#she mostly sits around and waits for them in the car and in motel rooms. she slowly opens up. mostly to dean

[toxicanonymity]

it's hard (stepdad one shot)

3k words, stepdad!joel x f!reader

“Can I tell ya somethin'?” He whispers. “What?” You ask. He takes a deep breath. He scoots back, making room for you to roll onto your back and look up at him. His face is serious. He takes off his glasses and reaches to put them on the side table. His eyes are always browner than you remember. 

SUMMARY: You're at their house xmas wk. WARNINGS: I8+ stepcest, angst, pining, fluff, possessive!joel, sneaking around, outercourse, unsafe p in v, mess of cum. reader can sit on him. Mood board is for mood. A/N: Title is an album by The Who.

It’s Christmas week, only a few days after your first time with Joel, and you’re staying at their house. You show up later than you said you would, and Joel has already asked where you are. The truth is, you're nervous. You’re not sure you want to have sex in their house, and you’re also not sure you can resist.  It’s too mortifying to think about getting caught. There are plenty of other places you can do it–your apartment, a motel, a car. You’re trying to be smart and slow down. 

When you show up, your mom’s car isn’t there. Joel is in the kitchen wearing his standard gray joggers, a tight white tee, and socks with coconuts on them. No shoes. He lights up when you walk in. "Hey," you mutter and he replies in kind as you close the door behind you. You survey the living room where there’s a pillow and blankets on the sofa, and you pity him for a moment.  

“Oh,” he goes over to the christmas tree and plugs in the multicolor lights. “Merry Christmas week.” You stand there with your bags, not really sure what you’re doing, or feeling. He approaches you cautiously. 

You look at each other for a few seconds until you're both comfortable that the other still feels the same way. 

“I'll take those,” Joel finally offers. As he takes the bag off your shoulder, he gives you a peck on the cheek. “Good to see you,” he mumbles. His shirt rides up as he slings the bag over his shoulder and you follow him upstairs. He glances back and teases, “Caught ya lookin’.”

Once you make it to your bedroom you ask, “where's mom?” 

“Grabbin’ dinner. Guess we’ll eat when she's back.”  He puts the bags down on your bed and steps toward you. You don’t step away. He gently pulls you into a hug. You inhale his scent as his arms wrap around you. 

The embrace lingers, and you can't ignore the warmth of his mostly-soft package pressing against you. 

You begin to whisper, “I don't think we should. . .”  trailing off when you realize you're not sure where to draw the line. Every second in his arms, you're less and less sure. 

“Okay,” Joel murmurs. He kisses you on the cheek–slower, more tender than his initial greeting. “Whatever you want,” he adds. He presses his lips into your cheek again, and they linger for a moment before he drags them away. 

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, then pull away, cheeks burning as his arms reluctantly loosen and his hands slide down, skimming your sides as you step back. 

“I'm gonna unpack,” you mutter, glancing at your luggage, cheeks warm. 

“Yeah,” Joel scratches one side of his beard. “Okay.” 

One day at a time. Have some self-control. You pull yourself away. 

He nods, looks down, and turns around to leave. His back is sooo broad.  You want to reach out and run your hand over his muscles, but you know you wouldn't stop there.

You lock the door behind him and hope it isn't too offensive. As soon as he’s out, you exhale. You lay down on your bed.  You open your nightstand drawer and your heart flutters at a box with a bow on it, and your name in his handwriting. Under it, there's a new pack of batteries. 

You wonder if he's about to jerk off, but you don't wait to find out. You close your eyes and imagine him coming back through the door, unable to resist.

—------------- 

Your Mom comes home with Thai food and the three of you sit down to dinner together. Your mom makes small talk while Joel makes a mess of the pad thai trying to serve himself. Noodles are dragging behind, tethering the pile on his plate to the main container.  Your mom bristles at this in her peripheral vision. 

“So,” your Mom puts on her best interested face and asks you,“Swipe right on anyone lately?” 

Joel scoffs silently. 

“Not many,” you answer. Every time she talks to you, your heart races like you’re about to walk into a trap. This is your own doing, and you know it. 

“How many guys are on there, anyway?”

“A lot.” 

“Can I see?”

It doesn’t even occur to you to say no. 

You open tinder and slide your phone over. “Just swipe left.” 

Joel’s chewing slows down as he stares at the dating app open on your phone. Your stomach drops.

You hadn’t used it at all this week. You would’ve deleted it if you thought about it, but you’re so used to ignoring the notifications. You look at Joel apologetically as your Mom keeps swiping left.

Joel’s nostrils flare, and his breaths become faster. He swallows and doesn’t take another bite. He taps his chopsticks on his plate. 

“Oh,” your Mom addresses you. “You know who’s single?” She looks up from your phone. Joel takes a deep breath and looks at her with his brow furrowed. 

“Harold, down the street.”

“What the hell would she want with Harold?” Joel snaps. 

Your mom chuckles. “What’s wrong with Harold?” 

Her phone rings. Joel puts his chopsticks down and clasps his hands behind his chair to stretch his back. As soon as your Mom stands up from the table, he leans forward and takes your phone. 

“What’s this about?” he asks flatly.  It’s still open to tinder. His jaw clenches. He looks into your messages. At least he can see you haven’t sent any. 

“I forgot I even had it,” you explain. 

He goes to the home screen. “Good, you won’t mind.” He holds down the app and presses uninstall.

“What else ya got?” he starts scrolling your apps.

He goes on instagram and opens a picture of you in a mildly low cut dress. He deletes it and opens another picture. His breathing is still agitated. 

“Hey,” you reach for your phone. “What the hell?” You take it from his hand. “Are you gonna act even crazier now?” 

His brow furrows and he stares at the table, then meets your eyes and swallows. “I dunno.” His face softens as he looks at you.

Then he gets pensive and asks, “What do you think of Harold?” 

You roll your eyes. “I don’t think about Harold at all.” You pocket your phone and get up from the table. 

“Wait, where ya goin’?”

“Meeting a friend for coffee.”

He’s rubbing his beard like he’s trying not to say anything, but he blurts out, “What friend?”

“Emma. . . Jesus.” 

On your way out of the neighborhood, you pass Harold’s house. It feels like every time you drive by in the daylight, he's struggling to bring some kind of delivery inside - Amazon boxes, or even donuts and iced coffee. Tonight he's sitting at his kitchen table alone, wrapping a present.

—--

When you’re at the cafe with Emma, Joel texts you, Sorry.

It’s ok, you reply. 

It's a struggle not to tell Emma what's going on, but you don't. You tell her you’re seeing someone but don't want to jinx it by saying too much.

When you get home, he’s in the kitchen casually leaning with his butt and hands against the counter.  “How ‘bout some egg nog?” 

“No thanks,” you tell him, but you linger. 

“We good?” he asks, quieter. You nod as you take off your jacket, then put it in the coat closet. 

When you turn around, he’s right in your space. His eyes are red and his hair is messier than earlier, giving you a rush of desire.

“Sorry,” he repeats and reaches for your head.

You don’t pull away.

He cradles the back of your head as he hugs you loosely. You let your hands lightly skim his hips, then wrap around him. It would be a harmless hug in a different family. Until he pulls his head back, then rubs his nose against yours. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, nostrils filling with his aftershave. Then a toilet flushes in the background, and you break apart. 

“I’m going to read,” you mumble. His fingertips skim your ass as you walk away. 

—------------- 

You’re lying in bed later, still reading, when Joel sends you a snapchat. The notification makes you tingle, but when you open it, it’s not him. It’s the TV downstairs with the title card of Krampus. You get out of bed and pad over to your mom's room. You crack the door open, and she's passed out. 

You go downstairs.

Joel is lying on his side on the sofa. You and he are wearing the same pajamas you got for Christmas last year. The Christmas tree casts the room in a dim, cozy light. 

He welcomes you under his arm. Just a little cuddling, you lie to yourself.

Without much hesitation, you settle in as a small spoon so you're both facing the tv. He runs his hand up and down your side before dangling his arm over your waist.  The bulge in his pants is barely grazing you, until you push your ass back and he inhales sharply, then cups your breast, using his forearm across your torso to bring you closer. His nose nudges your neck and you can feel him inhaling your scent. His warm package nudges your ass. It's the first time you've felt him soft, like really felt him. It's still quite a bulge.

He's not soft for long. Soon he’s lightly grinding against you, hard and getting harder as the movie quietly plays. His hand leaves your breast, skimming down your soft pajama top to its bottom hem. His fingers creep under the shirt and when they hit your bare skin, the shock of arousal has you thinking very stupid thoughts. Like, maybe you should ride him on this couch, come what may. You stop his hand from going any further up your shirt. 

His arm relaxes in defeat. 

You gently take his hand out from under your shirt and bring it near your breast, where it was. Instead, he covers your hand with his and interlaces his fingers. His thumb brushes yours at a slow rhythm, and the butterflies in your chest nearly make you forget what you're trying to resist until his cock twitches against you.

He takes his hand back only for a moment to adjust himself, then his hand returns to yours. His arm wraps tighter over you. Against your back, his chest expands with each breath. The rhythmic stroke of his thumb lulls you half-asleep. 

“Can I tell ya somethin?” He whispers. 

“What?” You ask. 

He takes a deep breath. He scoots back, making room for you to roll onto your back and look up at him. His face is serious. He takes off his glasses and reaches back to put them on the side table. His eyes are always browner than you remember. 

“I wanna do this every night,” he says. 

Your heart flutters. You turn on your side to face him. 

“I mean it,” his eyes are somber. He lays his hand on your side. He takes in a shaky breath. “I'm miserable without you.” 

“I'm right here.” 

He shakes his head. “I need all of you.” 

You look at each other for a few seconds in the light of the Christmas tree. There's not much to say. 

“Me too,” you whisper. His nose twitches and he shakes his head like you don't get it.

“What I’m tryin’ to say is. . .I’d ruin my life for you, if it wouldn't ruin yours, too.”

You read each other's eyes for a long moment.

“What life,” you whisper.

His eyes brighten. “That's how I feel.”  His gaze falls to your lips. “We’ll get a new one.” 

You want to kiss him, but don't want to end up naked. First you warn,  “I don't wanna take off any-”  

He cuts you off with his lips. They’re soft and needy. Then his hand runs down your side, over your ass, and his fingers dig into your flannel-clad thigh. You hike your knee up and wrap your leg around him. The hard shape in his pants presses right against your most sensitive place. “Mm,”  you moan softly into his mouth.

You’re throbbing for him. So turned on. His tongue slides against yours and he feeds on your mouth as he grinds against you. His dick is fat and hard and warm.

As you move against each other, pangs of pleasure dart to your nipples, your ass, your chest. He's so hard. Your body flutters on the edge of bliss but stays there. He grabs the plush of your ass, pulling you harder against him. You break the kiss with a gasp, and he latches onto your neck. 

With a push of his hips, he moans into your neck then whispers, “can't wait to be inside you again.” you throb and gush at the thought. He grinds against you a little harder, needier, but just as slow. “Fuck, you feel good.” He rolls over on his back, bringing you on top of him. Then he sits up and lifts your knees so your legs wrap around him and you hang onto his neck.

“God I wanna fuck you like this,” he whispers, holding you against him. His cock swells harder. You're throbbing madly. You card your fingers into his hair and he groans at your fingertips on his scalp. His strong arm holds you against him with his hips lifting under you. 

“Me too,” you whisper, your legs pulling yourself closer, harder. You groan softly. “Want you inside me—fuck, just like this.”

“Can ya feel it,” he asks, “ohhh–cause I still feel it–god–every time I close my eyes.” He moans as his stiff manhood twitches against you. Your clit pulses and you gasp. He covers your mouth with a kiss as you come. Everything else fades away. His lips break away with a shudder as he explodes against you through the soft flannel, pulsing hard. Your chest flutters at the feeling.

When you're both done, he lets you back onto the sofa, and resumes his position on his side. He pulls you back against him with a sigh. You're pleasantly surprised that you don't feel a bigger mess against your back.

“Shit,” he mutters after a minute.

“What?”

“‘s’not your problem.” 

“Say it.” You roll on your back to look at him.

His cheeks flush. “M’not empty.” 

Your heart skips a beat.

“Not your problem,” he repeats, but you’re already pulling down your waistband. Yeah, it’s. . .not a problem at all.

You turn on your side again, facing the tv. You reach back into his pants, and your breath hitches at the mess of cum enrobing his slowly softening dick.

“Do it,” you whisper, and tilt your hips for him.

He quickly notches his cum smeared dick at your entrance, no longer fully hard, but hard enough. He presses on your mound as he plunges into you, dividing your insides with a sigh. “Fuck,” he breathes. Your chest feels light as your body makes space for him. 

You close your eyes as he further stiffens, growing inside you, pressing against your walls. His hand slides up your top. He gropes your breast as he retreats, then bottoms out again. Within a few strokes, he’s as stiff as ever, and you’re as full as ever. 

He pauses, fully seated inside you, throbbing. He covers you both with a blanket. You're relieved there's another one beneath you. He breathes against your ear as his hand meanders under your top again. “Inside?” 

“Yeah,” You nod.  

“Where it should be,” he pants. He moans as he slowly fucks you.

“Want it all,” you beg, getting closer and closer with the tight drag of him within you.

He adjusts his position, sliding his arm under your neck so he can grope you with both hands, hugging you tight against him.

"'s'all I think about," he whispers. "Ungghhh---when I wake up---ohh--when I go to sleep."

He moans softly and his hands feel you greedily, "whenever you're ready."

“Fuck,” you whisper. He buries himself in you slow and deep. His breath is hot on your neck. You push back on him, swallowing every inch he’ll feed your drooling cunt. He buries his mouth and nose against your head. The Christmas lights are blurry in the corner of your eye.

“Feel so perfect,” he pants. He rubs your clit and you still his hand. He withdraws part way and pauses with his tip nudging just the right spot. He just barely rocks his hips, staying right there, rubbing over it, not letting up.

You gasp and tighten with tension, then sigh as you gush on him.

“Yeah,” he pants, presses your mound for leverage, and bottoms out as you choke his cock.

He sighs and begins to pulse with even more power than you remember. A huge burst of warmth, followed by a smaller twitch, another massive burst, a slow thrust. It keeps coming, and so do you. His breaths are heavy against you, his stomach flexing into your back as he empties his load. You're overflowing with cum. Your climax wanes, and he's still pulsing even once he's dry.

It finally stops, and he rests inside.

-

You catch your breath, and the smell of sex hangs so heavy in the air that dread bubbles in your chest. You pull yourself forward, letting his cock fall out.

“Shit,” you mutter at the mess between your legs. You pull your pants up. He squeezes your hip affectionately as you sit up.

He sits up on his elbow and tucks away his worn out cock. He takes a deep breath and searches your eyes.

You don't know what to say. You reach back to feel the blanket – soaked. “This is. . .we can’t do this again.”

He whispers your name, sits up and rests one hand on your back, one on your thigh. His chest is heaving like he's waking up from a nightmare. “What happened,” he whispers. “Talk to me.”

“Here. We can't do this here.”

He sighs and swallows. “Okay,” he whispers. “Sorry.”

“You know how to use the washer, right?”

“Yeah. I've got it. Of course.”

You take off your pajama bottoms.

“You okay ?” He asks.

You nod. You yearn to lay with him, but you’re also compelled to leave that room.

You read his face and the worry on it makes your heart hurt.

“It's okay,” you whisper, then kiss him good night. It's a long, soft kiss, and he doesn't want to let you go. “It’s okay, I promise,” you assure him.

You creep up the stairs pantsless. The air is cool on the cum between your thighs until more warmth trickles out.

You clean up in your bathroom and hear the washer turn on downstairs. You can't get his pitiful look out of your head. You send him a chat when you get back in bed: Good night ❤️.

Sweet dreams ❤️🤟, he replies.

—---

----

----

Thank you for reading!

PSA - The main story to stepdad is over, and I don't commit to another arc of them, but the AU is still open for one shots, asks, HCs, whatever I get inspired on. Basically I want it to be more casual without expectations.

There will be another post this month, because I already wrote the smut.

@silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @rainstorms-library @nervousmumbling

#stepdad!joel #stepdad!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #toxicanonymity ☠️ #tw stepcest

[queerstudiesnatural]

i'm not the first one to say this but. what if dean had run into emma in purgatory. i can't think about this too much rn i can't handle it but. what if

#he hears a noise behind him and turns around with his machete in hand ready to behead a monster and it's. his daughter #and she's looking at him with wild inhuman eyes and her hair is a mess and she's all bloody and she's just standing there #staring at him with pain and hate and fear and confusion all over her face #and he's still holding the machete so he slowly puts it down and holds his hands up because holy shit that's his daughter #''emma? is that- do you-'' fuck he can't think right now that's his DAUGHTER #''do you remember me?'' #and emma is still just staring and her lips are curled but she's not moving. not attacking. #and before he can think about it dean is pulling her against his chest like ok it's ok i'm not gonna hurt you we're ok #and they just kinda stay together. even though emma is still not saying a word #the first time she speaks to him is to warn him that vamps are approaching. then to say she's hungry. #then to ask who benny is and why dean is teaming up with a vamp. when he hated monsters so much he killed his own daughter #and dean freezes and he's like ''i'm. i didn't-sam-i'm so sorry emma. you-i guess you deserved a chance and i-i'm sorry'' #and then they don't speak again for a few days or weeks #but they stick together and when they finally leave purgatory emma leaves with them #finding emma's body is a drag because he barely remembers where they buried her #but he does and emma mumbles a thanks and she goes to leave but dean is like hey where are you going? #you're coming with me. i mean...if you want. i- you could stay. please. #and emma has nowhere to go really so she does. seeing sam again is kinda traumatic and she growls at him and she never stays alone with him #she mostly sits around and waits for them in the car and in motel rooms. she slowly opens up. mostly to dean #she still doesn't trust sam. and one day they meet claire again and she likes claire. she talks to claire. she laughs with claire. #slowly she becomes a person again. she learns what she likes and doesn't like. she watches tv. she eats burgers and adds seasoning #bc dean has no taste. she finds clothes that feel like her. she doesn't call dean dad until one day she does and dean almost passes out #but then he's holding her close like holy shit that's my daughter. i'm a dad. holy shit #anyway that's the sort of thing i like to think about. for fun #rain posts #supernatural #deancore #emma supernatural #emma spn #dean and emma

[winchester-girl67]

The Long Way Home (Part 2)

Summary: Some road closures and flooding takes the reader and the boys on a detour prolonging their drive home. She gets to know them a little better and starts to think they're hiding more than they let on, but they might not be the only ones.

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Shy!reader 

Word count: 4,249

Warnings: tornado aftermath, language, angst, kissing/cuddling, fluff 

A/N: Here’s part 2. Enjoy...

_____

The storm really did a number on the rest stop, roof shingles were littered across the parking lot and trees were snapped in half, leaning against the power lines and ready to give at any moment. Probably the reason why there was still no hot water or electricity in the room when you woke up. 

It was rough on Baby too, hail the size of golf balls left their mark in the windshield while the rear window was shattered completely by a tree branch so large that Dean had to enlist in the help of his brother and the motel clerk just to remove it. There were a few dents as well and some debris had left only one working headlight, but it was nothing that Dean said he couldn’t fix with time and the right tools. Still, you could tell he hated seeing her like that, she was his Baby, which you came to realize is what he affectionately called his car. You refused to admit that you were a little jealous of a car. 

Your clothes were mostly dry by morning, so you changed back into your jeans and tee, though you kept on Dean’s purple flannel. It was soft and warm and your jacket was still a little damp from the night before; so, you figured he wouldn’t miss it. 

After a few temporary fixes to Baby, you were on the road again, stomachs growling. Dean mentioned getting breakfast but without power to the only dining establishment around, you’d have to wait until you got to the next town over and hopefully they hadn’t been hit by the same storm. You sat in the backseat this time since you were still a little sleepy and Sam didn’t look like he was in the mood to be scrunched up back there. 

There was only so far you guys could get on the highway before you were detoured away from the first overpass which was filled with debris and an overturned tractor trailer. A number of other routes were flooded out as well, according to the radio and the only other way around would take an extra couple of hours to get through. This certainly was going to be the long way home, but you didn’t mind all that much with the company you kept. 

The steady flap of the plastic covering the shattered rear window was muffled by the sound of the wind rushing by; the engine purring and lulling you to sleep in the backseat of Baby. Dean smiled, glancing in the rear-view mirror at you slumped over on the door, cheek pressed up against the window as you rested your eyes. His gaze not going unnoticed by his little brother sitting next to him, Sam giving him a dubious look. Dean wasn’t easily taken with a girl, not like this, not the way he was acting head over heels for you and it made Sam a little worried. 

You were passed out in the backseat of Baby, at least that’s what the guys thought as they spoke in hushed tones in the front seat, trying not to wake you. The truth was you never really could fall asleep completely in the car, not since you were a child and you could tell that they were trying to hide something from you. The sound of wind and plastic flapping drowned out most of their conversation and though you weren’t intentionally trying to eavesdrop, that's exactly what wound up happening when their voices raised slightly. 

"It's along the way, what's the trouble?" Said Dean, his voice was a little deeper, gruffer. 

"I just don’t think it’s a good idea." His little brother shrugged, shaking his head. 

"What did you want me to do, Sam? Leave her on the side of the road in the middle of a tornado or maybe back at that motel- I remember the clerk really liked her, did you see the way he was checking her out this morning?!" Dean growled and you thought you caught a hint of jealousy in his tone; though, you hadn’t noticed the clerk looking in your direction at all. 

"All I'm saying is that you're not responsible for her, man. You've known her for less than twelve hours and you're already acting like you're in-" 

"Shut it, Sammy." Dean snapped, rubbing the scruff on his chin, glancing in the rear-view mirror to make sure you were still asleep. "She was scared and I was comforting her and now I'm driving her home, that's all." Your heart sank a little at that comment and you wished you could actually fall asleep so you wouldn't have to listen to anymore. 

"I'm just saying you're acting like a jealous, protective boyfriend when chances are you'll probably never see this girl again once we drop her off in Lawrence." Sam bit his cheek, he knew he was just telling his brother everything he already knew. 

"You don't think I know that, Sammy. Just one time I'd like to be selfish and actually get close to somebody, like her. Last night, it was like nothing else mattered, it was just us." Dean said, glancing between his little brother and the road. "Don’t I deserve to be happy, if only for an hour or two, huh?" 

Dean had been in low spirits lately, just going through the motions and he did deserve to have something good or someone good, like you. Sam knew he deserved that for more than a couple of hours too, but he didn't want Dean getting his hopes up just to get squashed later. He knew the feeling Dean was describing and how the weight of their life could drag you down; but he also knew what it was like to lose someone to it too and he'd be damned if he didn't try to protect his big brother from a pain as deep as that. 

"I know but, Dean, would you really drag her into all of this- this life?" What did that mean? Suddenly, contract work seemed a little shady to you. 

"Course not, but it doesn't mean I can't take her out to dinner." Dean argued, knowing it was probably for the best if he didn’t. It wouldn’t end at one dinner and he knew that. He sighed heavily, Sam reaching over and squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. 

"The apple pie life just isn't in the cards for us, you know that better than anyone, De-" 

"I got it, Sam. Enough, okay." He shushed, watching you stir awake in the backseat. You really just couldn't listen to them anymore, it made your heart ache and your head hurt. 

"Hey," you yawned, playing it up a bit and stretching out your arms. 

"Hiya, sleepyhead." Dean smiled, locking eyes with you in the rear-view mirror for a moment. "Sorry, this is taking so long, the storm damaged more roads than I thought and we've had to detour quite a bit." Nothing that you didn't already know. 

"S'okay, I don't mind." You shrugged. 

Despite everything you’d just heard, you still felt safe with him, even if you knew he was hiding something and you weren't sure about his feelings for you. You knew better than to just call him out on it though; the last time you did that, you wound up on the side of the road in the middle of a tornado. 

You still thought it was a little odd your brother never doubled back for you that night. Sure, you definitely had your fair share of arguments, but neither of you were really cruel enough to dump each other off in the middle of nowhere. Especially since you wouldn't even rank that fight in your top ten. 

You stared out the side window of Baby, golden fields of wheat and corn whipping by for the second hour in a row, stretching as far as the eye could see. It was hypnotizing and you caught yourself almost falling asleep, your head actually nodding and bumping into the glass. You rubbed your forehead, glancing over at the guys who looked the other way; thankful they hadn't heard and your embarrassment went unnoticed. 

"We're coming up on the state line soon, you guys wanna grab some grub in Kansas city?" Dean asked, glancing back at you, you hummed along with Sam. 

You were starving and as much as you were exhausted from travelling, you didn't mind spending more time with them. With Dean. You weren't in any rush to get back to your brother's house either, since you were currently staying with him while your apartment was being fumigated for mold. 

"Sweetheart, you okay? You're kinda quiet today." Dean questioned, you could see how his brows furrowed in the mirror. 

"Yeah, just thinking." You sighed, leaning your head back against the window. 

It was half true, you worried about how things would play out when you got home and you weren't exactly sure what you were getting yourself into with these guys. You found yourself having feelings for Dean after last night, how could you not; but still, you barely knew him. Though, despite your hesitations, they didn't strike you as bad guys and so far had treated you better than your own flesh and blood. 

"About?" He glanced back for a moment, his green eyes glowing with the way the sunlight hit them. 

You couldn't tell him the truth, not the whole truth, so you thought for a moment. You wondered if he'd kick you out of the car like your brother did, if he knew you had eavesdropped on them earlier. Somehow, you didn’t think so, but you didn’t want to press your luck for the time being either. 

"My brother, I guess. I’m supposed to be staying with him this week but after yesterday, I’m not sure I want to.” You said. 

“Not to pry, but what happened between you guys?” Sam questioned, turning in his seat and resting his arm over the back of it. 

“He broke up with his girlfriend of five years, which isn't like him. I know he loves her, I even helped him pick out the ring he was going to propose with. And when I asked him about it, he wouldn't give me a reason. That's why we fought, 'cuz I wouldn't let it go." You explained, seeing a sign pass by that read 'Kansas City ahead 10 miles'.

“Sounds like somebody else I know, who can't let things go.” Sam chuckled, nudging his brother in the shoulder. 

“Watch it, Sammy.” Dean growled, giving Sam the best bitch face you’d ever seen. 

"Geez, lighten up, Dean. It was a joke." He taunted, nudging Dean again, a little harder this time. 

"I swear, one more time and I'm pulling this car over." Dean warned, side-eyeing his little brother. 

"Are you guys always like this?" You laughed, a grin spreading across your face. 

"Usually he'd hit me back by now, but he's trying to make a good impression." Sam chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows, Dean glaring at him. "Do you have a good relationship with your brother?" 

"You mean, when he's not tossing me out of the car on the side of the road in the middle of a thunderstorm." You ranted. "Actually... yeah. Yesterday was a little out of character for him." 

"What do you mean out of character?" Dean questioned. 

"Uh... unusual, unlikely, not normal... out of character." You teased, you couldn't let Sam have all the fun. 

"You're hilarious." Dean said, rolling his eyes and biting back the smirk tugging at his lips. 

"I try." You grinned at him through the rear-view mirror. 

"Sure, you don't get mad when she does it." It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes. 

"It's cute when she does it," he shrugged, smiling.

You sat forward, wrapping your arms around Dean’s shoulders from behind in a poor attempt at a hug. He seemed to appreciate the gesture though and squeezed your arm with a large hand. His palm resting on your forearm for a moment, thumb brushing over your skin underneath the rolled up sleeve of his flannel shirt that you wore. His eyes never leaving the road ahead. 

"I think you're cute, too." You pecked his cheek, Dean's face turning all shades of red before you released him and leaned back in your seat. 

"He's adorable," Sam smirked, batting his eyelashes. This time Dean did smack him. "Ouch," Sam frowned, rubbing the back of his head. 

"Sweetheart, seriously, how off has your brother been acting and for how long?" Dean asked. 

"I dunno, just the past couple of days, he's been a bit grumpier and more irritable. Kinda like he's got PMS." You joked dryly, scrunching your forehead a little. "Why?" 

"Have you noticed any odd smells lately?" Sam chimed in, turning in his seat again to face you. 

"Um, not really... Oh, I guess his car kinda stunk on the way home. Does that count?" You questioned with a shrug. 

"What did it smell like?" 

"Y-you guys are starting to creep me out." You stuttered, twiddling the hem of Dean's flannel between your fingers and avoiding eye contact for a moment. Suddenly aware of how little you knew about them and feeling uncomfortable in their interrogation. 

"I know it makes no sense, Y/N and maybe there's nothing to it, but please, just indulge us." Sam said, giving you a soft smile and a look that resembled a puppy-dog. Oddly, it did make you feel more at ease. 

"...rotting eggs, I suppose, but we just passed a cow farm at the time." You explained, Sam and Dean sharing a knowing look that confused the hell out of you. "Geez, is this some sort of kink I don't know about?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood. "What is it with you guys? Now you're acting weird." 

"Y/N-"

"It's probably nothing." Sam said to his brother, effectively cutting him off. 

"Uh-huh, yeah. Cow shit typically isn't so fascinating where I come from. You guys are from Lawrence too, right? That's where you're headed?" 

"Lebanon, actually," Dean answered before Sam could interrupt him again, he was tired of lying to you and he didn’t see the harm in telling you. "So, it's not far, but we were born in Lawrence." 

"Wow, two guys from Lebanon should definitely not be that intrigued by cow shit. Which leads me to think you guys aren't in the farming community and I don't know too many contractors that travel for work out of state regularly. So, what is it that you guys really do?" You paused, neither one of them caring to respond, which annoyed you to no end. "What? You get to ask all sorts of questions and I don't?" 

Dean opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but never found the right words. So, he chose to keep quiet instead, as did his little brother, who eventually turned away from you. Yup, here it was; you were going to get yourself kicked out of yet another car for the second day in a row. Why couldn’t you just keep your big mouth shut, you thought. You were either incredibly shy around them or bold to the point that you made things awkward, there was no in-between. 

A couple of minutes later, Dean took the off ramp into Kansas City. Only speaking up to ask if the diner he pulled into would suffice. It was a late lunch by the time the food came and it was uncomfortable with the lack of conversation, to say the least. You felt bad, these guys were sweet, even paying your way back home and so what, they wanted to keep a part of their life private from someone they had just met. What was wrong with that? Just because you were feeling a little uneasy and mostly towards your brother, if you were being honest, that didn't mean that these guys didn't have the same doubts about you. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to- Your business is your own, I was just deflecting. Can you guys talk to me again?" You pleaded, pushing around the fries on your plate. 

"Sweetheart, look, our line of work is dangerous and we generally just don't like talking about it. We wanted to make sure that we aren't leaving you in a bad situation when we get to you home, is all. Are we good?" Dean questioned, giving you a sheepish smile. 

You nodded, continuing to nibble at your food until Dean stole a fry from your plate, eliciting a giggle from you. You pushed his hand away when he tried again a minute later. The rest of the meal was quickly filled with more teasing and laughter. You really did like hanging out with them and kind of hoped there was a longer way home. 

You were making your way back to the car after lunch, when Dean grabbed your hand and pulled you in the opposite direction. Sam, who was behind the both of you, rolled his eyes playfully and continued walking towards the car. 

"Dean?" You questioned when he came to a stop behind the diner, staring out at the open field. 

"Check it out," he whispered, pointing up at the sky with his free hand. 

There was a large murmuration of starlings swooping and spiralling together in dazzling formations against the bright blue sky. You could hear the rustle of their wings in the wind as they changed directions once more. 

"It's so beautiful," you breathed, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing his large palm. 

In contrast to the way the sky came alive the night before, it really was a spectacular sight. The way they flew amongst the clouds that could easily change into something truly alive at a moment's notice. There was an ocean above you, you thought and perhaps, just as unpredictable as the real thing. 

"Mhm, it is." Dean was looking at you. 

You noticed, unable to bite back a smile as your cheeks flushed. You turned to him, quickly leaning in on your tiptoes to peck a chaste kiss to his lips before you lost the nerve. 

Being so afraid of the storm last night, you really allowed yourself to be close with Dean. The kissing, the comforting touches, they were something out of instinct and necessity, but now, out of the storm's shadow, you were reverting back into that shyness. Or was it butterflies; you weren't sure, it had been so long since you felt something like this for another person, maybe even ever. 

"You're sweet." You said. 

"Not if it's true," he wrapped an arm around you, turning you and pulling your back against his chest; his chin coming to rest on your shoulder and his arms snugly around your waist. You sighed in contentment, laying your hands on top of his as you spent a few more minutes watching the birds. 

When you eventually made your way back to the car, Sam was standing around outside talking on the phone, invested in what seemed like an important conversation. Though, he seemed to cut it short when he spotted you, for whatever reason. 

"Who was that?" Dean asked, your hand linked together with his. 

"That was Garth, he- uh, has a job for us." Sam said, clearing his throat. 

"Thought you wanted some time off?" Dean frowned. 

"This one's in our backyard, so I told him we'd take care of it." Sam explained, giving you a sidelong glance. 

Dean nodded his head, clearly understanding whatever it was Sam wasn't saying in front of you. You decided to let it go, knowing that they were uncomfortable talking about their line of work. Even if the curiosity was eating at you. 

You all settled back into the car and set out towards Lawrence. Sam took the backseat this time saying he wanted to stretch out, but you thought he was just trying to be nice and let you sit next to Dean. Since, he saw the way you two came walking back from behind the diner, hands entwined and Dean bumping your hip with his as his eyes crinkled with the brightest smile Sam had seen his brother wear in a long time. His own heart ached and he didn't want to take that away from him, even if it would only last a short while longer. 

It took about another hour to make it to Lawrence. Somewhere along the way you had kicked off your boots and laid your feet in Dean's lap, leaning back against the passenger side door. His free hand rubbing soothingly over your calves and down to your toes, tickling the underside of your feet every now and again to draw your attention. 

Sam had talked your ear off for a good half hour, telling you stories about Dean when they were younger. Dean protested every time one of them included something he considered to be embarrassing, which was often and he would offer you equally humiliating tidbits about Sam. 

You cringed when you saw the sign stating that you were entering Lawrence. You weren't ready to say goodbye to them, especially Dean who you felt a strong connection with. It was easy with him, almost like you'd known him for years and Sam was quickly becoming a close friend, making it even more difficult to part ways. Just being there in the car with them, travelling and talking; it felt natural. 

"So, where are we dropping you, sweetheart?" Dean asked with a sad smile, you thought maybe he felt the same pang at the notion of you leaving them. You could hope, at least. 

"My brother's house isn't much further." You said, directing him down a couple of streets, reluctantly pulling on your boots. "Why do I feel like I'm never going to see you guys again?" You asked when he pulled up in front of your brother's house. 

Dean left Baby idling with that low rumble you'd grown to love the sound of. You all got out of the car to say your goodbyes, Sam ruffling your hair before slipping into the passenger seat to give you and Dean some privacy. 

Dean didn't say anything, he just grabbed your shoulders and pulled you in for a firm hug. His arms tugging at your waist, molding your body against his for a long minute. Then he kissed the crown of your head and pulled away. 

"I'll call you." He murmured, his green eyes searching yours and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you, but then he backed away. 

"Yeah? 'Cuz you still owe me that dinner." You teased, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. 

"I will," Dean nodded. 

"Liar. You don't even have my number." You huffed, glaring at him and crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, sucking in a breath and stepping back towards you.

Dean cupped your cheek with his palm, his eyes were a little glassy when he rested his forehead against yours. His thumb swiping over your lips, trying to erase the frown you wore. He needed to make a clean break and if he had your number he would call, no question. You didn't need to be a casualty just because he couldn't control his feelings, but you did deserve a proper goodbye. 

He dipped his head and tilted your chin up slightly so his lips met yours. It was slow and soft at first, quickly turning heated and needy when you parted your lips for him. His tongue sliding between them to taste and explore your mouth. You shivered when his hand slid around your waist to rest on the small of your back, the other still cupping your cheek and guiding the kiss. 

You didn't want to break away from him, you had this sinking feeling that Dean would drive off into the sunset and you would never see him again. That wasn't what you wanted and he seemed to feel the same, but something kept him at a distance. Probably whatever that phone call was really about and for some reason, Dean let it get between you. 

Eventually, the need for air was too great, your lungs burning and forcing you to pull away from him. His hot breath fanning over your flushed, kiss swollen skin, mixing with yours as you panted, trying to catch your breath. 

"Be good, Y/N." His hand fell away from your cheek and you opened your eyes as he turned away from you. 

You stood frozen in place as Dean opened his car door and slid back in behind the wheel. Dean locked eyes with you for a final moment before Baby started to roll away from the curb and he stepped on the gas. 

He glanced back at you once more in the side mirror from down the street, then turned the corner and the old muscle car was out of sight; though, you could still hear the rumble of the engine echoing in the distance. 

Dean was biased, he knew that by the way he felt for you. So, maybe it was nothing but he couldn't shake this feeling that something was off, that he shouldn't have left you behind. 

"Be safe, Winchester. We'll meet again... I’m sure of it." You said, trying to convince yourself and hugging his purple flannel around your waist before you spun on your heel, jogging up to your brother's front door.

_________________________

A/N: Read Part 3 here

_________________________

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #spn #one shot #the long way home #series #the long way home part 2 #part 2

[ninyard]

more stefan/andrew au? the last one was fucking amazing

(following on from pt 2 kinda following canon a lil bit but imagining their relationship panning out earlier than it did in the series? Fab)

Part 1 / part 2

-

“Andrew?” Neil was woken up by Seth’s pissed-off, tired moan. “Get the fuck out of here, you fuckin’ freak.” Neil heard the rustling of covers and Andrew’s footsteps coming into the room. “Yo, hey, are you deaf?!” It’d been a couple days since the incident in Columbia, and Andrew and Neil hadn’t really spoken since then. Coach had tried to get them to make up when Neil came back to his apartment, but his attempts futile. They’d only had a short conversation before Andrew got bored and left. All Neil got from Andrew’s lot since then was hostility and cold shoulders. Now, in the middle of the night, Andrew was breaking into the room of the three people he actively seemed to hate the most. Neil pretended to sleep, until he felt weight on the rungs of the ladder on his bed, and hands on the back of his T-shirt. Andrew practically pulled him off the bed, immediately waking him up from any bit of sleep he had left in him.

“Car. Ten minutes.” Andrew didn’t lower his voice for Neil’s half-asleep roommates. “I don’t like waiting.”

“I don’t care.” Neil retorted back in a hushed voice. “Leave me alone and let me sleep.” Andrew got real close to Neil’s face. The dim light of the moon outside the window showed Andrew unsmiling face. He was presumably sober, and Andrew sober was a much scarier sight than him being medicated and violent.

“Ten minutes.” He repeated again, matching Neil’s volume, hazel eyes burning a hole through Neil’s natural blue. Andrew put a finger to his lips and switched to German. “This is the only chance you’ll get.”

Neil had almost forgotten he’d spoken to Andrew in German in Coach’s apartment. He was startled at the sudden language change, and obliged when Andrew finally left the room. He got dressed underneath his covers as best he could, and decided against putting in his contacts, before jumping down off the top bunk.

“Bring that monster around here one more time and you’re moving out.” Seth groaned, but fully meant what he said. He turned around to face the wall and through the muffle of a pillow, Neil heard him say, “Now fuck off.” Matt, sleeping like a rock, was snoring on the other side of the room, totally unphased and undisturbed by Andrew’s swift entrance and exit.

Andrew was alone at his car when Neil pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands in a desperate attempt to stay warm, the door of the dorm building shutting behind him. It was freezing outside, and Neil hadn’t realised it was literally the middle of the night until he saw a clock in the hallway reading an early 3:54am. The wind blew leaves across the parking lot with a whistle and a rustle, the dry fall leaves swirling around like tiny twisters on the tarmac. The campus was silent, on the night of a weekday, so Neil didn’t expect anyone to be out. Yet here Andrew was, leaning on the bonnet of his car with a cigarette between his lips, smoke quickly disappearing in the biting wind.

“You never answered my question on our little night out.” He spoke through the smoke, as Neil approached closer. “We’re going for a drive.”

“Do you ever sleep?” Neil’s voice was groggy from his own interrupted sleep. Andrew didn’t answer, instead flicking away his cigarette and sitting into the drivers seat. Neil walked around to the passenger side and sat in. When he tried to warm his hands on the hot air Andrew had blowing through the air-con, Andrew turned the heat off. Neil was sure if Andrew was medicated he would’ve laughed, but he instead opted for watching the road as they drove in silence. Neil sat back and tried his best not to fall asleep. His head bumped about on the headrest as they drove, and every time his eyes started to close, his sleep cycle begging him to come back to rest, Andrew would snap his fingers in his face or lay a punch down on his thigh. After a short drive, they pulled up into the empty lot of some National Park Neil didn’t know the name of. He was too tired to pay attention to the signs, but figured Andrew wouldn’t bring him to a park to kill him or let him go. Andrew was a man of truth when he wanted to be; He wanted to know why he was on the run and Neil didn’t have the energy to argue.

“Why are we here?” Neil asked at the same time Andrew said “What brought a runaway to Oakland?”They both paused for a moment, but Neil knew Andrew wasn’t going to answer his question until Neil answered his.

“It was the first place she wanted to stop.” Neil spoke through a yawn. “The others before there made her too paranoid. It was the first time she felt like she could close her eyes and actually sleep without feeling like she was…” He thought about his words for a moment. The last conversation they’d had, he told him he was on the run, but Andrew already knew that. Neil thought he’d got through to him by giving him half-honesty, telling him his parents were dead. He never brought up Riko, or his family, instead choosing the option of trying to appeal to Andrew’s inner child, who remembered Stefan. It was a stupid choice, and Neil knew that the second he chose it. “She could sleep without feeling like she had a target on her back.”

“Did you kill her?” Andrew said it so casually it felt like murder was something so normal, like eating lunch or going for a walk. Like asking if he killed his mother was just like asking if he liked the taste of garlic, or if he was having a good day.

“No,” Neil answered. He’d been thinking about what he would tell Andrew about his life since he seen him in Arizona. Who was he before Oakland? Where did they go? Who was he running from? “Riko’s family did.”

And suddenly Andrew was interested. His face was a mixture of disbelief and boredom. Neil told him his manufactured version of the story; that his parents were killed by the Moriyama family, and that they’d been on the run since the execution of his Father. He kept out the part about the Butcher of Baltimore, or the fact that he was actually still alive, but Andrew’s mind was at work as Neil told the story. If he didn’t look awake before, he did now. Neil spoke for an hour, maybe less, maybe more, flowing from story to anecdote to answering questions that Andrew slipped in whenever he wanted. Neil answered it all with mostly-truths, redacting the stuff Andrew simply didn’t need to know. Neil was a runaway, his family were in some bad business, but Neil was the only one left.

“I really didn’t think you could get any more stupid, yet I am constantly surprised.” Andrew tutted as he shook a cigarette out of the packet, into his hand. He rolled down the window on his side and smoked out of it, seemingly unbothered by the wind that just blew the smoke back into his face. “You knew who I was, but you knew Kevin too? How forgetful do you think people are?”

“I don’t know,” Neil told him honestly. “I just- We were so young. I met Kevin years before I met you. I just didn’t think I was important to anyone.” Andrew laughed a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all. It was the sound of dismissal, as though he didn’t believe a word that spilled from Neil’s tired lips. “I didn’t think I’d ever be particularly memorable or mean anything to anyone. That was the most important thing to my mom.”

“What, being unimportant?” Andrew didn’t look at Neil as he spoke.

“Being forgettable.” Neil sighed, thinking about his mother’s words that had been drilled into his head. If you’re too interesting, you’re asking to be killed. Be boring. Be normal. Be forgettable. “You fucked that up for me.”

“See, you keep blaming me,” Andrew shook his head as he took a drag from the cigarette that had been half-smoked by the wind. “I didn’t fuck up your life, Abagnale, you did.” Neil didn’t get the reference, but he didn’t ask either.

“I don’t mean it’s your fault. You didn’t do anything,” Neil tried correcting himself. “I couldn’t help it when I was around you. And all I could do every second of my days after Oakland was blame you because I couldn’t deal with the fact that I let you in. Everything I learned, everything I’d done, you came along and turned the place upside down because I just had to know you. I had to.”

“Why?” Andrew looked at him with that same uninterested look he usually had, when a medically-induced smile wasn’t spread across his cheeks. “What made me any different to the hundreds of other kids I’m sure you met on your travels, hmm?”

“You were real.” Andrew scoffed. Neil frowned at that and shrugged his shoulders. “We’ve been through this. Don’t waste my time getting to know me if you just want me to run. You want me to get lost in the park, is it? Is that why you brought me here?”

“Nothing better than some honesty with a view.” Andrew tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “How do you expect me to trust you when you’ve spent your whole life a liar? Be mad if you want, but I’m much less gullible now, you see. Once a liar, always a liar.” Neil sent Andrew a look as he hovered his hand over Andrew’s. When he just stared at it, Neil brought Andrew’s hand up to his collarbone where was a small, raised, pink scar sitting just above it.

“The motels phone.” Neil spoke quietly, as if Mary would hear, as if she was waiting to jump out from behind the car to take him and beat him again for letting his guard down, for being unforgettable. “It was the first thing she could grab when we got into our room. I never told her your name, and she beat me harder for it. I never wanted to let her anger ruin your name.” Andrew dropped his hand from Neil’s grip.

“Pretty unintelligent to take hits for someone you thought you’d never see again.”

Then Neil said, “I knew I’d never forget you.” Andrew tensed up at the almost-promise, and the memories came flooding back for Neil like a tsunami sweeping over every other thought he had. “I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.” Neil almost reached out to touch Andrew before he remembered the boundary Andrew had set that night in Columbia. Neil didn’t have a right to touch him anymore, and he knew Andrew noticed as Neil’s hand lifted and then hesitantly fell. “Tell me something I don’t know about this Andrew. I’ve told you my life, tell me yours.” He gestured to Andrew, sat across from him with an almost-frown on his face and a thinking mind hard at work.

“This Andrew doesn’t give a shit about what answers you think you deserve.” He looked Neil up and down. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Why doesn’t Nicky know you’re gay?” Neil asked, instead of waiting for him to come up with something himself, it was much easier to get honesty from Andrew by prompting him. Neil watched as his jaw tensed for a second, thinking about the answer.

“Nicky is too involved in being the gay cousin to un-assume.” Andrew barely lifted his shoulders in the form of a shrug. “He hasn’t asked.”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“I don’t ‘come out’,” He brushed off the thought with the flick of his wrist and a roll of his eyes. “I don’t fuck women in my spare time. Who cares?”

“Yeah, sure, but-” Neil had started to speak when Andrew cut across.

“At least I’m out to myself,” He nodded towards him. “You, on the other hand? Was it just Stefan who was into it or is the unnamed you just in denial?”

“I’m not, like…” Neil hated the sexuality question. It was confusing and messy and Andrew and Andrew and Andrew. “There was no one after you. It’s only been you.”

“By choice or by mothers hands?”

“Neither. Both?” He wasn’t sure how to answer. “The foxes are the first people I’ve let get somewhat close since then. That’s the truth. I haven’t wanted to. I’m just not interested in anyone.” The except for you part was silent, but he knew Andrew had somewhat heard it when he sat back, one hand on the steering wheel, the other arm resting on the door, as he took a deep breath that he tried to hide. Neil wasn’t even sure he was still into Andrew like that, because they were so young, after all. Andrew was still experimenting, and they never spoke about those kinds of feelings. They were friends who kissed each other because they wanted to know what it felt like. They kissed each other because maybe they thought they liked it. Maybe they’d have to do it again just to be sure. But that was so long ago, and so much had changed. Neil had had a crush on that Andrew, but this one? He wasn’t so sure. This one was harsh and mean, angry and unmoving. This one had been hard-boiled by life and wasn’t going to crack any time soon. He didn’t know if he felt things anymore. He didn’t know if Andrew was capable of a crush, or a kiss, or a simple, electric touch of fingers to skin.

Without a word, Andrew had switched on the ignition and idled the engine for a moment before pulling out and starting on the drive back to campus. Neil didn’t say anything else, he only rested his head on the window and watched as the morning sun slowly lit up the night sky, the dark navy blue taking over the black sky so slowly it was hardly noticeable.

He had pulled into his usual parking spot not long later, still not looking at Neil or speaking at all. He stayed still in the drivers seat after switching the engine off. Neil took that as his cue to leave. Matching Andrew’s silent treatment, he got up and shut the door without a word. Andrew had rolled down his window again, another cigarette already stuck between his lips. He watched as Neil walked around the car before he tapped the outside of his door twice to catch his attention. Neil spoke before he could.

“Give me a chance.” The wind blew his hair off his face, reminding him how cold it was, and why he should’ve worn a jacket. “Let me stay. I don’t have anything else.”

“Don’t be fooled into thinking I trust you.” He hung his hand out the window finally looking Neil in the eyes again. “It’s a matter of time before your egg timer runs out. Make use of it while you can.”

“I’ll bury Stefan forever, if you ask.” Neil offered in payment for the sudden change of heart in letting him stay, in cleaning his hands of the idea that Neil was after Kevin, or that he was a threat. “Say the word and we start fresh from today.”

“I don’t care,” Andrew took a long drag, one that felt like it was centuries long, like the sun would be up by the time he finished. He blew it out and raised his hands. “Kill what wasn’t real. Prove to me what was.”

Neil wasn’t sure what that invitation meant, but he didn’t ask Andrew to keep speaking. When they broke eye contact, he knew then Andrew wanted him to leave. Neil didn’t look back, heart racing, practically ready to burst out of his chest by the time he reached his dorm room. He opened the door as quietly as he could, careful not to disturb his peacefully sleeping roommates, and he crawled back into bed to try get some sleep before the practice scheduled for the morning. Instead of counting sheep, battling restlessness like a fight for his life, he thought of Stefan. He thought of the heart of Nathaniel that had gotten wrapped up in his blond hair and tiny frame. Neil fell asleep thinking about who he used to be, and what parts of that were real. What parts could he keep? His mind spent its last morsels of energy on dissecting Neil Josten, to make him feel a little more real.

The next time they saw each other outside of practice was when Kevin started coming to find him late at night to go to the court and practice together. Neil realised quickly he was going to become a night owl as a Fox, but it still took him a while to adjust to the late nights and early starts. But him and Andrew kept their distance; they didn’t speak if they didn’t have to, and their conversations were kept to a line or two each. They played their first match of the season, and Andrew had sent out shots for Neil like they were capable of working together. Then there was Kathy Ferdinand’s show, at which Andrew had hands all over him, holding him back from killing Riko on live TV. He had made a deal to protect Kevin, and then he was being psychically held back from doing so. Neil did what he couldn’t, and stood up to Riko, a conscious effort to gain his trust, to prove he was on the side of the foxes. Then there was that touch, that simple, light, barely-there touch, and Neil knew he’d won. He’d earned Andrew’s trust, at least for a moment, but that was all that mattered.

When Andrew ever-so-kindly reminded Neil later that Riko would find out about him, the original “Neil”, as easily as he’d strolled onto that stage to sit across from Kevin, there was no choice but to run. He couldn’t imagine any other option. His entire body went into fight or flight, and he struggled to sit still as Andrew held his collar and told him to stay.

“Why?” Neil asked, throat dry, hands shaking, after Andrew offered him protection for the year if he promised to stay. It was funny to imagine, as if there was anything he could do against the actual, guns-blazing, internationally dominating mafia. “Why would you help me?” Andrew laughed, and just about caressed Neil’s jaw in the most non-affectionate way possible. Neil felt his touch leave blood on his skin, but he didn’t flinch. Andrew was manic, and didn’t care. He looked as if he didn’t even feel the pain of a glass-shattering punch, and was actively enjoying the chaos that the morning had brought with it.

Andrew didn’t give him any sort of an answer until later that night, when he stepped into Neil’s space and told him to remember the feeling; Neil couldn’t run anymore. He had given his word to Andrew that he would stay, and as much as he had started to hate the Present-Day-Andrew-Minyard, he trusted him as a man of his word. Neil had killed the parts of Stefan that were untrue; all that was left was the real emotion he felt when he looked at Andrew. He was an asshole, but he was Andrew, and Neil trusted this five foot blond boy with his life. Perhaps it was crazy, perhaps he was officially, undeniable, finally signing his name on his death wish, ticking down the hours until his past caught up. Whereas running was his old line of defence, his current one was Andrew. Andrew was an unlit fire suddenly gaining embers, and Neil knew it was dangerous to let that fire grow. Especially when Andrew leaned over in Eden’s, crackers on his tongue, a drink in his hands, and whispered in German;

“Mommy’s not here to hurt you anymore.” Neil snapped his gaze towards Andrew, who was coming up on his high, speaking to Neil but watching the crowd on the dancefloor. His breath at Neil’s ear sent shivers up his spine, goosebumps on his arms. “My hands are open to have your back. Give it to me this time.”

#idk if this is bad #I can’t be subjective about my own content anymore #straight up I’ll delete it if someone tells me it’s bad lmao #andreil #Andrew minyard #Neil josten #andreil au #tfc #aftg #the foxhole court #all for the game #aftg fic #tfc fic #as per usual send an ask if u want more/have a specific Andrewstefan prompt

[icefire149]

30 and destiel?

Hi Sam! Thank you soooooooooo much for this one. This was incredibly fun to write. It ended up a bit longer than I planned, but I hope you enjoy it <3

#30 - Too quick, mumbled into your scarf

“Dean, you really should come inside. It’s too cold.” Cas stopped at the nose of the impala. He rested a light hand right above the driver’s side headlight.

Sighing, Dean turned his attention away from the night sky. He’d been leaning against baby’s door for a while, watching the clouds roll in. “That’s a bold statement from someone who doesn’t get cold.”

Cas rolled his shoulders back a bit, standing up straighter. His head tilted questioningly. “I still remember vividly what being too cold felt like.”

Dean visibly winced at that. “Okay.” He raised his hands in surrender, but his fingers felt wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Cas closed the distance between them. His eyebrows pinched together.

“Nothing, just got too cold….I think.”

He wrapped his hands around Dean’s. “Hence, why I suggested you come inside in the first place.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean rolled his eyes with a huff. He could feel Cas’ grace flowing through every atom of his being, shielding him from the cold. “You’re always right. Thanks mom.”

Exasperated, Cas shook his head, but he pulled their hands an inch closer. He gently turned Dean’s hands over like he was inspecting every cell of skin. A soft smile tugged at the corners of Cas’ lips. “Jokes aside, much like your mother I did build this body with my own….well, more than two hands, but you get my point.”

Dean curiously leaned forward. “Dude, how many hands do angels normally have?”

“That’s not important.” Cas lowered their hands so they rested at their sides, but he still didn’t let go. He gave Dean’s hands a squeeze instead. “My point is that it would be a shame to ruin my hard work with frostbite.”

And then, Cas withdrew his hands and the chill of the autumn night flooded into Dean’s bones like a broken dam. His brain felt momentarily scrambled, but he wasn’t sure if it was from Cas’ words or the absence of his touch. Before he knew it, Dean was ushered inside the motel room.

The lock clicked behind them and Jack sat up. He’d been laying in the center of the bed farthest from the door. “Sam called. He said that him and Eileen are aiming to meet us tomorrow if the weather isn’t too bad. Did it start to snow yet?”

“No,” Dean shook his head disappointed. “Soon though. I could feel it in the air.”

“I’m surprised you could feel anything at all,” Cas mumbled while he crossed the room to sit on the corner of Jack’s bed.

“Enough already.” Dean kicked off his boots and flopped onto the other bed in their double. He knew that he needed a shower to ideally warm himself up, but for now this was nice. “How much snow do you think we’re gonna get?”

“I can look that up right now,” Jack answered eagerly. He reached for his phone on the nightstand.

“You don’t have to,” Dean said, staring up at the ugly, stained ceiling tile. “What’s your gut instinct? I’m thinking 3 or 4 inches. Nothing too much, but enough to blanket everything in white when we wake up.”

Jack put his phone down on his lap. “Oh, this is a game.” He turned to his dad. “Castiel, what do think?”

“I-uh, I don’t know.” He stood up and walked over to the window. Everything still looked the same, but he wouldn’t be shocked if it did start to snow any minute now. “I’m hoping it’ll be a dusting. Neither of you packed for snow.”

“Well ya win some and ya lose some. It happens, and besides Jack’s too much angel to let a little snow stop him.”

“Thanks,” Jack smiled. He picked his phone back up and laid back down on the bed.

Dean rolled to his side to face Cas. He raised an eyebrow. “See. No big deal.”

“You really should pack for these kinds of situations. At the very least you should keep some hats, gloves, and scarves in the trunk.”

A small chuckle escaped Dean. “No one’s bundled me up that much since...well, my mom.”

The volume of his voice lessened enough that Cas stepped forward and cautiously sat on the bed’s side. “Do you still remember much of it?”

Dean shook his head, and then rolled onto his back. He couldn’t look at Cas while he searched his memory. “I’m not even sure if it’s real….or a dream I latched onto as a kid.” His voice fell to a hushed tone.

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s not much.” Dean closed his eyes. Mostly he could see her smile. It was like she held their whole family’s supply of happiness in that smile. “I remember seeing so much white that I wasn’t sure if I could remember green anymore.”

There was a light chuckle above him. Dean cracked an eye open and caught the fond smile hooked on Cas’ face. The angel darted his gaze away, and Dean snapped his eyes shut again. His skin started prickling with heat.

“Mostly,” Dean continued after clearing his throat. “I remember her winding a big scarf around my neck and then my face. And then….how nice it was to keep my face hidden from the cold.”

“It was like she was wrapping you up in her love,” Jack mused out loud.

Dean’s whole body stiffened. Somehow he’d forgotten his presence. Slowly, he turned to peek over at Jack.

He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular. Jack’s eyebrows were furrowed. “I don’t have….I, um...do you think my mom would’ve done the same?”

Something tightened in Dean’s chest. It was hard to remember sometimes that Jack was still just a little kid. Hell, he was probably the same age as Dean in the memory he was recalling. His bottom lip twitched. “Yeah, kid. Of course.”

-

“Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean, wake up.”

He opened his eyes to see Jack staring out the motel window. “Whaaat?”

With a wide grin, Jack looked at him over his shoulder. “It snowed. Come look!”

Dean kicked the blanket off and pulled himself out of bed. Stiffly, he stopped next to Jack and saw the entire parking lot buried under a few inches of snow. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you think it’s enough to build a snowman?”

“No,” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. He went back over to his bed and sat down. “I mean, maybe. Don’t know if it’s the right kind of snow.”

Jack turned to face him. He frowned.

“When we’re back at the bunker, you can build a whole army if you want. Okay?”

And just like that, Jack was beaming. He went back over to his side of the room and busied himself with his phone.

Dean glanced around the room. His head still felt fuzzy from sleeping. “Where’s Cas?”

“I don’t know,” Jack answered, not looking up from his phone. “He left a note saying to wait inside until he got back.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean got ready for the day. He was tying his boots when the motel door opened, letting an icy gust into the room.

“Sorry, that took longer than I expected.”

Cas stopped in the center of the room. Dean’s eye couldn’t help but stare at the single plastic bag in the angel’s hand. His eye then trailed up to the new piece of clothing around Cas’ neck: a scarf. It was orange and red with ugly, giant pom-poms at either end.

Jack excitedly flew out of the bathroom at the sound of Cas’ voice. “Where did you go?”

With a soft smile, Cas handed the bag to Jack. “I thought I’d pick something up for you.”

“Thank you,” Jack answered running his hands across the scarf he pulled out of the bag.

It was red and purple, and Dean couldn’t look at them a second longer. Clenching his jaw, he exited the room and regretted it immediately. The air was cold, and his hands were already sore thinking about all the ice he was gonna have to scrape off of baby.

He’d just gotten the brush out of the trunk when he heard the crunching of footsteps approaching.

“You left far too quickly.”

Dean tried to smile, but his mouth felt wrong. He shrugged. “Felt like you and the kid were having a moment. Besides I really need to get baby ready to go.”

Cas sighed, and his head tilted to the side. “I know, but….” He started to unwrap the scarf from himself. His eyes didn’t leave Dean’s for a second. “you didn’t wait for me to give you this.”

“You don’t need to give me your scarf, Cas.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth pulled until the faint glimpse of white could be seen. Blinding, like all the snow and ice surrounding them. “This isn’t mine. I bought it for you.”

Dean blinked.

“Luckily, I had a feeling-” Cas began. He looped It around Dean’s neck. “that you’d be out here digging the car out-” He carefully wrapped it again, and again. “before I got back. So-”

Cas adjusted the fabric in places so Dean could squish his face deeper into the fabric for warmth.

Already, only Dean's eyes and the top of his head was uncovered. He could smell the familiar scent of Cas' favorite coffee order as he breathed in.

“I figured that I’d warm it up for you.”

Dean felt unable to speak. Like his tongue wasn’t made for making sounds anymore. The scarf’s warmth sank into his skin and the only thought coming to mind was that: Jack was right. He was never more grateful than he was in that moment for that scarf obscuring the shape of the next three words his mouth took.

Ask me more writing prompts (I’m using these as warm ups so can’t guarantee the speed I post in)

#my writing #spn

[rowyn-writes]

Confidence (Jack x Reader)

Warnings: Fluff, strong language, arguing siblings

Pairings: Jack Kline x Winchester!Reader

Characters: Sam, Dean, Jack, Castiel (mentioned only,) Claire (mentioned only.)

Word Count: 2124

Summary: You start to notice that Jack tends to stay by your side whenever he can.

Requested by: @nancyangel​

Part Two: Dying From a Broken Heart

You sat in your room in the bunker, casually reading on of your many books that lined your walls. You were a bookworm, much like you older brother, Sam. You liked being by yourself with your books and a cup of coffee, as cliche as it sounds.

Right now, you needed an escape from your world and into another one where you know how everything ends. Your half brothers, Sam and Dean we're currently trying to figure out a way to get their mother back from apocalypse world.

You were John's daughter, being the youngest Winchester there was. Along with being the baby of the family, your brothers were over protective of you.

Most of the time you weren't allowed out on a hunt, so you stayed in the bunker and helped with lore and things like that while Sam and Dean would do the hunting.

Lately, however, you were getting more involved, much to your brother's dismay. You loved Sam and Dean with all your heart, but they could be overbearing at times.

You closed your book when you heard a knock on your door. "It's open." You called.

Jack popped his head into the room. "Hey, Y/n. Can I come in?" He asked.

"Sure." You nodded.

Jack took a seat on the chair that sat in front of your small desk. "What's up?"

"Sam and Dean are going on a hunt and I was wondering if you were going?" This was news to you. You're had no idea that your brothers were going on a hunting trip.

You frowned as you go up off your position on the bed. "Now I am." You said, getting your bag ready. "You coming too?"

"Yes." Jack nodded. You told him to finish packing while you did the same.

"Going somewhere, gentlemen?" You asked just as Sam and Dean were about to walk out of the bunker.

Dean let his head fall as he sighed. "You're not coming."

"The hell I'm not." You snapped.

"Dean's right." Sam agreed. "You should sit this one out."

You let out a frustrated grunt. "C'mon. Why are you still treating me like I'm twelve? I'm almost 22."

"You're not ready, Y/n."

"I'm not ready?" You scoffed. "But you let Jack go, and technically, he's barely three months old."

"That's different." Dean said.

"How?! How is that different?! I grew up hunting with you guys and Dad, I know what to do!" You argued.

"It's different because you'll die if something happens! Jack has powers and can defend himself! You don't!" Dean hissed.

"This is ridiculous!" You huffed.

"Maybe next time, Y/n." Sam gave you a smile, which you didn't return. "Alright, Jack!" Sam called out. "Let's go!"

Jack appeared beside them in a second, making you jump slightly. "See you later, Y/n." Dean said. He looked like he wanted to give you a hug but decided against it, because you might knee him in the groin if you had the chance.

"You're not coming, Y/n?" Jack asked, seeming disappointed.

"Apparently not."

Jack seemed to hesitate by the door. "On second thought, I think I'll stay here. You guys don't really need my help, do you?"

Sam and Dean seemed surprised by his change of plans. Jack had been wanting to go on a hunting trip with them for a while. "I guess not." Sam said. And with that, they were gone.

"Why didn't you go with them?" You asked Jack. "You've been wanting to go on a hunting trip with them for a while, so why did you back out?"

"I thought you could use the company." He shrugged.

.

. .

. . .

Sam and Dean returned about two days later, clearly pleased that you and Jack had stayed at the bunker. You had thought of finding you own case, maybe even hunting with Claire, but decided against it.

But that doesn't mean you still weren't pissed at your brothers. They kept treating you like you were five, when you were 21. It was infuriating. That's why you were determined to find a case.

"Hey, so look what I found." You said, holding your computer up to your brothers. "Five people dead. All found without their hearts. However, there was six victims. One survived. If we can find out who's killing these people, we can put down the son of a bitch."

"Where's this happening at?" Dean asked gruffly.

"Little Rock, Arkansas."

Dean nodded his head. "Okay. Sammy, pack your things, Y/n, send us the address. We'll call you when you get there."

"Wait a minute." You protested. "You said that I would get to come with you on the next hunt! This is the next hunt."

"No."

"No?"

"No. You're not coming."

"Oh come on!" You yelled angrily. "You have got to be kidding me! You promised that you would take me out on the hunt!"

"I never promised." Dean reminded her. "I never make promises I can't keep. You know that."

"You're being ridiculous! C'mon Sam, back me up here." You looked over to the man, giving him pleading eyes.

"I think Y/n's right Dean." He agreed. "We've seen what she can do, handling a werewolf or two isn't anything she can't handle."

Dean frowned, looking back and forth between you and Sam. "I'm not gonna win this argument, am I?"

"Nope."

"Fine. Go pack your things. Tell Jack to do the same." You nodded, calmly walking away. But as soon as you were out of sight from Sam and Dean, you gave a tiny squeal and did a little dance.

"Are we celebrating something?" Jack asked from behind you, making you jump slightly.

You gave him a big smile. "That we are, Jack. Sam and Dean are letting us go on a hunt! So pack your bags, we leave in an hour!"

You quickly packed your bag full of clothes and other essentials and put them in the trunk of the Impala.

Jack sat in the back seat with you; it was only logical, since Sam was the Jolly Green Giant and could barely fit back there.

While you loved the Impala, you did not love the kind of music that played constantly. As Sam once put it, "It's the greatest hits of Mullet Rock." So you had brought your phone and a pair of earbuds.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked curiously.

"Listening to music."

"But Dean has music playing?" He furrowed his eyebrows, making your heart soar at his cute little scrunched up face.

"Yeah, well, Dean and I have very different tastes in music. Here, listen to this." You gave him the other earbud you had.

Jack seemed to like your selection of music, as he grinned as the song played on. After a while of driving, your legs began to cramp. Whether you were tall or short, being in the back of the Impala for a long time did nothing to help your legs.

You tried to find a position where you weren't invading Jack's bubble, as not to touch him because you didn't know how he would react.

"You can stretch out your legs." Jack said, as if reading your thoughts. "I don't mind." You gave him a grateful smile as you rested your legs in his lap.

About four hours in, you began to doze off. Car rides were always relaxing to you, seeing your surroundings blur as you sped past, feeling the Impala rock beneath you, and being able to spread out in the back seat.

Although, you couldn't count how many times you had to disinfect the back seat because of your brothers. Mostly Dean.

You were woken up rather unpleasantly by Dean. You had been leaning against the door of the Impala when he yanked the door open, causing you to tumble out of the car. "Thanks for the awesome wake-up call, dick." You growled.

"No problem, fuck-face." He grinned as he helped you up. You grabbed your stuff and checked into your motel room.

It was like every other motel you've ever stayed at, rock hard beds, ugly wall patterns, and a small box T.V.

You went ahead and changed into your FBI clothes, a light blue button down shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans, matching boots and a blazer. "You boys ready?" You asked, exiting the bathroom to see all of them had changed into their uniforms.

You all piled into the Impala once more and headed to the local police station, and then to the hospital.

.

. .

. . .

You had found out nothing. There was no victimology, no connection, nothing. You figured there wouldn't be a pattern, it was a werewolf, after all.

You did know, however, that the werewolf was a Purebred, as the moon cycle didn't line up with the victims deaths.

And the surviving victim was a fifteen year old girl. Thankfully, she hadn't been bitten. But she was in so much shock that she couldn't remember her attackers face.

"Poor girl." You commented, shrugging off your blazer. "She's never going to be the same."

"She'll learn to cope." Dean assured you. "Okay, so Jack and I are gonna go to where the bodies were found and dig around a little, you and Sam stay here and see what you can find out about this town. See if there's any kind of pattern with the killings."

"Actually, could I stay here with Y/n and help her?" Jack asked.

Dean looked taken aback slightly. "Uh, yeah, sure kid. Sammy, let's go." Once the two brothers were in the car, Dean looked over at Sam. "Jack has a crush on Y/n." He frowned.

Sam snorted. "Okay? And you couldn't tell that before? I kinda thought it was obvious."

Dean cuffed Sam. "Alright, Captain Jack-ass. I was just saying maybe we shouldn't leave Y/n and Jack alone."

"Oh, please." Sam scoffed. "Nothing's gonna happen."

You got out your laptop and sat on one of the beds. You noticed that Jack was watching you from the couch. It was obvious be wanted to say something.

"Hey, Jack?"

"Yes, Y/n?" He looked excited to see that you engaged in a conversation with him first.

"How come you wanted to stay behind with me?"

"Oh, did you want me to go with Dean?" Jack seemed disappointed.

"No, no. That's not it!" You assured him quickly. He looked extremely relieved to hear that. "I was just curious. On the last hunt that Sam and Dean went on, you decided to stay behind with me too. And whenever I go out to grab food or something, you always come with me. I love your company, so please don't take that the wrong way. I was just wondering."

Jack thought over your words for a few moments before answering. "I don't really feel confident around anyone. Sometimes I feel like another burden onto Sam, Dean and Cas. But with you, I feel like I'm not judged."

"You're not judged by any of us, Jack. You know that." You frowned.

"I know that, I just can't help but feel that way sometimes. But things are different with you. I feel confident and safe, like I can be myself whenever you're around. I enjoy being around you, Y/n."

You felt your heart melt at Jack's words. You felt exactly the same way about him. While growing up, you never really had boyfriends, just a one night stand here and there (which your brothers definitely didn't know about.)

"Jack." You started. "Do you see me the same way you see Sam and Dean?"

"No. It feels different. I can't really explain it. It's like. . . When I'm with you, I can feel my heart start to beat faster, and my palms get kind of sweaty. I don't do that when I'm around Sam and Dean." He explained.

You smiled as you realized what he was saying. "Jack, I think that means you have a crush on me."

"Crush you?!" Jack looked startled. "I would never hurt you!"

"No, no, no! That's not what I meant." You sighed as you tried to break it down to him. "It means you really like someone, but not as a friend. Kind of like a boyfriend or girlfriend."

Realization dawned on Jack as he soaked in your words. "Then can I be your boyfriend?" He asked eagerly.

You gave a small laugh. "Yeah, you can." You kissed him on the cheek. Jack's face became pink under your gaze.

"Could I kiss your lips?" You didn't answer as your lips brushed over his.

"Does that answer your question?" He nodded happily as a smile formed on his face. He felt happy and safe with you standing in front of him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I was thinking about making a part two? Tell me what you think!

#dean winchester imagine #sam winchester imagine #castiel imagine #gabriel imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #jack kline imagine #jack kline x reader #jack kline x winchester!reader

[hotchnisslovechild]

Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn

Rating: E Fandom: Big Shot Pairing: Marvyn Korn/Holly Barrett Word Count: 7900 Tags: 18+, Explicit Sexual Content, Only One Bed, Sharing a Bed, PWP, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Post S1 Summary: Away at a team camp, Holly and Marvyn have to share a hotel room.

AO3 Link or read below!

It was a 2-hour bus ride to Westmont College. Well, for Holly and the girls that is. Marvyn decided to drive to the team camp separately. He loved being with the girls and Holly, but 2 hours on a small bus all together? He would much rather enjoy some “Marvyn Time” and drive by himself. It worked out well that way actually; Holly and Marvyn needed their own car to drive to and from campus back to their hotel nearby. The girls were staying on campus, all paired up in dorms. Staying in dorm rooms was a hard pass for Holly and Marvyn, mostly Marvyn. Holly wouldn’t have minded staying in a room on campus but given the choice between sleeping on a hotel-quality, queen-sized mattress or a dorm-quality, twin-sized mattress, she’d pick hotel every time. Marvyn just flat out refused to sleep in a dorm. He loves hotels. Hell, he tried to live in one until his daughter moved in with him. People change his sheets and make the bed for him. There’s complimentary breakfast. What’s not to love about hotels?

Holly could not wait to get off the bus after those 2 hours. One thing about teenage girls is that they love to gossip. Holly witnesses it every day at school, but none of it really ever pertains to her. These girls usually just chat about boys and other girls, but Holly’s ears always perk up when she occasionally overhears the girls talking about their teachers to one another. It’s fun to hear what they think about her colleagues, but sometimes she fears she’s the subject of gossip amongst these girls when they are anywhere else in the school that isn’t Holly’s classroom.

That fear came true on that bus ride when she overheard the girls whispering at the back of the bus. The subject of those hushed words? Holly and Marvyn. It was a big bus, but not big enough. From the front of the bus, Holly could hear just about every word those girls whispered back and forth to one another in the back.

“Emma told me they go out for drinks and dinner all the time,” Destiny murmured to all of the girls leaning into the bus walkway.

“But isn’t she like his only friend?” Louise joked, getting some giggles from the other girls.

“I’m thinking they are a little more than just friends, if you know what I mean,” Samantha mumbled.

Mouse smacked her knee from the seat across from her. “Sam!” she gasped.

“What?” Samantha asked, “You don’t think those two could be hooking up?”

“I’d prefer not to think about that,” Mouse answered, hating the idea of her coaches doing it with each other.

“Guys, what if they are in the same hotel room for this camp?” Olive suggested, feeding into Samantha’s theory. “Maybe that’s why they didn’t want to stay in the dorms.”

Destiny let out a loud gasp at Olive’s suggestion and proceeded to be slapped and shushed by Louise for being too loud. They would all be dead if Holly could hear their conversation.

They had no clue that Holly could actually hear everything they were saying. And she was mortified. Her and Marvyn? What was it with these girls and starting rumors about who’s she’s dating? First, it was Felix, now it’s Marvyn. Sure, she goes out for drinks and dinner with Marvyn a lot. So what? Friends can go out for fun. Not only are they friends… they are colleagues. It’s always been strictly platonic and professional between them, and Holly plans on keeping it that way.

When they finally arrived at Westmont around 9PM, she helped the girls find their dorms and settle in while she waited for Marvyn to get there. Once he got there, Holly said goodnight to the girls and told them they need to get up for the scheduled team breakfast at 8AM in the main campus dining hall.

Marvyn didn’t even bother getting out of his car to say “hi” to the girls once he got there. He texted Holly telling her to walk out to his car, and to hurry up so they could get settled at the hotel.

Holly didn’t say a word during the 10 minutes it took to get to the hotel. Her face was still hot from overhearing the girls suggest that she and Marvyn were a thing. She could feel Marvyn’s curious gaze on her in the car, but she avoided his glances by staring out the window, thinking about a certain thing the girls unknowingly put into her head. Her stomach tightened as the thought of sleeping with Marvyn consumed her mind for the duration of the drive.

Holly started to second guess everything Marvyn did for her. When they got to the hotel, Marvyn rushed to open the door for Holly and get her suitcase out of the back seat. Is that what friends do? Is he just being nice? Holly asked herself, feeling like she was going a bit mad.

Walking up to the front desk, Marvyn greeted the receptionist. “Hi, I have two rooms booked under Korn.”

Holly watched as the woman behind the front desk punched keys on her keyboard. The receptionist started typing faster than before, almost frantic. Holly had no idea it was that hard to find a room reservation.

“Hmm,” the woman started, “I don’t see a reservation under that name. Could it be under a different name, perhaps?”

“Are you sure? Did you spell it right? It’s K-o-r-n. Korn,” Marvyn said, growing impatient. He just wanted to go to sleep. They had a busy few days coming up with the camp, and he needed to be well-rested if he was going to beat all of the other Southern California basketball teams at the camp.

“I’m afraid I don’t see a reservation for you, Mr. Korn.”

“Marvyn, don’t you have the confirmation in your email? You can pull that up on your phone,” Holly suggested, hating that they were causing the receptionist any trouble.

Marvyn pulled up the email confirmation on his phone and held it up to the clerk. “Here’s our confirmation number and reservation details. We have two queen-sized rooms. Three nights.”

The woman pulled the phone toward her, taking a closer look at the email. “Sir, I think there has been a mistake.”

“How could there be a mistake? The confirmation and details are right there,” he snapped, pointing at his phone. Holly elbowed him for snapping at the poor young woman.

“These reservations are for the Holiday Inn Express in Ventura. You’re at the Holiday Inn Express in Santa Barbara.

Holly looked at Marvyn in disbelief. Ventura was almost a half-hour away. She didn’t want to have to drive all the way there and have to commute 30 minutes to and from Westmont for 4 days.

“Well shit,” Marvyn muttered under his breath. This is why he doesn’t stay at anything less than 5-star hotels. This never would have happened if Holly just let him book two rooms at the Hotel Californian. But no, they were “too expensive and luxurious” for only staying 3 nights and spending most of their time at Westmont.

“Do you have two rooms available here?” Marvyn finally asked the woman.

“We’re pretty booked up. I’ll have to check what rooms we have available for 3 nights.”

“You better have some rooms because—”

Holly elbowed him again, sending him a glare that could kill. She turned to the clerk. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, “We’re sorry to cause so much trouble.”

“Oh, you are no trouble at all. It happens more often than you would think, “ the receptionist said as she typed away on her keyboard. Her face sunk. “I’m sorry but all we have available for three nights is one room. It should have two queen beds, but I’ll have to double check—”

“We’ll take it,” Marvyn interjected. He didn’t want to be standing in that lobby any longer. And he certainly did not want to drive all the way to Ventura.

“Marvyn,” Holly turned to him concerned, “We can’t share a room.”

“Well, you can find a ride to Ventura because I’m sure as hell not driving all the way over there.”

This was exactly what she didn’t need right now. She could hardly look Marvyn in the eye after hearing the girls speculate about them being in a relationship. How could she share a room with him? Everything about this was just mortifying.

She sighed. “Fine. I guess it’s not that big a deal” She took one of the keys the woman set out in front of them.

Holly’s jaw dropped to the floor when Marvyn opened the door for her to walk into the room. She could not believe what she was seeing. Was there seriously only one goddamn bed? Just when she thought this couldn’t get any worse.

“Now you have to be fucking kidding me,” Marvyn said when he finally walked through the doorway, carrying both of their suitcases. “I thought she said it would be two queens.”

“Well, you did cut her off and take the room before she could double check,” Holly retorted, clearly annoyed. She walked further into the room, setting her purse down on the polka dot armchair. The room was fairly big and had a great view of Santa Barbara.

Marvyn followed her into the room, still dragging their luggage along. Holly could still hardly look at him, so she busied herself with looking around the room.

“Did you want the bathroom first?” Marvyn asked coolly, breaking the awkward silence that settled in the room.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. I need to wash up after sitting on that old bus for 2 hours. I’ll be quick,” Holly said as she opened up her suitcase to grab her pajamas and toiletry bag. She practically ran to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

She set her bag and pajamas down on the counter and took a deep breath. How does he seem so unfazed by the giant bed-shaped elephant in the room? Holly thought as she stared at herself in the mirror. The fact that the receptionist “gave him the wrong information” seemed to affect him more than the fact that they were sharing a room and possibly sharing a bed. That is, if he doesn’t do the gentlemanly thing and offer to sleep on the floor or the chair. She sure as hell wasn’t sleeping anywhere besides that bed.

Holly was prepared to be in the comfort of her own room, so all she packed for nighttime attire was a pair of skimpy blue sleep shorts and a tank top. That would have been fine had things gone as planned and she had a room to herself, but Marvyn was going to be seeing a lot of leg, a lot more than would be considered appropriate. She shoved the thought out of her mind and got changed.

After she finished up washing her face and brushing her teeth, she knocked on the door. “Are you decent?” she called out from the bathroom.

“Yeah, you’re good to come out,” Marvyn responded. Holly took a deep, sobering breath as her hand hovered over the doorknob. She wished she could tell herself it’s just one night, but it’s three nights. He’ll take the chair or the floor, I’m sure, Holly tried to reassure herself.

When she finally mustered the courage to walk out into the main room, she’s stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing Marvyn. It took everything in her not to stare at him perched on the edge of the bed dressed in green boxers and a plain white undershirt that hugged his torso. She averted her gaze and quickly crossed her arms in front of her as she walked to her suitcase, a failed attempt to hide her hardening nipples. She wished she could blame it on the cold air in the room, but it’s really just from seeing Marvyn so… undressed. She hated the girls for putting the idea of them together in her mind. Yes, he’s a very attractive man, but she’s never thought about him in any sexual way. Now, it was nearly all she could think about, thanks to the girls. She was in deep shit.

And Marvyn was completely fucked. He hoped she didn’t notice him practically gawking at her when she came out of the bathroom, his eyes caught on the sight of her hardening nipples through her thin tank top. And those shorts. They were sinful is what they were. She was showing off more leg than he could handle. He was used to Holly wearing tight athletic clothing at practices and games. He knew she had a great body. But seeing her so bare made his mind run wild. He watched as she bent forward to put her clothes back into her suitcase. Her shorts were so damn small he could just barely see the black lace panties she was wearing underneath. He tore his eyes away. What the fuck is the matter with me? He scolded himself, thoroughly disturbed by his sudden sexual urges for his friend – his colleague. Now half hard, he finally excused himself to the bathroom.

I’m a man. I can’t help it, he repeated to himself over and over as he stared at his reflection. He couldn’t go back out there like that. The best he could do was will his erection away. There was no way he could discretely “take care” of it with Holly just several feet away.

He brushed his teeth and splashed his face with cold water, trying to distract himself from images of Holly’s legs and the swell of her breasts. As much as he wanted to sleep on that damn bed, getting in bed with her was no longer an option. He would have to offer to sleep on the chair or the floor.

Still half hard, he sucked in a breath before exiting the bathroom. He saw her sitting up on the right side of the bed reading a book. “I’ll sleep on the chair,” he announced.

“Are you sure?” Holly said out of courtesy.

“It’s either that or the floor. Which do you think I should choose?”

 “Whatever will hurt your back less, old man,” Holly joked, the banter coming back to them both easily, temporarily distracting them from the sexual tension that’s built between them in just one night.

“Don’t make me share that bed with you,” he said with a cocky smirk.

“Sleep on the chair. Maybe you will snore less sitting up.”

“I don’t snore,” he countered, slightly offended by her assumption.

“Yeah right. Just sleep on the chair. Keep the snoring to a minimum.” She went back to reading her book. She silently cheered that he offered to let her have the bed to herself. After her inappropriate thoughts about him that night, she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep her hands to herself if he hopped into bed with her.

He grabbed a pillow from the bed and tried to make himself comfortable in the big polka dot chair. “Am I good to turn off the lamp?” Holly asked once it seemed Marvyn got in a comfortable position.

“Yeah,” she heard him grunt as he shifted once more.

Close to 30 minutes went by of more shifting and grunting from the chair on the other side of the room. There was no falling asleep with how noisy he was being. She couldn’t tell if he was genuinely uncomfortable or if he was trying to get her to pity him and offer to switch places or let him sleep in the bed with her. “You good over there?” she whispered into the darkness of the room.

“Just fine,” he responded, feigning sincerity. It was probably the most uncomfortable chair he had ever sat in. It was lumpy and stiff, making noise with every move he made. Not to mention, his cock was still hard, his mind ridden with inappropriate and unprofessional thoughts of Holly

Holly hated what she was about to say next, knew she was probably going to regret it, want to take it back. But she really needed some good sleep tonight, so she went for it. “Just come sleep in the bed, Marvyn. You are driving me nuts with all your moving around.”

“You’re just trying to get in bed with me, aren’t you?” he teased, knowing that would push her buttons.

“Shut up, Marvyn. We’re both adults. We can share a bed without it being weird. Unless you would rather sleep on the floor?”

He didn’t even respond. He got up from the chair, holding his already sore back. God, am I really an old man? He said to himself silently, thinking about Holly’s joke from earlier.

“Just don’t hog the covers,” Holly said as she turned her back to him. She felt the mattress dip beside her, and a twinge of panic rose within her, her heart started to race. She hadn’t shared a bed with a man in a very long time. And it’s been even longer since she’s gotten laid. She shook the thought out of her head. She was absolutely not getting laid tonight. She was in a bed with Marvyn for Christ’s sake. He’s both a friend and a colleague. They couldn’t afford to ruin that. And did she really want to fuck the same man that Ms. Goodwin has? God, no.

Marvyn was wide awake. The twitch of his cock in his boxers was starting to get somewhat painful. He really shouldn’t be this goddamn horny; it had only been a couple months since he and Maggie were having sex. Granted, they only did so a few times. It took a lot longer than he expected to get past 2nd base with her. Something about “wanting to take it slow” and “doing it right”. Oh, he wanted to do it all right. Maggie was the first woman he’d been with since his ex-wife, and making the bald man cry each night wasn’t as satisfying as he hoped it would be. He wished he could fist himself right then and there, desperate to get rid of his uncomfortable and awkward hard on.

Holly also lay there wide awake, the silence too loud to even think about falling asleep. Desperate to get rid of the suffocating silence, she spoke, “This is so cliché, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Marvyn asked, genuinely unsure of what she was talking about.

“The whole two co-workers forced to share a bed thing. I thought this type of shit just happened in books to get the two main characters together,” she said matter-of-factly, not realizing until after she finished her sentence just how suggestive it was.

“Don’t get any ideas, Coach Barrett,”

“Oh, please. As if. Goodnight Marvyn.”

“Night,” she heard him whisper. Finally feeling relaxed, she dozed off to sleep to the sound of his breathing.

Marvyn woke just a few hours later, feeling pressure on his thigh. Dazed and confused, he looked up at the alarm clock next to his head, a green-lit 3:00 AM staring back at him. He turned back to see what was pressed up against his thigh. Lo and behold, Holly had thrown her leg over his thigh while they were sleeping. Pft, “as if” Marvyn silently mocked her words from earlier. His arm was trapped under her waist, ghosting over the swell of her ass. He instantly regretted lifting his other hand up to rest on her thigh, as he almost instantly got hard again.

They were hardly under the covers anymore, having kicked them off in their sleep. In the dimmed light coming from the streetlights outside, Marvyn could watch Holly as she slept. She really was a beautiful woman. He was surprised she hadn’t found anybody after her divorce. Any man would be lucky to have her. Not only was she incredibly good-humored and down-to-earth, but she also was just fucking sexy. He’d never really looked at her that way before that night, but it was hard not to when her breasts were practically falling out of her tank top and her shorts left next to nothing to the imagination.

He was abruptly shaken from his thoughts when he started to feel movement beside him. Not just any movement. No. The beautiful blonde woman beside him had started to rock her hips into his thigh. This can’t be happening. She has to be dreaming. I have to be dreaming right now Marvyn thought in a panic.

Her movements against the bare skin of his thigh grew faster, and she let out a soft moan, almost too quiet to hear. He started to feel how wet she was through her shorts. Marvyn’s heart was about to beat out of his chest, as he felt his cock twitch for what seemed like the millionth time that night, just aching to be touched. He had no clue what to do. Was he supposed to wake her up? Let her unconsciously get off on his thigh? There was no right way to go about it.

Holly slowly slipped into consciousness. She assumed the dream she was having must have been great based on how wet she was, slowly rocking against the thigh pressed firmly between her legs. It felt too good to stop. She tilted her hips back, seeking more friction against her clit. She sighed at the sensation. She became aware of the hands splayed on her lower back and on her thigh. The hardness pressed against her inner thigh then caught her attention.

Holy fuck! She thought frantically, suddenly remembering she went to sleep next to Marvyn last night. Before the panic set in, she felt the hand on her back move lower, resting firmly on her ass, which was only half covered by her sleep shorts. She nearly gasped when the hips underneath her began to rock into her thigh. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder as she continues her movements.

They both knew the other was awake, but they didn’t say a word, and they didn’t stop; they just kept grinding, getting each other off. Marvyn squeezed the swell of her ass through her shorts, his hand strong and firm against the silky fabric of her shorts and her soft skin. His fingers moved towards the edge of her shorts, daring to go further. She began rocking into him a bit harder, which he took as permission to go further, letting his fingers slip beneath the fabric of her shorts and run across the smoothness of her skin. His thumb brushed the lacy fabric of the black thong he got a sneak peek of earlier. He slid his other hand up her thigh to palm her other cheek, starting to guide her movements into him.

They stayed like that, grinding into one another for a good few minutes until Marvyn grew impatient, he had to touch her, feel her. He slowly moved his hand down her thigh, stopping at her knee which rested on his waist. Lifting her knee off of him, he encouraged her to spread her legs for him. Sliding his hand down her inner thigh, he turned his head to whisper in her ear. “Is this okay?” he asked, not wanting to push.

“Fuck, yes. Please,” she begged with a whisper. Just fucking touch me already! she wanted to yell at him.

He slid his hand past the waistband of her shorts, lifting up her tank top to rub the taut skin across her stomach, finally resting his hand on her breast, thumbing her rock-hard nipple. He was driving her insane. She lifted her hips, a silent beg for him to touch her where she needed it most.  He took the hint, trailing his hand back down her stomach, tight and coiled with anticipation. His movements became hesitant, worried about taking things too far, ruining their relationship as they knew it.

She felt his hand stop just above the waistband of her shorts. She wondered if he was unsure about touching her or just being a tease. Hoping it was the latter, she lifted her head up to whisper in his ear, “Don’t be such a tease.”

“Are you sure about his?” he asked innocently.

Hearing the nerves in his voice, she reached her hand up to rest on his, squeezing his hand to assure him how much she wanted this, how much she needed this. She guided his hand below her waistband. His hand ghosted her core through the fabric of her panties. She slid her hand up his arm to feel his biceps. He had great arms. She ached to see if his chest was just as toned and firm as his arms.

He could feel the heat of her through the thin lace fabric covering her core. Judging by how wet she was already, Holly clearly wanted this just as much as he did. The soft sighs in his ear egging him on. A rush of confidence coursed through him, realizing just how much of an effect he had on her by barely touching her. Hell, she was gasping and grinding on him in her sleep. Which could easily be from having not gotten laid in a while, but Marvyn would rather think it was because of him entirely.

He always prided himself on being particularly good at sex. He got a lot of practice in college; girls practically threw themselves at him. And he and Caren had a pretty fun and adventurous sex life for most of their marriage. He knew his way around a woman’s body: how it worked, how it reacted, how to manipulate it. And in that moment with Holly, he wanted to cherish every inch of her body, to pay attention to each subtle detail of her enjoyment…for hours.

It surprised him. This sudden sexual desire for his colleague – his assistant coach, technically his subordinate. They did do everything couples do, besides sex of course (until now). They went out to dinner, got drinks together. They trusted and respected each other, wanted the best for the other. If he had this close of a connection with any other woman, Marvyn was sure he would develop feelings for her. But this was Holly. They worked together. They were friends, yes, but their relationship was professional and strictly platonic. Whatever mentor/mentee, co-worker relationship and friendship they had was a whole lot more interesting for the both of them than some dating scenario. He always figured a crude, yet expert sexual encounter would ruin what they had together. But now, he wasn’t so sure. He wanted her. All of her.

His earlier hesitation quickly disappeared. He swiftly dipped his fingers beneath the lace of her underwear, ghosting his fingers over her wet center, teasing her. Her breath grew jagged with anticipation. His touch was a mere whisper on her skin, but it made her thighs tremble. There was no holding in the gasp that escaped her when he swiped through her slick with his deft fingers. He found her clit with his middle finger, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles, eliciting a breathy moan from her.

The position they were in wasn’t exactly comfortable, at least not for Marvyn. His right arm was still being crushed under her, and him lying on his back beside her wasn’t the most ideal if he wanted to give her the best finger-fuck of her life.

She was pleased when he moved to hover over her, basking under the weight of him above her. He was so much bigger than her. He was practically engulfing her.

“I want to see you,” he whispered, reaching to turn on one of the bedside lamps. It illuminated the room just right, not too bright, not too dark, just light enough to tear away the shadows on her cheeks and restore the glimmer in her bright blue eyes.

His right hand, still half-asleep from being under her for so long, moved to hold down her hip, keeping her still. She could already feel the bruises forming from how tight he was gripping her. The thought of him leaving a mark on her sent shockwaves of excitement through her.

He slid his other hand out from her sleep shorts, moving once more to set up on his knees. He brought his hand to Holly’s mouth, still wet with her slick.

“Open,” he directed, pressing his fingers against her lips. She obeyed, opening her mouth, and sucking on his fingers covered with her own arousal. She flicked her tongue against his knuckles, tasting herself, faintly, and feeling the roughness of his skin. He groaned and dragged his hand down to rest on her neck. No pressure. No real grasp or hold. But it stole her breath just the same.

He hadn’t even kissed her yet, something about that step feeling far too intimate. Somehow kissing her would be too far for Marvyn but rubbing her clit and letting her suck on his fingers isn’t too intimate.

Eager to feel his lips on her, Holly moved from fisting the bedsheets to fisting Marvyn’s t-shirt, pulling him down toward her. He kissed her then. It was heated, passionate, intimate. His hand still rested on her neck, his other gripping her hip, pushing her into the mattress. His tongue prodded at the seam of her lips, eager to explore her mouth.

That kiss may have been the best she’d ever had. She ran her fingers through his hair, using her grip to pull him closer to her, deepening the kiss. She lifted her hips up into him, searching for the friction her clit was craving. Her movements matched perfectly with Marvyn as he shifted his hips into hers. He was wedged between her legs, hot and hard, exactly where she wanted him. He'd be able to thrust into her right now if they weren't wearing clothes. Why the fuck are we still dressed? Holly screamed silently in her head.

The heat of his body on top of her was electrifying. She fisted his t-shirt sleeves in an attempt to keep him there, addicted to the feeling of being trapped underneath him.

His lips traveled down her jaw. He tilted her head to the side, giving him access to kiss her throat. She melted under him, a loud whimper escaping her. His mouth left a trail of hot, wet kisses down her throat, across her shoulder, and along her collarbone. Being kissed had never felt so perfect, so hot.

“You won’t be needing this,” he said, lifting her top over her head and throwing it somewhere off the bed. She loved seeing him take control like this. Outside of the bedroom was a different story. She hated when he belittled her, undermined her, told her what to do. It was infuriating. But in the bedroom, under his touch, she’d do nearly anything he asked of her.

He took hold of one of her now bare breasts, the textured skin of his thumb circling her nipple made her shudder. He lowered his head to give her other breast some attention, taking her nipple in his mouth. Her hands flew to the back of his head, holding him against her, never wanting him to stop.

“Marvyn,” she sighed. It was the first word she had spoken in nearly 10 minutes.

He continued in his path down her body, kissing down the taut lines of her stomach, setting tiny little fires across her body.

“You won’t be needing these either,” he repeated, tugging her sleep shorts and panties down her incredible legs. He couldn’t wait to be between her perfect thighs, tasting her, exploring her.

“Please,” she whimpered, guiding his head down where she wanted him most.

“Patience, Coach,” he teased. She felt him smile against her inner thigh as he kissed her there. She changed her mind. He was infuriating in bed too. Such a fucking tease.

Without warning, he licked her bottom to top, stopping at her clit to suck on it, humming into her, making her jolt as if she’d been shocked.

“Fuck!” She bucked her hips into his face. He grasped her inner thighs, pushing her in the mattress, holding her still, and spreading her further apart for him. He slid his tongue between her folds, tasting her wetness, before he found her clit again, locking his mouth around it, sucking hard. Her body almost caught on fire when he slid two fingers into her, pumping into her slowly. She had never been eaten out like this before. She had no idea it could feel this fucking good. Her ex-husband would do the bare minimum, never really caring if she got off or not. He didn’t explore her like this. He didn’t take his time with her the way Marvyn was, learning what she liked, noting every move that made her squirm and moan. She was sure Marvyn had to have watched some sort of online how-to video or something because there was just no way this man could use his tongue and his mouth so skillfully. He devoured her cunt like it was his birthright, as if he'd been programmed to put his mouth precisely here and there and lick her till she screamed. And he was clearly enjoying it too. He was moaning for fucks sake.

His name fell from her lips once more as she lifted her hips to the rhythm of his licks, seeking release. “Patience,” he repeated himself. He slid his fingers out of her, replacing them with his tongue. He felt the suck of her cunt on his tongue as he fucked her with it, imagining how incredible it would feel around his cock, which was still strained against the fabric of his boxers, leaking and painfully hard. But this wasn’t about him. At least not then. He wanted to make her cum, feel her release around his tongue and taste her before he fucked her.

“Okay, Holly,” he breathed against her, “You can let go now.” He dove back into her, placing his thumb over her clit and rubbing concentrated circles. He lapped at her folds and brought his other hand down to finger her.

“Marvyn!” she cried out desperately. The stimulation was almost too much. The pleasure was intense, earth-shatteringly so. It consumed her entire body from head to toe. Heaven and torture at the exact same time.

“I know. I know. Just let go for me,” he encouraged. She whined when he pushed another finger into her and curled it, reaching for the spot inside her that he knew would send her over the edge. He continued sucking and flicking at her clit, showing no mercy as he tore her apart, fucking her with his hand and mouth until she was screaming his name and banging her thighs against his ears. Her desperate screams did nothing to halt his movements as he guided her through her orgasm before pulling his fingers out and snaking his tongue into her, tasting her release.

He came up for air, finding her breathing heavy, eyes closed, with her head thrown back into the pillows. When she managed to catch her breath and regain a semblance of lucidity, she lifted her head to watch him begin a trail of wet kisses down her inner thigh. It was obscene. The sight of him between her legs, his chin dripping with her arousal. When he caught her gaze, he couldn’t help the smug smirk that graced his lips, satisfied with the sight of her almost completely wrecked without even fucking her yet.

He rose above her again to slot his mouth against hers. She let his tongue enter her mouth immediately, sucking her taste off of it. He trailed kisses across her cheek to her ear, sucking and nibbling on it for a short moment. “I want to feel you on my cock.”

“What the hell are you waiting for?” she asked breathlessly. He lifted himself off the bed, and she whimpered at the loss of his weight on top of her.

He was still far too overdressed, so he pulled his shirt up over his head. She lifted herself up on her elbows, getting a better look at the show he was putting on before her.

His cock still ached inside his boxers, heavy and hard, desperate to be inside her. When he finally set it free from its confines, it sprung straight up. She gasped at the sight of it, a flicker of nervousness flashed across her face. She had figured he’d be pretty well-endowed. He’s Marvyn Korn. Always bigger and better than everyone. But it was intimidating. She hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, and none of the toys she used at home did justice to the size of him.

“Protection…?” he said suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“I’m on the pill. I’m clean. Do you have a condom?”

He nodded and turned to walk toward his suitcase, giving Holly a nice view of his perfectly tight ass. He pulled out his wallet, fishing for the single condom he left in there from when he was dating Maggie.

“What are you? 17? Keeping a condom in your wallet?” she laughed.

“Ha. Ha,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at her. He took his time opening the foil package and sliding the condom down his impressive length.

“You better hurry up. You should never keep a lady waiting.” When he looked up at her, he saw her leaning back against the pillows, legs spread, touching herself. Marvyn nearly came in his boxers at the sight of her rubbing her own cunt, still swollen and wet. She was fucking beautiful.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” he asked, crawling back onto the bed. Her fingers continued to move in practiced circles around her clit.

“I didn’t realize I needed your permission,” she challenged boldly, lifting her head slightly to look him in the eye. The look of lust and anticipation in her eyes went straight to his cock. He stroked himself through the latex barrier of the condom as he knelt between her thighs, trying to give himself some relief.

Her movements came to a halt. He watched her in awe as she brought her own fingers up to her mouth, licking them clean, humming a soft moan at the taste of herself.

“God, you’re filthy,” he commented. He rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit.

She’d had enough of the teasing, enough of the waiting. She wanted him inside her so fucking badly. “Just fuck me already,” she pleaded, reaching up to run her hands down his hairy chest and abs, confirming they were just as perfect as his arms.

“Filthy and eager,” he noted aloud.

“Marvyn, I swear to God—”             He thrust into her without warning, and she cried out his name. Holding still inside her, he let her adjust to the size of him. The way she felt around him was unreal. She was hot, wet, and so fucking tight. He moaned as he felt her cunt squeeze his cock as she willed her body to accustom his size.

He leaned down on top of her, smothering her body with his own. “Fuck,” he groaned in her ear, “You feel so fucking good, Holly.” He sucked lightly at the skin on her neck, tasting it’s the sweat that started to bead up there.

“Christ,” she groaned, throwing her head back, clinging to his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin from her nails, “So fucking… so big… so good,” she panted out incoherently as he increased the pace of his hips.

“You like getting fucked like this?” he grumbled in her ear, bringing his right hand to rest on her throat, not applying pressure, but making it known he could if he wanted to.

“Yes,” she managed, almost too quiet for Marvyn to hear.

“I like you like this. Taking my cock. Not putting up a fight,” he voiced lowly, biting at her ear.

She loved the dirty talk, but she hated how much his words turned her on. She lived to put up a fight, never one to accept being demeaned by someone else, especially a man. But having Marvyn so big and strong and sexy on top of her, dominating her, it was incredible, something she could only dream of.

She whined when he pulled out of her. He flipped her onto her stomach, gripped her hips, sure to leave bruises in the shape of his fingertips. Her arms were splayed in front of her, and her cheek pressed against the hotel bed sheets as he dragged her hips up to meet him. He positioned himself at her entrance, pushing her legs apart so she was wide open for him. He slammed into her. The sound of his low groans and slapping of skin on skin was so obscene it nearly forced her them both to come undone.

“Marvyn,” she breathed. He just barely heard her.

He fisted her hair, pulling back just hard enough so that she was looking back over her shoulder at him. “That’s it,” he praised, “I love the sound of my name on your lips. I love hearing you lose it for me.”

“God, Marvyn,” she gasped in between moans, loving the verbal praise, wanting more.

“You take me so well,” he grunted, “Like you were made for me, for my cock.” The words rolled out of his mouth before he could even register what he was saying. But he watched and took note of the way a smile crept to her lips and the way her walls clenched around his cock with each word – she got off on it. This new discovery egged him on. He pulled her body up against him, holding her to him by the base of her throat. “Fuck, Holly. I don’t know how I’m supposed to ever stop fucking you,” he growled in her ear.

“Then don’t,” she panted matter-of-factly. Her answer surprised him. He wasn’t expecting her to even respond to him with anything besides a moan. The implications of her response made his head spin. Did she want to do this again? He thought to himself hopefully.

Her head fell back on his shoulder. She brought her hands up to grope her breasts, tweak each nipple between her fingers. “I need you to touch me,” she begged.

“Ask. Nicely,” he growled, punctuation each word with a thrust into her swollen cunt.

“Marvyn,” she let out a sigh so sexy it would put a fucking pornstar out of business, ”Please touch me. I’m so close.” She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a familiar coil tighten in her stomach.

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes, Marvyn, for fuck’s sake, touch me. Please. Let me cum all over you.” She was desperate for release.

Satisfied with her desperate pleas, he released his hand from her throat, moving it down to rub circles over her clit. When her legs began to shake, Marvyn fucked into her with a new urgency.

She cried out, screaming his name, her orgasm ripping through her with an intensity she had never experienced before. Her body went limp, relying on him to hold her up against him. His hand was still rubbing her clit as he fucked into her sensitive, overstimulated cunt. She hissed, pushing his hand away, the electric shocks pulsing through her body were just too fucking much.

“Come on, Marvyn,” she encouraged with what little energy she had left. “You fill me up so good. Please cum for me.” As dominant as he was with her, he got off on the praise too, his hips slamming into her harder and sloppier, chasing his own orgasm.

“God, Holly. The things… fuck…you do to me.” He was so gone, the feeling of his impending release leaving his brain fried.

“Show me, Marvyn,” she whispered huskily, “Please. For me.”

His head fell back, biting his lip to fight the loud groan that wanted to escape him. He paused deep inside her as he climaxed. He nearly blacked out; the force of his orgasm stronger than he’s had in a very long time.

He held onto the condom as he slowly pulled out of her. He got up from the bed, his legs unsteady, and walked to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He eyed the clean washcloths on the bathroom counter as he was walking out, grabbing one and wetting it a little in case Holly needed it to wipe herself off. Ever the gentleman.

But when he walked back into the room, he found Holly already fast asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he left the small towel on her bedside table. Before turning off the lamp, he took a moment to study her face, blissful, beautiful, and glowing. After turning off the light, he climbed into bed next to her. He kissed her temple before turning on his side to let sleep claim him.

When they both woke to their alarms a few hours later, things were…somewhat awkward between them. They danced around each other as they got ready for their day of camp with the girls, neither of them wanting to have that conversation, wanting instead to pretend that what happened was just some crazy sex dream for the both of them in order to avoid dealing with how it changed their relationship, their partnership, their friendship.

Holly looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, traced her fingers along the bruises he left on her hips and her neck. Dear God, he left fucking hickeys on her neck. She covered what she could with what little makeup she had brought on this trip. The girls won’t even notice, she thought wishfully.

They did in fact notice. Not only did they notice the poorly covered-up marks on her neck, but they also noticed the slight limp in her walk when she arrived to the camp with Marvyn.

“Looks like you guys owe me 10 bucks,” Samantha bragged to the other starters sitting at the table for breakfast.

“How do you even know they did it?” Louise questioned.

“Well, she did do a pretty terrible job at hiding those bruises on her neck,” Destiny commented.

“Wait, he left bruises on her?!” Mouse said a little too loudly, genuinely concerned.

The entire table shushed her.

“They’re hickeys, Mouse. Duh,” Samantha said. “Those two definitely got together.”

“She is kinda limping a bit, not gonna lie,” Destiny observed with a laugh. Louise shushed her, slapping her on the shoulder.

“I kind of hope you’re right, Sam,” Olive chimed in, “It’s kind of cute, like right out of a movie. Coach and assistant coach fall in love…”

“Bang in a hotel room while away at team camp,” Destiny continued, met with another hit on the shoulder from Louise.

“Guys, look,” Samantha whispered urgently, nodding her head towards the breakfast buffet.

The girls all zipped their heads around to see what Samantha was pointing at. They watched as Holly and Marvyn stepped through the buffet line together, side by side, with Marvyn’s hand resting on Holly’s lower back.

“How much more proof do you need?” Samantha asked. “Pay up!”

#CAN U PPL PLEASE WATCH THIS SHOW ALREADY #if no one's gonna write harvyn smut #THEN I FUCKING WILL #STREAM BIG SHOT NOW ON DISNEY+ #THANK YOU #pitbull lyric for the title as i should #big shot on disney+ #big shot series #disney+ #harvyn #holly barrett #marvyn korn #harvyn fanfiction #harvyn fic #holly and marvyn #my fics #my gifs

[watermelonlipstick]

Blood

I was thinking it might be cute to do a little moment with Sam and Dean being sweet about getting your period. It doesn’t really matter when this would take place, but I mention Dean being 34, so I guess it’s around season 8! But I think they’d be like this pretty much anytime. 

Thanks so much for reading!! I’d love any advice or critiques if you have them.

Title: Blood

Pairing: Winchesters x Reader, mostly platonic

Word Count: 974

Summary: The reader gets her period on a hunt, so Sam and Dean try to help.

Warning: mention of periods, blood, etc

gif from bilosan!

“Dude, it’s just blood. Don’t act like such a fucking virgin.”

           “I’m not acting li—I’m not getting into this with you, Dean. Can you just ask her?”

           “It’s not rocket science, college boy. Leak, plug. What’s she going to illuminate?”

           “Give me the phone,” you said, yanking it out of Dean’s hand. “Yeah, Sam?”

           His voice was tinny over the burner’s line. “So I know you usually get the ones without applicators because they’re better for the environment but I’m not seeing any here. Do you have a second choice?”

           “Whichever box is the smallest; I don’t have a ton of room in my bag.”

           “Ah, okay, got it.” You heard the faint sound of cardboard sliding along a metal shelf. “Want anything else, while I’m out?”

           “Yeah, if they have scalpels grab a couple of those, you’re giving me a hysterectomy when you get back,” you groaned drily into the cell.

           “How about gummy worms and Tylenol?”

           It wasn’t hard to imagine Sam’s smile when you only grumbled in response.

           “I’ll be back in a minute. Hang in there babe,” he said, ending the call.

           Dean was standing at the sink in the motel bathroom, trying to flatten out a defiant cowlick he’d gotten from napping in the car earlier. A wave of pain-induced nausea hit you so fast you almost didn’t have time to yank the back of his shirt to switch places with him, slamming the door behind you as you threw up into the echoes of the dated avocado green toilet.

    ��      “Christ, it’s really that bad?” Dean called, muffled through the cheap hollow particle board.

           When you caught a breath, you answered him sarcastically. “No, I just thought yakking might be fun.” You cleaned yourself up and brushed your teeth thoroughly before going out to meet him. “It’s not always this bad, obviously. I must have some extra good karma this month.”

           Dean winced in sympathy from his new post, sitting against the headboard with his legs crossed over the length of one of the motel’s double beds. “Well, I’m sorry kid. Come here.” He patted the mattress next to himself, and you crawled in next to him to curl into the fetal position with your head on his chest. Dean wrapped an arm around you to rub firm circles into the taut-rope muscles of your lower back. The pressure helped and whatever syndicated show he was watching on the slightly fuzzy TV was just distracting enough to let you unclench your jaw.

           Sam returned a few minutes later bearing gifts. He threw the gummy worms on the other bed and deftly cracked open the small bottle of painkillers before handing it to you with a bottle of Dr. Pepper. When you’d thrown back a few, he pulled a petite box of tampons out of the plastic bag. He gave them to you, balling the bag in his palm before tossing it across the room into the wastebasket. Folding his long legs to sit opposite you on the other mattress, he braced his elbows on his knees. “Are you hungry?”

           “Always—” Dean answered, cut off by Sam’s exasperated look over your shoulder to his brother before he turned his gaze back to you.

           You unfurled yourself and sat up straight through the thick ache gripping your abdomen. “You’re sweet, but I’m not sick or anything, I’ll be fine. I don’t want you guys to think I’m a baby. Give me like five minutes and we can head out.” You grabbed the box and went to the bathroom.

           When you came out the boys weren’t suiting up like you’d expected, still where you’d left them on the plasticky paisley quilts. “It’s late, the sheriff can wait until tomorrow,” Dean said, motioning for you to refill your spot next to him. You quirked up an eyebrow in question.

           “Chinese food is on the way—got veggie lo mein and fried rice for you because I didn’t know which one you were in the mood for,” Sam offered, finally getting up to shuck off his jacket and boots.

           “Guys, come on, I’m okay.” You rifled through your duffel bag to pull out the all-purpose pumps you kept for pretending to be someone who didn’t wear work boots 90% of the time.

           “We know you are, killer. You’re forgetting who stitches your stoic ass up; you’ve got nothing to prove. Let a couple old men have a day off.”

           “You’re 34.”

           “Even more reason I need a night off, I feel like I’m 70.”

           Sam smiled at that one just as you did, tossing a beer to Dean from the minifridge in the corner. He held another up in a silent question and lobbed it when you opened your palms to catch. You looked between the brothers from next to your duffel, straining to see frustration or pity in their eyes and finding nothing as Sam crossed the room to sit opposite Dean in a few lazy strides.

           A beat of waiting didn’t help you come up with a reason to get back to work, so you kicked off the unlaced boots on your feet and cracked open the can feeling both thankful and reluctant. When you followed Sam over to the beds, you leaned over where he sat to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you,” you half-whispered, your voice low near his ear. His shy, empathetic half smile was all the ‘you’re welcome’ you wanted, and you flopped down onto a bed.

           When the takeout came, Sam doled out chopsticks (and a fork for Dean) and food. You stopped to think about how nice it was; how much beer, TV, salty food, back rubs, and your boys really were what you wanted, not just now but every day. Maybe not everything about being on your period was so bad.

-

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request! Tags are always open. 

Tags: @sams-sass , @jarpadjenackles , @anxiousbarnes​ , @akshi8278​ , @whatareyousearchingfordean , @deanwinchesterswitch , @flannellover67

#dean winchester #Sam Winchester #sam fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean fanfiction #dean one shot #sam winchester one shot #sam winchester drabble #dean x sam x reader #dean x reader #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fluff #spn fic #SPN #spn fanfiction #spn oneshot #spn fluff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester fluff #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester x you

[venhedish]

Ven’s Masterlist of SPN Fic

I write mostly pre-series and early seasons Big Feels™ Wincest fic. There’s a lot of angst and pining here, but plenty of love and devotion mixed in with the darkness.

I always deeply, deeply appreciate likes, kudos, comments, and reblogs!

Wincest Fic

Stand-Alone

Yesterday is a Ghost I Believe In ~4.1k, Teen, Pre-series, Epistolary, Multimedia, Experimental There's an old shoebox under Sam Winchester's bed. It's been there almost as long as he can remember. He doesn't look inside it very often, but when he does, he takes his time. A multimedia collection of letters, journal entries, pictures, and other ephemera from a life on the road. .

That Monster, Love ~2k, Teen, Pre-series, POV Outsider, POV John Winchester, John Finds Out, Angst “You think you’re doing your boys any favors, raisin’ ‘em like this?” .

To Cure My Lonesome Blood ~8.8k, Explicit, Pre-series, Pining Dean, Angst, Bittersweet Ending Dean’s been sick since before either of them was born. The disease is incurable, written into his blood – the same blood he shares with his brother. If he’s not careful, the fever will spread like a fire and consume them both. .

Like Sand, Like Water, Like Sunlight ~1.7k, Gen, Pre-series, Mutual Pining, Angst, Pre-Slash Sea birds circle overhead and Dean wishes he had a camera. Sam looks so young, all of twelve years old, and exhilarated. Dean wants to hold this image in the chambers of his heart, but his pulse just carries it along; time is cruel that way. .

The Space Between Sense and Memory ~4.8k, Teen, Pre-series through Season 1, 5-and-1 Things There are a hundred unwritten rules on all the acceptable ways brothers should touch each other. There are hardly any ways at all to break them. Or; five times they follow the rules and one time they don’t. .

Every Goodbye, all at Once ~900, Teen, Pre-series, Stanford Era, Pining Dean, Angst, Epistolary "Hey, It's Sam. If you're looking for my dad, you can reach him at 866-555-9352. If you're looking for me, leave a message." A series of voicemails Dean leaves at the number Sam left behind. .

Breathe You In (Choke You Down) ~6k, Explicit, Season 01, PWP, Scent Kink, Guilty Dean Winchester Once Sam was gone, Dean missed him in a way that was all-consuming, all the way down – so deep in his bones that he shook with loneliness some nights. And it was the familiar scent of his brother’s hair where it tangled warm against the pillows, his pulse beating under his skin and sending the fear of the hunt wafting off of him in waves that Dean struggled to hold onto the hardest. Dean really likes the way Sam smells..  .

Dawn is Coming (Open Your Eyes) ~5k, Explicit, Season 01, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together In which Sam and Dean suffer new wounds and stitch old ones back together. There’s an awful storm, a dead monster, an injury, and a whole lot of feelings. .

You put the Magic in Me ~9.1k, Explicit, Season 02(ish), Sex Pollen, Porn with Plot, Casefic “This is the weirdest thing we’ve ever done for a case,” Dean says under his breath, leaning into Sam and scouting the crowd gathered around a dozen tables inside the little café. “Dude, relax,” Sam says back, eyebrows raising at his brother’s nervous energy. “I thought this would be, like, your thing.” He gestures vaguely to the women milling around inside. A long, vividly red banner hangs across the open french doors that lead into the space, emblazoned with the words The Oolong Tea Room Presents: Lonely Hearts Club Speed Dating! Feb 11-14th! Or; in which Sam and Dean learn a thing or two about chemistry. .

The Stars are not Wanted Now ~2k, Teen, Season 02, Episode Tag: s02e21 All Hell Breaks Loose, Angst, Death Rituals There was a body on the bed.  It had been there long enough that the slanting light of morning crept into the room like an unwelcome invader and washed the world in a dream-shade of palest blue.   But there were no dreams here; only death, only memory. The body on the bed was all that remained of Samuel Winchester, who had died in his brother’s arms the night before. .

Demi-Gods and Hungry Ghosts ~5.8k, Explicit, Season 03, Episode Tag: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Dark, Dub-con, Hurt No Comfort This dream-state of living on pause and rewind leads to some interesting avenues of thought that Sam doesn’t mean to travel, but after a certain number of unrelenting Tuesdays, they just become inevitable. If Dean dies every day—if his memories are wiped, or if they never happen at all—what could Sam get away with, if he wanted to? Could he dare to find out?  .

In Sanguine Vita Est   ~5.2k, Explicit, Season 04, Knifeplay, Dean’s Hell Trauma, Hurt/Comfort Everything was different now. Dean was here—back from the fucking dead—but he was a stranger in his own body. Scars gone, aches from broken bones that hadn’t set right vanished back into the void as if they’d never existed at all. He’d become a stranger to the whole world. He’d become a stranger to Sam. _ Dean asks Sam to help him heal after he returns from Hell. .

All Heartless Spectres, Happiness ~5.7k, Explicit, Season 06, Episode Tag: s06e06 You Can’t Handle the Truth, POV Outsider, Angst, Soulless Sam Lisa Braeden receives an email with the subject line, "You Deserve to Know." It contains a single video file and nothing else. .

The Rungs of Me be Under You ~1.6k, Teen, Gencest, Post-Bunker, 2nd Person POV, Queerplatonic Sam and Dean, Non-Sexual Kink What they share has never been easy to define. Why should this be any different?  .

Wincest Series The Top/Bottom Discourse Series (Ongoing) [Each story is canon compliant and listed chronologically, but they can all be read as standalone works.] This series was born originally from a silly meta post I made on Tumblr as a response to some very angry top/bottom discourse I was seeing about how only Sam could truly be A Top™, or how only Dean could truly be A Top™. I personally like to kink and let kink and not drag outdated gender politics into my fandom (Dean can't be a bottom because he's too masculine? Ice cold take, bro), so I wrote a filthy little tongue-in-cheek post about all the ways I think Sam and Dean have fucked each other over the years.

 I’m Thinking About Whatever You’re Thinking About ~5.1k, Explicit, Pre-series, PWP, Bratty Sam, Exhibitionism, Fear of Discovery Sam is such a brat, sometimes. .

 Shoot to Thrill ~6.7k, Explicit, Season 02, Porn with Plot, Hustling, Getting Back Together It's just like riding a bike. .

Burn Out The Night ~4.9k, Explicit, Season 08, Porn with Plot, Car Sex, Light BDSM, Fluff What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. .

Destiel Fic

Love Made a Martyr of Me ~500, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Past Sam/Dean, Angst Sam says yes in Detroit, and in the space of a single syllable, there's nothing left in Heaven or on Earth for Dean to love. Cas doesn't seem to care. .

The Sharp Teeth of the One You Love ~2k, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining “Quit bein’ a baby, Cas.” Dean’s hands were covered in blood, but they were steady as always while he worked to stitch Castiel back together. “I’m sorry,” Cas growled between gritted teeth. “I don’t exactly have a lot of experience feeling pain.” He hissed again when Dean slid the curved needle back through the eight-inch-long gash that ran deep and bloody down Cas’s bicep. Castiel learns something about what it means to be human. .

Wincestiel Fic

Temerate ~700, Teen, Season 05(ish), Past Sam/Dean, 2nd Person POV, First Time Your brother is sitting in the corner of the motel room. His big hands are worrying at each other; he squeezes them together, fingertips white from the pressure of his grip. He meets your eyes and his gaze is like a lightning strike. .

Dean/John Fic

Cruore ~1.1k, Mature, Pre-series, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Blood, Intrusive Thoughts Bites, Dean could deal with – claw marks and broken bones. But this- ... a bullet was a different kind of monster altogether. .

Supernatural RPF

Il Cielo in Una Stanza ~4.4k, Explicit, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Getting Back Together, Prequel-Gate, Polyamory, Non-AU Jared Padalecki receives a present he wasn't expecting at all for his 39th birthday. . 

Other Supernatural Fic

Bad Things, Better Reasons ~2k, Explicit, Pre-series, Dean Does Sex Work, Angst, Brotherly Love. Dean does whatever it takes to keep the bills paid while John is gone. The kid waiting for him back at the motel room is all the justification he’ll ever need. .

No Was Her Name ~1.3k, Teen, Season 12, Dean/Mary, Light Angst, First Kiss Mary Winchester was alive. She was solid—made of skin and blood and bone—and she existed in the same world as Dean. It wasn’t a dream; she walked and talked and breathed. She ate, she slept, she wandered the halls of the bunker at odd hours. She was a ghost made flesh, and Dean was haunted by her presence. .

#ven creates #wincest #wincestiel #destiel #J2 #daddycest #spn fic #fic masterlist #my fic #long post #sorry #i just wanna be able to link to it in my bio

[rizlowwritessortof]

Meant To Be - Chapter 1

Dean and Jordan are each trying to escape their painful pasts. Their chance meeting and a dangerous encounter begins a relationship that may give them both a new start. (Tags will be on the fic masterlist post so y’all don’t get bombarded with each chapter.)

Pairing: Police Detective Dean Winchester/Jordan Taylor

Word Count: 3583

Warnings: Abusive relationship and related violence, nothing graphic. 

Aesthetic by @editsbymichele on Instagram; Dividers by @firefly-graphics

The sudden stop sent the car skidding a little in the gravel, the dust cloud swirling to dissipate in the breeze as Jordan jumped out, slamming the door hard behind her as she yelled into her phone. “Kiss my ass, Darrel! No, you did this, don’t lay it on me! What?! Like hell I’m coming home! Just go back to your new little drinking buddy-slash-fucktoy and leave me alone. You can’t have it both ways. No, fuck you. Fuck you sideways, buddy. I’m done. Have a nice life.”

She let out a frustrated scream, slamming a fist down on the hood of the car, so pissed off that she was shaking. She whirled around, startled, as a deep masculine voice called out. “Poor car. Sounds like Darrel’s the one you should be punching.”

“Excuse me? That was a private conversation!” she spluttered, glaring at the source. He was standing in front of a beautiful black beast of a car, the hood up, wiping his hands on a shop rag. She could feel the heat in her face, and his appearance slowly filtering through her rage into her brain didn’t help. He was gorgeous.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, sweetheart, but the way you were yelling, there wasn’t much private about it.” He dropped his chin a little, his eyes narrowing as he spoke again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to butt in. Are you okay?”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she turned to the car, jerking the back door open to grab her bag. “It’s okay, sorry I was such a bitch. And I’m not okay, but I will be. I’m gonna be fucking awesome.” She stuffed her phone in her back pocket and fished the key card out of her bag, fumbling with the door. “Thanks for asking, anyway.”

She glanced back at him before going in, watching his little nod of acknowledgment and rueful smile. She closed the door shut behind her and leaned against it, dropping her bag. “Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all. Screaming like a crazy woman in the middle of a parking lot, in front of the most fucking attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. Awesome start to your new life, Jordan.” She  moved to the window, peeking out the side of the curtains at him as he continued working under the hood of his car. He was tall, solid, in beat-up blue jeans and a well-worn grey t-shirt that was smeared with grease and dark in spots from perspiration. She watched the muscles in his biceps strain as he worked with some kind of tool, stopping for a moment to grab the rag from his back pocket and wipe his face. He was ridiculously good-looking, even with smudges of grease on his arms and face. Actually, somehow that made him even more attractive, a man’s man, a man who wasn’t afraid of hard work and getting dirty. He glanced her direction, and she backed away quickly, swearing under her breath.

She sighed, letting her eyes roam around her room. It was almost like a little bungalow, with a kitchenette and a couch against one wall, and she wandered over to take a look out the back door. Now wasn’t that convenient! Right across the street behind the motel was a little liquor store, and she began to smile to herself. “No guts, no glory, girl. Get over there and buy that fine man a cold beer to apologize for being a hag.”

A few minutes later, she was stepping back out the front door with two icy-cold long necks in her hands. He watched her approach, wiping his hands, a slow smile lighting up his handsome face. “Here. To say I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“Well, no apology necessary, but I’ll be damned if I say no to that! Fuckin’ hot out here,” he rumbled, taking the beer gratefully and taking a long pull from the bottle.

“Fuckin’ hot anywhere you are,” Jordan thought to herself, joining him after a little salute with the bottle in his direction. “Nothing better than an ice-cold beer on a hot day,” she said out loud. “So – what’s wrong with your car?”

“Oh, nothin’, really. Just tuning her up a little. Killing time, actually. I’ve been here one night already, looks like it’s gonna be another couple. Just waiting for my brother to get back.”

“Ahhh, so you just like to tinker.”

“Oh, I just like to make her purr.” Jordan almost choked on the swallow of beer she had just taken. “She’s just like a woman, you treat her right, she’ll treat you right.”

She smiled at him, getting one back in return. “Well, I’m glad there’s a man in this world who knows that. I’m Jordan, by the way.”

“Dean. Nice to meet you, Jordan.” His voice was on her frequency, apparently, because every time he spoke she felt her breath catch. His eyes were green with hints of gold, framed by thick lashes that any woman would die for, and she looked down at her beer, peeling at the label, unable to withstand his candid gaze any longer. They chatted a little longer about how good the beer tasted, how hot it was, how comfy the rooms were. He finished his beer, setting the bottle down and reaching up to lower the hood and close it. The muscles of his back under that damp, clingy t-shirt raised Jordan’s temperature another notch, and she had to mentally prompt herself to close her mouth. She cleared her throat, taking a long, cool drink, surprised it didn’t just come out of her ears in billows of steam.

“Well, Jordan, thanks for the beer. I’d better hit the shower. Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She smiled back at him, and then watched him walk back to his room, two doors down from hers. Those jeans hugged his body just right, and her eyes followed his bow-legged amble all the way to his door, finally forcing herself to focus on the ground before he could turn and see her staring again. Holy. Shit. She headed back to the room and opened another beer, scolding herself. Not really the best time to be lusting after some stranger, not with all the shit she’d been through the last few weeks. She plopped down on the sofa with a sigh, roaming through the channels on the TV while she finished her beer, then headed for the shower.

Dean dropped the empty beer bottle into the trash and sat on the edge of the bed to untie his boots. He smiled to himself, Jordan’s dramatic entrance into the parking lot replaying in his head. “Little firecracker, that one,” he muttered. She was a little bit of nothing, but what was there was nicely arranged, he had to admit. Big brown eyes, hair short and sexy just like her, kissable lips…

He laughed quietly to himself as he imagined Donna’s teasing voice in his head saying, “Don’t even think about it, partner. Ain’t you had enough?” As soon as he was cleaned up, he needed to call and check on her, see how she was doing. He headed towards the bathroom as he stripped his t-shirt off, pushing the door with one foot to swing it closed.

The bar and grill down the block looked like a good enough place to find some food, and Jordan walked that way, running her fingers through her tousled, short hair. The screen door squealed as she opened it, pushing hard to shove the heavy inner door open and walking into the bar, the air conditioning sending a refreshing chill over her arms. A waitress walking by gave her a pleasant smile and hello, telling her to sit wherever she pleased and she’d be right with her.

There was no one in the place at the moment but a table full of elderly men at the far back corner, playing cards and drinking coffee. She settled herself in a comfy booth by the wall, grabbing a menu.

“Can I get you somethin’ to drink, hon?” the waitress asked, and she smiled up at her.

“Yeah, a glass of whatever you’ve got on tap, please.”

“You got it, be right back to take your order. I’m Molly, by the way, if you need something.” It was a lovely place, simple, homey and welcoming. Small town friendly, which was always pleasant - as long as you weren’t from that small town so they didn’t know all your business. Sometimes being an anonymous stranger was really nice.

Molly came back with a frosted mug brim-full of beer, and she smiled. You don’t get those everywhere. “Awesome, thanks!”

“You ready to order?” the woman asked, brushing a graying lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail away from her face.

“Yeah, I think I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger and fries,” she said, and her stomach grumbled as she spoke. Things had been in such an uproar lately, she had barely been eating.

“Now, there’s a woman with good taste!” Jordan felt her heartbeat stop for a second, and she looked up into Dean’s smiling face, those stunning green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Molly, can I get the same, and a beer?” he asked, giving the older woman his full attention.

“You got it, Dean,” the waitress answered with a smile, and headed back towards the kitchen. He nodded his head towards the seat opposite Jordan’s and grinned.

“Mind if I sit? I mean, if you’re not expecting somebody...”

“No, I’m not, please sit,” she smiled back at him. “It’ll be nice to have somebody to talk to besides myself.”

He took a seat, an amused smirk on his face. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt your conversation.”

“It’s okay. Mostly waxing poetic about the frosted mug of beer,” she grinned back.

“Right? Gotta love that.” He looked up at the waitress as his beer appeared in front of him. “Molly, you’re a doll.”

“Oh, stop. Keep tellin’ you, I’m married,” she teased, turning to go. “And I’m too old for you.”

“Love a woman with experience,” he fired back, and she flapped a hand at him, blushing.

“You are a dangerous man. You watch out for that one, honey,” Molly aimed her parting remarks at Jordan and headed back to the kitchen.

“How long have you known her?” Jordan asked, raising her mug to her lips.

“Just met her yesterday. Why?”

Jordan stared back at him in surprise. “Really? Wow, you’ve got a way with people.”

“A friend of mine told me once that I just like to flirt. She might be right.”

Jordan laughed. “She might be.” His phone went off just then, and he grabbed it off the table.

“My brother. Be right back,” he smiled, swiping the screen as he rose to his feet and headed for the door. “Hey, Sammy,” she heard him say as he went outside.

She ordered them each another beer when Molly came over to check, and she had just taken a drink, focused on reading a message on her phone, when a rough hand landed on her shoulder. “Okay, Jordan. Time to come home.”

She froze, refusing to look up at him. “Darrel. How did you find me?”

“Wasn’t hard. I knew which way you were headed. Now, you’re gonna get up from that seat and come home with me, we have a lot to talk about.”

“We don’t have anything left to talk about, but I’m not making a scene in here. So let’s just go outside and get this over with,” she ground out quietly between clenched teeth. She stood up and winced a little at the brutal grip on her arm, biding her time until they left the bar.

“Miss? You okay?” Molly asked with a frown as they headed for the door, and Jordan nodded.

“I’m fine, Molly. Don’t worry.”

“Just keep movin’,”Darrel whispered behind her. They shoved their way through the door, and took several steps away from the building before Jordan began to struggle. She cried out as he shifted his hold, twisting her arm behind her back viciously. “None of your shit, now. Just move.”

“Hey, Darrel!” Dean’s voice rang out loud and clear behind them, and Jordan tensed at the sound.

Darrel gave her arm another tug as he turned them both around to face Dean. “Fucker!” she spat, her teeth clenched.

“You okay, Jordan?” Dean asked, and she looked into his eyes.

“I’m sure I will be shortly.” Dean nodded, a wicked little smirk curving his lips.  

“Who the hell are you?” Darrel demanded. “Who is this clown?” he growled into Jordan’s ear, and she jerked her head away.

“So, Darrel, tell me – is this usually the way you get women to go with you? Because I’m pretty sure she’s gonna cut off your balls first chance she gets.” He frowned a little, then continued. “Wait, that would assume you have balls, which is pretty unlikely, I’d guess.”

Darrel drew in a breath to respond, distracted for the moment, and Jordan jammed her free arm back, driving her elbow into his ribs, then stomped down hard on his instep. Darrel loosened his grip on her, groaning in pain, and she jerked herself free from his grasp, running towards Dean.

“Good girl,” he said, sweeping his arm out to place her behind him. “Well, Darrel. Looks like we have a situation here.”

Darrel pulled a knife from his back pocket, flipping it open. “Yeah. Bad one for you, asshole. You’re not armed.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “You’ve got a point there. So, whatcha waitin’ for, Darrel?” He said the man’s name with utter contempt, muttering, “Go inside” to Jordan as he headed towards the coward. “Bring it on.”

Jordan couldn’t force her feet to follow his command, staring in horror and shouting Dean’s name as he approached Darrel. There was a flurry of movement, punches thrown and Darrel’s swing with the blade blocked, his arm twisted violently until the weapon hit the ground with a thud, followed a few seconds later by Darrel, bruised and bleeding. Dean bent to pick up the knife, flipping it in his hand and standing over the fallen man with a snarl on his lips.  

“I suggest you get the fuck outta here before I finish kicking your ass. And you forget about her. Forget her name. Forget you ever knew her. You hear me?”

Darrel scooted away, scrambling to his feet at a safer distance. “Jordan, this ain’t over!” he yelled defiantly.

“What did I just say to you?!” Dean bellowed, moving quickly in his direction, and Darrel’s eyes widened as he turned to run. “That’s right, you fucking coward, get your ass away from here.” Dean watched the man run until he was out of sight, then turned quickly, striding back to Jordan’s side. “Did he hurt you? Are you all right?”

She nodded, her face pale, weaving a little as her knees gave way. Dean put an arm around her waist, leading her to the bench beside the door and sitting her down. Molly stuck her head out the door, concern on her face. “Is she all right?”

“Yeah, just a little shaky. Hey, Molly – can we get those burgers to go?”

“Of course, give me just a sec, hon. Just wait right there.”

Dean hunkered down in front of Jordan, taking hold of her cold hand. “Hey, Jordan? Look at me, sweetheart.” She finally raised her eyes, and he gave her a proud little smile. “You did great. Just exactly what I was hoping you’d do.” Molly came out the door just then, handing their food to Dean, and reaching over to put her hand on Jordan’s.

“Glad you’re okay. Both of you.” With a pat to her hand and a little squeeze to Dean’s shoulder, she turned and went back inside.

“Okay, think you can make it back to your room? Come on, I gotcha,” Dean encouraged, an arm around her waist, the food and Darrel’s knife in the other hand. “Man, can’t wait to dig in. Molly makes a mean bacon cheeseburger.” He kept talking, all the way back to the motel, taking Jordan’s key card and letting them both in before leading her to a chair. “I’m going to my room to grab something, I’ll be right back. Okay?” She nodded vacantly, staring down at her hands.

She looked up, eyes wide as she heard someone at the door a couple of moments later, but Dean called out. “It’s just me, Jordan, comin’ back in, okay?” He came in, closed and dead-bolted the door behind him, and set a bottle of whiskey on the table as he walked by. Soon he was back, two coffee mugs from the little kitchenette in his hand. He poured a generous splash of the amber liquid into the cup and scooted it over towards Jordan. “Drink that, it’ll help.” She nodded, taking the cup in hand and tipping it steadily back, letting the liquor burn its way down her throat. She shuddered a little, then held it out for more.

“One more, maybe,” she said, and he tipped the bottle again. She downed the second shot, then blew out a shaky breath.

“Better?”

She looked at him, the color beginning to come back into her cheeks. “Yeah. I think so. Dean, I don’t know what to say...”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just eat. You can talk later.” He grinned, shoving her food at her, and she dug in gratefully.

She moaned, her eyes closing. “This is amazing!” Dean smiled, watching her wolf that bite down and go after another. She stopped, suddenly looking alarmed. “Wait, I didn’t even pay!”

“Taken care of, don’t worry about it.”

“So it’s not enough that you chase off my asshole ex, now you’re buying me dinner? Where have you been all my life?” she teased, taking another bite, and then blushing at her own words. “Wow - maybe the whiskey’s kicking in.”

Dean laughed softly as he continued eating. “Good. Maybe you can relax a little.” He turned on the TV, surfing until he found an old sitcom, and they watched as they finished their meal. When the credits rolled, Dean stood up, gathering the trash and tossing it before turning back to smile at her. “So – I should get out of here, let you get some rest.”

“Do you have to leave?” She swallowed hard, blushing. He stared back at her, not sure how to respond, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry, you’ve done too much for me already, I don’t blame you for wanting to get the hell away, like you need...”

“Hey.” He spoke softly to stop her rambling, and she looked up at him, biting nervously at her lip. “I just thought after what you’d been through you should get some rest.” She nodded silently, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her, and he spoke again, concern in his eyes. “Are you afraid he’ll come back, Jordan?”

“I don’t know. I hope not.” She swallowed hard, fighting not to cry in front of him.

“Listen, I’ve got two beds in my room, you’re welcome to come down there and stay if you want.”

“No, no… I’m just being crazy. I’m sure he’s gone. You probably scared him all the way back home.” She tried to sound like she was laughing it off, but her performance wasn’t convincing even her. “Really, Dean, thank you. I appreciate it. But I don’t want to be any more of a pain than I already have been.” She picked up her phone, avoiding eye contact, and looked up in surprise when he took hold of it, pulling it gently from her grasp.

He typed something into it, then handed it back. “There, I put my number in. If you get scared, or if you need anything, call me. No matter what time it is. Okay?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder. “Get some sleep, sweetheart. How about I pick you up for breakfast in the morning?”

She nodded, looking steadily at the table top as he gave her shoulder a squeeze and headed out the door. As soon as the latch clicked shut, she buried her head in her arms and burst into tears.

She climbed into bed a little later, feeling somewhat better. Dean was right, she did need to sleep. The last few weeks had been harder than she’d realized, and then with Darrel showing up… yeah, the tough girl mask she tried to present to the world had slipped a little.

She fell asleep almost as soon as she settled in, the first deep sleep she’d had in days. A loud crash from the parking lot outside her door woke her, and she sat up, groggy and disoriented, trying to get her bearings before climbing out of bed to see what had caused the noise.

Her eyes widened as she peered out the window. Her car was engulfed in flames, and she stumbled back from the window in shock, running back to the bed to grab her phone from the night stand. Her hands shaking, she dialed Dean’s number, surprised when he answered immediately, not even letting her speak.

“Jordan, stay in your room. Don’t come out unless I come and get you, understand?”

Chapter 2

#meant to be #chapter 1 #detective dean au #dean fic #dean x oc #dean x jordan

[halliewriteshockey]

The Murder Motel

I alluded to the experience I had last night but I didn’t give y’all the full details. I feel it���s only right you should hear them.

So in true Cool Kid fashion, I did not fully plan my hotel stays in advance. I did book a hotel in Roswell but then I realized I wasn’t going to get there before midnight. It was eight pm and I was exhausted, and Roswell just wasn’t happening.

I canceled the Roswell hotel with a lovely agent and then I turned to the Priceline app. “Priceline!” I said. “Find me a hotel in San Angelo, since I’m 20 minutes away and need a place to lay my head for a night! Oh and they have to take pets.”

And Priceline did its thing and found me a hotel. The Red Roof Inn, which should have been my first clue. Why is it red??

The parking lot was nearly empty, which should have been my second clue. The only vehicles were a rundown Chevy that looked like it had given up on life in general back in the sixties, and a few utility workers’ trucks. There were two gentlemen sitting on the second level, both of whom could have been anywhere from 50 to 80. It was hard to tell through the smoke surrounding them.

But the hotel was cheap. And it took pets. And I was very tired. So I went inside and got my keys from the night manager, who looked about as Done™ as the Chevy in the parking lot. He told me the room number, I thanked him, and pulled the car around. I grabbed Pepper first, because she’s skittish and a lot of movement scares her, and I had her in one arm as I tried to get the door open with the other, just as the manager came hustling across the parking lot waving his arms frantically.

I paused, baffled.

“Is it clean?” he demanded when he was close enough.

The door chose that moment to recognize the key card and unlock, swinging open to reveal two completely stripped beds and a pillow with an absolutely terrifying stain on it. (RED, THE STAIN WAS RED.)

I looked at the manager. He looked at me.

“I’ll get you another room. Stay here.” And off he went.

I gingerly closed the door to the probable murder scene and Pepper and I waited. As we did, some guy with his pants around his knees sauntered up to the back door of the lobby, knocked, and waited. The manager opened the door, took something from him, and gave him something in return. With one incurious glance at me and my squirming tortoiseshell kitten, the sartorially-challenged individual left.

I stood there and evaluated my life choices.

Finally the manager came back with a different set of keys, just down the row. I thanked him and moved the car. When I opened this door, the overwhelming stench of rotten eggs immediately smacked me in the face. The room itself was clean... mostly. But all I could smell was the damn sulfur in the water.

The bathroom light fixture was missing a bulb and also most of its parts. The wallpaper on the ceiling was peeling off in great swathes. The toilet groaned like it was in agony when it flushed. I chose to forego a shower, since I didn’t want to reek like rotten eggs for an entire day in the car (assuming I survived the night and wasn’t shanked for pocket change).

The bed was... well, I’ve slept on concrete that was softer. I literally took every single pillow and made a sort of pillow topper and tried to sleep on that and it was still like sleeping on a brick.

The only thing the room had going for it was the brutally efficient air conditioner, which was cranked down to 62 degrees and could not be changed. I can only assume this is to preserve the bodies of the victims after the murdering has taken place.

Somehow, though, I dozed off (after throwing every deadbolt known to man), and when I woke up, a roach scuttled hurriedly away off the end table by my head. Possibly it was sizing me up for its next meal.

I grabbed the cats, slung them in the car, and burned rubber out of there. One very quick visit to Starbucks for much needed caffeine, and San Angelo was in our rear view mirror, and Priceline and I are going to have a serious talk about the kinds of hotels it suggests for me in the future.

#Michaela writes #why did I stay? because it was cheap and I was exhausted next question #and also because it made a pretty great story imo #most of my terrible decisions are based on 'well it'll make a good story someday'

[sholiofic]

(can't send you an ask from my sideblog) I would love something where Sam and Bucky both have nightmares, like, both noticing it with the other (Gen, if that's okay) and whatever angst and/or comfort that entails. Totally fine if the prompt wont be filled tho :) Like your writing, sending good vibes! - anxiouswhumpyescapism

Also on AO3: Mediocre Waffles

--

When Bucky wakes up to a muffled yell, he's halfway out of bed and reaching for the gun tucked between the bedframe and the thin hotel mattress before he grasps that the only person in the room is Sam, the only person making noise is Sam, and Sam is tangled in scratchy motel bedsheets and definitely not being attacked by HYDRA or enemy agents crashing through the neon glow of the windows or anything else.

Sam sits up and they look at each other for a minute by the hazy neon light, and then Sam muzzily grumbles, "Fuck," and gets up and goes off to the bathroom.

Bucky flops back down on the thin, scratchy pillow in the slightly too-hot bed. There's the sound of splashing water from the bathroom; the light flicks on and off. Sam comes back out and rattles around a little, and then the door leading out to the motel stairs opens and closes.

Bucky lies there for a moment or two, then sighs and rolls his legs off the bed. He is, as usual on the road, sleeping in a T-shirt and jeans in case he has to get up in a hurry. He follows Sam outside.

It's a two-story roadside motel with an upstairs balcony, stairs leading down to street level and a row of cars in the parking lot. Sam is leaning on the railing. The acrid smell of cigarette smoke hits Bucky's hindbrain like a direct punch to the memories, the way smell sometimes can.

"I didn't even know people smoked these days," he says, and Sam looks around with a faint smile.

"Only sometimes," he says, and holds out the pack of cigarettes. "Bad habit from my military days. Did they really smoke all the time in the '40s?"

"Only when we could afford 'em." Bucky takes one and holds it between his fingers rather than asking for a light. He doesn't know whether it's the serum or that entire hazy seventy-plus years of his life, but he doesn't actually want them, these days. But holding it is familiar. Comfortable.

"You should go back to bed," Sam says. "Long day tomorrow." He's just holding his cigarette, too, though smoke curls up from the tip. It's mostly unsmoked. Like an echo of a time gone by, the same way it is for Bucky.

"I know," Bucky says. He transfers the cigarette to his metal hand and rubs his eyes with his fingertips. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam says, and then, with a short laugh, "Not really. Didn't mean to wake you up."

"I know." Bucky runs his fingertips lightly over the splintery, badly painted wood of the railing. Somehow it's occasionally comforting, or at least satisfying, to find things that are broken and badly repaired in the future. He says in a careful tone, "Turnabout is fair play. I wake you up sometimes?"

"Sometimes," Sam says neutrally.

Bucky was actually sort of hoping the answer would be no, but he was afraid it wouldn't be. He makes a neutral, acknowledging sound.

"You're pretty quiet," Sam says.

"Mmmm." He hadn't realized the habit of not screaming was that ingrained. Well, it explained why the neighbors back in his thin-walled New York apartment hadn't complained.

"I didn't ask any questions because I figured it was your thing to talk about."

"Mmm-hmm."

Sam glances back at the half-open door of their apartment and then he stubs out the cigarette, mostly unsmoked, on the railing. "You know what? It's gonna be dawn soon. What say we both put on some clothes—"

"I'm wearing pants," Bucky says with a judging look at Sam's boxers.

"—shut up, and find an all-night diner. I don't know about you, but I could really use a shitty 3 a.m. omelet right now."

"We're not exactly in a metropolis," Bucky says, casting a glance across the horizon of roofs and water towers before he follows Sam back into their room. "I don't know how many all-night diners there are at a freeway exit in Indiana."

"Every freeway exit has a Denny's or a Waffle House. It's a law."

It is in fact a Waffle House, and they take a corner booth and order breakfast food. Bucky rests his chin on his metal fist.

"You could actually be sleeping, you know," Sam says, sounding faintly guilty.

"Not really." He wouldn't fall back asleep after an adrenaline jolt like that, but he doesn't want Sam to feel bad about it. "You want to talk about it?" he asks after a moment.

"Fuck no. You?" Sam asks, in something that is less sympathy and more a kind of parrying response.

"No."

The waitress comes by with a warm-up on their coffee. After she's gone, Sam says, "You know, if you ever get the urge—you know, insomnia being what it is, to go out and get mediocre waffles at two in the morning—"

"You don't mind if I do? Thanks, Sam."

"I'll go with you," Sam says, glaring at him. "Asshole. Just give me a kick or something."

And Bucky doesn't say anything for a moment, because he's thinking of nights lying awake in motels like the one they just came from, staring at the slow cycling of the neon sign outside the window and waiting for dawn, trying not to wake up Sam.

Except Sam is way too perceptive not to be aware of at least some of that.

He's not used to people getting him. That, more than anything else, is what makes him draw a quick, shaking breath, and wish he had something to do with his hands. Luckily he still has the unlit cigarette from the balcony, and he just holds it, moves it between his fingers.

"No smoking in here," the waitress says, coming by, in a "what kind of idiot ARE you actually" sort of tone.

Sam laughs at the look on Bucky's face. "World's changed a little bit, huh?"

"You don't know the half of it," and before he knows it, they're swapping stories of late-night diners in Brooklyn and cheap breakfast cafés in Delacroix, and Sam is laughing and Bucky is feeling the tension in his shoulders unwind and thinks Sam might be feeling the same way.

Maybe he will wake Sam up next time, after all. He thinks Sam really wouldn't mind.

#tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sam wilson #bucky barnes

[xaandiir]

Last Stop to Nowhere - Chapter One

AO3 Link | FF.net Link

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Summary: Ryan and Min got off the train, but spending several months away from home while dealing with a very traumatic experience on an interdimensional judgment train. Recovery is not instantaneous and one good band session does not mean that everything is solved. It's going to take more work, more talking, and being honest. However, it's very hard to have an absolutely honest conversation in the 1980s, especially with everything that both boys are withholding.

Warnings: Implied homophobia, micro-aggressions

Word Count: 3350

A/N: This is mostly an exploratory fic about Ryan and Min while I try to get a feel for their characters. They might change as time goes on, but it's mostly just so I can get to know them better!

This will take place post-canon as it will be exploring their characters within their post-train life. Since it takes place in the 80s, there will be themes of homophobia (internalized and external), mentions of the AIDS crisis, etc.

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Ryan opens his blearily. He stares up at the sky, dark with clouds rolling above him. It doesn't look like the typical sky that he would find on the train. It has relatively normal colors. They usually don't sleep in the open sky anyway. They like to find a place to stay indoors, away from the elements.

His head hurts. It's what starts to get Ryan to focus on more than just the sky above him. He shuts his eyes tightly and shakes his head slowly, like he could just shake the migraine out of him. Grass blades rub against his cheeks, scratching and making him feel itchy. His hand squeezes and he realizes that he is still holding someone's hand. He looks over his shoulder to find Min asleep beside him in the grass. His mouth is hanging open and he looks really tired. They've both been really tired lately in the castle.

Ryan shoots to sitting up, ignoring the piercing pain that runs through his head. He looks around, eyes wide. They're not in the castle. They're not even on the train. They're out. Ryan remembers the portal that opened and how they stepped out together and they're free. When Ryan looks over his shoulder, he recognizes Min's childhood home. They're--home.

"Min," he says, letting go of his hand and standing up. His knees are like jelly, so he almost falls over, but he holds himself up. "Min!" He laughs and looks back at his friend. His friend groans but doesn't get up, so Ryan shakes his shoulder. "We're home, man!"

Min's eyes flutter open. He looks at Ryan's bright expression looking down at him. Ryan can tell that the gears are turning in Min's brain. He is trying to figure out what the words that are coming out of Ryan's mouth means. "Mmph?"

Ryan kneels down. He touches Min's shoulder gently with one hand and lets his other hand take Min's. "We're home," he repeats again, softer.

Min stares at Ryan for a moment--longer than Ryan expected him to--before Min sits up. He looks over his shoulder up at the house. His eyes grow wide and he looks at Ryan. It looks like he's expecting Ryan to pull the rug out from under him somehow. But Ryan just smiles.

They get to their feet. Ryan keeps a firm hold on Min's hand while they look at the house. The lights are on. Someone in there is awake waiting for them.

Ryan knocks Min's shoulder and starts walking first. Min is forced to walk with him, being pulled along by his hand. Ryan can't tell if Min wants to run away right now--or maybe he just wants to stay standing still and let whatever is going to happen, happen. But Ryan knows that he needs to see his parents.

When they make it to the front door, Min is the one to knock. He still looks like he's going to faint at any moment. Ryan squeezes his hand and when Min meets his gaze, Ryan gives him a reassuring smile.

Min's father is the one who opens the door. He looks sleepy, but when he sees the boys, his fatigue is wiped away. His hair has grown grayer around the roots and he has new glasses. New wrinkles have embedded themselves around the corners of his mouth and his eyes. "...Min?" he whispers.

"Hi Dad," Min says. He tries to give his father a smile. "Sorry I'm home late, I-"

Min can't finish his sentence because his father's arms are around him. Ryan steps back a bit and leans against the wall of the patio. Min looks panicked and uncertain for a moment, glancing over at Ryan. Ryan tilts his head and gives his father a pointed look. Min seems to get the message and he hugs his father back.

"Where have you been?" Min's father asks. His voice is choked with more emotion than Ryan has ever heard out of Mr. Park. He pulls back and calls for his wife over his shoulder before he looks back at his son. "It's been months."

"It...has?" Min asks softly, his eyes wide.

"Where have you been?" his father repeats quietly.

Ryan sees Mrs. Park come down the stairs and she gasps when she spots who is at the door. She rushes out to join her husband in hugging their son. "Min-Gi!" she cries, hugging him tightly against her chest. "What--where in the world have you--?"

Min's mouth bobs as he hugs his mother back. Tears have entered his eyes and he grips his mother's nightgown as he hugs her. "I...I don't..."

Mr. Park seems to finally notice Ryan on their porch. He crosses his arms. "Has he been with you?" he asks in a tone that Ryan can't quite identify.

Ryan glances at Min again. Time didn't stand still when they got on that train. They spent months on the train, and as a result, they spent months missing from home. Well. Min did, anyway.

"I took him on a road trip," Ryan says. "To New York. I had a gig and I wanted him to be there."

"Min-Gi, you let him drag you all the way to New York?" Mrs. Park whispers.

"I insisted," Ryan says, waving his hand. "Min complained the entire time, so I finally brought him home."

Min stares at Ryan, looking confused and uncertain about what exactly to say. Ryan just gives him a thin-lipped smile, silently telling him to keep quiet.

"Ryan," Mr. Park says in a low voice. "I've always respected you. I have enjoyed having you around while you boys grew up. But that is utterly irresponsible. You took him without saying a thing to us! We didn't know where he had gone, if he was dead or alive or-" His face grows red with anger as he sputters for his words. "I don't want you coming here again. Min-Gi has to prepare for college after all that you did. We'll have to tell the police that he hasn't been kidnapped--You're lucky we don't press charges!"

Ryan holds his hands up and takes a few steps back, down the porch steps. "Alright, alright. I've got it. Sorry to cause such trouble." He stuffs his hands into his jacket's sleeves and looks to his friend. "Well, Min, I'll see you ar-" He stops and looks down. "...Goodnight."

Min stares after him when Ryan starts walking down the pavement towards the street. "N...Night, Ryan."

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

Ryan barely had any money on him. He realized that when had walked out of the suburban neighborhood and finally checked his wallet. There was not enough money to pay for a motel room, which meant that the money would have to go towards a bus fare to get him to his parents' place.

"Wonder if Mark and Tommy are still living at home," Ryan mumbles to himself as he sits at the bus stop. It's cold even though his leather jacket. He pulls it tighter against his thin frame, but he still shivers hard.

He hasn't been home since he left to start his band career. Even when he came back to Cranberry, he went straight to Min's house so he could see him. And now who-knows-how-many-months on the train on top of the year spent traveling the country...well. Ryan doesn't know how that will go over. He just hopes that he'll be let into the house.

Ryan hears the bus approaching. He looks down the street and the headlights blind him as it comes around the corner. He covers his face with his arm and feels a stabbing feeling in his chest. He inhales sharply and fights the panicked feeling in his chest as he pushes down thoughts of the train. When Ryan lowers his arm, the bus has stopped in front of him and opened the doors.

He pays the bus fare and sits down beside the window, staring out it as he bus drives. He's the only one on the bus besides the driver, and bad music plays over the dingy intercom overhead. The question of if he's going to be able to see Min-Gi again crosses his mind, but Ryan shakes his head to eject the thought from his mind. It doesn't matter if Min's parents don't want him around anymore. Ryan can still go to the Dumpty's Diner to see-

"Oh," Ryan mumbles. "He probably lost his job while he was gone for so long." He sighs and closes his eyes. Maybe it will be harder to figure out where Min is going to be. "And he's going to college soon...Maybe he won't even be in town anymore."

Ryan rubs his face, trying to wipe it from his thoughts. It's late and not the time to be wondering about all of this. What he needs is a big meal, a hot shower, and a night's sleep in an actual bed. He can think more clearly in the morning.

Despite having not been home in nearly two years, Ryan knows his way back home from the bus stop without even thinking. His feet carry him down the familiar streets through his neighborhood. He arrives at his childhood home: a relatively small one-story house that doesn't look like it would be big enough to house five growing children, but it still did well enough to hold them all when Ryan was growing up. He recognizes his mother's car in the driveway and their stupid welcome mat on the front porch step. Most lights inside are off except for one window. Ryan squints, swearing it's his own bedroom window where the light is coming from.

He sighs and brings his hand up. He hesitates. Part of him doesn't want to face his family--not after how things went down before he left. But he has no other choice. He doesn't have a van to sleep in anymore. This is the only place he can crash until he can get his bearings back in the morning.

Ryan shuts his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath. He brings his knuckles down on the door, letting his knock echo loudly inside the house. It's hard to hear anything through the door. He shifts his guitar case into his other hand, listening hard for any sign that his knock was heard at all in the house.

The door opens before Ryan can hear any footsteps. He stares face-to-face with his little brother Mark. Mark is two years younger than him, but he's grown taller since Ryan has been gone, and now instead of being roughly Ryan's height, he is taller than him by an inch and a half. His hair is still a little unruly with a couple cowlicks sticking up from his forehead.

"Ryan," Mark says. "Hey. Hey!" He laughs and throws his arms around his brother's shoulders. The guitar case slips from Ryan's fingers, clattering on the ground. He hugs his brother back, closing his eyes. "Whoa hey, you're crushing me."

"Sorry," Ryan mumbles, but he doesn't loosen his hug. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too." Mark laughs and awkwardly pats Ryan's back. Ryan doesn't want to let go, but he gets the message and pulls back anyway. "How's the touring life been?"

Ryan shrugs a bit. He bends down and picks up his case. "Oh. You know. It's been fine and all." He glances up at his brother. "Are Mom and Dad home?"

Mark's gentle smile is wiped from his face. He glances over his shoulder and then back at Ryan. "Let's go to my room, okay?"

Mark leads Ryan inside. Ryan looks around, his heart beating a little louder in his ears. The hallways are dark, but he can still see the gleam of glass on the walls from the picture frames. The house was always incredibly loud, except for when it was nighttime. Night was the only time that the house was not full of shouting children or loud phone calls or blaring televisions. Ryan could never stand the silence growing up, always preferring the loudness of the day. But right now, he thinks that he appreciates the silence more.

When they get down the hall, Mark brings Ryan into a too-familiar room.

"Isn't this my room?" Ryan asks. It doesn't look like his room. After all, he never had those posters or that bedspread or the books that take up the shelf he never owned. But this was the room he spent his years growing up in.

"When you moved out, Dad let me have my own room instead of sharing it with Tommy," Mark explains. He sits down on the twin bed shoved up into the corner of the room. "Tommy took over Mary's room when she moved out too. Mom uses Tommy's old room as her studio now."

Ryan nods slowly. "And my stuff?"

"In boxes."

Mark gestures for Ryan to sit down. Ryan sits in the desk chair instead of choosing to sit beside Mark on the bed. Ryan asks, "So they didn't just get rid of it?"

"No. It's in storage for whenever you were going to come back to get it."

Ryan's eyebrows raise. "And I'd be allowed back home?"

Mark takes a deep breath. "Ryan...You know Mom and Dad love you, right?"

Ryan looks away and shifts uncomfortably in the office chair. "You need better taste in posters," he says, trying to change the subject.

"It doesn't change that they love you."

His stomach twists and Ryan sighs. "It definitely felt like it changed something when I left, Mark."

Mark nods and looks down at the bedspread. Ryan watches him trace the patterns out of the corner of his eye. Mark purses his lips, looking like he's trying to carefully choose what he wants to say. Ryan doesn't give him a chance and instead cuts in, "I had girlfriends while I was on the road."

Mark's eyes light up. "Oh. Oh! Good! That's great, Ryan." He smiles encouragingly. "Mom and Dad will be really happy to hear that."

Ryan's skin feels itchy all of a sudden and he rubs his arms through his jacket. "I meant to--to come visit sooner. I'm sorry I didn't."

"It's okay." Mark keeps trying to catch Ryan's eye and Ryan looks anywhere but him. "I'm just glad you came home now. I really did miss you." Mark leans forward on the bed. "Tell me about how traveling was! Did you get to do anything cool? How were the shows? And the girls?" Mark laughs. He's trying so hard to keep things light; Ryan can tell how much he's trying. But Ryan just feels more and more sick. It feels like his time traveling around Canada was a distant memory. It was only his time on the train with Min that seems to take up his memory. Ryan couldn't conjure any memory of his old solo shows if he wanted to.

"Can I take a shower?" Ryan stands up and rubs his arms through his jacket again. "It's been a long day of traveling--it's why I got here so late."

"Oh yeah, of course," Mark says. He tries to joke, "Remember where the bathroom is?"

Ryan nods. "Can I borrow some clothes?" He rubs the back of his neck. "I need to wash mine." He hadn't been able to wash any of the clothes he'd originally brought for the trip after rotating wearing them while he was on the train with Min.

Mark ruffles through his drawers and offers a pair of pajamas to Ryan. Ryan doesn't relax until he's in the bathroom down the hall and has turned on the shower. The sound of the water hitting against the shower floor drowns out the sound of Ryan's heavy breathing as he leans over the sink.

No one knew that he had been gone for months. Of course they didn't know. He was on tour for a year. He talked to his family once every so often, but never for very long. They probably never noticed that he stopped calling for a few months. If he tried to explain about the train, then it would be preposterous. He was never even missing in their eyes. What happened to him didn't matter. All that would matter to his parents is if he got his act together and stopped liking men while he went to find himself on the road.

"God," Ryan mumbles as he takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. He felt so good leaving the train with Min. Now everything weighs on him.

He gets into the shower and closes his eyes. He lets the hot water beat against his chest. He was never one for hot showers, always preferring them cold or lukewarm at best. But the hot water steams and burns against his skin. It's grounding. It hurts even worse when he sticks his face under the water, but he doesn't move away. He was going to enjoy this shower. After several months of minimal chances at cleaning, Ryan wanted to burn off every last germ and speck of dust that clung to his body after his stay on the train.

Brief thoughts attempt to penetrate the hazy wall Ryan has created in the shower. Thoughts about how Kez is doing, if she will patch things up more properly with Morgan. Thoughts about all of the weird things that happened on the train, of his number, of how the door appeared to him outside the art gallery car. Thoughts about Min and how he's doing with his parents probably breathing down his neck, of Min's own experiences on the train. Thoughts wondering if Min is ever going to talk to Ryan again too after everything that has happened.

"I brought him onto that train," Ryan mumbles himself. He pulls his face out from the hot water and pushes the sopping hair out of his face. "We got out of there but--maybe he's glad that we're out. Maybe that's it." Ryan stares at the shower head and sighs, dunking his head back under the hot stream.

Ryan is in the bathroom for nearly an entire hour. He steps out of the shower and dries himself off with a towel as best he can. He is halfway through dressing in his brother's pajamas when he sees the shirt sticking out of his bag. He pulls it out, staring at the Chicken Choice Judy shirt. His thumb and forefinger rub against the soft material. He wishes that it hadn't shrunk. Ryan suddenly wants nothing more than to wear the shirt and feel like a teenager again, for that brief moment before he had to go on stage.

He puts on the pajama top and holds the shirt tightly in his hand. He leaves the bathroom, returning to Mark's room, but Mark has fallen asleep in bed. His leg is sticking out from bed and he isn't even under the sheets. Ryan chuckles softly to himself, shaking his head. He helps carefully move Mark's body fully onto the bed and pulls the sheets over him. Mark gives a garbed snore and rolls over, settling in the bed.

"Sleep well, Marky," Ryan murmurs. He leaves his suitcase and leaves the room. He pauses, glancing at his brother one more time, trying to feel like he's truly at home and just looking after his brother. But everything feels so different now. So Ryan just turns off the light and leaves down the hall.

He gets to the living room and lays down on the couch. He pulls down the throw blanket, putting it over him as best he can without it getting tangled in his legs. The couch throw pillows were always uncomfortable, so he shoves them onto the floor and settles onto the couch cushion itself. His feet tuck back in the cushions as he struggles to fit on the couch. It takes another hour for Ryan to finally fall asleep, feeling like a stranger in his own house.

#infinity train #infinity train season 4 #rymin #ryan akagi #min gi park #infinity train spoilers #xaandiir fic

[milfcodeddean]

Bobby-John the shapeshifter baby Season 6 Fic (to be named etc)

Part 1 PART 2 part 3 (future posts will probably be more organized I really haven’t figured out how to format or present this)

Dean didn’t spare much thought to appreciating the fact that this was the second time he had seen his own bloody corpse in the form of a shapeshifter as the alpha bled out on the floor of the Campbell’s panic room. He was too busy clutching the baby to his chest, cupping Bobby-John’s head and mumbling mindless reassurances, keeping the baby’s head turned towards himself. He didn’t want the kid to see the body, even if Bobby-John was just an infant, and even if his father was a monster, it didn’t sit right with Dean to just let a baby look at a body.

Dean was left out of ditch digging and monster disposal, mostly because Bobby-John gave the choking harbinger of a wail when Samuel tried to take him from Dean and Dean couldn’t quite get his arms to unbend from around the baby, but also because Dean suspected they didn’t want him around when they desecrated a corpse that looked just like him, with “delicate features” and all.

Dean thought perhaps it was some kind of bitter karma or fairness that Sam had been the black sheep among John’s family, and now Dean was the black sheep among Mary’s. Maybe they’d warm up to him, he hadn’t been trying to make a good impression. Maybe it would just take time. If they had Bobby-John maybe he’d try to visit - make sure they were treating the kid right.

He hated the idea of handing the baby over to a group of hunters. He knew in theory what John would have done with a monster baby. It was a thought he found sickening, and he felt a perverse gratitude that John was dead and Dean didn’t have to hear specifics of his ideas and plans. Instead he waited in a chair and bounced Bobby-John in his arms and adjusted the cuffs on his little striped jacket, and got kicked with a chunky little shoe for his troubles.

The rest of the group came back with barks of laughter and the clatter of shovels and tools being put away. Dean forced himself to relax in his seat, loosing his hold on the baby.

“Well, your more handsome double’s been dealt with.” Samuel remarked with teasing cheer, leading the group into the room. Dean nodded mutely. He let Samuel lift the baby out of his arms and appraise him. “And I guess your shifter daddy won’t be after you any more either.”

“You think he’s safe now?” Dean asked. Samuel shrugged.

“He’ll be safe as can be here at the compound, the Alpha’s dead and the other shifter’s won’t have the connection to look for him... we can’t exactly drop him off at the fire department, but he’ll make a fine hunter someday. Won’t you?” Samuel ended his sentence with a broad grin at the baby and a gentle pinch to his cheeks.

Dean’s mouth was dry. He hated the idea of any kid being raised as a hunter. But what options did he have? Taking the baby to Lisa? Saddling her with a baby she might not even think of as human when she was already burdened with him? Putting a target for shifters in her house? At least the Campbells had a home base, had enough adults to have someone here with the kid. Bobby-John - if they even kept that name- would have some stability and safety, not an ever-changing landscape out of a backseat window and the must of lonely motel rooms.

He gave them the carseat and diaper bag from his car and kissed Bobby-John’s plump cheek and put him in Samuel’s arms and left.

2 3

#Bobby-John #shapeshifter baby #6x02 two and a half men #dad dean Winchester #samuel campbell #dean winchester #my writing #bobby-John au tag #Bobby-John fic tag #I don’t have a solid plan for more than the next few ficlets but hey it’s something

[wastelandcth]

empathy - cth

summary: a wedding date with best friend!calum leads to new discoveries. 

anon requested: maybe a lil wedding date imagine with best friend calum to your cousin’s wedding or somethin 🥺🥺 and possibly the cheesy best friends to lovers trope!!

author’s notes: this one was fun to write, i haven’t done anything outside of the doves for a few weeks so it was a nice break! also, the origin story to the empathy hoodie, what more could you want?

masterlist || request

Calum was always down for a good time. That was one of the main reasons why you two had managed to become so close in your friendship. Whether it was spontaneous sleepovers with wine and crappy movies or going to the beach on a cloudy day to see if it would rain, Calum was always one text away. You were grateful for that, because moving to Los Angeles on your own had been such a scary and new adventure and you met Calum your first week there. It was almost like some magical force had blessed you with him because you two instantly clicked and you found yourself wanting to learn more about the guy with brown eyes who had spilled his oat milk next to you at the grocery store. 

It was even more of a blessing now, when your mother had called you a few weeks before your cousin's wedding to inform you that you needed to bring a date to the big day. Normally, that wouldn't have been an issue, but since you'd recently broken up with your partner of a few months and dating in LA was just an obstacle course not ready to be dealt with. So when you texted Calum two weeks before the wedding begging him to accompany you as your date, you almost cried in relief when he asked when you'd need him to pick you up.

The drive to the northern part of California had been eventful. Calum had decided that leaving a day early would give you enough time to explore some of the small towns along the Pacific Coast Highway. That day was filled with karaoke while watching the ocean waves pass by the car, eating way too many french fries, and laughing over memes and tiktoks. It felt carefree, the anxiety over the fact your family was about to meet one of your best friends soon gone as the sunset lit up the sky with pinks and oranges. Calum had stopped at a motel with pink walls that seemed to blend into the sky, the car coming to a stop in front of the lobby as you sat waiting for him to come back with a key.

You were watching him from the glass doors, chuckling as he smiled at something the receptionist had told him. He was wearing his favorite hoodie, a green one that you'd embroidered for him one day while you were both spending the spring day together. He'd been having a hard time writing at home so he asked if it was okay to go over and try to find inspiration there. You'd been working on a present for your sister's birthday present, an embroidery of her dog, when Calum had shown up. He'd sat down next to you while you both quietly worked on your own projects, the warmth from his body making you lean into him without even realizing it. It wasn't long before you had convinced him to take off the plain green hoodie he was wearing and let you embroider something on it. 

"What are you thinking of doing?" he asked you, a smile on his face as he watched you pull the fabric tight on the hoop. 

"Empathy,' you nodded, "Reminds me of you."

The warm feeling that settled in your stomach that day was something you hadn't felt before when you had been around Calum. It felt like when you had laid in the sunny grass a few months back when Calum had promised to show you around the city for the best spots to find peace and quiet. It was warm and safe and everything you'd never had before.

"We should get some dinner," Calum mumbled as he got back into the car, taking you out of the warm memories, "I saw a few places down the street that looked promising, maybe we could check them out?" 

"Yeah, of course." you mumbled and nodded, trying to forget the warmth in your chest. 

The wedding ceremony had come and gone, vows and tears shed from both sides of the family. Calum had clapped and grinned down at you as the groom and bride walked down the aisle, squeezing the side of your waist as he led you out after everyone started to walk towards the reception. Meeting your family had been less eventful than you had imagined, everyone seeming to take to Calum almost as easily as you had. Your mother had proceeded to tell him how much she had appreciated that you had a friend in LA and your father had talked with him about the latest news to come out of the soccer world once Calum had informed him that he also tried to keep up with league news. 

After dinner, which had mostly been your parents chatting with Calum while your sister snuck in teasing glances when Calum's hand found a place on your thigh. The warm feeling hadn't gone away since the day in the motel. The harder you tried to push it away, the more you noticed it. At dinner, whenever Calum's eyes met yours, you couldn't help but blush and lose track of whatever story you had been telling. During the ceremony, his hand had been in yours, the warmth of his body keeping you calm as you noticed the usually bounce of your nervous leg calmed down. 

"Do you want dance?" Calum whispered in your ear at one point, everyone else who had been sitting at the table had left, leaving just the two of you alone. His hand was still on your thigh, squeezing the exposed skin gently as he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Y-yeah, dancing sounds fun." you whispered and cleared your throat as you stood up with him, leading him over to the dance floor. 

Calum's arms were the best place on Earth, that's all you knew as you both danced the night away, your bodies pressing against one another as the songs slowed down and more and more people left. Your eyes met Calum, a smile adorning his face as he sang along to whatever song was playing, your mind was too busy trying not to blush as you leaned your forehead against his. A second passed between you two, both too afraid for things to change but both too eager to let anymore time pass, before your lips met one another. A sigh left Calum, making you eager to press your lips to him again when you felt the strong arms around your waist pull you closer. 

The moon was still high in the sky when you both walked out of the ballroom, Calum's hand wrapped around your waist as you both made your way back up to the room somewhere on the fifth floor. Your head was laying on his shoulder, a shiver running through you as you stepped into the room and were met with a gust of chilly air. You slipped off your dress in the bathroom, letting the silky material pool at your feet, and changed into whatever pajamas you'd managed to grab from your bag before you had rushed into the bathroom to give yourself time to think about what had happened that night. Calum was sitting on the edge of bed, his curls a mess as he looked up at you. The green hoodie sat next to him, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth as you watched the gears in his brain turn. 

"You seemed like you were cold, I thought you would want to wear it to sleep." Calum mumbled after a few seconds of silence, his fingers fiddling with the loose thread of his sweatpants. 

You nodded, taking the hoodie and slipping it over yourself, Calum's scent engulfing you as the green hoodie brought the same warmth you'd been feeling for the past two days. Calum's hands found their place on your waist again, pulling you closer into his embrace, and it wasn't long before you were on his lap. Your hands rested on his shoulders as you both looked at one another, something unspoken passing between the two of you before your lips met and Calum leaned back onto the bed with you in his arms.

taglist: @hoodhoran​ @finelliine​ @moonlightcriess​ @dinosaursandsocks @mxgyver​ @calpops​ @karajaynetoday​ @notlukehemmo​ @calumrose​ @devilatmydoor​ @lyss-xo​ @lowkeyflop​

#calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagines #calum hood fics #calum hood x reader #5sos fics #5sos imagines #5sos blurbs #5sos x reader #gemma writes #calum hood #5sos #5 seconds of summer