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thebatfamfanatic · 3 years

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Six Times He Met Her

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, guy taking advantage of a minor in first chap, mention of underage smut in fourth chap, making out?, violence, mentions of blood/injury, main character death, adult language, angst

A/N: First thing I’ve written on Tumblr!! Tell me if anybody likes it, or if I broke your heart. And yes, I know I’m evil.

The first time he saw you was around 2:30 in the morning. Jason was squatting on the edge of a rooftop in Gotham, surveying the dark scenery below him.

Somehow, there was still plenty of traffic on the dirty streets, plenty of cars honking and driving around. Jason always wondered who the fuck needed to be somewhere at 2 am.

He fiddled with a loose seam on the Robin uniform he sported each night, hunting down the assholes of Gotham (pretty much 70% of the city) and putting them in jail, where they belonged.

At 16, Jason Todd technically should have been in bed, maintaining a healthy sleep schedule and doing some rich kid shit during the day. Of course, his adoptive (long story) father, Bruce Wayne, richest playboy in Gotham, employed him to be his little tweety bird sidekick at night, so here he was, at the rendezvous watching the streets. yay. A scream came from an alley nearby. Jason stood, stretched his legs, and leaped down from the roof onto the ground. He pinpointed the alleyway where the noise was coming from and raced into it. A girl, about his age, had been cornered by some bitch dude who thought he could take advantage of this girl. Not on Robin’s watch.

Before the girl could scream again, the guy was on the ground and Jason was helping her up. She shakily took the hand he offered her and looked him in the eye. Shit, she had gorgeous eyes. Jason froze for a second, lost in her beauty, before clearing in his throat.

“Hi. I’m Robin, uh, you probably knew that. Are you okay, ma’am?”

He hated the squeak that came out of his mouth. He sounded like a fucking 5 year old. The girl raised her eyebrow. She had recovered rather quickly. “You don’t have to call me ma’am. I’m not some rich-ass royal whatever from Britain.” Jason liked this one. Sassy, but just so. He inquired where she lived, and she gave him the address. With his grappling hook at the ready, Jason pulled her closer to him. She jumped at the sudden closeness, but seemed to enjoy it. Maybe? He didn’t know shit about girls.

Jason shot the hook, propelling them up in the air, and landed on a rooftop. They continued this routine until he got in front of her house. It was still several seconds before he released her waist.

She started to walk towards her door, before stopping.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Sorry, what?” Jason blinked.

“I thought you were smart, Robin. Its my name, dumb ass.”

Then Y/N disappeared into her house. Jason stood there foolishly outside on her front lawn for a while, thinking about the girl he had just met. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, and he realized 10 minutes later that he had forgotten to ask about where her family was and everything.

Oh well. Bruce would be expecting him anyways. Jason shot his grappling hook and started home, still dazed from the encounter.

The second time you guys met was two weeks later. Jason was just Jason Todd, a normal 10th grader living in the shadow of his (adopted) older brother Dick Grayson. Nobody paid much attention to him, and he didn’t really mind. Mostly Jason focused on getting A’s in class and then retreating into the library until Golden Boy’s after school clubs were over.

That is, until you walked in. It sounded as if you had just moved here, and for a minute, Jason felt a little sorry for you. I mean, Gotham wasn’t the greatest place to spend high school, or any grade, in his opinion.

You looked at your schedule from across the hall and then up at the locker next to him. For a second, your eyes met his and Jason was content. Lost in those brilliant colors. And then you looked away and started walking towards him. He realized just in time maybe he should stop leaning over your locker as you stopped next to him.

“Hi. Y/N. Just moved here. Looks like we’re locker neighbors.”

Jason was about to reply with “I know” but restrained himself. “Jason. Nice to meet you. Congrats on moving to this shitshow.”

He managed to not grin like an idiot as you laughed. The sound was music to his ears, like beautiful bells. God, he was being sappy.

“It’s not much of a shitshow when you’re here.” Ooh, she flirts too. Jason smirked as you opened your locker and dumped your stuff inside, pulling out the things you needed for your first class.

The first bell shrieked just as you closed your locker. “See you around, Jason.”

The small smile you gave him made his day, and he almost forgot to get to class. Yes, you were certainly one of a kind, and yes, Jason wanted you. The question was how to get to that point.

You guys had a couple classes together, and frequently sat at the same table during lunch, so it wasn’t long before you were quick friends with Jason. However, the next notable time you met was a little while after he got your number.

Jason was laying on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through Tumblr as he thought about ways to ask you out.

Y/N, would you grant me the honor of going out with me? No, too Romeo and Juliet.

Hey, want to grab ice cream? He had to make it clear what his intentions were. Then it wouldn’t be weird if he kissed you, right?

Oh, god, if he fucking kissed you….what would that be like? Before Jason could start fantasizing, his fingers were flying across the keyboard and he had sent a text to you. What did he do, what did he-

Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to see that new movie this weekend. It seems like something you would enjoy.

Hm. That was actually pretty good. Where did he come up with that?

Jason had just started inspecting his fingers for some kind of sign of being possessed by smooth-with-girls-syndrome when you responded. He looked up and read it quickly.

Sure, I’d love that! Thanks for thinking of me ❤️

A heart. You had put a heart at the end of it. Did that mean you knew it was a date?

Jason sighed. He certainly hoped so.

The weekend date went good. By the end of it, Jason was sure you knew it was a date. The second one passed, and then the third. The third one was when you hesitantly pecked him on the cheek. The fourth was when he kissed you actually. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was just enough for him to take you on a fourth date. An actual “will you go out with me on a date” kind of thing.

He took you to a restaurant in the fancy part of things. You two ate food that two broke 16 year olds technically shouldn’t have been able to afford, but Bruce helped Jason out.

Jason drove you home afterwards and discussed the topic of the upcoming summer during the car ride. What you were doing, where he was going. The entire time, Jason had butterflies in his stomach. He wasn’t sure how to act. Was he messing it all up, or were you actually into him?

Once he parked in front of your house and walked you up to the stoop, you looked at him. He noticed you were biting your lip nervously, and god, why did he think that was so hot? “My parents aren’t home.” It was the softest Jason had ever heard you speak, but he knew what you meant. He smiled gently, and kissed you again. This one was destined to last longer, and before either of you realized it, you had opened your door and you were leading him to your bedroom.

That night was one neither of you would forget, and by the end of it, Jason had officially asked out successfully.

You and Jason spent a lot of time together after that. You met his older brother, Dick (who was very happy for Jason, too happy in his opinion) and his dad, Bruce Wayne. Bruce was cool, but very busy all the time.

By two months, Jason still hadn’t told you his identity as Robin, and he was running out of excuses. One day, you confronted him, assuming he was cheating on you. He tried everything, but he had to go out on patrol.

Jason left that night assuming you were broken up. The entire patrol, he wasn’t himself. Truth was, he loved you so much he was afraid of losing you. That had become his greatest fear. It was that night everything went wrong.

You were out taking a late night walk. Down by the pier, a cold wind was blowing, and as you walked past warehouse after warehouse, you pulled your coat tighter.

You were affected as well, and confused about where you and your boyfriend stood. Did you guys just breakup? Did he love you? Did–

A scream echoed from one of the warehouses. You turned, afraid of stepping closer but afraid of leaving the person. Eventually, your curiosity won over and you climbed up several crates to peer into the window.

What you saw inside almost made you scream yourself. Robin, the hero everybody talked about, lay defenseless and bloody on the ground as a tall man-the Joker- whacked him over and over again with a crowbar.

You gasped, wanting to help, but you knew that would be foolish. You would just get in the way for a minute. Tears started to form in your eyes as Robin weakly cried out from the pain. He looked so…helpless.

Joker relentlessly beat him with the crowbar, and Robin’s mask began to come off. You rubbed the tears from your eyes just as the mask fell to the ground.

“No.” was the only thing that you could muster. Jason lay on the ground in the bloody Robin suit. Jason fucking Todd. There was your boyfriend, being beaten to death by the asshole of all assholes. That was why he kept disappearing at night, because he fucking protected the city!

You were mad at yourself for being so cruel to Jason without knowing what was really going on. You barely paid attention as Batman and Nightwing suddenly burst through the windows.

Joker laughed, and said something you couldn’t hear from the outside. Probably taunting Batman as he watched his apprentice get beat to death.

A fight broke out, Batman lunging at Joker as Nightwing rushed to Jason, laying broken on the ground. You had just enough time to duck as a Batarang came swooping out of the hands of the Caped Crusader and straight through the window you were looking through.

It was then you realized how close Jason was to death, and what you needed to do. The window pricked your jacket as you jumped through it, but you didn’t care. Gymnastics back in 6th grade helped when you landed awkwardly. Nightwing spun around, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that was Dick, which meant Bruce was Batman.

However, none of that mattered when Jason was half dead in front of you. Nightwing- Dick- made no effort to stop you as you knelt in front of Jason. “No, no, no.” You cradled his head in your hands, trying hard not to recognize how limp his body was, and how his chest barely moved as he struggled to breathe.

Jason’s eyes were closed, tears running down his face silently. You were crying as well, mumbling curses and things that made no sense.

“Please, don’t be dead. Please, I-I love you.”

You watched Jason make no acknowledgement he could hear you, watched him breathe once more. His chest rose and never fell.

You screamed and buried your head in his costume, not caring about getting blood on your face. Dick pulled you away wordlessly, out of the warehouse. You barely registered that the warehouse exploded behind you a few seconds later.

Dick let you sob into his shoulder for what seemed like hours. Him and Bruce exchanged a short conversation, both riddled with grief.

Six times you and Jason had met, and that was the last.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd angst #jason todd smut #jason todd fluff #dc comics #robin!jason

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nat-20s · 3 years

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Part 2 of post-canon Wonderful! Au because it is extremely fun for me to write!

~*~

Martin: Hello again, and welcome back to, uh-

Jon: -the shitshow?

Martin: No! At worst this podcast is like, the audio equivalent a messy living room. If there’s no worms or clowns or, or evil bosses that are actively trying to kill you, it’s not a shitshow.

Jon: You are aware that comments like that are the reason that we have conspiracy theorists, right?

Martin: Hey, I’ve read a fair amount of those conspiracy theories, and a couple of them have been weirdly bang on.

Jon: Martin, love, no, please do not feed into their suspicions. Once again, as general disclaimer, this show has no larger narrative. It really is just us having a nice time.

Martin: Seriously, though, what about our discussions of beekeeping or the feeling of discovering a new favorite album has got people believing we’re secretly vampires? Or from a parallel universe slightly to the left of this one? Could you imagine?

Jon, dry enough to chap lips: Hardly.

Jon: Though I will say, any of the theories that involve one or both of us being supernatural creatures are my personal favorites. I’m fascinated by what people are picking up on there, considering we are two perfectly normal human people.

Martin: Well, you are preternaturally handsome.

Jon: Oh god, shut up! That was terrible! First of all, even if that were true-

Martin:-it is. To everyone listening, my husband is very very good looking. I’d say he’s a trophy husband, but it turns out he’s also smart and loving and funny and strong and kind-

Jon, somehow blushing out loud: Will you stop it! As I was saying, first off, this is audio only, they have no idea how I look-

Martin: -you sound handsome-

Jon:-secondly, my husband outshines the sun, so if anyone should be accused of being preternaturally handsome, it’s certainly him-

Martin crosstalking, pleased:- christ, being on the receiving end of that is awful-

Jon: and finally, weren’t you last week saying something about an embarrassing old men in love quota? It’s wildly unfair of you to deplete our entire allowed supply in one comment at the top of the episode.

Martin: We actually got some feedback on that. Some of it was like, “no quota, we love love”, which is very nice, but trust me, it would result in an unlistenable show, and I’m the one that has to edit it. Most of it was closer to “old men? Aren’t you both in your mid-thirties lol?”. We are, but you know how people have the sentiment of “age is an attitude” when trying to encourage 60 year olds to go ziplining or whatever? Turns out, they’re right, and we’re in our 70s yelling at kids to get off our lawn.

Jon: Speak for yourself. My all white hair and deeply limited ability to care about popular culture makes me an absolute paragon of youth.

Martin, laughing: Of course. Especially by calling it “popular culture”.

Jon: Check the tik tok, it’s the preferred vernacular of The Youths, of which I am one.

Martin, still laughing: Yes, dear. Anyway, now that we’ve said nothing of import for a good three minutes, we should get on with the actual content, huh? Got any small wonders?

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Want to elaborate on that a little?

Jon: I do. There’s. Um. I swear there was something.

Martin: Want me to go first and come back to you?

Jon: Please.

Martin: My small wonder is the third area of feedback we got about last week. Specifically, it’s a five star review from Caitlyn S. that simply says, “I Can Not Stand Them” followed by a heart emoji.

Jon: Thank you Caitlyn. We also cannot stand each other, heart emoji.

Martin: Now it’s your turn to speak for yourself, I can stand you plenty. Actually, I would say I more than stand you, I rather like you a lot, heart emoji.

Jon, fond: Someone’s in a mood today, huh?

Martin: What can I say, it’s the first day of sun we’ve had in two? Two and half? Weeks. Forgive me if I feel like everything is a bit lighter.

Jon: No forgiveness necessary. Actually, that’s my small wonder, the first day of sunshine after weeks of grey, and, more specifically, how it makes my husband obnoxiously effusive with affection.

Martin, not genuinely wounded: Obnoxious?!

Jon: Only for others to witness, darling. If we weren’t recording right now, I would be personally responding to it with some very enthusiastic kissing.

Martin:…

Martin: So that will take us to our ad break.

Jon, laughing: We don’t have ads. Even if we did, this isn’t live.

Martin: What I’m hearing is that you think we should sacrifice artistic integrity-

(Jon snorts)

-and the genuine flow of conversation, before, might I add, we’ve even done our first things, in order to participate in some, ah, distinctly non-sexual but still amorous activity?

Jon: I didn’t say that, but I’m not opposed to it either.

Martin. In that case, listeners, if you hear any sort of audio differences as I talk about my first thing, no you didn’t, why would you, because we’re definitely not going to take a 5 to 15 minute break right now.

[THERE IS A DISTINCT OUT OF BREATH QUALITY TO THEIR SPEECH AS THEY BEGIN DISCUSSING MARTIN’S FIRST THING]

#tma #jonmartin #post canon #jon sims #martin blackwood #this part inspired by someone saying imagine the red string brigade for this podcast #and the thought tickled me SO MUCH #wonderful! au

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holylulusworld · 3 years

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Single Parent

Title: Single parent

Square Filled: Relationship break-up

Ship: Mobster!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Benny LaFitte

Rating: Mature

Summary: Your arranged bond with Dean grows fruits but you can’t be happy as you should.

Warnings: angst, language, arranged marriage, unrequited feelings, sad reader, abandonment, Dean being a douche, giving birth (no description), shitty relationship, pregnant reader

A/N: I already outlined the story before I got the request. I changed the ending and a few scenes to make it fit.

Word Count: 3.5 k

Written/Created for: @spnmixedbingo

Divider by @firefly-graphics

2021 SPN Mixed BINGO Masterlist

Now…

“No John, I’m done,” you cry, running your hand over your baby bump. “You could force me to marry your son, to stay with him and have his heir,” you sniff, looking around the guest room you chose over your comfortable bedroom. “But you can’t force me to play the obedient housewife. I tried, John—I really tried but Dean doesn’t even like me.”

“He’s just a little stubborn and rough on the outside like me, doll,” John tries to reason with you. “Show him the latest ultrasound and he’ll change.”

“No, he won’t,” voice bitter you sit on the bed, shaking your head lightly. “That’s the problem. I-I’m nothing more than a breeder to your son. I know he doesn’t reciprocate my feelings, but I had hoped he’ll be kinder to me when he sees me swollen with his child. I know he cares for the baby, but sadly I’m not sure it’s because he loves them or as you want an heir.”

“Y/N,” sitting next to you John watches you tear up. Months of rejection and coldness took a toll on you. “I didn’t know it’s that bad.”

“He told Sam I’m nothing but a vessel for his child, John. I could be dead, and he wouldn’t care,” choking out a sob you give John a sad smile. “Did you know he never came to the doctor with me? He never showed and my gynecologist believes I am a single parent – and maybe I am.”

“What happened last week? Why did you suddenly move out of your shared bedroom, doll? Did Dean hurt you?”

“Not physically-“ you huff, looking at the wedding band around your finger. “I was at my doctor’s practice for the next check-up, as usual, Dean didn’t show, even though, he promised to be there,” sniffling you take the wedding band off, dropping it onto the bed, not wanting to feel it on your skin right now.

“We had a meeting, I’m sorry for keeping Dean away from you,” John lies, you can see it in his eyes and his voice is a little too low. He doesn’t realize you know him too well to not see through his lies. “Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt you, Y/N.”

“I saw all those happy couples and excited dad’s pacing around the waiting room and realized, Dean gives a shit on me and his child. I can’t leave, but at the same time I won’t pretend Dean is not the cold-hearted man he is,” sadly you can’t hide you are still in love with his son, but your try your hardest.

“What happened, Y/N? I heard you fought with your husband. Did he hurt you?” John presses. “I need to know…”

“You really want to know? Fine, I’ll tell you everything happening that day-“

One week earlier…

“Mrs. Winchester,” the nurse chirps, leading you into the room. “Where’s your husband? Didn’t he want to join us today?”

“He wanted but as always, business comes first,” you grumble, handing the young woman a business card. “That’s my brothers-in-law’s number. If I ever need help, please call him.”

“What about your husband?” confused the nurse looks at you, blinking a few times before she recognizes your teary eyes. “Ah, got it. I will call Sam Winchester if it’s necessary. We will add it to your medical record.”

“Thank you,” giving the nurse a sad smile you try to push the tears away. “As I said, my husband is always busy, and Sam offered his help. If not, call the second number, that’s my father-in-law.”

“No problem, Mrs. Winchester. Now let’s turn our attention toward your baby. Are you excited to find out about the gender?” nodding you swallow the lump in your throat, hiding you wished Dean would’ve come to find out with you.

“All done, Cher?” watching you walk out of the practice, a soft smile on his lips Benny offers his hand to you. “So, did they tell you the gender today?”

“It’s a boy,” you choke out, done fighting the tears. “You’re the first one I told, Benny-“ ignoring people watch you cry outside of your doctor’s practice you hide your face in Benny’s chest.

“He should’ve been here, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

“Everyone is always sorry; everyone but Dean,” angrily fisting Benny’s jacket you look up at your bodyguard. “I’m done trying, Benny. This is ridiculous. He’s not interested in me or the baby.”

“Dean cares about the baby, Cher,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “It’s true.”

“Dean only cares about my son as he needs an heir. There is no love in him. I-I wanted to share this with him. Dean, he should’ve been here with me, experience every step but he refuses to even give me that. My first pregnancy should’ve been something special but now, it only makes me sad.”

“How’s the baby?” Dean asks, awaiting your report as usual.

“Still alive. Benny got the ultrasound if you want to see them. If you want to know about the gender, ask your friend too,” you quip, walking toward the walk-in-wardrobe to get your favorite pajamas, you ignore Dean follows you. “Unlike other people he was there.”

“I had a meeting, Y/N,” arguing Dean watches you gather more clothes, frowning as you didn’t jump on him to tell him every single detail about your appointment.

Usually, you would excitedly tell him about the baby, forcing him to look at the ultrasound picture and demand his attention. Today, you barely said two words, not even tried to talk to him.

“A meeting, sex with one of your girls – I don’t care Dean. I’m tired of this, of you. To give you the space you need, I’ll go and have lunch with Charlie. Don’t wait for me–“ you chuckle, humorlessly. “Ah, yeah I forgot. You wouldn’t care if I never return.” walking out of the room, leaving a speechless Dean behind, you slam the door shut, making him flinch.

“Benny, my wife is gone; just like all of her belongings, we need to find her! She’s pregnant with my child.”

“You only care about the baby, huh? Do you even know it’s a boy, Dean?” Benny sneers, placing the ultrasound picture into Dean’s hand. “Y/N is not gone, she simply moved into the guestroom next to John’s room. I helped her while you were out, doing god knows.”

“Wait – she moved into the guestroom? Why?”

“Seriously, Dean? You promised to be there, at least to get to know about the gender, and yet, you didn’t come to the practice. I think Y/N gave up trying,” huffing Dean watches you step out of the guestroom, ignoring he glares at you.

“Y/N, you can’t just move out of our bedroom!” muttering the words Dean watches you walk past him.

“Oh, you meant me. I thought I’m only a vessel, a breeder to carry your heir,” whipping your head toward Dean you give him a cold glare. Your heart races and you can feel fresh tears well-up to your eyes, but you need to get this out before you can return to your room and cry some more.

“I’m talking to you, Y/N. What if you go into labor and I’m not close by?” Dean mutters.

“I think it’s for the best you keep on ignoring me and give your whores all of your attention,” brushing past Dean you slap his hand away when he tries to touch you.

“Y/N!”

“Don’t Winchester-“ you growl. “I fulfilled my duty and got pregnant. Now you can stick your dick into any pussy and stay the fuck away from me and don’t worry about my labor. I will, just like anything else since I got pregnant, handle this on my own. If I should need help at any point of my pregnancy, Sam and John offered to be there for me.”

Now …

“Dean messed up epically, huh?” John carefully tries when you get up to walk toward the nursery next to the guestroom. “What are you going to do?“

"Nothing, John. Just like the first four months of my pregnancy, I will try to do what’s best for my son,“ John’s eyes light up when you tell him he’s going to have a grandson. “Today I’ll focus on finishing the nursery. Benny and Sam helped me with the wallpaper and cradle. I must check on the bears I painted and will make a list of what I will need.”

“I can help,“ offering you a cracked smile John holds out his hand. “I got you into this shitshow, let me at least try to make things easier for you, doll.”

“You could check on the shelves and cradle,” you sniff. “I just wish I had a man like you or Sam by my side. I see the way Sam cares about his wife and children. I know Dean is a little closed-off, like you but he’s kind to everyone he likes. Must be me.”

“Oh, Y/N,” slinging one arm around your shoulders John leads you out of your chosen bedroom. “You still got people caring about you. Sammy and I will be there and help you.”

“I know…”

“You’re talented,” looking at the bears you painted John smiles. “Mommy bear and baby bear,” he hums, admiring your painting. “Where’s the dad?”

“I’m a single parent, John. Why should I paint a daddy bear if he gives a shit on me and his son?” Dean stands in the doorframe, watching his father help you fix one of the shelves, swallowing thickly. “You know, every single woman at my doctor’s practice looks so happy, they glow and I just-“

“I get it, Y/N. You wanted your pregnancy to be special,” nodding you look at the bears. “You could draw an Uncle Sammy and Granddad John bear.”

“I’ll think about it, John,” with a small smile on your lips you watch John place the plushies onto one of the shelves. “You know, he didn’t even care about my morning sickness or cravings. I had this image in my mind. Dean the devoted soon-to-be dad helping me during my pregnancy. I know he doesn’t love me, I’m not delusional. But a bit more attention would’ve been nice.”

Two months later…

Used to being on your own you walk into your doctor’s practice. This time you don’t look at all the happy couples wishing it were you and Dean. Over the last weeks, you made up your mind.

Only as you don’t get to leave Dean doesn’t mean you must bear his behavior. So, you decided to keep your distance and only ask John, Sam, or Benny for help with the nursery.

You no longer tell Dean about your check-ups or try to include him in your pregnancy.

“Morning, Mrs. Winchester,” you flinch when the nurse calls your name. “How are you feeling today? Will the baby daddy be here today too?”

“No,” you breathe out. “Let’s be honest, Sally.” giving the young nurse a sad smile, you point toward the other pairs. “I know you are only trying to be friendly but anytime you are asking about my non-present husband it stings. Why don’t you treat me like a single parent? Cause that’s what I am.”

“How’s the baby?” Dean asks again, following you toward the nursery. “Listen, I know you try to punish me but not telling me about our baby breaks one of my rules.”

“The baby is still alive. He grows fast and the ultrasound picture lies on your desk. If you have more questions, call my gynecologist or,” turning around you give Dean a cold look, “you could move your ass to the practice next time but I get it – you were busy.”

“I got the right to know about my son,” growling the words Dean steps closer but this time, he doesn’t intimidate you with his size. “Tell me everything.”

“Weight and size are average. His heartbeat is strong, and he sucked his thumb today,” you scoff at Dean’s sudden interest. “You would know more about your child if you actually cared. He started to be more active, I can feel our little boy kick me harder but so far, only John felt our baby kick.”

Walking away you enter your room, slamming the door shut behind you, locking it to take a deep breath.

“He’s my son too! You can’t shut me out!” Dean yells from the hallway.

“Sperm donator, you son of a bitch,” you growl. “If it were up to me, I’d file for divorce.”

“YOU WON’T!” he mutters. “I will not allow you to leave me.”

“I got that, but you should know that our marriage is over to me. If you dare to get close to me ever again, you’ll lose your hands or cock. Go and fuck one of your sluts.”

“I should-“ frustrated Dean kicks your door. “You’re still my wife, Y/N. I expect you to respect me and our bond.”

“Fuck that,” feeling exhausted you lie on your bed, gently running one hand over your belly. “He’ll not ruin your life, baby boy. I promise to protect you from your asshole father.”

“I heard that.”

“I don’t fucking care,” you cry. “Now leave me alone. You got the information you need. Don’t worry, your heir is still healthy. Even though, you didn’t help me at all…”

Two months, two weeks, and five days later…

“Looks good,” John hums, glancing at the ultrasound picture. “How are you, doll? Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” looking at your wedding band you try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Is there a way to protect my child from Dean? Can you add something to the prenup? Please.”

“I will not allow Dean to hurt your son, Y/N. I don’t think Dean would ever lay a finger on him-“

“That’s not what I meant. Being around Dean is unhealthy for me. What will he do to our child? How shall I explain to my baby boy that his father hates me? That I’m only a breeder to him, a body he could use to get a child.”

“Are you fucking my father?” ludicrously you look at Dean when he storms into your room, your solace. “That’s the reason you moved out of our bedroom – huh? You spread your legs for John Winchester.”

“What the fuck, Dean?” you sniff, reluctantly leaving the bed. “Over the last week I barely left my room as I didn’t feel well, and you accuse me of such a thing? I don’t have the time to fuck anyone. Unlike you, I had to take care of anything-“ whimpering you feel a piercing pain ripple through your womb. “Oh, god-“

“Y/N?” paling Dean watches you crouch down in front of your bed, crying out in pain. “What’s wrong? Y/N, talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Go and get your father or Sam,” you pant, while you try to remember everything the midwife taught you. “I think the baby wants to get out.”

“No, it’s too early,” panicked Dean rushes to your side to help you sit on the bed. “I’ll call an ambulance, Y/N.”

“O-okay-“ you scream, feeling another painful contraction approach. “No, no. My water just broke.” tears run down your cheeks when John and Sam stumble into the room. They heard your screams and try to help.

“Fuck, doll,” John mumbles, kneeling in front of you to calm you. “Sammy, call an ambulance and tell Benny to get Y/N’s bags. I’ll stay here to help her.”

“I already called an ambulance. Stop acting as if that’s your son,” Dean growls, glaring at his father.

“Do you want to help the mother of your child or fight with me right now, son? I think you showed how much you are interested in your child. Now shut the fuck up and help me here,” John would like to give his son a piece of mind but right now, he must take care of you.

“John,” grasping for your father-in-law’s hand, “promise me he won’t be there. I don’t want Dean inside the room while I give birth.”

"That’s my wife and child in there! Lemme inside,” Dean growls, fighting against one of the security guards. “Let me pass.”

“DEAN,” John’s voice booms through the hallway. “Your wife is in there. She’s in pain, scared, and tries to give birth to your baby. Stop acting like an idiot. You had it coming.”

“You didn’t care about your child or wife for over eight months. Did you honestly believe she wants you in there?” Sam huffs, squeezing Jess’s hand. “I was with Jess the whole time. I heard the heartbeat, saw my baby, felt it kick. I can’t believe you didn’t want to experience any of it.“

“I-I never wanted to marry Y/N. It was an arranged bond,” Dean sniffs, hearing you cry out in pain.

“This doesn’t change she’s your wife and that she needed you. Even more important, your son needed you. I believe babies bond with their parents in the womb. You could’ve talked to him, played music, or feel him kick.”

“Look at you baby boy,” cooing your son you feel your heart swell. Even if Dean is not going to show any affection toward your child, you’ll give the little boy all your love. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Can I finally see him too?” Dean mutters, sneaking into your room. “How could you let my father, Sam, and Jess see my son first?”

“I didn’t think you will find the time to visit me and your baby. If you would excuse me now, I want to concentrate on Robert Maximilian Winchester.”

“What?” gaping at you Dean feels his stomach churn. “You named him Robert? But-but we agreed to name him Dean jr. How could you not only keep me away while giving birth but also deciding on a name without me? That’s cruel.” Dean sniffs, looking at your son in your arms.

“Cruel–?” you take a deep breath, try to ignore the burning rage running through your veins. “Do you know what cruel means, Winchester? Cruel means that your husband, the man you love with all your heart ignores you completely. Cruel means that he never shows affection or at least cares about you during pregnancy.”

“I’m his father!”

“Sperm donator,” you retort. “We are only a breeder and a sperm donator. You are not a father, and never will be. You’ll not hurt my baby boy and push him away as you did with me. You can lay claim on him when he turns 18, until then I’ll give him all the love he deserves.”

“He’s my baby boy too,” sniffling Dean looks at your child, tearing up. “Let me at least hold him. Please.”

“Not today,” adamant you defend your son, not giving in. It’s your turn to be selfish and not to show any compassion. Dean can cry as much as he wants to.

Today, you’ll be the cruel one – even if it kills you.

“She doesn’t let me hold my son,” outside of your room Dean starts to cry. “I wasn’t allowed to hold my baby boy. How can she be so cruel?”

“I say it again – you had it coming,” John shrugs, ignoring he feels sorry for his son. “Y/N never was cruel. All she wanted was a bit of affection. Why couldn’t you give her that?”

“I just didn’t feel like pretending. But I care about our baby and want to hold him.”

Dean doesn’t leave your side. He sits next to your bed, still looking at his son.

“Please let me hold him, Y/N.”

“Five minutes,” you whisper, not looking at Dean. “You can hold him for five minutes and after that, you can pretend we do not exist until you need your heir.”

“It’s not like that,” with trembling fingers Dean takes Robert Maximillian out of your hands. “He’s so beautiful and tiny.”

“It’s a baby, what did you expect,” turning around to not watch Dean with your son you close your eyes. “Tell me when you are done playing daddy, Dean.”

“Why are you so cold. This isn’t you, Y/N.”

“That’s what happens to a loving person when she gives up. If you don’t like me the way I am now, you can always ask your dad to let me out of this marriage...”

“Look this is your room, baby boy,” cooing your baby you walk around the room. “There is a teddy bear, and over there is a cute duck. Maybe you’ll like the cat Sammy bought for you?”

“He doesn’t like cats,” Dean grumbles, walking into the nursery. “I bet he’s allergic like me.” hopefully looking at you Dean holds out his hands. “Come on, lemme hold him for a while.”

“I will leave you to your son, Dean. If you are done pretending you are a father, holler and I’ll take care of Robert,” carefully placing your son into Dean’s arms you ignore he tries to talk to you.

“Y/N, we should talk about a few things.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, Dean. I’m stuck in this marriage, but this doesn’t mean I let you walk all over me ever again. I am a single parent, and this will not change…”

>> Part 2

SPN Forever Tags

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--------------------------------------

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

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#Single Parent #dean winchester #SPNMixedBingo #dean winchester fanfic #mobster!dean x reader #MOBSTER!AU #angst #unrequited love #pregnant reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester x you #mobster!dean winchester x reader

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mellowswriting · 3 years

Note

OMG CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWERS MY LOVE!!!!💙💙 I would love to request something angst but with a happy ending with Frankie please!!! I’m open for anything! Thank you so much!!!

Always

pairing || Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Reader

summary || You step in when Frankie’s ex leaves him with their baby and in turn, find your own little family.

word count || 7,213

warnings || angst, hurt/comfort, parental abandonment

a/n || Thank you so much! Somehow this started as something small and then exploded into my longest fic on this blog. Enjoy! (p.s this gif does things to me smh)

Main Masterlist | Join the taglist!

The last thing you expected was a phone call at the crisp time of 11:43 pm. It had been a long day already with your job being a disaster and you were half tempted to just let it ring so you could stay in the warm, safe cocoon of your bed...but something in your gut nagged at you to pick up, told that it was important. The bleary sight of Frankie’s name on your phone screen had you sitting up and rushing to hit the green ‘accept call’ button - he would never call this late unless it was serious.

He sounded wrecked, his voice panic-stricken and cracking over words too rushed for you to understand, and your heart began pounding. In all of your years of knowing Francisco Morales, you had never heard him like this. Not when he called you while he was out on deployment, not when he whispered to you about the horrors he had seen overseas, not when you comforted him after the shitshow that happened in South America.

“Frankie, slow down. I can’t understand you,” You tried to make your voice calm and reassuring but your worry bubbled through anyway, and you threw back the warm comfort of your blankets to scramble for clothes. Whatever this was, you needed to be there. There was no way in hell you would just listen to your best friend go through it over the phone. “What’s going on?”

A deep, shuddering breath crackled through the receiver, then “Eliza left us. She just...she just fucking left.”

Your breath caught in your throat and acidic anger ripped up through your chest, nearly suffocating you in it’s intensity. The mere idea of her walking out on Frankie and their new baby after all she had already put him through...god, you could just scream. It was forced down with a harsh swallow - it was not the time for your own anger. With your sweatpants and hoodie yanked on, you paused, struggling to find any words of comfort. “I’m on my way, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

“Ok” Frankie whispered and that was how you knew just how bad it was - he didn’t try to convince you not to come out so late or that you could just come in the morning like he did any other time he was in crisis. “Please don’t hang up.”

“Frankie…” You whispered. Your heart ached for him, wrestling with your anger. “I won’t. I’ll stay on the line, I promise.”

You rambled about any and everything as you drove. He needed to hear your voice, needed to be distracted, but you felt a bit ridiculous talking about the boring things you dealt with at work that day while he was in crisis. It helped, obvious by the way his breathing evened out as he listened and hummed in response.

There was no telling just how many traffic laws you broke as you sped the few blocks between your home and his. All you could do was be glad you weren't pulled over and managed to throw your car in park and kill the engine in the gravel driveway within ten minutes of leaving your own house. The front door swung open before you even managed to get out of your car and you practically sprinted up the steps to wrap your best friend in your arms.

Frankie stumbled back slightly as you collided with his chest but he curled his arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck nonetheless. No words passed through the nonexistent space between you. There wasn’t any need. You pushed the door closed behind you before you led him further into his living room and settled next to him on the couch. The sight of his bloodshot eyes and the exhausted slope to his shoulders had a wild mix of anger and sadness whirling through you.

“Where’s Isabella?” You whispered.

“She’s asleep upstairs. Eliza dropped her off and she just...slept right through it all, the entire argument.” His voice was hoarse, a testament to his rough night. “I...I can’t do this on my own.”

“Hey, you aren’t on your own.” You said, your tone soft but leaving no room for argument. “I’m not going to tell you it’s going to be easy, but you sure as hell aren’t alone. You have me and the boys. God knows Santi will be happy to flex his status as godfather even more.”

That pulled a half-hearted smile from Frankie. It was fleeting, gone in less than a second, but you counted it as a win nonetheless. Watching that far away look return to his eyes made you chest ache and you were desperate to break the spell of worry and anger that hung over him. Somehow knowing that you couldn’t even if you tried brought you no closer to peace.

“Have you eaten?” You asked as you carefully brushed a hand through his hair, appreciating the curls that were usually hidden under his hat. Frankie leaned into the touch and you smiled softly at his acceptance of the comfort you offered.

“No, but I can’t eat right now.” Frankie grumbled. The intensity of the anger, the shock, the fear, it all gave way to a mind-numbing exhaustion and he just wanted to sleep. You sighed but didn’t push him. “M’tired.”

“Alright, c’mon. Let’s get you to bed.” You heaved yourself from the couch and offered Frankie a hand to pull him along with you. He grumbled quietly to himself as you ushered him up the stairs, the both of you mindful of the sleeping baby. Frankie flipped the baby monitor on and took a moment to observe the grainy image of his little girl, fast asleep and entirely unaware that their lives had just changed drastically.

“She deserves better than a broken family.” Frankie whispered, the image of defeat as he sat heavily on the edge of his bed. There was nothing for you to say in that moment, nothing that would ease his burden or change his mind. So instead of speaking, you just sat next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulled him into your side and rubbed his back in slow strokes. Just when you thought he might be calm enough to lay down and get some sleep, Frankie went stiff against you and groaned. “Fuck, I have work tomorrow!”

He was up and pacing a hole in the floor before you could even blink, grumbling out a quiet rant about the insanity of his situation. It seemed like he was a step away from spiraling out completely - and you knew just how to prevent that. Francisco Morales was a military man through and through; give him clear instructions and he’ll tackle a task with all he’s got. All he needed was for someone to help him see past the panic to the next step.

“Frankie, stop.” You stepped in his way and put both of your hands on his shoulders firmly, only continuing when he finally looked you in your eyes. “Call the office now and leave a message for them to cancel your tours for the next couple of days so you can get your head on straight. It’s a family emergency. They’ll understand. And after you call them, you need to lay down and at least rest your body, because Isabella will need to be fed in a few hours and you need to get some sleep while you can. I’m staying the night -”

“Wait, what? No, you don’t have to -” Frankie interrupted but was met with your finger at his lips, almost cracking up when he pouted against it.

“I don’t have to, you’re right. But my best friend needs my help and the little girl that I adore deserves to have a dad who isn’t ripping his hair out from stress. If the tables were turned and I was the one in this position, would you let me convince you to leave?” You took your hand away from his face when you shook his head ‘no’ and you gave him a small smile. “Exactly. So, I’m staying the night and I’ll be here to help wherever you need for as long as you need me. Okay?”

Frankie nodded. After that, it was easy to get him burrowed under his covers. His eyes drooped the second he was settled, and with a final brush of his hair off of his forehead, you turned to head back downstairs and set up a makeshift bed on the couch. A hand shot out from under the blankets to latch onto your wrist and Frankie sounded almost child-like when he whispered, “Please stay.”

And who were you to deny such a sweet plea? You curled up on the opposite side of the bed, exhaustion finally dragging you under after the day’s insanity. Two hours later when a shrill cry had you both sitting bolt upright, you threw back the covers and slid out of the warmth of Frankie’s bed right along with him.

“You go make her a bottle and I’ll check her diaper, alright? You asked around a yawn, already shuffling off to the nursery. Frankie made a tired noise of agreement and went downstairs, leaving you to scoop up his crying infant from her crib. “Hi, Bella. Let’s get you changed, yeah? Does that sound good?”

Once she had a clean diaper, you carefully carried her down the stairs and into the kitchen where her father was warming up a bottle. He smiled at the both of you as you approached and reached out to rub his daughter’s back where she lay against you, chest-to-chest. You could see the doubts worming their way back to the forefront of his mind by the way his smile faltered, and you put Isabella into his capable hands.

“We’ve got this, Frankie. One day at a time.” You murmured to him before leaning down to coo at Isabella, grinning when she gave you a gummy smile. “Yeah, your daddy has you. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

And as you looked at the matching pairs of chocolate eyes sparkling at you in the low light of the kitchen, you could feel in your gut that you were right.

----------------------------

After three weeks of staying at Frankie’s house nearly every night, the two of you had a schedule down packed and after two entire months, Frankie realized you were right. It sure as hell wasn’t easy - far from it, in fact - but everyone had stepped up just like you said. You would care for Isabella when Frankie was at work more often than not with Will and Pope picking up responsibility here and there where they could. The true savior here was you. You woke with Frankie in the morning, held his daughter up so he could kiss her forehead before he left for work, cared for her until he came home, and still stuck around to help after.

You were a fucking goddess, and Frankie knew he would be lost without you.

Each day that passed had Frankie’s anger dissipating just a bit more. With his focus solely on establishing a new normal for his daughter, there wasn’t really time for him to think about just how screwed over he got. He was fooling himself into thinking that the storm of emotions that thundered in his chest didn’t need to be handled. Logically, he knew that. The clouds would crack and it would all pour from him eventually, he just didn’t know when.

The boiling point hit on a Saturday. A beautiful day by all other standards; the sun was bright in the cloudless sky, leaving the air shimmering with warmth. The plan was to take a walk to the park with Isabella before meeting the guys for lunch, even though she wasn’t really big enough to enjoy the jungle gyms. In reality, Frankie just wanted to spend some time with his two favorite girls out in the sun. You had Isabella on the couch, getting her dressed after changing her diaper and rambling at her all the while.

Frankie loved the way you talked to his daughter, as if she was entirely invested in whatever mundane story from work you were recounting, taking her gurgles and the spit bubbles she blew as excited responses. The stack of mail in his hand momentarily forgotten, he leaned over the back of the couch with a small laugh.

“Ya know, I don’t think she understands the intricacies of office politics.” He teased, his grin growing when you tossed him a glare that had no heat behind it.

“And I don’t think she understands the intricacies of piloting helicopters, but you don’t hear me making fun of you when you ramble on about rotors at three in the morning.” You grumbled. The smile on your face betrayed any attempt to sound annoyed.

Frankie barked out a laugh. “Touche.”

With Isabella dressed and ready to rumble, Frankie intended to give the mail in his hands a once-over before heading out the door - until a large, yellow envelope with the state’s stamp inked in the corner caught his eye. What the hell did he do to have the state government contacting him? He racked his mind as he tore the envelope open, trying to think of any recent wrongdoings that could’ve gotten him into some legal mess. Maybe that red light last month actually caught his license plate last month. God, this was the last thing he needed right now with everything else he had going on, and -

The five words stamped across the top of the papers made his heart lurch in his chest. ‘Voluntary Relinquishment of Parental Rights’, right there in bold lettering. Eliza’s signature was scrawled at the bottom along with a notary’s. He expected sadness, even tears, but no.

No, Frankie was fucking enraged.

White hot anger surged, leaving his teeth gritted and the papers crumpled slightly in his clenched fist. It had been years since he felt that kind of rage, somehow even worse than the anger he felt during the absolute shitshow that was the mission in South America. A shuddered breath escaped from behind his teeth as he desperately tried to grasp the urge to throw the papers to the ground, along with anything else within his reach.

“Frankie?” The sound of your voice calling out to him sweetly, laced with concern and confusion, somehow only made that rage spike. The fact that you had put your entire life on hold to help him care for his child, the child Eliza swore up and down that she wanted with him before disappearing on them both, had him infuriated on your behalf as well as his own. Just how many lives was Eliza going to change forever with no remorse? Frankie tossed the entire pile of mail on the couch and stormed off to the kitchen, not wanting you or Isabella to see him in such a state.

He had no idea how long he stood braced against the kitchen counter with his eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to find a way to tamp down on the intensity rolling through him. There was a quiet conversation coming from the living room, two voices too low for him to make out, and there was suddenly a hand on his own. Frankie finally opened his eyes to see you standing next to him, giving him a soft look that disarmed him and made him feel guilty all at once.

You shouldn’t have to be here. You shouldn’t have to deal with the bullshit that always seemed to follow Frankie around every fucking corner. You were too good for his troubles, you deserved better. Frankie hated that he had brought you down this hole with him.

“Where’s Isabella?” Frankie croaked out.

“I called Will, he’s got her in the living room.” You said, your voice just as soft as the expression on your face, and Frankie wanted nothing more than to bury his face in your neck and cry or smash something on the ground just for the satisfaction of seeing it break. The confliction of his wants only made him angrier. “I saw the papers. What do you need?”

“What do I need?” Frankie repeated with a humorless chuckle before hitting the countertop with a clenched fist, just hard enough to make pain shoot up his arm - and the dam broke. “Anything! Anything but a life where the mother of my child doesn’t abandon us at the drop of a fucking hat!”

The coffee mug that sat next to the coffeemaker was the unfortunate victim his impulses chose to meet the sudden, desperate need to get this rage out of his body. His arm reared back, ready to smash the ceramic mug right onto the tile, but the firm grab of two hands kept the lucky cup in one piece. You grabbed his forearm with one hand and wrapped the other over his, securing the mug in his grip as you stepped into his space and settled him with a firm look.

“No, not here. Not like this, not with Isabella so close by.” Shame lanced through Frankie viciously. You were right, as always. How fucking stupid was he to think - “Let’s go.”

“What?” was all he could mutter as you set down the mug and began pulling him towards the front door.

“You’ve got Isabella, right?” You asked Will when you paused to fish your keys from the table next to his door, only continuing in your march towards your car when Will confirmed. Frankie’s guilt-ridden confusion only grew as you pulled out of his driveway after ushering him into your passenger seat. “You need to deal with this in a healthy way. Because god knows you have every reason to be downright enraged. Hell, I even wanted to throw shit around for a while.”

Frankie could only stare at you, his anger and frustration simmering lower the more you spoke. There was a light in your eyes that he recognized, the same one that you had last year when he had to comfort you through the downfall and heartache of your last relationship. It was anger and sadness all wrapped up into an intense shine he recognized all too well.

“But we are going to do these the smart way.” You continued and met his eyes as you pulled up to idle at a red light. There was… something there beneath the empathy, something hovering at the edges of your expression that he just couldn’t place. “Because you are my best friend and I love you and your daughter way too much to let you destroy yourself.”

Heat flushed up his neck at the candidness of your words. Oh, god, he could not let that tiny, hopeful part of his brain latch onto that at run with it. No, it would reignite too many old feelings and needs to let himself hope. Of course you loved him and his child - you were his best friend after all. There was no point in letting himself even consider it beyond that. Not when he could destroy everything good he had left in his life.

Frankie just nodded, trusting in whatever you had in mind. Less than five minutes later, you pulled into the town’s recreational fields and it clicked in his brain. The batting cages. He smiled slightly despite his inner turmoil. This was exactly where he had taken you when you finally got over the shock of your ex-boyfriend’s betrayal and stepped right into an unfathomable rage.

He let you put the ridiculous helmet on his head and gratefully took the aluminum baseball bat from your hands once you got to the small fenced area where he could finally let out his anger. The quarters clinked as you slid them into the slot and you smiled at him from behind the fence.

“You might feel stupid at first, but it helps.” You called out over the whirring of the pitching machine powering up and Frankie laughed. He had told you the exact same thing, verbatim when you had complained that the whole idea was ridiculous.

The harsh crack of the bat meeting that first baseball was like taking a sledgehammer to the wall he had built around his anger. The next one had him grunting into the effort he put behind the swing of the bat, letting every bit of his rage and resentment sing in his veins and bleed into the impact against the ball. Each swing had him building up, had tension racking his back and shoulders only to be released with the ringing sound of aluminum and revived the moment his arms fell to his sides.

“I just...I can’t fucking comprehend it! First, she was so excited. Went on and on about having the whole thing. ” He called out through each swing, knowing you were there behind him, hanging off of the fence to watch and listen. “The house and the kids and the - the fucking white picket fence life. All of it! And then she wanted all of that, but not with me. No, she’d co-parent and find some other man to shack up with because apparently I wasn’t enough for her. Yeah, it hurt and all but at least she was still around! And out of nowhere, she just fucking left! It’s bullshit!”

The aluminum echoed harshly where Frankie threw it to the ground, his hands ripping his hat off to muse his hair roughly before settling back on his head. Every ball hit was like a point knocked off of his frustration. It wasn’t exactly fun, but it felt good.

“Another round?” You asked and Frankie turned to see you with more quarters poised and ready to send more baseballs flying at his head. He nodded, more grateful for you than ever in that moment.

“But at the same time, I am so glad she left when she did. It’s so conflicting because I’m pissed that she put us through that but at least it’s over!” Frankie continued, the pressure finally easing in his chest as he said the things that were building in his mind the last two months. “She jerked me around for so fucking long. At least I don’t have to worry that she’ll change her mind again. At least I can… move on, move forward in my life.”

He didn’t even have to ask you for another round when the last ball had been pitched. This time, he said nothing. Neither did you. Frankie just needed to vent, to be heard. He didn’t need advice or pity or words of encouragement. Well, the encouragement he would need later. The rest would just make him even more angry. Every crack of the bat meeting a ball had the anger receding and exhaustion creeping up to take its place. There was a special kind of relief in the absence of anger - it didn’t exactly feel good, but it wasn’t bad either. Almost numbing.

The bat clattered to the ground after the last ball was sent rocketing into the netting. Frankie was done, for now at least. It would come creeping back in, he knew, but he also knew he could handle it. He felt like he could handle anything with you by his side, with your support and… and your love. It was nice to be taken care of for once. You took the bat back to the office as he plopped himself down at a picnic table and a few moments later, a cool water bottle, dripping with condensation was pressed against the back of his neck. It was soothing against his skin, overheated by the harsh sun.

The two of you sat together at that table for nearly an hour, not having to speak to convey how either of you felt in that moment. Frankie was beyond grateful, and he could tell you were happy he was feeling better just by the way you rubbed a hand between his shoulder blades. He almost lamented at the loss of your touch when you pulled that hand away, only to have you settle it on his just like you did back in the kitchen.

You were always there, always managed to make him feel better. Even when his life was crumbling around him, there was solace to be found in you. In your words, your touch. You never made him feel ashamed when he exposed his sadness or his anger, never made him feel less than. It was impossible for that small flame not to flicker back to life deep in his heart. The spark of hope for the future, especially if you were in it.

“Thank you.” Frankie choked out, unable to express himself any more than that. It didn’t matter, he knew that. You knew how much this little foray into stress relief helped him.

“Always, Frankie.”

Later that night when all was quiet in his home, when the Miller brothers and Pope had left and Isabella was safely asleep in her crib, Frankie was still exhausted. The boys had come over instead of dragging him out to a restaurant and it was a blast, as always, but he couldn’t help the heavy way his shoulders were set for the rest of the day. He just wanted to sleep.

The last thing he expected was the tears. An overwhelming feeling of being entirely unwanted washed over him and he was too damn tired to fight it off, so he sat himself on the edge of the bed and cried. No matter how logical he was with himself, no matter how much he reminded himself that he was well loved despite Eliza, the feeling just would not shake.

Embarrassment layered on top of the sadness when you popped your head into his bedroom, hair still wet from the shower you just took. Frankie wiped the tears away with rough fingers as he turned away from you, giving an entirely fake laugh in a vain attempt to brush it off. He should’ve known better. You padded right up to him and gently cupped his cheek to guide him to look back up at you, and the understanding smile you gave him paired to the gentle brush of your thumb under his eye to wipe a stray tear away had his chin trembling against his will.

“C’mon,” You whispered. Frankie watched you clamber onto his bed through tear-blurred eyes and settle against his pillows, your arms open in an invitation for comfort that he took without a second thought. Frankie laid his head on your chest, wrapped one arm around your waist, and closed his eyes before he could talk himself out of it. This was dangerous ground, letting himself take comfort in you this way. You brushed your hand through his hair, sighing softly as you relaxed. “We’ve got this. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Frankie’s voice was slurred slightly with his sleepiness, the craziness of the day finally pulling him under. “Yeah, we do.”

---------------------

At eight months old, Isabella was growing into a vibrant, happy little girl and you couldn’t be more proud. You hadn’t expected to play such a large role in her life, but now you couldn’t imagine doing anything else. According to her pediatrician, little Bella was as healthy as a horse and blossoming. ‘A textbook case of healthy development’ was what she had said at the last checkup, leaving you and Frankie to grin at each other. The first appointment after Eliza left was nerve racking with Frankie bouncing anxiously the entire time until Dr.Weston gave them the exact same response - Frankie’s daughter was right on track.

The relief on his face had broken your heart. How could that man ever think he wasn’t doing right by his little girl? You saw him with her every single day. You saw the way he babbled along with her while spooning baby food into her mouth. You watched him lie on his belly with her in the living room during tummy-time, trying to help her strengthen her neck. You woke up to him stripping the blankets off of the bed when she couldn’t fall asleep anywhere but his arms and wanted her in bed with you both. If there was anyone who could attest that Francisco Morales was an amazing father, it was you.

And you made sure to tell him that, as often as you could. It made the most delicious flush creep up his neck and paired with that bashful smile he tried to hide by pulling the brim of his hat further down, you could barely keep yourself from kissing him. Guilt ate you alive every single time you had those urges. Frankie was thriving after such an awful ordeal, and there you were, lusting after him like some over-excitable teenager.

It was impossible not to feel so... domestic in your current set up. You slept at Frankie’s so often that your own home felt almost foreign when you would show up for more clothes or to grab something for work. You worked from his kitchen table or couch, tapping away at your laptop as Isabella slept or played on her playmat in front of you. The instinct to refer to Frankie’s house as ‘home’ and the way you saw the three of you as a little family was new and something you had to nip in the bud right away.

That type of thinking would inevitably end in heartbreak when Frankie sent you on your way once he didn’t need as much help with Isabella. At least you knew it wouldn’t be anytime soon and could enjoy it while it lasted, especially since the home was currently plagued with a two word nightmare neither of you expected.

Sleep. Regression.

You sat in the glider with Isabella slumped against your chest, her cute little face pressed against your sternum as you rocked sleepily. Her eyelids fluttered every now and then, but there was yet to be a moment you could settle her into her bed. Frankie had tried before you, but even daddy’s arms weren’t good enough for the fussy baby. He was rooting around downstairs, searching for a little stuffed hippo that sometimes helped her calm down, but at that point, you were willing to just sleep right there in her nursery.

The door cracked open slowly and you peeked one eye open to see Frankie shake his head slightly as he walked in. You held back a sigh. That damned stuffed hippo was going to be the death of all three of you, apparently. Frankie made an urgent noise and your eyes flew open, your eyebrows pinching together in confusion. With a baby constantly on the verge of either falling asleep or waking up, the two of you learned to communicate without words, instead using pointed looks and hand gestures to get a point across.

Frankie gave a pointed look Isabella and you tilted your head down to get a good look at her, and good god you could barely believe your luck. A very long, drawn out transfer from your chest to her crib later, and you and Frankie were creeping out of the nursery, careful to avoid the creaky sections of the hallway. The second the door was closed, you held up a hand for a quiet high five with the goofiest grin on your face, and Frankie obliged with a chuckle.

You practically threw yourself onto the bed you were starting to consider your own, yet another dangerous road, you knew that much. The stubbornness both you and Frankie held strong to had neither of you willing to let the other take the couch, insisting that ‘no, you need good sleep.’ and ‘well, you do, too!’. Each night you spent curled up next to him and waking up a hairsbreadth from each other had you positively yearning.

It was nearly three in the morning and both of you had work in a few hours. The idea filled you with dread, and that was how you found yourself whispering to Frankie that you were calling out because ‘exhaustion is the best reason to use a sick day’. He cracked up at your antics as he crawled in next to you, but the look he gave you once he was settled in… it made your heart flutter in your chest. It was an exhausted, relieved, and grateful expression all rolled into one and in that moment, you felt like you could look at him forever.

You didn’t get the chance to. Frankie slid his arm under your shoulders and pulled you against him. It was too familiar of an embrace for you to shy away, even though you knew you should. You should’ve stayed on your side of the bed with plenty of space between you if you wanted to avoid heartbreak, but instead, you snuggled close to him and set your head right on his chest. You could let yourself indulge in the fantasy that he was yours for just a bit longer, especially if it meant getting this unforgettable experience of curling up with the man you adored.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you closer to the abyss of sleep, until his chest rumbled as he spoke, making you blink up at him.

“Thank you, cariño.” Frankie settled his hand against your head, playing gently with your hair.

“Always, Frankie.” You whispered back, a smile on your face even as you slipped into the most peaceful rest you had in years.

-----------------------

The house was full of people. For the first time in months, Frankie threw a cookout. It was something you had missed dearly, inviting everyone over for food and beers and a bonfire if the mood was right. Isabella was beyond happy to see everyone she loved all at once, the nine month old squealing with delight at each person who scooped her up from her bouncer. You watched carefully, always ready to swoop in if needed while Frankie ran in and out of the house between the kitchen, grill, and living room.

You had been worried it might be too much for him, the pressure of so much socializing after such a hard time, but he was all grins and twinkling eyes as he ran about. It warmed your heart to see that happiness radiating off of him. God, had you missed it. Things were finally looking up and it felt as if you had let go of a breath that was held in for far too long.

Almost everyone was out in the backyard, soaking up the last of summer before fall got her chilly grip on the world, with you and a few others inside chatting. Isabella had just woken up and boy was she ready to go. Those chubby little legs flailed as you wrestled her into a clean diaper and back into her pretty pink dress. You leaned back with a small laugh once she was finally dressed, letting her have the free reign to roll over onto her belly.

You glanced up at Will where he sat on the couch a few feet away taking a break from all the chitchat, and he grinned at you, muttering something about her being just like her father. You couldn’t agree more. You went to pick her up and carry her outside where she could get some sun and squeal at more guests, but your hand met the carpet instead. Isabella grinned at you less than a foot away, propped up on all fours as she scrambled away so quickly you worried she would get rug burn before you realized - holy shit, she’s crawling.

“Go get Frankie!” You said to Will, who was staring at Isabella with a proud grin. He jumped to his feet, ever the good soldier taking commands, and you scooped the giggling little girl into your arms. “Look at you go! Oh, I’m so proud of you, sweet girl!”

A frazzled Frankie skidded around the corner out of nowhere, half of the crowd piling in behind him in worry, and internally you cursed Will for not informing him that nothing was wrong. Before Frankie could even ask, you motioned for him to sit down a few feet from you and he listened despite the deeply confused look he wore.

“Are you gonna show daddy your new trick, Bella? Huh? Go on,” You cooed as you set her back down on her hands and knees, and she took off like a bat outta hell, scrambling for her father, who watched with wide eyes. Frankie broke off into a loud laugh and picked her up to cradle her against his chest, his eyes bright with unshed, happy tears as the crowd of friends and family let out whoops and claps.

“Oh my god!” Frankie laughed wetly, shuffling forward on his knees to pull you in for a hug with his little girl in between you. Your cheeks hurt with the huge smile you wore as you wrapped your arms around him. The way he looked at you tore through your chest with the most pleasurable kind of pain and the urge to kiss him would have been undeniable if not for the friends that surrounded you. So you cleared your throat and leaned back, pushing his bicep gently.

“You better get back to that grill before everyone in here starves to death.” You tease and leave it at that, gathering Isabella in your arms to take her outside. What you didn’t see was Pope grabbing Frankie and dragging him up the stairs before he could make it outside along with you. You flounced about the backyard, the hem of your sundress fluttering at your knees as you let everyone get a chance to coo at the happy girl in your arms.

Everyone was so happy, all smiles and laughs as they caught up with each other about the various going-ons of their lives, and you wanted to capture it so you could look back on the happy memories.

“Hey, I left my phone upstairs. Do you mind if I leave her with you? I should be right back.” You asked Pope’s girlfriend, Jessa, who eagerly accepted the baby time.

You climbed the stairs easily, humming some silly tune as you pushed open Frankie’s door. With your phone fully charged, you popped it off of the charger and sat on the edge of the bed to check your notifications. There were few messages here and there, mostly from people letting you know they were on their way a few hours ago, so you were content to make your way back outside with the sound of voices caught your attention. It was a low, metallic sounding conversation, but the TV was off, leaving only…

On the screen of the baby monitor were Frankie and Pope, both of them standing with their arms crossed tightly over their chests. If you didn’t know better you would have been worried they were about to fight with the way they glared at each other, but whatever it was wasn’t any of your business. You were going to leave but the sound of your name made you pause. Eavesdropping is wrong, you reminded yourself, even if you were painfully curious, and you made for the door once more until you heard Pope said, “You have to tell her, Fish!” and you froze entirely.

“That woman loves you! She loves your little girl. You’re going to lose out on a good thing if you keep going like this, man!” Pope hissed and for a second, all you could hear was your own heartbeat. He couldn’t mean what you hoped he meant… right?

“I can’t! Isabella is already down one parent, and that… that amazing woman stepped in and saved us both. What kind of a father would I be if I risked my daughter losing a good woman? And for what? Because I'm in love? Absolutely not.” Frankie said in a tone you had never heard from him before. It was harsh, ringing with finality, and it absolutely tore your heart in two.

But the halves of your heart were made whole by the single sentence, ‘Because I’m in love’. Frankie loved you. He said it. You heard it with your own two ears and suddenly those fears of yours felt absolutely ridiculous. That man and his daughter was your family, no two ways about it. And you couldn’t let him go on thinking that you didn’t love your little family more than anything in the world.

So you snuck back downstairs, your heart flying in your chest as you rejoined the little party and tried to act as normally as possible. In reality, you were paying more attention to the back door than anyone who tried to talk to you, giving little ‘mhmm’s instead of answering the questions anyone asked you.

Yeah, you could be entirely oblivious sometimes.

The second Pope and Frankie emerged from the back door you were on the move, excusing yourself from the conversation you hadn’t really been a part of anyway. The confused look Frankie gave you when you asked to talk to him inside was being adorable, his eyebrows scrunched together and head tilted to the side just slightly. He followed you in nonetheless, leaning against the kitchen counter as he popped open a sweating beer. Before he can even ask what’s going on, you step into his space and put your hands on his chest gently, watching as his confusion melts into surprise.

“You are never going to lose me.” You whisper. “Neither of you.”

A blush bloomed up his neck and over his cheeks. “You...you heard that?”

“Didn’t mean to, scouts honor.” You smiled at him, trying to imbue him with the ease and absolute happiness you felt. “The baby monitor was on.”

“Oh.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the simple response and press up on your tiptoes, your hands sliding up to drape over his shoulders so you could play with the curls at the nape of his neck. The breathy sound that escaped Frankie’s chest had your need mounting, desperate to feel his lips on yours, and you lean forward to brush your nose along his. “Say it, Frankie.”

“I love you.” He said it immediately, whispered it into you with a grin so bright it lit up the room with his happiness. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” You barely get it out before he leans forward to kiss you, soft and desperate and happy, all at once. Frankie’s hands fell to your hips and pulled your body flush against his, and it made you to grin against his lips.

You were giddy. That was the only way to describe the excitement that left you almost vibrating with energy as you melted against Frankie’s chest. His lips were sweet, touched by the strawberries and grapes he snacked on as he grilled.

“You love me, huh?” He muttered and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed with a goofy smile that made your heart lurch in your chest.

“Always, Frankie.”

#frankie morales x reader #frankie 'catfish' morales x reader #frankie 'catfish' morales #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales x you #frankie 'catfish' morales x y/n #frankie 'catfish' morales x you #francisco morales #Triple Frontier #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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soulmate-game · 4 years

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Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 5: Overprotection

Disclaimer: Dick was adopted when he was 12 in this fic. Just for math’s sake.

—*—*—*—*—*

“What.”

Damian stared at his father, face carefully blank. Bruce grimaced, shifting.

“I said, you have a half sister. Biological.”

Four sets of eyes bored into him, from all of his sons. They were gathered not in the Batcave for once, but just one of the sitting rooms in the Manor.

“... and what, Father, does that have to do with the French class visiting Gotham?” Damian asked again, posture steadily growing stiffer and more and more stone like. He was trying hard to suppress emotions, but not even he was quite sure what those emotions were yet. Anger? Fear? Resentment? Probably. He might have detected some excitement there too, deep, deep down. Bruce took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for this.

“Well. I’ve kept up with her life, but last time I checked she had no idea that she was adopted. When her birth mother died, it was right around the time I adopted Dick. She was still an infant, and I knew I was not equipped to handle taking care of a baby—“

“Father,” Damian interrupted again. “You sent her off. Have her up for adoption,” he said slowly, as if realizing that that would have been his fate had his father known about his existence earlier, as well. It was almost ironic, considering how Bruce seemed to have a problem with adopting other children nowadays. Bruce nodded.

“She was adopted by a couple in France. Paris, to be exact. I’ve kept up to date, asking them to just send me a letter or email once or twice a year about the general stuff she’s been up to. Nothing too invasive. A few pictures. And last time I asked them, they said that she had no idea about being adopted or that I was her father,” Bruce sighed again, running a hand over his face. “But I think she does.”

“Why?” Jason asked, confused as everyone else to the change in subject. Except Tim and Damian, who seemed to be quickly connecting the dots.

“Oh boy,” Tim breathed. Bruce just nodded.

“Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She is the one who organized the trip for her class to come here, to Gotham. She is the one who entered and won our international internship competition, and turned that into an excuse to get her entire class to come here for two weeks. To get to know the place she will be living for her internship next year, after she graduates Lycee, France’s version of highschool essentially.”

Tim winced. He had been in charge of the internship competition, and Bruce had given him free reign. He had chosen the winner without even thinking to run it by his adoptive father.

“Bruce—“ Tim tried, but the man just held up a hand.

“I don’t blame you. I haven’t been paying too much attention to her life, and I didn’t expect her to do something like this. But we know now that, if she does know and this isn’t a giant coincidence,”

“Unlikely,” Dick agreed, wincing. “Possible, but unlikely.”

Bruce huffed in agreement. “Then, we know she is very resourceful, determined, and has skills that impressed Tim enough to choose her out of tens of thousands of contest participants worldwide.”

“The minimum requirement for a Wayne,” Damian finally managed to bite out, still coping with this proverbial slap in the face but doing his best to handle it. He was seventeen damn it, and had come a long way from who he used to be. He could handle this. He could. He would.

Bruce rolled his eyes, and then leaned forward with his hands braced on the table. “Okay. So now we need to make plans.”

“Plans?” Jason asked, frowning. “For how you’re gonna tell her without getting your faces plastered over every tabloid in the city right?”

“No,” the older man shook his head. “Plans to keep her alive, unharmed, and unaffiliated with us until she leaves. I will not be making any public appearances unless absolutely necessary, so trips to the Tower are out of the question—“

“Are you…” Jason’s eyes were wide. “Trying to keep her out of our Shitshow? Because yeah, kudos to you even if it took you way too long to learn, but if she went through all this trouble to come here then it's probably too late.”

Dick nodded. “If she’s anything like you and Damian, there’s no way she’ll back off easy. Avoiding her will only make it worse on you, and probably the rest of us too.”

Damian stared straight into his father's eyes, glare sharp and searching. “What is this about, Father? You have not worried this much about any of us—“

“Because none of you were as naive!” He barked, quickly catching himself and taking a breath. “You all had a way you could benefit from this life. A way I could help you. But Marinette has both of the parents she has known her whole life, they treat her wonderfully. They care. She’s never had to worry about constantly moving, or fighting, or going hungry. The only deaths she has ever experienced have been from afar and due to natural causes. She designs as a hobby and has no problem with socializing or handling emotions in a healthy way— introducing her to our life holds no benefit for her. The only thing it can give her is unnecessary danger and risk and secrets.”

“Yeah, well. I guess Batman doesn’t know everything, does he?” A new voice startled them all from the doorway, making everyone's head whip over to see who had managed the near-impossible and snuck up on all of them.

Standing there, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, was a short part-Asian woman in her late teens. Her midnight black hair was cascading down her back in one thick braid, tied off at the end with an indigo ribbon. Her eyes were a piercing cobalt blue, matching those of Bruce perfectly. Her jaw was clenched, and the infamous Bat-glare coming from her was directed right at the person who made the expression infamous in the first place.

“Marinette,” Bruce breathed, shoulders squaring. “Your plane isn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.”

“It won’t,” she agreed. “I took a portal here. You see, my extensive research into Batman’s known habits and tactics, which I started after I figured out about your alter ego last year, informed me that you tend to go to the extremes to protect people you deem incapable of protecting themselves, and are also prone to idiotic self-sacrificing behavior in the form of purposely making yourself look like an ass.”

Jason chuckled. “She’s got you down to a T, B,” he quipped with a grin despite the caution still in his eyes. “But let’s back up a bit, little Spitfire. What’s this about a portal?”

Marinette pushed off the doorframe, walking closer to the scattered group. Tim and Jason were spread across one sofa, Damian on the other with Dick, and Bruce was occupying an armchair. Marinette just walked until she stood where she could easily be seen by everyone, but also had nobody at her back.

“The portal is part of a bigger story. Like, the fact that father dearest wanted to protect me so badly that he placed the JLE in Paris, but didn’t realize that relations with that branch were so bad that the JLE never informed him or the JLA about getting kicked out of France and reassigning themselves to Italy. Bruce never kept a close enough eye on the city, because he wanted to keep emotional distance, and therefore was completely blind to when a supervillain showed up and terrorized Paris for almost five years,” she continued, her glare never leaving Bruce’s face.

“I found out about being adopted when I was eight. I found out who my biological father was when I was thirteen. Last year, I finally put in the work to connect Bruce Wayne to Batman. And yeah, I never told Maman and Papan, because they have never completely understood me. They wouldn’t have understood that I was fine with having no contact with you, back then. That my snooping had nothing to do with being unhappy with them as my parents. They would have immediately assumed they were inadequate when I am merely curious by nature. But then I ended up being chosen to be one of the child heroes that fought said domestic terrorist that showed up five years ago. And I sure as hell couldn't tell them that a magical artifact showed up on my desk one day and that the god inhabiting it told me to fight the monsters the villain made and just, just go with it. I couldn’t tell them when I went from being one of two Parisian heroes to being the leader of a team. I couldn’t tell them when my elderly mentor, unable to fight by our side but who had at least provided emotional support and knowledge, passed away and gave me his title and responsibilities. I’m sick and tired of being protected, Monsieur Wayne,” Marinette didn’t seem to notice the tears that had begun to fall.

“I’m sick of it. I know you were trying to keep me safe, but I fought a war I wasn’t prepared for. I died, thousands of times. But my own powers and the powers I have my partners brought me back to life. Over and over. I don’t need protection, damn it. I don’t need you to distance yourself, because you're the only fucking person I can call a parent who might understand,” she held out a hand, her scowl turning into a gentle smile. “I have so much I need to talk about. Before I drown under all these secrets. Please. I’ll go back through another portal before my parents notice I’m gone, but I’ll be back in town tomorrow when my plane lands. Just. Please, don’t push me away. That’s all I ask. I want to get to know you, all of you. I… I need family who understands.”

“Thousands.” Bruce repeated, all of them still recovering from Marinette’s very sudden, info-dumping speech. “You died… thousands of times?”

Marinette laughed, but it was a sad sound. No mirth there. “I gave my friend a magical artifact that reverses time, and the artifact that gives me my own powers can reverse any damage from a fight I use it in. Even death. Sending untrained teenagers to fight a villain three times their age makes some kind of failsafe like that kind of necessary.”

“Fuck,” Jason cursed under his breath. “Well. You’re welcome to join the living Zombie club,” he offered. The girl snorted, giving him a watery grin in thanks.

“I’m sure you know about my stance on powers and metas,” Bruce decided to say, wincing immediately after. That wasn’t what he meant to say. At all. He earned another brief glare for it.

“I’m not a meta, and I only have powers when I use the artifact to transform, thereby borrowing powers from the miniature god that the artifact houses. Think of it like doctor fate, but my gods are actually not parasites and my powers are much more… specialized. I had to learn combat on my own, and I was able to train in my sleep with the past users of this artifact. That includes people like Fa Mulan, Joan of Arc, and someone you actually know— Hippolyta. I’ve mastered more fighting styles by now than I care to remember, and I’ve done gymnastics since I was three. I don’t know if my parents told you that in their letters. I even won the gold in the nationwide France gymnastics competition two years ago. I assure you, I don’t rely on my powers nearly as much as you might think.”

Bruce swallowed. “I can… greet you when your class arrives.”

Marinette grinned. “Well, that’s a start.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Idk what happened, I don’t know if I like this at all but oh well. I’m posting it anyway. Maybe one of you will like it. I… couldn’t really find any other way to do this so oh well. Also, I think Mulan was a past Dragon..? But I put her as a Ladybug because I Can.

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl @iamablinkmarvelarmy @meme991001

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic brucinette #day 5 #not my fave at all

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a-bang-for-your-bucky · 3 years

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Welcome Home (Part One)

(NOT MY GIF)

Summary: After not speaking to her brothers for over a year, Peyton Rhodes’ life is turned upside down when her boyfriend of four years cheats on her. She uproots her life with WWE and returns home to Atlanta. She finds herself among great friends and she is finding herself again after being lost for so long.

WORD COUNT: 2,624 (well shit).

Pairings: Cody Rhodes x OFC (Sister), Brandi Rhodes x OFC (sister), Dustin Rhodes x OFC (Sister), past Seth Rollins x OFC, future Kenny Omega x OFC (maybe?), MJFx OFC( maybe?) Could end up being Matt Jackson x OFC (who knows) let the writing gods surprise us.

WARNINGS: explicit language, mentioned cheating, possible future smut (Warnings are subject to change as I continue writing and will be updated as needed).

A/N: This has been a WIP for over a year now. This will be multiple parts. It will be a slow burn. (MAYBE) I’m a sucker for the friends to lovers trope. Please do not think that this reflects my feels toward a certain wrestler (Seth). This story is strictly fiction. I do not own any of the characters except for my OFC(s). Please, please, please, give me feedback. I’m slowly working myself back into the fanfic world. <3

“Cody was right.” I cried as soon as my brother’s wife answered the phone. I hadn’t spoken to my brothers since they left WWE. Cody was upset that I wouldn’t leave with him. Brandi was my way of communication with them. She’d call at least twice a week. This week was different.

“I caught him. I went to congratulate him after his win over Finn and they were,” I sniffled, hurt coming over me again. “It was Mandy. I thought she was my friend.” I explained to my sister in law.

“Pey, I am so sorry. Please come home. You know AEW has a spot for you whenever you want it.” Brandi offered. It was the same thing she said to me every week, but now I’m ready.

“I just don’t know why.” I cried. “I was the perfect girlfriend. I basically put my career on hold for him. I thought he was, I thought he was it for me.” Brandi had said that they were going to be home for Cody’s birthday in a few weeks and invited me to come to the party.

“I’ll talk to Hunter.” I choked out.

Luckily, my contract was almost up and as soon as Vince heard I didn’t want to re-sign, he settled for my release. We didn’t have the best relationship, but Hunter advocated for me stating that it was best for the company as well as myself. He knew the situation and didn’t blame me for wanting to go.

I knew I had to go back one day. I just never thought it would be this soon. I parked my car in the drive. I could hear Pharaoh announcing my arrival before I could make it to the door. I made my way up the sidewalk to the porch. I took a deep breath and knocked.

Brandi opened the door immediately. “Well I'll be damned.” She said, “I can’t believe you came!” I smiled, embracing my brother’s wife.

“Like I would miss my big brother’s 35th birthday.” I lied and she knew it. If Seth hadn’t cheated on me, I wouldn’t be here.

Brandi led me inside where there were some guests who had gathered in the foyer. Brandi introduced me quickly, leading me through to Cody. “Hey, babe. Your surprise is here.” Cody, who was standing by the fireplace, talking to Dustin, turned and saw me.

Awkwardly, I raised a hand to wave. “Hi.” I whispered. Cody sat down his drink and walked over to me. I expected him to cuss and yell, but instead, he threw his arms around me, hugging me tightly.

“Peyton, I'm so happy you’re here.” He whispered. Dustin came up behind him.

“Long time, no see sis. You know, they invented this thing called a phone. You should look into it. Call your big brothers sometime.” Dustin fussed before hugging me too.

“It is really good to see you guys.” I tried to hold back the tears, but some escaped anyway. “How have you been? AEW has really taken off huh?” I said making small talk.

Cody nodded, “Yeah, I have the best business partners. I can’t wait for you to meet them.” Looking at my brother, he was truly happy. WWE had given him a few more stress lines, but seeing him now, you couldn’t tell.

He grabbed my hand, pulling me to follow him. He led me to Matt and Nick Jackson, standing with Kenny Omega and Adam Page. “Guys! Guys! Look who decided to show her face.” Cody beamed, smiling big. The four guys waved.

“Finally! We get to meet the prodigal sister.” Kenny Omega spoke first.

“Peyton, these are the guys.” Cody pointed to each of them. “Matt. Nick. Kenny. Adam.”

“Nice to meet y’all finally. I watch your show every week. You are all very talented.” They all mumbled a “thank you” in tandem.

The rest of the evening went by smoothly. We all sat and talked. Getting to know The Elite was amazing. It was almost as if I hadn’t been AWOL for a year and a half. When the party was over, I was helping Brandi clean up.

“Pey, you don’t have to help. You’re a guest.” She said, grabbing the glasses from my hands. I shook my head.

“I’m family. And family helps.” I smiled, taking the glasses back and continued to the kitchen. Cody walked in behind me with plates.

“Hey,” he started, “Thank you for coming.” He finished, placing the plates in the dishwasher. I added my glasses.

“I’m sorry.” I blurted out, turning to face him. Cody looked at me, confused. “I should have left with you. You were right about that place. My career, my relationship, everything, became a shitshow after you left.” tears began to fall.

“Pey, it’s okay. I’m just happy you’re here now.” Cody wiped the tears away.

“Code. I lost my title. Seth cheated on me, and I barely got any TV time.” Cody scoffed. He never liked Seth.

“He cheated on you?” Cody growled, and paced around the room.

I nodded, “I caught him. I went to congratulate him after his win one night and they were,” I sniffled, explaining to Cody. “I don’t know why.” I cried. “And then I lost my title, and then stopped getting TV time, unless I was on Seth’s arm.” I darted my eyes to the ground. “We still had to work together. After everything, I had to pretend like we were the perfect couple, until my last appearance.” Cody pulled me into a tight hug.

“I pissed a lot of people off with the way I left. I’m so sorry that affected you.” he whispered into my hair, like it was his fault.

“I don’t blame you, Code. I was granted my release.” I mumbled into his chest. He pulled back.

“What?” His eyes were wide.

“I asked for my release and Hunter pushed it through. I’ll be a free agent in 90 days” I explained. Cody smiled like a Cheshire cat.

“Babe! Dustin! Get in here!” Cody yelled, startling me. The both of them came running, looking for an emergency, but they only saw Cody pouring champagne for a toast. Confused looks covered their faces.

Cody gave everyone a flute and started a toast. “To our baby sister, the newest AEW superstar.” Brandi squealed and hugged me tight. The guys joined in.

I was finally home.

It was hard, walking away from my life in WWE; However, finding my place within the Elite was easy. Especially with Kenny Omega. He quickly became one of my closest friends. The next 3 months were the best of my life. The break from wrestling gave my body and my heart time to heal. Everyone did their best to hide that I was coming to AEW, even leaving fake trails that I was going back to NJPW.

After working out the details of my contract, I was officially signed with AEW. Cody wanted me to make a surprise entrance, interrupt one of his segments. Creative loved the idea of brother and sister reuniting, but they wanted to make it interesting. When my debut date came, I couldn’t have been any more nervous.

Sitting in catering, I was alone, lost in thought, picking at my food. It had been a long journey here, but they made it. AEW came to life and it was thriving. Double or nothing had passed, and that meant tonight was Dynamite.

“Guess who?” Someone had snuck up on me, covering my eyes. I smiled because I knew exactly who it was.

“Hmm, Prince Charming?” I guessed quickly. Kenny placed a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“Close, but better.” He said uncovering my eyes. “Hey, princess. Just thought I’d come save you from your thoughts. What’s going on in that head of yours right now?” he asked, knowing I’ll tell him, taking the seat next to me.

I sighed, rubbing my face. “I was thinking about my journey, how I got here.” Kenny nodded, but didn’t say anything. “I was thinking about how I get to see Jon again, since leaving WWE, and I was thinking about Seth.” I finally spit it out. Seth, his name leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

“I knew something was bothering you. Talk to me, doll.”

“I was scrolling through Insta earlier. He’s engaged. I know I shouldn’t care, but I do. Not because I still have feelings for him, but because she is, was, my friend, and I don’t want him to do to her what he did to me.” I explained to him.

“That’s understandable, Pey, but people gotta make their own mistakes. Mandy knows what he did to you and she still said yes, so that’s on her.” Kenny said, ever the voice of reason.

I nodded in agreement with him, knowing he was right. I needed to focus on my new path, my new future.

“Peyton!” Cody called from a distance, Brandi following him. It was time.

Cody stood, center ring, proudly. He had won the TNT title at Double or Nothing. He went on about how he was issuing an open challenge every Wednesday.

I stood nervously behind the curtain, waiting for my cue. I was about to make my debut. My life has been a little crazy since I left WWE behind, but definitely for the better.

As an avid Fall Out Boy fan, I had struck a deal to have my favorite song as my entrance music. I had been using it for most of my career. The music hit, the crowd went crazy. “Holy Hell, that music can only mean one person. The sister of the American Nightmare. That’s Peyton Rhodes!” JR yelled into his mic as I strolled down the ramp, ignoring the crowd. “Peyton” chants filled the arena as I made my way to the squared circle.

“Peyton Rhodes has joined AEW and the crowd couldn’t be happier,” Excalibur added. I walked around the ring to the time keeper, grabbing a mic from Justin, and strolled on toward the ring.

The music cut, and Cody was first to speak. "Oh yeah. I guess we didn't announce this but Peyton Rhodes is AEW!" The crowd screamed at Cody's news, chanting "AEW".

I soaked in the cheers because I knew it was all about to change. I had been a face for most of my pro-wrestling career, and now I finally get to pursue the heel turn my fans had been begging for. I took in a deep breath and adjusted my leather jacket.

“Oh, Atlanta, shut the hell up!” I groaned into the mic. I revelled in the audible gasp that could be heard. “That’s right. No more sweet ‘Georgia peach’ Peyton Rhodes. I came to AEW to raise hell, and that’s what I’m going to do.” I wandered around the ring, stopping in front of a camera. “I’m sick and tired of wanting your approval. I’m here to get what I want. And I want it all.” I punctuated as I looked dead into the camera.

“Hear that big brother,” I turned and faced Cody, “Hell just arrived in AEW I hope you’re ready.” I gestured to the crowd, “I hope you’re all ready, because if you thought Cody was a nightmare, wait til you see me, the Dream Killer.” I dropped the mic, and rolled out of the ring. The crowd loved it. “Dream Killer” chants echoed in my ears all the way backstage.

I was greeted by Dustin, Brandi, and Kenny. “That was perfect, Pey, they loved it.” Kenny said as soon as I was in sight. I grinned, running up to him, jumping into his arms for a hug.

“The crowd loved you. They’ve been hoping for this heel turn since your WWE debut.” Cody said, smiling from ear to ear as he returned to the back after finishing his promo.

“For real, Pey! You pull off the ‘heel’ thing. I can’t wait to work on your wardrobe!” Brandi squealed, embracing me in a dancing hug. “Just think about the shoes, Pey, the shoes.” Brandi was way more excited about the outfits than the actual turn. She had helped me pick the one I was wearing. Black jean shorts, a front-zip black and white crop top, leather jacket, and black boots.

“I can’t wait to see where this takes me.” I said before we were joined by the rest of The Elite.

Nick was the first to speak. “Not bad, Rhodes. You might be a better heel than your brother here.” He elbowed Cody in the ribs.

Matt nodded in agreement, “For real Peyton, the crowd was so hyped for that turn.” He said with a soft smile, bringing me in for a quick hug.

I turned to face everyone. “Thanks guys. All of you. You gave me this chance.” I thanked them, “I promise I won’t let you down.”

“You’re a great addition to the AEW family.” Adam complimented, “Come on Ken, we got a match to get ready for.” he said before walking away. Kenny gave me one last hug before following him.

Cody and Brandi also parted as she had a segment coming up, leaving me with the Young Bucks. “Come on, Pey, lets celebrate!” We had walked back to catering where some more of the AEW stars were waiting. In the back, I spotted the one person I couldn’t wait to see again. I told The Bucks I’d catch up with them.

“Jon!” I screamed, almost running to him. When he saw me rushing toward him, he opened his arms, inviting me in for a hug. Hugging him was a blast from the past.

“Peyton fucking Rhodes. I heard rumors you were coming. Sweetheart, you knocked them dead.” He spoke into my hair. I gave him one more tight squeeze before pulling away. “Well, you look great.” He said, gesturing to my outfit.

“I’m heel now. Finally.” I boasted. I’ve been waiting for this for the longest time and no one was taking it away from me. Jon and I talked, catching up. I asked about Renee and he lit up. He was happy and that’s all I wanted for him. He was finally able to be the fighting champion everyone knew he could be.

“What about Seth? What happened? The last time I spoke to him, he said you guys were happy and he had bought a ring.” Jon asked, and it knocked the breath out of me. I knew he would ask, but I wasn’t expecting him to mention a ring.

“He cheated on me. With Mandy. They’re engaged now.” I said without choking up, which was a good sign. I could see the disappointment well up in Jon’s eyes.

“You were always too good for him.” I knew he and Seth were still good friends, but I appreciated the words nonetheless. Jon gave me one last hug before he got called away for his match, leaving me alone in catering again.

I found a table close to a TV so I could watch the end of Kenny and Adam’s match. They were well on their way to becoming tag team champions. I started thinking about what Jon had said about Seth, about him buying a ring. I couldn’t believe it. He was going to ask me to marry him and I would have said yes, had I not found him with Mandy. I was pulled from my thoughts by my phone vibrating. It was Seth.

I saw your debut.

You look good.

You’re gonna be a great heel.

I miss you.

I wish you would talk to me and let me explain.

I read and reread the messages a hundred times before replying.

Okay, Seth. When and where?

124 notes · View notes

deansmom · 3 years

Text

(ao3) 6k of “what if dean got hit with a love spell on a hunt, and they thought the spell didn’t work because nothing changed until something did.” pray4sam lol, set post canon and 19/20 never happened.

Dean yells something, but Castiel doesn’t hear it over the sound of glass and metal breaking and bending around him. The vampires are throwing him around like a rag doll, and he can’t get his feet under him long enough to even try to stop it.

He feels absurdly, infuriatingly human.

Finally, Dean is able to interrupt the one who’s been doing most of the throwing, and Castiel is able to smite the next one that touches him.

The vampire dies with a loud, abrupt scream and it gives Sam and Dean enough time to take out the other four who’d been using Cas as a play thing.

His grace isn’t as strong as it used to be, and he just hurts everywhere. His head is particularly painful, the way that it’s throbbing so much it feels like his eyes are going to pop out.

He makes a noise that’s supposed to be Dean’s name but it sounds more like a groan. He just needs some help to stand up, and frankly, he’s not sure how structurally sound this building is anymore since they threw him through most of the supporting walls.

Dean is there suddenly, and Castiel has to bite back the instinct to whine at the frantic hands flying over him.

Hands stop on his face, and oh, there he is. Cas opens his mouth to say hello, he’s glad that they found him, something, and then -

Dean kisses him and it’s a little panicked, a little too rough, but mostly, it just feels nice.

He’s helpless to do anything more than lean up into it, one of his own hands grabbing at the sleeve of Dean’s jacket. He makes a noise into it and it turns into a groan very quickly, a twinge in his ribs not letting him move like that.

It startles Dean enough that he pulls back, his concern written clear across his face.

“Are you alright?? Did I hurt you??”

Sam makes a choked squawking noise from somewhere behind them, and both Dean and Cas look over at him. He bites his fist so he doesn’t yell it at them and abruptly walks out of the warehouse because oh my god, the spell wasn’t a dud.

Dean helps Cas out to the car, a hand on his chest and the other hand on his lower back with Cas’ arm thrown over his shoulder.

“Sam, a little help here?!” Dean glares incredulously at his brother, not even reacting to Castiel’s head falling onto his shoulder.

Sam jumps out of the passenger seat and opens the back door of the Impala, “Sorry, yeah, I just - I had to -“

Dean makes a displeased noise that sounds like Miracle when they stop petting her too soon.

“Yeah, whatever ya fuckin weirdo.” He moves the hand from Cas’ chest to his pocket and digs out the keys, “Here, Sammy, you drive.”

Sam blinks at the keys for a second too long, his brain still trying to process the fact that his brother has been under a spell for the last 3 weeks, and gets the keys tossed at his chest for the trouble.

He pouts a little bit despite himself, grabbing the keys from where they fell.

Dean is trying to figure out a way to get himself in the backseat without letting go of Cas and it’s not working. He’s got 5’11” of dead weight leaning on his shoulder, and Dean’s not as young as he used to be.

“A little help here?!”

Sam jumps forward, sliding his arms around Cas to hold him up, “Right, sorry.”

Dean slides in as soon as Cas is safely supported, and then leans forward to grab his shoulders again.

It takes the two of them a minute to figure out the coordination for this, and Cas gets his head slammed against the car once for their troubles. Miraculously neither the bump nor Dean yelling death threats at Sam gets a reaction out of him, other than a quiet groan.

When they successfully have him folded up in the backseat, Dean pulls Castiel’s head onto his lap and runs a hand through his hair.

“Okay, let’s get him to the motel room,” he sighs, sounding equal parts exhausted and worried.

Sam hesitates for a moment with the door open, moments from the past few weeks flying through his head in a new context now. Holy shit, he’s so dumb. They’re all so dumb.

Dean’s voice snaps him out of it, “Sam, come on!” He’s trying to glare at his brother, but he just looks more weirded out than anything, “What the hell is with you, man?? Let’s go.”

He nods, jumping into action and shutting the door a little too harshly. It earns him another squawk from the back seat and Sam winces, “Sorry.”

Holy shit, this is absurd.

Sam hesitates for a beat and decides against trying to talk to Dean now, heading over to the drivers side door.

He gets in the Impala and starts her up immediately, turning down the radio to a quieter volume when it starts playing.

He chances a look in the rear view mirror for a second, and he almost chokes on his tongue when he sees the look on Dean’s face.

He’s never felt so stupid in his life.

Sam shakes himself out of it and pulls the car out onto the main road, barely remembering to look both ways.

They’re quiet for a couple minutes, Dean lost in his concern, Sam lost in the memories of the past twelve years that now have a completely different context and holy shit.

The radio is still playing quietly in the background and it’s something, Sam’s not really sure what, because they didn’t drive here together. They’re going to have to go pick up Castiel’s truck at some point before they leave and huh, maybe Sam will just go and do that after he talks to them.

That’ll buy all of them like what, an hour? Two?

He’s so deep in his own thoughts that Sam almost misses it when he hears the voice coming from the back seat.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Dean whispers, his voice sounding softer than Sam’s ever heard it. “You scared the hell out of me back there.”

“...apologies,” Castiel’s equally soft voice answers, sounding rough. “They got the jump on me, and I -“

Dean shushes him, “Hey, you got nothing to apologize for.”

Castiel sighs, and Sam can hear his trench coat shifting on the bench, “Dean...”

Dean does something that makes the car quiet for a couple seconds too long and Sam has to resist the urge to clear his throat.

“Cas, I’m just glad you’re okay. Now close your eyes again for me? We’re almost back at the hotel.”

“‘M not tired,” is the grumbled reply Sam hears.

“Yeah okay superman, that’s fine, but you’re squinting at me and it’s making my head hurt. Close your eyes, it’ll make you feel better.”

Castiel sighs, the trench coat shifting again, “Alright, Dean.”

Sam turns the radio up just a little bit, feeling suddenly like he’s intruding on something even though he’s heard these conversations a million times before.

Holy shit, he’s so dumb.

When they get to the motel, Cas is more awake and is able to walk himself up to his room with Dean’s help.

Sam debates going to the front desk to see if they have another room he can get, since they’d been planning to just crash in Cas’ room anyways.

No, he should really take care of this whole shitshow first. Who knows what the effects of Dean being cursed for this long will be? And what if they...

He shakes himself out of it, literally, and finally gets out of the Impala to follow behind them.

They’re barely starting up the steps by the time Sam catches up to them and he catches just a snippet of their conversation.

“Really Dean, I’m alright,” Castiel is grumbling, putting way more weight on Dean than is probably necessary.

Dean snorts, the hand on Castiel’s lower back pressing firmly against him every time they go up a step, “Yeah, you’ve never looked better.”

Castiel groans, glaring at him as they go up another step, “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean grins at him, the tips of his ears turning a little pink. “That’s why you like me.”

Sam takes a couple steps backwards and decides that no, he’s going to give them a minute and grab their bags. Maybe go to the front desk and check on that room after all.

At the rate they’re going (at the rate Dean is milking this, he should say), they’ll be at the top of the stairs in like ten minutes anyways.

They don’t even notice that Sam’s not behind them anymore.

Figures.

Sam rolls his eyes and heads back to the Impala, pulling out his phone once he has the trunk open.

He types out a quick text to Eileen and Bobby.

‘Remember that hunt a couple weeks ago with the witches? Dean did get cursed. Need a spell to undo it ASAP.’

Eileen answers first.

‘A delayed spell?’

Sam snorts, running a hand through his hair.

‘No, I’m just an idiot.’

‘???’

‘I’ll explain later. Can you guys help?’

Finally Bobby answers and it makes Sam laugh out loud. He may not exactly be their Bobby, but sometimes he’s close enough that it’s hard to even tell the difference.

‘Don’t text me Sam, just call. Will c what I can dig up.’

Eileen’s reply comes after that.

‘I’m close, I’ll go help.’

Sam smiles, that warm feeling he gets every time they talk blooming in his chest again.

‘I owe you both.’

He grabs their duffles and slams the trunk shut.

When he gets up to the room ten minutes later, it takes Dean a couple minutes to actually open the door.

Much to Sam’s surprise (and delight) they both look just as miserable and clothed as when he left them. Good, that means Dean hasn’t done something that will freak him out later.

He hands Dean his duffle and a key, “Here, I’ve got the room two doors over.”

Dean frowns, taking both things, “Why’d you get another room? I’m not leaving Cas alone tonight. He could have a concussion, Sam.”

Castiel groans from the bed, “Dean I told you, I have enough Grace. I’ll be fine, I just need time -“

Dean snaps, not even looking back at him when he says, “Cas, I love you, but shut the fuck up, this isn’t up for debate.”

Castiel’s mouth closes with an audible click, Sam feels lightheaded all of a sudden and Dean looks like he can’t believe he’s got two idiots in the same room as him.

“What?!” He growls, looking back and forth between the two of them, “Why the hell are you guys being weird??”

Sam opens his mouth to say something, but Cas beats him to the punch.

He gets up to hobble over to them, and Dean’s there supporting him before he even gets two steps away from the bed.

“Dean,” he sighs, reluctantly leaning into his arms for support. “On second thought, I am hungry. Could you please go pick up some food?”

Castiel smiles at the confused look on his face and sets a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “I do think it will help me heal faster.”

That seems to be a good enough reason for Dean because any defensiveness melts away immediately. He nods, already guiding Cas backwards again, “Fine, but you’ve gotta stay here on this bed, and rest.”

Cas lets Dean settle him onto the bed again and sighs, trying to sound more put-out than he feels, “Alright, if you insist.”

“Damn right I insist,” Dean huffs.

And then, like it’s fine and totally normal and not throwing either one of them off their game, he leans down and kisses the top of his head.

“Okay,” Dean says as he stands upright. “Sammy, you stay here with Cas. I’ll go get burgers and then we’ll talk about why you’re being so weird.”

He points at Sam as he says it, his expression clearly meaning that he thinks Sam is the one who isn’t being normal.

Sam nods, finally stepping into the room, “Yeah, alright, sounds good.”

Dean grabs the Impala’s keys from Sam’s hand and starts to head out the door when Sam remembers.

“Oh shit, Dean!” He yelps, stepping out into the hallway again.

Dean sighs and turns around, throwing his hands up, “What?!”

Sam cringes, pointing to Dean’s face, “You got vamp all over you.”

At the reminder, Dean brings a hand up to wipe his face off and blanches when he sees the blood and chunks on it (eugh).

The most shocking thing, believe it or not, is that Dean just kinda shrugs after a moment.

“Gross, I’ll wipe it off in the car, but I gotta go get the food for Cas.”

Sam just kinda... gapes at his brother, and eventually feels himself nodding. “Yeah, uh... yeah okay. Just don’t go in anywhere looking like that.”

Dean rolls his eyes and turns back around, heading towards the stairs, “What is this Sam, my first rodeo?! I got it.”

Because his brain is still trying to process everything it’s figured out in the last thirty minutes, Sam just goes back into the motel room. He shuts the door behind him and points at Cas, “We need to talk.”

Castiel deflates a little, shifting himself so he’s resting against the headboard, “Dean is under a love spell, isn’t he?”

Sam sighs, dropping his duffle by the foot of the bed, “I’m gonna go with yeah.”

Someone yells at their TV nearby, the radiator kicks on and Castiel groans when he sits up and starts pulling the trench coat off.

“I don’t understand why it just kicked in now,” he grumbles, sounding petulant.

Sam snorts and sits down at the end of the bed, barely missing his feet, “I don’t think it did, Cas.”

He gets a squint for his troubles, and Sam sighs, realizing that this might be a more difficult conversation than he was anticipating.

Look, he’s not blind, okay? He kinda figured that Dean had like, a crush or something on Cas. And he knows that Cas has had a crush on Dean for god, who knows? Maybe since they first met?

But he always just kinda figured that the two of them knew about it and just, like... didn’t think it was a good idea.

In the time it took for them to drive over here, Sam’s started to think that they have no idea.

He sighs again, looking up at the ceiling, “Look, you know how Dean’s been a little bit more touchy the last couple weeks?”

Again, remembering the day after they got home from ganking the witches when Sam caught Dean rubbing Castiel’s shoulders, he fees like the biggest idiot in the world.

Cas shifts on the bed, shrugging a little, “I don’t understand what that has to do with anything, Sam. Your brother is a very tactile person.”

And yeah, okay, add that one to the list of “Reasons Why Sam Is Stupid.”

He rolls his head over to look at Cas, “Dude, maybe, but he isn’t normally like that.”

Castiel sits up and then groans again, falling back against the pillows.

“I don’t understand, your brother isn’t...” He glares at his hands, fiddling with the sleeve of his coat, “He isn’t interested in me, Sam.”

Not for the first time in the last hour, Sam desperately wishes for something to ram his head through. This is absurd.

Cas hums, looking very human, “Although I suppose that a love spell would make that a moot point...”

Sam sets a hand on his ankle and turns so he’s facing his friend, “Cas.”

He doesn’t look up from his hands and Sam resists the urge to yell in frustration by squeezing Castiel’s leg, “Dude, look at me for a second, please.”

After a couple moments, he finally does look up at him and Sam wants to laugh. Cas looks so nervous and just, painfully human, and Sam almost feels bad for the guy.

“Yeah, Dean’s been under the influence of the spell the last couple weeks.”

Castiel looks away again, and Sam moves so he’s still in his line of sight.

“But buddy, you’re insane if you think that he doesn’t love you.”

The person in another room yells at their TV again and then all Sam can hear is the pipes in the bathroom, rattling with the effort of bringing water to someone in the building.

“I’d like to be alone now, Sam,” Castiel says after a couple minutes of silence.

Sam rolls his eyes and lets go of his ankle, “Dean’s going to kill me if I’m not here when he gets back.”

He seems to consider that for a moment before nodding.

“Alright. Then I’d like to wait for my food in the bathroom please.”

They both just stare at each other for a while, both of them daring the other to say anything about it. Finally Sam sighs and stands up, “Yeah, okay. Do you need help, or...?”

Castiel stands up and he has to steady himself on Sam’s arm for a beat. He does, however, swat off Sam’s hands when they move to support him, “I’m fine, Sam. I can walk.”

That annoying little brother part of him wants to point out how hard Cas was leaning on Dean earlier, but he bites his tongue. He just steps out of the way and makes a ‘go ahead’ gesture.

Castiel glares at him like he knows what Sam is thinking, and oh man, is that his ears turning pink?

Sam grins at him, wanting to say something else, but Cas just shoves past him and makes a beeline for the bathroom. He’s definitely got a little bit of a limp, and he’s for sure favoring one side over the other, but he makes it to the bathroom completely fine on his own. The door promptly slams shut in Sam’s face.

He snickers fondly to himself, going over to turn the TV on. He finds a channel that looks entertaining enough and flops down on the couch, keeping the volume low enough that he can hear it Cas needs help.

Dean comes back twenty minutes later with bags overflowing and his hands full.

“Guys, dinner’s up!”

He sets his bounty on the tiny table by the door and looks around the room, grinning. The grin disappears completely when Cas isn’t on the bed, and Sam’s just looking at him from the couch.

“Hey, Cas just decided to take a shower.”

And he did, honest. He even poked his head out like two minutes ago and asked Sam to bring him a change of clothes.

Dean’s face looks a little panicked again and Sam jumps up, holding his hands out in a placating motion.

“Hey, he’s fine Dean, he just hopped in. He won’t be out for a couple minutes.”

He comes over and sets a hand on Dean’s shoulder, kinda feeling like he’s dealing with an emotional time bomb.

“Come eat,” he tries again, squeezing Dean’s shoulder. “That way when Cas is done and ready to eat his own food, you can totally focus on him.”

That seems to snap Dean out of the panic spiral he looked like he was going down, and he’s visibly trying to make himself not look like that’s what was happening.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, looking away from the bathroom door. “Yeah, okay, good call.”

Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes when Dean turns around and starts digging through the bags.

He takes his impossible burger when it’s handed to him, and sits down with his back to the bathroom door to appease his brother.

Dean offers him a sheepish smile and sits across from his brother. His butt is barely in the chair when he takes a big bite out of his burger and well Sam, it’s now or never.

“Dean,” he starts, trying to find the right words for this.

“You kissed Cas.”

Well, okay, probably not the best start.

Dean frowns at him through the next big bite he takes and asks, mouth full, “So?”

Sam shifts uncomfortably in his seat, picking a stray piece of onion off the side of his burger.

“Well, Dean, you don’t... normally do that.”

Again, Dean’s got that look on his face like he thinks Sam has once and for all fully lost his mind.

“What the hell are you talking about, Sam? Of course I do.”

Please, God, he prays, wondering if Jack can hear him. I don’t want to have this conversation with my brother.

When nothing happens Sam groans, his hands coming up to rub his temples, “Dean, remember a couple weeks ago? That job with the coven?”

Dean takes a bite of a fry, staring blankly at Sam while he chews, “What about it? We beat them.”

God, please, a sinkhole, a lightning bolt, something.

“Yeah,” Sam sighs, his fingers working into his head harder. “And remember the spell that one of them tried with you right before Cas killed her...?”

Dean shrugs, taking another fry, “Yeah, and? It was a dud, it didn’t work.”

Would slamming his head against the table be too dramatic? Because that’s how this conversation is beginning to feel.

Sam sets his hands on the table, fully glaring at his brother, “It wasn’t a dud. It was a love spell, and it hit you, and you’re in love with Cas.”

Dean blinks at him for a moment, narrowing his eyes a little, “Yeah...” He’s speaking slowly, like Sam is either stupid or insane (he’s starting to really feel both), “That’s because I am.”

Because he’s nothing if not a true little brother, Sam groans and glares up at the ceiling, silently begging Jack to help him.

Of course he doesn’t, because he’s got bigger things to do and to worry about, but Sam feels like he’s being punished instead of Dean.

“Are you feeling okay, Sammy?” Dean takes another bite of his burger and keeps talking while he chews, “You’re acting really weird.”

Sam scrunches his face up in disgust, “Ugh, Dean, you’re gross. How does Cas even...”

Something makes Dean choke a little bit on the food in his mouth and it takes him a full minute to swallow it. Sam wants to laugh at the panic on Dean’s face because his brother is 42 going on 4, but he doesn’t.

“Sam, don’t even...” Dean glares at him warily, sneaking a look over at the bathroom, “Cas doesn’t... Y’know...” He makes a vague gesture with his hands and oh my god.

“Dean,” he starts, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “Do you...” Sam licks his lips, trying to resist the urge to scream at him, “Do you think that Cas doesn’t love you?”

And now Dean’s blushing and squirming in his seat like he’s 13 and somebody just asked him if his crush like him back and ohmygod, Sam is going to fling himself into traffic.

“He’s an Angel, man,” Dean hisses. “They don’t work like that.”

“I’m going to kill myself,” Sam groans loudly, letting his head fall forward with a thunk on the table. “Ow, fuck.”

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice interrupts them. He’s standing in between the bathroom door and the bed, wearing some of Dean’s old PJ’s.

(What? Sam’s not stupid, he wasn’t going to give Cas his PJ’s - what if they had sex on them or something? Gross.)

“We need to talk.”

Dean shrinks in on himself a little, not looking away from Cas, “Buddy, look, it’s not what it sounds like -“

Castiel rolls his eyes, his arms coming up to cross over his chest, “Dean, you kissed me.”

Again, he squirms a little in his seat, “So?”

Now at least, someone else is sharing in Sam’s pain.

Castiel sighs, “You haven’t done that since purgatory.”

And welp, holy shit, okay, that’s news.

Dean scoffs, taking a fry from Sam’s pile since his are all gone, “What??? That’s not true.”

“And you said you loved me,” Castiel grumbles, squirming himself now. “You’ve never said that to me before.”

“Well, I -“ Dean starts, shrugging, “I mean, I thought you knew?”

Castiel squawks, most definitely does not stomp his foot, “I don’t appreciate being... made fun of like this, Dean.” He’s trying to look pissed, but he’s just kinda radiating hurt so bad that Sam can feel it from all the way over here.

“I know it’s the spell that’s making you act like this, Dean, but I don’t appreciate you throwing my own words in my face so callously. It hurts.”

Sam’s brain comes to such an abrupt screeching halt that he wonders if they can hear it.

‘Throwing my own words’?! Does that...

“Cas,” Dean starts, finally getting up from his chair. “I’m not under any sort of spell, man. It’s just me in here.”

Castiel glares, unmoved, “You are, Dean, and the sooner we can fix it, the better.”

“I’m not!” He growls, returning his glare, “And I don’t appreciate you making fun of me either.”

“Guys!!” Sam yells to interrupt them, the tension getting a little too thick for his comfort, “Cas, Dean is under a love spell, but he’s also in love with you, you idiot.”

Sam turns to Dean and points at him, “And you, you absolute fucking moron, Cas said I love you, and you still don’t believe it?!”

Dean’s glare turns into something like a pout, “He was dying!”

Sam barely resists the urge to yell, and instead just asks as calmly as he can, “So?!”

“Well, I...” Dean frowns, looking down at his shoes.

Cas sighs, his voice much softer than before when he says, “Sam, I think your brother and I need to speak alone for a minute.”

Every ounce of tension and anxiety drains out of Sam’s body at once and he nods, running over to grab his bag and his food, “Thank Christ, I’ll be down the hall if you guys need me.”

Neither one of them says anything until the door’s closed behind him, and even then it takes Cas a minute to figure out what to say.

“Dean, will you...” he sighs, sitting on the bed again, “Will you please come here?”

Dean nods, reluctantly sitting down next to him.

He won’t even look at Cas and he’s going to drive Castiel insane one day. He’s going to lose his damn mind and throw this infuriating human through a wall.

“Look, I -“

“Cas, I -“

They both smile sheepishly at each other, each surprised that the other person said anything.

“No, you go ahead,” Dean says at the same time Cas says, “Apologies, Dean, you -“

They both laugh, some of the tension draining out of both of them.

Sam’s right, this whole thing is absurd.

“So...” Dean starts after a couple minutes, “We... don’t normally kiss.”

Castiel smiles, not taking his eyes off of his hands, “No, we don’t.”

“And I...” Dean winces, looking out the window across from them, “I’ve been under a love spell for the last couple weeks.”

This time, the smile is much more sad and less fond, “It would certainly appear that way.”

Something occurs to Dean and he groans, burying his head in his hands, “Oh my god.”

At that, Cas shifts on the bed so he’s angled towards Dean, a hand resting on his knee. “Dean, it’s alright...”

He shakes his head, refusing to look up from his hands because holy shit, he’s been under a spell for three weeks and he’s so damn gone on Cas that NOBODY NOTICED THE DIFFERENCE.

This is mortifying.

He flops backwards on the bed, groaning again, “Oh my god.”

“Dean,” Castiel sighs, sounding way more annoyed now. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

Dean whines despite himself, flopping his arms down beside him on the bed, “Jack! Jack, damn it, I know you’re busy but I need your help!”

Castiel makes a frustrated noise, “Dean, I can lift the-“

A hand comes up and grabs his wrist before it can touch Dean, “No.” Dean’s voice is firm, even though he still won’t look at him.

“You need your mojo more than me. Heal.”

At that Castiel sighs, shaking his head, “Fine. Jack, my apologies for bothering you, but if you could please just...”

The curtains whoosh, and then Jack is standing at the foot of the bed. He smiles at them, big and open and oh so Jack.

“Hi Dean! Hi Cas!” He gives them a tiny wave before the smile falls off his face, “What’s wrong?”

Castiel squeezes Dean’s leg, “Dean is under a spell. I would lift it myself, but -“

Dean pushes himself up, trying to smile at Jack, “He’s hurt, needs his grace to heal. And I need this spell lifted, please.”

Jack nods, solemn, “Of course. Have you...?” He looks around the room, frowning when he realizes Sam isn’t here, “Have you tried a reversal spell?”

Again Dean sighs, “It’s... a couple weeks old. We don’t know what spell they used.”

That seems to be explanation enough for him, because then Jack is there next to them, and his hand is on Dean’s face.

He closes his eyes out of habit more than anything, holding his breath.

“...There,” Jack says after a moment. He removes his hand, grinning at them, “That should’ve fixed it.”

The difference is subtle. Dean feels exactly the same as he has for the last three weeks, but now he’s mortified and wants to crawl into a hole and die.

God, what was he thinking?? He doesn’t get to love Cas like that, not after everything.

Dean wants to disappear into the ether but he just returns the smile as best he can and nods, “Yeah-“ His voice cracks, “Yeah, uh, that did it.”

Castiel is watching him warily, but he does offer Jack a smile, “Thank you.”

Jack reaches out as if to heal him too, and Castiel just stops him with a shake of the head.

“Really Jack, I’m alright. I’ll be healed by tomorrow.”

He can feel Dean fidgeting next to him with the desire to bolt, to run away from the situation he’s created, so Cas silently asks Jack to leave them. Thankfully, miraculously, he still seems to hold some authority over him, and he does.

Dean tries to hop up as soon as he’s gone and Cas just tightens his grip on Dean’s leg.

“Dean Winchester -“ he starts, his mouth suddenly going dry with the question. Cas has to lick his lips a couple times to get his voice to start working, and he fights the urge to preen when he catches Dean chasing the movement with his eyes.

“Do you...” His voice cracks, “Do you really love me?”

Dean looks just like he did before the Empty took him. He’s barely holding back his tears and he’s terrified. His whole being is begging Cas not to do this, not to put everything on the line like this.

Because now, Castiel thinks he might understand what that face means. Don’t put everything on the line like this, don’t break my heart, don’t make me lose you again.

But oh my god, Cas is so tired. And much like Sam in the car, Cas has spent most of his time in the bathroom going over memories of the last twelve years with some new context.

“Dean...” His voice is soft as his hand comes up to rest on his cheek, “I meant what I said. I’ve loved you for a very long time.”

Dean closes his eyes, leaning into the hand, “Why?”

Castiel sighs, pushing some of his feelings through his Grace to meld with Dean’s soul. He’s never been good with words and he just - he needs Dean to know.

He needs Dean to know that he’s never seen anything more beautiful than Dean’s smile, than his soul, and Castiel saw the universe come to fruition. He is millions of years old and he never understood why humans do the things that they do until he met Dean. He’s never loved anything as much as he loves Dean, not even his father, and it terrifies him.

He shows Dean his memories - watching him rake leaves, pulling him out of hell, watching over him at night, that night before they interrogated Raphael. He shows him purgatory, that first time since that night they kissed. He shows him every moment since then that he’s been overwhelmed with the urge to kiss Dean and protect him and tell him how much he loves him.

He shows Dean the dreams that he’s visited, he shows him the heaven he’s designed for him when he’s ready, he shows him his own wildest dreams he never lets himself think about.

Cas shows Dean a dream of them in bed together, and a little girl jumping on the bed to wake them up on Christmas morning. He shows Dean a dream of him cooking in the kitchen, and Cas coming up behind him to kiss his shoulder. He shows Dean a dream of them when they’re 80, sitting in their rocking chairs on the front porch of their house while they watch their grandkids play in the yard. He shows Dean a dream where they get to grow old together, be happy, die with each other in their sleep.

Dean gasps despite himself, tears flowing freely and uncaring to stop them. He closes his eyes again and pushes his own feelings through the connection.

His soul is vibrating with all the love it feels because Dean has never loved anyone or anything like he loves Cas. He wants Cas to know that he makes Dean feel brave, he makes Dean feel like there’s something worth fighting for. He shows Cas how much he trusts him, wholly and completely. He shows him a memory of him choking back tears when he thought Cas was really gone after Sam killed Lilith. How sad and confused he was because he should’ve been happy and he just felt kinda empty.

He shows Cas the alternate universe where they shared a cabin, where Cas was a wreck, where they loved each other so much and so hard that they destroyed each other. He shows Cas every moment he wanted to kiss him, every memory he has where all he could think was “I love you, don’t do this to me.” He shows Cas purgatory, all that time fighting through everything with Benny to find him, how terrified and in love he was back then. He shows Cas everything, every moment he thought he was being obvious about it and apparently wasn’t.

The memories of every time he lost Cas leak in without his permission. Him drowning in grief, drowning in alcohol, drowning in rage, just drowning. How empty and hollow he felt every time and how scared he was. Because Cas makes him brave.

And then he shows him dreams - the two of them running an inn for hunters. The two of them waking up together, eating breakfast together, starting their day together. The two of them watching movies together with Dean’s head in his lap, their loved ones safe around them. Taking care of a new generation of hunters, babysitting Garth and Sam’s kids, making dinner for Claire and Kaia when they come visit on the way home from a hunt. The two of them with Jack on Christmas morning, Cas kissing him under the mistletoe, Cas dancing with him in the kitchen while Christmas dinner cooks.

Castiel opens his eyes, and oh. Oh, this is what that feeling is that Dean radiates sometimes. He gets feelings through their connection sometimes, when Dean prays, but he was never sure what this one was. It felt familiar and like it was supposed to be happy, but never fully got there.

Contentment.

Dean wants all of that and more with him, but he just needs Cas in his life. He’ll take him in whatever way he can have him.

“Oh,” he whispers, a smile on his face. “Oh, Dean, you’ve always had me.”

Dean looks like he’s barely holding it together.

He spent so long thinking that he was crazy, he was just projecting, Cas didn’t love him like that.

And here Cas was, drowning in it too the whole damn time.

This time when Dean pulls him in for a kiss, it’s much more gentle and slow. Neither one of them is good at being tender, but they’re both so scared of each other that it’s the only way they know how to touch anymore.

“Cas, I...” he mumbles in between kisses.

Castiel shushes him, taking Dean’s bottom lip in between his teeth, “I know, Dean. I know.”

Down the hall, Sam and Jack are watching some Disney reruns together. Jack offers him the box of red vines, “Would you like one, Sam?”

He shrugs and takes one without looking away from the tv, “Thanks.”

When the commercial break comes on Jack asks, “Do you think they’re okay in there?”

Sam snorts and takes a swig of his beer, “Yeah buddy, I think they’re okay.”

#deancas fic #deancas fix it #destiel fix it #spndeancas #mackenzie attempts fics #personal #otp: cursed or not #I wrote this all on my phone most of it in the last 3 hours l o l sorry if there's any errors I tried

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myblueeyedbuggers · 3 years

Text

My Boys

Chapter 13

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 2063

Warnings: Swearing, bit of violence if you looking very closely

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Ey up my Loves, so we’re back and kicking ass! Quite literally in this Chapter, I’ve been going back over my previous chapters and I’m considering rewriting them to fit my new style. Let me know what you all think, do you prefer them as they are or would you want them to match my new style ? Anyways without further ado here's chapter 13, enjoy everyone! <3

3rd person POV

Years have passed since that moment, time brought changes to the trio, what was once a childhood crush developed into a fierce love that neither of the pair wanted to acknowledge or admit in fear of loosing the other.

As you can imagine both Steve and Becca were ready to rip the heads off of their dumbass siblings.

6 years is a verrrry long time to put up with long looks of pining and repressed feelings, but unfortunately for the Brooklyn natives, y/n and bucky were about as stubborn as each other and refused to listen to the reasonable, sometimes frustrated, rants of their best friends. So much to the utter frustration of Steve and Becca, the two young lovebirds lived in a state of denial and attempted (the keyword being ATTEMPTED) to move on with their lives.

Naturally, someone as charming and handsome as James Barnes seemed to have a never-ending line of girls begging to be his, it had become a common occurrence for him to have a new girl on his arm each week, not that Steve or Y/n approved of his behaviour but hey Bucky can be a real big dumbass when he wants to be. Y/n did try to hide how much it bothered her, thankfully not only was Bucky a dumbass he was also completely unaware of her feelings and simply chalked it down to her being the unapproving sister, but to Steve it was a clear as day. He could see it in her face every time Bucky left to take the new girl dancing, or when she’d finish work early only to see Buck and his new girl on a romantic date in the Café opposite the dinner she worked at. The bright light behind her eyes always dimmed a little and she wouldn’t talk for hours, which for anyone that didn’t know her was enough to ring an ambulance and arrange a mental evaluation.

Now that’s not to say that Bucky was any better, the look of absolute utter rage that covered his face when another man called for Y/n was enough to make Steve and Becca completely loose it and simply laugh at his misery, neither of them felt bad because they’d been telling him for YEARS to man up and confess his feelings. Occasionally the pair did feel a slight twinge of guilt towards their brother, like the time the trio went to Y/n’s house to surprise her after work, only to see her kissing the cheek of a guy they’d never seen before, just like his other half Bucky did try to hide it, but the flash of pain that crossed his face was impossible to miss.

It’d gotten to the point where Steve wanted to lock em both in a closet til they finally admitted their feelings and put themselves out of their misery, though the fact that he had all the physical stats of a toothpick quickly nipped that idea in the bud.

Cut to today, for once it looked like it’d be a fairly normal day for everyone, boys were off doing god knows what, knowing those two it’d involve a punch up started by a small blonde idiot and finished by an even bigger idiot of a brunette. Though the same couldn’t be said about their girl, ever the more responsible one of them all Y/n had agreed to work overtime in the local dinner over on main street, meaning that she’d be the one closing the place down at 9pm.

Y/n didn’t even wanna think about what her two idiots would get up without proper adult supervision, though over the years she’d learned to expect that it would more than likely be something illegal.

Thankfully, it wasn’t something she had to worry about for the next couple of hours, though 9 times out of ten she’d be the one cleaning up the cuts and bruises only for them to come back the next day fresh wounds. As much as it did on occasion piss her off to no ends, Y/n wouldn’t want it any other way, they were and always will be her boys.

Y/N’s POV

Well, that was an absolute shit show of a day.

I mean you’d of thought that I was common knowledge not to put ya hands up a waitresses skirt, but nay some men didn’t seem to have got that memo, ever the public servant I made it my job to enlighten then with a hot cup of coffee to the crotch. How I’ve not received employee of the month is beyond me, what’s not to love ? I’m a fucking delight!

Thank god it’s home time, if I’da stayed in that place any longer something would of happened, knowing my crazy ass it’d of been something violent but in my defence….okay I don’t have a defence, but men can seriously suck ass when they wanna. All I wanna do is have a peaceful walk home, ignore the homeless guys that like to gawp at my ass and run a big old bubble bath whilst relaxing with a decent book.

Naturally, that didn’t happen.

Now, If ya spend as much time around a bunch of over aggressive monkeys that love jumping into fights as much as I do, you’ll probably get real good at recognising the sounds of a fight. And I’ve got a pretty good idea who the two dipshits are that started this pissing contest.

The sounds of shoes scuffling across the pavement were pretty much impossible to miss now, that along with the grunts and groans of a bunch of guys smacking the absolute shit outta each other tipped me off to what was happening around the corner. Everything in me screamed to carry on my merry way and let these morons sort out whatever beef they had in peace and believe me I was so close to ignoring it and walking past em, but it’s kinda hard to do that when ya hear ya best mate scream “come at me motherfuckers!”.

I couldn’t help the frustrated sigh that came outta my mouth but come on guys! This is the 5th one this week!

Very reluctantly I doubled back and went to help my idiotic boys out of whatever trouble they managed to get em selves into, and boy I’m glad that I did cause they were losing. Badly. It would seem that Steve’s request was met for them to “come at” him, cause one of em had him by the arms and was pummelling the life out of his small body, and Bucky wasn’t having any better luck either. Buck was in the same situation, but he had the pleasure of two guys restraining his arms whilst another two took turns in kicking him in the stomach, I mean I was already pissed off at what was happening to Steve but now, I’m beyond pissed and IF I’d of taken the time to calm down for a few seconds I’da thought of a better plan than this.

“Man…I really liked these shoes”.

In my defence, I didn’t mean to throw them as hard as I did, I was hoping to distract them for a couple of seconds so I could get the jump on the guy beating the crap outta Steve, instead I hit him square in the back his head and knocked him the fuck out. Any other time I’da been wetting myself laughing, but instead it seemed like time slowed down as the assholes holding Steve up froze and made eye contact with me, even the guys on Bucky stopped to see what had happened, all four of em had a look of complete and utter disbelief when they finally saw me. Not that I really cared, all I wanted was for em to get the fuck off of my boys.

Nobody seemed to wanna say anything for the next couple of seconds, the assholes beating up Bucky and Steve were still trying to wrap their heads around what just happened, and my idiots were looking back and forth between the guy on the floor and me, not even taking the time to try escape their holds. How the hell they manage to survive all these years without me is beyond my understanding.

“Sup my dudes, my names Y/n and I’ll be kicking ya ass today”.

I think it’s safe to say that I snapped everyone out of their shocked states, cause the guys holding both Steve and Bucky dropped their asses to the ground and instead focus on me, which is pretty fair considering I did just knock their mate out with a 2-inch healed shoe.

“Do ya know what we do to girls that don’t know their place round here? Cause ya about to find out girly” why is it always the ugliest motherfuckers that try to act tough, I mean look at this guy! he’s got more stains on his shirt than he does teeth, and about as much hair as a furless cat, I’ve been more intimidated by a group of 12-year-old girls in the dinner than I have him!...teenagers are fucking scary don’t judge me.

Right back to this absolute shitshow of a ‘fight’.

Mr ‘I’m only 30 years old and I already need dentures’ swung his arm out towards me in a pathetic attempt at a punch, which massively backfired on him cause I threw that dumbass over my shoulder and ‘accidently’ knocked his last 4 teeth out. That left me with the rest of the hounds, two of em were rushing at me the second I let go of their newly toothless friend, the one on my right missed me completely and fell over a fence, dumbass. The dude on my left though, well he didn’t miss I’ll put it that way, he fully rugby tackled me into the car behind me, knocking the wind outta me and leaving me dazed for a few seconds.

But just like the first guy, his ‘punches’ were about effective as a marshmallow. Pretty embarrassing for him really, I mean you hate to see it.

“Okay no, give me your hand I’m gonna teach you how to punch cause this is just embarrassing for you dude, first don’t put your thumb at the bottom cause ya gonna break it, second don’t just throw ya arm forward and hope it hurts, use your body weight cause ya got a lot of it and throw it into the punch.”

At that point I’d pushed him off me and the car, his form was absolutely terrible so I went ahead and corrected it for him, found out his name was Eric, which was pretty interesting, gave him a few practise shots and then let him hit me for real, and I must be a fucking amazing teacher cause that one hurt!

“Really Doll?”

Let me tell you, I’d never seen Bucky so unimpressed in my life, his face was completely deadpanned with only his eyebrows raised, Steve wasn’t too impressed either, his infamous mum glare was in full force as I sheepishly backed away from my new best friend.

“In my defence, you left me unsupervised, and Eric’s form was absolutely atrocious, wasn’t it Eric my lad ?”

“….She’s a pretty good teacher to be fair”.

“See? I’m a good teacher! Suck it Barnes!”

Bucky Knocked Eric the fuck out in response. I think you can all understand how heartbroken I was.

“What the hell Barnes?! If it weren’t for me you and Steve would be dead!” I’m pretty sure I looked as insane as I was acting, Steve was full on laughing his ass off behind Buck, I mean if I weren’t so annoyed by them both right now I’d be on the floor with him just dying of laughter. But nay, I had a bone to pick with the both of them, which I think they both realised considering they both went pale before turning around and bucking it to my house. What you need to remember is that these are fully gown men, running around a Brooklyn neighbourhood screaming bloody murder, with a much smaller y/h/c lass running right behind them brandishing a pair of heels, fully intending to murder them both.

How we’ve gone all these years without being arrested or locked in a mental asylum astounds me.

So hopefully you all enjoyed this, let me know what you all think, we’ve got about 2 more chapters left of my boys then we move onto Captain America the First Avenger!!

lots of love

Rose xx

#winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #captain america x reader #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #mcu #fanfic #reader #reader insert #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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wordsinwinters · 3 years

Text

Then Again, Part 26 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Total word count: 50,293

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25,

Summary: After an intense argument and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Slow burn fic in which all characters are included and their dynamics explored; multiple character POVs.

Betas: @girl-tips-from-satan and @fanboyswhereare-you

A/N: This isn’t my favorite chapter, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for over a year and I figured if I don’t post it now, I’ll never move on to the next. Additionally, as always, I live for feedback. 😉

Without further ado,

Then Again Part 26:

(Words: 2,825)

The bus ride will probably get boring soon, or at least as long as the girls stay asleep, but even as quiet as it is, it’s almost a perfect morning. Being early (around 6:00, I think?), there’s barely any light except street lamps and car lights, but some of the clouds on the right have caught a pretty bluish purple tinge. It reminds me of that Rainbow Fish book Aunt May used to read to me as a kid. To make it better, the morning air is chilly enough that the driver turned the heaters on low so it’s wrapped-in-a-blanket-while-it-snows warm in here. Although that also might be why, apart from general dirt and old gum, the strongest smell on the bus is salty grease— since the nearest heater is under the seat Flash spilled french fries and chicken nuggets in yesterday. It could be worse, though. I mean, it’s not necessarily a bad smell and the traffic isn’t horrible. It’s not the best, but it could definitely be louder and a lot slower. The field of flowing red tail lights ahead of us is oddly comforting, like a snail-slow pasture of mechanical color.

All in all, it’s a pretty cozy start for a dreaded five hour bus ride. It’s giving me quiet time to think. So that’s where I’m at. Or should be. I got some stuff organized in my head last night even if I keep getting distracted now. Well, it was more like a couple hours ago, since I wasn’t able to get to sleep for so long after we said goodnight. But anyway, I’m trying to focus. It’s just hard, even with both of them sleeping.

From my and Ned’s spot behind them, watching the girls’ heads gently shake and bump against each other as the bus shudders through potholes is kind of calming. They seem so peaceful from this angle, like two people who’ve never pranked me and Ned to the point we were nearly suspended, or kept us awake and annoyed by asking paradoxical hypothetical questions because they know how Ned and I will argue for days if we don’t agree on an answer, or anything else like that. It’s like finding two mischievous cats sleeping, curled up on a chair. It’s easier to appreciate them when they aren’t causing chaos. But it’s not that hard to appreciate them when they are anyway.

Though Ned and I won’t admit it when they’re fully awake, seeing their heads smack into the seat in front of them each time the bus lurched to a halt at stoplights (during the first ten minutes after they’d fallen asleep) was funnier than it should’ve been. Even knowing then that we wouldn’t mention it later didn’t stop us from exchanging silent laughs when they leaned back up, muttering unintelligible complaints before settling their heads back onto one another. For the last couple stoplights before the highway, at least, we decided to be better friends. We both stood up with one leg on the floor and one knee on our own seat so we could easily hold their foreheads back each time it happened. Again, I wouldn’t admit this out loud, even to Ned, but it’s a little bit funny that Ned was a split second slower than me, so while I kept catching MJ’s head before the stop, he half-smacked Y/N’s forehead, like a really-close-to-the-floor basketball dribble, and made a wincing face each time. A lot of times. But it did stop her from colliding with the seat, and she didn’t wake up or complain.

As nice as it is with them and almost everyone else sleeping through the dark, quiet first hour of the bus trek back to New York, I am excited for her and MJ to wake up. Whenever that is. I’ve missed them.

But anyway, I really need to focus. God. I’m not doing a great job of that this morning. Apparently. So I’m focusing now. It’s like Ned said. I need to be honest with myself.

Okay.

Alright.

No distractions.

I’m going to set myself straight now, before we get back, so I can make a game plan and be more decisive and make less mistakes. Fewer? Yeah, fewer mistakes. She’s told me that half a dozen times this since she read that grammar book last summer. But that’s not important.

If I’m being honest... I think I’ve avoided the real possibility that things could work out between us because it felt too risky. And I make some dumb, impulsive choices. So that’s saying a lot. If she said no, what’s the worst that could happen? May and Ned have been asking me that for months, and it’s been so frustrating. The answer should be obvious. The worst thing wouldn’t be the rejection, it’d be if it made her uncomfortable and she broke off our friendship. Or, even if she stuck around, if our friendship changed and I had to watch her get more and more distant, knowing it was my fault and nothing would ever go back to normal.

Those were the worst — and, I thought, most probable — possibilities. For months I’ve been certain that if anything changed, everything would, and it’d all go to shit. So I kept dodging it. And dodging her before the trip. But, then, things did change this weekend. Things are changing. We fought, and it was super shitty and awful and a total nightmare fiasco, but we made up. And she seemed almost as relieved as me when we did. Now we even have this pact about spending more time together. I know it’s officially only in the name of friendship, but something’s… different. I feel it, and I think she does too. And it doesn’t seem bad. That’s the craziest part. I mean, she even kissed me last night. On the cheek, but still. “Keep it.” Maybe May’s not ridiculous: she really might feel the same way.

I’ve been texting her this morning, actually. Aunt May. I had to admit that I’m happy she forced me to do the forehead kiss thing last night. As annoyed as I was that she and Ned ganged up on me like that, I can’t dispute the results. She kissed me! Kind of. (To be fair, she did hit my mouth a little bit even if it was an accident.) At first it made me wonder if she heard any of Ned’s shout-comments before I could turn the t.v. up to cover what he was saying. But I doubt it. Even if she felt the same way, I know her too well to think she wouldn’t freak out more and enough that it’d be noticable. Yeah, no, I’d definitely have been able to tell if she’d heard him saying things like, “Nobody’s saying you have to tell her that you googled the probability of high school sweethearts getting married that time she saved your ass on that Bronte essay, but yeah, Aunt May’s right! Just ask her to come over and either talk to her or do the hair/forehead thing!” Anyway, May’s on board with her coming over a lot this week and next week and giving us some space. So are Ned and MJ. Ned said they agreed on giving us two weeks (starting tomorrow) without them hanging out after school. And who knows, if the dance goes really well, maybe it’ll be normal for us to hang out, just us, without the whole group. Because… well, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself.

I’ll admit, they’re the best friends I could ever have. All three of them.

And it’s nice to have them all here now, Ned to my left and the girls in front of us. It’s even nicer to be outside of class or the city or crazy study sessions and have had a short breather from all that (despite the shitshow before we smoothed things over and could enjoy it). To be somewhere chill together. Yesterday and today probably feel even better because the last few days, or even weeks… no— months, if I’m being honest— have had me in a kind of less than happy place. But that’s over now. We’re all here and things are finally good. I just wish the girls would wake up, especially since Ned’s back on his phone. Again.

Yesterday, everybody hung out for most of the afternoon, but being in the whole decathlon group isn’t the same as just being the four of us. Or two.

Speaking of two— Ned being away during this next week or two is going to make everything so… unfiltered. New. Without his interference and being able to talk to him as often as normal, it’ll mostly just be her and me. Nobody to distract attention or blame stuff on or help me out when I’m doing something dumb (which is often). Like, for example, last night when I maybe let my excitement get the better of me and I might’ve jumped on the bed and thrown a pillow that accidentally broke the lamp on the nightstand. While I don’t really think writing that “Bill Mr. Harrington” note with the school’s address was Ned’s best idea, it helped me not care too much, enough that I didn’t do something dumber like actually tell Mr. Harrington. It might come back to bite us, though. Still, he was genuinely helpful this morning when Flash showed up too.

While we were hanging out in the girls’ room waiting for them to finish packing, there was a knock on the door. I figured it was Mr. Harrington about to yell at me and Ned for the broken lamp, so I motioned to Ned to shut up and move closer to the head of the bed we were already sitting on where, courtesy of the wall between the bedroom and bathroom, he wouldn’t be able to see us as long as he stayed by the doorway. MJ gave us an odd glance before she got up to answer it. Her annoyed, “What are you doing here?” didn’t immediately disqualify Mr. Harrington, but the sound of Flash’s voice saying, “I, uh, brought you guys some muffins,” made me tense at the first syllable.

“The free muffins they give us for breakfast?”

MJ’s dripping sarcasm nearly made me laugh even though I couldn’t see her, but Y/N turning from her suitcase and walking over to join them killed it still in my throat.

“Nope,” he said. “They’re fancy muffins from a bakery a few miles away.”

I wanted to roll my eyes out of my skull.

She may not like him, but that doesn’t mean I was wrong about him being into her. What a dumb way to impress someone. “Fancy muffins.”

“Expensive?” MJ asked. Even without seeing her face, I could tell she was giving him the squint death stare. It’s scary to have to respond to that face if you don’t know what the right answer is.

“Yes, especially with the delivery fee,” he said, sounding prepared for the question, “but they’re from a small local place, not a chain, which I figured you guys would appreciate. Actually, I think you’d like the woman who owns it, she was super grouchy and hard to convince.”

“Convince?”

“They don’t normally deliver at 5 in the morning.”

“Oh, so you thought you could just—”

“What kind did you get?”

That’s one of the things I like about Y/N. She knows how to manage tempers and when to jump in; she has Flash and MJ down to a science. In that moment, though, I wanted MJ to fire her most confrontational questions at him with no mercy.

“Well, they’re all apology muffins—” I heard MJ scoff. Exactly. She gets it. “But I got blueberry, chocolate, obviously, coffee, cranberry orange, maple, I think that one has chicken in it or something, and banana nut.”

Ned and I turned towards each other with silent smirks at the last one. It’s a dumb joke, but under normal circumstances we’d never resist—

“Cool. Since you’ve brought so many, you can come in.”

Sometimes MJ drives me up the wall. This was one of those times.

I mentally took back my agreement with her scoff.

The three of them came into the room, and for a couple seconds, Flash didn’t see us. The girls were closer to the window than they were to the wall and the bed Ned and I were sitting on, and he didn’t look behind him. Until MJ pointed us out directly.

“You can give them some too,” she said, her expression bordering on smug. “Apology muffins, right?”

Flash froze for a second. I straightened my back. Neither Ned or I said anything.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “Of course.”

Surprisingly, he shook his shoulders like a bug just buzzed by his head and walked over, opening a giant rectangle of a box up to us.

“Take however many you guys want.”

I stared at him, not moving. Nobody flinched. Then I realized he was tapping the side of the box with his thumb. Not in an asshole come on, hurry up way, but in an anxious way. Just as I started to reach toward the box, Y/N asked:

“Why’d you get so many of the coffee ones?”

Flash looked away at just the right second.

Did I technically cave first by reaching into the box? Yes. But did anyone see? No.

Although, I guess he technically caved by offering us the muffins in the first place. Ha. All the same, I took a blueberry one.

“They’re my dad’s favorite. I wanted to surprise him, you know? But I can’t even get a hold of.... Um, are your guys’ parents going to pick you up when we get there, or are you actually staying for school?”

“Staying.”

“All of you?”

He looked around to ask all of us, even me and Ned. We all nodded. When he looked at me, though, his eyes twitched. It’s a face I’ve gotten a lot before. He realized he said parents.

“You said these are orange cranberry?” Ned asked, pointing.

Flash nodded.

“They’re solid, though the banana nut ones are probably the best.”

As I said, under normal circumstances, like if one of the girls had said it, I would’ve laughed right then, but I’m not used to laughing around Flash. Ned, who usually follows that same rule, shook his head and grinned, if a little bit... nervously?

“Hell no!” he said, pretending to be mildly outraged. “I’m not eating banana-bust-a-nut muffins.”

A second surprise: Flash tilted his head and paused, clearly as stunned to be told a joke by Ned as the rest of us were to witness it— and laughed. So did everyone else. It was only for a few seconds, like literally three quick seconds, but for the first time for as long as I can remember, all of us were laughing with Flash. It stopped almost as soon as it started.

Tension crept back in soon so he left pretty quickly after that with an awkward, “See you guys in a few.” Thank god.

The girls finished tidying their room and going over the homework that’s due today (which we did last week since we knew we’d never get it done on the trip), before forcing me and Ned into the hallway so Mr. Harrington wouldn’t need to check our room for us and potentially find the broken lamp.

And then, pretty soon, we ended up on the warm bus, loaded in with everyone else. It seemed like everybody but Ned and I were too quiet and sleepy and squinty to be able to talk much before dozing off or staring blankly out the window or scrolling social media on their phones, the latter two options leading to the first in most cases. At this point, I think Ned, Flash, and I are the only ones still awake.

I’m going to work at tolerating him. As long as he doesn’t cross any lines with anybody from now on, I won’t bait him either. (Admittedly, I’ve been guilty of that, especially recently.) I mean, his comment about his dad was hard to miss. And even when he said it, it wasn’t a shock. Everyone in our grade at some point has had to listen to Flash’s rambling excuses for his parents ignoring or forgetting to show up for school events. Maybe being a dick is just hereditary for him. Or a family tradition.

I don’t remember how I got so off track. Where was I before? Oh yeah. Risk. Possibilities. The almost-worst case scenario that turned out not so bad. It’s been a messy weekend with plenty of re-evaluating, but the point is simple: I think I’ve got to give a few new things a try, and I’m excited to have a chance over the next couple weeks.

Next update: God only knows.

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