#if you don’t like Sam fine I guess but this is a child

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

No Such Thing As Monsters

Summary: Dean is injured on a hunt and at first glance, appears to be fine. Quickly though, the reader and Sam learn something far more serious is going on...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,200ish

Warnings: language, injury

“Dean,” you said, shaking on his shoulder, his eyes flashing open, fist tightening around his angel blade. “You’re okay. Sam took care of the ghoul. How’re you doing?”

“I feel like I just went through a wall,” he said, shakily getting to his feet, cocking his head at the damaged sheetrock in front of him. “Looks like I did.”

“You sure you okay?” you asked, his head nodding. “Sam’s driving us home, just in case.”

“No arguments from me,” he said, giving Sam a nod when he showed up, following his brother the few blocks over to where you’d parked Baby. Dean grabbed the passenger door, slamming his hand on the roof.

“Dean...” said Sam. Dean scrunched up his face, placing a hand on his head. “Dean.”

“Take me to a hospital,” gritted out Dean, your eyes wide. “Now.”

“What’s wrong?” you said, shoving him in the backseat instead, climbing in beside him as Sam started gunning it for the closest one.

“My head. Something’s wrong. I don’t...just hurry.”

Eight Hours Later

Your excuse of Dean taking a hard fall worked with the doctors but you and Sam were staring at one another after finally getting to see Dean again.

“Let’s talk outside,” said the neurologist, Dean giving you a smile as you followed her out.

“What is wrong with my brother, Sally?” asked Sam the second the door to Dean’s room was shut. 

“Retrograde amnesia as far as I can tell. He remembers certain things like his name, date of birth, address when he was a child. You’re lucky I was on call tonight to take his case. Neuro patients are hard enough, especially one’s that are hunters and have to lie about everything,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Sally, amnesia...isn’t that supposed to fade after a few hours at most?” asked Sam.

“Normally,” she said, taking a deep breath. “My best guess is a combination of lasting amnesia which will be hard to recover from but we can help him...and then he’s repressing all the hunting without realizing. You guys have seen some serious crap I’m sure he’d rather forget.”

“What do you mean repressing?” you asked. 

“I mean, Dean thinks monsters are made up, creatures from stories. He doesn’t know they’re real,” she said. You raised an eyebrow, Sam shaking his head. “He doesn’t remember the ghoul, he doesn’t remember the Vamp you guys took care of for me years ago. Monsters aren’t real to him,” said Sally.

“He’s known monsters were real his whole life,” said Sam.

“Technically, since he was four, almost five,” said Sally. “There was a time when he didn’t think any of this was real so it is possible.”

“You’re telling me Dean thinks he’s five?” you said. “He’s in his thirties.”

“He doesn’t think he’s five. He just doesn’t remember certain things. Like he understands basic long term memories, who his parents are, who Sam is...more recent things he’s blocked out,” she said. “Either by choice or because he really can’t remember.”

“Does he remember me? I only started running with the guys about five years ago,” you said.

“He knows your name and that he loves you but that’s about it. The details are all fuzzy for him. Now Dean’s not exactly what I’d call a normal patient. He’ll get thrown in an institute if he starts remembering here in a hospital and God knows what’ll happen to him in there,” she said.

“What do we do then?” asked Sam, Sally sighing and grabbing a chart from the nurses station.

“He has no bleeding in his head, just a few minor cuts and bruises from his tussle. Take him home, try to get him to remember. Any problems and you guys call me. I’ll get you some materials that help sometimes,” she said.

“What if he doesn’t remember?” said Sam.

“Then he doesn’t. Either way, you need to be there for him. You guys gotta get going. The other neurologist starts his shift in an hour and he’s going to want to look at Dean if he’s still here.”

Dean was quiet on the way home, sitting in the backseat, leaning against the backdoor as he stared out the window. Sam simply went through the motions, making him dinner, sending him to bed after checking his bandages, Dean wearing a confused but happy smile the whole time. 

“Y/N,” said Sam, catching you sipping on a drink the library, stealing the bottle to pour himself some.

“What are we going to do Sam?” you asked. “He’s...”

“Do you remember when I saved you from that fire? You promised you’d do anything I wanted. Anything. I told you maybe someday I’d take you up on it. We both know I was never going to but this...I’m cashing that favor in, Y/N,” he said, taking a long swig.

“Using a spell to get his memories back might be dangerous, Sam,” you said, earning a head shake.

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the fact that my big brother thinks the world is normal. The weight of it isn’t on his shoulders anymore. He’s so light and happy. You’re gonna pack up his stuff, pack up your stuff, and you’re going to take him to a little cabin that used to be Bobby’s. It’s not that far out in the boonies so you’ll have electricity and internet and then...you’re gonna help him get a job, get a job yourself and you two are going to get the hell out of this life,” he said.

“Sam that is not-”

“You’re doing this. If something comes after you, you can protect him. Try it for me. If he starts to remember on his own, come back but please, give it a try.”

Two Days Later

“I thought we lived at the bunker place?” asked Dean, sitting down at your new kitchen table, watching you whip up an easy dinner. 

“We live here now,” you said, stirring the pot, taking a deep breath. 

“What do we do now?” he asked with a smile. “Do I go to work?”

“We’ll find you a new job,” you said, Dean pursing his lips. “What is it Dean?”

“You’re not happy,” he said. “I want to fix it but I don’t remember how to do that.”

“We both have to get used to this new life,” you said, giving him a nod. “We will. I don’t want you to worry about me, Dean.”

“I love you though. Of course I worry about you,” he said with a smirk.

“You don’t even remember my birthday,” you said with a smile.

“I guess I get to learn everything I love about you all over again then,” he said. “I do know I love you. I definitely remember that.”

“I love you too Dean. Every version of you. We’ll get through this too.”

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #one shot #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert

[talaok]

Hi!

I have a joel request

Ok so reader is with Joel from Boston, maybe Tess introduced them, but they’re end up taking a liking to each other and don’t tell Tess.

Reader ends up pregnant (remains a secret between Joel and her) but she joins them on the quest with Ellie and to Tommy.

They meet Haney and Sam and Joel is extra overprotective of reader all the time, maybe she’s around forth month and just slightly showing, enough for Henry to catch on

Pt. 2

You didn't know exactly how or when it had started, it kind of just... had.

The Boston QZ wasn't an easy place to wander alone, so when Tess had offered you some company, you hadn't refused.

Since you were both smugglers, after some time she had introduced you to who you believed to be her partner, to work together for a job. As it turns out, Joel Miller wasn't her boyfriend, what he was, however, was a man of few words.

It wasn't easy at first, you kept asking him questions and he kept answering with no more than a grunt or a mumbled yes or no.

You were sure he despised you or was just unnervingly indifferent to you.

But then one day, something changed.

He had asked you to help him out with a job, and of course, you had agreed, completely conscient of having just condemned yourself to hours of endless silence.

But that's not how it went, not at all.

He had spent the night asking you questions, and thanks to some kind of miracle, even answering yours.

You had talked and talked for hours, and that night, the man who up until that point you believed to be just a ruthless survivor, turned into a kind, fun man.

You had asked him about that night months later, and after a bit of pressuring he eventually confessed:

"I don't know, I guess I finally decided that I had spent enough time punishing myself... and I was tired of seeing your pretty face frown each time I pushed you away"

Things after that night changed, you started spending more and more time together, until well... that's all you wanted to do.

He showed you part of himself he kept hidden, and you did the same until you both knew every good and bad and sad of each other. Until there was nothing to hide anymore.

It's weird... finding love at the end of the world, and yet, you'd done it.

And as happy as you were, you were both terrified too.

In the world you lived in, love wasn't just love anymore, it was weakness,

it was the possibility of losing everything again.

And the fear only grew stronger when you found out you were pregnant.

There were so many things to be scared of, the practical part, having to deliver a child in a world where zombies roamed the streets, having to be a good mother, not knowing how to be a good mother, and then finally... having to tell Joel.

You saw the fear in him too, when you finally told him, you saw the paralyzing fear flash before his eyes, and then, like magic, you saw it all melt away.

He had hugged you for what felt like an hour, feeling so many things at once he had no idea what to say.

Until, finally, leaning away, he had made you a simple promise:

"I love you. And I'll protect you, if it's the last thing I do I'll protect you, both of you"

You chose not to say anyone, not even Tess. It was safer and easier. When the time would have come, you would have said something, but then Ellie came along.

Joel had begged you with everything he had to stay in Boston, to not follow him and Tess, and to forget about him if he was to never come back.

But you had fought back with the same intensity. You had told him the truth. That you couldn't do it without him, that he was the only person you trusted.

"fine" he had sighed, after you had given him a headache "but don't do anything stupid"

And at that, you had smiled "When have I ever?"

Now everything had changed once again, Tess was dead.

You would expect it to get easier, loss... but it doesn't.

you never told her, she never knew, and now she'll never know.

You were four months pregnant, shirts had just started getting tighter, and your brain fuzzier.

you still hadn't told Ellie. For some reason it felt like the moment you did, everything would become real, and your luck would run out.

You had "met" Henry and Sam along the way, Joel wasn't a big fan, but you liked them, especially Sam, he was a smart boy.

You had walked in the tunnels all day until you stumbled across an underground settlement.

"Can we rest here for a while?" Ellie asked after she and Sam found one of the awful comics they apparently both loved "There's like- actual shit to do here"

"wouldn't be so bad to wait the light out a bit" Henry intervened, feeling the need to explain himself better when Joel shot him a look "safer in shadows when we pop back out on the other side"

He wasn't convinced, you could see it, and your feet were killing you, so...

"please Joel" was all you needed to say to change his mind.

"fine" he sighed "Just for a while," he said, before walking to you.

"Are you all right?" he asked, worry evident in his tone

"I'm fine, I'm just tired"

"did you eat enough?"

You smiled "I did"

His eyes fell to your belly for a moment "Here" he said, reaching in his pocket for some food he had in a napkin "Eat this"

"Joel..."

"I don't need to eat tonight, don't worry"

"you do need to" you protested, trying to give it back

"no" he shook his head "what I need is for you to be healthy"

You bit down a smile as you put the food in your backpack "Y'know... I miss kissing you"

"I kissed you this morning"

"yeah well..." you pouted

"I know," he said, as his thumb stroked your arm "I miss it too"

Ellie's laugh brought you both back to reality.

You grinned, watching as she talked to Sam.

"I better go see what she's up to," you said "wouldn't want her to teach the poor kid all the bad words she knows"

Joel's lips twitched into a small smile "We'd be here for hours" he joked, making you laugh "Try to rest, ok?" he said, more seriously now.

"Yes sir" you mocked "you too"

Something traveled between your eyes before you went your way.

Joel watched as you sat with the kids, and decided to sit next to Henry, he owed him some sort of apology.

"If you were collaboratin' to take care of him, I shouldn't have said what I said. I don't know your situation. And I'm not saying they should let it go, but... all things considered, seems kinda cruel to send a whole army after you for that" Joel spoke, his eyes not leaving you. He knew damn well he too, would do anything for you or the baby.

"You know, I wasn't exactly telling you the truth before, about me not killing anyone," Henry said after some time, as he started telling Joel everything, about Kathleen's brother, about Sam's sickness... everything.

"I am the bad guy because I did a bad guy thing," Henry said, pain and frustration tracing his words "but you get it though. you might not be her father, but you were someone's... and you're gonna be someone's"

Joel's jaw twitched, and he tightened his fists as he stared at the man.

How does he know?

"I see the way you glance at her whenever you hear a noise, I see how you always get her behind you," he explained, without needing to be told to "The first thing you said when we woke you up with guns pointing at you was, - don't point it at her-" Henry recalled "plus" he smiled "she's the only one you listen to"

"don't worry" Henry said, noticing Joel's look "I won't tell"

They both turned in your direction, as they heard you reading the comic aloud.

Both the kids were looking at you, completely hypnotized.

"she'll be a great mother"

"I know," Joel said "I know she will"

— —

Pt. 2

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel miller the last of us #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel the last of us #fluff

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 13

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.  

Part 13: “Boiling Point”

Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.

This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.

You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.

Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…

But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.

Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.

The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.

“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.

You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.

“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”

Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”

You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.

You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.

You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask? 

Apparently, it was.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.

It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows. 

“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”

“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”

Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.

“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”

You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.

“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.

She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”

You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.

“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”

A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.

“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.

He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)

Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.

“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.

You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”

“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.

“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”

Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.

“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.

You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”

“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”

You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?

“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”

Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.

He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”

You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.

Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.

“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.

The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere. 

Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.

“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”

You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.

“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.

“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”

You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.

“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.

You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.

Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.

You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.

A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).

It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.

And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”

When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.

“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.

You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny. 

“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”  

“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.

“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”

“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.

He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”

Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.

“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.

Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”

You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?  

“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.

Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.

“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said. 

You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.

At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.

There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.

“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”

He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.

“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”

He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.

“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”

His eyes met yours knowingly.

You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”

You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.

Fucking frat bros.

“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.

“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.    

It made you realize something.

As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?

The rest of your life?

Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.

If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.

You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.

So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.

“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.

You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”

Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”

A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.

“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”

Your hand tightened on his wrist.

“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”

Dean nodded, and you stood.  

“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”

You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”

Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.

“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.

Benny whistled.

“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”

Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”

Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.

“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.

Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.

Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.

She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind. 

Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…

Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.

She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.

“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”

Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.

“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”

Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.

“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.

Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.

You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.

A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.

“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.

The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.

Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.

“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.

“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.

Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.

You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.

His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.

You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.

He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.

Please—

And the hand was peeled away entirely.

You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.

Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.

It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.

The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.

“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.

“What?” Nick choked.

You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.

“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.

“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”

Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.

“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”

“Dean,” you gasped.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”

You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.

“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.

“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”

Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.

“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”

Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.

“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.

Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.

“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”

Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.

Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.

“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.” 

“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”

Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.

Nick met his eyes.

“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”

He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”

Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”

Once again, Nick smirked.

“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”

Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.

But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.

The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.

“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.

“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.

Winchester, Nick thought.

Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.

“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”

When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.

Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.

He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.

The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.

You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)

He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”

Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.

The car was silent for the rest of the hour.

It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.

Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.

You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.

With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”

You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“It started before I even met you, Dean.” 

His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.

“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”

You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.

When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.

And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.

All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.

But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.

At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.

I should've told him, you thought. You knew.

Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.

Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”

“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.

“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”

Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him. 

“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”

He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.

“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”

You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.

Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.

“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”

Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.

“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head.   

“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”

“He can fucking try,” he snapped.

“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”

He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.

Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”

The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.

Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either. 

He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.

“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”

After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.

You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.

Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.

You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.

“Dean,” you called. 

He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Come ‘ere a sec?”

He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked.

Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.

Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.

Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.

But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.

His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Baby?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.

You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.

He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear. 

“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”

You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”

You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.

“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.

“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said. 

You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick. 

“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.

You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.

“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”

Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.

You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail. 

Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep. 

AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).

Next Time:

The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

Keep Reading: PART 14

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

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@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

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#Boiling Point #Smoke Eater #Part 13 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #benny lafitte #zepskies writes

[buckybabesonly]

I'll Let You Lick The Lollipop

Summary: You're bored, and Bucky won't play with you.

Pairing: Bucky x female!Reader

Genre: Porn without plot

Warnings: Slight daddy kink, lollipop play (? is that a thing - PLEASE DON’T PUT FOOD IN YOUR HOO HA), slight spanking, dirty talk

A/N: I love writing these but please do leave requests for me! I'm happy to turn your smuttiest fantasies into fiction huhu

Length: 3.2k

Living your days in domesticated bliss with Bucky was one of your dreams come true. You loved the mundane nights you shared, those rare occasions where chaos wasn’t bringing worries and danger to your lives. You learned to cherish the ‘boring’ aspects of a relationship which weren’t boring at all - those quiet days lazing around and doing nothing, comfortable silence between you as you both got up to your own devices.

Today, however, you were in one of those moods, and Bucky wasn’t paying any attention. You observed him quietly as he frowned at the laptop in front of him, sitting in the semi-darkness with the screen brightness turned up, muttering something under his breath.

Boredom came over you as you lay across the couch, shifting positions every ten seconds, staring at Bucky and thinking about how this was not how you wanted to be spending your Sunday.

You stood up slowly, deliberately, tugging your sleep shorts slightly further up your hips, Bucky’s borrowed t-shirt hanging loosely off your frame. You pattered over, barefoot, to where he was sitting.

"Bucky, play with me," you announced like a petulant child, tugging on his arm as he hunched further over the dining room table, completely caught up in his work. He was doing some sort of background research on somebody - didn’t they have people at S.H.I.E.L.D who could do that for him?

"Stop it, doll," Bucky murmured, gently brushing your hands away as he frowned over his work. He heard you sigh dramatically before you disappeared into the bedroom, but Bucky didn't have the heart to feel guilty. He was totally engrossed in his latest mission, as he felt that him and Sam were on the cusp of an excellent lead, and as much as he loved his girlfriend, she wasn't helping.

Bucky made a few mental notes to discuss with Sam before you reappeared, seating yourself right opposite him. Bucky glanced at up, pausing when he saw the thin, white stick that was peeking out from between your lips. Your cheeks were suctioned in as you sucked the lollipop in your mouth, rolling your tongue around the candy, eyes fastened on Bucky.

Bucky scoffed, arching his eyebrows as you continued sucking, feigning innocence with your eyes.

"What?" You asked, tilting your head to the side. Under the table, you slowly lifted one foot and placed it carefully between Bucky’s legs, teasingly pushing against the length of his thigh towards his crotch.

"Doll," Bucky warned, glancing down at his crotch and seeing your feet press at his cock through his jeans.

"What?" You challenged again, lips looking so fucking delectable around the lollipop. He could see a flash of red, and guessed it was strawberry, your favorite flavor. At Bucky’s scowl, you peeked down shyly, unable to hide your smile.

“I just want your attention, baby,” you said in that sweet voice you knew he liked.

You felt a small thrill when you noticed Bucky tense ever so slightly. His eyes, in the already dim light, looked inky black.

He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to focus now as he watched you, practically fluttering your lashes at him, tongue working it’s magic around that damn piece of candy. He could see your nipples poking through the thin material of his t-shirt, having opted to go braless.

So much for wanting to focus on work.

"You want to play? Fine, we'll play."

You smiled widely at Bucky giving in so quickly, watching like a hawk as he stood, chair pushing back with a screech. He circled the table and picked you up easily in his arms, lifting you to sit on the edge of the tabletop. He spread your legs wide so he could stand between them, one hand lifting to cup the back of your neck.

His other hand raised to your mouth to remove the lollipop, and you purposely pursed your lips and sucked hard so that it was released with a audible pop. He leaned forward and kissed you, tongue snaking into the cavern of your mouth, tasting you. He kissed so passionately, like he didn’t even want to give you time to breathe.

When he released you, a thin, gauzy string of saliva connected your mouths. He gave a crooked smile, popping the lollipop into his own mouth.

“Hey,” you protested, but was silenced when Bucky picked you up again and practically ran into your bedroom. He lowered you down onto the bed gently, before taking a step back to assess you.

"Bucky," you mewled, eyes seductive. "C'mere."

Bucky moved to climb on top of you, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He easily flipped you onto your front, and you promptly lifted your ass, instinctively trying to grind it against his crotch. 

Bucky threaded long, metallic fingers through your hair and pulled, hard. He lifted your head up, forcing your neck to crane backwards, and suddenly you found the lollipop being pushed past your lips again.

“Do you need me to spank you?" He asked in a low voice, and you nodded desperately. "Look at you. You love getting into trouble for being such a fucking needy girl, don't you? You've been waiting for me to fuck you all night."

"Mmm, Buck," you whimpered, words garbled, and blinked when you felt the heat of Bucky’s body disappear.

"Strip, baby. And then undress me," he ordered.

You complied quickly, tearing your t-shirt off and shimmying off your shorts, along with your panties. 

Bucky was smirking when you shakily took his shirt off, revealing your boyfriend's ripped, muscular chest. The jeans came off next, your fingers fidgeting impatiently with his belt and zipper as you tried to remove it at lightning speed.

God, his cock was magnificent. It bounced against his stomach the moment you stripped him of his underwear, thick and weighty. It had the most beautiful slight curve, veins running along the underside of it, the tip swollen and waiting to be placed inside your mouth.

You removed the lollipop and your hands reached out, keen to start, but he interrupted you with a deft flick of his hand.

"Ah, ah, ah," Bucky said tantalizingly, capturing your wrists and pulling them away. He plucked the candy from your hand and forced you onto your front again, onto your knees. He positioned himself on the bed once more, kneeling behind you, chest pressing against your back, and nibbled at your ear playfully. "Eager, are we?"

You nodded, feeling a rush of pleasure when you felt just how hard Bucky was against you, his dick brushing against your bare thigh. There was nothing gentle about the way he began grinding his thick length against your ass, breathing deeply as he did so. 

He pressed his front against your spine as his tongue darted out to taste the nape of your neck, and you so wanted to beg him to fuck you right there and then. But you knew you had to be patient.

"Are you gonna be my dirty little angel tonight?" Bucky asked, pressing his cock harder against your ass cheeks.

"Yes, yes," you nodded in hasty agreement. Bucky chuckled. 

"I'm gonna go hard on you. Aren't you a naughty girl, distracting daddy from his work? If you want it so bad, I'm going to give it to you so hard that you'll be begging me to stop."

You loved it when he spoke like this, and Bucky knew it as he continued in a voice that could only be described as feral. “I’m going to fill you up with my cum, keep pumping you over and over and over again until your cunt takes the shape of my cock. Going to use you like my personal fuck toy.”

"Please, daddy..." You turned your neck to glance back at him, delighted at the expression on his face that showed pure arousal. "Use me," you said in the huskiest voice you could manage.

You began pressing your ass deliberately harder against Bucky’s erection, and the latter promptly spanked your sensitive cheeks. His cold, vibranium palm instantly soothed the red skin as you gasped from the pained pleasure of it all.

"Do you want it?"

"Yes!"

"Hmm. If you had waited for me to finish my work, I would've fucked you any way you wanted. On the kitchen table, up against the wall, over the couch, maybe. But you just couldn't wait, could you? You want my cock in your pussy that badly?"

"Yes. Daddy, please, fuck me!"

"Don't give orders," Bucky barked, slapping your ass again, harder than before. He repeated the same motion of spanking you with his right hand, then immediately soothing you with the left, calming your stinging flesh against cold metal.

"I'm going to make you wait, baby. This is your punishment. You're gonna have to wait whilst I have my fun before I fill you up with my cock."

You wanted to cry with frustration, but you knew it would do little good to beg.

Bucky inserted his knee between your legs, forcing you to balance with them further apart. "That's it, push that ass out for me," he said encouragingly as you obeyed.

You turned his head to see Bucky sucking on the lollipop again, coating the hot red candy with his own saliva. You held your breath as Bucky slowly pulled the candy out of his mouth.

"You ready for this, baby?" He asked. He didn't wait for an answer before he spread your cheeks apart and rubbed the head of the lollipop against your slick folds. You whimpered wantonly as he pushed the sticky candy into your cunt, a smile growing on his face as he did it. 

Soon, the white stick of the lollipop was all that was left hanging out. Bucky sighed in satisfaction, running his palms lightly against your ass. 

"You keep that nice and safe for me, baby," he cooed. "Now come over here and suck my cock like a good girl."

Bucky withdrew from his position and lay on his back instead. You crawled round to face him, practically pouncing on his leaking erection, your small hands wrapping around the throbbing length. 

"Look at how horny you are," Bucky said, pleased as you lowered your head. Your lips parted and you took his cock into your mouth as far as you could, sucking enthusiastically as Bucky’s hands played with your hair.

"Yeah. Sucking daddy's cock so well," he praised with a grunt. 

You glanced up at Bucky’s face, noting how his eyes were half closed in ecstasy, head tilted back as both of his hands held your head, pushing you down onto his cock. Your drool dripped down his thick, pulsing shaft, trying not to gag as Bucky gave a particularly violent thrust up with his hips. Your eyes began to sting with tears, but neither you or Bucky relented. You continued to suck furiously, Bucky fucking your mouth and using you the way you loved to be used.

"Take it, baby," Bucky groaned. "Oh God, yeah. You love sucking my cock, you love swallowing my cum." 

The lingering, sugary taste of the lollipop on your tongue mixed with the saltiness of Bucky’s precum was new for you, and you fucking loved it. You groaned with satisfaction, continuing to work on Bucky’s cock, until he eventually pulled you off. 

He pushed you back by the shoulders until you were lying on your back. His eyes regarded you hungrily as he slowly pulled the lollipop from your pussy, tossing it to the side, forgotten.

“Let me taste you before I fuck your pretty candy cunt, doll,” Bucky said, licking his lips before he dived down to your pussy, pushing your thighs apart with his hands. He licked a long, thick stripe up your cunt, laughing as you squirmed with pleasure.

He knew exactly how to plunder your cunt with his tongue, mouth working against your clit and massaging that delicious bundle of nerves. The taste of your wetness combined with sugar was like fucking crack, and he closed his eyes as he continued to eat you out, enjoying the sounds of your moans and kitten-like whimpers.

Your eyes remained closed when you suddenly felt Bucky shift, and all of a sudden he was assaulting your neck with his lips. You tilted your neck to the side to give Bucky better access. 

"Daddy," you whimpered, arching your back as his hot, wet tongue left a trail from your collarbone to your neck. 

"Hmm?" Bucky asked teasingly, making you shiver slightly.

"Please give it to me?” You asked uncertainty, biting down on your lower lip. He looked at you, chest heaving, both of you breathing hard.

"Baby, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to fucking walk," Bucky purred. "Don't you worry your pretty little head. Do you see what you do to me?"

You glanced at Bucky’s cock, glistening with your saliva and standing to attention. You blushed a little as he smirked.

"I wanna feel you clench around my cock, baby.”

You nodded, spreading your legs wider in invitation, making Bucky laugh a little.

"So fucking thirsty for it," he murmured, lining up his cock with you entrance. He watched every micro expression on your face as he eased the head of his cock into your cunt, then suddenly impaled you with his whole length all at once, watching as you gasped and closed his eyes.

"How does it feel, baby?"

"Good, daddy," you replied instantly. You had taken him so many times before, but every time you could feel how he stretched your walls, how he could barely fit his cock inside you. "Please just fuck me," you pleaded.

"Fucking desperate whore," Bucky said, nipping at your neck playfully. He slowly lowered his hand down to your pussy and you didn’t realize what he was doing until you felt his fingers prodding around your entrance where his cock was currently sheathed.

“Bucky, what are you - oh fuck,” you practically screeched as he eased a finger into your pussy, alongside his cock. 

"Daddy's gonna give it to you good, baby," he murmured. You whimpered as he slid another finger inside to nestle against his own cock, your pussy wrapped around everything tightly like a dirty little package. 

He began thrusting his fingers inside you in tandem with his cock, watching as you unraveled at the sweet torture. Your hands flailed, pushing against his chest, and he withdrew his fingers from your cunt and pinned both wrists above your head. You sighed with contentment as you enjoyed the familiar stretch and burn of his dick pushing inside you.

Your nails dug into your fleshy palms in ecstasy when Bucky started to go rough, snapping his hips into you so that his cock jabbed your cervix, but you loved the pain. It was delicious to you as you clenched around Bucky’s cock uncontrollably, a guttural noise escaping your boyfriend's mouth as he sank further into you. 

"God, baby," he groaned. "I've fucked you so many times with my huge cock, so how the fuck do you stay so fucking tight?"

"Nngh, daddy," you said, gasping loudly. "Keep going."

Instead of spanking you for giving orders, Bucky simply smiled and switched up the pace. He started to thrust at a teasingly slow pace rather than fucking you into the mattress. The slow rhythm almost killed you, as you clenched your jaw in frustration, wanting Bucky to stop fooling around and just jackhammer his cock into you.

"I own this fucking pussy, baby," Bucky sneered, throwing his head back towards the ceiling, sighing as if he had finally found heaven, his cock nestled inside your wet, warm core. 

You should've kept your mouth shut like a good girl, but you couldn't help sassing. "I thought you were gonna fuck me hard," you said weakly. “Old man can’t keep up?”

You heard the low rumbling growl in Bucky’s chest.

His fingers reached out to pinch your nipples, hands massaging your tits and pulling them hard. Then, you felt his arms suddenly circle your back, lifting you off the mattress. You cried out in pleasure as Bucky sat back instead, tugging you with him and forcing you down onto his cock, impaling you hard. 

You began to grind down onto his lap, riding him as you resisted the urge to reach out and touch your clit. Daddy wouldn't like that. He liked it when you came with just his cock.

"You fucking bet I'll give it to you hard," he snarled. 

"Oh god, it feels so good," you groaned loudly as Bucky forced you down onto his cock over and over again every time you levered yourself up. "You make me feel so full with your big cock."

"Mmm, tell me more, baby," Bucky commanded. His hands were cupping your asscheeks, helping to lift you up and down with ease as you bounced on his cock. He loved this view, your tits jiggling in front of him enticingly. He leaned forward to capture the swell of one of them in his mouth, licking and sucking until you squealed.

"I love - I love having your cock in my pussy," you said breathlessly.

"My pussy," Bucky corrected. "You belong to me, baby. Every single fucking delectable inch of you is mine."

He snapped his hips up as you sank down on him, moving in perfect synchronization. He closed his lips over your neck, sucking deeply. A hickey formed quickly, and Bucky admired his pretty artwork blooming across your skin as your moans grew in volume.

"Daddy! Daddy, please,” you shouted in pleasure as Bucky shifted ever so slightly so that the head of his cock hit that sweet, spongy spot inside you, causing you to spasm in his arms.

"Cum for me, baby."

"I'm gonna - gonna cum so hard," you said breathlessly. "Gonna cum so hard for you."

"Yes, yes, yes," Bucky chanted, your own personal cheerleader. You could practically feel the pounding of his heart against your front as he pressed his slick chest to your tits, groaning loudly as he drilled his cock again and again inside you.

You could feel the way his dick was buried so beautifully inside your core, so deep, a feeling you just couldn't get enough of. You felt that wonderful, familiar rush as you came, pussy pulsing and clenching, shivers shooting through your body. 

You sobbed, feeling the hot warmth of Bucky’s cock shooting cum inside your cunt a few seconds later, some of it leaking out and seeping from your hole as Bucky continued to fuck into you.

Eventually, Bucky lifted you off his lap and twisted you back and around so that you were on your stomach. You didn't even have the energy to keep yourself up on your arms, burying your face into the mattress, whimpering as Bucky spread your pussy folds.

"Mmm, I filled you up so good," he said appraisingly. You felt Bucky’s fingers sink into your used entrance, inspecting the mess you made, and you wailed pathetically.

"Daddy...please, too much," you whimpered. Bucky pulled his fingers out again and slid them inside your mouth. You sucked obediently, licking the cum clean off his fingers.

"How do we taste, baby?"

"So good," you sighed. You slowly rolled over onto your back, watching as Bucky kneeled over you, gazing down at his lover adoringly. Suddenly, you pouted.

"What?"

"You wasted my lollipop," you murmured, and Bucky laughed despite still being a little out of breath. 

"Sorry, baby," he said, his voice soft as he lowered his head and slanted his lips over yours. He sucked on your lower lip softly, teasing you before pulling away. "I’ll get you another one. Happy?"

"Hmm. Okay."

He smirked as he kissed you again, his tongue sliding into your mouth again. Your hot, sweaty body against his and the echoes of your moans in his mind was driving him crazy.

"Round two?" You murmured against his mouth, as if reading Bucky’s mind. The way his hands gripped your hips possessively was all the answer you needed.

#bucky smut #bucky pwp #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes pwp #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x you smut #bucky imagines

[delulu4dean]

No Doctors (Sam and Dean Winchester x sibling!reader)

Warnings: needles I guess

Parings: sam Winchester X sibling!reader, Dean Winchester x sibling!reader

Prompt: you’re a hunter scared of needles idk I went to urgent care the other day and I hate needles.

Word Count: 1,044

Sam, Dean, and you, their younger, nineteen year old half sibling have seen a lot, obviously. Hunters? You see vampires, werewolves, ghosts. But as a Winchester you see so much more. The three of you have saved the world quite a few times. It is safe to say not much phases the Winchesters.

But you, Y/N Winchester has one big fear, needles. When Sam injected Demon Dean with human blood, you could not watch. It wasn’t because of your big brother’s yells of pain, but because you cannot even look at a needle. So when Sam and Dean told you that you HAD to see a doctor, you put it off until it was too late. Now your legs were covered in red spots. The spots were not inflamed or itching. They looked like bleeding under the skin, which means its less like a rash. Google did not help ease Sam and Dean’s worries about you.

“Y/N damn it, we have to rule out anything serious,” Dean told you.

“I am fine,” you insisted.

“Google says you have one week to live,” your older brother furrowed his eyebrows, showing you his google search on his smart phone.

“Google is not a doctor,” you rolled your eyes.

“That is why we have to take you to a doctor. Right Sam?”

Sam nods in agreement.

“Look, if Cas was here, he could figure it out, but he isn’t. We are going to urgent care,” Dean demanded. “Now get your ass to my car.”

You looked over to Sam and back to Dean, fear in your eyes. You knew what this meant, bloodwork. You could not do bloodwork. Just seeing a needle makes you sick to your stomach. The last time you had bloodwork done, you threw up. When you had to get your Covid vaccines, you took your brothers with you. It worked because they ended up getting theirs as well, but when it came to your turn, your brothers had to distract you so you didnt see the needle. You held Dean’s hands and almost broke his fingers as the needle went into your flesh.

“Dean, doctors are scary. All they do is poke at you with needles,” you frowned at your older brother.

“Sam and I will both be there by your side,” Dean insisted.

And so here you are now. The walking to the lab with your brothers at your side. You look for all possible exists to run out of here, but you know its no use. Dean would drag you back if he has to. The lab nurse sits you down in the chair and looks for a good vein. Shit. It’s going to happen. Your eyes follow her hands as she pulls out all the tubes that will be soon filled with your blood. The things is you’re not grossed out by the idea of seeing your own blood, its kind of cool actually. But knowing how it gets in there is too much.

You see her take out the needle and your instincts kick in. You jump out of your seat before your brothers push you back. Dean holds you down on the chair and you look at him with tears in your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that kid,” Dean sighs, a guilty expression coming across his face. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am fine! And when we find out that nothing is wrong you’re going to be sorry,” you spit.

Sam holds the hand of the arm that the nurse will draw blood from, not just to keep it steady, but to calm you down.

“You are a fighter, you are strong, you got this,” Sam tells you. “Just don’t look, and then you won’t feel it, okay?” You nod at Sam. “Attagirl. Now don’t look at me, or else you’ll see the needle too. Look at Dean.”

“Yeah, look at me,” Dean cuts in. You look up at your eldest brother. “Good job.”

“I’m not a child,” you remind Dean.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a kid compared to Sam and I,” Dean chuckles.

“Well yeah, Sam is old and you’re ancient,” you tease.

“Ancient?” Dean fakes an offended expression.

“Yeah. So ancient that when the Egyptians built the pyramids, they looked at you and said ‘Wow that man is ancient.’”

Sam laughs but plays it off as a cough when Dean shoots a look at him. You feel a cotton ball on your arm as the nurse wraps the bandage on your arm.

“All done,” she smiles. “You can go to the waiting room and as soon as we get your results, you’ll be notified.”

You’re surprised and relieved to find out its done and over with. And you didn’t feel a thing.

“You did it kid,” Dean smiles at you.

“We are proud of you,” Sam ruffles your hair.

“I’m almost twenty don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” you get up and push past your brothers.

They follow you into the waiting room and sit by your side. Sam wraps an arm around you while you’re all pouty and embarrassed.

“We aren’t babying you or anything,” Sam sighs. “You have a genuine fear, and you faced it. We know you’re an adult. You are capable of doing a lot, you are a badass hunter. A Winchester.”

You nod, not so confidently. You and your brothers watch the TV in the waiting room where some old cowboy movie is playing. Dean is loving it, but you just want to get your results and go back home. After twenty minutes, a doctor comes out with a clipboard.

“You are fine, your blood came back clean. And over the counter rash cream should be able to help. You are free to go home,” she tells you.

Dean scoffs, and Sam looks confused. To be fair, you don’t understand either, you know its not a rash, it doesn’t look like a rash. But it can’t be what Dean looked up either if the bloodwork came back clean so its clearly nothing serious. As the doctor walks away, you glare at your older brothers.

“See, I knew bloodwork was a waste of time.”

Dean shrugs as Sam says, “Better safe than sorry.”

#dean winchester x sister!reader #dean X sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #supernatural #dean Winchester X sibling!reader #sam Winchester X sibling!reader

[lunitawrites]

Both Sides of the Moon - part two

pairing: biker!Joel Miller x fem!reader rating: explicit word count: 4.8k summary: After your first encounter with Joel you finally learn the truth about your family. a/n: hey! I am back with part two of this story, hope you will like it. Thanks for the edit and beta @papipascalispunk ! Please read the warnings carefully on this one!

Want to read a biker Joel story that's not depressing? Check out twin peaks by @toxicanonymity! More fic recs on part 1 of this series. TW: no-outbreak AU, age gap (reader mid-twenties, Joel is late forties), loss of parents, gun, knife, alcohol consumption, Joel being violent towards reader, injury caused by Joel, blood, minor blood play, masturbation (f), oral sex (f receiving), petnames, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n part 1 | masterlist

“I’m okay,” you whisper, “it's fine,” as your fingers smear the fog on the outside of the glass you are holding. “I just want to go home.” you say.

“Of course,” Sam answers, putting a hand on your shoulder, softly nudging you to stand up, “I’ll drive you.” 

“No, it's okay, I’ll be fine,” you insist after finishing the glass of water and putting it down on the diner table next to you.

“No, I’ll drive you home and stay with you tonight. Don't argue with me on this one,” he says as he stands up and starts walking towards the kitchen. “I’m going to grab a change of clothes and then we can go,” he calls back to you. ”Arlene, stay with her.”

“He treats me like a child,” you complain to Arlene as soon as he is out of sight.

“He cares about you,” she says softly, “we care about you.”

“I guess I'm just not used to that,” you confess. 

“Yeah,” she sighs, “that you are not.”  She stands up too then, reaching for your hand, ”Come on, let's get you something stronger than water.”

“You should go back home to your actual kids, Arlene, just let me wait for Sam here,” you laugh, but still follow her to the bar.

“Will you stop with that?”, she laughs too and reaches for a bottle behind the bar. “So, tequila?”, she asks.

“Only if you want to kill me,” you say, but the smile quickly disappears from your face as your voice falls flatly, “I’d rather have a whiskey.”

“Darlin’”, Arlene says, putting a glass in front of you, “Sam will tell you everything, I wasn’t living here when it happened – only heard rumors.”

“When what happened?”, you ask, “I feel like everyone is trying to keep me in the dark.”

“We’re just trying to protect you,” she says.

“Well, that didn't work out so well out there, did it?”, you say and down your drink in one go.

“Let's go!”, Sam says from the kitchen door, “Could you please close up, Arlene? You can come in later tomorrow if you want.”

“It's fine, it's fine,” she says, “Just go!”

You climb down from the bar stool and follow Sam out to the parking lot. He helps you up in the passenger seat of the truck and closes the door behind you.

You drive home in complete silence. Rolling down the window and letting the night air blow in your face, you still feel numb. You catch a glimpse of Sam looking over to you, but you don't say anything, you just lean against the door and watch the trees go by, attempting to process the utter confusion of the emotions you are experiencing.

The moment you saw Joel, you were shaken alive from your usual apathy. It was as if the muscle memory of your heart recognized something it knew from long ago, making it beat rapidly. Like suddenly your body remembered how to feel; a strange gravity in his presence waking a long-forgotten need inside you. A need to belong? You’re not sure. How can you feel like you belong to someone when you know you should be deadly afraid of them?

–

Sam takes a right turn driving up your driveway. He stops the car and rushes to your side to open the door for you and help you out. “What a gentleman,” you tease, and you see him slightly blush as he reaches for you. 

Feeling his blush, he clears his throat, “Let me get my bag, don’t walk without me.” 

“Okay, boss,” you say, leaning on the side of his truck.

“Hungry?”, he asks, grabbing his bag from the back.

“No, I just want to take a shower,” you say quietly while you walk up to your porch. You open the front door and gesture to the living room, “I’ll just shower quickly, but make yourself at home. Kitchen’s that way,” you cock your head to the left.

Sam looks at you with concern, as if even being alone upstairs is a threat to your safety. You can sense his hesitancy, reassuring, “I’ll be fine,” as you nod and run up the stairs. You quickly grab your shorts and t-shirt from the bedroom and head to the bathroom. You take a shower with what feels like nearly-boiling water; an attempt to wash away the fear and confusion of the night. You feel lighter after; walking down the stairs with your wet hair still dripping on your t-shirt. You look for Sam to find him in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee.

“I thought we might need it,” he says, gesturing to the steaming pot, “I suspect we have a long night ahead.” You feel a strange sense of domesticity, seeing him in your kitchen, a place where you don’t even usually host guests, let alone invite a man to stay over.

“Thanks,” you say, “But again, I think I need something stronger,” you say as you reach for the cupboard to pull a bottle of whiskey, pouring a fair amount in two glasses and leading the way to the living room. “Thank you for doing this, Sam,” you start as you extend one of the glasses to him, “I know I can be difficult sometimes, but I appreciate you caring enough to do this.”

He laughs as he takes the glass and makes himself comfortable on the couch. You eye the place next to him, but choose to sit on the armchair instead. You take a sip from your glass and lean back. “So, where do we start?”, you ask, getting the courage from the warming liquor in your stomach.

Sam sits up on the couch a bit more, setting his glass on the coffee table, running his thumb around the edge of it as his face becomes more serious. “How much do you know about your father’s death?” he asks.

“All I have are assumptions,” you say and take another sip from your glass, “I know he was in a gang and that they were smugglers. And that it was drugs.”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a sigh, “They started off small – just helping the cocaine pass the border. But falling into a world like that never stays so simple. It starts with trafficking, but then you gain enemies and rivals, so you have to handle that threat to your business. The town had a difficult time back then. Everything existed and operated around smuggling. Nothing was sacred, nothing was safe.”

You nod slowly. You knew your father wasn't a good man. But it's not something you dwell on now, it’s a fact you buried within yourself long ago, and have not allowed to surface since.

“So what did my dad do in all of this?”, you ask quietly.

“Well, he was the leader of the club along with Joel, his best friend. They started out young, both growing up in this hick town and didn’t see a way out. They felt like they had nothing to lose, and that might have been true at the beginning, but then life happened. Both your dad and Joel got married and had kids, and that’s when everything changed,” Sam says, voice turning raspy.

“Kids? Joel has kids?”, you ask.

“Kid. And had. He had a kid. Sarah,” he almost whispers at the end.

“What happened to Sarah?”, you ask in a hushed voice.

“She died. She was killed,” he says solemnly as he turns to look out the window. You can feel your stomach twisting into a knot. “I’m still not sure I know the full story, honey. I don’t think anyone except Joel really does, but I’ll tell you everything I know.” He turns his face back at you, “What I do know is that Sarah was kidnapped. They say she was kidnapped by a rival gang to force your dad and Joel to give up their territory over the border. Your dad didn’t want to let it go, so they tried to rescue Sarah instead, but– but she didn’t survive ”

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“I told you, nothing was sacred; not friends, not even family,” he says.

“So Joel…”, you start, “Did– did he kill my dad?”

“Yes, but they never found his body, so it’s never been proven,” he answers as his eyes flicker to your face, checking your reaction, but you’re determined to not give any. “They charged him,” Sam continues, “but the prosecution didn’t have enough evidence. Everything was circumstantial.”

“So where has he been since? Why did he only come back now?”, you ask.

“He was serving time for trafficking. I assume he just got out and headed back here – I guess it's still his home, right?”, he asks with a bitter smile.

Slightly dazed as you stare blankly at your empty glass, you reluctantly answer, “Yeah,” you say as you stand up and go to the kitchen again. But this time, you take the whole whiskey bottle and place it on the coffee table after refilling both your glasses. 

“So,” you say contemplatively, “Joel blames me for my father’s mistake and wants to take revenge on me now? Like he hasn't already taken everything from me?” you ask. “He didn't just take my dad, Sam. He robbed me of my childhood, my home,” you say, emptying your glass. 

Sam takes the glass from your hands and places it on the table, his palms brushing over yours; soft, gentle. “Slow down with that,” he says at last, “I don't think we can understand what he wants. I doubt that he came back here planning to find you and taking revenge. I just think seeing you woke up something in him, you being here, alive and–”

“And Sarah being dead,” you finish. “But it's still not my fault, Sam. I’m just as miserable and alone in this world as he is,” you say, tears blurring your vision.

“Come on,” Sam says, taking you by your elbow and leading you up to the bedroom. You watch as a tear drops down on the wooden stairs. You sniff your nose. You see how Sam´s hand twitches next to his body, starting a move he never finishes. Probably reaching to wipe your tears. You are glad he didn't do it. He waits until you slip in the sheets and stands there for a second, not sure what he should do.

“There are some extra pillows and blankets in the wardrobe,” you say at last.

“Thank you,” he says and heads to get them.

“No, thank you for doing this,” you look at him with a faint smile, tears still shedding from your eyes, “Goodnight, Sam.”

“Sleep tight,” he says and closes the door behind him. 

Then you find yourself alone with your thoughts for the first time today. Your head is dizzy, and the room seems to spin around you. Despite the fatigue, sleep eludes you. The encounter with Joel replays in your mind, with the memory of his raw anger and the way his touch ignited a fire within you.

You close your eyes and imagine his hand grabbing your hair, his jeans scratching your bare skin. This is wrong, so wrong, but you place your hand on your stomach, moving it slowly under the waistband of your shorts, further and further until you find your center. You squeeze your eyes closed, as if you don't see it, it's not real and start circling your clit. You dip your fingers to your entrance and find yourself already soaked. “Fuck,” you murmur and keep pleasuring yourself until you are on the edge of your orgasm. You imagine it's not your fingers that curl deeper and deeper inside of you, it's not your palm that pushes down on your clit. “Christ,” you mutter and curve your back starting to shake from the pleasure finally spilling over inside of you.

You can feel tears running down your cheeks as you are coming down from your high. You turn onto your side and sob into the pillow. Your salty tears mix with salty residue on your fingers. You cry until there is nothing else, but the always forgiving darkness around you.

–

The next morning, your life begins to get back to its normal rhythm, the only difference now being that Sam has basically moved in with you.

You don't mind it at first, you’re glad someone cares enough to do this. He gives you the weekend off, so you spend it together. He fixes some things around the house while you read on the porch. You eat your meals together and, at night, you both curl up on opposite ends of the couch to dissociate in front of the flickering fluorescent lights of the TV.

You can't fail to notice how he looks at you, how comfortable he is in your presence, how seamlessly he fits into your home and your life. You recognize how he could become a part of it, if only you would let him. Yet, in your own twisted way, the more he cares, the less you want him around.

As Saturday melts into Sunday you start to feel suffocated. You tell him you want to go back to work. He agrees, maybe getting your minds occupied would help. So he drives you to work on Monday and drives you back home after your shift. You spend the rest of the week on the same schedule.

On Friday you tell him that it is fine, you will be safe, you will just drive home with your own car after your shift. He insists that he needs to protect you, that your life is still in danger. You explain that he cannot do this forever, that you can protect yourself. He walks you to your car, he hands you his gun, asking if you can shoot. You can, so you take it and hide it in your glove compartment while reassuring him for the hundredth time that everything will be alright. You turn on the engine and drive home, finally alone.

–

As you take the right turn to your house, you clearly see Joel’s bike is parked in your driveway, no attempt by him to even try to hide that he is there. You could turn around, go back to the diner, or call Sam, but you don’t. You know Joel isn’t at your house to talk, but your need to know the truth, the full story, pushes you to ignore the more rational, safe response to such a threat. So, you reach for the glove compartment and fish out the gun that Sam gave you.

You get out of the car and stuff it in the back of the waistband of your skirt. As you walk up the stairs to your porch and quietly unlock the front door, you see the house is still dark, but you don’t turn on the lights. Instead you begin making a sweep of the house, walking the ground floor to check the kitchen and living room, but he’s nowhere to be found. You make your way up the stairs, checking the bathroom first, followed by the master bedroom. When you finally reach the end of the hallway, the only door remaining is the one that leads to your childhood bedroom. You haven’t gone inside since you moved in, but the door is slightly ajar.

You place your palm on the door and push it open gently and he’s there, looking at the things on top of your dresser. Everything is covered in dust, your bedding, once bright pink, now faded into a muted rose color. He appears even bigger than you remembered, but maybe it’s the children's furniture in the room, making him look like a giant. You look around, but you can't recall the memories of you being there. Dolls and toys stuffed into baskets in one corner, books of fairytales stacked on the shelves along with framed family photos. It feels strange that once it was your home, that once you even had a home. That you had a family.

He sets down a framed photo on top of your old dresser. It's a photo of you and a dog, you can tell that much in the dark, but you have no idea where it was taken. He turns to look at you.

“His name was Mercy,” he says with a faint smile on his face, “He belonged to an old couple, who lived next door when–”

“When Sarah was still alive?”, you ask. You don't quite meet his eyes, you look at the soft leather of his jacket instead.

“Yes, when Sarah was still alive,” he repeats and takes a step closer, “Before your dad murdered her,” he adds, voice turning cold as ice.

“That's not how–”, you start, but he interrupts.

“Oh, please!”, he laughs, “You are not a child anymore to believe every tale you are told. He murdered her in cold blood and he was planning to murder me too – all for his business to make more money.”

This is the first time your eyes linger on him. He is handsome, very handsome. His side profile is lit by the moon, making him look like a Greek god. His graying curls disheveled on the top of his head that he probably ruffled it after taking off his helmet. He has a permanent scowl frozen to his face, you wonder if the deep line ever disappears from in between his brows.

“I understand your pain,” you say simply, “I've lost people too, you know?” You chuckle darkly, “Killing me would bring you nothing. If you kill me, what would you have left in this world?”

“You understand nothing,” he says, voice laced with anger. He moves fast then, grabbing the knife tucked in his belt and he’s towering over you in an instant.

“Then explain it to me,” you whisper.

“Explain,” he repeats, “I wish I could explain sweetheart, but your father did the unexplainable.” 

“Sam said she was kidnapped by another gang,” you say.

“Kidnapped, yes, but not by another gang. She was kidnapped by your dad, because I didn’t want to follow his orders. I wanted out, but he wouldn’t let me. So he took the only thing that mattered to me,” he says bitterly.

The truth hits you like a slap on the face. You cast your eyes down on the dusty wood below your feet, trying to stop your tears from falling. You look at his left hand still holding the knife. Your head feels dizzy. You lean on the wall behind you, the gun in the back of your skirt squishing into your flesh. You reach behind to take it out and place it on the desk next to you.

“Do it,” you say. You grab his hand that clutches the knife and point it just above your heart. His calloused hands are warm in your palms, you squeeze them harder. “Do it,” you whisper again, “If this is what we need to leave this all behind then do it.

He stares at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of fear. But you are not afraid anymore. If this is the end, so be it.

“I'm not afraid of dying," you say, your voice steady, "But killing me won't undo the past. It won't bring back Sarah, and it won't erase the pain." You close your eyes, waiting for the sharp pain that never comes. You pull your hand away from his, the knife slipping from his fingers and clattering onto the floor.

He is fast then, squatting down to grab the knife as long fingers curl around the handle, but he doesn’t stand up. He stays on his knees, pointing the knife to your left thigh as his other hand grips the flesh of your right thigh.

As if you are looking at yourselves from the outside, you see his hand move, the blade penetrating your skin as blood bubbles up to the surface. The cut is not deep, you don't feel pain just yet. You stay frozen in place, and you do nothing to stop him.

He pulls his hand away then, dropping the knife to the floor and places his hand over the wound; your blood seeping through his fingers. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. He presses on your thigh, trying to stop the bleeding, but he just smears it across your skin as it soaks the skirt of your uniform, pink fabric turning crimson.

He grabs your thigh with his other hand as well. You feel hot, but it has nothing to do with the injury. He leans his head on your stomach and you can hear his deep breaths, feel the warmth of them through your blouse.

“I'm sorry, baby,” he breathes, ”I'm so sorry.” 

Your hands move of their own volition, your fingers tangling in his graying curls. He lets out a deep breath at that, like someone who hasn't been touched for a long time, and you think that's most probably the case. He turns his head and places a kiss on your stomach through your uniform. Something twists in your stomach at the feeling, something that you have buried deep inside, something you have never even dared to feel. Not through your teenage years or after when you lived in Austin, working in Red Rose. You want Joel. You need him, right then and there, leaned upon your childhood bedroom wall.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispers again, but you are not sure anymore why he is apologizing. He moves his head placing small kisses along your torso down to your left thigh, where he cut you.

He places kisses around the cut, it's almost stopped bleeding now, but his scruff is painted with your blood.

He slides his hands on the side of your thighs, smearing blood there too, lifting up your skirt. His mouth never leaves your left thigh, now peppering kisses closer to your center, murmuring sorries after every kiss.

“Stop,” you say.

He lifts his head to look at you, “You want me to stop?”, he asks, still grabbing your thighs.

“I want you to stop saying sorry,” you say, voice breathy.

“So you want me to keep going?”, he asks, still looking up at you. You nod.

He moves his mouth back on your thigh, but he doesn't do anything more. “Let me hear it, okay, baby girl? Tell me.”

“Keep going. Please,” you whisper, almost pleading.

“Okay, baby,” he says and moves his fingers to the crease of your underwear, caressing the sensitive skin there. You feel your arousal dripping out of you, wetting the soft fabric of your underwear. His mouth starts moving on your thigh again, licking up your drying blood, smearing it all over your skin and his. His teeth scraping your thighs, dull fingernails digging into your flesh. 

You let out a whine as his teeth touch your cut, but it's more from pleasure than pain. Your hips move on their own, chasing more of his touch. You want him to have all of you. His fingers move to slide your underwear away, long fingers stroking soft curls. He pulls his head back then, and you try to pull him back towards your center where you need him most.

“I wanna see you,” he whispers, and your grip in his hair loosens. 

He looks at you with burning intensity, taking in all he can in the dim light of the night. “Beautiful,” he groans, almost pained, as he digs his nose into your curls, “Smells perfect too,” opening his mouth over your mound as if he’s trying to devour all of you.

“Mhm, can’t wait to have a taste,” he murmurs into your skin.

“Please Joel,” you say and try to open your legs wider for him, “Please.”

“So impatient,” he chuckles and moves his fingers over your folds. “So ready for me. Is this all for me, darlin’?”, he asks and lifts his fingers to show you your arousal mixed with your blood. The sight of it makes something in your stomach pull tighter.

“Yeah,” you say in a breathy voice, “It’s all for you, I’m all for you, you can have all of me.” You want to feel him even closer, you want him to make you his. You need to feel him want you. All of you.

He moves his fingers back to your folds, teasing the soft skin again. His fingers stop over your entrance and you can feel him slowly insert a finger into you while he locks eyes with you. Your lips fall open and you let out a soft moan.

“That's it baby,” he says and uses his other hand to lift your thigh over his shoulder. He does not move his finger in you, but as you open up for him he uses his other fingers to spread you wider. “You need another,” he whispers and inserts another one of his fingers next to the first one. He grunts watching his fingers spread you open.

“Now a taste,” he says and licks up from your opening up to your clit, flattening his tongue as he reaches your aching bundle, drawing circles, making your walls tighten around his fingers. He moves back to your hole then, lapping up all the arousal that trickles out of you around his fingers, and you can feel his soft groans vibrating against your pussy. He returns to your clit, licking and sucking, but his fingers still don't move, it’s like he’s keeping them still inside you just to observe all your reactions to his lips and tongue more closely. 

The room fills with the lewd sounds emitting from your chest and his occasional grunts. You feel yourself hovering on the edge of the ultimate pleasure, but Joel is in no rush. He’s devouring you just to enjoy your taste in his mouth, to feel the grip of your walls, to hear your sounds of pleasure, as you grind on his fingers, trying to chase your own pleasure.

“Not yet, baby, let me enjoy you,” he says, placing his other hand on your stomach, pinning you to the wall. Your muscles are tense in your whole body, but you feel completely weak at the same time. You are so close to your climax, but each time you near the edge, he pulls back, moving his mouth to pepper small kisses over your mound and on the crease of your thighs.

“Please, Joel, can’t anymore,” you whine, trying to move his head back to your aching core. “Please,” you plead again.

“Okay, baby girl, cum for me,” he murmurs as he returns to your clit, sucking it in his mouth while he curls his fingers inside you, having no trouble finding your most sensitive spot, sending you over the edge in an instant. Hot white pleasure blurring your vision, you feel yourself gushing all over his fingers, your walls gripping him and pulling him deeper. You can hear your blood rushing in your veins, his voice muffled from below; that's it, beautiful, you are doing so good baby. You can feel your knees weaken, your whole body going limp as the tension releases. 

He removes your leg from his shoulder and steadies you with his hands over your hips. He stands up and takes your hand walking you out to the bathroom. “Sit,” he says, pointing to the edge of the bathtub. You sit, needing to grab the edge of the tub to steady yourself, still dizzy from your orgasm.

He washes his face first and hands first. Your eyes follow the crimson streaks disappearing into the drain. He takes a cloth, wets it in the sink then kneels in front of you and slowly cleans the blood from you. Your eyes follow his hands, moving slowly and carefully over your soft skin. Your gaze darts at his pants then, his arousal evident, the hard shape of his length clearly visible through his jeans. You swallow, feeling the blood rush to your face. He notices and looks at you questioningly, but then continues to clean you.

Once he is satisfied, he stands again, opening some drawers, checking your cabinet, collecting a bottle of antiseptic and some gauze. He carefully applies the antiseptic and then dresses your wound, applying the gaze around your thigh and tucking in the end once he is finished.

He stands up then offers you his hand. You reach your hand, but instead of placing it in his palm, you stroke the front of his jeans, over his bulge.

“Let me–”, you whisper, but he brushes your hand away.

“No,” he says, voice cold and distant again. He looks at you, and you can’t find the man in his eyes you just saw minutes ago. “You should go to sleep,” he says, turning on his heels, leaving you in the bathroom with tears collecting in your eyes.

You are not sure how long you sit there, but you can hear his bike’s engine revving to life outside, leaving you alone with your heavy thoughts.

--

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated.

the lovelies who asked to be tagged: @spacecatbowtie, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, @joeldjarin

@pedrostories

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #tlou joel #joel miller fic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #cw: blood #dark!joel miller #dark! joel miller

[quietblueriver]

if you were still doin prompt? Beatrice as a zoo keeper/presenter and Ava in zoo/being involved?? Thanks if you still doin it x

Still here and delighted by prompts! Just dealing with life stuff, so I'm unfortunately unable to spend as much time writing as I'd like. Thanks for this, and thanks to everyone who has sent something.

Here's a little ornithologist!Bea fluff.

-

A toddler is already screaming, tiny hands opening and closing as they reach up toward their guardian, who is frantically searching through a small backpack, shaped like a lion’s head, for something. A slightly older child, ostensibly a sibling if the matching khaki shorts and purple otter shirts are any indicator, winces at the book in their lap. Beatrice sympathizes and makes a mental note to watch for their hand during the volunteer portion of the show. 

She’s distracted by a middle-aged man with a sunburn and a deep frown stepping boldly past the thick, bright yellow line and the corresponding, “Staff Only Beyond This Point” sign at the front of the stage to wave aggressively in Beatrice’s face. 

“Sir.” 

It’s tight and angry. Excellent. Beatrice forces a smile. 

“I have to ask you to step back behind the line, please.” 

His eyebrows raise at the pitch of her voice, and the familiar carousel of expressions of gender confusion passes over his face. He lands on disdain and, instead of stepping behind the line, runs his eyes up and down Beatrice’s body, squinting. “Ma’am. I guess. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. I do have to ask again that you step behind the line, please.” 

He looks down and scoffs, takes a half-step back, his brown leather sandals still well in front of the barrier, and she forces eye contact, looks pointedly at the line again until he backs up further. When he crosses into the guest area, she asks, as pleasantly as she can, “How can I help you?” 

Another child screams somewhere in the bleachers, this one old enough to express specific displeasure. “I don’t want to see the monkeys! I want to see the bears!”

“When is the show going to start? We’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.” 

She lets her eyes wander to the sign posted on the stage beside her, a match to the one posted outside the doors of the little stadium as well as the one at the entrance to the Wings of the World section of the park. She doesn’t need to look at it; two years into her partnership with the zoo, she’s well aware of every presentation time, but she’s exhausted and he’s been quite rude already, so she takes a moment to herself, pretending to read carefully. 

“We’ll begin at 2pm, so,” she looks down at her watch and continues, as lightly as she can, “about fifteen minutes from now.”

He turns on his heel and is gone, Beatrice left alone on the stage to focus again on the small table in front of her, treats and toys laid out neatly, small laminated note cards underneath a photo of each of the day’s avian guests, in case she should forget any of her points. It has happened–rarely, and always, frankly, the fault of distracting behavior on the part of her co-host–and she likes to be prepared for all eventualities.

She’s straightening the notes under Sam, their beautiful bald eagle, when she notices a pair of green and yellow sneakers stop just behind the yellow demarcation, carefully avoiding it.

“Hello,” Beatrice offers. 

Wide brown eyes blink up at her and one small hand releases its grip on a well-worn stuffed manatee to wave at her. 

“Hi.” 

A man’s hand reaches to rest gently on the child’s shoulder and he smiles at Beatrice. 

“We’re sorry to interrupt. Marnie is very excited about the show and wanted to come take a closer look at the stage before we sat down.” 

Beatrice walks to the edge of the stage and smiles back at him, nothing forced about this interaction, and then turns her attention to Marnie. 

“Not interrupting at all. Hi, Marnie. I’m Beatrice. I’m an ornithologist. Do you know what that is?” 

“Birds!” 

She’s exuberant, jumping, and Beatrice laughs. 

“Exactly. Birds! And actually,” she looks at her watch again, “I have to go back and get ready to bring out our first guest.” 

Marnie’s eyes get somehow wider, the manatee crushed to her chest. 

“Dad.” 

It’s nearly reverent. The man’s hand squeezes her shoulder again, and he says, “I know, love. So exciting. Let’s go find a seat.” 

Beatrice waves to them both and then ducks back through the door behind the rock wall, breathes deep and releases the tension in her shoulders as she leaves the waiting crowd behind. 

It’s not like she has to do these presentations. She is a professor with a tenure-track position at the university. She has been published several times in leading journals, and her last article garnered enough positive attention that she received approval and financing for her next project with relative ease. She is Dr. Beatrice Liu. She has worked hard for that. 

She is also very fond of Camila Aguilar, the zoo’s curator, and Yasmine Amunet, a colleague with a longstanding and incredibly popular show on the mammals of the Pacific Northwest. She hadn’t been able to resist their poking and prodding to be a guest speaker during their inaugural Wings of the World presentation two years ago. She had started and never stopped, expanding the university’s relationship with the zoo to allow her graduate students to engage in some hands-on research and forcing herself to step out of her comfort zone for something that she loves. 

She does love the birds, and she also loves the opportunity to foster a love for them in the audience, complicated feelings about zoo patronage and resources aside. She has been told by multiple colleagues and acquaintances that she is “surprisingly good with children.” One of her favorite backhanded compliments. She likes them, generally. Likes less the feeling of being overwhelmed by sound and social interaction, but the balance is worth it, she finds. 

Marnie’s big eyes flash in her mind, and she smiles to herself as she enters the key code on the door to the temporary housing unit. Marnie is going to love seeing Sam spread his wings. She remembers vividly the first time she saw an owl up close, a nighttime zoo exhibit during a school field trip, remembers the swoop in her stomach and the way her chest expanded with the bird’s wings. Awe, pure and deep and lasting enough to push her through her doctorate. 

It’s the reason why she does this. 

Well. 

One reason why she does this. 

The other reason is already in the room, humming to herself as she stands on tiptoes to look into the window of the small room where they’re keeping an injured barn owl. She startles at the beep of the door as Beatrice steps inside, smiles bright and peeks her head over Beatrice’s shoulder before stepping directly into her space and wrapping arms around her neck, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. 

“Hey, Bea.” 

Beatrice kisses her again, because she can, and feels Ava’s smile against her lips. 

“Hello.” 

Ava pulls back and runs her hands down Beatrice’s sleeves, squeezing her hands before nodding back at the window. 

“They say Barney should be good to go in a week.” 

Beatrice sighs at the name, as always, and Ava smirks, as always, delighted at her displeasure. 

“I’m glad. Do you think she should get a new name, in honor of her release?” 

Ava tsks and reaches for the tablet on the metal cart in the center of the room, swipes quickly before holding it out to Beatrice, a worryingly triumphant look on her face. She finds a photograph of one of the wooden name plates common to certain sections of the bird exhibit, a barn owl etched into it. There, inscribed next to its common and latin names, is Barney. 

A bigger sigh. “Well then. I suppose that’s it.” 

Beatrice’s watch vibrates and she hands Ava the tablet with another kiss, reaches for her leather gloves and says, approaching Sam’s container, “Here we go.” 

-

They met two years ago, during Beatrice’s first presentation. Camila introduced them with a little too much joy, unsubtle from the start, and Beatrice had been a bit overwhelmed by her at first–so incredibly beautiful and unapologetic and loud. 

She was also, Beatrice discovered quickly, incredibly passionate and excellent at her job. The zoo’s memberships skyrocketed as Ava took over their marketing and outreach, working hard to increase attendance, but also to build relationships with local universities and community organizations, finding funding to subsidize school field trips and community days and young patron science programs. 

Beatrice was one of her projects, and considered herself lucky to be on the receiving end of Ava’s focus. Ava’s emails were persistent but not pushy, her responses were prompt and professional, and each lunch, each conversation, was easy and interesting and fun. It was Beatrice, in the end, who nervously asked her if she might like to go to dinner sometime, the plans for a summer day camp and pellet dissection unromantically laid out between them. 

Ava grinned, eyed the pellet diagram and said with a raise of her eyebrows, “Way to set the mood, Bea.” She had eased the sting of that with a yes. And a kiss. 

Now, as Beatrice settles Sam on her arm, she hears Ava’s enthusiastic introduction and rolls her eyes fondly. 

“Believe me when I say, it’s going to be un-bird-lieveable. And now, friends, please do not put your hands together for Dr. Beatrice Liu and Sam the Bald Eagle.” 

Beatrice emerges to a crowd of people twisting their wrists to wave their hands in silent applause, and she takes a deep breath as Ava walks by with a wink, settling on the stool closer to the end of the stage. 

-

The show goes well. They balance each other, Ava’s energy and anecdotes and charm against Beatrice’s more staid approach, and the hushed gasps at Sam’s wingspan are as gratifying as ever. She catches Marnie gaping several times, makes a point to allow her and the reader she noticed before the show answer two of the pop quiz questions so that they can get a special bird stamp after the show. 

Ava stamps purple otter, Molly, and her little sister, Abigail, while Beatrice tidies, but when she sees Marnie approach, she sets the notecards down and moves to stand next to Ava, who gives her the little wooden stamp with a knowing smile. 

“Hi, Marnie. Did you like the show?” 

“It was awesome.” 

Beatrice smiles and crouches down, holding the stamp in Marnie’s direction, and she offers her hand eagerly, bouncing as she says, “The hawk was my favorite, but I liked all of them. How do you get them to listen to you? How do you know so much about all of them? It’s so cool.” 

Before Beatrice can answer, Ava’s down next to her, nodding seriously. “I know, right? Dr. Bea is the coolest.” 

Despite herself, Beatrice flushes, and says, quickly, “I went to school to study birds because I love them so much. And now I get to meet great people like you and talk about them.” 

Ava’s standing again, offers to Marnie’s father, practiced without sounding like a sales pitch, “We have some options for programming if that’s of interest.” She turns to the table behind them and then hands him a magnet, a monkey hanging around one of the zoo’s youth program QR codes. 

They leave shortly after, Marnie tugging on her father’s hand, eager to see the giraffes, and Beatrice returns to the table to finish cleaning. Ava’s hand runs across her shoulders as she comes to stand beside her, bumping their hips together. 

When they make their way back inside, she presses Beatrice against the door firmly, kissing her with purpose until they both need to breathe. 

“I really love listening to you, like, inspire young minds with your bird talk. Very hot. With your latin and your fun facts.” 

“My bird talk?”

“I said what I said. Dr. Bea, crowd favorite.” 

Beatrice shakes her head, kisses her again. 

“I don’t know, love. They seem to find your puns pretty emu-sing.” 

Ava groans in delight, slips her hands into Beatrice’s back pockets and says against her lips, “Holy shit, I love you.” 

#warrior nun #avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #warrior nun fic #wn prompt fic

[hacash]

"Alright, bruv?"

Sam doesn't even notice Isaac's presence until he thumps the locker next to Sam's head with his fist: the team captain's preferred form of greeting. He jumps, and then with a sigh goes back to staring at his phone. The beaming faces of the newly called-up Nigerian football team, resplendent in green and white. "Huh? Oh, yes. Yes, I'm fine, thank you."

"Bullshit," Isaac scoffs. "C'mon, what's wrong?"

Sam doesn't want to admit that anything's wrong. Treat your wins with humility and your losses with grace, that's what his father always says. But he supposes to do that you have to admit that there was a loss in the first place. Besides, if anyone would understand it's Isaac, Isaac who's never once been called up to the England team, who hadn't even looked up when Beard was reading out the roster. England team's bursting with great players anyway, he'd grunted when Colin had asked if he was alright. Even if I was good enough, don't think they're too keen to call up a guy who tried to throttle someone in the stands a month ago. Their loss then, Colin had said. That's, like, top of my list for qualities of a best mate. Not to mention team captain. Harry Kane's quaking in his boots whenever he sees you on the telly, boyo. And Isaac's face had split into this massive grin, and that had been that. "I just found out Edwin Afuko is the reason I didn't make the Nigerian team," he says. "What - that guy who tried to sign you up to his African super-team?" "Yeah," Sam sighs. "When I turned him down he told me I'd never play for the Nigerian national team. Now I found out he bribed the government - my home, Isaac, the place where I grew up - not to invite me onto the team." "Jesus Christ." "Yeah." "You think it was to do with the Dubai Air protest as well?" Isaac asks. "Like, this guy made us all look like a bunch of corrupt dickheads, we ain't gonna have him represent our country sort of thing?" Sam's eyes widen, and then slam shut as his head falls back against his locker. "Well I do now." "That's bullshit," Isaac announces. For once, Sam is tempted to agree. Isaac is staring intently at the ground. Finally he looks up and clears his throat with uncharacteristic caution. "Would you have done the same thing? The protest, staying at Richmond - if you knew it was gonna go down like this, I mean?" It's something he's not wanted to ask himself: but there it's been, niggling away like some horrible little imp in the back of his mind. Sam thinks about that photograph hanging on his childhood wall, the feeling he had strolling through the British Museum alongside Edwin. He thinks about running over the beaches of Lagos as a child, how it felt to see those pictures of the destruction and the dying animals on those same beaches. The thrill of returning to the Premier League. The teenagers who'd come up to him in the street, newly arrived and still stumbling over their English, thanking him for speaking out even as the glass was still being swept up at Ola's. Men like Gary Lineker and Ian Wright quoting his tweets on Match of the Day, and the UK government not being able to do anything to stop them. The way his heart had skipped, seeing young men just like him playing on Richmond Green wearing his jersey. "Of course I would," he says finally. "I couldn’t have taken a place on the team if it meant not speaking out." "Right. You wouldn't have been happy just sitting down and shutting up. Or playing for some rich prick who bribes people all the time. And it's totally shit, but - I guess it's, like, the price you've gotta pay right now for doing so much awesome stuff." "I suppose it's worth that." They sit together in companionable silence for a little while. Finally Sam sighs. "I still really want to play for the Nigerian national team though, Isaac." Isaac nods and sets an arm around his shoulders. "You will, bruv. I know you will."

-

For @boasamishipper​. There’s something really interesting about seeing reality ensue when Sam faces the backlash of following his heart - but I’d have loved to get a little scene like this.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #my fanfiction #isaac mcadoo #sam obisanya

[m-writes-stories]

I’m Always Here - Part 2

Word Count: 2329

Warnings: language, arguing, hints of sex, passing out

A/N: this is part two to the “I’m Always Here” story. We just started writing part 6. So get excited.

7 months later

The Notre Dame stadium was packed with fans. You and Avery were on the sidelines, waiting for Sam to come to them. It was a night game which you loved. Sam’s parents watched them.

The lights in the stadium went out.

“You ready Avs?”

She nodded, smiling.

You walked towards the locker room. You and Avery waited outside the locker room.

The boys came out of the locker room and Sam was last. He walked over.

“Hey there’s my fav girls,” he said as he walked over and grabbed Avery and kissed you.

“Are you nervous?” Y/n asked.

“Nah, it's a normal everyday game. You know how it is,” he says. He gives Avery a kiss on the top of her head and hands her back to you.

“Good luck handsome.” You smile.

You watched as he walked off.

“Alright Avs here we go.”

“Yay, it’s time to watch dada play!” she said. You winced a little hoping that she wouldn’t get too attached just in case.

It was freezing at halftime.

“Mama I cold,” Avery said.

“I know, baby. Let’s go get you a new sweatshirt. We’ll make Sam pay for it.”

You went to the store inside the stadium.

“Which one do you want, babygirl?” you asked Avery.

She pointed to one with Sam’s number on it. You took it off the hanger and took it to the counter to pay for it.

“Crap I don’t have my-“

“I’ve got it.” Y/n heard from behind her.

You turned to look.

“Travis. Uh no it’s ok. I’ll just run down to the locker room and see if they can give me one of Sam’s.”

“Nah I got it.”

“No, Travis. It’s fine. I don’t need you to buy it.”

“Hey I gotcha.” It was Alex, an assistant of the team.

“Thanks Alex.”

“So you’re gonna let a random guy buy MY daughter a sweatshirt but not me?” Travis said, raising his voice.

You picked up Avery and walked away with the sweatshirt. You helped her put it on heading to the locker room.

“No, Y/N get the fuck back here. We aren’t done talking.”

You walked faster holding her tighter and saw Sam when you rounded the corner.

“Take her please,” you said as you handed Avery to Sam. You turned towards Travis. “Out now. We will talk, but not in front of her.”

“You’re joking?”

“No, now move.”

You both walked out of the locker room.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Travis asked you.

“Excuse me?”

“You aren’t around for like 7 months and all of sudden you come to Sam’s game and offer to buy MY daughter a sweatshirt. You showed up out of nowhere trying to act like father of the year. Well guess what Travis. You aren’t father of the year. You aren’t even a father.”

He looked at her.

“What the fuck do you mean I’m not a father?” he looked at her.

“You don’t have anything to do with her.”

“But I want to have something to do with her though.”

“Why you’re bored with Taylor fucking Swift already? That was fucking fast. At least with me you had a child. What 4 months with her and you’re ready to leave her behind?”

“It’s not like-“

“Not like what Travis?!”

“I want to have Avery in my life. I just messed up. Taylor has really helped me turn my life around. I haven’t been drinking as much, really not at all. I regret everything that I said that night. I miss you. Yeah I like Taylor, but you and I were different.”

“I’m not forgiving you so easily, we’ll talk later on about this. I need to get this together and think it over.”

“When can we talk?”

“I don’t know Travis. This is a lot to think about. And I hate to break it to you, but she has gotten really close with Sam and I hate to split them up.”

“So what? You’re saying he’s her new dad?”

“Yeah, in her head.”

“Why the fuck would you let that happen?”

“You have not been around for her, Travis. You walked out. Not me. He has been there for her time and time. He was there when she had the flu, when she cut her knee open at daycare and I was at work. He was there when you weren’t.”

You walked away not caring anymore.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“Travis, quit. Go home. I’ll call you sometime next week.”

“Next week?”

“Yes Travis. Because I have a new life. Where I have a full-time job and a kid at home that I take care of. I’ll call you next week when I have time.”

“Ok. Can I at least say hi to her?”

“Why don’t we all go to dinner? She needs to eat and you guys can see each other.”

——

That following week she was at a dinner party all dressed up attending by herself. She was wearing a Swarovski crystal dress that had a thigh high slit. She walked into the room and saw a ton of people.

She had been asked to go by one of Sam’s bosses. Told she was to make an appearance to show she was supportive. She didn’t want to go. But she especially didn’t want to go because Travis was rumored to be at the party with Taylor.

She saw Travis alone.

“Where’s Taylor?” You asked.

“She’s not here.” He said.

“No shit Sherlock. Where is she?”

“Well, we broke up.”

“I’m so sorry Travis.”

“It’s ok. She didn’t like what happened between the two of us. And she said that what I said was stupid. And that I should have never treated you and Avery like that.”

She sat beside him.

“I really do love you, Y/N.”

“Travis, if you are drunk right now and telling me that I will murder you.”

He looked at her.

“And will chop off your dick.”

“I’m not drunk. I promise. But I am telling you the truth, I never once stopped loving you. And I will attempt to make it up to you every single day if you let me.”

“ Travis, I am with Sam. And you know that.”

“I know, but I promise I’ll be more active in Avery’s life.”

“I love Sam.”

“You love him?”

“I do. But I also love you. But you hurt me. More than anyone else has hurt me.”

“I know I’m so sorry. But at least let me be in Avery’s life, please.”

“Ok. Come over tomorrow, and let’s sit down and talk. Ok?”

He nodded.

“I’ll text you the address and come over around 11.”

“So , can I ask, where’s Avery tonight?”

“Not that you really need to know, but she’s with Sam.”

He nodded.

“I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” you said to him.

He leaned in and kissed you.

——

Travis pulled into the driveway and parked the car. He walked up to the front door of your house and knocked. You opened the door slightly.

“Hey, um come in.”

Travis walked in seeing her in a robe.

“Um, did I come at a bad time?”

“No, you came at the right time. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Baby, who is at the door?” Sam yelled from your bedroom, as he walked out from your guys’ bedroom naked.

“Oh,” Sam said, walking back behind the corner.

You crossed your legs hoping Travis wouldn’t notice.

“Um, I can go back outside for a minute or ten. So you guys can get situated,” Travis said.

“No, you can stay here. Avery is still napping but if you want to wait about an hour she should be awake. We tried to get her napping schedule to line up with you coming over, but it didn’t work out.”

You walked back towards your bedroom, pulling Sam in too.

In your room

“What the fuck, Y/N? You said 11.”

“It is 11. Don’t yell at me cause you were too busy with your own problems.”

“My problems?”

“Yeah, your problem. Your problem of acting the world revolves around you because you are some hotshot college football star.”

“Where the fuck is this coming from?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you should go. I think this will be better for Travis, Avery and I to talk.”

“Talk about what. Are we done?”

“Maybe. You haven’t been around as much as you were in the beginning. And now ever since Travis said he wanted to be around you have caused problems every day.”

“I’m gonna go then. I’ll come back tomorrow to grab the rest of my things,” Sam said, grabbing his clothes and going into your connected bathroom.

– –

She looked at Travis, “sorry” you mouthed.

He shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said.

“No it’s not, that was messed up. But anyway Avery should be walking up anytime soon.”

“Ok.”

You walked into the bathroom and grabbed the counter.

You let out a shaky breath. Tears sprung to your eyes. You felt a presence behind you.

“It’ll be ok, you know,” Travis said.

“They are just so close. I don’t want to ruin that.”

She turned around and hugged him.

“You know I love the both of you right?”

“Yeah, I know. But can I be honest?” you asked

“If you tell me that you are in love with me too, I might do something that we regret.”

“What if I want you to?”

Travis kissed you.

“You mean that?”

You kissed back. Travis put you on the counter. Things got heated fast.

——

About an hour later, you woke up to Avery crying. Travis bolted to her.

“Babygirl, what’s wrong.” He asked, hugging her.

“Nightmare.”

“Daddy’s here babygirl nothing is gonna get you.”

“Daddy, I hungry. I want pancakes,” Avery saud with a massive smile on her face.

You were standing in the doorway.

“Should we make pancakes for mommy?”

“Yeah.”

Travis set Avery down and she took off running towards the kitchen.

“I’m glad we are doing this,” you said as Travis pulled you in for a hug.

“Me too. I think it will be good for her. And us.”

“I think we should definitely talk though. I’m technically still with Sam.”

“After the argument you guys had you’re gonna say you are still together.”

“Well, I didn’t 100% say I wanted to break up with him.”

“So what was that we just did?”

“I don’t know Travis. I want this to happen but I need to officially end things with Sam before we happen.”

He sighed.

“Travis-“

“I’m gonna go make pancakes with Avery.”

Travis went to go make pancakes with Avery. You sat there on the bed wondering what to do. You got up and went into the kitchen.

You saw Travis and Avery with flour all over the kitchen.

“Hi mama,” Avery said.

“Hi baby girl. How’s the pancakes coming?”

“Good. Daddy burnt one though.”

“Oh that’s ok. I bet there are more that are good.”

You and Travis made eye contact.

You began cleaning up Avery and the kitchen getting rid of the flour. You were wiping down the counters when you both heard Avery run into the living room. You chuckled.

“Mama, can we watch football?”

“Avs it’s Saturday. It’s only college today.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Travis, do you play tomorrow?”

“Yeah. It’s a home game against the Broncos. Do you guys want to go?”

“Um, it depends on what time it is.”

“It’s a noon game.”

“What are we doing? What are we? Cause we had-“

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: (idk if this will work)

@armystay89, @mellyie

#m-writes-stories #travis kelce #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce fanfic

[teaberrii]

Chapter Fifteen: The Forum

Alhaitham has the looks and the smarts. He will also be the stand-in CEO for his grandfather's company for a year.

But, he's been mysteriously cursed to turn into a cat every night since his eighteenth birthday… until he meets you, an employee at his grandfather's company, who rescues him as a cat and changes him back with one kiss.

Alhaitham/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on AO3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

When your alarm goes off that morning, Alhaitham and Childe are the first to pop into your mind. Did Childe turn back? Is he okay? Did Alhaitham learn anything new about the curse? You've just finished getting dressed when you hear a loud knock at your door. Once you open it, you see Childe and Alhaitham. Childe's wearing Alhaitham's clothes and seeing him in an aesthetic different from his usual colourful style is a little strange. Alhaitham, on the other hand, looks fine as always.

“Mornin', Ms. Cat Collector."

“Very funny,” you deadpan, letting the men inside. Then, you and Childe give each other a quick hug. “Glad you’re back.”

“Well, I was under good care.”

You look from Childe to your boyfriend. Then, with a slight smile, you say, “I guess you two bonded last night.”

Childe puts a hand over his heart. “It was an emotional moment."

“I told him everything we know so far,” Alhaitham says in his usual calm voice.

You nod and turn to Childe. “Did you talk to Lumine?”

“I sent her a text this morning."

“So… what happened yesterday night?”

“Beats me.” Childe sighs. “I told your CEO boyfriend I was talking with my mom when it happened.”

You glance at Alhaitham, who subtly shakes his head. Guess he didn’t find out what the conversation was about.

“...DId you call your mom back?” you ask. “She called you multiple times yesterday night, didn’t she?”

“It’s nothing important,” Childe says, not looking at you. “Don’t worry about it.” Then, in a cheerier tone, “So, shall we head to work?”

You raise a brow. “Someone's eager.”

“Well, it’s not every day you get a ride with the CEO.”

A short while later, you, Alhaitham, and Childe are in the lobby and are joined by Alhaitham's secretary. As you make your way to the car, you can't ignore this feeling that you're being watched. You stop and turn around, but there's no one in sight.

“Is something wrong?” Alhaitham asks.

"...I think we were being watched." Then, as Alhaitham subtly looks around, you say, "Maybe I'm imagining things."

“Hey!” Childe calls from the car. “What’s the holdup?”

Alhaitham follows you toward the car, occasionally looking over his shoulder. Yet, he sees nothing out of the ordinary.

◆◆◆

Lumine is finishing her design assignment when Childe's message from this morning comes back to haunt her: Sorry, Lulu. I was caught up with something yesterday.

She'd asked if everything was fine. When the only reply she got was a smiley emoji and a thumbs-up, she didn't reply. It's not like he told her what was happening, so she has nothing to say. Lumine remembers what you told her over the phone yesterday night. Childe wouldn't treat someone he's interested in the same as everyone else. Well, Lumine doesn't feel any different from everyone else. She doesn't feel that much different from… you.

Over the years, she'd seen how close you and Childe got. She was sure that Childe had a crush on you, but he would deny it every time she'd asked. While that doesn't matter anymore, Lumine wonders why Childe bothers still hanging out with her when he's already in the workforce. She's a poor graduate student working part-time. There are so many sophisticated women out there.

“Should I be surprised you’re still reading in the same spot where we first met, Lumine?”

She quickly turns around at the familiar male voice. “Kaeya?” Her senior smiles at her, and she smiles back. “What in the world are you doing here?”

Kaeya was in his last year when Lumine entered her first year of graduate school, and they met in this campus library. They both wanted the same book, and he eventually let her have it first.

“I’m here for a seminar.” Kaeya sits in front of her. “I thought of texting you, but why not a surprise visit instead?”

“And what if you didn’t find me?”

“I took a chance. And, I guess luck is on my side today.” Lumine starts putting away her laptop when Kaeya asks, “Are you free right now? I’d like to treat you to coffee.”

Lumine smiles and nods. At least it’ll take her mind off of Childe.

Kaeya takes Lumine to a nearby campus coffee shop, the place where they once had a group study session with mutual friends. Despite Lumine's insistence, Kaeya still paid for their drinks. 

"I'm your senior," Kaeya laughs. "I should be treating you, not the other way around."

Once they sit across from each other with their drinks, he says, "This place brings back memories."

“Don’t tell me you miss the poor student life.”

Kaeya shrugs. “Being a student has its pros and cons.”

Lumine sips her drink. “I think it has more cons right now.”

“Something bothering you, little junior?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well… you don’t look too happy. Call it a hunch, but it seems something’s on your mind.”

Lumine has never opened up to Kaeya about her personal problems. Sure, she sought him out when she was having trouble academically. But she isn’t sure if she wants to open up to him about… boy problems and maybe even her insecurities.

“I’m always happy to lend an ear, Lumine,” Kaeya continues. “Whatever it may be, as long as you’re comfortable talking about it.”

Well, maybe it won't hurt to get a guy’s perspective.

However, just before she can say anything, her phone buzzes. She quickly looks at it and sees a message from Childe: We had Takoyaki at the office today. Reminded me of the ones we had together a few nights ago. Want me to save you some and drop it off for you?

Unbeknownst to Lumine, Kaeya glances from her and then to her phone. He can't see the message, but he takes a guess. “...Is it a guy?”

Lumine quickly looks up and slips her phone inside her pocket. "...He's my sister's friend. And mine too. But I guess I've been getting some mixed signals from him. It's been kinda bothering me since I'm not sure what to think about it."

“Do you like this guy?”

“...I don’t know. But when I’m with him, it feels like it’s going in that direction, and I’m not sure what I really want.”

“I’m just speculating… but maybe both of you are unsure.”

“You think?" Lumine asks. "But, I thought that if a guy likes a girl, it’s rare they would be aloof about it.”

“That’s true. What I just said was thinking from a positive side. You could also think that this guy is keeping his options open.”

Childe wouldn’t do that. Would he?

“How well would you say you know this guy?” Kaeya continues.

“We pretty much grew up together. But he knew my sister first.”

“Ah…”

“But she’s with someone now."

"Could it be that you're unsure because you don't know how he feels? If this guy confessed to you, what would you say?"

As soon as Kaeya sees a faint but visible blush on Lumine's cheeks, he has the answer he needs. But, regardless, he waits for her answer.

“That’s way too sudden. I… I would need time to think about it!”

To her surprise, Kaeya smiles. "Listen, I'm hosting a beach party next weekend. So why don't you come down and have a little fun? Diluc will be running the bar, and you'll see some other friends."

Kaeya pulls out his phone. Soon, Lumine hears her phone buzz. This time, it's a message from Kaeya. He sent her a bright, colourful poster of the evening beach party.

“Bring your sister and Aether along, too.”

A party, huh?

◆◆◆

That afternoon, Alhaitham is pacing around his office with his phone in his hand. His wireless earphones are snug in his ears.

“What do you mean you’re not going to have a say in the company’s next project?” his grandfather asks.

It’s almost time for the leadership team to review the idea submissions for the company’s next big film project. Alhaitham is supposed to be a part of it, but he decided to drop out.

“Ah… is it because she is participating?”

The last thing Alhaitham wants you to think is that he's favouring you because of the relationship. Besides, it's not like your relationship will remain a secret forever. Rumours would spiral out of control if you got chosen and people found out he was part of the judging panel. Alhaitham knows no one can control what other people say, so don't give them a chance to say something you don't want them to.

"Yes. It would put both of us in an uncomfortable and awkward position if people found out that I was on the team that decided the next project."

His grandfather sighs. “That’s true. I suppose people will look back and say you were favouring her if she got chosen.”

“I don't want to give her a hard time.”

“Well, I understand. It’s a logical reason. But, I guess that would mean you’re seeing her with the intention of marrying her.”

“Is that all you can think of?” Alhaitham deadpans. “Marriage?”

“Is it wrong of me to want a grandbaby?”

No. But Alhaitham also has an agenda of his own. “I’m seeing her with the intent of taking this relationship seriously. If we do get married, we’ll let it happen naturally.”

After getting off the phone with his grandfather, Alhaitham heads out of his office and takes the elevator to the lobby. Once he does, he sees Childe, Ayato, Thoma, and a small camera crew. Ayato must've been here for a project. As soon as the men see each other, Ayato waves him over.

“What a nice surprise,” Ayato says.

Once the camera team leaves, Childe says, "Well, the cat crew's all here."

“...I guess you told him everything,” Alhaitham says to Childe.

"Not quite," Ayato says, looking at Childe. "Frankly, I'm still interested in the conversation between you and your mother. That could be the key to why you changed."

Childe crosses his arms. “Since both of you think that’s so important, long story short, my parents are moving back to Snezhnaya. I’m not going with them. If that’s all it takes for someone to turn into a cat, we're all screwed.”

“Oh, wow. What’s everyone doing here?” You’ve just walked into the building with a cup of coffee. “Secret meeting?” you joke.

Alhaitham swears he sees something move out of the corner of his eye. When he looks in that direction, nothing seems out of place. Maybe he imagined it, but then he remembers you mentioning the feeling of being watched this morning.

“Something like that,” Ayato says, playing along. “The Strays are thinking of their next move on what to do with the curse.”

"Didn't think you'd come up with our band name that quickly," Childe says. He nudges Alhaitham. "But this guy ain't a stray. I guess you can say he's already adopted."

Alhaitham looks at him. “I guess I’m the secret member.”

Ayato laughs. "I never expected you to play along, Alhaitham. I guess you have a sense of humour behind your icy facade, after all."

Childe snickers. “He’s definitely a tsundere.”

“Sounds like someone watches too much animation," Alhaitham says.

“What? I’m a proud geek,” Childe huffs.

“Seems like The Strays have good chemistry,” you say, looking at the three bickering men in front of you. “That’s a good sign.”

“Ayato, we should go,” Thoma says. “You have a schedule coming up.”

“Right.” Then, Ayato smiles at the group. “Well, if you’ll excuse me.”

Thoma walks beside Ayato as they leave the building and asks, "It seems like you're getting along well with them."

“I would say so. All of us have a common goal, after all.”

“...But, regarding her, are you… okay?”

Ayato glances at his friend. “...Are you asking if I’m okay being around her?”

Thoma nods. "To be honest, I wanted to ask her to stay away. I was afraid she would bring up bad memories."

Ayato admits there's still a sense of… nostalgia when he looks at you. But you're not her. Besides, he knows he cannot live in the past forever. He needs to move on.

“There’s no need for her to stay away,” Ayato says calmly. Before he gets in the car, he looks Thoma in the eyes. “She is a friend.”

Thoma gives him a small smile and nods.

Back in the building, you and Childe part ways with Alhaitham. However, it doesn’t take long for you to receive a text from him.

Catman: If you sense anything strange, call me.

Anything strange? You suddenly remember the feeling you got this morning. Did Alhaitham sense it just now? After you hit a reply, you notice an uncharacteristically serious expression on Childe’s face. He’s staring at his phone.

“Hey,” you say. He looks at you. “Everything okay?”

Childe slides his phone into his pocket. “Do you know someone named Kaeya?”

It takes you a moment, but the name finally rings a bell. “Oh, yeah. He’s Lumine’s senior. Why?”

“...He invited her to a beach party. She also said that he invited you and Aether, too.”

“And is that something to be all down in the dumps for?” You chuckle. “Hang on a minute… are you… are you jealous, Childe?”

The elevator doors open, and you and Childe step inside just as he points to himself. “Me? Jealous?" He presses for yours and his floor. "I’m not that petty." The doors close. "I’m not your CEO boyfriend who didn’t want his girlfriend to hug a cute, innocent cat.”

You smile. “Well, someone’s defensive.”

After a moment of silence, Childe sighs softly. "Who is this Kaeya guy anyway? I’ve never heard of him, and I’ve been friends with you and Lulu for years.”

"I only met him a few times, so I don't know much about him. But from what I remember, he's a fun guy. He tutored Lumine at one point."

“He tutored her?”

You glance at him. “Yeah… They had a few private sessions.”

“Private sessions?” Childe quickly clears his throat. “Are… are you going to go?”

"A beach party does sound fun. Why don’t you go with Lumine?”

“...It’s an evening party.”

“...Ah.”

A pause.

“Do you think I should tell her? About… the situation, I mean. I don’t want to tell her because I don’t want to risk the secret getting out. I know Lumine can keep a secret, but I'm afraid it might accidentally slip out, you know.”

“Answer me honestly, Childe. Do you like her?”

Childe likes being with Lumine. He enjoys her company just as much as yours. He also likes teasing and messing around with her. However, Childe has never heard Lumine talk about other guys besides Aether, so this is a foreign feeling. But maybe he's bothered by Kaeya's intentions; maybe Childe just wants to look out for her. Whatever it is, Childe admits he feels a little annoyed by Kaeya. Does this mean he likes Lumine in a different way than he likes you?

"If you like her, you should tell her. Or else she will get the wrong idea, and then it'll be too late. I don’t think you want to be a part of The Strays forever.”

The elevator doors open on Childe’s floor.

Childe smiles. “Who knows? Maybe I’m going to be the Professional Bachelor now.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

Childe gives you a wave and steps out. Then, the doors slide shut.

◆◆◆

It's almost time to get off work, and you've been feeling accomplished for what you've done. Your team proposal for the company's project is almost complete. It just needs some finishing touches. You're heading to the lounge to get snacks when you see some employees coming down from the opposite hall. You happen to overhear their conversation.

“Yeah… it’s scary. There’s apparently some people from our company on that forum.”

Forum? What forum?

“Do you think it’s run by some noisy tabloid reporter?”

“I don’t know… but some of the rumours on there turned out to be true!”

Their conversation is now out of their earshot, and you feel a little uneasy. That’s when you hear Alhaitham say your name. 

“What brings you here?” you ask, smiling.

“I had a meeting.” He hands you an expensive drink and a snack you recognize from one of those high-end bakeries. Then, he gives you a soft smile. “I thought you might like this on one of your breaks.”

You take it from him. “Why thank you, Mr. CEO. You read my mind.” Then, you say jokingly, “I don’t have to give anything in return, right?”

Alhaitham slides a hand inside his pocket. He has a slightly mischievous smile as he quietly says, "Your love is all I need."

You pretend to gag. “Cliché.” But then, with a smile, you say just as quietly, “I would gladly give you all my love in the world, Mr. CEO.”

Alhaitham is clearly not expecting this flirtatious response, and a faint but visible blush appears on his cheeks. He quickly composes himself, however. Then, his expression turns serious. “The text I sent you earlier today.”

“Ah, right… did something happen?”

“...I thought I saw something. I wouldn’t have thought much of it, but I remembered you told me you felt like you were being watched this morning.”

“...I really hope it’s nothing.” A slight pause. “I overheard something about a forum… apparently there’s some information about people from the company?”

“I’m aware. The most recent incident is what brought it to the leadership’s attention.”

“...What happened?”

“There was a statement that a company employee was stealing funds for illegal activities.”

Your eyes widen. “...Did they have evidence?”

“There was. So, we’re looking into it.”

“Putting it positively, it sounds like this person did the company a favour.”

“It does sound like they did a good deed,” Alhaitham says. “If only there weren’t other information on that site.”

“That doesn’t sound good….”

"We had the security team look into this site, and information, including the private lives of employees, have been leaked. Employees at this company aren't the only ones being targeted."

You raise a brow. “It would be too much for one person. Sounds like it's a group effort. But what are they trying to accomplish? Employees aren’t celebrities.”

“...That’s a good question. But whatever their motives are… not all of them are with good intentions.” Alhaitham almost takes your hand but stops himself in time. “So… be careful.”

You nod. “You as well.”

◆◆◆

“Have you thought about what you want to do after graduation, Lumine?”

Lumine came to seek her professor's help for an assignment that evening when her professor brought up an unexpected question. Well, maybe it isn't that unexpected, considering she's in her last semester. So, it's definitely time she starts thinking about her future plans.

"Sort of… I'm interested in making character designs for games and stuff. So it's a little different than what I'm doing now."

Her professor takes out a colourful poster from her drawer. “Well, you’re in luck. The university’s participating in a regional design competition where your work will be evaluated by renowned companies looking to hire. It’s the latest initiative to help graduates get jobs.”

“A competition?”

“Are you interested?”

Lumine looks down at the poster. She is. But… what if she's not good enough? While she doesn't think she's bad at what she does, she definitely doesn't think she's amazing like her classmates. Lumine describes herself as average. Just talented enough to get by or at least… survive.

"You don't have to answer now," her professor says. "But let me know by the end of the week if you're interested."

Lumine nods and puts the poster and her assignment into her bag.

As she heads for the bus stop, she glances at her phone. Aether had already said he was going to the party. You've also agreed. The only person who hasn't said anything is Childe. It's strange, she thinks. She thought he would jump at the opportunity to attend a party. She never thought he would be silent.

Just as she gets to the bus stop, her phone buzzes, and her heart suddenly beats a little faster. But one look at her phone and her jitteriness turn into an entirely different feeling.

Isn’t this your sister?

It's a text from one of her classmates. When Lumine opens the message, she sees a screenshot of two women. Lumine has to look closely to see which one you are, as you and the other women look like twins.

She looks SO much like Ayato’s ex. Omg.

Ayato’s…ex? Before Lumine can even question or process what’s happening, she sees another message.

Is she dating Ayato?

And then comes another photo. Lumine wasn't there, but she's sure this is taken at the Awards Night with how everyone's dressed and the venue. But this time, it's you and Ayato, with him holding your hand and you looking back.

What is going on?

Chapter Sixteen

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @sakiimeo @ash-in-lavender @ceylestia @forsh4dow @deathkat657 @kalpie @elernity @sentieence @chichibleeps @sunsethw4 @hjjks @tanspostsblog @nqctre @just-simping-over-genshin @uchihaeirin @vynbin @ayanokomu @dksfl920 @alatus1808 @itztaki @thetwinkims @imkaaayy @angeilix @starlighttotheleft @letthewindlead @thelonelyarchon

#alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #genshin impact alhaitham #genshin al haitham #al haitham x reader #al haitham x y/n #al haitham #al haitham fluff

[black-is-beautiful18]

The Unexpected Ch3- Mother Knows Best

K’uk’ulkan x Black reader

Translations-

Xhosa: sithandwa sam- my love

intombi encinci- little girl

ingelosi- angel

umntwana wam- my child

sithandwa- dear

Yucatec Maya: In Eek’e’- my star

——————————

Mother liked-no, loved, chocolate.

She loved it so much that that sweet tooth of hers seemed to get passed down to me. That’s why we’re sitting here right now enjoying a platter of assorted chocolates and fine Wakandan wine.

Offerings.

Mother insists that I don’t have to bring her an offering each time I come to see her at her little home along the river, but I would feel bad if I didn’t come with something.

“That’s only for my followers. You’re my daughter.” She’d insist only for me to wave her off.

It’s been awhile since my last visit but she doesn’t seem to mind. She knows how things have been. In fact, she knows a little too much.

“Tell me what troubles your heart, sithandwa sam.”

Her deep brown skin glows in the rays of sunlight that shine through the window giving her an ethereal look as she lifts her glass to her lips. I wonder if that same glow is what K’uk’ulkan sees when he looks at me? The very thought causes my face to grow warm and I look away from her.

My silence draws a raised eyebrow from her.

“Is this about a certain king with feathers on his feet?”

Popping a piece of chocolate in her mouth, my mother leans forward a mischievous look on her face.

”Let me guess,” She looks me over.” He has given you a serious proposition, and he came to visit you last night.” Resting her chin in her hand she giggles.” He’s even given you a nice little present.”

My hand goes to the choker around my neck. It really is a lovely piece of jewelry and I couldn’t bring myself to let it just sit in my jewelry box. Pursing my lips I try my best to school my expression as not to give anything away.

“It isn’t nice to spy.”

With a roll of her eyes and a suck of her teeth, my mother pushes the platter to the side.

“I wasn’t spying. It has been weeks since I’ve seen you, so forgive me if I grew worried and wanted to check up on you. And I doubt I need to remind you of the attack. Or would you rather I sneak into your room like he did? Though I don’t think you’d enjoy it as much as you did with him.”

My jaw drops.

“Mother!”

Throwing her head back, she laughs. A sound that sends a wave of warmth and embarrassment through me. I cross my arms pouting as I silently curse that mirror of hers.

Waving me off, her golden bracelets jingle and she chuckles.” You were never good at hiding your facial expressions intombi encinci. The way you both were looking at each other was completely scandalous.” She fans herself with her hand and I groan, making her laugh even more.” Oh! And that moment near the river bank? Kissing your hand and your wrist? What a gentleman.”

I put my head on the table and she reaches over massaging my scalp as she coos softly.

“…I like him mama, but how could I possibly accept his proposal after all he’s done? It feels like a betrayal.” Tears of frustration prickle at my eyes and I quickly blink them away. Before I can blink again, I’m in my mothers arms. She lays my head on her chest and I clothes my eyes breathing her in. She smells of the sea just like him.

“I know ingelosi. I was upset as well.”

I snort. Don’t I know it. Cleaning up after the flood was definitely interesting. Mother and the other water spirits inhabiting the rivers were livid. Not only had the Talokanil entered the rivers without permission but there were many that died that day due to either drowning or at the hands of the Talokanil themselves…Then there was Queen Mother. She and mama had formed a friendship of sorts once it was revealed exactly who, and what, my birth mother was. That was a personal slight on several different levels.

Her arms tighten around me and she sighs.” Do you want to know what I saw in the mirror all those years ago?” Her voice takes on a much softer tone and I look up at her, my brow furrowing. She means the reason why she purposely gave me to the royal family. I hadn’t figured out that it was for a reason until recently. She gives me a gentle smile and kisses my forehead.

“I saw you. And him. How happy he will make you and how he’ll absolutely adore you. His people as well.” My mother chuckles.” He’ll be obsessed. Whether for better or worse, I’m not sure, but I’m certain he’ll make an excellent husband. Wakanda and Talokan will flourish thanks to your union. It will never be forgotten.” A giggle.” And you’ll have many beautiful children.”

Her words cause my heart to swell and my cheeks to heat up again.

“You saw all of that?” I whisper in awe.

“Just like I saw how essential it would be for you to be with the royal family. I knew you’d be special umntwana wam. I just had no idea how it would all unfold.” She moves a braid out of my face.” And don’t worry about Shuri. Your sister will be ok. You both will be well taken care of.”

Strange isn’t it? How mother’s have that thing about them that makes everything alright and eases all your fears?

“But what do I say to him? How do we even go about courting? There are so many things to consider.” I mutter sitting up.

Mama nudges me.” Hush. Worry about that when the time comes, and yes. He has my permission to court you.” She reaches for her glass, downing the rest of the wine.

I smile at her feeling lighter than I have since K’uk’ulkan asked to court me.

That doesn’t last long.

“So what are you wearing tonight?”

I tense and look at her.” Huh?” She takes one look at me and busts out laughing. I must look so lost right now.

“The dinner? The one you’ve been so stressed about.”

My heart sinks and I scramble to pull up the time on my kimoyo beads.

4:30

Bast!

Shaking her head, Mama gets up, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the door.

“W-where are you going?” My mind is running a mile a minute. I have to shower, do my hair, pick out an outfit…

“I’m going with you. We need to pick out something nice for your fiancé. Preferably something that says ‘Take me. I’m yours.’”

“Mother!”

——————————

Wearing his best robes, Namor was flanked by Namora and Attuma as well as a few from his own council. It looks like they come bearing gifts. As soon as they’d stepped out of the river his eyes were searching for her.

His eek’e’.

Things have been moving smoothly between Talokan and Wakanda, so to commemorate the start of a new friendship this dinner was set up. M’Baku thought it would be best to show that despite how things had started, Wakanda was willing to move forward and be allies. It would also be nice to set things off with a sort of festive mood. The Golden City was in full swing it seemed. The elders had come dressed in their finest as well and so did those that hoped to catch a glimpse of the god-king and his entourage.

Things had been going very well. Words and greetings had been exchanged between both groups, but Y/N had yet to show up. Shuri was there and she seemed to be annoyed about something. Despite her annoyance though she was civil. She was mainly wondering where Y/N was. In fact, she was just about to leave to find her sister when there was movement in the river. Shuri pays it no mind when nothing happens but quickly does a double take.

Rising out of the river is Y/N’s mother, Tameka. She’s dawning the colors of the river tribe and decked out in jewels that shine and chime like bells. Her hair is up in an elegant bun with pearls pinned throughout it. Water clings to the skin that is showing like dew drops, but her clothes aren’t wet. If Shuri wasn’t sure of beings like gods existing, Tameka was the proof that something was out there. Shuri is no stranger to Tameka since she is her sister’s birth mother but she certainly wasn’t expecting to see her here. Excusing herself, Shuri goes to greet her quickly being pulled into a hug that makes her smile.

“Auntie! I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Well I heard there were certain developments and had to see them for myself. How are you, sithandwa?” She takes Shuri’s hands in hers, rubbing the Black Panther’s knuckles gently with her thumbs.

Shuri shrugs.” All things considered, I’m fine. Though I’m curious as to where Y/N is. It’s unusual for her to be late, and a certain someone is getting antsy.” With a roll of her eyes she glances over to where Namor is standing speaking with Namora who seems to be rather unimpressed with her cousin at the moment. Whatever he’s saying to her must either be boring or stupid.

Tameka laughs and nods somewhere over Shuri’s shoulder.” Well his wait is over.”

Wearing a blue off the shoulder gown with a cape, Y/N shines in the light like the sea sparkling in the sun. Her full figure is in view and she wears the same choker Shuri saw last night along with gold bracelets that match her mothers and a few rings here and there on her fingers. Her hair is down and adorned with gold and sea shells.

“Someone’s dressed to impress.”

Shuri would frown but she can’t stop the smile that forms on her lips at the sight of her sister, especially when she’s glowing like this.

Spotting them, Y/N makes her way over to her mother and Shuri with a shy smile.

“Hopefully I’m not too late.”

Shuri scoffs.” Oh please. When you look like that it’s understandable.”

“You can’t rush perfection.” Tameka purrs giggling as Y/N waves her off.” Mama please. You picked it out.”

“Exactly. There’s nothing wrong with showing off.” Tameka spins proudly showing off her own dress.

Shuri laughs as Y/N rolls her eyes. Her mother insisted she wear something to garner K’uk’ulkan’s attention even though she’s sure he’d be looking at her regardless. He seems quite content with doing so whenever he can. Like now. Y/N can feel his intense stare even from here. It sends a chill down her spine. She’s sure he’ll make his way over soon. He’ll want her to himself.

Shuri moves closer to her sister, grabbing her hand.

“I still can’t believe you’re entertaining this. I don’t see why we can’t just continue drafting treaties and making sure that both groups have what they need and want.”

Y/N squeezes her hand gently.” I don’t mind it too much. A mortal bride, let alone someone without powers, is…well it would be cruel. I’m built for the water, and he is quite handsome.”

Shuri pretends to gag as Tameka laughs.

“Well then I’m sure he won’t have any trouble pleasing you.”

Y/N’s jaw drops and Shuri sputters before laughing only to quickly cover her mouth when Y/N sends her a glare.

“Mother, can you please not be so blunt? One day someone is going to hear you and I will die of embarrassment.” She all but whines making Shuri giggle as Tameka simply smirks. There’s a mischievous gleam in her eye that makes her daughter suspicious but she quickly gets her answer when she feels a presence behind her.

“Well I hope that isn’t any time soon. I would hate to lose you in diosa.”

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N gasps softly as she sees the king of Talokan. He’s covered in vibranium just like the first time she saw him. To most his headdress would be intimidating, but to Y/N it makes her heart skip a beat. How fitting. The headdress resembles a feathered serpent and her people, who are referred to as mami wata by many, are often depicted with serpents. Some even have the tail of serpents. Her mother’s own companion, a black mamba named Nana, was currently at home.

“K’uk’ulkan…I-I’m not going anywhere any time soon.” Y/N cheeks grow hot as he chuckles. Motioning to her mother, she smiles softly.” My mother simply likes to tease me.”

Looking at Tameka, the god-king smiles chuckling as she holds her hand out. He promptly takes it and kisses it.

“I see where you get your beauty from, in eek’e’. A star birthed from the moon.”

Tameka smirks.” It’s nice to finally meet the one who has caused all this commotion. I see why my daughter has taken a liking to you. Though next time you decide to pay a visit, make sure that you have permission to enter our waters. You caused quite a panic, and I would hate to have to knock some sense into you.” Though her tone is playful, no one misses the warning in her words.

Y/N and Shuri glance at each other before looking between the two of them. Tameka is no stranger to politics. She’s well aware of how to greet other dignitaries and royals due to traveling with Queen Ramonda from time to time, but she’s also an entity. A goddess in her own right no matter what anyone says, so she has authority where even a ruler doesn’t. Everyone is very lucky she and the other spirits that inhabit the waters didn’t show exactly what they could do the day of the attack. It’s why Y/N has chosen not to address the rumors surrounding her birth until now. Such beings demand respect, reverence, and even fear. That’s not her.

The king of Talokan pauses. Y/N notices his jaw clench and is about to say something but Shuri beats her to the punch.

“Auntie? In recent meetings, it has been decided that Namor and the Talokanil are free to come and go as they please. It is much easier to deliver messages that way and no one has to worry about any accidents happening.”

Raising an eyebrow, Tameka hums.” If that is the case…Shuri let us give the two lovebirds some time to themselves.”

Grabbing Shuri’s hand, who gives Namor a nod clearly trying to stay serious, the woman saunters off in the direction of one of the many tables filled with food.

Y/N huffs and shakes her head.” I’m sorry about her. She’s…well she’s that. One minute the life of the party and the next as cold and calculating as a serpent.” She looks up at her new companion.” No offense.”

Humming to himself, the god-king shows no other signs that her mother’s words have annoyed him.

“It is alright. I suppose such words and thinly veiled threats are bound to be exchanged.”

Before she can stop herself, Y/N snorts.

“You don’t know my mother. That wasn’t a threat.”

Looking down at her with dark eyes, he tilts his head to the side.” I’m sure she’s harmless.” And as enchanting as he is, Y/N can’t help but smirk.

“You have no idea.”

———————————

A/N: Heyyyyyy ❤️

Tags: @lunamoonbby , @artaxerxesthegreat , @alexa-33 , @queenshikongo3 , @ant1r3al1ty , @lostpirateinwonderland , @nunya7394 , @louderfortheback , @danika1994 , @weepingwitchofthewest , @chaimantis , @jurneesjourney, @stars8melanin, @prettyvintageafternoon

#I forgot the tags again 🧍🏾‍♀️ #k’uk’ulkan x black reader #black!reader #namor x reader #wakanda forever fanfic #namor x black reader #unique writes

[bctoastyyy]

do you have more of that no one cares au

I had no idea that No One Cares AU would be so much of a hot take tbh kjshdfl I thought it wasn't very original. BUT THIS IS GOOD NEWS I've loved everyone takes that they added hehe. So um I went a bit off the rails with this response,,

Danny w/ the ghosts:

Sam: “Danny, the box ghost is back.”  D: “What’s he doing?” Sam: “Some lady by the flower store gave him all her recyclable cardboard. He’s building a fort. You wanna go get rid of him, or?” D: “What, no. He’ll get bored and go home, you know that.” Sam: “Why do you look upset, then?” D: “He didn’t invite us to his fort :( “  Sam: “We’re at school, though-” D: “IT’S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING, SAM.”

T: “Tell me more about this…internet web site.” Tucker: “YOU’VE ASKED THE RIGHT PERSON.” T: “I asked the ghost child, actually, BUT YOU SEEM MUCH MORE SOCIABLE.” D: “Oh, sure, he seems more sociable now, not when he kicks my ass at video games, but go off I guess.” T: “WHAT IS THIS ABOUT A VIDEO PLAYING GAMES I HEAR.” Tucker: “dude you thinking about what im thinking? Technus, buddy, we’re going to show you a fighting game, you’ll love it.” T: “A VIDEO THAT FIGHTS GAMES- THAT SOUNDS COOL”- punches danny in the face- “I’LL GO FIRST, WHERE IS VIDEO PART AT.” D: “Actually you gave me an idea. we play smash bros WHILE fighting.”  T: “THIS SOUNDS HIP AND POPPING LET’S DO THAT.”  Tucker: “I’ll keep score.”

E: “Haha you think I could brainwash all the teens with my sick ass tunes if I tried?”  D: “Oh, worm? Probably. But I don't think you need to brainwash anyone though, everyone already loves your music.” E: “Ain’t that right. Okay, dipstick, wanna see how far I can throw you with my new guitar chord instead?” D: “Yes.”

S: “Where are you, whelp? I’ll get my hands on that pelt of yours, mark my words.” D: “Mark? I thought you were Skulker.”  S: “You cannot hide from the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter!” D: “No, I can, you just don’t want me to. I get that, that’s cool. I gotta get back to class though, you want to pick this up later?” S: “Oh. I was looking forward to deadly hide and seek :(“  D: “You’ll get your shot big guy. Just don’t terrorize anyone until school’s out? Or do you want to get in the thermos for time out-” S: “No. Do you want to get in my net to see how far I can throw you?” D: “Yes. See if you can launch me right into my classroom and I’ll give you an extra kick to the face, deal?” S: “A true hunter knows patience and never backs down from a challenge.”  D: “I love how dramatic you are.“ 

School:

Mr. L: “Mr. Fenton, where are you going?” D: “Ghost.”- goes ghost in the middle of the classroom - Mr. L: “Which one?” D: “Eh, dunno.”

P: “Danny, you like the stars and stuff, right?” D: “I do like space, yes.” P: “Tell me about the signs- I’m trying to win an argument, Star says our signs aren’t compatible, but they totes are.”  D: “Um. Do it anyway.” P: “Isn’t it important though?” D: “Do it anyway.” P: “So true, bestie, thanks.”  D: “I just do stuff regardless of the consequences.” P: “So true bestie, thanks.”

V: “Cujo only listens to me when I’m wearing red, what does that mean? I thought…isn’t it bulls that don’t like red? He’s a dog…” D: “If he likes red, then wear red more often? I dunno I could ask Technus or uncle Vlad to make you a red ghost suit or something. Might respond better to…ghost red.” V: “Really?” D: “Makes sense to me.” V: “Hmm, fine, okay, but it needs to make me look cool.”  D: “Naturally.”

W: “Are you guys serious?! How can Fenton be a ghost? That doesn't make any sense! He's trying to brainwash you all into believing his elaborate prank, can't you see that?! Am I the only sane one here!" Anyone at casper high tbh: "Wes, I don't care."

Dash: “FENTON!” D: “I’m kinda busy right now, Dash,” - shoves observant into the floor - “these guys keep trying to get me to go to my ancient time dad’s deathday party. Which is a joke because I don’t think that guy has ever been alive, and like, Frostbite already told me they’re just trying to trick me into visiting so they don’t have to babysit Clockwork. I already visit like, every other week, how much more can they want from me, jeez.” - while he’s talking he uses his hand to freeze the observant’s head(? eye?) before shoving him back into the floor - “Sorry, what did you need?” Dash: “I was just gonna see if you wanted to come to football practice after school today. We’re going to the nasty burger after.” D: “Nasty burger you say? Deal. But I’m not into football, that’s more uncle Vlad’s thing, and besides, when he makes me play it with him he cheats every time >:( “ Kwan: “How about we just see how far you can throw a football? I bet it's like farther than like, five football fields!”  D: “It’s more than five but okay.”

MISC

J: “Uncle Vlad says you burned the monopoly board?” D: “He’s a businessman, Jazz, he doesn’t deserve to play monopoly.” J: “But dad loves monopoly :(“  D: “Only because Vlad does. Mom helped me burn it.” J: “She does hate monopoly.”

D: “No.” Vlad: “What do you mean, no? It’s only America’s favorite passtime!” D: “I don’t want to watch the Green Bay Packers.” Vlad: “No ghost training for one month.” D: “Where’s the remote, its football time.” 

Elle: “Danny what do I do, he keeps wanting me to watch football with him.” D: “Tell him that he shouldn’t have kept the gene that hates football when he sampled me.”  Elle: “Y’know, that is kinda his fault now that I’m thinking about it.” D: “So true, lil sis, so true.” 

F: “Great One! I am so glad you’ve visited!” D: “Yeah :) ! Sorry though, I just gotta ask, why do you call me Great One, again?” F: “You’re great, that’s why! Do you not think that you are great enough to be called that? :(“  D: “Oh, no, I just thought it was because I told Pariah to chill the heck out and he went back to bed.”  F: “That helped. You stopped the ‘hissyfit’ of the millennia.”  D: “That’s what the observants kept telling everyone until I stepped in, isn’t it.” F: “Indeed. I do not like the observants :( so I did not listen. No one did. That is another reason why you are so great.“ 

#no one cares au #sorry i kinda went off #danny phantom #dp au #toastyyy shouts #hehe

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Part 6

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,800 Warnings: Angst, fluff, and some supernatural shenanigans.

Part 6: Trust Building

After you showered and dressed in a clean shirt and yoga pants, you felt refreshed but still somewhat anxious. You don’t have anything to be nervous about, you tried to remind yourself.

You finally met him. His name is Dean. He seems…nice.

A soft smile grew on your face when you thought of how he’d looked over your injuries in concern. How he’d seemed just as nervous as you, but was familiar in his teasing and gentle when he’d helped you up the stairs.

He seemed to be a decent guy. But so had Danny Schmitt.

That thought made you shudder. Those horrific memories of last night tried to surface, but you stubbornly shoved them down by covering your eyes with your hands and letting out a few deep breaths.

When you’d calmed down, you released your trembling hands. That’s it, you decided. You were going downstairs. You were going to go crazy if you stayed up here in this room.

…Plus, you were getting hungry.

Things were probably going to get awkward fast, but you were up for it. You didn’t want to be rude to your uncle, and you wanted to get know Dean and his brother Sam.

So you carefully descended the stairs, trying not to freeze in place when all three men paused in their conversation to look at you. You gave a little wave.

“How’re you feelin’?” Bobby asked.

“I’m okay.” You joined Sam and Dean on the couch once they made room for you. Bobby sat in a rickety chair across from them, with a coffee table full of old, open books in between. What kind of book club were these guys having?

You shared a small smile with Dean, who seemed to take a brief moment to look you over. You noticed his gaze lingered on your yoga pants. But smoothly his eyes returned to your face. He inhaled and looked curious.

“What’s that, apples?” he asked. You blinked in confusion, until you realized what he meant: your body wash. To be fair, it did have a strong smell.

“Oh, apple spice.” You nodded. “Good guess!”

Dean grinned a little. “It’s nice.”

Sitting on his other side, Sam rested an elbow on the couch’s arm. He hid a smile behind his hand, while Bobby just rolled his eyes.

“All right, well dinner’s on the way,” your uncle said. “Hope you like Chinese.”

You were just about to reply affirmatively when your phone buzzed on the coffee table. With a quick glance, you saw who it was and frowned. Dad.

“That’s been going off non-stop for the past ten minutes,” Dean said.

“Yeah,” you sighed, and went to pick up the phone. “Hi, Dad.”

You felt guilty about taking off from Jody’s house without telling anyone, but in fairness, you’d left her a note. Your dad was stern and quick to reproach you.

“You can’t just take off like that. You had me looking over the whole damn town for you!” said Jack.

Your lips pressed together. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going, but now you know where I am. I’m safe.”

Jack started to interject, but you cut in before he could start giving you orders.

“Tell Jody I’m sorry, but I’m comfortable here,” you said, glancing up at Bobby, and then at Sam and Dean.

“…Fine. The house should be back to normal in a couple of days. If you leave Bobby’s house for any reason, you call me,” Jack said.

Like you were a child.

“Fine,” you snapped and hung up the phone. Then you looked up at the men, who all looked away as if they hadn’t been listening.

“Sorry,” you added. “My dad’s a bit…overprotective.”

“I mean…can you really blame him right now?” Dean asked. “I get it, you ditched your babysitter. But not for nothing, I’d probably react the same way.”

His face was more serious, devoid of the flirtatious teasing from before. Your hackles started to rise as he took your dad’s side…until you realized that he meant well. Through the connection that bonded your soul with his, what you felt most was his concern for you. 

And, he might actually have a point.

You just weren’t willing to acknowledge that just yet.

You tried to get to know Sam more too. You learned that he’d gone to college at Stanford for pre-law, and that he’d planned to be a lawyer. When you asked why he didn’t go for it, he and Dean got quiet.

That’s when the takeout finally came. You sensed it was a sensitive topic, so you didn’t push it.

The four of you ate while Sam and Dean traded off telling childhood stories and motel room antics, most of which made you laugh.

But you became sad when you realized what Dean had told you once was true: he and Sam had been raised on the open road. They hadn’t truly had a home since Dean was five years old, and Sam had been just an infant, after their mother died.

“The house burned down,” Dean explained, but you had a feeling there was more to the story. You sensed it in his guarded emotions—both in his body language and through your bond.

“Nice ring,” he remarked, noting the flash of silver on your right hand. You gave him a closer look and he took the opportunity to take your hand. You tried (and failed) not to blush.

“My mom’s,” you said, your eyes lowering. “She…died when I was around fourteen.”

Dean sighed and released your hand. “I’m sorry.”

You knew he understood how you felt. He’d lost his mom too.

“What about your dad?” you asked.

Sam and Dean shared a brief glance before Dean replied. “He’s still around. He started the family business, so he travels a lot too.”

“I see.” You were very curious to meet their dad. If he was anything like Dean, then that man was sure to be interesting.

After a while more of eating and talking, Bobby wished you goodnight and went up to his room. Sam returned to the living room to set up his sleeping spot on the recliner, leaving you and Dean to clear the dining table and wash the dishes together.

“So your dad’s a cop, huh?” Dean asked.

You nodded. “Yep. Hence the overprotective bit.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell him about our…” Here Dean raised his brows. “Situation?”

You smiled in amusement. “Honestly, yeah. It just…didn’t feel like the right time to tell him about us. When you meet him, you’ll understand.”

“I get it. My dad’s not always a picnic either, but he’s a good man,” Dean said. “Your dad seems to be too.”

“Except he doesn’t want me here,” you said. “He’s got this…thing with my uncle. I can’t figure it out.”

Dean seemed to remember something. “Yeah, Bobby was sayin’ something like that. They had a falling out a while back?”

“I think it started when my aunt died,” you admitted. You were seven, and Aunt Karen had been your dad’s younger sister. You didn’t remember her that well, but you had a warm memory of her making pies for every season: pumpkin and apple for fall, blueberry for winter, strawberry and rhubarb for spring, and peach for summer.

“I’ve asked Bobby about it, but he’s not really the sharing type,” you said.

“Yeah, fair enough,” Dean said. It made you look over at him with some curiosity.

Dean was becoming something of an enigma to you. In some ways, he could be incredibly straightforward and kind in how he looked after you and asked about your life. But any time you asked about his family, about his past, about his job, he would pull back from you.

It made you nervous. What the hell is he hiding?

But it also made you determined to find out more. Now that you’d found him, you weren’t going to let him go so easily.

After the table was cleared and the dishes were done, you realized just how tired you were. Even your head was starting to ache.

Dean might’ve heard your thoughts (you had to get better at controlling that), because he looked you over in an assessing way.

“Hey, you should probably get some sleep,” he said. “It’s been a long day, sweetheart.”

Even that small nickname made you blush again. Dean noticed, smiling. You purposefully looked away and called out to his brother.

“Goodnight, Sam.”

He looked up from the book he was reading and smiled at you. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”

You returned his smile before returning your gaze to Dean. He crossed his arms expectantly, a grin playing at his lips. “My turn?”

You uttered a laugh. Gaining some courage, you leaned up on your toes, rested a hand on his shoulder, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

Sweet dreams, you added mentally, then you turned to climb up the stairs.

See you tomorrow, he replied. It made you pause on the stairs and turn back to him with a soft smile.

Then, Dean watched you go up the rest of the way to make sure you were all right. He did his best to clamp down on his mixed emotions, so you wouldn’t sense them. When he turned around, he found Sam wearing a knowing grin.

“What?” Dean asked.

“I just never thought I’d see you like this.”

Dean rolled his eyes and sat on the other end of the couch. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, then rubbed at his face with both hands. Sam sat down next to him and dropped a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m glad, Dean. You deserve this,” he said.

Do I? Dean thought. “You know we’ve got a job to do.”

“…Yeah,” Sam said with a sigh. He was conflicted too. He wanted to give his brother the time and space to enjoy this, to spend time with you, but they still had to find their dad—and the Yellow-Eyed demon that killed Jess, and their mom.

Still, this was important.

“Why don’t you go up and talk to her?” he suggested, nodding up the stairs.

Dean frowned. “She’s going to bed.”

“Even if it’s five minutes,” Sam said. “Don’t waste any more time, Dean. Do something.”

So Dean went up to your room, and he knocked.

You opened the door a few moments later, but you hadn’t changed clothes yet. Sensing more than hearing his anxious thoughts had kept you puttering around the room, straightening things up, brushing your hair, trying to find something to wear for bed. You just didn’t know how to reach out and comfort him, or even if you should.

But you smiled when you saw him.

“Can I help you, sir?” you teased.

“Just for a minute,” he said, once you let him into the room. “You can kick me out whenever.”

You beckoned him to sit with you on the edge of your bed. You and Dean sat in silence for a moment, both of you trying to think of something to say.

“This is hard, isn’t it?” you said. Dean let out a breathy chuckle, his shoulders sagging a bit in relief. He looked over at you.

“Somehow, thought it’d be easier,” he said.

“Okay, let’s just get this out of the way. We’re basically strangers. Let’s stop focusing on the cosmic bond part of it all, and just try to get to know each other,” you suggested. 

Dean saw the logic there.

“Sounds good to me,” he said. He reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing the side of your face.

A blush dusted your cheeks. “You like doing that.”

“You don’t seem to mind.”

“Not really, no,” you admitted with a smile. Dean returned it, before his expression became more serious again.

“Hey, can you answer something honest for me real quick?” he asked.

“Okay.” Though you wondered where this was going.

“Are you okay?”

You folded your hands in your lap and stared down. “Yeah. I feel fine, Dean. Really.”

“Not what I meant,” he said. You felt his concern through your bond, encouraging you to look up at him.

“I get it if you don’t, but if you need to talk about what happened last night…” He let the thought hang off, giving you the space to decline if you wanted to, or if you weren’t ready. You sensed that he was willing to listen to you, and actually, that he genuinely wanted to know.

Well, that you could believe. He seemed to be the protective type.

You sighed; as much as you didn’t want to think about what happened, flashes of those memories were already resurfacing behind your eyes.

“It happened so fast,” you began. People always said that in the movies, but it was true.

“I got home late. I was…talking with you. As soon as I set my things down in the living room, he grabbed me from behind, dragged me into the kitchen for some reason…” You took a breath. “When I had enough wits about me to start fighting back, that’s when he used my head for basketball practice on the counter.”

Dean was quiet while you spoke. He was trying to keep his darker thoughts from spilling into his connection with you, but that was a feat in itself.

It was a good thing for him that Danny Schmitt was already dead.

“I saw the kitchen knives, but before I knew it I was on the ground,” you continued, though it was difficult to steep yourself in those wild, thrashing moments. Being pinned down, not being able to call for help or reach anything that could help you.

Your hand went to the bruises on your throat. “I couldn’t breathe…then I’m…not sure what happened. Maybe I got some adrenaline-fueled, Hulk Hogan-type strength, because the next thing I knew, I was looking down at Danny’s body. And the kn-knife, somehow I…”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you started to lose your grip, but Dean reached for your hand, squeezing yours. That, and sensing his supportive presence in your mind, gave you something solid to ground you as you breathed through it.

As was your habit, you twirled your mom’s ring around your finger.

“Danny?” Dean asked.

“Y-Yeah. We went to high school together,” you explained. “He was an idiot then. He got his fingers caught in the automatic stapler. How do you go from that to psycho-killer spree?”

Dean gave you an amused look, but he gave you an honest answer.

“Some people are born bad. Some people do bad things once in a while, and regret it,” he said. “Some people got evil shit on their mind, but don’t got the confidence to actually pull the trigger. Until they do.”

You let out a deep breath as you nodded.

“I just…Dean, I don’t remember grabbing the knife,” you confessed. “But it makes me wonder…what the hell else am I capable of?”

Dean could understand that, better than most. He let you lean into him and drew you close as you finally allowed yourself to let go. You felt bad for dampening his shirt with your tears, but you relished in his comfort and the safety of his arms.

Until both of you shivered. It felt like the room had dropped ten degrees all of a sudden.

Dean got an awfully familiar, suspicious feeling.

“Aw, shit,” he said.

“What?” you asked nervously. Your bedside lamp flickered, and somehow a draft kicked up into the room.

Dean got you to stand up by the elbows and grabbed your hand, heading for the door. It swung closed in your faces, making you gasp.

“Shit,” he repeated.

Your looked up at him in fear. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Whatever happens, just stay close to me.” Dean’s voice was firm, authoritative. It was fair to say you clung to his arm. Maybe that made you the quintessential damsel in distress, but to be fair, you were definitely in distress right about now. You didn’t have a clue what was happening, but Dean seemed to.

Then a strong gust of wind pulled him away from you and threw him into the large wooden dresser across the room. You watched in alarm, but you eventually made yourself move to go and help him.

That’s when a strange mirage glitched and appeared in front of you, startling you. It was a woman, maybe in her late-thirties. She looked familiar, but before you could focus on her face, Dean’s fist swiped through the mirage and made it disappear.

You looked up at him in shock. He was a bit banged up with a couple of scratches on his arm, but he held what looked like the iron handle from one of the dresser drawers he’d smashed into. You touched his arm, and your mind blazed with questions that you were finally able to express.

“Are you okay? What the hell was that? What—”

“All right, for right now just follow my lead, okay?” he said. He grabbed your hand and tried opening the door. It was locked. Damn it.

Sam called from the other side.

“Hey, you guys okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’ve got us a ghost,” said Dean.

“What?” you exclaimed. As in Casper?

Dean sighed. “I’ll explain later. Move away from the door, Sammy.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

In one powerful move, Dean kicked through the door and broke the lock. You and Dean escaped the room, but your eyes widened as you pointed behind Sam. “Watch out!”

The woman was there again. Now you could see that she wore a white blouse with small flowers on them, and a long, dark skirt that seemed to glide across the floor. You realized that you recognized the shade of her hair, the shape of her face and features—many of them were similar to your own.

You felt like the air had fled from your lungs, all while your heart constricted painfully. Dean’s head swiveled toward you; he’d picked up on the shift in your emotions through your connection.

“Mom?” you uttered.

A gun shot rang out, making the vision of your mother scream angrily, and then disappear. Behind her was Bobby with a shotgun full of rock salt.

“All right, let’s get downstairs,” he said.

The four of you ran down quick to the ground floor. The lights continued to flicker as you went, and a draft followed you through the living room where the fireplace crackled with life. You watched as Sam went and got cannisters of salt from the kitchen and started drawing a large circle of salt around you all. Meanwhile, Dean grabbed the iron poker from the fireplace.

“Okay, will someone please explain what the fuck is going on already?” you asked. “Why am I seeing my mom?”

And why is she trying to kill us?

Sam and Dean shared a look before the latter sighed and met your wide-eyed stare.

“Like I said, she’s a ghost. Yeah, they’re real. Salt keeps them away, iron fends them off,” he explained. “Temporary fixes though. The only way to get rid of a ghost is to burn its old body’s bones.”

That was a lot of crazy information to absorb in all of thirty seconds. Dean laid his hands on your shoulders to get your attention, and to ground you.

“Where is she buried?” he asked.

“The cemetery,” you said tremulously. “Don’t say you’re gonna dig up my mom, Dean.”

His face twisted in apology. “That’s kinda where this is going, yeah.”

You were a tad bit horrified.

“But wait, you can’t,” you realized. “They buried her ashes.”

Sam, Dean, and Bobby all shared a similar frown. Damn it.

The ghost of your mother, Christine, reappeared just a few feet away and startled a scream out of you. The four of you stood within the salt circle, but that didn’t stop her. Her dark eyes were focused on the men as she created a gust of wind to blow the salt circle away.

Bobby shot off a salt round from his gun and made her disappear for a few seconds. But she was getting tenacious. She reappeared moments later to continue whittling at the salt line.

“Why is she coming after us?” you exclaimed.

“Some spirits don’t pass onto greener pastures if they feel like they’ve got too much to leave behind,” Bobby explained. “After a while, they start to lose their grip on…well, reality.”

“They turn vengeful,” Sam supplied. “Poltergeists, hauntings—”

“But why would she go after me?” you asked. You buried your hands in your hair and closed your eyes. Maybe you could block all of this out and pretend it wasn’t happening. “This can’t be real!”

“Hey,” Dean said. He grabbed your arms just tight enough to break you out of your spiral. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “This is real. It’s happening. Somehow your mom’s ghost is tethered to something else, because I think she followed you here.”

“Followed me?”

“From your house,” Dean said. He was leading you somewhere—with his tone and his eyes.

You gasped at as hit you.

The impossible knife stabbing of Danny Schmitt.

You hadn’t been anywhere near the kitchen knives. You’d been pinned down while slowly choking to death. It hadn’t been adrenaline. There really was no way you could’ve reached them.

“She…she killed Danny.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “Trust me, I know, because this is my job.”

“This is what you do for a living?” You were damn near hysterics.

He offered you a helpless grin. “And it don’t even come with health insurance.”

“He’s right, there’s something else keeping her here,” Bobby said. He looked at you. “Do you have anything of hers?”

“No, I—” You’d started toying with your ring before it dawned on you with a gasp. Dean looked down at your hand and came to the same conclusion.

“It’s the ring,” he said. “We need to burn it n—”

Dean couldn’t finish his thought, because Christine reappeared behind him and threw him several feet away. The iron poker in his hand clattered away from him. She turned to Sam and Bobby next.

Before either one could shoot off a salt round, Christine raised a hand, commanding a desk to shove them against a large bookcase. They had to shield their heads as books fell off the shelves and thudded to the ground.

Christine stopped when she turned to you. Instead of attacking, she raised her hand out to you. Your eyes widened.

“Mom?”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t look at you with the same anger and menace as she had to the men.

“She’s not after you,” Sam said, with a tilt of his head. “She’s trying to protect you.”

He was still stuck with Bobby, while Dean was also pinned against the wall by the force of Christine’s will. He had enough autonomy to raise his head and meet your eyes with urgency.

“Toss the ring in the fireplace,” he told you. “Do it now!”

Your limbs were frozen in place. It was almost like being attacked by Danny; you could see the knives, but you couldn’t make yourself grab one. This time, you didn’t want to.

“I can’t!” You shook your head adamantly.

“I get it,” Dean said. He was struggling to break free of the ghost’s hold, gritting his teeth. “But you need to put your mom to rest. It’s the ring or your life. Throw that thing into Mount Doom!”

You looked up at Christine, and at times you could see through her spirit-like body. She wasn’t really there, nor was she supposed to be here.

Right now you were poor old Mrs. Jenkins, clutching your pearls.

So you ran to the fireplace. But the moment you fell to your knees there, a strong gust of wind blew out the flames. You gasped and turned to see that your mother was there, and she was now angry with you for trying to destroy her.

Frantically you searched for something to keep her away. What you found was Dean’s iron poker.

“That’s it, stick it right through her!” Dean guided you. Inside he was desperate to help you, but he instinctively buried it under the practiced focus of a hunter.

Your hands closed around the iron and you swung it like a baseball bat, making Christine’s spirit dissolve. Sam then called your name and showed you a lighter in his hand. He threw it towards you, but it bounced through your hands and scattered across the floor.

“For God’s sake,” you muttered frantically. You all but dove onto your hands and knees to scramble after the lighter.

“Watch out!” Dean shouted.

With a gasp, you twisted to face Christine again. This time, she commanded a chef’s knife from the kitchen.

“Mom!” you tried. While she heard you, she didn’t acknowledge what she was doing. Her face was twisted with a truly evil expression—one that you’d never seen on your mother when she lived.

The knife turned in mid-air. Then it spiraled toward you.

You instinctively covered your face with your arms and shouted. “Stop, Mom. Please!”

The room was deadly quiet.

Slowly, you realized you were still alive, if breathing heavily. You opened your eyes and lowered your arms a bit. The knife hadn’t pierced you, but it was still hovering in front your face. You remained very still when you looked up at Christine.

Her face revealed her shock. The evil dregs of death had melted away, revealing your mother as she was. As she had been in your fourteen-year-old memory.

Her expression softened into regret and sadness. The knife fell away from you and clattered to the ground. You let out a relieved breath and laid a hand over your wild beating heart.

Then it was Sam, Dean, and Bobby’s turn to feel relieved. Christine released them from her hold, and Sam and Bobby pushed the desk away from them while Dean rolled the kinks out of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” said Christine. Her voice was familiar, and also sounded overlaid with many whispered voices. Tears pooled in your eyes, but your hand closed over the lighter you found at your side.

You toyed with your ring and glanced at Dean. He gave you an encouraging nod.

“Do it, honey,” your mom said.

Shakily, you got to your feet and went back over to the fireplace. You used the lighter to reignite the wood, but once you took the ring off your finger, you hesitated.

A hand rested on your shoulder, and your tearful eyes met Dean’s sympathetic ones.

It’s okay. You can do this, he told you through the soul bond.

With a deep, shuddering breath, you nodded and let go of your mother’s wedding ring. It took a while, but eventually the silver started to melt.

Your mom’s spirit dissipated with a smile on her face.

The aftermath of that night was difficult, to say the least. The guest bedroom you were supposed to sleep in had a broken door, but the guys had helped you get it back on its hinges, more or less. You all agreed to leave cleaning up the house for tomorrow, as there were only a few hours left in the night anyway.

The way you felt…well, there weren’t really words for that. You laid in bed in a worn-out, oversized shirt you found in the damaged dresser. Your body was exhausted in every way. Your mind, however, was wide awake.

So was Dean’s. He stared up at the wall from his place on the couch, downstairs. Through the bond, he could feel the many shifts in your fraught emotions. It was keeping him awake too, mostly out of concern.

He tried to take hold of that thread of energy and send you something reassuring, even if it was just his presence and not his words. Because what could he say, anyway?

He sensed that you accepted the connection. He felt your gratefulness, despite the rest of it.

Do you want to come up here? you asked.

It surprised Dean, but his reaction was…conflicted. After tonight, part of him wanted to keep some distance between you and himself. His job attracted even more supernatural batshit insanity than a vengeful spirit. He didn’t want you to get caught up in that…

But a larger part of Dean couldn’t deny you, either.

I’ll be right there, he said.

Without waking up Sam on the recliner, Dean got off the couch and climbed up the stairs towards your room.

AN: Congrats to @spnexploration for figuring out the impossible stabbing of Danny Schmitt! You guessed it right on your first try. But I hope the clues I left were subtle enough lol.

Now that the reader knows about the supernatural, let's see what she and Dean get up to upstairs...

To keep reading: PART 7

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A huge thank you to everyone commenting and reblogging and overall engaging with this story! I didn't think it would end up being this long lol. But there's more to come soon!

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[firstelevens]

I must ask about WEE BABIES! do you see sambucky having kids in your au? if yes, soon after they're married or wayyy into the future? hypothetically what would happen if *gasp* their child doesn't have a sweet tooth? 😱

The answer to this question would have been a clear no a few months ago but now I think it’s fifty-fifty. If they did have a kid, it would probably be a couple years into their marriage, and if that kid did not have a sweet tooth, I think it would go a little something like this:

“This is your fault, you know.”

“My fault?” 

“One hundred percent,” says Bucky, lifting their son into his lap and narrowly avoiding dragging his knuckles through ketchup. He’s opting to ignore the way that Riley dramatically flopped onto the table after pushing away his plate, a move that definitely came straight out of the Barnes playbook.

“You’re blaming me for the fact that he doesn’t like cake,” Sam says, as he brings their plates over, already dished out. The era of serving dishes on the table ended right around when Riley figured out how to get a grip on serving spoons and they haven’t gone back yet.

“He knows that—thanks, sweetheart—he knows that Daddy can’t carry him if Daddy’s carrying cake, and now he resents an entire genre of food.”

Sam snorts. “Yeah, it’s that and not the fact that he just doesn’t like sweet things.”

“He did act like we tried to poison him that time we fed him ice cream,” muses Bucky. “Doesn’t explain why he took one look at the chicken nuggets and decided that they were cake, too.”

Riley, not one to let his opinions go unvoiced, shifts his face slightly away from where it’s tucked into Bucky’s chest and cries out, “No cake!”

“No cake,” repeat Sam and Bucky, practiced enough to be in sync now.

“I think it’s the color,” says Sam, picking up one of the nuggets to examine it. “And I guess they’re shaped kind of like the gingerbread he tried and hated at Sarah’s.”

“I can’t believe cookies don’t get a pass, either,” says Bucky. “What are we supposed to bribe him with when he gets older?”

“Cucumbers,” says Sam. “And cherry tomatoes, when we’re desperate.”

“This kid’s being raised by two semi-professional bakers and he’s got the same diet as AJ’s pet turtle.”

Sam laughs out loud, and Riley immediately turns to look at him like he doesn’t want to miss it. Bucky can’t blame him, even if it does mean having to scramble to hold Riley secure in his lap as he wriggles around.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to hold him?” asks Sam. “How are you gonna eat?”

“I’ll be fine,” says Bucky. “One of us skipped lunch today, and it wasn’t me.”

Sam’s eyes narrow. “How’d you know that?”

“Cass ratted you out,” Bucky says. “How does a man spend ten hours a day surrounded by food and somehow still miss a meal?”

“J and I shot an extra video today so I could take tomorrow off,” says Sam, and points with his fork towards Bucky’s plate without interrupting himself. “I got distracted.”

Bucky takes the hint and looks down to see what put that little grin on Sam’s face: Riley’s chubby hand reaching out to grab one of the vareniki on Bucky’s plate. They both watch as he examines it, then grin wider as he seems to deem it far enough from cake and takes a bite.

It’s important that they not hover, so Bucky makes himself continue the conversation even though he’d much rather watch Riley copy the way Sam is eating.

“I swear, I’m gonna start setting a reminder on your phone like old people have for their pills.”

“Yeah, ‘cause what I need in a kitchen with six ovens and a dozen batches of proving dough at any given minute is more timers.”

“Then prepare for Cass to keep– wait, zaychik, that’s not a normal cucumber; I don’t think you’ll…”

Bucky trails off as Riley takes a bite of a cornichon, braced for his horrified reaction to the sourness. Instead, all they get is a thoughtful hum before he takes a second bite.

“What the hell?” mouths Sam, and all Bucky can do is shrug.

“Try the beets,” he mouths back at Sam, and watches as Sam spears a vinegar-dressed beet with his fork. A second later, Riley picks one up, too. This time, sweet doesn’t seem to be an issue, and he immediately goes for another one before turning back to the dumplings.

At some point, Sam’s phone came out of his pocket, and now he’s got it pointed at Bucky, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“What have we learned today, Buck?”

“That apparently you could’ve been wielding your influence way more often at the dinner table?”

“Bucky.”

“We’ve learned that sometimes picky eaters aren’t picky eaters,” he says, with a laugh. “Sometimes they’re just Russian.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Hey, just 'cause I'm teaching him about his family, doesn't mean you're off the hook for the cake thing.”

“Papa, no cake!”

“No cake, buddy,” Bucky intones solemnly, and kisses the side of Riley’s head. "Guess we'll just do a giant bowl of beets for the third birthday then, huh?"

(This time, when Sam throws his head back and laughs, both Riley and Bucky stop what they're doing to admire him.)

#thank you jules!!! #i guess the short answer to your question is 'panic a little bit and then feed him pickles' #local woman writes AU of own AU; dozens of circa 2012 tumblr denizens emerge to yell 'AU-ception!' #sambucky #the gbbo au #my fic #zainab does ask meme things #hot2go #next one's gonna be shorter I SWEAR

[profoundbondfanfic]

Do you have any fics that a very gender? Very confronts toxic masculinity in a moving way? Bonus points for 🏳️‍⚧️

I have to say it was a bit of a challenge to decode this ask so we've decided to do something general and hopefully some of these are what you were asking for. Here are some recs with fics that feature trans!characters in a meaningful way or focus on gender roles.

Fem in a Black Leather Jacket by bleuzombie [Mature, 5k words] #trans!dean

Dean has done the work to be comfortable with who himself but some reassurance from his boyfriend Castiel goes a long way as they head to a concert. Dean never dreamed he would be so lucky to find someone who could love him for all of him, panties and all.

love in the time of quarantine by sharkfish [Explicit, 6k words] #trans!castiel

Dean says, “We should have sex.” Cas chokes and looks up at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.” “We should have sex,” Dean repeats, carefully enunciating each word. Cas keeps staring at him blankly. “It’s fun and you’re hot. Perfect quarantivity.”

Made Manifest by schmerzerling [Mature, 6k words] #trans!dean

Wherein Castiel defied God for Dean before Dean even knew his name.

Mira Mira by vipjuly [Teen, 22k words] #gender fluidity

Castiel is forced to retire from being the world's most prolific and successful hired gun. He gets dropped off at Winchester B&B with a vague notion to 'find himself', but he's having a hard time understanding first of all: what that means, and secondly: how to even do that. The proprietor of Winchester B&B, Dean, a retired ex Fed, seems to have some ideas of his own.

Novaks, Rebooted by violue [Explicit, 57k words] #trans!claire

A single father, his trans daughter, a whole new life in The Golden State.

Sometimes You Have to Lose to Win by zeppazariel [Explicit, 55k words] #trans!dean

The thing is, Dean is okay with being bisexual. He’s come to terms with it, ya know? He’s got eyes, and he can see that men are hot sometimes; whatever, not a big deal. He’s perfectly fine with it. In theory. Not so much in practice. Dudes are a no-no, outside of looking. He’s not budging on this one, so it’s with confidence that he announces, “There ain’t a guy in the world who’s going to change my mind, Sam.” “You’re tempting the universe to make fun of you again,” Sam sing-songs. “The universe doesn’t have shit to do with this,” Dean argues. Sam hums. “Whatever you say, man.” But, as it turns out, the universe has a lot to do with this, and it never really misses a chance to mock him, drag him down, kick him while he’s curled into a fetal position, then take him out back and shoot him while laughing cruelly at his misery. Meeting Cas is precisely what that feels like.

BONUS: a/b/o fics that focus on gender roles

Aromatic Adjectives Need Not Apply by JessJesstheBest [Teen, 4k words]

Castiel was an Alpha, despite what everyone always guessed upon meeting him. He was tall, and he had the stern and imposing profile, but, to most people, those Alpha traits were where it ended. He had a lithe, runner’s frame, with trim waist and thick thighs. “Child-bearing hips” he’d been told. Though, obviously, no children would be born of him. This scuffling man, though. He was... round. Potentially child-bearing. And Castiel was sure his true mate wasn’t either of the other two men. Or Castiel is an Alpha that doesn't believe in true mates but sniffs one out anyway.

Butch by tiamatv [Explicit, 54k words]

When the flower shop owner sweeps his fingers through his hair, he nearly knocks the flowers tucked behind his left ear off; he spends a fussy moment readjusting them with both hands. “I don’t need to be rescued. Especially not by a stranger.” Sheesh. Touchy. But since Dean would have flashed fangs if anyone had thought he couldn’t take care of his own damned self, he can’t be throwing any stones. He shrugs—big and exaggerated, both hands up. "Not sayin’ you did. Look, not your fault that God put alpha brains at the base of their dicks." The lowered blue eyes snap back to his. Flower Boy inhales with his lips parted, all pretense at not sniffing Dean out gone, and his eyes go wider. Dean might not dress or act or look like any kind of sweet little omega, but he knows just what he smells like: really fucking inviting.

Oddly Shaped Empty by jemariel [Explicit, 65k words]

Dean grew up thinking -- knowing -- he'd be an alpha. Until he failed to present. As a beta, he has no mating cycle, no noticeable pheromones, none of the physical markers that are so important in a world of alphas and omegas. He's out of place. How is he supposed to navigate his relationships and find love when he doesn't fit into the neatly-defined boxes he's used to? By the time he meets his new roommate, Castiel, he's more or less given up on finding a mate. He wears his secondary gender like a chip on his shoulder. But you never know what the future holds, who will come into your life, and how they might change it forever..... Queer themes, finding identity, reconciling the past, and a whole lot of smut.

#asks #trans!dean #trans!castiel #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

[fanfic-corner]

Tony Stark Has a Heart Fic Recs pt 2

Hello everyone!! I still have plenty of fics with this tag left in my bookmarks, so we're back for a part 2! I hope you enjoy reading them <3

You can find part one here.

xvii. drugged by tempestaurora (2.3k)

“Well,” the doctor said, “it seems you two can only tell the truth. I’ll call the team in to start working on a fix, but I do recommend you don’t leave the tower in case you say something you usually wouldn’t.”

“I’ll be fine,” Peter said.

The doctor raised an eyebrow but didn’t look at him. “Peter, are you Spiderman?”

“Yes.” Peter blinked. “I see your point.”

Peter Parker's Incorrect Quotes Page by EmilyWeaslette (2.5k)

Peter opens an 'incorrect quotes' account for the Avengers on Twitter, without telling them. When the team discovers the account, and Peter is too embarassed to come forward as it's creator, panic and hilarity ensue as the team try to figure out how private conversations are being eavesdropped on. Peter's just trying to avoid being caught.

Besides.

It was all Shuri's idea.

Candy from Strangers by peter_parkr (2.8k)

Peter heard footsteps approaching the bathroom. Tony pushed the door open and hesitantly poked his head in.

"Oh, shit." His eyes were met with the sight of Peter, whiter than a ghost, crumpled on the floor in fetal position. Peter tried to smile up at Tony, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Hey, ms'r strk. Welcome to my h'me." Peter flopped his arm over on the floor in greeting. Tony sighed... this was going to be a long night.

Where my heart lies by Maicaly (3.5k)

Peter Stark is taken from his school's parking lot, and 46 hours later, Tony receives a message with a location. Steve, Rhodey and Sam follow him to an abandoned building with a unpleasant surprise inside - that will put Tony's nerves at test.

Repeat After Me by battybatzgirl (3.8k)

Tony’s face hardens as he says, “What kid.”

“I don’t know, some twelve year old—”

Below him, the kid coughs out, “Fifteen.”

“—Fifteen year old—”

Tony scrubs a hand across his face. “Don’t tell me he’s wearing a dorky shirt with a chemistry pun on it.”

Rhodey frowns. That was oddly specific. Glancing down, he looks at what little he can see of the kid’s shirt—which isn't much since there’s so much blood now, but what could be once called a cartoon joke is printed on it. “Um, yeah?”

“Son of a bitch.”

Love, hate on by madasthesea (3.9k)

She’d planned for this moment for two years, seven months, and eighteen days: As she’d stood above her daughter’s freshly dug grave, she’d decided that Tony Stark would die by her hand. And now was her moment.

She had only intended to grab Stark, tell him what he’d done that merited the punishment she was going to give, and kill him fast before anyone started looking. But here was this kid, an act of providence.

She didn’t have to tell Stark now, she could show him. She could make him suffer like she’d suffered, make him pay for his crimes. An eye for an eye, a child for a child.

kidnapping by killerqueenwrites (4.6k)

Steve wakes up cuffed to a chair, which is kind of annoying considering he has a meeting today. 

He’s just coming to the conclusion that he really might be in trouble when he notices the kid across from him.

or Steve and Peter get some bonding time, and Tony is freaking out.

Um, I'm Invoking Parental Rights by teaandtumblr (5.8k)

5 times Peter calls Tony "dad" to bail him out, and the 1 time he means it.

Perhaps He's Not Missing Out After All. by NotYoCheese (6.6k)

Peter is devastated after he is told that he is not allowed to go on the field trip with the rest of his class tomorrow. Tony steps in and tells him that he can stay at the tower on the day of the field trip. Only, Peter didn't realize that the field trip was to the tower, and guess who the lucky intern who gets to give them a tour is . . .

Featuring a shocked class that finds out that Peter isn't lying, a very angry Flash, and maybe even some IronDad Fluff

Planes, Trains, and the Trauma Response by imgoingtocrash and savvysass (6.9k)

The world around him is solid. It makes sense. Despite the existence of aliens and literal gods in their galaxy—the science of it all makes sense. They just have yet to figure it all out.

Then he’d been thrown into a spiral of falsehoods—one after another, all so fast, all so real—and suddenly he’s in

the Netherlands. It’s too nice compared to the horrors he became used to—a far cry from the real world: a world of dead parents, dead uncles, and half of a universe, dead with the snap of one creature’s fingers.

Where once there was certainty…now there’s fragility.

So, when he sees Tony step out of the plane instead of Happy…he falters.

Mr Stark Enough For You? (another field trip fic bcs we dont have enough) by Livinei (7k)

Peter isn’t worried because he thinks Tony won’t say yes, he’s worried because he’s sure Tony will. And he’s not sure how he feels about having his entire class waltzing around the place where he spends practically more time than in his own home, where he has his own room, and where he regularly eats Lucky Charms with one of the most influential men in the country, in his pajamas. Not that they’d ever know any of that. Tour groups don’t go to the living quarters of the Tower anyways, they hardly ever go past the 50th floor, Peter knows that. And it isn’t fair to his class if he doesn’t ask just because he…spends a lot of time there?

Yeah, Peter sighs, he has to ask. He promised, anyways.

you'll always get there first by crowkag (7k)

Home, home, home home home. It played on loop in Peter’s brain, loud and tumbling and distracting…

But not in a way that would have him miss the silver Audi speeding toward him in the opposite direction, a sight that made him do a double-take for two reasons.

One, because the fancy car was a foreign presence after nothing but rusty, dented Ford pickups for the past hour.

And two, he was pretty sure that was Tony in the driver’s seat.

Peter Parker's Super Secret Snack Stash by coconutknightshade (7k)

"It's D, Peter. We talked about this."

“No it’s not, Ned. Because if it were D then I would be wrong and that would put me at a 65% already on this practice exam and we haven’t even gotten through it all. I can’t fail another history exam, Ned! This last one is worth 60% of our grade! If I fail this final then I’ll fail the class and if I fail the class then I’ll be kicked out of school-”

“You’re top of our year, Peter.” You can almost hear Ned’s eye roll as he talks over Peter.

“- and if I’m kicked out of school then I’ll be forced to live on the streets exchanging sexual favors for money and I can’t do that, Ned! I wouldn’t even know what to charge- I mean, what’s the street value of a blow job, Ned? Do you know? Because I sure as shit don’t.” At this point Ned is outright giggling over Peter’s theatrics.

Pickle Starburst by Bergen (7.5k)

One mundane evening, an awkward, wide-eyed teenager with strange enhanced abilities tumbles into Tony’s office and claims he is from the year 2017, twelve years into the future.

Tony doesn’t really do kids. Or whack jobs. So a combination of the two is a challenge.

But when has Tony ever backed down from a challenge?

for the love of freefall by sagemb (7.9k)

Happy does not, in fact, pick Peter up on Wednesday. Instead, when he and Ned walk out of the school building, there’s a small crowd gathering next to a convertible orange Audi R8 idling in the fire lane. A man with a familiar goatee and rose-colored sunglasses is sitting in the driver’s seat.

Peter’s brain short-circuits for a second.

5 Times Peter Sleepwalked And The 1 Time He Pretended He Did by losingmymindtonight (8.7k)

Peter sleepwalks, Tony stresses.

Man in a Can by JinxQuickfoot (10k)

Peter could hear the voices floating down to him, muffled by the floorboards nailed into place above his head and cemented over with the industrial strength tiles that made up Tony’s workshop floor. The last thing he had remembered was a dark figure appearing over him in bed, then he had woken up here, groggy and exhausted and unable to move.

Unable to move because whoever had grabbed him had covered him in concrete from toes to mouth, repaired Tony’s floor, and left him there.

We Will Foresee Obstacles by blackwatchandromeda (11k)

The war is over. Thanos has been defeated, the population has been restored, and Peter has lost one of the most important people in his life.

After the funeral, Peter meets Harley and Morgan. They're all in the same position, all missing the same person, and it's not long before they come up with a scheme to save him.

That is, if they can pull it off.

When You Assume Wrong by TentativeTreason (14k)

Tony is hiding something.

The Avengers notice the little discrepancies in Tony’s behaviour, and they eventually come to the only conclusion they can think of: Tony is having an affair.

Five Times Peter Parker Pretended to Be Asleep by blondsak (16k)

...and the one time he actually was.

Or: sometimes, faking sleep can work to your advantage. When it comes to trying to fool a certain genius, overprotective, superhero mentor, Peter finds this to be doubly true.

Definitely Worth It by jennylarner (16k)

Peter doesn't want to go on a field trip to Stark Tower. It's a recipe for disaster. His class doesn't believe him, his teacher doesn't believe him. If he makes it through the entire day without being suspended, it'll be a miracle. Unfortunately for Peter, he's never much believed in miracles.

What I Really Need is You by happyaspie (18k)

Five Things Peter Needs From Tony and One Thing He Wants.

@ironman follows you by malyin_roza (27k)

“Eighteen detentions last month alone, disgraceful amount of absent hours – often odd classes mid-day or half a day. I won’t mention the after-class clubs, or nerd groups, or whatever it is you do for ‘fun’ that actually counts in to your records anyway.”

Peter sat frozen on the spot, his face growing hot and red after rapidly paling when Tony began talking.

“I – I – look, I, let me explain – “

“That’s,” Tony pointed at him, silencing with one look, “that’s where we might start.”

“Start?” the teen repeated uneasily.

Sweet Jesus, what did he have on him?

“I solved it all, you’re welcome.”

A beat of silence as Peter blinked at him.

Cloak and Dagger by Velnetta (34k)

After being kidnapped with some of earth’s greatest defenders, Peter is grateful that it appears that their captors aren’t aware that he’s Spider-man.

The problem? To the Avengers, he's just Tony Stark's teenage intern- and Peter intends to keep it that way.

turn back the clock (and I'll try again in the morning) by madasthesea (35k)

Peter gets stuck in a time loop. In it, he lives through some of his worst nightmares, only to wake up that morning and have no one remember. He needs Tony to help him get through.

And if that isn't bad enough, his identity is revealed over and over, every day.

Time to Pretend by Rowan_M (38k)

A villain attacking New York sends an injured Peter back in time to the year 2000. Not knowing how to get home, Peter asks Tony Stark for help and ends up finding out a lot about his and Tony's past.

Peter is given an opportunity to change the future, or leave things be.

In My Dreams by MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays (48k)

Red.

Red was quite the color.

The color of love, the color of hate.

The color of glowing cheeks under a streetlight, of smiling lips and sweet rose petals. The color of a sour lollipop in a child’s young hand.

The color of war, of blood, of pain. The color that plagued the nightmares of the bravest men.

Yes, red was quite a few things at once, but right now, it was the color that coated Peter Parker’s hands as he stumbled away from the warm corpses of his aunt and uncle, silhouetted cruelly by the neon store signs, and into the unknown of a quiet, star-dotted night in Queens.

A Hundred Feet Under by thisisnotourlasthunt (59k)

Months after the events in Civil War, a chemical outbreak causes the whole world to fall in a comatose state. The Avengers, who had to reunite when people began to fall, are forced to trap themselves inside a bunker until Bruce Banner and Helen Cho can figure out an antidote. This leads to new friendships to form, and others to heal. All of this a hundred feet underground.

Things go well, until they don't.

While Tony and Steve revisit their actions in Civil War and deal with being a team once again, one of their team members was silently compromised by the chemicals. None of them knew until the effects began to appear. Emotions are shared. The team becomes a family once again and some learn that despite their past actions, there will always be people that will love and care for you. Also, Tony is a stressed dad to a teenager with concerning lack of self preservation skills.

It's a Secret to Everybody by Snapdragon_in_the_Snow (97k)

Peter gets to spend all summer living in Avengers Tower with Tony. When the Rogue Avengers get pardoned and come back to live at the Tower too, they're confused as to who Peter is. However, once they see how Tony acts around Peter, that confusion goes away, as they know for certain who Peter must be - Tony's secret son.

Tony and Peter decide to make the most of the situation, and play along. They hope they can keep up the act all summer. But they soon learn that they barely have to act at all.

built from scraps by peterstank (138k)

“Everybody needs someone. That’s what you said, right?” Pepper meets his eyes and he’s struck by the way she’s almost pleading. “We both lost. We can help each other.”

Her hand, palm up and open, stretches into the space between them.

Peter hesitates.

Then he takes it.

or: the one where tony was dusted instead of peter, so he and pepper try to figure out the whole ‘family’ thing together.

(oh, and it turns out that the man who died in peter’s arms on an alien planet is his biological father. who knew, right?)

Brave as a Noun by edema_ruh (161k)

Some people think that Peter is Tony's son. Why shouldn't they? Peter seems to be orbiting Tony all the time, and it's not like the billionaire tells him off. They have a nice relationship - Peter is glad to have a father figure, and Tony cares for the kid as if he's actually his son.

The first problem regarding this arises when the people who think that Peter is Tony's son kidnap him for ransom.

The second problem regarding this arises when one of the people who kidnaps Peter turns out to be Mac Gargan, the Scorpion, and he's hungry for revenge.

Identity Theft by KitCat992 (267k)

It's been months since the events of Civil War, and the Avengers are doing their best to remain a team, having promised to forgive and forget. Unfortunately for them, Tony Stark's latest invention has been stolen and recovering it causes tension to reappear.

Meanwhile, in Queens, Peter Parker has two main priorities on his plate — complete his midterm finals, and track down a fishbowl wearing criminal that may or may not lead him right into the hands of the Avengers.

Somehow between all of this, Spider-Man's identity is revealed to the Avengers, Steve and Tony's friendship may permanently be damaged due to continued hidden secrets, and Happy struggles to buy a youth-sized casket for Peter's funeral.

Things were a lot easier when they were fighting over Bucky Barnes.

Stab Me in the Back (I'll Catch You From Behind) by Lansfics7 (296k)

"I am going to find Tony," the man hisses in Peter's ear, his gaze cold and cruel. "And when I do, I will kill him, slowly. What do you say to that-" The man stops short because Peter's shoulders are shaking, and before he can curl his lip in victory, he hears a snicker. When he lets go of Peter's hair, the teen's head slumps to his chest, but it's not out of exhaustion or defeat...it's to hide a smile.

The boy lets out a laugh, shaking his head before glancing to the sides admitting apologetically, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it's just- it is so fun to mess with you!" He looks around before snorting, "Tony Stark? That's your play? You're not screwing with me, right? You actually thought that would work? Sorry guys." Peter straightens in his chair with a sneer and a cocky wink, "Tony doesn't give a flying crap about me."

And that's it! Happy reading, and if you have any other fics to rec with this tag - whether they be yours or your friend's - please share them with me! And, as always, thank you to all the amazing writers who share their works with us.

#irondad #spideyson #marvel #mcu #peter parker #tony stark #tony stark has a heart #iron man #spider-man #fic recs #ao3 #lina lore #long post