel rolls his eyes.

“As much as I’d love it, I’d much prefer to see how you feel around my cock.”

Dean swallows, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Wow, that was… way hotter than it should have been.”

Castiel laughs. “Is that a yes?”

Dean nods quickly, sliding off Castiel’s lap long enough to ditch his jeans and boxers. Castiel does the same, so when Dean climbs back into his lap they’re both blessedly naked. He lets himself bask in the moment, pulling Castiel into a kiss as he rocks his ass along the length of Castiel’s hardness, sucking in a shuddering breath. It’s been a damn long time since he’s had anything other than a toy inside him and as much as he’d like to rush the process, he doesn’t want Castiel’s first time with him to be anything less than perfect. So he takes his time, getting them both wound so tightly they could snap before he even reaches for the bottle of lube he’d brought with them and, thankfully, stashed in the bedside table earlier.

Castiel snatches it from him with a wicked grin. “I’ve dreamt about this, too. May I?”

Dean swallows, nodding quickly. “Yeah, Cas, yeah, my god.” He shuffles off his lap, sprawling out on the bed and pulling Castiel on top of him. “Never wanted anything more in my life.”

Castiel pouts. Honest to god pouts. Dean feels like he could combust. “Not even me?”

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathes out, mostly to himself, tugging Castiel down into a kiss. “C’mon, want you inside me sooner than later.”

Castiel smirks. “Say please.”

Dean groans. “Please, Cas.”

He half expects a good boy thrown in there, but he doesn’t get one. Instead, he gets the click of the lube cap, so he leans up on his elbows to watch Castiel.

He’s gorgeous. His hair is a goddamn mess, his chest flushed a nice, warm red, and his eyes—they’ve got a wild look to them, but they’re so utterly focused on Dean that it makes his heart beat a little faster.

“Alright. You’re ready?”

He doesn’t think he has the strength to speak right now, so he just nods. Castiel shoots him a small smile and leans down to kiss him. He’s a fucking master with his tongue, so much so that Dean barely even registers his finger pushing into him. He groans against Castiel’s lips, letting his knees drop open even more, hopefully encouraging him to continue. Castiel seems to get the message, his tongue sliding into Dean’s mouth as a second finger splits him open. He’s effectively trapped between the sensations of Castiel’s tongue and fingers and there’s no place on Earth that he’d rather be.

Castiel breaks their kiss, and Dean just barely has the presence of mind to bite back a whine. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” Castiel asks softly, pressing a kiss to Dean’s jaw.

Dean shakes his head quickly, sucking in a breath and pulling Cas’s mouth back to his. “Mm mm. Feels good, Cas. Can’t wait to have you inside me. C’mon, I can handle another.”

He feels Castiel shiver against him and grins, grinding against his fingers. It takes a minute, but eventually, Cas shakes himself from his stupor and presses a third finger into him. It burns, but Dean is wound so tight that he doesn’t even care. He wants Castiel inside him as quickly as possible, and honestly, even the burn feels a little bit good.

Still, he gets impatient after a few minutes, the burn faded and the thought of Cas splitting him open much more enticing than his fingers. “Ready, Cas, quit teasing,” he manages to get out, eyes fluttering closed when his fingers rub against his prostate, sending a warm jolt through him. “Fuck, please, want you inside me when I come,” he babbles, mostly lost to the sensation of Castiel’s fingers stretching him open and his mouth exploring every inch of Dean’s hot, flushed skin. Castiel seems to gather how far gone he is because after a moment his fingers are gone, quickly replaced with the blunt head of his slippery cock.

“Tell me if I hurt you?” Castiel asks softly, brushing his fingers through Dean’s hair. Dean nods quickly, wrapping his legs around Cas’s waist. “Promise, now get in me.”

Castiel laughs, drawing Dean into a kiss as he pushes into him. Dean grunts, fingernails digging into Castiel’s shoulders. It burns, but he’s so damn close to coming that he doesn’t even care. He takes another breath, easing the burn a bit, and pulls Cas into another kiss. God, he could do this all day. Honestly, if they didn’t have other things to do, he just might. He adds that to the list of things he wants to try with Cas at some point, making a mental note to actually write that list down and give it to Cas sometime.

“Okay?” Castiel asks softly, kissing down Dean’s neck.

“Mmhm, fuck… so good, Cas,” he manages to reply, somewhat breathless as he finally bottoms out. “Can’t fuckin’ believe we could’ve been doing this all along,” he mutters, somewhat petulantly. Castiel laughs.

“Yes, well, hindsight is twenty-twenty, as they say. But we get to do it now.”

Dean hums, grinding against Castiel just a little bit. “Damn right we do. Several times tonight, at least, if I get my way,” he says with a smirk, though it quickly turns to a gasp when Castiel pumps his hips a little.

“It would be my absolute honor to take you apart all night long, Dean,” Castiel purrs, fucking purrs, and Dean thinks he could die of happiness right here. Wouldn’t be a bad way to go, given all the ways he thought he’d die.

“Too much talking, not enough fucking,” he gasps out instead, shivering when Castiel laughs. He expects some witty remark in return, but instead, Castiel just sits up and grabs Dean’s hips, pulling him into every thrust as he finds his rhythm. It’s punishing, and Dean’s almost certain he’s forgotten how to breathe, simply with the sight of Cas above him like his, hair a mess and a dark burn in his eyes.

“I want to hear you when you come for me, Dean. I want to hear every moan, every stutter in your breath, every curse. I want it.”

Dean gasps, eyes fluttering closed as Castiel’s words sink in. He considers being a brat for a moment, but only a moment, before he realizes he’d much rather give Castiel what he wants.

It doesn’t take long before he’s teetering on the edge of an orgasm, his grunts and muttered curses only seeming to spur Cas on. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the man still had the stamina of an angel, with how relentless his thrusts have been.

“C-Cas, fuck, I can’t… I’m gonna…” he manages to choke out, eyes squeezing shut as Castiel’s warm hand wraps around his cock. It only takes a few rough strokes before he’s completely gone, boneless as he comes over his own stomach. Castiel’s not far behind though, his hips slamming into Dean’s a few more times before he spills white hot inside Dean, his shaky breaths the only thing still grounding Dean to this reality.

They stay like that for a couple of minutes, catching their breath and blinking hazily at each other. Dean cracks first, a lazy grin on his lips as he pulls Castiel into a kiss.

“We really should have been doing that for the last decade.”

Castiel laughs and, yeah, that really is the best sound in the world.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #supernatural #my writing #kinktober 2023

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the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

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A Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler), Supernatural Crossover Fic by an Author Who Dislikes Both Shows

RakuenOkami

Summary:

Title says it all. Due to friend's obsessions, I ended up watching the 2nd season of Kuro and 5 seasons of Supernatural. This is what went through my mind. Probably my favorite thing I've ever written.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

"Uh, Sammie? Where in the hell are we?”

“Not where Dean, when. Well, where too. We’re in London, the late 1800’s judging by the clothing.”

“Don’t tell me this was back in the dark ages when everyone rode horses.”

“Cars, cheeseburgers, massaging beds, TV, pretty much your entire lifestyle hasn’t been invented yet.”

“Aw crap. How in the hell are we supposed to get back home? We’ve got bigger problems to deal with right now!”

“I heard Cas mention something about hunting demons before we woke up here.”

Dean sighed loudly. “Yeah, you’re right. He said there were six I think.”

“Well, at least we have the Colt.” Sam shrugged.

Dean pulled the gun out. “And you’ve got the knife that kills demons on you, right?” Sam nodded. “But without the Impala, that’s about all we’ve got going for us. No holy water, no research, no salt.”

“And no way to blend in.” Sam added. “At least finding a cross and salt shouldn’t be a problem around here.”

Within an hour, the brothers had managed to knock out a pair of commoners and stolen their clothes, as well as stealing a small cross from a church (now that’s racking up some good karma there) in addition to a canteen and salt out of a store.

“Now how do we find these demons?” Dean growled to Sam as the sasquatch finished turning the stream water they had filled the canteen with into holy water.

Sam shrugged. “Dunno. It’s a big place, and we can’t do any research, hell we can’t even talk to the people around here because we don’t have the right accent.”

“Can’t we just tell them the truth?”

“What?” Sam looked at his brother like the guy was crazy.

“Why can’t we just tell them we’re from America?”

Sam sighed with a smile. “Hey, you’re right. That works.”

So after a few hours of combing through the streets, the Winchesters had turned up… “Zlich.”

“Yeah and on top of that, everyone we talked to looked like they were going to call the cops on us.” Dean stretched his arms.

While they were standing there talking to each other, a fancy dressed boy and a man who was obviously his servant, walked into the shop behind them. “Dean, did you see his eyes?”

“So the kid had an eye missing, so what?” Dean shrugged.

“No, his servant. Red eyes.”

“Crossroads demon?”

“Probably.”

“So all we have to do is find the crossroads, summon it, trap it and shoot the damn thing with the Colt.”

“Just one problem with that, how do we summon it? All of our supplies are back in present day America. We don’t’ have the Impala, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Dean growled.

“We don’t have anything we need to summon the demon, and we have to draw the entrapment circle from memory.”

“Oh, yeah that could be difficult.”

Somehow the hunters managed to summon the demon that night, mostly due to the back alley witch they ran into. Only for these two could that be considered a good thing.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” A cold voice, smooth as silk, met the Winchesters as Dean stood up from burying the box. They turned around to see the same demon they had passed that afternoon.

“Well, you could say that…” Dean started.

“And if you wouldn’t mind hurrying this up, I was in the middle of preparing for tomorrow afternoon’s garden party.”

“This will only take a second of your time, buddy.” Dean couldn’t believe it, the demon just walked right into the circle, like the didn’t even notice it was there. Walking out, however, was obviously not so easy.

“What have you done? Release me.” The red-eyed demon looked like he honestly had no clue what was going on. Even as Dean pointed the Colt at his face, still the demon looked unconcerned. “Human weapons do no damage to one such as myself. Although I do ask you to refrain from damaging my clothes, as I will have to mend them.”

Dean shrugged. “Happy to oblige.”

“Wait.” Sam interrupted. “Maybe he knows where the other demons are.”

The red-eyed demon looked uninterested. “It’s none of my concern.”

“But you know, don’t you?” Sam held up the knife.

Still, the demon looked unconcerned. “If you’re suggesting torture, may I inform you that I myself am familiar with many different methods, and nothing you can do shall be of any consequence to me.”

A loud gunshot crack sounded through the night air. “Dean!” Sam yelled.

“What? He was pissing me off!” Sure enough, right between his eyes, the demon now had a nice new Colt bullet-hole, complementary of the Winchesters. There was something about the demon that Dean couldn’t stand, even more than his attitude. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but this demon made him think of Jason. Jason was the hotshot jock they met years ago, who prided himself on being able to get any woman he wanted into bed with him.

After the boys yelled at each other for a while, they took the demon’s dead body and salted and burned it as usual. The next morning found the Winchester brothers, sitting on the street corner, exhausted and still no closer to the other five demons.

“I’m starving.” Dean moaned.

“Yeah, well you’re not the only one who’s hungry around here, Dean.” Sam snarled back.

“You two are hungry? Would you like some curry?”

The boys looked up to see a young Indian offering them a bowl. Dean grabbed the bowl and with a ‘thanks’, started happily chowing down.

“Dude!” Sam yelled.

“What? I was gonna save you some.” Dean looked over at his brother with curry all over his face.

“He could be one of the demons for all we know.” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, well, he’s feeding me so right now I really don’t care.” Dean whispered back and continued to dig in.

“Here’s some for you too.” Another man handed a bowl to Sam, who accepted it with skepticism. The man obviously saw the mistrust in his eyes. “It’s good, you’ll like it, I promise.”

Even though his mind said no, his stomach just couldn’t agree when the wonderful smell reached Sam’s nose. He added a ‘thanks’ as he started eating as well.

Dean just nodded his agreement. “I’m guessing you two aren’t from around here.”

“Yes, and I’m assuming the same goes for the two of you.” The younger man, the one who fed Dean, smiled warmly.

“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty obvious we’re Americans, huh?” Dean handed him back the empty bowl.

“You came all this way to sit on the streets?”

“Well, it’s kind of complicated. We’ve been sent here to find someone.”

“What’s his name? Maybe we can help.”

“Well, you see, it’s actually several people, and we don’t know their names.”

“Dean!” Sam whispered in his brother’s ear.

“What? He fed us!”

“You sound like a lost dog.”

“We were on our way to visit some friends.” The younger man continued, ignoring the brother’s fight. “You’re welcome to come along if you want. He’s got a pretty big house, maybe you can convince him to let you stay for a while.”

The brother’s shrugged. At the very least, maybe this friend he mentioned could provide them with a clue to the whereabouts of the other demons. “By the way, I’m Dean, this is my brother Sam.”

“I’m Soma Asman Kadar. And this is my kahnsama, Agni.”

Dean stood up to follow. “Um, gesundheit?”

“I’m master Soma’s servant.” Agni smiled warmly, offering Sam a hand up, an offer which Sam declined.

Following Soma and Agni, it didn’t take the Winchester brothers too long to reach this house. Dean was clearly impressed. “Holy crap! You weren’t kidding when you said your friend had a large house!”

“This is the Phantomhive estate.” Agni explained. “Master Soma’s friend is the earl Phantomhive.”

“Ciel!” Soma barged in the front door with a goofy smile.

The inside of the house looked like a disaster zone. Broken dishes lined the room, every piece of furniture was chipped if not completely smashed, and the smell of something burning wafted in from the other room.

“What a dump.” Dean whispered to Sam.

Soma looked about as confused as the Winchesters. “Hey, Finneon,” he called out to the guy running past. “What in the world is going on here?”

“Mister Sebastian went missing last night. He didn’t leave a note, or tell master Ciel or anything. The whole place has been in an uproar since we got up this morning.”

“Sebastian’s missing?” Agni asked.

The passing servant nodded. Sam and Dean just stood there feeling like the access baggage.

“Where’s Ciel?” Soma asked.

“In his study.” Finneon nodded back. “But he’s really stressed out, I wouldn’t bother him right now.”

Soma waved off this advice and paraded into the study anyway.

This ‘Ciel’ guy turned out to be the same kid that had walked into the shop with the demon yesterday. Both brothers let out a ‘dude’ in surprise and kept their traps shut. Something was very different.

“Hey Ciel, woah, your eye…”

Ciel looked up at Soma with a death glare. The eye patch he had been wearing the day before was gone. “Today’s not a good time Soma. Go away.”

“But Ciel, aren’t you having a tea party today?” Soma protested.

“No, it’s been canceled. Now get out!”

Less than a minute later, Soma, Agni, Sam and Dean found themselves almost literally kicked out the front door of the Phantomhive mansion.

“Dude, did you see that kid’s eye?” Sam whispered to his brother.

“Yeah, what are you willing to bet that kid held a contract with that red-eyed freak?” Dean whispered back.

“So we probably just saved that kid’s life.”

Dean rubbed his back from where he had landed on it. “And the brat literally kicks us out the door as a ‘thank you’.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. “Whatever. At least we’re a step closer to getting back home.”

“Yeah but we’re still not even sure where to look for the other demons. I mean, we don’t even know…”

“Hey Sam, Dean, we’re going to visit another friend of mine.” Soma waved back. He had already started walking off down the road, Agni right behind him. Dean briefly wondered if you could call it a driveway before cars were invented. “Are you two coming?”

Dean shrugged to Sam, who stood up and called back to Soma, “Yeah, just moving a little slow.”

After a while of walking, they arrived at this other friend’s house. The Winchesters’ mouths dropped open. This house was as big as the last one.

“Dude, are all your friends loaded, or what?” Dean stared over at Soma.

“Loaded?” Soma looked confused.

“Filthy rich.” Sam explained.

“I don’t think they’re dirty, but yeah, both of them have a lot of money.” Soma still looked confused, but trotted up and knocked on the door.

“Oh hell.” Dean growled quietly to Sam. “We’re trapped in a world without slang.”

Entering this house was totally different from the Phantomhive mansion. For starters, a stern butler greeted them at the door. “Can I help you?”

Soma jumped back a bit at the man’s cold tone, as did the Winchesters, though for another reason. Soma, however, being Soma, quickly regained his composure. “I’m here to see the Earl Trancy.”

“Do you have an appointment?” the butler continued to look un-amused.

“No.” Soma let himself into the house, unconcerned by the butler’s slight glare at this. Agni and the Winchesters followed quietly.

“Alois!” Soma burst into a study for the second time that day. This boy couldn’t have appeared more different from the last one. At first, he wore an expression of such extreme boredom that Dean found himself impressed, but as the odd group piled into the study, his face brightened.

“Soma! It’s great to see you. I’ve been so bored lately, we should go do something exciting.”

“I saw this cool bakery the other day, we should go try it out.” Soma beamed back. Both of the Winchesters, at one point or another during this experience, found themselves wondering if anything ever dampened this guy’s day.

“Sounds awesome!” Alois beamed back.

“May I remind the young master that there is something on his schedule for this afternoon?” The creepy butler seemed to appear out of nowhere behind the energetic boys. This startled Soma, but Alois didn’t even seem to notice.

“So what?” Alois brushed it off, while the butler continued to hover over his shoulder with an impatient look.

Dean felt the need to whisper his thoughts to Sam. “Dude what a creeper.”

Alois seemed to just then notice that the Winchesters were new faces. “Hey, are these guys friends of yours, Soma?”

“Yeah, this is Sam, and that’s Dean.” The brothers waved awkwardly. “They’re from America.” Soma declared proudly.

“You just meet new friends all over the place, don’t you?” Alois smiled.

Soma beamed back. “Then shall we go?”

“Actually, we’re kinda tired.” Sam started.

Dean quickly jumped in. “Is there any way we could stay here and take a quick nap?”

Alois shrugged. “If you want. Claude,” he addressed the creepy yellow-eyed butler. “Show them to a guest room.”

“Yes, your highness.” The butler bowed.

At that moment, Dean’s stomach growled loudly. “Dude, seriously?” Sam looked disapprovingly at his brother.

“I can’t help it, I’m still hungry.” Dean growled quietly back.

“And bring them some dinner too.” Alois added.

“I like this kid.” Dean smiled.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You like anyone who feeds you.”

“We should be back fairly soon.” Soma waved as he, Agni and Alois headed out the door for cake. While they were waving and smiling, Dean noticed something odd. The brothers had to deal with a most awkward trip down the hallways behind the stern butler before Dean could bring his observation to Sam’s attention.

“I shall be back in a few minutes with dinner.” The butler bowed politely before leaving the Winchesters alone in their room.

Dean instantly turned to Sam, who was already digging through their supplies. “Dude, did you see that kid’s tongue?”

“No.” Sam commented with disinterest. “Did you see the butler’s eyes?”

“Yeah, but he’s not Azazel.”

“So there are two yellow-eyed freaks?”

Dean shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Now what was that about the kid’s tongue?” Sam looked to his brother with holy water at the ready.

“There was a pentagram on it.”

“A pentagram?”

“Yeah, like uh,” Dean looked around the room and grabbed a pen and paper. Being a quill pen and Dean’s art skills, the pentagram he drew didn’t exactly look perfect, but it was legible at least. “Like that.”

“I’ve seen that symbol somewhere before…” Sam looked pensive for a moment. “I think it was somehow involved in one type of demon contract. Maybe the demons here in Europe are a little different from the ones back home.” Sam suggested. “So that means we’ll probably be saving that kid too when we kill whatever red-eyed freak holds his contract.”

“Yeah, and this kid said he’d feed us instead of kicking us out the door.” Dean cocked the Colt and waited for the demon to return.

Just like clockwork, the demon came back, still unsuspecting of the brothers’ plan. Sam made short work of him thanks to the knife.

“Well, now that we’ve taken out Mr. Pretty and Creeper here, how do we find the other demons?” Dean turned to Sam.

“We start with the other crossroads demon that formed the contract with the kid. Considering that the first two demons we’ve had to deal with were posing as butlers, I’d bet the next red-eyes is around here somewhere. Probably posing as a worker here.” Sam suggested.

“Better find those last four demons and get home soon. Just because we’re in the dark ages of England doesn’t mean they won’t book us for murder.”

“This isn’t the dark ages, Dean.” Sam sighed quietly. “Hey, see that guy out in the garden?”

“What?” Dean growled, dropping the demon’s body he had been busy dragging out of the room to salt and burn. He came over to look out the window too. Sure enough, there was a red-eyed man working with the roses.

“Problem solved.” Sam smiled.

The brothers quickly made their way to the garden and got ready to take out the unsuspecting demon. Just as the shot left Dean’s gun, two more identical demons jumped on him and Sam. Dean yelled out, “Holy crap!” in his surprise as both he and Sam had to fight for their lives. After a frantic struggle, each brother was able to take out their demon opponent.

“There’s three of them?” Sam panted.

“Not anymore.” Dean looked over at the first red-eyed demon Sam had seen in the garden, thankful the bullet had hit it’s mark.

“I wonder which one held the contract.”

“Doesn’t really matter, they’re all dead now. I vote we salt ‘em and burn ‘em, then get the hell out of here.” Dean had already started dragging the demon bodies into a pile that would be safe for burning, while Sam retrieved the body upstairs.

Without lighter fluid, the boys started the fire using a bit of paper they found and the lighter from Dean’s pocket. Needless to say, it was slow going. “Now that we’ve taken out the hive mind here, there should be only one more demon left, right?”

“Should be.” Sam sighed. It had been a long day and they were both really tired. “Oh crap…”

“What?” Dean turned around to look at whatever held Sam’s attention. There she was, a beautiful woman in a maid outfit, staring right at the burning bodies, a look of surprise on her face. “It’s, uh, not what it looks like…” Dean started, staring at her huge breasts more than her face.

Sam splashed holy water on her, which caused her to scream.

“Oh come on!” Dean growled.

“Dude, since when do you have a maid fetish?” Sam yelled.

“I don’t! She’s just got huge boobs.” Dean growled, realizing too late that the demon had vanished. “Crap.”

The Winchesters began looking for the demon. “What would you have done if that she was a normal maid?”

“Well, she already saw us burning the bodies, so we were pretty much screwed anyway.” Sam shrugged.

It didn’t take them long to find her. She proved the most difficult demon for them to kill. She jumped down on them from the ceiling, only somehow she had acquired a very large and impressive sword. Sam held the sword off with the knife. “Dean, shoot her!”

“But,”

It took him too long. Sam was able to fend off the giant sword and kill the demon with his knife before Dean could finish his sentence.

Sam just shook his head at his brother. “So psycho-bitch here makes all six demons.”

“Wonder where the sword came from.” Dean thought aloud.

“We should take it back and ask Bobby.” Sam picked up the weapon in question. “Maybe this is what Cas sent us here for.” Suddenly, Sam and Dean found themselves in a totally different setting.

The hallway they were now standing in was filled with strange people in all kinds of freaky costumes. “OK, when and where in the hell are we this time!?” Dean snarled.

“I think, it’s a convention. An anime convention.” Sam sighed.

“A guy in a skirt nodded to them. “Nice ‘Supernatural’ cosplay.”

Dean just blinked. “Should I be insulted, or just floored?”

Before Sam could comment, a girl’s voice rang out. More like screeched, actually. “It’s the bastard who killed Sebby!”

Another screech came right after the first. “And the other one killed Claude!”

Both boys quickly found themselves being chased by a mob of fangirls. Three girls were nice enough to hold the front doors open for the Winchester’s escape.

As Sam and Dean tore off into the parking lot, one of the girls (wearing an American flag on her head), gave an excited squeal and took off after ‘her boys’. The second cosplayer (this one wearing a white fur on her back) pointed to Sam and Dean. “I’m gonna go keep them from getting mauled by fangirls.” She paused for a moment. “Wait, didn’t they…”

The third girl just tipped the cowboy hat on her head. “Don’t know and have no opinion.”

The End.

Notes:

#black butler fanfiction

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

Text

baby blue- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, tony stark bruce banner, steve rogers, sam wilson warnings: child bucky, language, this is long. why is this so long about: requested by @cherry-season (apparently can't tag you)! bucky turns into a baby/toddler and is clingy a/n: okay so i know virtually nothing about three-year-olds. can you tell? thank you so much for requesting!! I had so much fun writing this <333

[@tylard-blog1]

bucky’s day wasn’t particularly fantastic to begin with.

he was already exhausted when he woke up in the early lights of the morning, his nightmares had kept him up all night-- which you theorized was due to the mission the day before that took place in one of the same hydra bases bucky had been held in. you had frowned when you realized it the day of, turning your attention to bucky and making sure he was okay with it because if he wasn’t, you would make sure someone else took care of it. he had insisted it was fine, even though the next night proved him wrong. you had done what you could, running your fingers through his hair and humming lightly until you fell asleep and he refused to wake you up, resigning himself to a sleepless night.

his morning started with his flesh arm reaching out to feel your side of the bed, hoping to find your soft, warm skin to pull you closer, but instead being met with the unkind sheets that missed the gentleness of your body. he had frowned when he realized you had already left for a meeting with some important hotshot in space with carol (you couldn’t find a better excuse to go get breakfast at your favorite alien restaurant with your favorite aliens) and wouldn’t be back for a solid few hours too long. groaning, and with no real reason to stay in bed for any longer without the excuse of getting to feel you for a few more hours, he dragged himself out of bed.

it didn’t get much better from there, because he was greeted with the sight of sam eating the last bowl of the last box of cereal in the whole damn tower because everyone rejected to go grocery shopping. since bucky refused to eat any of the frozen breakfasts tony loved so much and the stark kid swore were “the best thing ever,” he grunted at sam and walked away without eating, knowing he’d regret it later when his stomach would growl and you would immediately know he skipped breakfast.

for some unknown reason, tony had found out about bucky’s lack of things to do, and with a few winks and manipulative large-worded engineering phrases, convinced him to join him in the lab, which bucky had only really been able to see through the clear glass that separated the lab from the rest of the tower, and from the occasions where he would take food and drinks to you while you locked yourself away inside, building something alongside tony.

being inside, so close to the various machines and objects bucky cant begin to figure out the purpose of, his memories of being in school and at the top of his math and engineering classes bubble to the surface, filling him with the pride he remembers having every day at school. the thought that he could probably understand everything if you or tony explained it to him passes through his mind and urges him to ask tony to do just that, but tony beats him before he can get the chance.

bruce is eyeing them wearily from the other side of the lab, attention mostly on the test tubes in front of him. he gives bucky a smile when he comes in, but seems to ignore him for the most part until tony shows bucky to bruce’s work station, pointing out a blue liquid in a test tube marked TESTING. bruce’s neck snaps to them when tony open his big mouth, “you know, y/n was actually supposed to test something out for me today,” tony begins innocently, a suggestion laced in his words that bucky catches but decides to ignore because of the high he feels from understanding the equations scribbled on the clear glass, “do you know where she is?”

bucky narrows his eyes at him, then looks up at the clock, realizing it’s still a while before you get back, “not even on earth,” he recipes blandly, slyly sneaking a glance at the liquid for any indications of what it could be.

tony sighs dramatically, his shoulders sagging, “oh no, how do i test this now?” bruce shoots tony a warning glance that is blatantly ignored.

bucky’s shrugging before he can help it, the reminder that since you were going to do it, what could be the harm if he did? “i could do it.”

tony claps, “great!” he gestures to a door behind him, “please go in there to sign non-disclosure agreements and wash your hands.”

bucky’s shoved inside before he can fully understand the implications of his stupid offer.

the thought of asking the basic questions he should have asked before he agreed to test an unidentified liquid comes to bucky nearly an hour later, when the small vial of weird blue liquid sits in front of him, waiting to be drunk. tony and bruce sit in chairs a couple of feet away, clipboards in both of their hands, and interested expressions settled on their features.

“what does this do again?” he asks, squinting at the vial that he doesn’t notice tony isn’t looking at, furrowing his eyebrows when tony waves him off, “something super smart. no side effects or anything.” bucky’s eyes flit down to the little vial again, before they nearly bug out of his head at the humongous laser that is rolled into the room, “what the hell is that.”

“ah,” tony grins, bouncing from his seat to stand next to his invention proudly, “this is what you’re testing out.” bucky cocks his head at the man, “i thought i was drinking blue water. y/n was going to drink blue water.” tony shakes his head, adjusting some dials on the machine, “yeah, no, it was this. pretty sure i told you.”

“you didn’t-” bruce is looking at tony in concern, about to tell him to slow down so bucky has a chance to think all this through again and maybe ask if there is any chance the laser will melt him, when tony clicks a large red button and a bright white light clouds bucky’s vision just as he sees the clock on the exact same time he saw an hour ago, realizing the clock in the billion-dollar lab is broken, and you’re probably getting home any second.

“tony!” he hears bruce yell before his vision goes dark.

it’s only a second until he can pry open his eyes again, a hand curling into a fist, ready to pound stark into tomorrow when he can suddenly feel the nails of his hand digging into his palm. the surprising feeling of it where his vibranium arm should be forces him to look down at a small arm, fully skin and thin. he looks around, noticing his surroundings suddenly have grown very large around him, and the sound of his voice is higher when he tries to speak again.

“what the f-” he mumbles, cutting himself off when a sudden memory of his ma yelling at him to wash his mouth out if he wants to talk like that floods his mind, and he stares down at himself, eyebrows furrowing when he spots his short stature and the tiny hands and feet that look up at him. realization floods him like a wave, raising his chin at the two, tall, gobsmacked men in front of. “was that supposed to happen?” bruce asks quietly, nodding slowly when tony shakes his head, “no.”

there’s a light knock at the door, your hand pushing it open before anyone can stop you, and your tired face peeks in, a glowing smiling adorning your face and your eyes searching for your boyfriend, “hey, do you guys know where bucky is-” your voice cuts through the stunned silence, pausing when you catch the little boy’s eye. at first, you stare at him, your eyebrows pulling together as you get a good look at the familiar cerulean of his eyes and scan the clothing you’d seen on bucky before. for a second, everything is silent, bucky’s eyes are wide and staring as yours bore into them, searching for something you’re nearly touching until you gasp, “bucky?” you choke, reaching for him when he nods, his legs already trying to reach you as fast as they possibly can but they buckle. bucky realizes just then how old he must be now. “oh, baby,” you murmur, gathering him up in your arms before he can fall to the hard ground of the lab. “what the hell did you idiots do to my boyfriend?” you demand, turning to the two scientists who are going over tony’s notes.

bruce glances at tony, tilting his head at him as if to say him. you roll your eyes, not having any more information than when you asked, “tony?” you growl, walking over to the man, not missing the way little bucky’s hand grabs onto your shirt.

“it didn’t- that wasn’t supposed to happen,” tony defends weakly, a lazy shrug pulling at his shoulders. your eyes flash with velvet red, and, without moving a finger, tony’s pulled in front of you, wrapped in red swirls bucky can’t help but gawk at.

“fix it.” you order. tony nods, pursing his lips, “we’ll do that.” bruce looks a little taken aback, looking up from tony’s scribbles and equations. “i don’t think it’ll last more than a day,” he offers helpfully, “whatever it was tony was trying to do wasn’t either.”

bucky’s eyes start to droop, which he assumes is an effect of the sleepless night he just had on his infant body, something that usually wouldn’t affect him in his one-hundred-and-six-year-old self. he hums when he realizes the irony, leaning his head against the welcoming crook of your neck and catching your attention. you turn to him for a moment, softening a little before turning back to tony and glaring at him, “fix it.”

steve catches you when you walk out of the lab, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he spots the toddler in your arms, “holy shit, that looks exactly like bucky,” he breathes, scanning the dark mussed-up hair and stepping back when bucky opens his eyes. from next to him, sam looks from bucky to you, “did you two have a kid and not tell anyone, because this-”

“is bucky. that’s bucky.” you interrupt, looking at the toddler, “tony messed up with something and… this happened, i don’t completely… bucky’s a baby.”

steve raises an eyebrow, squinting at his best friend, “ha,” he laughs, “wow, he looks exactly like his pictures. he must be about three years old.” bucky blinks at him. “his ma said he was chatting up a storm at that age, though,” steve informs, looking back up at you. sam grins, “has he said anything? i kinda want to hear if he still sounds old.” bucky frowns at him, his pout deepening when sam bursts into laughter, “his grumpy face is the same!”

you look at your boyfriend, tilting your head and smiling a little when you realize he’s right, “you’re cute,” you coo now that you get a good look at him, “you’re so cute,” you murmur, poking his nose with your finger. bucky can’t help the blush that comes to his cheeks. but he slaps away sam’s fingers, scowling at him, “no.” he argues, “no.”

sam frowns, “no old man voice.”

“i hate you,” bucky says to sam, and you laugh, “i think we should leave for now. i need to figure out what will make three-year-old bucky not as grumpy.” sam looks at bucky’s furrowed brows and the same two little lines between them, his eyes flickering back up to yours, “i think that may just be a bucky thing.”

you bring bucky to the living room, sitting him down at the edge of the couch and crouching in front of him, watching him and his little crossed arms, bottom lip jutted out against his own will. bucky isn’t used to the emotional control of a child who’s three and can’t control the frustration that’s coursing through him at the moment. the only thing he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want you to leave him again.

“bucky?” you start, looking deep into the wide blue eyes that let you know it is bucky you’re speaking to. “what do you want to do? are you hungry? d’you want to sleep?” bucky shakes his head stubbornly at you, “i want tony to fix this.”

you sigh, “i know, baby. i do too, but until he finds a cure to this, you’re gonna stay small for a couple more hours.” he pouts at that, and you smooth your thumb over his cheek, “no pouting. we can do whatever you want, buck.”

just as he’s about to reject any idea you have, his stomach rumbles loudly, directing your attention to the arms that guiltily cover up his middle. “bucky... did you eat breakfast today?” you query, a lecturing tone sneaking into your words. “sam ate my cereal,” bucky grumbles, crossing his arms.

“bucky!” you exclaim, standing up to turn to the kitchen, “that’s no excuse. i told you you needed to eat--” you’re barely three steps into the kitchen when you hear the pattering of his feet towards you, grubby hands pawing at your legs.

“don’t leave,” he whines, hugging your ankles and sitting down on the floor, “you left all morning,” he mumbles, smushing his cheeks against your calf.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, bending over to brush away the hair that falls over his eyes. “c’mere,” you murmur, reaching down to pick him up again and bounce him on your hip while you head to the kitchen. “what do you want to eat?” bucky thinks about it for a minute, before smiling, “i want pizza and ice cream.” you frown at him, “i don’t think three-year-olds can eat that. actually, i don’t think anyone should.”

after consulting google on what three-year-olds should eat, you have bucky’s head resting on your shoulder, refusing to let you put him down even as you made him the mac and cheese he had agreed to, still a little upset over the fact you wouldn’t let him eat all the other things he wanted. the only time he let you not carry him was when he was eating, still insisting you sit right next to him to watch as he smeared cheese all over tony’s expensive table.

“okay,” you whisper breathlessly after watching him eat his third bowl of the meal, “i think that’s good.” you shove the dirty dishes in the sink, washing bucky’s hands and wiping at him cheeks with a warm cloth to get the mess he managed to create off. “did you forget how to eat?” you wonder aloud when you finally fnish cleaning him up, watching his small shoulders shrug.

“what do you want to do now? anything you want,” you propose.

“i want you,” he says, reaching his stubby arms out, “cuddles. ‘m sleepy,” he yawns, making grabby hands at you when you take too long to pick him up. “bucky,” you chuckle, complying with him and bringing him into your chest, where he leans his head on your shoulder. “you sure you don’t want to play or something? you don’t want to…” you trail off, trying to think of what three-year-olds do, “walk or read or something?”

bucky grunts in your ear, his eyelids already closing again, “cuddles,” he repeats, balling your shirt up in his little hands.

“okay,” you sigh, bouncing him gently while you walk to your shared bedroom. you pick up a stuffed animal you brought for bucky from one of your most recent missions, “did you sleep last night? is that why you’re so tired?” bucky hums, cuddling further into your chest when you lay down with him on top of you. you hand him the little dog plush, pressing a kiss to his head when he takes the gift, hugging it with you. “honey, i’m sorry,” you frown, gently threading your fingers through his short hair, humming the same song bucky sings to you when you can’t get to sleep. it doesn’t take long to lull him into the calmness of rest.

you only wake up when the weight on you is suddenly multiplied, completely taking your breath away, “bucky!-” you exclaim, rolling from underneath him to meet his closed eyes. you shake your head with a light laugh, drawing a strand of hair behind his ear before you press your lips to his cheeks, snuggling in with him again, “sweet dreams, darling,” you murmur, placing the stuffed animal he dropped on your dresser.

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years

Text

relationship dynamics

because i felt like it

Birdflash: Their relationship dynamic is like the cutest thing ever. “I’ve noticed that we’ve slowly begun to phase the ‘B’ out of our bromance.” Have done the spiderman kiss and will continue to do the spiderman kiss. SO. MANY. PUNS. They’re CONSTANTLY in a pun war. In a drive thru: “Hey can you tell the guy in the car behind me that he’s cute and I’ll pay for his drink?” “Um….okay sir.” “Your total is $10.59. Also the guy in front of you said, um, he said to tell you that he thinks you’re cute and he’ll pay for your drink.” “*rolls eyes with a fond smile* that’s my husband, he thinks he’s romantic,” but the best part is that it works for either one of them. Birdflash Culture is the word “babe.” If you don’t think they had a bubble machine at their wedding then you’re lying to yourself. Eating junk food whenever and wherever they want,. “Oh my god just get in the fucking blanket fort already.” Where you go, I go. SO MUCH FOOD OH MY GOD ALL THE FOOD SO MUCH FRIGGIN FOOD. Police/crime lab aesthetic bc I have a headcanon that they’ both work with the police department (Dick’s a detective, Wally’s the lead CSI). Photo booth strips. Them being impressed by each other all the time. F R E C K L E S. Stopping halfway through the middle of sex because they just realized something about Star Trek season 3 episode 8 and they really need to pull it up on the tv to make sure they’re right. Re-enacting fight scenes from martial arts movies in the living room of a tiny apartment. Have i mentioned the babe thing because they toss around the word babe all the friggin time, not baby that’s gross, just plain babe along with bro and dude those three are interchangeable. “I called shotgun infinity when I was twelve.” The glass is always half full. Them playing video games at home eating pizza counts as a “date” but also they’ve been doing the same thing for years.

Jayroy: “don’t worry I know what I’m doing” “not even god knows what you’re doing.” Sharing cigarettes. Desperate messy kisses. Constant fast paced insult war that you can’t keep up with if you’re not quick witted enough. “My family had to put up with me but you? You’re the idiot who chose me as a best friend.” pet names galore but like edgy ones not gross sweet ones (my personal favorite is jaybird bc it’s awesome and also canon), very very kinky sex, will murder rapists and drug lords in the most painful way possible without giving a solitary fuck but will go to a nursing home the next morning and be as respectful as possible to the elderly. Tattooossss. Baseball hats. Say “fuck you” as “I love you.” Hair ties everywhere. m u s c l e s.

Timkon: Classic love story. Like, switch one of their genders and you’ve got a old school romance movie in the making. Photo shoots with a pride flag and merch. Pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks. Tim wearing Kon’s clothes to the point where practically his entire wardrobe except for his fancy clothes and red robin suit consists solely of Kon’s stuff. The Neighborhood vibes. Holding hands on a date at the carnival. Pride bracelets and pins. 90s vibes. Kind of the type of Destiel feeling where you can’t really have Destiel without also having Sam being the overenthusiastic shipper/supportive brother? That but with the rest of the Core Four. Polaroid pictures. Gay and Tired. Flannel + Leather + Denim. they go on dates with other people (before they realize they’re in love) and spend the entire time talking about their other half. Skateboards. A high school romance.

Damijon (aged up obviously): constant constant constant bickering and arguing, like we’re surpassing married couple status here. “I’m older” “I’m taller” starts out as a biting insult, falls into teasing joke, then becomes something they say with a mischievous fondness and an inside-joke smile. Country + Pop Taylor swift songs. Wandering together through the city. "Be kind to animals or I’ll kill you.” Sitting on the roof together. Kryptonite blades that Jon trusts no one except Damian to wield. “I hate you” “happy to hear it” turning into another inside joke. Sleepovers. Never growing up. “I trust you with my life unconditionally but I do not trust you to get my order right remember the time you betrayed me and everything I ever stood for?” “Oh my god dami I forgot the sauce onCE.” Don’t lie to yourself, habibi is totally a thing. Damian wearing Jon’s varsity football jacket over dark colored/black turtleneck shirts. Damian sketching Jon either late at night in the light of the moon or early in the morning by the light of the sun. Classic dark vs Light. Running down the street tugging the other behind you while holding hands. Red converse + Combat boots. TEAMWORK. “Clark, your son is annoying, loud, clumsy, entirely too tall, hopelessly optimistic, and way too naive. I trust him with every cell in my body.”

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keyboardink · 3 years

Text

“crushed”

Sam and Deena are completely oblivious that their feelings are mutual, especially when Sam thinks Deena and Kate are together and Peter enters the picture.

pairing: samantha “sam” fraser x deena johnson / media: fear street trilogy

genre: friends to lovers, angst with hurt/comfort & fluff / word count: 2.6k / rating: pg-13 / warnings: bullying, a bit of swearing

a/n: so this is an au where deena and sam aren’t exes so sam never left shadyside (& kate isn’t all “screw ur ex” ya know). also kate is bi and no one dies. this is based mainly off 1994 (since 1666 hasn’t come out yet haha). please lmk if you like this & want more fear street fics from me. enjoy! :)

"I still can't believe you're dating a Sunnyvaler," Kate said, popping a potato chip into her mouth.

"Doesn't that totally go against the rules of this town?" Simon chimed in, stealing a tater tot from Sam's lunch tray.

"Oh, please," Sam scoffed, swatting Simon's hand away as he reached for a second piece. "He's actually a nice guy if you got to know him."

"Since when has the star quarterback ever been a nice guy?" Kate replied, earning a raised eyebrow from Simon. "Look, just because I cheer for them doesn't mean I like them."

The stiff wooden table rattled as Deena dropped into a seat across from Sam and next to Kate. She tried to pull her bomber jacket around herself quickly--

"New shirt?" Kate asked.

--but she wasn't quick enough.

"No," Deena sighed, letting the jacket hang open to expose a black, skin-tight tank top underneath. It used to be her favorite, previously baggy in all the right places, but it returned from her last laundry day one-size-too-small. "It just shrunk in the wash and I was running late." She kept her eyes down, focused on the unappetizing cafeteria food in front of her.

Kate eyed her for a moment, then looked over at Sam, who was practically drooling over this new shirt that provided a perfect V-shaped view from where she was sitting.

"I know you're not a fan of tight clothes," Kate countered, "but it looks nice on you. Makes your boobs look amazing."

Deena playfully elbowed Kate's arm, a small smile brightening her downcast expression.

Sam watched the two girls as it unfolded - the low-cut shirt, the raised eyebrows from Kate as she scanned Deena's body, the laughter following her joking shove. Had she imagined the flickers of lighthearted tension between them? She averted her gaze, envy bubbling up in her throat. She pulled her tucked hair out from behind her ears to cover the burning, red blush she felt building there.

"So, what were you guys talking about?" Deena asked, insecurity still swimming in her mind despite Kate's compliment. She looked up at Sam, who appeared to be too interested in her tater tots to hear the shirt dilemma. Although she was somewhat relieved, she felt a pang of disappointment at Sam's disinterest; she was the only person Deena had hoped would look at her.

"Sam's got a new boyfriend," Simon answered, his voice half-muffled by a mouthful of dull-brown burger, oblivious to the sideways glances being thrown around the table.

"And he's from Sunnyvale," Kate added, spitting out the town name as though it tasted worse than the school lunch.

"What? Isn't that, like, against town law or something?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Simon accidentally spewed small chunks of meat on his tray in the midst of his excitement.

"What's his name?" Deena covered herself with her jacket again.

"Peter."

"Peter? Oh, come on, you could've at least picked a guy who didn't have a basic name," Simon rolled his eyes, as if 'Simon' was the most unique name on the planet.

"Honestly, yeah, kinda sounds a little too basic," Deena said, her eyebrows furrowed. She felt a heat tightening within her chest. She was angry at herself, at Sam, at the world.

"I'm not making him up, if that's what you're suggesting." Sam cast a glare across the table, but it didn't stop them.

"Which Peter? I mean, there's Peter Williams, Peter Anderson, Peter Moore..." Simon counted along on his fingers.

"Oh, no," Deena interrupted, a smirk pulling her lips. "He goes to another school. You wouldn't know him."

The two threw their heads back and laughed. Deena felt the fury in her chest loosen slightly, a bit of relief found in the pain she caused others. It was her defense mechanism: when the world turns to shit, you act even worse - that's how you survive.

Sam was on her feet, her eyes full of tears and frustration. "His name's Peter Brody, and he's number 29 on the Sunnyvale football team, and he's actually a good fucking guy, unlike you." Her eyes narrowed, focusing on Deena, who suddenly didn't find the whole thing all that funny anymore.

And with that, Sam picked up her lunch tray, turned on her heel, and walked out of the cafeteria.

***

Monday dragged on, every class seeming longer than usual for both Sam and Deena as they sat in separate silences. Though apart, they each felt the same waves of guilt, anger, and sadness wash over them in cycles as clocks ticked their way to the end of the school day.

Deena was walking out of band practice, which had only extended her already-exhausting day, when she spotted a familiar head of blonde leaning against the cinder-block wall across the hallway.

"Hey," Sam said, reaching her hand out slightly. Her hair was tied back, adorned with an azure bow, and she wore her cheerleading uniform to match.

Deena stopped as guilt flooded her lungs once again. "Hey," she replied in a whisper muffled by her emotions.

"I just got out of practice. Want to walk together?"

Deena could tell Sam was lying. Kate normally waited with her, and they would both be shiny with sweat. The water bottle in Sam's hand was almost empty, meaning she had likely been waiting for quite a while.

Deena nodded, and they started to make their way towards the exit that led to the student lot.

"I just wanted to say sorry," Sam began, "for earlier. It was pretty shitty of me to say that."

"Yeah, but I was being shitty, too." Deena pushed open the heavy, navy-blue door. Sunlight blinded both of them. "I just can't believe you'd get a boyfriend and not tell me."

Sam stayed silent, unable to come up with a reply. Deena had been the first person she wanted to tell, but Kate saw Peter grab her ass after last weekend's game, and suddenly her boyfriend was all anyone could talk about. Sam didn't even know why she had agreed to go out with him in the first place. Everyone had said it must've been a prank, because why else would a Sunnyvaler date a Shadysider? Something about the whole relationship gave Sam a twinge of nausea if she thought about it too much, so she just tried not to think about it.

But she had wanted to tell Deena. She had wanted to see if she would be even a little jealous at the idea of her having a boyfriend. It just hadn't played out that way.

"See you tomorrow?" Sam said, stopping at the curb.

"Is your dad picking you up?" Deena looked around for the familiar, beat-up Ford that Sam's father drove, but to no avail.

"He should be here soon."

Deena knew he had a tendency to flake on his daughter, despite being the one who got custody in their divorce battle. Although Deena hated him for his neglect, she was silently, selfishly grateful that Sam didn't move to Sunnyvale with her mom. Regardless, if her dad wasn't here now, the sun would probably set before he'd remember to show up.

"Come on," Deena said. "I'll drive you home."

The drive was almost-silent. A disc played Pixies at a volume low enough to just barely understand over the sound of rumbling tires on uneven gravel. Sam's house was a bit out of the way for Deena, but as she was slowly realizing, she'd do almost anything for her.

"Thanks for the ride," Sam smiled sheepishly, pulling her backpack up from the floor. She started to open the car door, then hesitated. "Actually, wait, can I ask you something?"

Deena's heart leapt into her throat. "Shoot."

"Are you and Kate, um... like, together, at all?"

"What? No, no no no." A chuckle slipped past Deena's lips at the idea.

Sam must've thought Deena was laughing at her, because she felt her ears grow warm in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry, I just thought... I saw how you two were at lunch today and it just, I don't know. I thought you weren't telling me something." Sam looked at her sneakers, almost pristine white with the exception of faded grass stains on the toes.

"No, we're just friends, I promise. We've been best friends forever. I mean, she was there when I first got boobs, so, I mean, that's just how we are." Deena immediately cringed at that sentence. Way to make it better, dumbass, she thought.

"Oh. Okay. She just talks about you all the time to me, whenever we're at practice, you know? She'll say things like 'Damn, didn't Deena look really good today?' to me, like, all the time."

Deena let herself laugh at that. "Oh, really? Wooow. Good to know."

"I mean, from that I just kind of assumed that you guys had a thing. How could I not, right?"

Deena nodded, understanding that Kate's comments were her attempts at being a good wingman and not confessions of underlying feelings. "Kate and I both like girls, yeah, but not each other, not like that." Deena's gaze flickered over Sam's face, taking in her eyes, her ears, her lips. "Definitely not like that," she added in a soft whisper.

Sam looked up and smiled sweetly, her stare lingering for a moment too long before she returned to the moment. "Well, thanks again for the ride. See you tomorrow." She gave an adorable little wave as she stepped out of Deena's car.

"See ya," Deena replied, her stomach fluttery.

***

The days passed, and the friend group of four had returned to almost-normal. The only thing out of place happened on Friday night, after the second football game of the season. Normally, they would all grab pizza and watch a movie after the game, but this time was different.

"Peter invited me to a Sunnyvale party," Sam explained when they met in the middle of the field as the crowd started to file out. "Maybe next week?"

So Deena, Kate, and Simon ate their pizza without Sam, feeling a tangible emptiness where she would normally be.

Kate's house was on the so-called "good side" of town, where the roads had less potholes and the houses had more structure. It was the most Sunnyvale-esque part of Shadyside. Her living room was homey, with family portraits on the walls and a couch that was lived-in but not worn-out. They had rented Candyman from the town's Blockbuster, which played on Kate's boxy TV.

"I don't like this," Simon said, chewing a pepperoni slice.

Kate responded without looking at him. "The pizza or the movie?"

"Actually, I like both of those things," Simon replied with conviction. "I was talking about Sam. It feels... I don't know, lonely?"

"What are we, chopped liver?" Deena joked.

"I mean, some days you can come close to it," he teased back.

They all returned their attention to the movie, red and white light bouncing across their faces. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door at the exact moment a jump-scare flashed on-screen, causing the trio to startle.

"I'll get it," Deena offered, jumping up from her seat.

She opened the front door to reveal Sam, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her hair was slick and her blue uniform looked damp. Her arms were wrapped around herself as she shivered in the cool October air.

"What the fuck happened?" Deena stepped out of the way to let Sam in.

Simon and Kate scrambled to join them when they realized who had arrived.

"Oh my God, what happened?" Kate plucked her school cardigan off the coatrack and wrapped it around Sam's shoulders.

"Did Petey break up with you?" Simon asked. "I mean, you guys were only dating a week. It couldn't've been that serious, right?"

Kate elbowed Simon in the stomach at his insensitive comment, eliciting a pained groan from him.

Sam hugged the cardigan around herself, but moved her arms enough to reveal "IT" scribbled in black Sharpie under her cheerleading uniform's "SH".

"What the fuck?" Deena repeated, this time more to herself than Sam.

"God, those assholes really have no idea how much uniforms cost," Kate muttered.

"And they... they p-poured ice water on m-me," Sam stuttered just as Simon returned from the living room with a throw blanket. She gave him a grateful smile as she enveloped herself in it.

"C'mon, let's sit down, alright?" Kate suggested. "You want a hot cocoa?"

Sam nodded and followed Deena and Simon to the couch, while Kate split off to the kitchen.

"They poured ice water on you?" Deena asked as she sat next to Sam, a hand around her shoulders.

"Th-they got someone to hold my arms back so they c-could write 'shit' on me, and then someone came outside with a bucket, and-" A small sob came out of Sam's throat, and another tear rolled down her cheek.

Deena didn't stop herself before reaching up and wiping it away. She let her fingers stay there for a moment, unable to think clearly.

Simon stood up quietly, making a hushed excuse about helping Kate with the hot chocolate before disappearing into the kitchen.

"He's such a douchebag," Deena muttered, furious that someone would hurt such a sweet creature like Sam. "I'm so sorry. I'll kick his ass for you."

Sam chuckled at her offer. "Can I watch?"

Deena laughed softly at her response, then realized that her hand was still pressed against Sam's cheek and pulled it away. She let it fall onto her leg, but Sam reached over and rested her own hand on Deena's.

After a minute of silence, Sam had almost stopped sniffling when she spoke again. "I don't even know why I agreed to go out with him. Like, damn, he's not even that hot. I could've at least gotten played by a hot guy." Sam half-giggled at herself then sighed. "I should've seen it coming."

"Hey, it's not your fault," Deena said, placing her other hand on top of Sam's. Her hand was cold and delicate between hers, and she hoped that holding it would provide some warmth to her.

"If I'm being honest," Sam continued, "I think I only really went out with him to forget about this other crush."

"Hold up, you never told me about that. Who is it?"

Deena's obliviousness faded away as Sam looked up at her with wide eyes. The jealousy, the talk in her car, the longing that filled the space between them now - at this moment, it all clicked into place.

"Oh," Deena whispered.

"Deena," Sam spoke, hushed as she leaned forward. "Can I...?"

"Please," Deena breathed as their lips touched, soft and scared and new all at once. The thought of crossing a line beyond the point of return flashed through their minds, but it seemed as though they both wanted to push the boundaries. Sam's free hand cupped Deena's cheek shyly, as Deena squeezed her other hand between hers. They treated each other carefully, as though kissing too hard might break the other, which would be a crime worse than death.

"YES!" Kate shouted, giving Simon a high-five. Some hot chocolate spilled out of the mug in her other hand and onto the floor, but they were both too enthusiastic to care.

"Finally, you guys!" Simon ran over to them, wrapping them both in a wide hug from behind the couch as a giant grin spread on his face.

"You guys were watching?!" Deena asked. She felt her cheeks flush as she pulled away.

"Duh!" Simon answered. "We've been waiting for this!"

"Took you guys for-fucking-ever," Kate said with a smile, handing Sam her cup.

Sam held the cup up to her newly-warmed lips, courtesy of Deena, and took a sip, looking over the edge at her. Deena saw her blue eyes crinkle into a smile, and her mouth returned the sweet sentiment.

#inkwrites #deena johnson x sam fraser #fear street #fear street 1994 #sam fraser #samantha fraser #deena johnson #deena johnson x samantha fraser #samantha fraser x deena johnson #sam fraser x deena johnson #fear street fic #wlw #sam fraser fic #samantha fraser fic #deena johnson fic #fluff #angst #friends to lovers #fear street au

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jamie-leah · 3 years

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War of Wolves (19)

Season 1

Episode 19 - The Search Begins

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word Count: 2530

Warnings: Violence, injuries, manhandling, medical talk, swearing, POV Changes

A/N: Here's another! Late as usual I know, but my life has taken an unexpected turn. However, lets hope these updates will not be more regular. There will be POV changes and I know Bucky's part is third person but I call it Bucky's POV because it's easier for everyone to follow! Enjoy Lovelies! Feedback is always encouraged!

<---Previous Episode Next Episode--->

WoW Masterlist Series Masterist Oneshot Masterlist

BUCKY’S POV

There’s a pounding in his head that hasn’t stopped since the crash. As his senses start to come back Bucky notices, he’s lying on concrete, the cold seeping into his bones.

About the same time, he realises he’s on the floor he remembers what happened. Bucky shoots up from the floor, causing dizziness but he didn’t care. The only thought he had was you.

As Bucky looks around, he sees the chair you were in empty and the room also empty. Morning had started to break, and he curses himself for losing precious hours.

As Bucky starts to make his way out of the building his body aches as his head keeps pounding in time with his heart.

He finally finds an exit and walks until he comes to a main road. Bucky looks around and breathes a sigh of relief that he knows where he is. With no phone or anything to communicate with anyone, Bucky walks.

He follows the main road as his thoughts race. He can’t help picturing you with Isaac and it makes him sick. The worry for you and the anger at himself and Isaac is almost enough to bring him to his knees, but he said he would find you and he would. He would die before he ever stopped looking.

Bucky felt like he had been walking forever but it was probably only about twenty-five minutes. The older building coming into view. He picks up the pace until he comes to the gates.

Bucky walks right in catching the eye of two men. They look at each other alarmed by the way he looks but Bucky simply says, “go get him”.

The one runs off as the other stays by the gate. Bucky keeps walking afraid that if he stops, he won’t be able to get back up.

As Bucky reaches the door Darren steps out looking concerned. Bucky clenches his jaw before saying, “I need your help”.

YOUR POV

You’re cold. You smell damp. You hear murmuring.

You shift and groan as your eyes protest being opened. You feel what must be springs digging into your back as you make sense of what you’re seeing.

Its quite a dark room, the ceiling old brick and as you follow it the walls are brick too. You sit up fast and groan. You notice you’re sitting on a mattress and metal frame.

You stand up and gasp as your bare feet touch stone. When you get over the shock you notice metal bars covering an archway, the only exit to this room.

It took you a while to comprehend what you were seeing but you finally realised that you were in a dungeon. You’re incredibly confused as voices get louder.

You walk closer to the bars, your feet becoming numb due to the cold until two figures step into view. It doesn’t take you long to see that its Harry and Isaac.

You look at the both of them, “where the hell am I?”.

Harry’s British accent comes out loud in the small space, “This is an estate of mine. I had a lot of extra room here, so I let Isaac renovate a few of his labs here”.

You screw up your face, “am I in a dungeon?”.

Harry chuckles, “my estate is essentially a castle, this place has many hidden places, this small dungeon being one”.

Isaac speaks next, watching you carefully, “no one knows you’re here. It’s just me, Harry and one of my men. The rest of the men don’t know you’re here, so Bucky definitely doesn’t know you’re here. Don’t cause me any trouble”.

You hold his gaze lifting your chin, “he’ll find me”.

Isaac smirks, “no. He won’t”. That’s when he pushes some type of clothing through the bars, “wear that. I have some initial tests I want to run as soon as possible. If you don’t have it on by the time my man comes to get you, he’ll put it on you himself”.

Without another word from either of them they leave. You pick up the clothing and see that it’s a hospital gown.

Its freezing in the room due to the stone so you don’t really want to put it on, but you don’t want to risk anyone else putting it on for you. You strip and quickly put the gown on. You sit on the edge of the bed and wait.

BUCKY’S POV

Darren didn’t even blink when he agreed to help in any way he could. The first thing that Bucky did was call Steve.

“Hello?”, Steve’s voice sounded tired, strained.

Bucky was just relieved to hear his voice, “Steve, its Bucky-“.

Steve interrupts him, “Bucky?! Where are you?! Are you hurt? I saw the car-“.

Bucky just manages to get out, “Steve, he took her”.

There was a heavy silence for a few moments, “where are you?”.

Bucky’s head was still hurting, “Darren’s”.

“Me and Sam will be there as soon as we can”, Steve waits a second before hanging up.

Darren comes back with a woman with a full looking rack. Bucky just sits there on Darren expensive looking sofa.

She comes over without a word and starts attending to the cut on Bucky’s head. Darren sits opposite Bucky and waits for the woman to finish. Before she leaves, she hands Bucky some tablets and water.

As Bucky takes them, Darren asks, “What happened Buck?”.

Bucky stares into space picturing the events as he tells Darren, “Isaac ambushed me and Y/N. I didn’t even see it coming. Rammed straight into us. I held em’ off as much as I could but there were too many of them and Y/N refused to run”.

Darren’s eyebrows raise, “brave woman”.

Bucky’s mouth twitches despite the circumstances, “stubborn woman…He took us to a warehouse about half hour from here. He was gonna kill me, but Y/N convinced him not to. He knocked me out and took her”.

Darren’s jaw clenched, “what do you need from me?”.

YOUR POV

It took about twenty minutes for you to hear footsteps and for another figure to come up to the bars. You can’t make much out other than he’s blonde and tall.

He opens the bar door and his gruff voice comes out, “move”.

“Where’s my please?”, you don’t know if its you being brave, stubborn, or stupid, but the comment comes out just the same.

The guy comes marching in and grabs your arm. He yanks so hard that your cry echoes in the room and you’re afraid he’ll rip it out of the socket.

You fight against him, fear of what Isaac has in store finally kicking in. But it doesn’t matter, you can’t get a grip with your bare feet and your punches bounce off him.

He leads you down narrow corridors and you lose track until he stops abruptly at a wooden door. He opens it one handed and drags you in.

Its like you stepped into a different reality. The room was white, and the floor was tiled. It was like you had entered a hospital. It made the knot in your stomach tighten painfully.

Isaac was sitting at a desk in a white coat. Your eyes slide from him to the glass window in front of him that looked into a room with an MRI machine.

Isaac talks with his back still to you, “put her on the table”.

The man starts backing you up, but you keep resisting. You manage to clip the guy in the face, his grip loosening enough to break free for only a second. Before you can get very far, he pulls you by your hair and throws you into the table.

Your stomach collides with the edge of the table and knocks the wind right out of your lungs. You double over and end up falling to the floor trying to suck in air.

Isaac doesn’t even care. He just walks over calmly as you struggle to breathe and injects something into your arm. You don’t remember anything after that.

BUCKY’S POV

The pounding in his head hadn’t stopped. The dizziness was still there, but Bucky couldn’t keep still. He was pacing in front of Darren worrying about you and wondering how he was going to find you.

There was a knock on the door that made Bucky turn around in his pacing. One of Darren’s workers had guided Steve and Sam to the room.

Steve took big strides over to Bucky, pulling him into a hug, closely followed by Sam. When Sam steps back he says, “we’re gonna get her back”.

Steve nods before asking, “what happened?”.

So, Bucky tells them everything. Once Bucky finishes Steve asks, “you got people on the inside, right? You planted people in Isaac’s organisation a while ago?”.

Bucky nods, “I’ll reach out to them, ask if they’ve seen her or heard anything about where he’s got her. There were also cameras at the warehouse he took us to, pull the footage and see if it tells us something”.

Sam holds his hand up, “we’ll do all of that and whatever else you need us to do, but we need to take you back and get you some medical attention”.

Bucky starts to shake his head, but Steve talks next, “Sam’s right. You can reach out to your informants in the car on the way back home, but you need to get your head checked out. You’re no good to Y/N if you’re injured”.

Bucky nods frustrated with how right they were and how much time its going to waste, “okay, lets get moving then”.

Bucky starts moving towards the door and everyone follows. Steve and Sam get in the car and Bucky follows. Before he closes the door, Darren says, “I’ve got a few people I can reach out to. I’ll let you know if I hear anything”.

Bucky nods, grateful, before slamming the door. Sam hands him a phone to start making calls as Steve speeds back home.

YOUR POV

It was like you were repeating history. You wake up groggy again and you shift as springs dig into your back.

You take in your cell and start to get up before the world tilts causing you to crash back onto the bed. That’s when Isaac speaks, making your heart race, “you’re going to feel dizzy and you’ll probably throw up soon. I need you to rest because I’ll need to take a few more tests in a few hours”.

You manage to murmur, “fuck you”.

Isaac chuckles, “the harder you fight the more I’m going to enjoy breaking your spirit. There’s a bucket in the corner of the room for when you throw up”.

You listen to his footsteps walking away, loud to the throbbing of your head. You try focusing on your breathing, but it wasn’t long before you felt saliva flood your mouth and your stomach clench.

You stumble out of bed and towards the corner. You nearly fall two times before making it to the bucket and heaving. Not much comes out as you stay hunched over the bucket for about half an hour just heaving.

By the time it stops your body is shaking and you have to crawl back over to the bed. You get back on and curl in on yourself, falling asleep to forget.

BUCKY’S POV

By the time they get back to the house Bucky has got in touch with everyone that he can think of, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.

He gets out the car more frustrated than ever and once inside he makes a beeline for the office. That is until Steve blocks his path, “I don’t think so. Med wing. Now”.

Bucky doesn’t fight as Steve escorts him towards the medical wing. He asks softly, “how is Peggy doing? I can’t believe I missed everything”.

Steve smiles, “she’s doing great. She’s at the safe house with the kids thinking of a name for our boy as we speak”.

Bucky nods, lost in thoughts, “good, that’s good”.

Steve looks over concerned, “Buck…”.

Bucky reaches for the med wing doors, “go and get the footage from the warehouse and get in contact with anyone I missed in the car while I get my head sorted”. Bucky didn’t give Steve a chance to say or ask whatever he was going to say as he lets the doors close.

YOUR POV

You wake to the noise of the barred door scrapping against the stone floor. You don’t move from your foetal position on the bed.

It’s the blonde guy again, “move”.

Your body still feels weak and shaky. When your voice comes out you don’t recognise it, “go fuck yourself”.

You hear his heavy steps approaching and you brace yourself. Again, he yanks your arm and pulls you off the bed. You don’t expect it and can’t catch yourself in time before your hip and knee collide with the stone floor.

You yelp as pain radiates along your leg. As you try breathing through the pain, he takes advantage and manages to carry you most of the way without much fight from you.

He drops you on the table in the room and Isaac is waiting with another syringe. He wastes no time in using it as you feel the sting in your arm.

They both step back and you start to get off the table, but your limbs don’t listen. You try moving your legs, but you go nowhere. You try moving your arms but still you’re staring at the white ceiling.

Panic starts clawing in your chest as your eyes dart around the room as much as they can. You can feel the cool table underneath you but despite all your strength you can’t even make your fingers twitch.

You even go to ask Isaac what he did but your mouth wouldn’t open. Fear was gripping your racing heart as you hear your blood in your ears like the sea raging on the shore.

Isaac comes into view with a smile, “try not to panic, it wouldn’t do me any favours if you died. I needed to do an MRI with you awake, but I imagined you wouldn’t lay still for me, so I thought I’d make you”.

He nods to the blonde guy and he picks you up. He takes you into the next room and places you on the machine.

During the entire process you try to move, but nothing worked. The loss of control and feeling of helplessness made breathing difficult.

You decided to just close your eyes and picture Bucky. You picture him healthy and in one of his black suits. You try and imagine what he would say to you now. He’d probably cup your face and make your eyes look at his and say, “you’re strong, smart, and stubborn. I know you can do this until I get there, you just need to breathe Doll. Just breathe for me. I will find you”.

It was only when you opened your eyes that you realised a tear had escaped down the side of your cheek and into your hair.

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#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky fandom #bucky series #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!au

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mcwriting · 3 years

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The Marriage Project (10)

Hellooooo! For 300 followers, I decided to drop chapter 10! Please enjoy!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2202

Warnings: maybe some language?

% approximately the last weekend of october %

By the time everyone and their families had gotten to the city and eaten dinner, it was around 8:30 pm, so you and Tom decided to try and knock out your project work.

You sat in the breakfast lounge next to each other at a table as other team members and families conversed. You noticed Nikki and your parents talking and gave Tom a glance.

Since this was your last ever volleyball tournament (at least for high school), your parents had come and you were getting to stay in their hotel room instead of a team room.

You mostly worked silently when you and Tom overheard some people talking about homecoming.

“Who’re you taking to homecoming?” he asked casually. “And don’t say Paddy or Harry.”

You laughed at that one.

“Uhh, no one. I don’t really have anyone to take so guess I’m flying solo with the girls again. Why? Who were you gonna go with?”

“Eh, nobody. The guys brought it up earlier to me and I was just curious.”

“Oh, really? I thought you had girls lined up at your feet. And a couple guys, too.”

“I’m pretty sure I could say the same about you. And you mean freshmen? Yeah right. I’m not about to catch a case, not that I’m remotely attracted to any of them.”

That comment made you laugh again.

“Yeah, well, those same freshmen are the ones spreading rumors about us. It’s stupid. We oughta stick it to them somehow.”

“What are you getting at..?” he trailed, suspicion in his voice.

“I don’t know… What if we just went to the dance together? I mean, we’re already on homecoming court and are most likely gonna win, so what if we just showed up together to annoy them? It’s not like we have to make it some big deal or anything.”

He looked at you for a minute, like he was doing calculations.

“So… you and me, no matter whether we win or not, go together? You don’t think that’s just gonna make things worse?”

“I’m pretty sure anything we do will keep causing rumors so long as we’re doing this project. We don’t have to, I just thought it would be funny to see everyone’s reactions.”

“You know what, let’s do it. There’s nothing for us to lose. Let’s just not tell people we’re going together and then just show up there. If anyone asks just say we’re going solo?” He suggested.

“That’s not going to work completely… what if you came to dinner with me and my friends beforehand? We can surprise them all and then the rest of the school at the dance. It would be really sus if I bailed on dinner and I’d like for your mom to take some pre-dance pictures.”

You decided to shake on it and get back to work, but your stomach was doing the same fluttering it had been the past couple weeks. By the time you two finished, it was just past 10 pm and most of the parents and even some of the team had gone to their rooms.

The only people you knew nearby were Sam and Julia, who were sitting on a chair together watching something on her phone, and of course Tom, who was watching snap videos from friends at the Halloween party that had just started.

“I think I’m gonna head upstairs. Even though top seed doesn’t play the first round, I have to be up kinda early,” you explained as you stood, gripping your laptop across your chest.

“What’s your room number, I’ll walk you up. Some of the people here have been giving me weird vibes.”

“Umm, let me check,” you pulled out your phone with the text your mom had sent earlier. “415.”

“Oh that’s perfect. We’re in 416. Just across the hall.”

You said goodnight to Sam and Julia as you passed and went to the elevator. As you waited, a young couple, probably in their mid twenties came up, obviously drunk. They were dressed up for the holiday, and you were surprised that they were seeming to cut the night short.

“Oh my God babe, look, they’re like younger us!” the girl attempted to whisper, giggling. Your face burned as you glanced at Tom, who looked as uncomfortable as you.

“That’s so dope! How long have you been with this little lady?” the guy said directed to Tom, giving you a once over, as all four of you entered and pressed the buttons to your floor.

“Oh we’re no-” you began when Tom interjected.

“‘Bout a year, man,” he smiled, tossing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you in tight. The elevator doors closed.

You simultaneously wanted to push him away and fall into his tight, warm grip. You decided to play along as you continued to hold on to your computer.

“Best year ever!” you exclaimed, leaning up to give him a peck on the cheek.

“Oh come on! You can do better than that! Kiss him! Kiss him!” the girl egged on. You both chuckled nervously and gave each other a look. There seemed to be a silent consensus to just do it for the bit.

Tom moved his arm to your waist and lightly pressed his lips against yours, smiling as he pulled away. You were left a little stunned as the inebriated couple clapped and cheered.

You could tell they were going to say more when the doors opened on the fourth floor.

“Well here’s our stop. Nice talking to you. Come on, princess,” Tom said, the both of you rushing out of the elevator, his arm still around you.

Once the door closed, you both let out a sigh as you turned down the hall towards your rooms.

“Well that was... weird,” you stated, the both of you walking pretty slowly. You were keenly aware of the way his hand tightly cupped your side as you clumsily knocked into him a few times.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Sorry about that. I didn’t know what they were gonna do and that guy had creepo vibes and I panicked.”

“I get it. We are married, after all,” you said quietly, wiggling your left hand. “Well, here’s my room. Thanks for keeping an eye out. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see you at breakfast. You’re gonna kill it tomorrow,” he said softly, squeezing you in a side hug one last time before letting you go. Your side tingled from where his warm body was no longer touching as you entered the hotel room.

It wasn’t long before you were also saying goodnight to your parents and laying in the dark room, reflecting on the wild day that was Friday.

You knew that back home everyone was still partying, as you’d received pictures and videos of your friends dressed as Guy Fieri, but you’d had a whole different kind of experience, unsure if it was a good or bad one.

Tom’s lips were kinda soft though

And his big hands around my waist fit nicely

You pushed the thoughts away as you finally fell into deep slumber.

You headed to breakfast wearing sweats, a baggy tee, and a pair of socks and slides. Looks were not a priority right now. While you waited on your waffle to finish cooking, someone appeared next to you, yawning.

“Morning, princess,” he muttered, stretching and rubbing his eyes.

“You really aren’t a morning person, are you?”

“Nope. Now how much longer are you gonna be here because I’m in need of a waffle,” he asked, nudging your sides. It seemed as though you were both pretending the previous night had never happened.

Once you both built your plates, you went to sit with some of the team when Tom plopped into the seat next to you. He immediately began digging in, but paused when he realized the whole table was starting at him.

“What’s wrong, you want me to bless the food or something?” he looked to you.

“No it’s just surprising that you’d come sit with us is all,” one sophomore said. “I mean, you’re like the most popular guy in school.”

“Yeah well the real legend is this bit-” your glare stopped him in his tracks, “...I won’t call you that word, but anyways y/n ranks above me. If anything, she’s the intimidating one.”

The girls giggled and went back to their conversations, occasionally looking at Tom still.

“Sorry I almost called you a bitch. I meant it the good way,” he whispered into your ear.

You stared at him for a few seconds as you finished chewing a bite of apple.

“I’m just confused as to why you came over here with all the girls.”

“Well it might come as a shock to say that you’re the only person here that I’m friends with other than Sam, and he’s on thin ice after hogging the bed sheets last night,” he explained, shooting a glare to his younger brother, who was obliviously eating with Julia and his mom.

“Today’s gonna get real boring then if I’m your only friend.”

“Hey, remember our conversation Monday? Cute uniforms?”

You slapped him on the chest for that one.

A long, hard day of games had led up to this moment. A whole season. A big portion of your life.

It was probably between 7 and 8 pm. You weren’t sure. All you knew was that the scoreboard said 24-23 your team. Meaning, one point for you equaled a final win.

You wiped the sweat from your brow as you stood on the back line of the court, nervous and determined.

There were cheers from all sides of the gym as you prepared to serve one last time, hopefully for the better.

The upper ref blew her whistle and motioned her hand for you to serve.

One

Two

Three

bounces on the gym floor. A toss in the air. A slap to the ball.

The ball passed the net and sunk right to the gym floor without a single person touching it.

It took you a second after the whistle blew and the scoreboard changed to realize that you had won the game. You were snapped back to reality by the loud cheers of your teammates and supporters.

The team came and congratulated you, slapping your butt and squeezing your shoulders. They pushed you to the front of the line to shake hands with the other team and refs under the net.

You didn’t realize until the team went into a huddle that there were tears slipping down your cheeks and everyone reached out to love on you and Anna. All those years working for this moment and it had finally ended.

Coach made her speech short and sweet, because you could tell she was holding back tears as she looked between you and your co captain.

The two of you led one last cheer for your team. A tournament official came to hand the team the trophy, give you another tournament MVP medal and both you and Anna all tournament and all state awards. You hung them on your neck proudly, happy to feel their weight.

Upon turning around, the first person you saw was Tom, who had a big smile on your face. You immediately rushed to hug him, jumping a little into his arms.

“Told you you could do it!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms over your sweaty frame. You pulled away, arms still loosely holding each other. He casually brushed the residual tears from your cheeks.

“And what’s this? Some new ice?” he asked, grabbing all three medals in one hand. He raised one up pretending to bite it.

“My drip is just too clean,” you joked, flipping your ponytail over your shoulder. You heard someone clear their throat behind you. It was your dad.

You went and hugged your parents and talked for a few minutes, then were called over for Nikki to take team pictures.

Everyone showed off their fiery hair ribbons (you had stayed true to your joking promise) and got pictures with the trophy. You and Anna also took some biting your medals and alone with the large award.

You finally headed to the locker room, changing and packing up your volleyball bag one last time.

The end of an era was a sad one to say the least.

You said goodbye to everyone as your parents got the car ready. Tom came up.

“Hey. Good job once again. I’m proud of you. See you Monday?”

You felt yourself blush as your stomach flip flopped.

“Thank you, Tom. I’m glad you were here this weekend, especially last night. See you then.”

You gave one last side hug before getting in the car and preparing for the long ride home. You were sitting still for a while reflecting on the day when your phone lit up.

“How’s the ride so far?” Tom asked over text.

“It’s been 20 minutes, Tom.”

“Well if I’m going to be stuck third wheeling Julia and Sam I’m gonna need someone to talk to.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, continuing the conversation all the way home until you were falling asleep in bed.

A/N: ahhh thank you all again for 300 followers! I genuinely can’t believe that there are that many people who are so interested in my writing! Especially those of you who have been around since the beginning, when my writing was especially bad haha. Love you all!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads, @justafangirlduh, @supraveng,

#The Marriage Project #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland story #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you

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sometimes-iwritestuff · 3 years

Text

Splash!

Kara was in the zone before she even stepped onto the poolside. It was the National Diving Championships and Kara had been training upwards of 30 hours a week, her season had been great.

She was one of the best 10m platform divers in the country, a shoe in for a spot on the National Team, heading to the World Championships in a few weeks. All she had to do was secure a spot on the podium in this competition, not that she’d be happy with anything else than gold.

The only competitor she really had to worry about was Lena fucking Luthor: she was a member of Metropolis Diving Club and had been Kara’s arch rival since they began

competing more than 10 years ago. Of course National City Diving Club was the best club in the country, no competition, in Kara’s eyes but MDC were up there among the best, majority of the National Team trained in Metropolis.

“Hey, Danvers.” Kara rolled her eyes, she could already hear the smirk in Lena’s voice. She stopped riffling through her bag and turned, scowl permanently fixed on her face. “Aww, don’t do that, you’ll give yourself wrinkles.” Lena pouted.

“What do you want, Luthor?” Kara sighed.

“I just came to wish you good luck. You’re going to need it.” She paired the condescending statement with a sweet smile.

“Shouldn’t you be over there with your team, Luthor?” Alex said, coming to her sisters aid.

“Do you always let your sister fight your battles for you?” Lena pouted, Kara growled and took a step towards her. Lena just laughed, not intimidated at all by Kara “The Human Puppy” Danvers. She tapped her on the nose and sauntered away, swinging her hips.

“You always let her rile you up,” Alex groaned.

“Yes, Alex! I’m very aware of that fact, but she is incredibly fucking irritating!”

“Kara!” J’onn chided, he looked at the floor. Kara growled through her gritted teeth and dropped onto the floor to do her set of push-ups, she kept her eyes on Lena who was stretching across the poolside.

She was shorter than Kara, her body the perfect mixture of hard muscle and soft curves, not the traditional body type for a diver which meant she had to work extra hard to make sure she was perfect.

Kara was tall and muscular with long, lean legs and a natural talent for the sport. That didn’t mean she didn’t work as hard, Kara was the most dedicated athlete on the team, she adored the sport and would put in the same amount of effort in the dryland as she did in the pool.

“Maybe, don’t stare at her the entire time. You’re giving her the wrong impression,” Alex smirked.

“I’m not staring, I’m channelling all my disdain towards her.” Kara muttered, shooting dangers towards Lena who was stripping her team tracksuit off.

“Just don’t let her get to you. This is your last chance to show everyone how talented you are, just compete a solid list and you’ll earn your spot on the National Team.” Alex squeezed her shoulders and Kara nodded.

They warmed up and Kara grabbed her shammy from her bag, heading up to the highest board, ready to start her final training session. Lena was already up there, pressing up into a perfect back armstand and Kara definitely did not stare at her ass while she was doing it.

Kara ran through her dive list twice before getting out of the pool and finishing her session, heading to the showers so she had plenty of time to get changed. She let the warm water run over her muscles, relaxing them, she rolled her neck and shook out each of her limbs. She was feeling loose and limber, fully prepared for the competition.

She heard that distinct giggle and every muscle in her body tensed up again, Lena and her best friend/synchro partner Sam Arias rounded the corner. Kara immediately grabbed her stuff and went to leave before Lena wound her up again.

“Going so soon, Danvers?” Lena teased, Kara didn’t say anything she just scowled at the pair. “You know, your list is really shaping up this season, now you might be able to keep up for once.” Lena ducked under the spray and ran her hands over her hair.

“What are you talking about? I’m the defending champion and my list has been higher in difficulty than yours for the past three years.” Kara spat, Lena may be her toughest competitor but she wasn’t unbeatable.

“Yeah, but your season hasn’t been the best,” Lena snickered. “You’re inward 3-1/2 has been... below par. We both know the only reason you choose that dive is because you need the extra DD.” Sam giggled at the remark.

“Whatever, Luthor, we’ll see who’s on top at the end of the day,” Kara stormed out of the showers before they could see the blush coating her cheeks and went to get changed.

She put her headphones on and laid on the poolside, there were three more competitions before hers, she put a podcast on and relaxed. Alex woke her up just as the third competition started, it was a small one so she made her way to the dryland to begin her warm up.

In a short amount of time it was time for the parade, Lena was too occupied with her own preparations that she didn’t have time to irritate Kara. They both had their own competition routines which meant they didn’t have any interaction during the event.

They’re lists were both relatively the same with only one difference: Lena competed inward 2-1/2 somersaults pike and Kara chose the slightly harder dive: inward 3-1/2 somersaults tuck. It was more of a risk but Kara knew she could score 9’s most of the time.

They were pretty much neck at neck up until the last two rounds of dives, five points separated the top two spots. Kara managed to score 9’s on her dive, Lena on the other hand, scored perfect 10’s, grinning as she climbed out of the pool, knowing she had nailed it.

It all came down to the last dive: front 3-1/2 somersaults pike. They were neck and neck, Kara was ahead by just 3 points due to her higher dive difficulty. Kara took a deep breath and set off on her run up, she knew as soon as she hit the water that she’d over rotated slightly, she could feel it on the back of her calves. Kara scored 8’s, it was a solid score but she knew it would be close.

She watched with bated breath as Lena measured her run up, she ran her shammy over her face once more before throwing it down to the pool side. Lena closed her eyes and visualised the dive going perfectly, she set off and Kara felt her stomach drop and Lena entered the water with a perfect rip entry.

Lena Luthor was the new Women’s Platform National Champion.

“Well done, Kara.” Alex gave her a hug, Kara could help but feel disappointed, silver was still an incredible accomplishment but it wasn’t the spot she wanted. “2nd is still something to be incredibly proud of and the National Team would be stupid not to take you.” Kara nodded, “now, go get your jacket on. They’re presenting the medals in a moment.”

Lena was elated, Sam swept her up in a tight hug, congratulating her over and over again. Lena couldn’t keep the wide grin off her face, smiling from the moment they announced that she’d won the title, all the way to the moment she locked the door of her private shower cubicle. Her team mates knew that she needed time alone after a competition to decompress and reflect on her performance, no matter where she placed.

She heard a soft knock on the door and she opened it to tell Sam she would be out soon.

Instead she was met with bright, blue eyes. She allowed Kara to slip inside the cubicle and pull her into a tight hug, “congratulations, baby. I’m so proud of you,” Kara mumbled into her ear.

“Thank you,” she sighed, it had been a gruelling year for Lena, she was at the pool every single day working as hard as she could and it had finally paid off. It was just a shame that for Lena to win, her favourite person had to lose. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to retain your title.”

“Hey, no, we agreed to leave it in the pool, remember? Besides, you’ve worked your perfect ass off for this title, you deserve it.” Lena chuckled and captured her lips in an earth-shattering kiss, it had been months since they’d last seen each other.

They broke away to catch their breath and Lena looped her arms around Kara’s neck. “Just three more months.” Kara hummed, holding her close.

In three months, Lena would be moving to National City for college and they could finally be together. Lena’s family were incredibly strict, they were hell-bent on their daughter being the Olympic Champion one day. That meant no distractions and no dating, oh and they were also incredibly homophobic so Kara wouldn’t be invited to Thanksgiving any time soon.

The young couple had to pretend to hate each other until Lena could move away for college. They had an agreement that any mean comment they said to each other, they really meant the exact opposite. Kara got so wound up because she couldn’t go up to her girlfriend and wish her good luck or give her reassurance without saying something horrible to her.

“You dived so well today, you don’t have to worry about getting picked.” Lena kissed up to her ear. Lena had already been chosen for the team and they were both still nervously waiting to hear if Kara had a spot.

“What if I don’t?” Kara mumbled.

“Then I’ll sneak you into my suitcase and they’ll have to pick you,” she heard Kara’s small chuckle. “I love you, darling.”

“I love you too.” Kara whispered back.

They had started off hating each other, their clubs had the worst rivalry in the country and the pair were always pitted against one another. Up until two years ago when Lena had placed third at a local competition and Kara had found her crying in the stairwell after her mother had yelled at her. Lena had told her to go away but Kara hated seeing her beautiful, green eyes look so sad. She was so used to them being filled with mirth and mischief, instead of leaving she pulled her into a hug and held Lena’s shaking body. From then on they were friendly to each other, they were still competitive but the comments weren’t as harsh. Until one particular meet when Lena cornered her in the showers and accused her of deliberately putting her off during her final dive. They’re heated argument quickly turned into an, equally as heated, make-out session.

***

Kara was stood in the shower, basking in the glory of her third win this season when Lena came storming into the showers, tears in her eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Kara grabbed her elbow, but Lena pushed her away.

“Just get away from me! This is all your fault,” Kara was taken aback.

“Whaa? What do you mean it’s my fault?” Kara accused, she furrowed her brow and stepped closer to Lena.

“You whistled during my last dive, you put me off!” She yelled, pressing a finger against Kara’s chest.

Kara scoffed, “oh my God. I didn’t put you off! You lost! Get over it.” She said through gritted teeth. Lena didn’t just lose, she came fourth, she hadn’t not medalled in years, her parents were going to kill her. In return, she was going to kill Kara.

“You’re such an asshole! I thought we were friends now,” Lena had gone from teary eyed to full blown rage in less than a second.

“Your head is so far up your own ass, you can’t handle the fact that you messed up on you own!” Kara yelled back.

“I hate you!”

“I hate you more!” They were so close that Kara could see one of her green eyes was slightly blue, she surged forward and captured Lena’s lips in a bruising kiss. Lena let out a squeak of surprise before kissing her back feverishly. Kara gripped her hips and pulled her closer, Lena moaned into her mouth, tugging on her hair. Kara spun her around and backed her up against the tiled wall, she cupped Lena’s face and ran her tongue across her bottom lip.

Lena suddenly stopped and pushed at her shoulders, “I can’t, I’m sorry.” Lena said, breathless. She tried to brush past Kara but the blonde stopped her.

“Wait. Don’t go, please. I’m sorry if I went too far, I just-“

“Kara, it’s okay, you didn’t go too far. It’s just my parents don’t approve of... this.” She gestured between the two of them.

“Screw them! Do you want this?” Kara circled her wrists and ducked her head to look into Lena’s eyes. She searched her eyes and dropped her gaze down to her parted lips.

“Yes,” Kara backed away, leading Lena towards the shower cubicle. She locked the door and recaptured her lips.

***

After that day, Kara had asked for Lena’s number and the rest was history.

They still had to keep up the facade until Lena moved, but Kara quite enjoyed the sneaking around, it meant she could have Lena all to herself and with everyone knowing she was off limits already, she didn’t have to worry about anyone else trying to worm their way in. Not that it would worry her anyway, Lena was head over heels for Kara and vice versa.

“You think you can sneak out of your hotel tonight?” Kara asked.

“Mhmm, Sam is usually out like a light after a day of competing,” Kara began swaying slightly, soothing the girl in her arms.

“Meet you in the parking lot at 9?” Kara suggested, Lena nodded. “It’s a date and I can’t wait to spoil the new National Champion!” Kara grinned.

#kara danvers #lena luthor #lena x kara #supercorp #supercorp fanfic #supercorp fic #supercorp au #diving #diving au #the diving au no one asked for but I wrote anyway #secret relationship #honestly the lack of creativity or effort that went into that name

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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

Text

Courtship: Invitation

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Warnings: mentions of blood | depictions of firearms/firearm handling | mentions of hunting

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

AO3 version

Slight revisions and full version posted on: 5/4/2021

“Here,” Sam hands you a thick envelope. “Your pay, as usual.”

You trust Sam not to go behind your back and the mutual agreement set between you two, but you make sure to grab and stop him from walking away with all your produce just yet. You need to count the money he's handed over and ensure every last madol is where it should be. Thankfully, it is, but there are a few extra bills you know aren’t supposed to be in there.

You remove the extra money and hand it back to him. “You gave me too much.”

He pushes your hand back and shakes his head. “Consider this my holiday gift for you.”

You give him an incredulous look. “You sure? Because if you come back here next week telling me I owe you money I’m going to sick the wolves on you.”

Your threat is met with a hearty laugh from the shopkeeper. “Have I ever done you wrong, my friend?”

“Yes, you have actually.”

“Haha, good times indeed!” He casually waves at you as he hauls away your vegetables on a large wooden cart. “Happy holidays!”

You have half a mind to remind him that the holiday season is over. Instead, you decide that it’s best to just turn around and walk away. The money is in your hands and your produce is in his care and that's all there is to it. This season's harvest is now officially concluded and you can start prepping for the spring. After a long-deserved rest, of course. The few extra madols give you just a little more than what was needed to put down for a brand new generator for the dorm. You have a model already picked out ahead of time. All that's left is to order and wait for it to come in.

"Well?" Benji floats up to you as soon as you enter the front door. "Do we have enough?"

You proudly wave the envelope in the air. "We have enough and then some!"

Your housemates cheer and pull you into a group hug. Frankie takes the envelope from you and heads out, most likely heading to the safe you’ve hidden from Grim so he can put all the money together and deposit it at the nearest bank. Once the ghosts come down from their brief celebratory high, you excuse yourself and head to the backyard where Malleus is waiting for you.

"I'm back!" you happily announce your arrival.

"Welcome back," he smiles up at you. "Did you get your payment?"

"I did!" you nod. "Frankie's taking it to the bank, so I should be able to get that new generator before sunset."

"That's good. It'll be one less problem for you to worry about."

"You can say that again," you sigh. "Thanks for your help today. I'm surprised we managed to pick and clean everything up before noon!"

You situate yourself next to Malleus, who's sitting down on the low porch. Gunter's pups have been following him since breakfast and you don't think they'll be off his heels for some time. It's been like this since they were born. One might even be able to say that they like him more than they do you. Malleus doesn't show it or verbally express it, but you can tell he enjoys their attachment to him. He allows them to jump all over him and drench him in wet kisses without much of a fuss. Who knows, when they grow older they just might start following and taking orders from him rather than you. Maybe he won't need Sebek and Silver to follow him anymore if they stick around?

You can imagine Sebek being incredibly offended that a bunch of wild wolves took his job.

Malleus looks at you. "Have you given them names yet?"

"The pups?" you ask for clarification. "I've been meaning to, but my head can’t think of any. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them."

Malleus mulls over your offer. He picks up one pup at a time, trying to think of an appropriate name to give them. After about 10 minutes his shoulders go slack and he looks back over to you with disappointment. "I'm afraid I'm drawing a blank as well."

"Well, you gave it a shot," you clap your hand on his shoulder. "Tell you what. Once we get that new generator, we can sit down and do a bit of name-brainstorming over some tea."

"Yes, that sounds lovely," he smiles again, and you start to realize that he has a damn good smile. "When do you want to get together?"

"Sometime next week. With the extra money Sam gave me I can get the generator in faster!"

Malleus seems momentarily excited, but it quickly dies as he suddenly realizes something. "Can we meet the week after next? I have something important coming up."

"Sure," you say. "What's happening next week?"

"It's…" he hesitates. "It's my birthday next week."

Your eyes pop wide open. "Oh shit, for real?"

"Indeed."

One of the pups desperately tries to jump up onto the porch, but his stubby legs and meager strength aren't enough to push him over the edge. As you reach down and help him up, you ask, "How come I'm only hearing about your birthday now?"

Malleus carefully lifts the other pups onto the porch as well. "You never asked me."

"No kidding", you snort. "To be honest, I thought that maybe you didn't celebrate it anymore since you're hundreds of years old. Don't birthdays lose their novelty after a few centuries?"

"They do,” he agrees “I haven't had a grandiose party since I was about your age."

"Wow," your eyebrows lift in shock. "That's just rude."

He suddenly looks so terrified. "I didn't mean it-"

"I'm kidding!" you quickly reassure him. "Lighten up Tsunotarou! I'm not going to shoot you for poking a bit of fun at me."

"So you say," he grumbles.

"I'm not!" you defensively shrill. "If you're talking about the time I shot at those sea worms, I had every right to! No way in hell was I gonna be intimidated into giving my dorm up. Not now. Not ever."

Those "sea worms" you're referring to are Jade and Floyd Leech from Octavinelle. During exams week, Ace Deuce and Grim as well as many other students who made a deal with Azul for his infamous study guides practically kissed the very ground you walked on in order to convince you to rescue them from their dubious contracts. Initially, you refused their request no matter how much they pleaded or bothered you. It wasn't until Jade and Floyd caught onto this bit of information (it’s hard to ignore a dozen students following you around like a bunch of chicks) that they began to set their sights on you. The two tried to squeeze you into a deal that would release everyone who signed a contract with Azul for his infamous cheat sheet, so long as you could keep up your end of the bargain.

It was clearly too good to be true or fair. Nevertheless, you decided to at least listen and attempt to negotiate some sort of proposal that would make both sides happy, if only to have your intruded space restored to normal. Unfortunately, Azul wouldn't settle for anything less than your dorm, which you refused to hand over despite Grim's OK to put it up for grabs. Jade and Floyd insisted you agree to the terms for the sake of your friends and fellow schoolmates, but you bluntly told them something that, to this day, never fails to make Malleus giggle even when he's in a foul mood.

"You're not getting my fucking dorm! Not now! Not ever!"

Unfortunately, Jade and Floyd began to follow you around too and even went as far as to visit your dorm during unconventional hours, on a regular basis. Their insistent arguments began to turn into veiled threats, and you aren't the type of person to take them all too well. Malleus remembers visiting you one day only to find you out on the roof, your hunting rifle in hand, keeping a vigilant eye out towards the gates for the Leech twins to make their expected visit. Malleus knew that your weapon is a dangerous one when used correctly, but he did not expect as much power behind it as it had until you shot a couple of live rounds near the merfolk's feet.

His ears still ring thinking about that powerful discharge.

"Where is your rifle?" he asks. "Also, where is your falcon?"

"Twilight? She's still upstairs in her cage." You make a vague gesture towards the second floor.

Twilight is a falcon that you found during one of your hunting trips, having suffered a nasty injury to her wing. You have some experience with falconry so you immediately recognized her mannerism as that of a hunting falcon as well as her breed, an Aplomado. You tried to find her original handler while you nursed her back to health, but unfortunately, no one came forward to claim her and you decided to keep her. You and her bonded very easily, so rehabilitating and training her to take commands from you was a breeze. While you expected her to maybe leave your side once she was able to properly fly again, she remains determined to stick with you.

You stand up and turn towards the back door. "I should probably wake her up before she gets mad at me.”

"I'll watch over these while you do that," Malleus grabs one of the pups who topples over another and refuses to get off of them.

"Thanks!" You bend down and give him a quick one-armed hug from behind. "You're the best!"

As you're about to head back into your home, you stop at the door and turn back around. "Are you sure you want me to bring my rifle?"

"Do you not want to bring it out?"

"I don't mind bringing it. It's just, not everyone likes to be around guns."

Malleus nods in understanding. "Well, I'm not like everyone," he playfully remarks.

"No, you're not," you smile. "I'll be right back then."

"Take your time," he assures you.

"Rise and shine pretty bird!"

You lift the dark sheet off of her cage so she can bask in the morning light. Twilight was busy preening herself, but now that you're in her sight she begins to happily screech and shuffles closer to the door, eagerly awaiting for you to open it so she can jump on you.

You quickly slip on your handling gloves and help her transfer from her perch to your hand. Her sharp talons tightly grip around the sides of your fingers, but the thick leather prevents them from piercing your raw flesh. You snap your fingers a couple of times to get her attention focused solely on you. When she maintains steady eye contact with you, you reach into your pocket and present your other gloved palm to her. In it are some bacon bits you managed to snag from the leftovers of this morning's breakfast. She eagerly pecks and munches down the small meal.

"It still isn't the best time to go hunting, but how's about I let you out anyways and you can stretch your wings for a bit?"

She expands her wings and flaps them a few times, a sign that she's eager to take you up on your offer. You haven't taken her out to hunt for about a month, mainly because you were gone half of the time. The winters here are especially harsh, even with a bunch of fire faeries keeping the campus somewhat warmer. The pickings are also dry since most of the wildlife on the island are sticking close to their burrows to stay warm and wait out the season.

You've been itching to head out into the forest recently, but winter is usually a bad hunting season for you. Luckily, you've met and befriended a few of the locals on the island who live off the bounty of the land as you do. They tend to look out for one another and offer help during difficult times, and the barren winter is no exception. You make a mental reminder to reach out and ask where some of the best hunting spots on the island are once this generator fiasco is all taken care of.

"Now, you wouldn't happen to know where my rifle is, do you?" you ask her. When she goes to nibble a piece of your hair, you know that she has no clue.

As you're about to head down to the foyer (you often leave it there), a sudden squeaking noise catches both Twilight and your attention. There, at the other end of the hall, a beady-eyed Jerboa bounces up and down in a steady rhythm in an attempt to grab your attention.

Scarabia wasn't entirely traumatizing. You met Gizmo, the Jerboa before you, during one of the exhausting desert marches, nearly dead from severe dehydration. The little guy brought you a bit of comfort throughout the entire ordeal. He also was able to bring you the enchanted envelope Malleus gave you before he went back home for the winter break. It immediately sends any letter you place inside it to him once you set it on fire. How else could you have contacted him after your phone was conveniently confiscated after your first escape attempt?

"Good morning, little guy," you smile down at him. "You wouldn't happen to know where my gun is, do you?"

It seems he does, as he turns and begins to race down the adjacent hall. He stops every so often to look back at you, making sure you're still keeping up with him. Eventually, he stops in front of a door to one of several lounging areas. This one, in particular, is more the ghosts' lounge than anyone else's. It's filled with all sorts of memorabilia and photos from the dorm's heyday. The ghosts have shared a few stories about the shenanigans they got in when they were both alive and students at NRC. Interestingly enough, the dorm was a sort of "halfway home" for students undergoing the difficult process that is switching to another dorm. The idea was to separate the student from those of their originally assigned dorm so they can better learn and adopt the characteristics of the dorm they wish to transfer into.

Soon enough, the dorm began to house more and more people. A common feeling amongst the residents of the past was a feeling of displacement or disconnection towards the other formal dorms and the ideals they upheld. While not approved by the headmaster, the residents began to form a sort of pseudo dorm with its own set of principles as well as assigning a dorm leader and vice leader just as the others did. Nothing was ever written in stone, but the ghosts vouched that the main “characteristics” amongst Ramshackle’s past residents was a desire to establish camaraderie with those around them, no matter their background or origins.

Listening and learning what the Ramshackle once meant to them and so many others hit home for you. You lived near a small rural town, surrounded by people who were willing to share their resources with their neighbors and even the occasional stranger simply because it was a kind thing to do for one another. The students of NRC are willing to put their heads together, sure, but there almost always has to be some sort of catch that benefits the individual.

Living with students like that is stressful as hell. Somedays you just skip school entirely, having already gone through the many woes and few wonders of high school back in your world. You have zero patience to deal with people who only view each other (and subsequently you) as inferior or a mere stepping stone to trample over. Ace and Deuce are your friends and have proven that they are "exceptions" so to speak. However, they're still just a couple of kids. No matter how well you three communicate and work well with each other, there's just a natural disconnection you feel with them that not even magic can fix.

It makes your close connection with Malleus, someone who's centuries older than you, incredibly ironic. You've essentially had your life figured out back home, and in some strange serendipitous way, so does Malleus. He's going to become king of his home country immediately after or sometime after he graduates, while you were going to continue living that nice rural lifestyle you lived back home, alongside your 3 aunts and many cousins. At least, once Crowley finds a way to send you back.

Maybe that's why his confession felt so much more confusing and intensely when it happened. Everything seemed so linear before he uttered those three words to you. Now, it feels like the clear and concise timeline you've had pictured in your head for months is just one big blob of scribbles and nonsense.

"Am I doing something wrong?" you desperately ask Frankie. "Because it feels like I made some huge mistake and now it's coming back to bite me in the ass right now."

"Of course you haven't done anything wrong," he rubs your shoulder reassuringly.

"Then why does it feel like everything around me is slowly falling apart?" You're sobbing at this point. The cigar you took from him earlier is now abandoned, snuffed out in the ashtray. "Why does it feel like I'm falling apart?"

"Nu-uh," he shakes his head and gives you a stern look. "We're not gonna do none of that. Do you hear me? None."

"Then what the hell do I need to do?!" you shriek. "Frankie, I'm fucking losing it here. I'm one more backhanded dismissal away from kicking Crowley's teeth in. I swear, if one more overblot happens, so help me. I can't deal with someone else's problems when I can't even get a full night of rest anymore!"

"You've done nothing wrong, you hear me?" he reaffirms. "I get it, I do. Right now, life is handing you a bad hand and you don't have the people you usually rely on for support. I've been there kiddo. We all have. We may not be like your aunts or your loud-ass cousins,"

A smile finally cracks on your face. He's using your own words you've used to describe your younger family members. You love the little tykes, but they can be a handful sometimes.

Damn, you miss them, your aunts too. They're all that you have left after a messy custody battle with your parents. This garden. Your rifle. Hell, even your insistence at taking over many of the household chores have all been your desperate attempts of finding some sort of familiarity in this new and strange world.

"But remember, those in Ramshackle stick together and help each other out when they're in a pinch. We'll handle all the little stuff, the cooking, the cleaning, the occasional clogged pipe," he scoffs, annoyed just thinking about the pipes clogging up again. They've been doing it a lot lately and everyone in the house is incredibly over it. "Right now, your only priority is yourself. Okay?"

It takes you a moment to really take in his words, but eventually, you nod in understanding. "Alright," you affirm out loud.

He squeezes your shoulder. "Good."

A sharp and muffled whistle pulls your attention away. Johnny's voice is a little hard to make out, but you're able to make out "generator working" and "warm coffee".

"C'mon," Frankie holds open the glass door and ushers you outside. "I don't know about you, but I could use a cup of coffee."

"I could use two," you sigh.

He gives one last squeeze around your shoulder. For a moment, it feels like you're back home. You feel a little better too. A little bit more secure.

As you enter the room, you see that Benji, and Johnny are gathered for the usual late morning/early afternoon poker matches.

"Hey, prefect," Benji, the first one to notice your entrance, greets. "Need something?"

"Have you seen my rifle?" you look around the room for any immediate sign of it. "It's been a while since I used it and I've completely lost track of it."

"Should be under one of the floorboards here," Johnny, who is playing busy rearranging his cards, says. "If not, try the floorboards in the living room."

You thank him and begin carefully stepping and tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards, trying to find and search one of many secret spaces made back in Ramshackle's glory days. Nothing dangerous (you hope) was ever hidden. It was mainly used by the students who lived here during its heyday to hide bottles of alcohol and cigarettes. You know, the typical items a bunch of teenage outcasts would keep around.

There was actually a bottle of some rare and expensive wine that was left behind as the number of residents began to dwindle. You and the ghosts are waiting for the right occasion to crack it open and enjoy the vintage-like a bunch of fiends. Grim won't be having any. Hell no.

Twilight has temporarily detached herself from your side and perches comfortably on Benji's shoulder. Her talons dig into his white spectral body, but he doesn't wince or show any sign that he's in any pain. She nibbles on his worn scarf to pass the time until you call her. Gizmo busies himself by helping you find all the secret spaces. He finds one and begins jumping over it more enthusiastically. When you pry the wooden slat up, you perk up as the familiar scent of old gunpowder fills your nose.

"There you are!" you practically sing when you lift the board and see your trusty gun. "And here I was thinking Benji lost you."

"I heard that!" he shouts, deeply offended.

"I know," you reply. "Glad to know that your hearing hasn't gone out yet. Had me worried for a while, gramps."

Johnny erupts in a symphony of loud laughter. While community and mutual respect were a value shared between Ramshackle residents, a bit of teasing and the occasional prank is always welcomed. It's a great way to keep morale up. It's also satisfying to say a remark that makes everyone laugh or have a prank go as planned. So long as no one got hurt, it's all fair game between you all.

You lift the heavy rifle out of the space and do a routine check. The internal magazine is empty and when you probe the back of the chamber with your pinky you don't feel a loaded round inside. You flip the safety on and off and pull the trigger a few times to make sure the mechanisms are working correctly. You also do a quick count of your ammunition. While guns do exist in this world, coming across bullets is much harder than it is in your world. This is mainly due to the reliance on magically sourced bullets that help reduce the use of resources. Their rarity makes them expensive, and the few blacksmiths who do make them usually don't sell to anyone unless they feel the buyer is a genuine enthusiast of their craft. The buyer also needs to have a license to own them, which you thankfully earned after a few safety lessons and a short exam.

Lucky for you, the one and only smith on the island who makes bullets was more than happy to provide you with some bullets at an affordable price after you allowed him to ogle your rifle for a few hours. It's an old model, supposedly used by your great grandfather after he was enlisted into the army. When the war ended and he was sent back home, he customized it so it can be used for hunting deers instead of people. Your first aunt Gia was always handling it. Whether she was taking it apart and putting it back together or out in the backyard doing some recreational target practice.

She always looked strong yet elegant carrying it around, not that she isn’t without it. During your first year living with her, you tried to imitate her, slinging some large stick you found out in the woods to try to exude the same energy she did. When your second aunt Lucia moved in with your cousins after her divorce, she was quick to reprimand you and confiscate any of the newly found branches you brought back home and waved around as an imaginary rifle. Your aunt Gia eventually began to teach you how to properly and safely handle her firearm. By the time your third aunt Marisol moved in after graduating from university, you were one hell of a sharpshooter and a damn good hunter.

With the rifle now deemed safe to take to Malleus, you sling it over your shoulder and make your way out of the room. You whistle the signal for Twilight to return to your side and she immediately heeds your command. Her obedience earns her a few more bits of bacon. Gizmo also wishes for some compensation for helping you locate your rifle. You make a quick trip to the kitchen and give him a few raisins to snack on. He's the only one who eats raisins in the dorm, so you don't skimp out on him.

Blossom does try to snag a few for himself, but a threatening screech from Twilight scares the gluttonous fawn away. That deer sure loves to eat.

"I'm back, again!" you announce as you reclose the back door behind you.

"Welcome back, again," Malleus regreets you. "And a good morning to you, Twilight."

Twilight also loves Malleus. She eagerly shifts her feet, desperately wanting to fly onto his arm and properly say hello. You let her transfer onto him once he slips on the safety glove you provide. After a few minutes of giving her loving neck scratches and trying to stop her from nipping at Malleus's ears (she likes them a lot and, now that you’re thinking about it, you do too), you take her back and help send her off into the air for some much needed soaring time.

"I see you brought your weapon," Malleus looks at your rifle with an examining eye.

"I did," you bring it around and into your arms. "Now, why did you want me to bring it again?"

"No reason in particular," he admits. "I just...I'm quite used to seeing you with it. You're never without it unless you're attending classes."

A proud smirk finds its way onto your face no matter how hard you try to hide it. "I'll take that as a compliment."

A potentially stupid idea pops up in your head. "Do you want me to teach you how it works?"

"Truly?" Malleus looks extremely shocked at your offer. "You dislike it greatly when another person touches it."

"I dislike it when people who don't know the first thing about gun safety touch my gun," you correct. "But count yourself lucky, because I know everything there is to know about this one right here!"

"Very well,” he gives a conceding nod. “Have at it."

This is the most excited you've ever been since waking up in the floating coffin all those months ago. While you aren't the biggest gun enthusiast out there (you only ever use it for hunting), you do like it when people show interest to learn about your hobbies. Ace and Deuce are teenagers, so it's no surprise that they don't exactly find the long and grueling labor that goes into gardening all that exciting. Your firearm is nothing more than a toy in their minds, though Deuce is a bit more serious than Ace is when it comes to safety.

Speaking of gun safety. "Now, I don't mean to nag but it's important to remember that, under no circumstances, are you to ever point a gun at anyone. Loaded or unloaded."

Malleus makes a face of confusion. "Then how come you pointed and shot at the Leech twins?"

"Hey," you put your hands up in defense. "I wasn't shooting at them. I shot at the ground and it just so happens that their feet were near my line of shot."

"Ah, I see," he chuckles at your convenient excuse. "So shooting near an individual is ok, so long as the bullet doesn't hit them."

"Exactly," you wink at him. "But seriously, don't point it at or near anyone. And don't look down the barrel. Lilia nearly gave me a heart attack when I caught him doing just that."

He closes his eyes and gives a deep nod like you just bestowed upon him a great piece of wisdom. "Duly noted."

"Next is the magazine," you turn and pull back the bolt handle to show him the empty magazine hidden underneath the bolt itself. "This is where you put the bullets. The magazine holds up to 4 bullets, 5 if you keep one loaded in the chamber. Since my gun is an older model, you can’t pop in an external magazine. Unless you're in a desperate situation, it's best to"

You look up to make sure Malleus is following along with your explanation. Maybe he is, but it's hard to tell when his eyes completely ignore the rifle you have set between the two of you and instead keeps his eyes focused solely on you. Your throat immediately dries up and you feel your heart begin to beat just a bit faster after it skips a beat. The look he's giving you is the same one he gave you at Scarabia, a content, and dazed smile. There's a hint of melancholy in his expression, evident by how the inner corners of his eyebrows turn upward.

He looks so at peace, yet so sad.

"What's wrong?" you ask, though you know full well what's making him feel that way he does.

He shakes his head in denial. The visual sadness goes away once he settles. "Nevermind me. Keep talking, please."

"R-Right," you stutter. "Where was I again?"

"You said your gun is an older model."

"Right," you remember. "Since the model is old, it's best not to reload too quickly, otherwise you risk jamming the gun and in some cases, you might break a mechanism."

You feel a faint vibration underneath your leg. Thinking it's your phone (now set back to vibration mode) you start to pat down your clothes to try and find the device. Surprisingly, it actually came from Malleus's phone. It keeps pulsing in fixed intervals, likely from someone calling him. He quickly pulls it out and clicks on the red reticle, sending the caller to voicemail without batting an eyelash. You couldn't see who was calling, but you swear their name started with an 'S'. Could it be Silver or Sebek calling? You hope it's not Sebek because once Malleus starts to manually decline his calls, the next person he usually rings up is-

You feel another vibration, this time it's coming from your phone that you apparently left in your back pocket. Lo and behold, it's Sebek that's calling you. You show your screen to Malleus, who makes a dramatically loud sigh of exhaustion. Sebek...While he's well-intentioned and has his charming points, he can be a bit of a handful...

Ok, that's too nice a way of putting it. Really, as passionate as he is, he can be a bit annoying to deal with sometimes. You're trying to be polite as you can be with him because you've been told that Faes offended easily and you're not going to be that asshole. Though, you’ll be the first to admit that he’s such an easy and fun target to joke around with. Blame the ghosts, their behavior is gradually rubbing off on you.

His protectiveness and the deep admiration he has towards Malleus is a little quirky, even cute at times. It reminded you of a child vehemently protecting their parent from their lover, not that you and Malleus are dating or anything.

Why did that last part feel weird to say in your head?

"Go ahead and answer," Malleus concedes. "I’m not entirely in the mood to listen to his shouting in the middle of the day."

"Oh, his heart would break if he heard you," you place a hand over your fake-pained heart. "You are such a cruel man, Great and Benevolent Malleus!"

The two of you erupt into a brief fit of laughter. After calming yourself down, you answer the phone. "Hello, you've reached the Ramshackle dormitory."

You have to turn away and cup your free hand around your mouth so the phone doesn't pick up Malleus's uncontrollable giggles.

"Human!” he shouts into the phone and you have to pull it back to alleviate your overwhelmed eardrum. “ If you would kindly put Lord Malleus on the phone, I would greatly appreciate it."

You look over to Malleus, but Sebek was loud enough that you don’t have to mouth anything to him. He gestures for you to hand the phone over to him, but you put your hand up to tell him to give you a moment.

"If you want to talk to Malleus, press two,” you blankly say. “Those are the rules."

"Human! I don’t have time for your terrible jokes!"

Malleus then gestures for you to hand over your phone. "Do as they say, Sebek," he calmly commands.

Your hands slap against your mouth to cover the loud and ugly screech you make when you hear the loud dial noise come right after.

The two talk for a while. It’s mainly Malleus listening to whatever Sebek is passionately rambling about while giving the occasional hum and idle acknowledgments. At one point during the call, he looks over to you and frowns. You mouth “what’s wrong?” but he shakes his head and looks away. Once he hangs up, he lets out a very stressful sigh and slumps a bit. He’s upset.

“Hey,” you move your rifle and scoot closer to him, giving him a gentle shoulder bump once you’re near. “Talk to me. What did Sebek say?”

“It’s nothing important,” he continues to dismiss. “Just a trivial matter.”

“ Malleus,” your voice becomes stern. “C’mon, talk to me.”

He tends to downplay his troubles since he thinks they pale in comparison to the many other aspects going on in his life (being royalty can’t be easy). When it was clear that you were more than just an acquaintance, Lilia gave you a bit of advice about Fae behavior so you can better communicate with Malleus and get him to open up to you. Faes cannot lie, but they can give half-truths, and, depending on how powerful one is, they can tell white lies. It took a bit of work, but eventually, you gained enough of Malleus' trust as well as reassured him that you won't up and abandon him for simply voicing his opinions or feelings, even if you might disagree with him.

“You first,” he says insistently.

Also by the advice\of Lilia, you have a bit of an ongoing exchange with Malleus. For every instance he bears his inner thoughts and feelings to you, you have to tell him something about yourself that others don’t know about.

Have all your facts been embarrassing admittances? Yes, they have.

“No offense, but aren’t Fae notorious for being a bit...y’know?”

“Mischievous?” Lilia snickers.

“Right,” you cross your arms in an attempt to provide yourself with a bit of comfort. Lilia’s casual demeanor surely isn’t helping you. “Telling Malleus all my innermost secrets is surely going to come back and bite me in the future.”

“Well, in most circumstances you wouldn’t be wrong.” Suddenly his playful voice becomes firm and actually assuring for once. “However, there is no need for concern. I can say with certainty that whatever you tell Malleus, no matter how embarrassing or incriminating it is, will forever remain with him and him alone.”

The old Fae pats you on the head, despite being taller than him. “He cares deeply about, truly.”

That fuzzy feeling in your chest returns. Your hands have an itch to fidget with something to try and distract yourself. It ends up being a strand of your hair that gets blown in your face after an especially chilly gust of wind dishevels it. That’s when a small bulb lights up in your head.

“I hate the winter,” you admit. “The long nights throw me off and I have terrible luck running into wild game when I head out into the field. Really, it's cold weather that I hate in general.”

“Interesting,” Malleus clearly takes in and files away this new fact he’s learned in his head. “This likely isn’t a surprise, but I enjoy this time of the year.”

“What's winter in the Valley of Thorns like?”

Malleus, shocked at hearing your sudden interest in his home, begins to paint as detailed a picture as he can about the kingdom during the colder seasons. Greenery is a bit sparse given the Valley’s more mountainous terrain, but he insists that the thorn bushes you can find in nearly every corner of the land are beautiful in their own right. No matter the season, there’s always some amount of fog that dilutes the rays of the sun, so a day without one is often seen as a sign of good fortune by the people. Modern machinery is all but nonexistent as well, so there are no buildings, pollution, or lights to obscure the starry sky at night.

“Now it just sounds like I’m back home,” you let out a sad reminiscent sigh.

“What about your home? What is it like?”

“About the same as yours, except we got plenty of sunlight and we had lush forests instead of rocky cliffs. There was a small town about half an hour out, but most of the businesses there have been around since the ’50s.” You notice his confusion as your terminology, but a brief explanation of your world’s calendar clears it up.

“It sounds charming,” he says. “I’d love to visit it one day, should the opportunity present itself.”

“There’s an ice cream shop down the main avenue,” you mention, knowing how much he enjoys the cold treat. “The owners even change their selections every other day, but the rainbow sherbet is the best one they have!”

“Is that so?” he chuckles at your enthusiasm.

A sharp screech cuts your conversation into an abrupt close. That was without a doubt a signal from Twilight, letting you know that someone is walking up the pathway to the dorm. You aren’t expecting anyone, and Frankie is likely just arriving in town by now. You remember how Malleus seemed dejected after his call with Sebek.

Just as you connect the dots, Malleus stands up, brushing off any dirt and debris from his clothes. “I apologize, but I must head out now.”

“Already?” you ask with playful sadness. The fuzz in your chest dissipates into a dull ache. Weird.

“I need to go over my guest list for my birthday once more. Lilia insisted I send out handwritten invitations to immerse myself into the festivities.”

“That sounds about right.” After standing up yourself and insisting you’ll walk him out, you ask, “So when can I expect my invitation to come in?”

“You want to come? Even after,” he immediately stops himself from speaking.

Does he really think he messed up that badly with you?

“I do want to go,” you firmly tell him. “Even after everything that’s happened.”

There’s a brief silence between you two before he says, “You don’t have to force yourself.”

“I’m not,” you reassure him.

“So you say.”

“Malleus,” you sigh. “If there’s anyone scared about our friendship dissolving because of what happened, it’s me. I’m the one that’s keeping you in suspense, even now.”

The truth hurts, but no amount of shared laughs and the occasional antics between the two of you is going to magically dissolve the damage present. You’ve hurt him, and in a way, it’s hurting you as well. Life isn’t as linear as it was, but sulking and bringing the people around you down is a terribly selfish thing to do, especially towards someone you care a great deal about. You weren’t raised like that. You were taught to appreciate the little things and watch out for those around you. Not for personal gain, but because it was simply a kind thing to do.

This feeling of insecurity came before the winter break. Being around so many people whose ideals and actions clash with yours often succeeds at making you think that you’re the one in wrong, that you’re the helpless and naive one. That’s far from the truth. The community you’ve built with the ghost trio and the natives on Sage’s Island is proof that your values are shared with others.

It’s just like Frankie said, life is just serving you a bad hand right now. You can prevail and return to the better days. The better days when you and Malleus were the best of friends. But why does your heart hurt when you think about his confession for the umpteenth time? What’s making you so hesitant? More importantly, why couldn’t you tell him “yes”, yet you also knew you couldn’t tell him “no”?

As you watch Malleus and Sebek depart from your front door, making their way down the steps towards the front gates, you hastily announce that you’ll be back and begin running towards them.

You need to make things right.

Malleus noticed the way your hands sought something out to fidget with when you were feeling...he doesn’t know what that was. You weren’t feeling uncomfortable as far as he could tell.

Were you perhaps...flustered?

No, that can’t be it. You don’t think of him that way, he’s sure of now. When he quickly reassesses his behavior, he didn’t do anything that would warrant you to become nervous, other than look at you with a far too amorous gaze while you explained the ins and outs of your firearm. He couldn't help himself. Seeing you so passionate and animated, even if it's over something he has no knowledge or a particular interest in, made his heart flutter as well as ache yet again.

They fidget with the nearest object when they feel uncomfortable. Remember that.

“What was that, Lord Malleus?”

Sebek’s booming voice catches him off guard a bit, but he quickly recovers as if nothing disturbed him at all. “It’s nothing, just thinking aloud.”

“I see. In any case,” he quickly changes the subject. “The materials needed to write and send the invitation letters are all ready. Sir Lilia insists that you write each one on your own, but I am more than capable and willing to offer my assistance should you need it!”

“That’s quite alright. There aren’t a great many I need to send anyways,” Malleus gracefully rejects Sebek’s eager offer.

There really aren’t that many people who will be attending, just the residents of Diasomnia and that’s it. He initially had plans to invite you, but he’s caught between a rock and a hard place. You’ve expressed your desire to come, but he can’t help but feel that it’s only out of pity.

He doesn’t want that from you. At this point, he just wants things to return to how they once were before he opened his mouth and began to spew a bunch of one-sided nonsense. He just wants your friendship, pure and untainted like before.

Perhaps he’s destined to never have a friend after all.

“Malleus!” your distant voice calls out to him, causing him to stop in his tracks and turn around to search for you.

He doesn’t understand how you do it, but just hearing you call his name utterly burns away all the muddled thoughts circulating within his head. He is exceptional when it comes to defensive magic, yet whatever spell you manage to cast on him that makes him so taken by you, it exceeds even his own magical prowess.

But you don’t have any magic. Not even a speck courses through your veins. You’re just an average human. His nearly crippling infatuation is entirely his own doing.

"Oh, thank goodness you haven't made it past the front gates yet," you heaved out. Did you run all the way here? Did he forget something? He quickly pats his front pocket and feels a hard lump, his phone. It’s the only personal item he brought.

"Human," Sebek's voice sounds annoyed at your sudden presence. "What do you need from- AH!"

Sebek's scream hurts Malleus's ear, but the slight and momentary ring means little when you've wrapped your arms over his shoulders and pull him into a tight embrace. He immediately melts into your arms, smothering his face against the crook of your neck and taking in your scent like a desperate man. Despite the sweat you and he worked up from hours of labor, you still smell so nice, like fresh cotton and assorted herbs. It's unique. It's comforting.

It's you.

"One week," you whisper in his ear. "Give me one week. I'll have an answer for you then."

He pulls back and looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. "Pardon?"

"I've hurt you, badly." you look down in shame. "I still am, but I'm going to make it up to you. I promise"

"A promise made with a Fae is a dangerous thing, especially when you don't uphold your end of the deal," he says with a warning tone. "One week. Are you sure that's enough time?"

"It is," you say with certainty.

You're not one to lie or bite off more than you can stomach. You know when you've been beaten, that's why you called for his help over the break. His interpretation of trust differs greatly from yours, and it's not given to many, Fae or not.

"Very well,” he yields. “I will trust you to keep to your oath.”

“Thank you,” you squeeze him closer against you. “And I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just please, don't break my heart any further," he whispers pleadingly into your ear.

Apologies are dangerous words to say to a Fae, even a bit demeaning to some. The same with words of thanks, which you often say to him regularly. Malleus has developed a habit of accepting them out of courtesy. It's an aspect of his culture that you struggle to adjust to since it's interpreted differently in human society. You've also told him something he finds humorous, how your aunts constantly enforced you (in your words “beat it into you”) to say "please", "thank you", and “sorry”, as they didn't want others to think they were living in a crude household. It's incredibly ironic considering you tend to swear every other sentence.

You explained that "Thank you"s are acknowledgments of the efforts one makes for another, no matter how small or grandiose the gesture is. Apologies are acknowledgments that one has wronged another and wishes to make amends.

It sounds like common sense, but he understands now what you mean when you tell him "It's the little things that matter most". His heart was hurt when you couldn’t tell him “yes” or even a simple “no”. He's still suffering from the aftermath of his confession, even as he signs off on the last of the invitations for his birthday party, his mind failing to commit to the enthusiastically written words. You've acknowledged that you see his pain and that you recognize that you're its source. Despite having other troubles of your own, you've made it clear that he's now been pushed up your long to-do list and that he's now your main priority.

It brings much-needed relief to his pained heart, though just a bit.

He waits until Sebek is gone before he rummages around his desk for a beige-colored envelope, the one he enchanted and gave to you so you can speak to him over the break (he preferred this method over text messages). It still has your SOS letter in it, written with your now aged and darkened blood.

Malleus. I'm sorry for the smell, but it's all I have on hand. I'm in Scarabia's dorm and they're not letting me leave. I've been here for a few days to help the vice dorm leader with some sort of internal affair, but I think he did something to me that's making it impossible to refuse him anymore. I tried to bail, but they caught me and now they're locking me up and keeping a close eye on me.

If I may be a bit bold, I'm fucking scared out of my mind. I know it's rude of me to make demands without proper compensation, but I think I need some help. I don't want to cause a big fuss, so if you can could you come alone? If you can't that's fine. I'm sure I can pull through until the break ends.

I hope you're doing well. Again, sorry for the smell.

He makes a few more creases in the paper due to gripping it so harshly. He remembers opening it the first time and nearly ripping it in half because of how utterly livid he was. Your fresh blood also didn't help at the time. You didn't state what your current condition was when you drafted the letter and his mind immediately thought of you being injured and that was the reason you wrote it in your blood.

The time between him sneaking past his castle's security once he received your letter to arriving on Sage's Island via his own magic (curse the dark mirror for being inactive during the winter) is a bit of a blur. All he can remember is that he was just so worried for you, a magicless human against an entire dorm of wizards in training. Even someone with subpar control over their magic can do you a great deal of damage.

If sneaking out of his home without telling a soul, potentially causing one of the largest search hunts to commence had someone noticed and reported to his grandmother, doesn't prove how much you mean to him, he doesn't know what will.

One week. If it takes you one more week for you to realize this, then he will wait.

He trusts you, just as you trusted him when you sent him that letter.

He grabs his quill and dips the tip into a jar of ink, writing something quick and straightforward on a spare piece of parchment.

"Please come to my party. It would mean the world to me."

After the ink dries, he folds it and places it in the envelope, sealing it with wax bearing the crest of his family. He needs not utter a single incantation to have it erupt in a blaze of green fire. He waits. One minute. Two. Suddenly, a spark of blue fire erupts on his desk before dissipating, leaving behind the same envelope he burned minus a wax seal.

He opens it.

"Of course I will!"

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst malleus #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #twst writing #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #gender neutral reader #fanfic: courtship

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.2

hell is empty, and all the devils are here

Chapter One

This is the second chapter in my new ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Spencer's disordered and depressed thoughts were introduced, he was shot, Foyet stabbed Hotch, and Spencer ended up alone in his apartment :(

In This Chapter: we get to see Hotch's view of the events of early season five.

TW: aftermath of violence, recovery, spousal death, grief/mourning

Word Count: 3.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

AARON

All but mariners plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, then all afire with me: [he] cried, 'Hell is empty and all the devils are here.' — William Shakespeare, The Tempest

The team is working on the case.

Aaron tries desperately to remember this when the fear starts to rise in his chest again, squashing his lungs and pressing violently against his already groaning heart. The team is working on the case, they always solve the case, and he trusts them with his life because, at the end of the day, that’s what’s at stake here, isn’t it? Haley and Jack are all he has in this world; he absolutely cannot lose them.

The team is working on the case.

Frustration builds as he lays in a hospital bed, completely incapacitated during the most important case of his life, and it’s only made worse by the knowledge that Spencer is hurt, too. He was absolutely furious when he eventually found out after asking his whereabouts on his third day of hospitalisation, having realised he hadn’t seen him once at the hospital.

Rossi had deliberately omitted Spencer being shot from his account of the case. Why, he had no idea. Did he not think it important that one of their own was seriously injured? Aaron hopes not. Did he think he was unable to handle the information at that point? Certainly more probable, but still infuriating.

It was all exacerbated by the guilty expression on JJ’s face when he asked who’d been visiting him. She’d told him that there hadn’t been time, that they were working on the case 24/7, that Penelope had heard from him and he was fine, but it wasn't enough to satiate his rising anger. Aaron doesn’t quite understand the blistering fury he still feels when he thinks about Spencer injured and alone, abandoned by his team, but he expects it’s because he still feels protective over the youngest member of the team.

That’s almost definitely it.

He takes a month off from work, but he has no idea what to do with himself, especially once he's discharged from hospital and returns to a lonely apartment in which he was brutally attacked by the FBI’s Most Wanted Serial Killer. He’s miserable without seeing Jack regularly and fearful of the length of time he’ll have to wait until he can see him and Haley again as he tries desperately not to think of the possibility that he may never see them again.

A lot of time is spent touring his DVD and box set collections and passing the time by cooking and exercising as much as his healing body will allow him. Every functional moment, every spare shred of brain power he has to spend, though, is directed at the Foyet case.

Finding Nemo is playing on the TV when there’s a knock at the door a week into his stay at home — admittedly, his collection is not all that large and he’d exhausted the more age-appropriate films far too quickly — so he turns it off and peels his exhausted bones off the couch. Most of the team have dropped by at various points, bringing food and gifts and comfort in the worst time of his life, so he’s expecting Emily or Rossi or JJ, but instead, it’s Spencer standing on his doorstep.

He doesn’t have the time to school his expression so his surprise is written all over his face, and Spencer must see it because he immediately cringes and deflates, as though suddenly doubting whether showing up out of the blue was a good idea after all.

“Hi.” Aaron smiles welcomingly to try and counter the negative thoughts that are almost certainly worming their way into Spencer’s mind. “Come in.” He steps aside and allows him to hobble awkwardly into the living room, his crutches dragging slightly along the carpet, the telltale sign of someone not quite accustomed to them yet.

“I hope it’s alright I came,” Spencer says shyly, almost apologetic. “I should have texted but I dropped my phone under the sofa and I can’t get down on the floor to retrieve it.” He blushes at his admission but gratefully accepts Aaron’s invitation to sit down.

Aaron smiles as warmly as he can manage, joining him on the couch. “You're fine, don't worry; it’s not like I’m up to much. I’m just happy to have some company.” He almost confesses that he was watching a children’s film before Spencer showed up, but decides that’s perhaps revealing just a little too much. “How have you been doing? I did message you, but I suppose your phone gathering dust under a couch explains the lack of a response.”

“You did?” Spencer’s eyes meet his and he looks utterly bewildered for some reason, seemingly surprised that Aaron would do such a thing. “Sorry, I— yes, that would be why, uh.” He looks down, clearly trying to gather himself as he plays with his fingers. “I’m fine, though. Obviously, the leg is a little sore, but. I’ll be back to work on Monday.”

“Good,” he replies, though he knows a gunshot wound will still be more than a little sore only two weeks after the initial injury. “How long do you have that?” He gestures vaguely to the brace around Spencer’s left leg.

“Not really sure,” Spencer says, looking sort of bemused by the contraption. “It’s pretty inconvenient, so I hope it isn’t too long.”

Aaron can’t help but smile at the small grin on Spencer’s face as he looks down at the brace. It looks… genuine. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to contemplate why that’s so endearingly surprising. “Are you looking forward to going back?” he asks, settling back into the couch cushions as he feels his muscles protest against his strained position.

Spencer seems to struggle for a response, unsure how to answer him. If he wasn’t so damn exhausted he might try and figure this slightly odd behaviour out, but the inherently complicated puzzle that is Spencer Reid feels like one too many right now. “I’m looking forward to not being quite so bored,” he eventually replies with a short, self-deprecating laugh. Aaron almost flinches at the sound, so foreign for Spencer’s gentle soul.

He’s fiddling with his crutches and the profiler in Aaron is screaming at him to decode what’s going on, but he forces himself to push it to the side. Spencer is a capable man. He’ll be fine. Aaron, on the other hand, needs to try and save his energy for his family.

“I can understand that,” Aaron says diplomatically, careful to not reply too emphatically one way or another. “The boredom’s crippling sometimes. Thankfully, the team coming round has been saving me from having to watch too many movies.”

Spencer seems to sort of shutter down as the words leave his mouth for reasons he doesn’t know or comprehend, but he does know that the resulting silence is awkward and he feels like he’s stuck his foot in his mouth by saying something totally innocuous. Has he had a falling out with someone or something? Is it something to do with not having many visitors in the hospital? He wouldn't blame him at all if that's still a sore spot.

“I’m going to have a coffee, I think,” he says, getting up carefully from the sofa and heading towards the kitchen despite the pain in his torso begging him to sit down. “Do you need anything?”

Spencer’s head snaps up, suddenly back and engaged. “Uh, no, I’m alright,” he says, and he sounds almost… choked up? “I should probably get going, anyway.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Aaron says, a little surprised. His mind is too foggy with pain and grief to process the microexpressions and endlessly odd behaviours Spencer is exhibiting. He knows how much Spencer appreciates his company usually, so his leaving so soon is just wrong.

He doesn’t want him to go, he loves spending time with the younger man, and even if he is acting a little strangely, he’d much rather Spencer be with him than away from him, especially when the world seems so much more personally dangerous than it was before. At least if Spencer is close to him then he knows he’s safe, and that’s all he deserves, really. To be safe.

“Say hello to the team from me,” he says, fumbling with the door handle and awkwardly making his way out. He briefly turns back, “bye, Hotch,” before he’s closing the door behind him. Aaron can hear the plastic click of the crutches on the linoleum of the corridor as he hurries away from the apartment.

Before he can think much of it, though, he’s drawn to the couch, exhaustion overtaking his body. He’s asleep in seconds.

Eventually, he goes back to work and for a small amount of time, things seem like they’re going to be okay. Emily picks him up and takes him in, Penelope gives him homemade cookies — not that he didn’t already have an ample supply of the fruits of her kitchen waiting to be eaten in his fridge — and sure, he’s a little stressed and abrasive throughout the first case, but no-one holds it against him. It’s a little tricky when he doesn’t manage to stop Darin Call from shooting his father, but he’s calmed down by the time Emily walks him back to his apartment.

“He’s not alone,” she says as they stand in his small living room, talking about Call but looking rather pointedly in his direction. They both know what she means.

Penelope and Sam, the marshall looking after his family, help him see Jack again on his 4th birthday — granted, over one of her many computer screens — and he has to swallow down a sob at the sight of him swinging in the park, looking happy as ever. He tries to be furious at Haley for uprooting Jack again, causing them to move to a halfway house because of a few phone calls to her mother, but there’s nothing left in him. Anger at the inevitable takes energy he simply doesn’t have. It’s why he simply accepted it when the money for the counter-surveillance against Foyet ran out. Fighting seems pointless.

He does manage to get angry, though, when he finds out Spencer lied to him by telling him he was cleared to travel when he wasn’t. He’d put himself at risk for deep vein thrombosis or other complications, so he calls him out as soon as the initial debrief ends. He looks sort of relieved to be staying behind with Penelope, which is a little strange since he’s always so eager to be in the thick of the action, but he brushes it off and they get on with yet another case.

Of course, it’s significantly harder to deal with when the Bureau questions him as Unit Chief of his beloved team. He takes a step back for the sake of the team, and he’s glad he does, but things don’t feel quite so good, quite so positive. He’s suddenly following Morgan’s directions instead of giving them, no longer a leader, and it’s… humiliating.

Still, he trusts Morgan. He trusts the team in general, and they still solve cases, and they still gel together like a well-oiled machine. Things are okay. There’s still hope.

But then.

Then Karl Arnold sends him a message.

Then he agonises, fights, wrestles, swims against the current to try and save his family in time.

Then Haley dies.

🌧

Aaron thanks every god he doesn’t believe in that Jack is too little to really understand what’s happened. He knows Mommy isn’t around anymore, he knows something bad happened, that Daddy is sad, but beyond that, he has no real comprehension of the situation.

In the first days after Haley’s death, he spends a lot of time cuddled up in bed, holding Jack as close to him as he can, hugging close all he has left of his ex-wife, desperately gripping onto the one person he loves more than anything else in this world.

Once he’s cleared by the Bureau, he can at least breathe a little easier in knowing his job is safe; he can provide for his baby boy. What follows, however, is less pleasant than job security.

Watching his team cry at her funeral and seeing Haley’s family in pieces almost does him in. He’s not usually the kind of man to show emotion, but he can’t help swallowing a choked sob as he tells everyone gathered just how incredible Haley was, how lucky he and Jack and everyone who knew her were, and just how much he loved her.

“If Haley were with us today, she would ask us not to mourn her death but to celebrate her life. She would tell us… she would tell us to love our families unconditionally, and to hold them close because, in the end, they’re all that matter.”

As he reads his speech, he can’t help but think of his team. For years, they've been his second family — arguably, as much as it pains him to admit it, the family he prioritised the most — and now, they're all he and Jack have. All of them have reminded him of that over the past few days, between helping with funeral arrangements and making food for them both, constant check-ups and distractions and messages of love and support. Having his back in the moment that mattered most.

“Okay, you can go ahead,” he murmurs to Jack as he lifts him up onto his hip, the last two standing at her coffin. He watches as his son places his white rose on his mother’s coffin before following suit, stomach constricting with grief as he does so. “Blow Mommy a kiss.”

And he walks, his son clutched desperately in his arms, towards the wake.

(The team leaves the funeral, called to a case that — despite everything that’s happened — he can’t help but long to be a part of even if he knows he’d be no use right now, lost in the haze of grief and the massive life change that is suddenly being a single parent, the sole carer for his son.

He uses the time off to pack Jack’s things and move them into his own flat, trying as hard as he can to keep life as normal as possible for a little boy who just lost his mom. Actually having time to be with Jack feels like the only possible good thing to come out of this situation, and he tries to be present in the moment as much as humanly possible, grateful for every second he spends chattering away with him about the dramas and dilemmas of being four-years-old, or playing dinosaurs with him, or stroking his hair while he falls asleep.

Strauss visits, says hello to Jack, and then offers him early retirement. With a heavy heart, he promises he’ll think about it.

Jessica offers to stay with Jack while he’s away. He calls Strauss, and he declines.)

Almost as soon as the team gets back from their case in Tennessee, Spencer shows up again. This time he’s only leaning heavily on a cane instead of awkwardly wrestling against two crutches, and his brace is gone.

“Hi,” he breathes, smiling hesitantly at Hotch. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced again. This time I don’t have a dusty phone to use as an excuse, I just wanted to come as soon as possible and see how you and Jack were doing.”

“It’s fine, Spencer, don’t worry,” he says reassuringly, opening the door wide enough to allow him into the sitting room. Truthfully, he’s glad he’s turned up. Spencer’s a soothing presence; innocent, almost, in his openness and honesty, how trusting he is of everyone around him despite how hurt he’s been in the past. And while the others always scoff and groan at his academic and overly factual rambles, he’s rather fond of them.

“I don’t know if you heard,” he says as he takes a seat on Aaron’s sofa again, “but we solved the case.” His leg is clearly bothering him still: he’s subconsciously rubbing it through the fabric of his trousers and his facial expressions are showing subtle indicators of pain.

“I never doubted it,” Aaron says, face soft and open, happy to have Spencer here. He joins him on the couch. “How is it, working cases with the injury?” He wonders whether asking about work will have the same response as before, but he seems slightly calmer this time around. He hadn’t noticed anything amiss when he’d gone back, though he had, of course, been a little preoccupied; there's plenty he could have missed.

Spencer considers for a moment, looking marginally more subdued than the last time he’d sat on his sofa. “It’s… not easy, but I’m sort of used to it now. I don’t mind sitting out the fieldwork too much; besides, I get to talk to Penelope more.” He looks like he’s not saying something, averting his eyes as he talks but Aaron doesn’t push. He doesn’t want Spencer to bolt, but he makes a mental note to keep an eye on him when he eventually gets back to work again. “I heard through the grapevine that Strauss offered you retirement.”

He looks up at Aaron with wide, hesitant eyes and for a moment, his heart clenches tightly, a rush of some emotion he can’t quite place flooding his chest and squeezing the breath out of him. It’s only for a second: the moment’s over before he can actually process it, but it leaves him floundering for a response.

“I— ah, yes. She did,” he affirms, nodding his head, “but I declined.”

“You did?” Spencer asks, suddenly looking far brighter and another flash of that feeling flares in his chest.

As such, he can’t help the fond, private smile that spreads across his face. “I did.”

Spencer looks like he’s about to say something else but he’s interrupted by Jack dashing into the room, flying his toy plane around the room. As soon as he spots Spencer on the sofa, he dashes over, eager to show off his toy.

“Wow, that’s amazing, buddy,” Spencer says, looking as interested in a wooden replica of an aeroplane as an extremely well-educated adult possibly could. That’s probably because, Aaron thinks with a smile, he actually is.

Before Aaron knows it, he’s watching him be dragged towards his son’s new bedroom to inspect all his other toys. Jack has always loved Spencer and Spencer has always loved Jack, sharing a bond over an interest in all things scientific and mechanical, albeit at vastly different levels.

He hadn’t noticed how dull Spencer’s been looking until he brightens so considerably as soon as Jack is engaging with him, and his brows furrow. Trusting Jack to keep Spencer well entertained for the next few minutes, he fills a glass with water and leans against the counter of the kitchen, sipping it quietly as he thinks it over.

Now that he considers it properly, Spencer has seemed rather downcast and far quieter than usual recently. Not that he’d had the energy to address it, or even really clock it, the last time Spencer had turned up at his apartment, but his weird, abrupt departure was clearly triggered by discussion of the team. He starts to get some food out for lunch as he resolves to keep a much closer eye on things when he gets back to work.

He only thinks it over for a few more minutes before Spencer emerges into the kitchen, one hand clutching his cane and another gently holding Jack’s. He’s still bombarding him with questions about planes and trains and cars, but Spencer fields them expertly, managing to actually get an answer in before another question takes its place, a skill Aaron has yet to master. His chest clenches for the third time in the small period Spencer’s been in his flat as he watches the two together.

“Would you like to stay for lunch?” he offers, taking in Spencer’s small frame and dark eye bags; he can’t help the protective desire to feed him and make sure he’s happy and healthy.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Spencer says, looking pleased with the offer, mouth twisting into a little smile. Aaron probably shouldn’t feel quite so delighted at his acceptance, but he brushes it aside and turns to face his son, who is watching them curiously.

“Hey Jack,” he says, crouching down to face him, “how about we get you some lunch, yeah? You can continue asking Spencer some questions while we eat. How does that sound?”

Watching Jack’s face light up as he nods happily and looking up to see Spencer’s small smile still firmly pasted on his face makes him feel, for the first time since Haley died, like there’s a future for him. A good one.

Chapter Three

If this chapter brought anything up for you, hotlines are in the endnotes of the AO3 version of this fic. Bigger countries are listed and a link is included if you live somewhere else in the world. I love you all, see you next Saturday! <3

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @marvel-ous-m @oliverbrnch @sbeno22 @aaron-hotchner187 (taglist form)

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i-know-my-value-darling · 4 years

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Supernatural stars reflect on the show's undying legacy

Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, and Misha Collins discuss 15 years of fantasy, family, and flannel.

"We only get one shot at this." Sam and Dean Winchester are surrounded. The monster-hunting brothers are standing on the edge of a cliff. They look to Castiel, their brother in arms — or is it wings? — but even he can’t help. One move in the wrong direction could ruin everything. After years of fighting demons, going toe-to- toe with Satan himself, and saving the world multiple times, they once again find themselves in a position of having to perform under pressure. But this situation is unlike anything they’ve ever dealt with before. All eyes are on them as they have one shot…at getting the perfect picture.

It’s a dry, hot August day in Malibu — when people were still allowed to gather outside — as Supernatural stars Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, and Misha Collins prepare for the last setup of their final Entertainment Weekly cover shoot. With a bottle of champagne in each of their hands, Ackles once again reminds them they get “one shot” to do this right. But if their characters can shoulder the weight of the world, surely these three can handle a photo. Read the whole story below

The champagne soaking is meant to be a celebration of 15 years, of making television history. Supernatural, the story of two brothers destined to save the world, is the longest-running genre show in the history of American broadcast television. (So old, the first three seasons shot on this thing called film.) What started as an underdog story, living its first few years on the verge of cancellation, has become an institution, a milestone to which other shows aspire. Supernatural not only survived the move from The WB to The CW after its first season — it’s now the final WB show left standing — but became the backbone of the now highly successful CW network. Over the years, the sci-fi series has aired on every weeknight, helping to launch shows including Arrow and The Vampire Diaries. The network moved it one final time, most recently, to Mondays, to help Roswell, New Mexico expand its audience. “Supernatural is a major link to many of the shows that we have successfully built to market,” The CW’s chairman and CEO Mark Pedowitz says. “Almost every one of our shows has had it as a lead-out or a lead-in.”

And to think, it all started as a promise to bring horror to television. After Supernatural creator Eric Kripke had finished working with Warner Bros. on 2003’s Tarzan series, he pitched the idea of a reporter who travels around hunting urban legends. As he puts it, it was a Kolchak: The Night Stalker rip-off. But when he realized the story would benefit from having brothers at its core, he started writing. “At the time, The Ring and The Grudge were huge hits in theaters,” Kripke remembers. “We said, ‘We’re going to take that experience and we’re going to put it on TV,’ and the initial goal was to be scary.” After Warner Bros. passed on his first, what he calls “uptight,” draft, Kripke had to reassess the kind of show he was creating. “I canceled all my Christmas plans and wrote that second draft in three weeks,” he says. “That was when the show got its sense of humor, because I was locked alone, over winter break, in my office. I couldn’t do anything fun, so I started entertaining myself.”

The show was still scary, but it was also funny and, over the years, would continue to evolve. Sure, you could say it’s a little bit X-Files — in its early days, the show often used the line “The X-Files meets Route 66” — and there were definite Star Wars influences (Sam and Dean were originally based on Luke Skywalker and Han Solo). But no combination of pop culture is going to perfectly describe Supernatural because the show has managed to do something remarkably rare in the age of peak TV, where audiences are so overwhelmed with content that an original idea seems foreign: It’s created a truly one-of- a-kind experience.

For starters, it’s a show about two flannel-wearing, beer-loving, blue-collar dudes from Kansas who for a good chunk of their lives traveled from cheap motel to cheap motel, paying for gas and greasy diner food with a mix of fake credit cards and money they earned scamming people at the pool table. “Almost all television is about rich people or, at the very least, middle-class people,” co-showrunner Andrew Dabb says. “The fact that we’ve been able to take this Midwestern blue-collar approach to this genre feels like we’re breaking the mold.”

But the mold-breaking didn’t stop there. Supernatural might’ve started out as a horror show with some snarky one-liners, but it evolved into some of the boldest, most experimental (and certainly strangest) stories on the small screen. “We’re a show of big swings,” co-showrunner Robert Singer says. “I used to say, with every idea, ‘This will be a home run or they’ll cancel us,’ but every year we wanted to do something really nuts." And when he says nuts, we’re not just talking about the episode with the talking teddy bear or the murderer targeting imaginary friends. Those are just some standard monsters of the week. We’re talking about the black-and-white episode shot like a classic Hollywood monster movie, or the episode that introduced Chuck (Rob Benedict), a prophet — who’d later reveal himself to be God — who was famous for writing a book series called Supernatural. That, of course, led to Sam and Dean attending a Supernatural fan convention as the show continued to redefine what it meant to inject a series with meta humor. And the swings never stopped. Season 13 featured a Scooby-Doo crossover as an animated Sam, Dean, and Castiel solved a case alongside the Mystery Inc. gang. And in season 14, after giving God a sister a few years prior, the show made the Big Man Himself its final villain. “I don’t think any idea, barring some production concerns, has been viewed as too crazy,” Dabb says. “Because we know that our fans are smart and that they’ll follow these guys anywhere.”

So long as each episode features Sam and Dean — and the occasional heartfelt talk on the hood of the Impala — the show can do just about anything, which is another reason Kripke had to rewrite his first draft of the pilot. Originally, Dean was the only brother who knew about monsters growing up, bringing Sam up to speed later in life. It wasn’t until Kripke figured out that they needed to be in this together that the series snapped into place. Because at the end of it all, they’re two brothers bonded by the loss of their mother and a life spent on the road with an absentee father. (It just so happens that their mother was killed by a demon and their father hunted them.) The familial dynamic — the irrational codependency, as the angel Zachariah (Kurt Fuller) once called it — is the most important part of the show. “The first inkling I had that we had something special was shooting the pilot,” Kripke says. “It was the scene on the bridge when Sam and Dean talk about their mother. It was the first time that you really saw their chemistry and their connection as brothers on full display. Because I’ve always said this show begins and ends with whether you believe that sibling relationship.” But Sam and Dean weren’t just the center of the show. For many years, they were the show.

Supernatural has never been an ensemble drama. For the first 82 hours of the series, Ackles and Padalecki were the only long-running series regulars — Katie Cassidy and Lauren Cohan briefly joined for season 3, appearing in 12 episodes combined. But Sam and Dean weren’t just in every episode; they anchored every episode. (They skipped table reads because there would’ve been only two actors there.) “I had many moments of not only questioning, ‘Can I keep this up?’ but an answer of ‘I cannot keep this up,’ ” Padalecki, 37, who’s been vocal about his struggle in the early seasons, says. “I borrowed strength from Jensen.” But even Ackles, 42, admits it was a tough job. “The 23-episode seasons were nine and a half months of filming,” he adds. “It was a lot of work, but I always came back to: I still enjoy it, I still like telling the story, I still like these characters and the people I work with.”

Not only did the guys stick around, they built a reputation of having created one of the warmest sets in the business, with a number of crew members staying with the production all 15 seasons. It all dates back to a talk Kripke had with his stars during the filming of the series’ second episode. “I said, ‘The show is about your two characters, and with that comes this responsibility,’ ” Kripke says. Padalecki remembers the exact setting of what he calls their “Good Will Hunting moment,” a bench in Stanley Park in Vancouver, where they film. It was a chat both actors took to heart. “We’d both been on other sets,” Ackles says. “We knew we wanted to enjoy it, to have fun with our crew; we wanted them to like us and us to like them and to have fun doing what we do.” It’s an attitude Pedowitz hopes bleeds into other CW shows, an attitude that launched an annual tradition where the CW chairman/CEO takes his new casts out to dinner with the Supernatural guys, a chance for the vets to share advice. “It’s always the most flattering situation,” Padalecki says, recalling a moment he had a few years back with the late Luke Perry, who was a part of the Riverdale cast. “Luke was sitting next to me and he was like, ‘What y’all have done and what we hear about you guys, it’s really cool to be associated with y’all in some way, shape, or form,’” he recalls. “And I’m sitting there pinching myself.”

It’s a behind-the-scenes legacy that’s perhaps just as impressive, if not more so, than the onscreen legacy. Collins, 45, who started as a guest star and the show’s first angel in season 4, has become the show’s third-longest-running series regular, and he still remembers walking onto set his first day. “When you’re coming onto a show as a guest star, it can be a little bit nerve-racking,” Collins says. “Coming to this set, it was an immediately different vibe. Think- ing about working on other shows in the future, that’s something that I aspire to bring with me.”

A similar reputation extends to the fans as well. Not only is the #SPNFamily one of the most dedicated fandoms out there, it’s also known to be a pretty nice one. (Not many fandoms can say they’ve helped launch a crisis support network for their fellow fans.) But their dedication isn’t just about seeing what crazy twist God throws at Team Free Will next. Thanks to fan conventions and social media, the viewers are just as invested in the lives of the actors. Supernatural’s not just about the words on the page, it’s about the actors saying them. “When you’re dealing with the public taste, there’s an alchemy of great writing, a great idea, and the close-up that’s required,” Peter Roth, chairman of Warner Bros. Television Group, says. “You need stars who you want in your living room.” And you need stars who want to be in your living room, and who, even after 15 years, care so deeply that they get emotional while taking photos in Malibu.

"It's going to be a long eight months," Ackles declares. Standing on that same ledge, an hour before the champagne shot, Ackles, Padalecki, and Collins walk away from a group hug after unexpectedly starting to tear up. It might be the setting — looking out over the ocean — or the occasion: their last-ever photo shoot. Or maybe it’s the fact that they’re almost a month into filming their final season.

It had been a question posed to the stars for years: How long will this show continue? How long can it continue? “Even my mom and dad were like, ‘When are you going to be done with this?’” Ackles says with a laugh. It was a decision the network and studio had ultimately put into the actors’ hands, and it was a conversation they’d been having for a while. Back in 2016, Padalecki told EW, “If we don’t make it to [episode] 300, I think Ackles and I will both be truly bummed.” But in season 14, they hit 300…and then kept going. While filming episode 307, they announced the upcoming 15th season would be the end, which will bring them to a total of 327 episodes when all is said and done. “[Jared] and I were always married to the fact that we never wanted to go out with a diet version of what we had,” Ackles says. “We wanted to have enough gas left in the tank to get us racing across the finish line. We didn’t want to limp across.” Padalecki remembers the moment it hit him — not the decision to end it, but rather the opposite. “We had that moment where he and I both realized that we didn’t want it to end,” he says. “It finally got to a point, ironically, where it was like, ‘I never want to leave this. I could do this until the day I die, and then if I get the choice when I’m dead, I’ll re-up!’ But you never want to be the last person at a party. We just knew. That’s not to say there haven’t been vacillations, but we all trust the decision that was made.”

Starting in July 2019, the cast and crew returned to Vancouver to begin filming the final season, but in March 2020, with two episodes left to go, they were sent home. For years, fans had wondered what, if anything, could stop the Winchesters, and now it seems we have the answer: a global pandemic. As sets closed amid social-distancing measures due to the spread of COVID-19, it didn’t take long for fans to start connecting the dots, sharing relevant GIFs from episodes that featured viruses, most notably Chuck telling Dean to hoard toilet paper “like it’s made of gold” before the end of the world in season 5’s “The End.” (Did we mention that Supernatural is also kind of psychic? In a season 6 episode, Dean calls Sam “Walker, Texas Ranger,” which just so happens to be the role Padalecki has lined up after this ends.)

When production paused, it all felt a little like we were living in an episode of the show, just waiting for Sam and Dean to drive up in Baby, open those creaky doors, and save us. They might not be able to do quite that, but the thing with the Winchesters is that they never stay down for long. When Supernatural is able to safely resume production, it will. And though there are only two episodes left to film, fans will enjoy a total of seven unseen hours, including the return of Charlie (Felicia Day) and a mystery woman who visits the bunker and, for some reason, gives Sam and Dean all the holidays they never got to celebrate. “She makes Christmas for them and Thanksgiving, birthday parties, and all that. It’s a very good episode,” Singer says, adding, “I don’t know when it’s going to air.”

That’s the thing—no one knows, not even the guys who took out Yellow Eyes, stopped Leviathans, defeated Death himself, and are supposedly destined to be the messengers of God’s destruction. But Sam and Dean do know the value of a good plan B. “Obviously it’s a horribly unfortunate situation we’re in, but the silver lining is that it gives us an opportunity to recharge,” Ackles says. “We had just finished episode 18, we shot one day of episode 19, and I was reading these two monster scripts thinking, ‘It’s like we’re at the end of a marathon and they want us to sprint for the last two miles.’ I feel like this almost gives us an opportunity to refocus and go into the last two episodes and hit them with everything we got.” Because when they do return to set, shave their quarantine beards, and step back into Sam and Dean’s shoes for the last time, they’ll have one shot at ending this thing…and they’re determined not to miss.

Photos: Peggy Sirota for EW

https://ew.com/tv/supernatural-stars-cover-ew-to-reflect-on-the-shows-undying-legacy/

#supernatural #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #misha collins #last season #season 15 #entertainment weekly #cover story #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #full post #SPN #spn family #new photo #new photos

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waywardimpalawriter · 3 years

Note

May I request a Dean x reader imagine where he finds out she's really ticklish. He chases her around the bunker and when he catches her he tortures her. xoxoxo

Revenge of the pinched

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Fluff and nothing but the fluff

Word count: 1,741

Summary: Dean gets his revenge when stumbling upon a little secret you’ve been keeping from him.

Notes: Kind of a squeal to “Pinched”

Dean Tag List: @akshi8278

“Though you said we were even? That there’d be no punishment for the crime,” taking a few more steps backwards, glancing over your shoulder twice to make sure no chairs or tables are in your path of retreat.

Fighting to keep the smirk from tugging at his lips whiskey flecked green eyes trained on you. “Oh sweetheart never said nothing about no punishment for all the pinching you gave me last month. Just haven’t had the time to think about what sort of punishment fits the crime.”

“But… but it was all in good fun Dean and we made up that night remember,” flirty smile lifting your lips in remembrance of the hours spend making up.

Tsking this time a full blown smirk graces those kissable lips, your own eyes widening at the look on his handsome face. “I remember baby girl, but that was pleasure not punishment.” Taking another few steps towards you noticing the table capturing you from behind as he cages you from the front. Arms pressing on either side to lean in his lips against your ear breath ghosting the shell. “I’m a merciful man sweetheart and promise not to torture you severally,” brushing one hand up your side.

Making you squirm away from his hand bitting your plush bottom lip to trap the sounds behind the closed seam. Knowing if you let the secret slip out there’ll be no end to the torment the eldest Winchester will inflict upon your person. However, Dean isn’t the world class hunter for nothing and he picks up on the slight movements of your body. Fingers whispering over your cotton covered side pressing just a fraction deeper. Garnering wiggles from your frame, trying to maneuver away from those nimble questing fingers.

“Don’t Dean,” forcing your teeth deeper to keep the squeak from escaping, trying to edge yourself from between his hard hot body and the table.

Brow tipping upward at the response, wicked gleam entering his eyes. “Don’t want sweetheart?” Intensionally brushing over your side interested in the way your body wiggles against his. Purely for the fact he’s not trying to make it sexual but teasing not knowing you’ve always been ticklish. Using his other hand to move alone your left side finding the truth he’s searching for in the squeak you let out. “Oh baby girl why didn’t you tell me your were ticklish?” Devilish smirk tipping his lips up. Both hands working against your squirming body, musical laughter bubbling up and warming Dean’s heart.

“We eat there please don’t defile that table by having sex on it,” deep annoyed voice coming from the left. Arms crossed over impressive muscular chest Sam rolls those expressive soft green eyes. “Y’all got rooms take it there.”

Mouthing a quick thank you for Sam to furrows his brows watching as you push Dean away and take off running through the bunker. Pausing to kiss Sam’s cheek then heading towards the rooms, “You’ve saved me from the tickle monster,” nodding over your shoulder at Dean.

Who’s still as a marble statue, though there’s a smile on his face that’s rarely seen. Genuine mirth dances through his eyes, crinkles at the corner youthful and carefree when he turns towards you and Sam. “This time he’s saved you baby girl,” straighten to full height intent clearing written. “You’ll not be so luck once I capture you.”

Bitting the inside of his cheek, “You two are a mess you know that?” Even as those words leave his lips, Sam steps in front of you blocking Dean’s path. As the eldest Winchester starts to eat up the distance between you. “That being said I can’t let you tickle our poor Y/N to death.” Looking over his shoulder, “I warned you, five second head start,” tossing you an amused smirk.

“Thanks bro,” peeking around Sam to childishly stick your tongue at Dean. Squeaking when he playfully lunging at you but the Great Wall of Sam blocks his path and gives the advantage to you. Taking off down the hallways and deeper into the bunker, laughter echoing off the walls.

Shaking his head, “Betrayal at the highest level Sammy how could you? I thought we were brothers?”

“We are but I like Y/N better,” stepping aside, deep full belly chuckle leaving his lips at the fake shocked look on Dean’s face.

Hand to heart, “You wound me little brother, wound me,” landing a good slug to Sam’s right shoulder before taking off after you. “I know where you sleep Sammy, expect payback.”

“So fucking predictable Dean,” shaking his shaggy brown hair, laughter tickling his belly at their antics. Given the last couple years of their lives a moment of happiness shared within the walls of their home brings a smile to Sam’s lips. Memories to be cherished and looked back upon when those inevitable dark times return to suck the life from all of them.

“You know it little brother,” finger pistols shooting towards Sam before disappearing around the corner. Silently stalking the halls listening for foot falls and giggles. When none meet his ears his smile falls for a moment replaced by serious concentration picking up on hard panting just a few doors down.

With the stealth born of decades fighting everything that goes bump in the night, Dean slinks down the hall trying not to give himself away. Cursing playfully when the top of your head peeks out to check and you dart out from the room. “There’s no place to hide sweetheart I will find out.”

“Never Winchester, I’ll never surrender to you. You’ll have to catch me first,” voice floating back towards him.

Transfixed for a moment while watching you move swiftly away, heart hammering for a different reason though for now he pushes those thoughts away. “Don’t be to cocky baby girl remember who you’re talking to.”

Rounding the next corner you pause, leaning out to lock eyes with the hunter of your dreams. “Don’t you get cocky Deano, remember I still managed to sneak up on you last month quite a few times.”

“That’s because I let you woman,” smirking for a moment till he sees your expression fall, then cursing himself for partly lying.

First couple of times you had surprised him with the pinches. Never expecting something so playful but then again he should’ve from your sweetness. In the field your badass taking down monsters beside himself and Sam. With the proficiency he’s rarely seen in older seasoned hunters. Alone surrounded by the family is a complete 360. Caring to the point you’ll lay your own life down for anyone of them. Feeding, mending wounds and making them all smile like now. Pesky thoughts make another appearance, his heart beating triple time with the revelation those rumination’s bring.

Seeing he’s paused eyes unfocused you take the chance to step back around the corner. “You lie Winchester, I know better than that. I snuck up on you at least half a dozen times.”

Voice breaking through as a smirk tips his plush lips upward, “You sure sweetheart?” Slow and careful, he takes steps towards you.

Your own feet taking a few backwards, “Positive Deano, the first two for starters.” Seeing the truth written in those much loved whiskey flecked green eyes. “Third one too,” the nod from him confirming your assumptions. You’re lost in thought for far too long and Dean’s made his way closer.

Fingers reaching out to nab the ends of your shirt, tugging you closer. Only to curse, a high pitched giggle leaving your lips as you take off down the hall. “Run while you can little rabbit I will catch you.” Deep chuckle adding to your giggles as he chases after you. Trapping you in a dead end with no where to escape, “Look what we have here.”

Hands up to fend off Dean’s attack, pleading look in your eyes, back flat against the wall behind you, “Now Dean baby you know the pinches were all in good fun right? Surely they didn’t hurt.”

“So is tickling you sweetheart,” stopping just in front of you hands on either side of your body. “And here I thought I knew everything about you.”

Swallowing harshly, “I kept it a secret,” voice catches at the first brushes of his teasing fingers against your side. Body jerking to the side to get away from those nimble questing fingers. “For this reason,” another giggle leaves at the attack from your right side.

Fingers flying over your body making you squirm trying to get away. Breath lodging in your throat accompanied by the giggle that’s trapped. Dodging one hand only to back into the other. Your own hands pushing him away but failing miserably. “Please,” gasping for air, laughter escaping as you wiggle against him.

“Please what sweetheart?” Pausing for a moment to let you gain breath before attaching your sides again. Wrapping one arm around your waist to haul you against him. Questing fingers finding the little patch at the small of your back that makes you arch into him. Dropping lower to brush over the backs of your knees deep chuckle pulled from his chest when your squirm away from him. “Ah I do believe I’ve found more spots on you baby girl.”

Breathless, “You’re a brute Dean Winchester.” Trying to keep the pout on your lips failing when he attacks your side making more laughter erupt from your chest.

“Ah but I’m your brute,” stopping for a moment Dean steps back letting you think he’s given up. But in actuality he’s planning. Setting the idea in motion by tossing you over his shoulder tickling the spot behind your knee and making you squeal. “Do you give up?”

Gripping his waist to keep from sliding down his backside, “Never.” Swallowing when he turns and starts the long strides towards his room. Quickly eating up the distance much to you chargin. “Put me down Winchester right now.” Demanding tone does nothing to slow his pace nor put you down. Neither does the sound smack you add to his ass.

“I always knew you liked my ass baby girl,” landing a smack of his own, fingers teasing along the new found tickle spot while striding into his room and dropping you in bed. “I put you down sweetheart,” teasing smile on his lips. Kicking the door closed with his booted foot. “Now I’m gonna see how many tickle spots you have.”

#dean winchester fic #request #fluffy fic #Dean Winchester x F!Reader #Supernatural fiction #my baby Dean Winchester

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 4 years

Text

reputations part two

part one

summary: you’re determined to make Matt see that you’re not too good for him.

warnings: mentions of alcohol

word count: 3.2k

note from the writer: sorry for everything I put you guys through with the first part, I hope this makes up for it :)

You hated that you were such a good person.

Maybe if you weren’t such a people-pleaser, you would’ve been able to cut Matt out of your life. Maybe you would have been able to call him on his bullshit when he said you couldn’t be happy with him. But instead, you both were acting as if that night on your front lawn never happened.

And you sure as hell weren’t happy without him.

At the end of summer, you ended up going back to Calgary the same time Matt needed to, so with the help of the Tkachuks, minus Brady who went off to Ottawa a week earlier, you moved into your new apartment within a day.

You were certain that your families knew something had happened between you and Matt, you weren’t joking with each other as often and you really weren’t as touchy-feely with each other as before. That was probably the biggest indicator that something was wrong, and your mom pulled you aside halfway through the summer to see if anything was wrong. You forced a smile onto your face, assuring her everything was fine and it was just the stress of getting a new job and moving to a different country that was getting to you.

And if you weren’t such a good person, you probably wouldn’t have found yourself squished between Johnny Gaudreau and Sam Bennett at some dive bar at midnight a few months into the season.

You met his teammates over the years when you would visit with Matt’s family or come up on your own for a weekend when you were still in college, and now that you lived in Calgary, it was decided that you were to be invited out to bars with them whenever they met up. There was an obvious tension between you and Matt, but none of them seemed to care as a group of you shoved into one tiny booth. Noah and Elias had offered to pick up drinks at the bar for the table, leaving you sitting between Johnny and Sam with Matt sitting on the opposite side.

“So have you met any guys since you’ve been here?” Johnny asked you with a smug grin and you wondered if it was intentional because Sam chuckled and Matt made a sound as if he was choking on air.

“Uh, haven’t really been looking.” You told him with a forced smile. You kept the part about how you were waiting for Matt to come to his senses to yourself, but from the way the curly haired boy in question was studying the table intently you gathered he picked up on the hidden meaning of your words.

“Well, when you come to the game tomorrow, I’ve got an extra Bennett jersey you can wear.” Now you knew for a fact that they were doing it on purpose, because as he spoke, Sam’s gaze didn’t leave Matt and he was smirking. Johnny laughed loudly as Matt’s head whipped up, his eyes narrowed at his blonde teammate.

“No!” He said a little too quickly. You raised a brow at him, but he tilted his head back with a groan. “No, she can only wear my jersey, it’s good luck.”

“Because you’re really superstitious.” Noah teased sarcastically as he and Elias reappeared with drinks in hand. You couldn’t help the way the corner of your lips turned up at the fact that his teammates were onto his ridiculous behavior. Matt was never one for intricate rituals before games, but one thing he always made sure of whenever you went to see him play was that you wore one of his jerseys. But if he was going to be childish, then so were you.

“You know what, Sam, I think I just might take you up on that.” You joined in, taking a swig of the drink Elias placed in front of you as you gauged Matt’s reaction. He looked shocked, and you immediately regretted your words as he silently looked down at the bottle of beer Noah had pressed into his hands moments earlier.

Elias changed the topic of conversation soon after, and you were thankful for the distraction. You sipped your drink silently, much quieter than you probably would be and Matt barely said a word. And when he slipped out of the booth to get himself a refill, you followed after, shooting Johnny a sympathetic smile for leaving halfway through his story.

You made a mental note to apologize to him later, but at the moment Matt was your priority. He always was, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Hey, Matty.” You tried, bringing back the nickname that you hadn’t used in a while. It felt different on your tongue all the while feeling the same, like you should have been calling him that this whole time. He glanced at you and quickly returned his attention to the bar, but when you reached a hand out to squeeze his forearm and he turned to face you, you knew you had his attention. “I was just kidding, earlier, you know.”

“I guess.” He huffed, shrugging his shoulders as if it wasn’t a huge deal and that it wasn’t affecting him so blatantly. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what you were talking about, you could see in his eyes and in the slump of his shoulders that he was still thinking about your throwaway comment to Sam about his jersey. You pouted at his response, and took a sip of your drink as you thought about what to say to convince him.

But you didn’t have to, because there was a commotion behind you, and when you turned to see what was going on you were faced with a guy clearly not taking no for an answer, bothering some poor girl. Before you could even think to intercede, Matt’s large frame slid into view and he was shoving the creep off the girl.

You asked her if she was okay, and when her only response was a trembling lip and glassy eyes you grabbed her hand to lead her to the bathroom to get her some space and time to compose herself. On your way through the crowd, you shot a glance over your shoulder to find Matt in the face of the creep, making sure that he didn’t follow you and the girl.

You wondered how he thought he wasn’t a good person.

The boiling point came a few days later.

It was late at night and after a game that hadn’t gone in the favor of the Flames, and you weren’t sure what exactly had set you off, but you stormed into Matt’s apartment building furious and on a mission. Maybe it was that fact that his mom had called you that afternoon to check up on you or the fact that his words from all those months ago when you had kissed him had been bouncing around in your head relentlessly. But it all fell into place somehow and you found yourself knocking on his door without giving him any prior warning that you would be coming over. You knew he would be home sulking after a loss like the one he had just suffered, because you knew him.

You knew he hated the way you made your coffee and that he loved getting under your skin just to hear you whine his name with a smile to try and get him to stop. You knew he was just as much of a romantic as you were but didn’t like to admit it and that he was insecure about his ability to live up to his dad’s legacy. When Danny Baker from three streets up told Matt that he would never be in the NHL, you punched him.

You probably did more damage to your hand than to his face, but the thought was there.

“You don’t get to do this to me, Matthew.” You huffed before he could get a word in as soon as his front door opened. His eyes went wide and you could tell he knew you meant business. You couldn’t remember the last time you had called him by his full name, let alone shown up on his doorstep angry.

“I—” He started, but you shook your head, brushing past him and storming inside his apartment. You were upset, and frustrated, and just needed to vent your feelings to someone. And who better than the person that put you in the situation in the first place?

“You don’t get to decide whether or not you deserve me or whatever bullshit excuse you came up with. I decide. It’s my choice.” You were pacing his kitchen now, and after your initial burst of anger, you were slowing. “Matt, if you don’t like me, just say it. Don’t feed me lines to try and let me down easy. I’ve earned that after all these years.”

“I like you. I really, really, like you. But—” The desperation in your voice spurred him to answer, but it wasn’t the one you wanted. You had a feeling you knew what the answer was. Brady had teased him for years about liking you and neither boy knew the definition of subtle.

“No bullshit, Matthew. Yes or no?” You huffed, wanting a straight answer. You were tired of wondering, tired of spending an hour each night before falling asleep whether or not things could be different. You just needed to know.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.” His quiet words had you pushing off the counter you were leaning against and crossing the kitchen. You shoved aside the warm feeling you got when he said he’s in love with you and instead tried to focus on the moment, knowing that what you said next was crucial towards how your relationship pans out.

“I can’t be happy without you, Matt. I don’t care about your reputation. When are you going to learn that?” Your feet carried you to stand before him, one hand cupping his jaw while the other curved around the back of his neck. His hands came to rest on your waist on instinct, and you hesitated under the vulnerability in his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment earlier. “I know you, the real you. I don’t care what the media says, and I certainly don’t listen to a word that comes out of Doughty or Kassian’s mouths.”

Your comment about his known rivals had him chuckling, and you tentatively smiled as he dropped his head down so his forehead rested against yours. Your heart was racing, and you felt as if you were getting somewhere.

“I was an ass, huh?” He settled on saying with a breathy chuckle. His blue eyes bore into yours, and though you weren’t sure what he was searching for you knew he only found truth and love. You shook your head slightly, the movement only detectable because of your proximity but it was enough to get your message across.

“You were insecure, Matt, which is fine. You’re allowed to be. But you need to talk to me, especially about something like this.” You told him, thumb brushing across his cheek as you spoke. He took a moment to think about your words, and you gave him all the time he needed. You were familiar with the feeling of being uncertain of yourself, and how uncomfortable it was to feel as if you weren’t good enough. You could only hope that Matt was able to seem himself the way you saw him.

“Okay.” He mumbled after a moment, dropping his head to the crook of your neck while pulling you fully into his chest. One of your hands threaded into the curls at the back of his head while the other wrapped around his middle, holding him in place.

“Yeah?” You hummed into his chest, pressing a kiss there through the fabric of his shirt. He nodded, and you felt more than saw the action. You tugged on his hair after a moment, signalling for him to lift his head up. When he did, you pressed a kiss to his jaw, and then the corner of his mouth, before finally landing on his lips with a content sigh.

It was slower than the first time you kissed on your front lawn. Back then you were rushed and excited from landing the job in Calgary and confessing how you felt for him. Now, it was slow and calculated, and you were savoring every moment, trying to convey to him just how much he meant to you.

“Stay the night?” Matt asked, and it was easy for you to say yes. It was late, and you were exhausted from both a hard day at work and your outburst of anger. Matt smiled tiredly when you nodded, pressing one last lazy kiss to your lips before leading you by your hand towards his bedroom.

He kissed you as he handed you one of his shirts to sleep in and kissed once more as you slipped out of his bathroom after changing. You kissed him as soon as he laid down, and again as you climbed in beside him. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you were sharing lazy and slow kisses like your life depended on it.

“I should have just talked to you.” Matt spoke quietly into the dark a few minutes after you had settled in to sleep. You felt the vibrations of his chest when he talked from where you were laying half draped across him, and it was oddly comforting. You chuckled at his statement, and since you grew up with Matthew and Brady and Keith, you couldn’t help your next comment.

“You’re not getting an argument from me, Matty.”

—

“Matt, your girlfriend is outside.” Brady teased, shoving his brother’s shoulder playfully. Matt shot up from where he was seated at the kitchen island, ignoring his family’s jabs at how eager he was to see you, despite the fact that not only two hours ago you had been in their kitchen helping Chantal make a few dishes for the barbeque the Tkachuks were throwing later in the day.

He really couldn’t argue his family’s comments now.

Matt grinned when he spotted you sunning in your yard like always. He bought you a twelve pack of sunscreen as a joke for your birthday, and you rolled your eyes at him in the way that he found absolutely adorable. He made his way to the fence, cataloging your appearance. Speaker to your left, sunglasses on your nose, and his favorite swimsuit of yours on.

You grinned the moment you heard the Tkachuks back door open and shut, knowing it was Matt. You could feel his eyes on your body, the same way you always did whenever he caught you tanning. You wondered how he ever thought he was being subtle before you got together. Now, he got to openly admire you, and he did often.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Matt called over the fence, making you snort. Over the course of your relationship, you had learned that he was big on complimenting you. And you would be the last person to complain about it.

“Hey, Matty.” You called back, pushing yourself up and leaning back on your hands. For a second, Matt didn’t respond, only watched you with a grin on his face. You raised a brow at him, questioning him silently and that seemed to spur him on.

“C’mere.” Matt nodded with his head in his direction, and that was all it took for you to stand to your feet and cross the short distance to the fence. He was leaning with his forearms across it, head resting on his chin. You pushed yourself up to your tip-toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before settling back down on flat feet. Matt hummed in content, his eyes staying closed a second or two longer after the kiss ended and you admired what the summer sun did to your boyfriend.

“I can’t believe that we could have been doing that since middle school.” Matt joked, and you rolled your eyes.

“We could’ve been doing that all last summer, too, if you had just talked to me.” You chirped, unable to let the opportunity pass through your fingertips.

“You’re going to hold that over me until the day I die, huh?” He groaned playfully, pouting his lips for another kiss you couldn’t help but give him. You agreed with a hum and a teasing grin, feeling nothing but love through your whole body under your boyfriend’s gaze. Before you could respond, your phone started ringing from where you left it on your towel.

Matt, ever the gentleman, admired the roses your mom had planted the week before as you bent over to pick up the device, but also was a simple man in love, and couldn’t help it if his gaze landed on you for a moment.

You ignored him, checking the number that was calling you to see a Calgary area code. Matt watched you as you answered, grinning to himself when he saw your wide smile. He listened to you thank whoever was on the line profusely, and after you bid them goodbye and hung up you squealed in excitement. Matt chuckled as you bounded over to him, grabbing his face with both your hands and pulling him over the edge of the fence to connect your lips.

“We got the house.” You mumbled against his lips and Matt pulled back with a surprised look on his face, though he was still smiling because he was with you, and there was no way he could not smile when you were looking at him with the utmost love in your eyes.

“You’re serious?” And though Matt spent nearly his entire life thankful for the fence between his yard and yours, there was nothing more than it that he hated in that moment. He held up one finger, as if to tell you to hold one for a minute, before he took a step back and hopped over the fence.

“Matthew!” You chided, because the fence was just tall enough that he shouldn’t be doing that, but you weren’t given the chance to tell him that because he was sweeping you into his arms for a hug.

“Can you tell my mom we’re moving in together?” He mumbled into the crook of your neck. You pulled back, looking at him with a confused expression. You were certain that he had told Chantal already, but from the sheepish grin he was giving you, you realized he was being serious.

“You haven’t told her?” You sighed, exasperated but in good fun. Instead of responding right away, Matt ducked his head down to press his lips to yours for a quick kiss. Though he was usually a pretty good distraction, this was different. “Matt, we just bought a house.”

“I don’t want her to call me soft.” He was joking, but you rolled your eyes at him nonetheless. Matt closed his eyes in content as you ran your fingers through his curls. The way he was acting was completely contradictory towards what he had just said, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“You are soft, Matty.” He chuckled, though he couldn’t argue.

He never could argue when it came to you.

#matthew tkachuk #Matthew tkachuk imagine #Matthew tkachuk imagines #Matthew tkachuk x reader #calgary flames #calgary flames imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #nhl #NHL imagine

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