#'Beat the Whites with the Red Wedge' and I found it when I got REALLY into Russian Constructivism

[vampyrekatwrites]

Anastasia the Musical + Art

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝟒. ♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

"Hi! I hope u have a lovely day :] I was wondering if I could request an imagine where you're online friends with Gogy and one day you send him a picture wearing his merch and he can't stop thinking about it and finally ends up telling you he has a crush on you?? Thank you in advance :] I really enjoy your writing"

pairing: georgenotfound x reader

warnings: Zoom Video Communications none :)

links: | ao3 | request | masterlist |

⋆ song recommendation: Slowly by Josh Gilligan

(streamer bf gogy brainrot brrr) hello sweet anon! thank you for much for this request :) I love love love all the geo simps and their ideas. also thank you to my dearest LB for helping me with the plot help. happy reading, everyone! ♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

You tapped your fingers on your desk, nails clattering at you waiting to be let into your third Zoom meeting of the day. Usually, you got off with only one lecture, but because of upcoming exams, you were finding yourself in and out of virtual meetings and office hours. Sure, it was better than jogging from building to building, fighting the crowds, and searching for a seat in a packed lecture hall, but it was still wearing you down beyond belief.

You rested your chin in your hand as your window went from white to dark grey, the square with your name getting wedged in beside the professor. Everyone’s cameras were off, a thankful sigh leaving your lips as your head slumped down to lay against your arm, the danger of falling asleep suddenly becoming more prominent.

You jumped slightly as your professor cleared their throat, sharing their screen and beginning to ramble off facts listed on the slideshow. You played with your keyboard, focused on removing a crumb from beneath your spacebar that was almost unreachable. You usually took notes in the class, but today was just one of those days.

“... And with that in mind, I’m going to put you all into breakout rooms…” Your professor trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as they peered at their screen and clicked frantically to assign all of you to rooms. You yawned, smacking your cheeks and sitting up. You were determined not to be a shitty partner, at least. The white box popped up, inviting you to join breakout room four. That’s always lucky, you thought to yourself as you joined.

Once again, you were cursed to look at the buffering wheel of death as your internet struggled to sustain all your opened tabs. Please, just a little longer, you groaned internally, eyes dashing towards the receiver and exhaling in relief as your computer connected to the breakout room. You turned on your camera, eliciting your partner, George, to do the same.

You flashed him a smile as you struggled to open the article from the previous night. “Hi! How’s it going?” You greeted, not yet looking at him.

“I’m good, actually. How are you?” He engaged, his voice deep and tired.

You finally managed to split your screen enough so that you could see him and the article. “Yeah, I’m good too. Thanks,” you chewed the inside of your cheek, eyes skimming some of the notes you’d etched into the margins. “So, did you have any idea what,” you paused, squinting at the author’s name, “Robert A. Schneider means when he discusses how ‘men of letters’ fear the lower class more than anything?” You asked, as your eyes trailed across your screen to finally gauge his reaction, you were taken aback by his appearance.

His soft features and dark eyes made you feel safe. As he smiled softly, running his fingers into his hair, he seemed to be racking his brain for an answer. He opened his mouth to begin, detailing what you had previously thought with better articulation.

The two of you got through the basic questions the professor had scripted for the students, then finding yourself still stuck in the breakout room. On a normal day, your professor would have pulled everyone back into the call after the first few questions.

George swiveled in his chair quietly as he listened to you briefly explain your area of study. His kind smile made your heart flutter slightly. Deep down, you hoped the two of you would be stuck in the room for a while.

Soon your topics blended into what kind of movies you both watched, a debate on where you could buy the cheapest bread on campus, and what kind of party people the two of you were. After an hour, instead of worrying whether or not your professor was dead, you were swapping numbers and planning out how the two of you would turn the Florida Keys into the headquarters of your new cult where the members would all worship a separate bitchy philosopher.

You pulled one of your legs to your chest, resting your cheek against your knee as his laughing died out. “Okay, this might be a weird question, but I need to know why your webcam is so clear. Is it like an OnlyFans thing or…”

He chuckled. “Yeah it’s definitely OnlyFans,” he joked, making you laugh. “I’m actually a ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ” he mumbled.

Your eyebrows perked playfully. “You’re a what?”

He pursed his lips to fit the grin stretching across his face. “ᵃ ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ”

You snorted slightly. “Sorry darling, you’ll have to speak up. What was that?”

He wet his lips, rolling his eyes as he bashfully groaned. “I’m a Minecraft streamer.”

You giggled, him basking in your disbelief. He smiled a bit brighter as he shrugged, leaning back in his chair as you rambled off questions. “There’s no way! Nerd!” you chaffed, making him smile as if he liked it when you playfully teased him. “Are you super popular?” You asked, catching your breath.

He bit his bottom lip swaying his head slightly as if deciding not to answer. “Mmmm. Not really.”

“Well, come on, Georgios! Give me your Twitch user and I’ll be your biggest fan, I promise.” He laughed at your response, digging out his phone to send you a link.

“I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled.

After the class had finally ended, you’d learned that your professor was on the phone with their credit card company. In the following weeks, you and George were in constant contact, even becoming part of each other’s daily routines.

As you studied for finals, you’d turn on his stream, letting his voice alleviate some of the stress of your exams. He knew you were watching and would even drop hints for you in what he was saying, or he’d blatantly just ask what you were talking about in your essay for a certain class. After the stream would end, he’d call you either on Discord or the phone, just so it felt like the two of you were studying together.

Jokingly, you badgered him to send you some of his merch, threatening to buy it from a bootleg online store if he didn’t. He had only brushed it off at the time, but shortly after, you received a hoodie in the mail with his gamer tag printed across it.

It was late at night when you’d received it, the tiredness of your eyes and George’s dulcet tones lulling you towards the idea of a dead sleep. Yet, you were drawn from your pleasant relaxation with the shrilling of your doorbell. You shrugged out of your blanket cocoon, grabbing your phone and trudging down the stairs. As you tore open the bag, your phone buzzed with a text from George asking if you’d seen something that one of his chat members. You chuckled softly and dug your hand into the material, holding it out in front of you.

You snickered to yourself, running your fingers across the red patch in the center. You slipped it over your head, letting the softness of the fabric brush against your skin. You snapped a photo of yourself and stumbled back upstairs before sending it to him.

When you returned, George was focused on something he was crafting. His eyes darted down to one corner of the screen where his phone was probably sitting. His eyes flashed back up with a smug grin on his face as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. Your “Thanks sugar daddy xx,” probably didn’t help either.

“What, chat?” His voice came out slightly uneven as he bit back a smile. You skimmed what people were asking. “It’s not a nude. A friend of mine got something I sent them,” he answered nonchalantly, finishing up what he was doing. The chat began to spam quietly. “No, it’s not a maid costume. Jesus Christ.” He leaned back in his chair, grabbing his phone and opening your message.

A grin spread across his face, alongside the light dusting of rosy pigment settling in his cheeks. He chuckled to himself, quickly replying before getting back to his game. You scoffed at his response.

George (H325) Anything for my silly little baka

You curled up again, putting away your schoolwork and devoting your attention to watching his stream as you drifted off to sleep.

Once again, you found yourself at the mercy of your internet as you attempted to join the breakout room assigned to you. You almost jumped out of your chair when it finally connected and you found George waiting for you. You smiled slightly as he scrolled through his phone. “What are the chances?” You asked, pulling his eyes to you.

He grinned, clicking off whatever he was looking at. “I was just about to raid your inbox.”

You chuckled. “I almost wore your merch to class, just to out you to whoever my partner was,” you joked, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m glad it’s me then,” he responded. You began scrounging around for your article. After a beat of hesitation, George spoke up again. “Hey, I’m glad you like the sweatshirt…” You perked an eyebrow in his direction. “I actually haven’t been able to get that picture out of my head. I know it’s stupid,” he stated lightly, chuckling nervously. You could feel your heart beating in your ears. “It’s so lame, but I think I have a crush on you.”

You sat back in your chair, stunned. “I mean, the feeling’s mutual. Even if it’s lame,” you mirrored, winking at him. “I mean, maybe it’s not lame because I know I like you.”

He smiled to himself at your answer before chuckling, “Should we Zoom date or something?”

[marsofaries]

The Itsy Bitsy Spider {Katsuki Bakugou x Reader}

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Cursing, Blood, Assault

Summary: Your grumpy (and ridiculously attractive) neighbor helps you rid of the spider in your new apartment. Things grow from there.

Notes: fem!Reader, ProHero!Bakugou, Bakugou hates feelings

That’s it. You were moving out.

So what, that you just managed to unpack the last box in your new apartment? One look at that eight-legged... creature, and it was their apartment now. You weren’t trying to be dramatic, but spiders were the absolute bane of your existence.

This led to you shakily standing over the said arachnid, a large All Might mug trembling faintly in your hands. 

“Oh shit, oh fuck-- FUCK!” You shrieked as the spider took a quick dart to its left. Nope. No way.

It had taken about an hour before the spider was successfully captive. Another hour to finally figure out what to do next. 

And now there you were, pacing back and forth in front of your neighbor’s front door, mumbling failed greetings to yourself like a desperate prayer.

“Hi, I’m-- that’s not right. How about ‘I just moved in and--.’ God, I sound like an idiot.” Gathering all of your courage, you rapped three quick knocks on the front of the wood. The urge to bolt was suddenly very powerful.

“I swear to God, Shitty Hair, if you-- Oh.” The door was suddenly swung open to reveal the most gorgeous person you had ever seen in your whole life. With biceps the size of your head, the man completely dwarfed you in size. He almost took up the entire space of the door, his spikey blond locks brushing the top the frame. Vermillion eyes stared at you cautiously as you forgot everything you were about to say. “The fuck you want?”

As you made no move to answer, the Greek god of a man pulled his lips into a scowl. 

“What are you, a fucking stalker or somethin’?”

That definitely brought you out of your reverence.

“W-What? No!”

A scoff left the man’s lips, and you suddenly wanted nothing more that to kick him straight in the jewels. However, you were on a mission. A mission to rid a tiny eight-eyed demon from your living room.

“There was a, uh...spider.” You slowly trailed off, waving weakly in the direction of your apartment across the hall.

 “A spider? Really?” The blond questioned condescendingly, rolling his stupidly-perfect crimson eyes.

A light flush brushed your cheeks in embarrassment as you stared down at your shoes. You were sure he was going to slam the door right in your face. But he didn’t.

The man brushed right past you, marching right though your open door-- making sure to loudly mumble as many complaints as he could. You stumbled after the tall blond, failing to keep up with his abnormally long strides.

You watched in silence as he crouched by the downturned mug, raising a single perfectly-sculpted brow. However, your silence was quickly turned into a squeak of horror when your neighbor dumped the spider into his bare-hand. 

For a moment of absolute terror, you thought the stranger was going to throw it at you.

Wide-eyed, you watched as he pushed open the nearest window and placed the spider on the railing of your fire-escape. Having pushed the window back down, the man turned back to leave your apartment. As he walked past, he shoved the now (thankfully) empty mug to your chest.

“W-wait!”

He paused, sliding his crimson gaze to yours.

“M-My name is (Y/L/N)… (Y/L/N) (Y/N).”

You weren’t quite sure why you felt the need to give him your name. Maybe it was because he helped you when you were absolutely sure he wouldn’t. Or maybe how he decided to let the bug free instead of kill it. Maybe it was the amused huff he let out when he heard your terrified squeak. Perhaps it was all three. You didn’t know.

His striking red eyes suddenly raked your frame before a smirk settled confidently on his all-too-attractive lips.

“Bakugou Katsuki.”

~~~

“HOLD THE FUCKING DOOR!” 

You let out a squeak at the sudden yell, sticking the toe of your nude-colored pumps between the sliding elevator doors. A muscled arm wedged itself between the doors, pulling them back open.

“You.” You breathed as none other than your extremely hot neighbor was revealed. The blond was clad in a loose black V-neck and sweatpants-- a large duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. His hair was slightly damp, as small beads of water dropped off the edge of his spikes every couple of seconds.

“Stalker.” He acknowledged with a grunt. The corner of Bakugou’s lips shot up at your protests.

The ride down to the lobby was relatively silent and slightly awkward. You kept switching your weight on both legs as you struggled to find something to say.

“The fuck you dressed so fancy for?” The explosive blond finally said. You couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief at the break in silence.

“I got a new job at All Might Bank!” You were pretty excited, as it was your first day. The bank itself was pretty fancy, and you were cheery that it was named after the old symbol of peace. All Might had been your favorite hero growing up but you grew out of your hero phase as you had gotten older. Nowadays you couldn’t tell one hero from the other.

You turned to Bakugou with a smile, content that he even cared about your life. It was quite a surprise when compared with the vibes he gave off.

“What about you?” You asked cheerily. 

“... Agency.” He grunted.

“Oh! Are you a model or something?” You knew it! There was no way that a man as attractive as Bakugou Katsuki was not the cover of every magazine. He was, just not for the reasons you thought. You watched in confusion as the explosive blond emitted a loud snort.

“Or something...”

DING!

You were almost sad as the elevator dinged, signaling the end of the ride. Although it was short, and mostly awkward, you found yourself enjoying his company. You walked side by side until you reached the doors to outside, pausing slightly when he went to part.

“Thank you.”

Bakugou froze at your expressed gratitude, studying your figure with renewed interest.

“You know... for the spider?” You seemed to lose all cognitive brain function when he looked at you with those frustratingly gorgeous vermillion eyes. Bakugou scoffed and turned away, muttering a quiet response. Little did you know that he was trying to hide a light blush.

“Whatever...”

~~~

You were happy to say that these shared elevator rides became a daily ritual, to the point where Bakugou started to bring you his delicious leftovers for your lunch (he made the meals especially for you, but would die before he ever admitted that). Before you knew it, you were quite smitten with the blond.

You couldn’t help but replay this morning’s occurrence in your head as you filed checking account after checking account.

 “Good morning, Bakugou-kun!” You called as you exited your apartment. You didn’t even have to look anymore. Bakugou had a habit of waiting for you outside your door to give you his most current dish. 

“Morning.” He grunted in response, hating the way his heart skipped a beat.

His eyes scanned over your form, (longer than considered friendly) as he checked your outfit. Bakugou always seemed to have some sort of fashion-ready advice on the tip of his tongue, and with you still thinking he was a model-- you were more that happy to comply. And also for the fact that he really did have a good eye for it.

“Undo the top two buttons… you look like a nerd.”

Your eyes quickly flashed to your white button-up, pulling at the two buttons with one hand.

“Better?”

Bakugou only grunted in approval. He was trying to act like he wasn’t on the verge of kissing the ever-lasting life out of you.

~~~

“Hey, Newbie! Get me a coffee, will ya?” You were quickly pulled out of your daydream by one of your (slightly arrogant) bosses.

“Of course, sir.” You answered as you hurried to the other side of the bank. You’ve been at your new job (and apartment) for about a month, and they still won’t let up on the whole “newbie” stuff. 

You sighed as you waited by the coffee maker, situated right to the left of the big glass entrance. Oh, how you would have loved to pour that coffee right over your boss’ head. Too lost in your own head, you failed to notice the suspicious group of men heading straight for the vault until one of them grabbed your arm.

“What the fu--”

“EVERYBODY DOWN OR SHE DIES!” 

Oh shit! Oh fuck! Your mind was reeling at a million miles per hour. The man had pulled you to where your back was to his front, and had a blade pressed against your throat. It seemed to come out of the inside of his wrist, being a relatively deadly quirk if handled correctly.

Everyone within the pristine building froze but quickly dropped to the floor after some warning shots from one of the robbers. Another suddenly morphed into some sort of beast and marched to the steel vault door.

You suddenly wished that you had a more physical quirk, cursing it for being so useless in this situation. Yeah, you knew basic self-defense, but it would be futile with three other villains in your midst.

Minutes felt like hours, and you could only hope that someone had alerted the police and nearby heroes. You winced as the blade dug into the delicate skin of your throat.

A sudden explosion burst through the skylight of the building, raining glass shards on the hostages. All at once, people were screaming, running, and blast after blast started ringing in your ears. You let out a sigh of relief.

The heroes were here.

Using the distraction, you quickly gripped the man’s arm tight below the base of the blade. You pulled it away from your neck ever so slightly, ducking your head to pull yourself through the gateway you had created. Keeping your hands locked at the base of the robber’s wrist, you twisted his arm and shoved up-- forcing it to pop from its socket.

A sudden bump to your shoulder from a running hostage caused you to slip up on your little self-defense sequence, allowing the man to break from your grip. He whipped around to face you, holding his dislocated arm. You panicked, so... you socked him in the face.

He let out an enraged cry, thick blood gushing from his nose. You were a bit surprised with how easy it was to land a hit on him. You thought that villains would have been more prepared before robbing a bank named after All Might.

Oh, well.

You punched him again in the nose for good measure, and he was out like a light. His hot red blood coated your knuckles, and you gagged in disgust. Ew. You wiped the back of your dominant hand on you button-up absentmindedly, before being shoved to the floor by your panicking boss. Wow. Your limbs felt like mush now that the adrenaline was wearing off, and you suddenly couldn’t find the strength to pick yourself off of the floor.

A final explosion went off, followed by the most desperate and wretched call you had ever heard in your entire life. And the call... sounded suspiciously like your name.

Your eyes shot up at the scream, searching frantically for the owner of that voice. You knew that voice, you only ever heard it in grunts and light-hearted mocking sentences, but you knew that voice.

“Katsuki.” You breathed, eyes suddenly locked on familiar crimson irises. 

Relief flooded his features as he saw you, and was at your side in seconds-- dropping quickly to his knees. 

“Oh my god.” Bakugou breathed, grabbing your head and cradling it tight to his chest and-- what the fuck was he wearing? Wait, there was no way... he was the explosion hero you saw on the news! Holy fuck!

“You scared the shit out of me! Do you know how terrified I was when I heard there was trouble at your work?! And you didn’t answer your goddamn phone? Jesus Christ, (Y/N).” Worried rambles fell rapidly out of Bakugou’s lips, seemingly void of any filter. You would have been ecstatic by his cute little worrying if your mind wasn’t reeling by the fact that your crush neighbor was one of the top ten heroes in Japan.

He suddenly grasped both sides of your face and pulled back so you were eye to eye.

“Are you hurt? I swear to God, if someone hurt you-- I’ll fucking kill them.” Bakugou’s eyes were frantically scanning your face, looking for any sign of injury.

“...Katsuki?” You mumbled softly, and he immediately froze. He felt his heart lurch in his throat as his name tumbled from your lips. You, on the other hand, were completely, and utterly lost. “You’re a pro-hero?”

“....What?” Bakugou questioned dumbly. “You could have been seriously hurt and that’s the first thing you think about?”

“What? I thought you were a model.” You whined, lightly smacking his chest.

At this, Bakugou let out a loud laugh, and you just watched in awe. You had never seen him laugh before. Even though half his face was smeared in black makeup and little injuries littered his skin-- it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in your life. He pulled back to look at you, but suddenly froze.

“You’re hurt! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!” Bakugou shouted, spotting bright red stains on the front of your blouse. You quickly grabbed his hand, hoping to soothe his panicking.

“Hey, hey!” You yelped, gaining his attention. “It’s not mine.” 

You gestured over to the villain knocked out next to you.

“Holy shit.” Katsuki breathed, before turning his vermillion gaze back to yours. A quiet, amused huff escaped his lips. “So you’re afraid of a spider, but can knock out a villain?” He questioned teasingly.

A light blush covered your cheeks, causing you to force your eyes down. You suddenly noticed just how close you two were. You were situated about half way onto Bakugou’s lap, as one of his large hands softly held your waist. The other was still trapped between your own. This caused your blush to only darken.

“Hey, eyes up here.” Bakugou muttered, lifting his hand from your waist and to the base of your chin. You force your eyes back up to his, but couldn’t help but sneak a quick glance to his lips. However, Bakugou saw it, and that was all it took.

Bakugou crashed his lips onto yours, and you were quick to respond. You tangled your hands within his soft blond locks, allowing him to completely dominate the kiss. His hands held you tightly to his body, refusing to give even an inch of space between you two. He didn’t let go even as you pulled back for air, his lips chasing after yours.

Time seemed to stop while he was kissing you, and every one was distressed with the thought of losing you. It was soft and sweet, and then rough and desperate-- the sweet smell of caramel, of Bakugou, invading all of your senses. 

You finally broke for air, breaths mingling shamelessly. Bakugou rested his forehead on yours, wanting nothing more than to never let you go.

“I’m so glad I found you, Stalker.”

Bonus:

A low whistle dragged out across bank, turning the couples’ gazes over to a certain hardening hero.

“SHITTY HAIR, I SWEAR TO--”

The End.

Notes:  This was my first imagine! I hope you guys liked it!

The police watching the final scene like: 👁👄👁 can we go home?

[starksweasley]

protect you

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader, john b x sibling!reader, pogues x platonic!reader

summary: jj gets hurt and you can’t stand to see your favorite boy in pain, so you decide to do something about it.

warning: angst, fluff, some violence, swearing

word count: 2.2k+

It was an unusually quiet night on the banks. You were nestled between Kie and Pope with your head on the boy’s lap and your feet on the girl’s. The three of you had anxiously been waiting for John B and JJ to return from night surfing. Your brother had promised they’d be back in time for dinner at 8. You snuck a glance at Pope’s watch; it was 9:53. 

Your eyes fluttered closed and your hands hastily ran through your hair, something you did when you were nervous. Kie and Pope exchanged timid glances, well versed on your habit. “Y/N, I’m sure they’re fine,” Kiara whispered, but it seemed like she was assuring herself more than she was calming you down. 

You nodded but continued to rake your fingers through your now tangled hair. Pope let out a sigh and grabbed your wrist, causing your eyes to shoot open and land on his gaze. “You’re driving me mad, woman!” He exclaimed jokingly.  

A small smile wedged its way onto your lips but it instantly vanished when two stumbling figures appeared in your peripheral vision. You scrambled out of Pope’s hold, ignoring the grunt that resulted from you elbowing his stomach in the process. “John B?”

Your brother was making his way across the sand with JJ’s arm wrapped tightly over his shoulders. The blonde-haired boy looked close to unconsciousness and John B was struggling to support his weight. 

“What the hell?” You immediately ran to the pair, Kie and Pope hot on your heels. As you got closer, you noticed splotches of red painting JJ’s face and neck. “Oh my god, what the fuck happened?” You cried. JJ looked worse up close. Bruises covered his face, some purple and others still red. Blood had dripped down his features to his neck, completely soaking his grey tank. One of his eyes was swollen shut and the other was struggling to stay open. 

“It was Rafe and the other Kooks,” John B seethed. You looked over at him and noticed a small cut on the side of his face. Fatigue was oozing off of him in waves and he stumbled into your embrace once Pope and Kiara started helping JJ walk towards the house. Your arms wrapped around your older brother’s neck and you lulled him to calm down. “You know better than to get in a fight with those assholes John B,” you quietly scolded. “Even if they start it, you have to ignore them. If you get arrested for assault, we don’t have the money for bail- we don’t have anything left.” Your voice cracked at the end and John B felt a pang of guilt pierce his heart. 

“Hey-look at me, Y/N.” He tilted your head up until you could see his face. “You still have me. You’ll always have me, understand?” 

You quietly nodded and cleared your throat. “JJ, he-he looks so bad.” The tears sprung back and you had to force down a sob from escaping your throat. Your favorite boy’s mangled face popped back into your head and you felt an unexplainable rage fill your body. “What the hell happened?”

“Rafe showed up to our end of the beach with Topper and Kelce, don’t ask me why. But they saw us and started saying things.” John B nervously scratched the back of his head. “They, uh, they said something about you and JJ completely lost his shit. He jumped on Rafe before I could even react. I tried pulling him off but Topper and Kelce got involved and it was three of them against two of us. By the time I got to JJ, he was passed out on the ground.”

Your fists clenched and red seeped into your vision at John B’s words. You knew about JJ’s relationship with his father. The others hadn’t found out yet but he had gotten drunk with you one night and spilled his secrets amidst his tears. You had pulled his head into your chest and whispered sweet words into his ear until he had fallen asleep on top of you. After that, you two never talked about what he had told you, but you always made sure to keep an extra eye on him. JJ was strong, but he shouldn’t have to be. He had gotten enough beatings to last a lifetime; he didn’t deserve any more. 

“I swear to God, Y/N, the next time I see them they’ll get what they deserve,” John B muttered. You looked up from the sand and saw that you had reached the Chateau. “Go inside, John B. I’ll be back in a bit.” You shoved John B inside the house and shut the screen door.

“Wait, Y/N-where are you going?” Pope poked his head out from behind the door and Kie followed, leading John B to a chair so she could clean his cut.

You ignored your friend’s question and hopped on your bike, your knuckles white from the tight grip you held on the handlebars. “Just go inside! I’ll be back.”

You hadn’t touched a bottle of beer all night, but your mind was buzzing. Your legs fiercely pedaled your bike as you navigated the muddy roads. You were so consumed with rage that you didn’t even realize where you were going until you skidded to a stop in front of the Cameron house. 

You hastily dismantled your worn down bike and half ran, half stumbled through the freshly-mowed law. Laughter floated through the air and you instinctively followed the sound. You rounded a corner and turned right into the backyard. You could make out the back of Topper’s head and noticed that he was playing cards near the pool with Rafe and Kelce. Your vision only blurred further when you noticed that none of them had nothing more than a scratch on them.

“Hey, Cameron!” You called out, causing all three boys to whip around. A smirk tugged at Rafe’s lips when he noticed your advancing figure. “Y/N Routledge, didn’t think you’d ever come here, darling,” he replied smugly but his words flew right over your head. You couldn’t spit out a comprehensible thought before your fist violently collided with the Cameron boy’s jaw.

“Agh!” Choruses of grunts and exclamations filled the air as you clutched your fist in pain and Rafe tumbled to the ground. Kelce immediately moved to help up his friend while Topper menacingly stepped towards you, but you weren’t afraid of him. You weren’t afraid of any of them. The anger that was coursing through you overwhelmed every shred of rationality and you forcefully stepped towards Topper, causing him to stumble back in surprise. 

“You bitch!” Rafe was back on his feet and he made to lunge at you but Topper stepped in front of him. “She’s not worth it man.’

You didn’t know what came over you but a smirk decorated your lips as you abruptly spun on your heel and made your way back to your bike. The ride home felt longer than the ride there due to the throbbing pain on your knuckles but it didn’t bother you. Not much, anyways. Before you knew it, you were dumping your bike in its spot at the head of the Chateau and bounding in through the screen door. John B was the first to see you.

“Where’d you go?” His eyes slowly made his way down your body until they landed on your hand. “What the fuck, Y/N!” Your brother was instantly at your side, gently holding your fist up to assess the damage. His dark eyes scanned your split knuckles and a switch went off in his brain. “Did you get into a fight?”

You gently pulled your wrist away from your brother’s grasp and avoided making eye contact with Kiara and Pope who stood anxiously in the corner of the room. “I wouldn’t really call it a fight, maybe a confrontation,” you murmured. John B’s eyebrows rose so high they almost disappeared under his unkempt hair. 

“A what? Y/N, not even an hour ago you were scolding me for getting in a fight. How could you put yourself in that situation?” He rambled but you weren’t having any of it. Your hands flew through your hair for the second time that night.

“John B, you may be my older brother but you’re not my dad. You don’t get to lecture me for defending my friend.” The words echoed in the quiet room as you struggled to maintain eye contact with your brother. Without another word, you headed into your room where you knew JJ would be resting. He always claimed your blankets were the softest in the house but he knew he just liked the way they smelled like you-not that he’d ever tell you that, of course.

You tried to open the door slowly so as to not make any noise but you failed miserably. The loud creak of the hinges caused JJ to bolt up from his position on your bed. The two of you stood frozen, observing each other’s expressions. His face was considerably less bloody (you assumed Kie had wiped all of the blood off) and the swelling in his eyes had gone down. JJ was wearing a fresh tank but the tiredness of the night was plastered all over his face. Something pierced you in the chest when you noticed the broken state of the boy in front of you. 

“Y/N?” JJ’s lips trembled and that was all it took for you to rush to his side. Before you noticed what you were doing, your body had slid under the covers in the empty spot next to the golden-haired boy. His body moved towards yours as if on habit and he tangled his legs with yours. Your figures molded together and for just a little while, it felt like that’s how it was always meant to be. 

The both of you laid silently for several moments, your faces so close you could feel his breath on yours. You wanted to look into his ocean eyes but he kept his gaze cast downwards, too focused on tracing patterns into the bare skin of your arm. Your uninjured hand came up to gently cup his bruised cheek. “J?”

He perked up at the name only you called him. When his eyes finally met yours, you had to resist the urge to gasp. No matter how many times you observed them, you could never get used to the striking nature of his eyes. One look at them, and you instantly knew every feeling that was running through his veins. “Why’d you do it?” You quietly asked.

Suddenly, JJ’s eyes were everywhere but on yours. “They were talking about you, Y/N. Talking about how they’d fuck you on the beach if they had the chance.” His words were coming out louder and louder and you knew he was close to bursting. “I just-I couldn’t help myself! They don’t ever get to think about you like that. Not ever.”

“Hey, look at me,” you whispered. When he didn’t comply, you placed your other hand on his face as well. You lightly turned his face until he was looking at you again. 

“You didn’t have to do that for me, J. I can protect myself, but I love you.” 

JJ rolled his eyes. “I know, idiot. I love you too.” 

But you shook your head a little too fast. “No, J. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

The boy’s lips popped open into an “o” shape, something you would have laughed at if you hadn’t been so terrified of his response. Both of you remained in silence for what felt like days and you were about to pull away from JJ’s warmth when his lips finally stretched into a beautiful grin. “God damn it, Y/N. I’m in love with you too.”

This time a gasp really did escape your lips when you looked into his eyes. “Really?” You breathed out.

JJ rolled his eyes again, something you noticed he did quite often. His hands flew up to cover yours on his cheeks. You winced, very slightly, when his palm made contact with your torn knuckles, but he noticed. His face immediately scrunched up in concern. “What’s wrong?” He murmured. 

You shook your head but JJ wasn’t having any of it. He pried your hands off his face and observed them, sharply inhaling when he noticed the bruises. “Did you-did you punch someone?” He questioned, all too familiar with the marks.

You simply shrugged, trying to play it off nonchalantly. “It was just Rafe. And he deserved it.”

You expected JJ to scold you the way your brother had but were thoroughly surprised when he let out a boisterous laugh. There was no time to process your shock before the boy had wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling your body into his. “You’re fucking stupid, you know that?” He mumbled into your hair. 

“This coming from you!” Your tone was condescending but you smiled into his neck. JJ’s arms tightened around you, and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh. It was perfect. All of it was just perfect. The blonde’s lips wandered over your head, finally pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’ll always protect you,” he whispered into your skin.

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “All I need is for you to protect yourself, J.”

JJ chuckled at your words. “Not gonna happen.”

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 3

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support you've been giving to this fanfic!

CHAPTER THREE

It was a day of sunlight and cold smoke in New York. The clouds split above towering buildings, the sun shining in its full glory. You left the apartment earlier, scared to wake Bucky up, only for him to wake up to his stepbrother's roommate creeping up on him in the morning. You pushed Bucky's face at the back of your mind. Perhaps he just looked like someone you've seen before or you've bumped into. Who knows? New York is a pretty big city.

With your airpods plugged in, and your phone in your hand, you started running on the streets, greeting some people with a smile on the way, ignoring the pain on your head. There was Millie from the flower shop, Bob from the woodshop, Rex from the coffee shop, and Colin the friendly street beggar. After five blocks, you didn't know anyone anymore. Just some strangers on the street you see from time to time but never interact with.

Already nearing highway streets, you slowed down your pace, careful not to crash into some bikers or worse, these honking cars rushing to get to their 8-5 jobs. There was a pang of relief that rushed over me as you stood on the other end of the street, waiting for the walk sign to turn green. It was one of the things you loved working in a bar and handling your own photography gig. You weren't answering to no one and rushing to work like these angry hooligans. You both worked in the evening and on your own time. Steve wasn't a bossy boss who yells at his staff. He was just like one of you guys, but unlike you, he had a sense of leadership.

And you get to run every morning -- even though there was still a throbbing pain on your forehead. Peter will never be able to persuade you to go work in their company or in any company for that matter. But you must commend him for his unwavering determination.

You stopped at a convenience store after rounding a few more blocks and bought a bottle of water which you've finished right in front of the cashier who found her phone more interesting -- or perhaps she was just used to some girl finishing a bottle of water in mere seconds.

"Hey, where's the trash?" You asked. The trash can beside the counter wasn't there. She just shrugged and popped her bubblegum.

You walked away from the store, knowing all too well that she wouldn't say or do anything past chewing and popping her gum.

Right across from where you were standing was a tall, elegant white hotel adorned with golden flecks of some kind of shiny paint, which you remembered was Bucky's. It stood twenty something stories tall and wedged between a coffee shop and a pizzeria. On Sundays, whenever you and Peter would walk past it, he'd never forget to remind you that it was Bucky's "empire." It was no Chuck Bass empire but you must admit, that was one fine hotel.

You crossed the street and stood in front of it, a way of slowing down your heart rate just a few beats low. You were just about to cool down, anyway.

You admired the engrossed name of the hotel on the archway that led to the lobby: WHITE WOLF with a wolf headstone right between it, like the one in The Arcadian. A memory of Peter telling you how Bucky renamed it came across your mind. Before it was White Wolf, it was the Golden something. Apparently, Bucky was in a safari somewhere north or south? Maybe west. You honestly can't keep up with some of the stories. Somewhere in the face of the earth -- he was on a safari and came across a gorgeous white wolf with fur as white as snow, eyes as blue as the seas and skies. Bucky swore the wolf looked right into his soul. That was implausible but it did give him a good name for his hotel. He repainted the whole beige building white, standing out from the other buildings around.

A woman with no shoes made you tear your eyes away from the beautiful wolf headstone, screaming Bucky's name. You stepped aside and leaned in on one of the archway posts. There was a muffled noise coming from her. You removed your airpods to listen.

"...the hell is Bucky? You! Have you seen that son of a bitch?" She approached the valet boy. He shook his head no. Then she went to the uniformed man on his post or was it a podium?

"I haven't seen Mr. Barnes, madam."

You could tell by the sly look on the man's face that he saw his boss probably running down the street and taking a cab, but before even stepping foot on the streets, Bucky probably told not to tell.

The woman's lips were smeared with red lipstick, hair disheveled and was wearing a man's clothing, probably Bucky's.

Was this the thing that happened at his penthouse?

"Okay, I'm just gonna wait for him in his penthouse. If you ever see your boss, tell him I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, madam."

She went back in, hips swaying along with her blonde hair, not giving a damn at the strangers staring at her as she walked towards the elevators.

The uniformed man caught your eye and you gave him a small wave and a smile. "Crazy morning, huh? Okay, bye."

You chuckled nervously and walked away as fast as you could back to the apartment.

When you got back, Bucky was already up, eating something out of a bowl while watching something on the television. You ignored the memory of you staring at him as he slept safe and sound earlier.

Without looking up, he spoke: "Weren't you supposed to rest?"

You grinned as you walked towards the kitchen, and prepared a protein shake. Suddenly forgetting the wound on your forehead. It didn't hurt as much now.

"I don't listen to Parker." You answered. "I never do."

You set your airpods on the kitchen island then grabbed a shaker, poured in some water and dunked a scoop of protein powder inside. You shook the whole damn thing while approaching Bucky.

You stood beside the couch and faced television. It turned out he was watching some old cartoon.

The image of his hotel flashed before your eyes. "I ran past your hotel today. There was a woman looking for you."

He almost choked on his cereal. You could feel his head look towards in your direction but you ignored him, enjoying the chase between Tom and Jerry on the tv screen. "Can't believe this is still on tv." You commented.

"D-did she say something?"

"Kept shouting your name and stuff. Called you son of a bitch and all that." You stopped shaking the shaker then took a big gulp. "I hear she's planning to burn down the White Wolf into the ground." You stifled a smile, letting the liquid stay in your mouth for a little while. "Then find you and take all your money away."

He groaned, picking up on your tone. "Not funny."

"All of that was true except the last part, though." You finally let out a laugh then looked at him who now had his eyes back on the screen. "So, you leave your girlfriend alone up there? Then come here?" You would've said it was pretty low of him but this was Bucky. You knew he'd done worse.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"She's a girlfriend?"

"She's nothing but a one night stand. Don't have a girlfriend." He sighed, putting down the bowl. It turned out it was cereal he was eating. Cartoons and cereal. Wow. He really did act like an eight-year old. "Then after we... well, you know, she suddenly told me she loved me. I was drunk! Then I felt this rush, like a panic, then when she was fast asleep, I didn't know what else to do so I came here."

You knitted your brows and kept your gaze on him. Last night, he told you guys it was a long story. A thing came up. "That wasn't a long story."

"I was hammered and real sleepy. For me it was a long story." He replied.

You just laughed in response, then walked towards your bedroom. Before you could even finish your drink, Bucky shouted for your name. You yelled for him back.

"Will you come with me to the hotel?" Bucky's voice was loud but small. Like a child asking to go to the playground. It felt more like it with the muffled cartoon noises in the background.

You stepped out of your room, finishing the rest of your drink. A big gulp. Then you pouted at him. "Want me to drive away the scary woman?"

Instead of responding with a simple yes or a slight nod, Bucky shot you a wide smile with his shoulders up, making an accidental flex with his lean tricep muscles on both of his arms, and squeezing his chest muscles while he was at it. He held it for too long that veins were starting to show.

You diverted your attention from his muscles to his face. He tried to look cute as a button but in your view, he looked strained. Yet his smile never wavered. You finally agreed to go with him as long as he took a shower first, telling him he reeked of alcohol.

"Are you always this mean?" Bucky said, but his voice was light and not at all heavy or dark.

"Pretty much." You snickered before going back inside your room.

You were sitting on your yoga mat -- just finished some few stretches -- and watching some tv show on the HBO channel when Bucky came out of the bathroom. A towel hung low on his waist -- you didn't even bother to look at his toned details so as to not freak him out with all the staring since you've been doing that a lot since he'd arrived. You focused your attention back on the screen.

"Were you just working out?" He asked, ruffling his hair.

"Just some yoga." You shrugged.

You let him borrow an oversized shirt of yours. The entire time, he was behind your in your room. Bucky attempted to make some small conversation while you were rummaging through your stuff. "Cool space you got here. You photograph?"

"Yeah." You replied. "It's probably not convenient having a studio space inside my room but Parker and I couldn't afford a three-space bedroom, so yeah."

"It's still pretty cool." His response remained.

Your room was bigger than Peter's since you had to have your studio corner. He wasn't a space hogger or anything so he let you get the bigger room. You had little decorations in your room except for a few photos of college friends, old roommates, and you and Peter, a clock on the wall, some band posters from the 70's like Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith, and the lights you needed for your studio corner. On that side, on the other hand, had more things to offer. Products from previous projects and all the stuff you needed for taking photos like lights, backdrops, tables, a bunch of chairs, and whatnots. Then the walls were just plain white. Yet Bucky still managed to explore around until you found him an oversized shirt.

You threw the shirt towards him. He managed to catch it on the air without looking at it. A quick reflex.

"Do you have some of your photos here?"

"They're in the bar downstairs." You replied. He looked at me with both eyebrows raised, asking a question with his face. "I work there as a bartender and my boss lets me put up my photos on the wall."

"Well, I'd love to see them."

"Actually, there's a shipment coming this afternoon. There will be no people. You can come with me then." You paused. "Unless you have other plans?" There was a part of you that wanted Bucky to have no plans this afternoon. You had a feeling he didn't. You wanted to trust your instincts.

"I have nothing going on." Oh good. "I can show you how I make a mean drink while we're there." Bucky smirked then put on the shirt which had a Rolling Stones logo on the front. He looked down on it and shot me a smile. The shirt still fit him, hugging all his muscles but it was better than Peter's clothes who wear the tightest fits on earth.

"What do you think?" He asked, showing you his fit while still having the towel draped around his waist.

"You look like a rockstar." You blatantly replied. "And hey, I can also make a mean drink. Really mean."

"Please I make the best ones, doll."

"I'll be the judge of that."

[sophie-jen]

water lilies and tadpoles

read on ao3

James rolled onto his back. He looked up at the sun, shining joyfully in the cloudless sky, then immediately groaned, and rolled back onto his stomach.

"You look like a beached whale, honey."

James groaned again. "S'hot," he mumbled. 

"Why don't you go down to the lake and take a swim?"

James did not dignify this question with a response. His mother had been trying to kick him out all morning. She clearly didn’t want him in her way as she pranced around in her sunhat, gardening tools in hand. James was too miserable to care. He just groaned louder and rolled over again. But this was the wrong move, he realized belatedly, as he felt the crunch of his mother's favorite lilies being crushed under his weight. 

Five minutes later and a shovel shaped dent in his skull found James making his way toward the stupid lake. As he pushed his way valiantly through swarms of mosquitoes, he considered the very real possibility that he would drown in his own sweat before he ever reached water. 

The suffocating heat made everything hazy. Overhead, branches swayed. Leaves rustled. Underfoot, twigs crunched. Moss whispered. Streams of light danced around him. Birds croaked. Frogs chirped. A mushroom tipped its cap to him. 

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, it occurred to James that he might be lost. Just as the beginnings of panic started brewing in his stomach, his foot caught in a root and he went toppling down a hill. He rolled to a stop next to a small glittering lake, and groaned. This was definitely not the lake his mother had been referring to. He hadn’t known there even was another lake in this area. It really was quite small, resembling more of an oversized pond.

There was something emphatically off about the happy twinkle of the water and the ethereal glow that bathed everything in a golden light. He also couldn’t help but notice that the water lilies were eyeing him suspiciously. To their left, a large, judgmental looking trout poked its face out of the water, took a good look at him, and with a disappointed shake of its head, went back down to report what it had seen. And sat on an outcrop not three feet away, looking straight at him while her fingers combed through her long tendrils of red hair, was a mermaid. This was a little much for poor James to take, and mercifully, after one last groan for good measure, consciousness fled and everything faded to black. 

                                                      *

James gasped awake. He lay in the dark for a few seconds, contemplating the strange dream he had been having, before sitting up. As he did, something cold and slimy slid off his eyes and down his face, taking his glasses with it. He felt around for the glasses, slid them back onto his nose, looked at the lily pad that had dropped into his lap, and felt his stomach drop with it. 

"I thought it might help cool you off."

He looked over at the girl who sat not far away. She was looking at him with an expression of mingled apprehension and curiosity. And sure enough, when James looked down, he saw curled under her a long gray tail, scales shimmering in the sunlight. He had to make a considerable effort not to faint again. 

"I’ve found lily pads are really refreshing. I was afraid you had heat exhaustion or something,” the girl said. 

“Oh. Thank you.” James didn’t know how to explain to her that it most likely wasn’t the heat exhaustion that had caused him to swoon. 

“I'm Lily, by the way."

James considered her for a moment. Considered at what point between rolling onto his mother’s lilies and meeting a mermaid named Lily he had lost his mind. Considered the lily pad laying limply in his lap. Made a decision. 

"I'm James."

                                                      *

“So, uh…” James kept his eyes on the small blue fish eating out of the mermaid’s hand. He was trying not to stare at her webbed fingers. “You live here? In the lake?”

“No, I actually prefer to perch on tree branches.” She gave James such a deadpan look as she spoke that he was inclined to believe her. At this point, he was inclined to believe just about anything. 

“Yes, of course I live in the lake,” she continued after a moment. She turned back to the fish, which was stretching as far as it could out of the water, vying for her attention. 

“Ah. Right.” James mulled this over for a moment. “But where do you-” he paused, trying to think of the best way to ask the question. “Well, where do you, you know, live?” Well said. “I mean, have you got a bed at the bottom of the lake or something?”

“Yep. I even splurged on a water mattress recently.”

To James’ surprise, a snort of amusement escaped him. Lily smiled as she stroked the fish, which flapped its tiny fins happily. 

“Honestly, I mostly sleep on land. I like looking at the stars.” She gave the fish a final pat, before leaning back onto her arms, her tail stretched out in front of her, and tilting her face towards the sun. “I couldn’t really do that much back home.”

“Back home?” 

“I live in the ocean.”

“What are you doing here?” 

“I got caught in a storm and washed up in a river somewhere, so I swam up here.” She leaned over and lifted a clump of moss off the end of her tail, where a large translucent fin lay. The left portion of the fin was in tatters, and an angry looking rip spanned almost the entirety of it. "I can't swim properly with my tail in that state." 

"So, what, you're just stuck here?" 

"Until it heals and I can try finding my way home. But I honestly don't mind. I grew up surrounded by angelfish and dolphins, so lake trout and tadpoles have been a nice change of pace.“ 

Despite her lighthearted tone, she didn’t look particularly thrilled as she said it. James immediately felt compelled to do something, though what that something was, or why he even felt compelled to do it, were beyond him. Instead, his mouth moved of its own accord. "Oh, so you're usually surrounded by a much more so-fish-ticated crowd, then," he said, placing emphasis on the “fish”. He regretted it immediately.

“Did you just-” She looked at him incredulously, but James was thrilled to hear the laughter in her voice. “That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Yeah, my bad, won’t happen again.”

“Unbelievable,” she said through a giggle. 

Not wanting to push his luck, he stayed quiet, and they sat in silence together. The fish, realizing it wouldn’t be getting anything more from Lily, swam up to James and gave a hopeful wiggle. He stroked it distractedly as the mermaid next to him sighed and readjusted the moss covering her fin. James only hoped she couldn't hear the frantic whirring of cogs as he tried to make sense of the pretty redhead and her tail, quietly soaking up the sun beside him. 

                                                      *

"Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop looking at my tail."

"It looked at me first."

"It's impolite to stare."

"Social norms don't apply when your cousin is a guppy."

A lily pad thwacked James across the face.

                                                      *

The sun was beating down mercilessly. James sat at the edge of the water with his feet dipped in up to his ankles. He watched as Lily resurfaced, yet another trinket in her hands, and swam closer to add it to the row of eclectic objects she had set out on the sand. She called them her treasures, although they looked more like what a demented three-year-old might drag home from the playground. 

While she fiddled with what looked like a vaguely heart-shaped ball of algae, he examined one of the rocks. She had said it reminded her of the hammerhead shark that would dig up her garden in search of crabs. It was oblong and one of the ends was slightly flat. To James, the resemblances ended there, but Lily had been thrilled at the discovery, so he had smiled and praised how hammerheaded the rock looked. 

He set the rock back down and checked to see what Lily was doing. She was still poking at the green blob. Her hair looked darker now that it was wet, pooling like blood in her collarbones and trickling down her back in rivulets. He looked away as soon as she turned toward him, and stared intently at a chipped snail shell. 

“I know, it’s not very impressive.”

“What? No...” 

She raised her eyebrows in skeptical amusement. “I wish you could see the collection I have at home. I’ve got this gorgeous pocket watch I found with all these flowers carved on the back. It doesn’t tell the time anymore though.”

“Where’d you find it?” asked James. He slid into the water and made his way towards a water lily he had spotted. 

Lily hadn’t seemed to notice, focused on smoothing out the wrinkles of the snake skin she had laid out. “We collect them from shipwrecks,” she explained.

“That’s morbid.” He snapped the flower off the stem and waded back over to Lily and her treasures. 

“Is it? I remember when I was little, my sister and I used to go looking for sunken ships and scare the octopuses living in them.”

“Here, add this to your collection.” Lily turned toward him, and he handed her the water lily he had picked. 

“I can’t add that. It’ll start wilting soon.” She took the flower from him, her fingers brushing his as she delicately held the white petals. He dipped his fingers in the water to quell the tingles. 

“Oh. I just thought it was pretty.”

She studied the flower for a moment, before placing it in her hair and securing the stem behind her ear. He watched as she fussed with it, trying to get it wedged properly. “There. That way we can enjoy it while it lasts.”

“I can get you another when it turns brown,” James offered. 

“No, I like this one,” she said. “I don’t want to replace it. Some things are meant to be temporary anyway.”

                                                      *

"GAAAHHhhbrrggllslg..."

"Pipe down, you'll scare the fish."

James came back to the surface, spluttering and coughing. “This clearly isn’t working,” he wheezed. 

“Really? I thought we were making great progress.” 

“Funny, ‘cause I thought that’s the third time you’ve nearly drowned me.” James rubbed his eyes a final time and opened them. Lily floated next to him, her hair like a pool of blood around her. He pulled a piece of it out of his mouth. 

She rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, picking out a snail that had gotten tangled in the strands. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Well excuse me for having a sense of self-preservation.”

“You’re acting like I’m trying to kill you!”

“Lily, I don’t have gills! You can’t just push me underwater without warning!”

She looked surprised at his outburst, her green eyes were wide with worry, and James immediately felt bad. 

“Listen, it’s fine. I just got freaked out for a moment,” he backpedaled. 

Lily wasn’t listening. “Maybe we should stop.” 

“No, really, it’s fine! I’ll just make sure to plug my nose next time!” 

But she was already swimming away, and with a flick of her tail, she had disappeared to a place where he couldn’t reach her. 

                                                      *

The bite was oozing. Oozing what, he didn’t know. Didn’t really want to know. He had never thought he would be having to deal with fish bites. Hadn’t realized such small fish even had teeth. Evil little bastards. Always sweet and cuddly when Lily was around. But this was apparently a summer of firsts. 

He poked at the angry looking marks, and hissed. Lily would know how to take care of this. Fix it. He had no idea where she was. She hadn’t yet resurfaced. 

Not knowing what to do, he climbed onto the outcrop where he had seen her for the first time, and stretched out. Warmth enveloped him on all sides, immediately making him drowsy. As he drifted off, he thought about how unbothered he was. Everything was fine. He let himself be pulled under, into the depths of sleep, not worried in the slightest. She would turn up. She always did. 

                                                      *

He’s sinking deeper into dark blue depths. His legs keep up a frantic pace as he kicks, trying to propel himself forward. All he can see is her: her long, slender fingers, her wrists, her collarbones, glowing in the murky water as she hovers, ethereal. All he wants is to go to her, but with a laugh she turns and swims further down, engulfed by the darkness. 

He can just make out her tail undulating as she moves inexorably on, never slowing down. As he follows her, going ever lower, several jellyfish zoom by, their tentacles tangling together to form a billowing cloud of exhaust. Somewhere to the side, a school of clownfish float in a large reef together, studying. A preoccupied looking manatee comes out of a dense wall of seaweed and almost bumps into James, muttering an apology as it hurries away. 

James is undeterred, his focus only on the mermaid in front of him. She turns to face him, curls one finger in a beckoning motion, and her smile is a hook that snags him, reeling him in, pulling him closer to her. Her lips are moving. He can tell she’s saying something, something important, but he can’t understand her. The water is filling his ears, muting everything, and he strains to hear her, to make out something, anything. Panic rises in his throat as her face grows troubled, panic so thick it’s suffocating. He can’t breathe, and she’s floating further into the murky shadows, and he hates the greedy gloom taking her away from him with every fiber of his being. As she grows ever more distant, his panic grows, and he’s never felt so lost, so helpless. He has to reach her, to stop her, and she’s screaming, screaming his name, over and over and-

                                                      *

“James!” He opened his eyes, gasping for air. After several steadying breaths, the darkness began receding. He blinked while the world came back into focus. The panic he had felt so acutely was already fading, dripping through his fingers, leaking out of his ears. It was replaced by the feeling of solid rock under his back, the sun wrapping him in warmth, and Lily’s hands cupping his cheeks. Her face was right over his, her hair forming a curtain around them. 

“Here.” He felt his glasses being placed gingerly over his eyes. “You alright?” 

Lily’s voice was laced with concern, her eyebrows knitted so close together they were almost touching. Her face was so close to his that he could see every individual hair in her eyebrows. He focused on one hair that lay slightly askew, pointing towards a freckle on her eyelid, as he finished catching his breath. 

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just had a weird dream.”

“Oh. Sure. I have those all the time.”

“Really?”

“Oh, definitely. The other day, I dreamed that I had climbed up a tree, and I couldn’t get down. And you were in the water, and I kept calling you, and asking you to help. But you insisted that you couldn’t, because you had to practice your underwater somersaults. And I was so angry that I started picking crabs off the tree and pelting them at you. But you kept catching them in your mouth and eating them. And you were laughing the whole time. And then you said, ‘Look, Tulip!’ and did a backwards somersault with so much force that you created a huge wave that knocked me off the tree. And then I woke up.”

“Sorry about that.” James was trying very hard to keep a straight face. 

“I can’t believe you called me ‘Tulip’,” Lily said with a frown.  

She looked so genuinely offended that James immediately felt compelled to comfort her. “Like I would ever forget your name!” 

“What was your dream?” she said quickly. 

“Oh, I was just drowning.”

“Well that’s not bad. Why do you get to have normal dreams?”

“Probably because I know how to do backward somersaults.”

                                                      *

James stared at the water intently, looking for any disturbances in the smooth surface. In his hand, he held a freshwater mussel the size of a large baseball. Lily had dug it up from the bed of the lake for the game she had devised. She had informed him that the mussels' name was Petunia, mentioning something about the mussel reminding her of someone. 

He tightened his hold on Petunia, causing her to give an indignant shake in response. James had discovered that a firm grip was necessary when handling the mussel. She had a tendency to clamp down on his fingers when he wasn’t paying enough attention, and getting her to let go required threats of feeding her to the snapping turtle that lived nearby. 

A sudden ripple drew James’ attention to a spot on his left. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the flash of a tail flicking above the water. As he scanned the green surface, he spotted a smudge of red. Raising Petunia above his head, his eyes following the billowing of crimson under the water, he took a steadying breath, and aimed. He exhaled. Petunia went flying. 

“Fucking ow!” 

The cry told him he had hit his mark. The proud victor had only a moment to celebrate his success before a wave of water was flung in his direction, drenching him entirely. 

“Bit of a sore loser, aren’t you?” James smiled as the top of Lily’s head surfaced. Her eyes narrowed and the green flashed somewhat dangerously, but he took no heed. He was on a roll. “Seems I’ve o-fish-ially won!” 

His laugh was followed closely by a scream as Lily pulled him into the water, and he felt his nose being pinched shut as he went under, smothered by a wave of red tendrils. 

                                                      *

"You know I can't stay here." 

"Can't you? What's so great about the ocean, anyway? So it’s got dolphins. Did you know dolphins are actually vicious? I read that they kill porpoises just for fun."

“James-”

“And they’ve been known to attack people.”

“Are you honestly trying to slander dolphins?”

“I’m just saying, it’s a cruel world out there. But it’s safe here. I can guarantee you’ll never be attacked by a toad.”

“The other day, I woke up with a tadpole up my nose."

“Small price to pay.”

“Small price to pay for not being viciously attacked by a dolphin? Do you hear yourself?”

“I just don’t get why you have to leave right now. How could it possibly be safe? Your tail isn’t even fully healed yet!”

“It will be soon.”

Quiet settled over the little lake again. She broke the silence first. 

"Mermaids can live for up to 300 years."

"My dad is turning sixty next month."

“I want to go home, James. You can go home any time you want. You can be sure that you’ll be able to celebrate your dad's birthday with him. What about me? All I've got here are the tadpoles.”

"You've got me."

"What?"

"You've got me, haven't you? Or do I not count?"

"Of course you count, you idiot. You count so much, you have no idea." 

James' heart must have swollen so big it cut off the oxygen going to his brain because all he could come up with was, "I'm actually terrible at maths." 

She sighed. “I will miss you. But I can’t stay here forever, hoping you’ll visit me occasionally.”

“That’s not-”

“It is.”

                                                      *

The heat had somehow worsened. The pair floated in the cool lake water together, incapable of anything requiring any more energy. He could sense her presence, sensed it constantly, incessantly, tugging on his consciousness whenever he was around her. 

They floated in silence, the only sound coming from two particularly loud swallows. The birds were having it out over a spider they each felt entitled to. The angry chirping hadn’t ceased for at least the last ten minutes. 

James felt a ripple and saw Lily shift over and look up at the birds. She rolled her eyes and smiled at him. He felt the sudden urge to bottle up her smile and keep it stashed away, to take out and enjoy on special occasions. Instead, he dunked his head in the water and pretended with all his might that his heart wasn’t being constricted so tight it would shrink to the size of a marble and roll out of his mouth when he was sleeping. 

                                                      *

And then she was gone. Just like that, the lake was empty. James sat on the outcrop, and watched as a wilting water lily floated by serenely. A small blue fish poked its head out of the water. The fish looked around and then stared at James for a few moments, as though wanting to ask something, before diving back under with a small splash.

Here’s a painting that I think looks just like Lily

[mianavs]

facing a betrothed

part 5 of Cathexis

a/n: looking forward to writing more Illumi now that the build-up is done. sorry for the wait but the holidays are keeping me busy

wc: 2.3k

Cathexis

Ever since finding out the truth behind Illumi’s obsession with you, reuniting with him was something you wanted to avoid at all costs despite knowing better. You weren’t ready to face the man that intended to trap you in a contract marriage without a termination clause. But much like your first meeting, Illumi showed up by invitation of Hisoka and saw you exiting the bathroom as you towel dried your damp hair.

“What are you doing here?” Illumi asked, his usually unaffected eyes were fractionally narrowed.

“I’m sure it’s obvious, Illumi,” Hisoka answered on your behalf as he stood up from his seat, still clad in his white bathrobe, and stood next to you. You glared at the magician and took a step away from him.

“What are you doing, Hisoka?”

“Just trying to clear up this misunderstanding,” Hisoka stated with a smirk. “Don’t you think Illumi deserves to know?”

“No!” Your trembling grip on his arm did nothing to stop Hisoka and you could only watch Illumi’s reaction with wide eyes.

“Y/N knows you’ve been watching over her, Illumi. That’s the only reason she came looking for me.”

Illumi’s face was unchanging except for the tensing of his jaw before turning to you. “How long have you known?”

“Three years now,” you replied swallowing your unease.

“And the engagement?”

You didn’t fail to notice his choice of the word engagement instead of betrothal and it only confirmed your suspicion that he was onboard with the arrangement.

“Just recently.”

“I told you she wasn’t ready.” Illumi said turning to Hisoka.

“I thought she deserved to know,” Hisoka replied with a shrug but the smirk on his face only grew seeing Illumi toy with the needle in his hand—an indicator that he was discontent.

“This wasn’t something you could decide.”

“So when was I going to be ready, Illumi? In a couple of months? You don’t get to decide that for me.”

You were tired of getting pushed to the sidelines like your opinion didn’t matter. Hisoka might be a twisted individual but at least he had the decency to tell you what the future had in store for you.

“Your reaction is proof of your immaturity.”

“I’m being sold off to repay a debt, how am I supposed to react?” Illumi opened his mouth but you interjected with a bitter laugh. “Never mind, I remembered that I’m speaking to someone devoid of all emotions.”

You were done with the conversation and threw the towel on the bed. You quickly laced up your shoes, eager to put as much space as possible between you and the duo.

“Leaving so soon?” Hisoka asked before his hand reached down towards your head. You caught his wrist and stood up. “I’m busy. You know that.”

Without another word to the magician, you shook off his hand and stalked towards the door. Before you could reach it, however, Illumi was there in an instant.

“We need to talk, Y/N.”

“I’m late for a job. We can talk later.”

Activating your nen, you pushed Illumi away and darted out the door without looking back. You reached the end of the hallway before your entire body went numb causing you to stumble and stop. It felt as if your arms and legs had fallen asleep but you carried on. The further you got, the more your body seemed to work against you until it culminated with sharp pains in the back of your neck.

The stabbing neck pain lasted throughout your mission of protecting your client’s rare emerald in transport from Kakin to Zaban City. It affected your performance to the point that the shipment was late and your displeased client cut your payment by half.

Those were the events that led to you to your family doctor who serviced your family long before your birth. The two of you were able to work together to locate and extract the golden nen-covered needle wedged into the back of your neck. You were baffled at the realization that someone had inserted that into you, until your doctor cleared everything up with a single question.

“What manipulator did you cross?”

Illumi.

It was Illumi.

The dream that you had after meeting him for the first time hadn’t been a dream at all. He actually broke into your room and inserted his needle into your neck. It dawned on you that the warnings and the bad feelings you had when you were meeting Hisoka were all because of Illumi’s needle that had brainwashed you somehow.

That day only, you wanted to run into Illumi. You waited the whole day for him to appear but he never came. Of course he wouldn’t show up when you wanted him to. With the needle sealed in a plastic baggy and stashed into your travel pack, you headed to York New to meet with one of your regular clients, Rivero Langstaff.

Over the past three months, Rivero had provided a good number of jobs for you. Despite the majority of them not paying a lot, they were usually easy to do and allowed you to make some quick cash on the side while a big job popped up.

It was late evening when you arrived to Rivero’s office building and the dark rain clouds covering the sky only made it that much darker. With the rain beating down on your umbrella, you walked into the building and greeted Rivero’s secretary, Margo. It was during your walk to the elevator with Margo that you sensed something was off. Rivero’s nen, while not very strong, was undetectable as the elevator approached his office on the 14th floor.

As soon as the two of you got off the elevator, you turned to Margo and sent her back down to avoid getting the innocent secretary tangled into whatever was waiting for you. Upon opening the office door, you found the office dark with Rivero’s body slumped over his desk. As you drew closer to him, lightning flashed and you saw the dark red puddle beneath his head that slowly amassed more and more of the desk’s surface area. Proving your suspicions, you then straightened your gaze to the figure that stood against the window.

Long black hair and matching soulless eyes stood immobile while facing you. Illumi’s collected demeanor had you seething but you steeled yourself to the spot you stood on before addressing him.

“Did you have to go this far?” Your voice shook from anger and you balled your hands into fists to keep them from attacking the murderer before you.

“We need to talk about the engagement.” Illumi stated in that absent-minded manner of his while ignoring your question per usual.

“I-I seriously...I can’t believe you.” You stammered running your hand through your hair before beginning to pace around. “Did the thought of approaching me like a normal human ever cross your mind?”

“I already tried that but you ignored me; therefore, I needed to take certain measures.” He stated quirking his head. He was mocking you and you’d had enough. Digging into your travel pack, you pulled out the plastic baggy with Illumi’s needle and threw it at him. He easily caught the baggy mid-air and it’s contents.

“More drastic than that? You really tried hard to control me didn’t you, Illumi.”

“Ah, I was hoping it would last longer.” He took the needle out and stored it in his pocket. “I guess it doesn’t matter now that—”

Illumi suddenly stopped and you sensed Margo’s presence getting off the elevator. In a fraction of a second, the two of you were by the door and you held his wrist while he held one of his large yellow needles to your neck.

“Just go and leave her out of this” you hissed while Illumi stared blankly down at you.

“But we still need to talk.”

“We can talk somewhere else,” and you hesitated before continuing. “Meet me outside of my condo. I don’t think I need to tell you the address, now do I?”

Illumi didn’t answer but still removed his needle and you let go of his wrist. You swiftly exited the office and met with a concerned Margo. After explaining Rivero’s death at the hand of a mysterious assassin and comforting the distraught secretary, Margo went back down to call the authorities and you left to meet with Rivero’s murderer.

Despite your instructions to meet you outside of your condo, you found Illumi waiting for you in your living room.

“Have you always broken into my home while I sleep?” You asked offhandedly while going into your kitchen and putting the kettle on the stove for some tea.

“Only when you’re training or after a mission. Although, I have never been to your ancestral home.”

He paced around the living room until he stopped in front of the framed pictures your mom had of you. Illumi took in your living room while you kept your gaze trained on him ready to stop him from venturing further into your home.

The sharp kettle whistle drew you from your thoughts and you quickly prepared the tea before fishing two mugs from the cabinet and bringing it all to the coffee table. With a mug of hot tea in your hands, you faced Illumi who sat ramrod straight on the couch opposite from you with his mug still on the table.

“So what do you want to talk about?”

“The conditions of our marriage since it is based on an agreement.” Illumi replied in that fake cheerful manner of his.

“And do I get an input in these conditions?”

Illumi regarded you for a moment, his mouth twitching into what you assumed was meant to be a smile, before answering. “Not really, but I’ll listen to them and depending what they are, I might allow them.”

“Hah…of course.” You replied bitterly before taking another sip of tea. You weren’t sure what you expected. You were the payment demanded by the Zoldycks; therefore, it was only natural that the agreement would be unilateral.

“My family wants the marriage done exactly one year after the engagement as is Zoldyck tradition. Until then, you and I are free to do as we please with whomever we please but as soon as we are wed, you are mine and I am yours until death.”

How romantic

“Fine but what about after we’re married? Will I still be allowed to work as a hunter or is it Zoldyck tradition to stay at home and be a good little housewife?” You couldn’t help but play along.

“It is Zoldyck tradition,” Illumi answered matter-of-factly either not picking up on your sarcasm or simply choosing to ignore it; you suspected the former. “But you can still work as a hunter if you wish as I have no intention of having children right away.”

The thought of raising Illumi’s kids and being a housewife gave you chills and you wished there was something stronger in your cup to get you through the rest of the conversation. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Ah, yes. We are a family business, therefore, once you become a Zoldyck a part of your wages will go towards the business.”

“Not much different than my current situation,” you muttered, finishing off your tea. You looked up to see Illumi eyeing you with a strange look that resembled curiosity.

“Why do you work so much?” Illumi inquired, taking the first sip of the tea that had most likely gone cold. “As far as I know, your parents still work as hunters and are very active. You also come from a long line of hunters yet you’ve been working non-stop ever since you got your hunter license.”

You set your mug down and readied the answer you’d been preparing since finding out about the engagement. For multiple aspects of your life, you would resort to making up half-lies that hopefully convinced him until the deadline.

“A long line of debt too. Our family has been in debt for a couple generations now and my parents and I have spent our lives trying to pay off the ones we can.” The entire time, you kept your eyes trained on Illumi for the slightest movement of muscle indicating suspicion but the stoic assassin remained still.

“I see. Well, you can choose to do whatever you want; however, I’ll continue to keep tabs on you until the agreement is complete and we’re married.”

“Right,” You swallowed and relaxed your tensed shoulders. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Yes, my family would like to meet you before the engagement.” Illumi replied setting his mug down on the table and standing up. “I’ll let you know when that will take place so you can make arrangements for it.”

“That’s fine but I’m letting you know that my time is precious and I expect monetary compensation.” You stated and stood up as well. Illumi’s jaw tensed the slightest bit before agreeing to your conditions. Grinning from ear-to-ear, you gave Illumi your bank account information knowing it’d be going back to him in the form of repayment.

With that, Illumi left and you took a deep breath as soon as you closed the door behind him. The dreaded conversation was finally over and you’d managed not break a vase on his head no matter how much you wanted to. Hearing the expectations Illumi and his family had of his future bride made you shudder in disgust but also served to motivate you to earn as much money as you could. You decided to call one of your clients to see if they had any work for you when you received a notification from your bank. Upon reading the message, a smile unconsciously creeped on your face.

[Deposit of 200,000 Jenny from Illumi Zoldyck]

[ickymichi]

𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝.

a tendou satori x reader series.

✟ there’s always been the one rule every person who’s been in a band knows not to break, never mess around with your band mates. but Satori was sick of the groupies, sick of catching the bra’s and panties that were flung at him every night. he just wanted the one thing he couldn’t have.

✟ warnings: swearing, eventual smut, eventual angst(?), drug use, inappropriate themes, comedy.

✟ things to know: band au!, some timeskip careers mentioned, slow updates.

✟ if you’d like to be added to the taglist just send an ask! <3

✟ word count: 1.8k

✟ note: first actual chapter of this series! it’s nothing big but obviously i wanted to get something written for this series! but i hope you enjoy my dears! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

all contents belongs to k1ttykawa 2021. please do not repost or modify on this or any other platform.

.:previous:.

.:next:.

.:masterlist:.

𝟎𝟎𝟐:. 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

The bright lights and screams from the small crowd in the underground venue was what brings you back down from the high you’re always on whenever you sit on the small bouncing stool behind the drum set on stages every second or third night. You heard Semi thanking everyone for coming and whatever shit he always says. Once you seen him bow and Tendou go to pick up the collection of bra’s and panties thrown on stage, you raised a hand and threw one of the drumsticks into the crowd, your own way of saying goodbye before making your way offstage. Semi and Tendou’s tall frames following behind, the same order as always.

The sweat was pouring out of you, tonight being more of a wilder one than the usual calm sets you’ve been having in bars or party’s recently. they were easy money, but they got boring after just a few hours. so all three of you were in desperate need of a night like tonight.

Turning the corner of the small, dark corridor to your dressing room for tonight you were met with the stench of weed, 3 different girls on the beat up leather couch, a rolled joint in one of the girls hands and white lines on a tray to the others left. Like always, you went straight to the showers to get the scent of sweat and fake smoke of you.

You really don’t know when but the cropped black tank top you had on was ripped down one side but your usual headband you sported every show was missing and it now became you new priority to track it down. “Satori! Where the fuck is my headband?” you stomped back out to see the wanted man desperately trying to pull the tight leather pants down his lanky legs. His head was whipped up to at the sound of your annoyed voice and then quickly darted his eyes over to the blonde that had previously rolled the joints and was now fawning over semi and his revealed tattoos. “oi” was all you muttered out behind her and holding out your empty hand—also noting some of your rings were gone. She turned her head to you with a scowl covering her features, which also revealed your missing accessory that caused your distress. “that’s her bandana and she’s quite obviously looking for it back,” Tendou quipped in making every one bar the girl laugh. After time, she untied it from the back and forcefully placed it back in your hand. Dramatically you held your arm, acting as if she pained you, tendou again laughing with you.

Finally you were able to hop into the shower and quickly get your self freshened and rub the accesses makeup off your eyes that was already smudged from your constant wiping, trying to stop the sweat dripping from your hairline.

“(y/n)!! please help me out of these, semisemi just keeps fucking laughing!” the peace and quiet you had was quickly interrupted by Tendou’s loud whining. “how the fuck am I not supposed to laugh when your walking around with them swinging around your ankles and your dick hanging out?” “what, Its out?!”

The large door separating the bathroom from the connected dressing room swung open and revealed Satori with his leathers pooled at his ankles and— surprising his dick not actually ‘hanging out’. “please help me sugartits, they’re fucking stuck even with my skinny ankles,” he hopped onto the counter and held his legs up for you to guide them off him. “well for starters, take your fucking shoes off!, and also I swear i saw these in the women’s section of some online store?” jokingly you shouted at him and moved to untie the doc martin’s around his feet. “yeah? You probably did, stole them from that chick that wouldn’t stop hanging off me last month,” both of you laughing at his silliness and falling into a comfortable silence.

The only noise was the voices off the others in the separate room and a recognisable Mötley Crüe song shaking the floor from the stage.

“what you think of tonight then?” the silence being broken by Satori like usual. “uhhh, it was definitely something but yeah, it was fun. Its nice to have a night like that every now and then, specially since we’ve just been in bars doing the same covers for the past two weeks. What about you huh?” he hummed, a noise of agreement showing he was listening, a habit you grew to learn. “I guess it was good fun yeah, although I didn’t appreciate nearly getting hit with a dildo within the first two songs. But I agree, it’s nice to do our own shit and not covers in a bar with a bunch of middle age boring shits. I think we’ve another show that’ll probably be like this again on Saturday.”

Saturday, today was Thursday so you’ve a nice day or two to just lie around, the other probably filled with travelling and setting up.

After about 10 minutes you had unlaced both his boots and chucked them onto the floor and not too long later his ‘borrowed’ pants joined them. “thanks chicken, lifesaver as always,” he pulled you into an embrace with one arm before leaving to find his spare clothes in the other room. He did always have the weirdest nicknames.

The night bled into the early hours of the morning, Semi and Tendou both getting their share of the girls there while you kicked your feet up, sparking up a conversation and passing the joints with your friend Taichi who was also your ‘manager’, he wasn’t really he just acted like it when venues would ask important questions and tagged along for the free show and nights at different clubs.

He was also the one who suggested you start moving to the motel down the street for the night before the venue boots you all out. Quickly you agreed, not fancying seeing any more glimpses of your friends and strangers body parts. Obviously the girls whined to the boys, asking if they could come, saying it’s dangerous for girls to walk home alone at night, “sorry ladies, but we’ll be sharing a bed tonight and I don’t fancy getting an unwanted facial on a Thursday night,” you butted into their persuasive conversation by wrapping an arm around the boys from the back of the couch and giving a friendly smile.

By the time you all got your equipment packed away and into the van it was nearing 4:30 in the morning and you, quite literally we’re going to fall into the bed. It wasn’t the nicest of places but you were just spending tonight and the next two there, unless you decided to go out after the shows and find some rando’s condo to spend the night in. All three of you pushed your way into the small room trying to get the edges of the double bed. And it wasn’t easy trying to squeeze through two 6’2 lean men, resulting in you again stuck in the middle of them staring at the blank roof, desperately waiting for the sun to rise so you could find some place to get food and away from the mess of limbs under the covers.

When you did wake up it felt like you’d only slept for two hours, when in reality it had been about 10. The afternoon sun melting through the old curtains and falling into your pillow. As you moved to see what had finally woke you from the deep sleep you saw Semi at the small table, his guitar resting on his knees and his worn, nimble fingers scribbling words on his notebook he kept for when lyrics would come to him.

“mornin’ early bird,” all you could let out was a groan, your mind still coming to its senses. “there’s food n’ shit there Satori went out to get it, we was the first up, surprisingly,” he breathed out the last remark before moving to pick up the red pencil and get back to writing lyrics before they left his head.

The food that Tendou got was still warm so he must’ve of been up long before you anyway. “where is he?” “beats me, probably wandering round like always,” quickly he responded and took the pic from between his teeth and started strumming a tune while humming, what you were guessing, was the lyrics on the page.

Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you pulled your phone from where it was connected to the wall by the charger and found Satori’s contact and pressed the call icon, moving away from the sound of Eita and his guitar you went to go outside and sit on the bench outside your rooms window.

“hello, hello,” his ever cheerful voice filled the speakers of your phone that was wedged between your shoulder and ear. “hey, I was just calling to see where you are that’s all,” you piped up when he went quiet, tutting when you realised you were out of cigarettes. “oh you know, just out sightseeing ‘tis all,” “cool cool, well i’m going to the store now you need anything?” he hummed into the phone, indicating that he was thinking of something he needed. “just cigs I guess and get me that drink I like while there, i’ll pay you later,” bidding him goodbye as the small shop on the corner came into view you slipped your phone into your sweatpants pocket and walked to the back where they kept the energy drinks.

Exiting the shop with everything you needed you walked to make your way back till you saw a familiar head of red locks across the street and quickly, but quietly made your way to his figure.

Sneaking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his middle, feeling his ribs press into your arms, something you’ve noted recently. He sucked air into his lungs and jumped slightly before laughing with you. “here you go your highness,” was how you greeted him and chucked him his requested items. “thanks muffincake, i’ll pay you back later I swear,” you scoffed and shook his offer off, suggesting you stroll around the city until Semi called either of you to ‘get your sorry asses back to the room’.

Your stroll progressed into a very long walk and by the time Satori suggested you head back with an arm around your shoulder it was already dark, the night life staring to come out of hiding. eyeing a club across the street you thought might be a good shout to visit in case you three got bored tonight, making a mental note of its location.

“Didn’t Semisemi say we need to go over the set list again cause, someone, messed up last night,” a sing-song voice dragged you out of your club browsing and brought a scowl to your face. “excuse me, you’re the one who told me we were doing ‘nasty’ after the interlude, prick,” he pulled his chin up and started to ‘think’ about your accusation before loudly dubbing it false; “nope, I don’t recall doing such a thing. I could never, but if it boots your already sky high ego then, of course I did my dearest apologies baby cakes,” “do you ever shut up,” “when i’m face first in pus-” “Don’t even!”

t a g l i s t: @evan-rose @elianetsantana @weebintheinternet @kuroos-roosterhead

please lmk if i missed you if your not there! <3

[redhoodedwolf]

Happy Halloween!

AU - College/University | Sterek | 2.2K | AO3

“Dude,” Stiles exhaled heavily, hands reaching up to cup Derek’s furred cheeks. His breath smelled of cheep beer, but his eyes were mostly clear, so Derek knew he wasn’t completely inebriated. “This is new.”

Derek snorted and hoped the low lights of the house party hid his blush because Stiles was only further trailing his fingers up and down Derek’s face, tracing the ridges over his nose, fingertips brushing his lips where his fangs pushed them out. “It’s a special occasion,” Derek joked. “Low budget costume.”

Stiles stared at him with wide eyes. “Really? Wow, okay.” Stiles’ fingers found his ears and traced the pointed tips, and Derek felt his eyes flash icy blue and a growl build up in his chest. It was more of a purr, but Derek would never admit that.

“You constantly amaze me,” Stiles sighed again, pressing his body closer to Derek’s as a group of three inebriated people with overfull solo cups wedged their way by them. Derek instinctively (carefully) brought a clawed hand up to rest on Stiles’ back and keep him out of the splash zone. 

Derek dropped his gaze away from the passing crowd, back to Stiles, and found the younger man’s gaze was trained on his lips.

“Are they sharp?” Stiles asked.

Derek bared his teeth. “I could rip your throat out with them,” he responded with a light snarl which choked off in his throat when Stiles moved his wandering hands towards said fangs, pressing pointer fingers against them. 

He hummed. “Very solid,” Stiles added, after a beat, thumb brushing Derek’s lower lip. 

This... this was flirting, right? Stiles was flirting with him. Right?

Because Derek had been pretty obvious (he felt) about his feelings towards Stiles for the past few months, since Stiles declared himself “recovered” from his last disastrous breakup. And Stiles had seemed receptive, teasing Derek back, ogling him during pick-up basketball games, and inviting him over to his dorm despite the fact they they literally shared a suite. 

But he’d never made any kind of definite move. This felt pretty definite. And he was feeling more of Stiles than he ever had, except for that one fainting spell incident that Stiles refused to let Derek ever bring up to anyone. 

Stiles was pressed against his front now, and Derek hovered his hand still at his back. Even when Stiles was given the space, he stayed put. Stiles met his eyes, and Derek swallowed thickly, visibly, and the younger man’s gaze wavered to watch the motion.

“Tell me, Wolfman--”

“Stiles.”

Stiles chuckled. “Sourwolf, then. How, uh. How interested are you in staying at this costume party?”

Stiles had mostly divested of his costume within the first forty-five minutes of the party. He went with a last-minute sheet ghost with an old painting drop cloth Derek had shoved in the back of his closet from the beginning for the semester. Now, it was tied around his waist like a really weird looking skirt, his white tank top plastered to his skin with sweat. 

“Not much left of your costume anyway,” Derek chose to say, allowing his sweeping gaze to linger on Stiles’ exposed neck before meeting his eyes once more.

Stiles licked his lips. “I think I’d rather just chill tonight. Got the free booze. Would rather pop on Hocus Pocus and...” his words trailed off as Derek found the courage to reach for Stiles’ hand, still on his face, and intertwine their fingers. 

“Movie night sounds good to me,” Derek followed up with in the ensuing silence between them.

“C-cool, cool, um. I’m just gonna--” Stiles cut himself off, squeezing Derek’s hand with his while the other cupped the back of Derek’s neck. Derek’s breath hitched, and he felt his eyes flash again. “Before I lose the nerve.”

And then Stiles’ lips were on his, and Derek exhaled a groan, finally allowing that hovering hand to wind around Stiles’ waist and pull him close. Stiles made a surprised noise that turned dark and husky as he pulled back from the kiss, meeting Derek’s eyes. 

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, and Derek chuckled softly. 

“I wasn’t sure if--”

“Me neither,” Stiles interjected, his face flushing a delicious red. 

“Shall we?” Derek indicated to the door, and Stiles pushed himself off of Derek’s chest slowly as he nodded. 

They held hands as they walked from the off-campus house back to their dorm, the full moon lighting their way, and Derek retracted his claws, so that he could properly squeeze back, and Stiles responded by brushing his thumb over Derek’s knuckles.

Stiles fished out his keys when they arrived, ushered Derek into the building and then raced ahead so that he could open the door for Derek to his room.

“Ever the gentleman,” Derek commented with a smirk.

“But of course, only the best for my sourwolf.” Derek snorted. “Speaking of which,” Stiles started wiggling out of the drop cloth sheet around his waist and Derek resisted the initial urge to help, “we should probably de cos--...tume.” Stiles stared up at him with wide eyes and let the sheet pool to the floor. “When did you...?” Stiles wiggled his hand around in Derek’s face.

Derek narrowed his eyes in confusion before he realized what Stiles was asking. “Oh, after we left the house I shifted back. In a house of intoxicated people I can get away with it, but even on Halloween a werewolf has to be careful.”

“Right, yeah, uh-huh.” Stiles was nodding his head like he understood, but his jaw was still dropped, and his heartbeat had suddenly sped up. “Of course. Wouldn’t want people to think it’s real. Or anything.”

Derek shuddered. He recalled childhood threats of hunters in their territory, tense weeks when he was forced to stay home for everything except school, always on guard. “Yeah. There’s not any hunters around here that we’re aware of, but they can hide even easier than we do.” 

Derek shook his head. He didn’t want to get into that kind of talk right now. He’d finally kissed Stiles, and he was planning on turning this evening into a date, if he could manage it. 

“Anyway,” Derek said, and Stiles’ jaw snapped shut. “I do want to change into something more comfortable. Want to set up the movie while I do?” Derek jerked his thumb towards the bathroom that connected their rooms. 

“Sure!” Stiles squeaked. His heartbeat was still fast, but Derek hoped it had to do with them growing closer, not something like... like Stiles regretting his choice.

Derek closed himself into his room and shook away the thought. This was Stiles, he reminded himself as he shucked off his jeans and looked for his comfortable sweatpants. He knew Stiles, trusted Stiles, in a way that he had rarely been able to with other humans. 

After changing, Derek rapped his knuckles on Stiles’ bathroom door to announce his entrance. Stiles’ heartbeat spiked, but leveled once Derek slipped back in to the room. Stiles had changed into sweats as well, keeping the tank top on. The sheet was on the floor next to his laundry bin. He was settled in bed, facing the TV atop his dresser, the Disney+ app loading on the screen.

“Still feeling Hocus Pocus?” Stiles asked as Derek took a seat next to him on the bed, a hand’s width apart.

“Sounds great,” Derek agreed, and watched Stiles scroll down to the Halloween section.

He highlighted the movie, but Derek saw Stiles hesitate to press the play button. Derek tensed, a sense of dread running through him that Stiles was about to admit he’d made a mistake.

“So you’re a werewolf,” Stiles said instead.

Assuming Stiles was setting up for a question, Derek responded with a flash of his eyes, “Yes. And?”

For a man like Stiles, Derek had been surprised at the lack of questioning regarding his supernatural status, but had always expected it to come eventually. He settled in for an interrogation that was months in the making.

Instead, what he got was another slack-jawed Stiles with wide eyes. 

Derek felt the sudden drag of fear slip down his spine, like someone had shoved an ice cube down the back of his shirt. Derek scented the air, and Stiles smelt of fear.

Derek jumped off of the bed and crossed the room, getting as far form the human as possible, wishing he had never learned what Stiles scared (of him) smelled like. 

“Wait!” Stiles shouted as Derek hastened. “Don’t leave!”

“You want me to stay?” Derek shot back, hysteria filling his voice. “You’re scared of me!”

“Like a baby bit, but honestly I’m more amazed than anything. How did I not know this?!”

“I thought you did!” Derek shouted. “I never would have shifted in front of you if I had--” Derek cut himself off, shaking his head. He clenched his fists at his sides and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“I’m not scared, Derek,” Stiles responded, voice closer, and Derek raised his gaze to see that Stile had stood from the bed and was inching towards him. “Surprised, totally. Flattered that you trusted me enough to tell me, even if, you know, you didn’t. Why did you think--?”

“It just seemed like you knew,” Derek stated. “You’re smart, almost too smart. I mean, I never stay in the dorms on full moons, and when we decided to share a suite this year you said--”

Stiles’ eyes widened as he seemingly recalled their conversation.

“Other than your full moon excursions,” Stiles had wiggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively, the breath sizing in Derek’s chest at the sight, “I know everything else I need to know.

“A-and you’re okay with that?”

“Derek. I wouldn’t agree to this if I wasn’t, dude. You be you.”

Stiles flailed his arms and shouted, “I thought it was a booty call! Which made me extremely jealous of your moon-day lover, but I was willing to deal with it if, um...” Stiles scratched the back of his neck, gaze drifting, “... I could still be with you.”

“I go to the woods. Usually,” Derek blurted, and Stiles’ head snapped back up. “I wanted to spend Halloween with you, since we always do, even if it’s a full moon tonight because I can handle it, I don’t need to, ah, let loose. It just is nice to have that option. So other than things like this, with you, I just camp in the woods.”

Stiles’ lips quirked into a little smirk. “The woods? I feel like you’re a cliché, Derek.”

Derek ignored the blush he could feel on his face. “It’s perfectly usual. And I do it alone, by the way. Unless my family is visiting, or I’m home with them.”

“A lone wolf cliché, too,” Stiles teased, and Derek groaned. “I can work with that.”

Derek unclenched his fists. “You were jealous?” he asked, remembering that little bit of revelation. “But that was before the summer. You--”

Stiles rushed at him and slapped a hand over Derek’s mouth, hissing, “I know, okay, my crush on you has been long and pathetic.”

Derek pulled Stiles’ hand off of his face, stopping himself from licking his palm instead in revenge. “But your ex?”

“Got over him immediately. Well, after my week of mourning.” Stiles admitted. “I was enjoying having you dote on me, a little. You didn’t spend a ton of time with us before you were forcing me out of bed to rejoin the world. And then after that, you didn’t go easy on me.”

Derek licked his lips and inhaled, then stilled the words on his tongue. Stiles stared at him expectantly, gaze darting about the room every few seconds. Derek scented him, just a bit, and there was no fear left at all, just the usual scent of Stiles, a bit of embarrassment, and an undertone of arousal. 

Derek took another deep breath and then said, “Okay.”

Stiles arched an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Derek dropped Stiles’ hand and put some space between them. “Stiles,” he declared. “I trust you, and I have for a while now, and you know that’s not easy for me to do. I also really like you, romantically, but that is not why I want to tell you this.”

“Derek--”

“I am a werewolf. My family are werewolves. I’m sure you have questions, and I will answer as many as I possibly can, but what I’d really like to do now is have a nice date night where we relax and watch some movies and maybe kiss for a while. And I promise to keep the fangs away.”

“You charmer,” Stiles cooed, reaching for Derek’s hands and pulling him back towards the bed and their previous spots, this time pressed against each other. Derek took hold of the abandoned remote and pressed play on the idle screen.

Derek was proud that Stiles lasted five minutes before opening his mouth. “So, you were smelling me earlier, right? You can smell emotions?”

Derek tipped his head back and groaned. “I regret it,” he declared.

Stiles pulled him into a kiss and forced him to take it back. He did. 

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Raise the Stakes, Part 13

I just had to sneak in one more part before the big showdown tonight. Aside from this, the card for Resurgence looks awesome!

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC x Jay White

Word count: 2,897

Content advisory: sexual content (not as graphic as previous parts, but still more than just mentions), language

Previous sections (and the prequel) available on the Master List

This is completely normal, you tell yourself. He has a big match tomorrow. He needs a clear head and sleep and, as he’s fond of telling you, he doesn’t get either of those things when the two of you are together. It makes sense that he’d want to spend tonight at his own place, by himself.

So why do you feel like something horrible is happening?

You close your eyes but the second you do, you get a vision ofJay lifting David limp body off the mat. You can still hear that awful crack of David’s unprotected skull hitting the chair and immediately you feel sick to your stomach, just as you had when you’d watched the moment unfold. You were as powerless then as you are now to change it. All you could do was follow the assistants who’d come to help him to the medic’s room.

By the time they got him back there, there was already a red welt visible on his forehead. He was barely conscious, growling at anyone who tried to help him until you approached. He hadn’t said anything, just leaned into your body and let his head fall on your shoulder. He wasn’t aware enough to notice that you were crying, even when a few of your tears dripped onto his skin.

You’d held him tight until the doctor arrived, her expression doing nothing to ease your mind. Nevertheless, after a thorough check, she pronounced that he wasn’t concussed and wasn’t injured beyond the obvious bumps and bruises. Not physically at least.

Of course, you’d insisted that he come back to your place where you could keep an eye on him and take care of the wounds he had sustained. Well, you hadn’t really had to insist. He was happy to go along, laughing at the way you tried to do everything for him. It became a rather hilarious tug of war, you trying everything to keep him still and him doing everything to annoy you, getting himself a bottle of water from the fridge, trying to make something for dinner until you’d literally smacked his ass repeatedly with a spatula, which had you both laughing so hard you almost fell down.

Getting him into bed was a battle, too, and once you got him undressed and relaxed, he’d immediately started to get frisky. He kept insisting that he was fine and had ended up spending time both last night and the first part of the day today showing you just how fine he was.

“I can’t wait until this weekend is over,” he hissed into your skin during one intimate moment.

You’d agreed because, despite the fact that there are other shows and other matches coming up, there does seem to be a sense of finality around their showdown this weekend. Sure after this, Jay’s going to calm down or get distracted and he won’t be so determined to screw with your lives.

“Never again,” Jay had fairly shrieked, sitting on David’s chest, clinging on to his belt. “You will never beat me again.”

Sure, his words made perfect sense within the context of their fight for the belt and Jay’s determination to avenge his loss months ago. But you knew that wasn’t it. The animalistic way they’d stared each other down before the fight, the rush to get started. Jay always loved to tease confronting an enemy but backed out at the last seconds toying with them until he was convinced he’d rattled their nerves. Not last night. He and David had gone right after each other, brawling like they were in a bar.

Thinking of that reminds you of a night you haven’t thought about in years, back in their early days, your early days, in the dojo. It’s not a night you should remember at all, given the condition you were in but you remember it, or at least the end of it, perfectly.

The three of you had been out drinking. Drinking a lot. You’d stumbled back to your barracks leaning on one another to form some sort of solid mass that could stay upright. You’d still ended up tumbling a few times, which was hardly surprising. You must have all had some kind of homing instinct because none of you could tell where the hell you were.

You knew that by the time you made it back, the door would be locked but your super power at that time was that you were small enough and flexible enough to get through the window in the kitchen that was stuck open. You’d needed a boost from the guys, which had taken a couple of efforts, but you were eventually able to scramble through and unlock the front door, albeit after crashing into so many things and making so much noise that there was no way anyone slept through it.

Your room was in another area of the building but you’d just headed to their room. You’d passed out on the floor on several occasions, always on the floor even though you’d already started sleeping with Jay by that point. The two of you were half-assed pretending that nothing was happening, even though you’d very quietly fool around before falling asleep.

You’d been keeping things a secret to avoid gossip but also, at least on your part, because you hadn’t wanted to hurt David. It was clear already that he was sweet on you and you’d figured that as long as it wasn’t right there out in the open, you could pretend that there was no reason for him to feel hurt. Later on, you’d confide in him about how miserable Jay was making you, but at that point, things were still fun, still inconsequential.

In retrospect, you realize this period must have been agony for him. Jay was a braggart and had advertised his conquest to his roommate pretty much right away, but from there, you’d all pretended that nothing was happening. It’s only been in the last few weeks that you found out just how much and how early he’d liked you. Going through that must have sucked.

But on that particular night, there was no problem because you were all feeling no pain, either physical or emotional. You’d ended up crawling up the stairs on all fours, basically pulling both of them along with you. Jay had informed you loudly that he needed to take a piss and you and David had somehow made it back to their room.

It was dark, which meant the two of you were stumbling all over the place, but eventually David had flopped down onto his bed and turned on the lamp that stood on the shelf just above it. Unfortunately, as he did so, he’d knocked the lamp backward and left it hanging precariously, wedged between the headboard and the wall.

“David, get the light!” You’d been laughing so hard you could barely get the words out. There were tears streaming down your cheeks.

“It’s ok,” he mumbled, laughing as much as his semi-conscious body would let him.

“It’s not ok, David, you have to get the lamp because it’s going to…” You could not for the life of you remember the word “fall” in that moment.

After a few more seconds, you’d gone over to retrieve the lamp yourself, not that you were particularly graceful at it, balancing yourself as best you could on the edge of David’s bed and placing one hand on the wall to try to keep steady, all while trying not to collapse onto David’s chuckling form.

Out of nowhere, he’d snaked an arm around your leg and pulled you down onto his face, which made you both laugh even harder. You’d been giggling as he clumsily pushed your panties out of the way and started licking you with sloppy enthusiasm.

“Oh my god, David, what the hell,” you laughed. “That tickles!”

Maybe you would have told him to stop, or he just would have passed out in the middle of what he was doing because he was just that loaded, but before either of those things could happen, you’d been interrupted.

“What the fuck?” Jay was standing unsteadily in the doorway.

You’d tried to shush him as you fell back a little, sitting on David’s chest. He was laughing too but Jay decidedly was not.

“What are you, eating her pussy?”

You’d just cracked up laughing. David hadn’t opened his eyes, just grinned in a drunk, goofy way and responded, “I don’t know. Sort of?”

“Turn the light off,” Jay snapped.

“I’m trying to!” Another wave of laughter rolled over you as you’d pondered the ridiculousness of not being able to turn off a light.

“Turn the fucking light off!” Jay yelled.

He gave it a hard kick and shattered the bulb, solving the problem. He’d helped you stand up and although you couldn’t see him well, you’d felt like David was already unconscious as Jay led you over to his bed.

He’d pushed you down and started pulling your clothes away, which was unusual. Part of trying to keep things secret was learning how to fool around without getting naked and being as quiet as possible. But that night, Jay had been insistent about getting you naked. He’d been rough and he’d been loud. And he’d bit and pinched and scratched at you until you were loud as well. If you hadn’t managed to wake everyone in the building up with your arrival, that must have done the trick.

The only person it didn’t disturb was David, whose light snoring you could hear while you were going at it.

Jay had never been one to stare into your eyes and focus intently on you during sex, not back then at least. He’d look at you, then away, like he was thinking of what he could do next, or what he could get you to do. But as you remember the night now, you realize that his eyes flickered repeatedly towards the other bed, vibrant with anger. You knew that Jay had come to see you as one of his belongings during the time that you’d been working for him, but it’s only now that you realize how early that had started. Even then, when he’d been very clear that the two of you were not exclusive, he’d been livid at the idea that someone else would touch what was his.

The son of a bitch would have known that David was hung up on you, too. He’d done his best to make sure that he’d hear him fucking you right there in the room, like David didn’t even exist. David who at that point was still his best friend.

You don’t know if David woke up while all this was happening. You hope he didn’t. Although he’d apologized for what he called “his behavior” the next day, you’ve never been sure how much he remembers. Certainly by this point, it might have faded from his memory entirely. You hope that’s the case. You hope he doesn’t remember it anything like the way you do.

In his position, you don’t know if you’d ever be able to trust you, to believe that your emotions weren’t contaminated or at least inconsistent. You can’t believe that doubts don’t start to creep in the second you’re out of his sight, which is why, although it’s understandable that he’d want to spend the night by himself tonight, you feel worried. The second he starts thinking about how many problems you’re causing and how much he’s had to deal with for years because of you, he’s likely to move to Siberia just to ensure he never sees you again.

And as if you weren’t capable of driving yourself crazy with anxiety on your own, Jay’s trying his best to make it worse. Since you are the talent liaison for New Japan in America and Jay is a New Japan performer currently working in America, you’re no longer allowed to stop him from accessing you and tonight, he’s apparently decided to take full advantage of that.

Your phone lights up to indicate another text message. You check every time because it could be David, or someone actually trying to contact you for work, as opposed to what Jay’s doing, which is trying to drive you right out of your mind. But it seems like no one has anything to say to you except Jay.

Are you alone or do you have to take care of your boy tonight?

I hope you’re not wearing him out. I want him to remember how easy it is for me to beat him even at his best. And I know how you can be.

Try not to think about me when you two are going at it.

If he’s not there, come over. I’ll keep my hands to myself if you do.

You know I can get women whenever I want but I never stop thinking about the filthy things I’d like to do to you.

Play the good girl all you want, I know you’re going to be thinking about that last text for hours. I’ll bet you’ll even touch yourself.

Send pictures when you do. No reason for us not to enjoy ourselves.

Wonder how he’d react if I told him you were coming over. Guess I could find out. Not like he’d know I was lying. Or maybe I’m not lying?

That last one does it. You can’t just ignore that because you don’t know if he’s going to make good on the threat. So you type back the only two words you can think of: STOP IT.

Ha. I knew you weren’t sleeping. And I’ll bet your sweet prince is back at his place because he wants to be focused for tomorrow. Poor boy denying himself his last meal.

You flinch and respond again in all capital letters: I MEAN IT. KNOCK IT OFF.

You’re tense. You should definitely come over. I’ll give you a back rub.

You should have just let him keep texting and gone to sleep, not that you can sleep because you’re so tense about things with David and the fact that Jay’s threatening to ruin them. Now you’re caught in one of his mazes that you can never seem to find your way out of.

Fine, you’re not coming over. Phone sex?

NO.

Come on, it’s probably the one thing we haven’t done before. Call me.

NO. GOD WILL YOU JUST STOP? I’M TRYING TO SLEEP.

I know how to help you calm down. Call.

Ok, seriously, let me help you relax. We don’t have to talk about you putting my dick in your mouth.

You roll your eyes and answer: Nothing with you relaxes me.

Seriously, I have a technique.

NO.

You’re no fun. Think I’ll bug Super Dave for a bit.

You don’t even text him back. You call because at least if he’s on the phone, he can’t be texting David to tell him god knows what.

“Well this is a nice surprise,” he purrs.

“You can’t do this. I need to sleep. Hell, you need to sleep. Just let it go, Jay.”

“I don’t really need to be well rested to beat Finlay. He got lucky the one time. Even you don’t believe he’s good enough to beat me twice.”

“Maybe I don’t care if he wins or not. Maybe I’ll be happy because I get to be with him one way or the other.”

“I’ll bet he cares.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No, come on, I promised I’d help you sleep and now you’re even more worked up.”

You try to think of a smart comeback but you can’t. He waits a minute before continuing.

“Are you lying down?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but yes.”

“It’s purely professional interest, I promise.” You can hear a dark laugh buried in his voice. “Lay flat on your back and close your eyes.”

You’re not sure why but you do as he says. You do need to sleep and maybe the bastard actually can help with that.

“I want you to breathe all the way in, really slowly, through your nose.”

You give it a shot and he immediately interrupts.

“Don’t do it like you’re angry at me. Soft and slow, until your lungs feel full.”

You comply, fighting to keep from getting angry at him.

“Ok, now exhale very slowly through your mouth. All the way.” When he’s satisfied you’ve done that properly, he continues, “Keep doing that, as slow as you can manage. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You can’t deny that you can feel your body start to relax after only a few repetitions.

“Now take your hand and place it over your face, right along the hairline. Just barely let your fingers touch your skin. Then run your hand down your face, all the way to your neck. Keep your touch as light as you can.”

The sensation makes you shiver but as much as you feel like your nerves are being activated, you also feel like you’re pulling the tension out of your body. He tells you to repeat this gesture a few times, always keeping your breathing slow and even.

“Good night princess,” he whispers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The line goes dead before you can say anything.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Buddies, 7.3k words, T, (pre-Eddie/Buck, gay!Eddie, coming out)

(ao3)

After Eddie was shot, there were two big things he had to deal with - recovery, and the near-death realization that he was gay. The latter of which proved more difficult of the two. But as his recovery was aided by a physical therapist, Eddie also found someone to help him come to terms with his sexuality and find acceptance. Eddie wouldn't know where he'd be if Michael hadn't taken him under his wing.

However, the consequences of a failed date - encouraged by Michael - lead to something Eddie didn't think he'd be facing so soon. Coming out to his teammates. Will Eddie find the strength within himself to push through his fears? It shouldn't be too hard... right?

           It’s too stifling for a fall morning in Los Angeles, Eddie thought, as he hopped out of the fire engine and sweat immediately dampened the collar of his jacket. He tugged on the fabric, huffing a tired breath through clenched teeth as he trotted after his teammates. Eddie soon fell into step beside Buck as Bobby began directing them where they were needed along the highway pileup. “Hen, Chim, attend to the drivers who are already outside their vehicles,” Bobby ordered, waving at the few bystanders leaning against cars and cradling different parts of their body, like arms and heads and one visibly bloody side with blood leaking through pale fingertips. Hen and Chimney immediately hurried there before the woman fainted from blood loss. Then, Bobby points at the two smoking cars fused together feet away. “Buck, Eddie, I want you to check on the drivers in each car and assess the damage. If you can get the occupants out safely, you have permission to do so.”

           They nodded, Buck’s face stretching with a grin as he locked eyes with Eddie. “We got this, don’t we Eds?”

           Eddie’s heart skipped at the nickname, and he blamed it on the weather. He blamed the warmth pooling in his cheeks, no doubt tinting his cheeks, on that, too. “Course we do.” He followed Buck towards the wreckage, asking, “Which one are you checking?”

           “I’ll handle the Corvette,” Buck said, “always wanted to have my hands on one, anyway.”

           “Guess that leaves me with the mini-van…”

           Buck shrugged, splitting off wordlessly to inspect the red sports car that, in this moment, resembled an empty beer can littering the floor of a house party. You get what you pay for, in the end. Eddie stifled his giggle, sobering to a more serious expression as he rounds the other, less-damaged, car. He found a young girl behind the wheel, staring straight ahead while white knuckling the steering wheel. An older woman sat in the passenger seat, knocked unconscious by the collision. He wasn’t worried too much, however, aware of the deflated air bags blanketing their laps. Eddie knocked on the door, “LAFD! Are you able to lower the window?”

           He startled the driver from her trance, shaky hands finally releasing the wheel and whipping to her face. She sobbed through her hands, a muffled sound that tugged on Eddie’s heartstrings.

           Eddie knocked again, softer, until she looked at him. He tapped the window slowly, “Can you lower this?”

           She choked on a breath, chest heaving underneath her safety strap as she did what Eddie asked.

           “Hey,” he began, reaching inside to click the safety off, “my name is Eddie Diaz. What’s yours?”

           “Ol-Olivia…” she stuttered, wiping at tears that continued to fall no matter how hard she scrubbed her eyes, “I’m… oh God, I’m so sorry.”

           Eddie unbuckled her seatbelt, checking for any cuts or abrasions because of it. The skin around her neck seemed red and tender from impact, a possible burn, but that was the extent of the damage there. “It’s okay,” he assured her, cradling Olivia’s head in his hands to better assess her injuries. There were scrapes and bruises there, dried blood crusting around her nose. Nothing that screamed ‘emergency’. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

           She sucked in a deep breath, then launched into her story. Eddie listened, running through a mental checklist while she rambled. “I’d gotten my learner’s permit a few months ago,” Olivia explained, “and I’m supposed to go for my driving test in a few months, for my birthday. In the meantime, I’ve been practicing all I can and I… and I thought I was ready for the highway. I mean, it’s not parallel parking, so I thought it couldn’t be that hard. But my mom thought I wasn’t ready and I… I didn’t listen and – oh, oh no! My mom -!”

           “Is okay,” he told Olivia, keeping her eyes on him and preventing any further sudden movement. “I promise.” Eddie surreptitiously scanned Olivia’s mother between beats of her story, noting the subtle rise and fall of her chest. “Is that how you got into the accident? Fighting with your mom?”

           “Well, partly,” Olivia explained, “I…” She hesitated, biting her lip and causing a few more blood droplets to leak past the cut there. Eddie waited, running his hands below the dashboard to check for any strain or damage from the crash that might make extraction difficult. There wasn’t any he felt. “It’s so embarrassing,” she muttered.

           “It’s okay,” Eddie said, smiling, “You wouldn’t believe the kind of calls me and my team have rushed to. I’m sure whatever happened can’t be as embarrassing as a woman stuck in a window because she tried throwing her poop out when the toilet wouldn’t flush.”

           That encouraged a tiny laugh from Olivia, and soon her earlier nerves from the crash disappeared. “I guess…” she sighed, dabbing at drying tear stains with her hoodie sleeve, “I was doing an okay job driving. Better than either I or my mom figured. But then this huge truck barreled by in such a rush that it shook the car and I freaked. I started screaming, and so did my mom, and I didn’t notice that we started drifting and… ugh, I felt like Cher, y’know? From that movie Clueless?”

           Eddie blinked at her. “You know what Clueless is?”

           “It’s a good movie,” she defended, “Plus that’s like… peak Paul Rudd. Although current Paul Rudd is also peak Paul Rudd… he’s really cute for an old guy.”

           He mostly agreed with her, only offended by her closing remark. Paul Rudd isn’t old.

           Paul’s ageless.

           Eddie stood at his full height, backing away to give Olivia space. “You think you can step out of this vehicle on your own?” She shifted, slowly freeing one leg and then the other. Olivia tried exiting, except stumbled after the second foot left the car. Eddie caught her, easing her to the ground. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hen and Chimney approach. “You’re very lucky Olivia,” he said, “you had a great car that shielded you and your mom from some pretty serious damage. My friends are gonna help you two out now. You don’t have to tell them everything, but be sure to answer all their questions and if there’s any pain, okay?”

           “Okay.”

           “Good.” Eddie rose to greet Hen and Chimney, quickly combing through all he learned during his short time with Olivia, stressing the most important pieces of information. “I still have to get her mother out of the passenger side,” he said, jerking his thumb at the car, “once I do that I can carry her to the ambulance so you can do your thing –“

           “Sorry Eddie,” Bobby interrupted, clapping him on the shoulder, “I’m gonna need your help with the other driver.”

           “That bad?”

           “It’s an older car, made with metal instead of plastic,” he said, “guy’s wedged in there pretty tight, cut up, too. And there’s a glass shard running right into his shoulder blade.” Bobby turned to Hen and Chimney, “Once you’re done here we’ll need you on standby to help us. No telling how much blood he’s lost so far, or if there’s any trauma below his waist.”

           “No problem Cap,” Chimney said, “We’re almost done here. Hen, why don’t you go with Eddie and Bobby while I see to Olivia’s mom?”

           “Sounds like a plan to me.”

           “Great,” Bobby led them to the other side of the wreckage, Buck absent from the scene. “He’s getting the jaws,” he told Eddie and Hen. Then, once they’ve reached the Corvette’s driver’s side, Bobby yelled into the open, broken, window, “Sir? Sir, can you hear me? Are you still with us?”

           The man groaned a few indecipherable syllables Eddie couldn’t hope to piece together. He exchanged a short glance with Hen, who appeared similarly unsure. Bobby, meanwhile, continued his one-sided conversation as they waited for Buck to arrive with the jaws.

           “Coming in hot!” he yelled, lugging the jaws over his shoulders, “Where you want me, Cap?”

           “Let’s start with the door,” he motioned Buck closer, pointing at the hinge. “Eddie, grab the middle. I’ll get this side. When Buck snips this free, we’ll gently lower it down and let Hen get in there.”

           “Copy that.” Eddie readied himself, crouching into position. He laid his hands atop the car door, small glass shards crunching under his gloves as his fingers curled. Buck and Bobby talked over his head, working to line up the jaws correctly. During this, Eddie chanced a peek inside at the driver.

           The face he saw, staring back at him, nearly knocked him off his feet.

           Fitting, as that was how it felt when Michael showed him his picture while convincing Eddie to go on a blind date.

           “He works with David at the hospital,” Michael told him, passing his phone over so Eddie would see what David’s co-worker, Dr. Brendan Carmichael, looked like. In the picture Michael found, a selfie from Instagram, Eddie learned more than he needed. That beside the bright, orange hair and freckles splattered across his face like someone flicked a paintbrush over his skin, he also maintained a very strict gym regimen which kept his abs in perfect condition. Eddie’s thumb hovered over the midsection Brendan revealed, careful not to like it on Michael’s account. “He broke up with his last boyfriend a few months ago, and only recently started talking about dating again,” he continued, Eddie tearing his gaze away from the phone to better listen, “David mentioned you, how you were wanting to date again, too, and Brendan’s interested in setting something up. Only question is… are you?”

           It was something Eddie was working himself up to. After breaking things off with Ana during his recovery, and Buck’s focus divided further because of Taylor, Eddie found periods where he was all alone with only his thoughts as company. Because of this, it was harder and harder for him to ignore certain stuff he’d pushed to the back of his mind and crammed into a tiny closet. Namely, his utter sexual indifference to women.

           Almost dying for the umpteenth time put Eddie’s life into perspective.

           He wouldn’t know if the next near-death call might finally succeed where others hadn’t, and Eddie realized how awful it’d be to go without following his heart.

           So he followed it all the way to Michael’s. Eddie knocked on his door late one evening, a fifth of whiskey in his veins dulling the voices shouting how this was stupid, how he and Michael were acquaintances at best and strangers at worst. Then, once Michael invited him inside his empty apartment, Eddie vomited his epiphanies until Michael set his shaking frame down on the couch and forced a glass of water down his throat.

           Since then, Michael had taken on the role as Eddie’s gay sponsor. Michael guided Eddie to a point where he could see his reflection and say ‘gay’ while smiling. He also pushed at the fear that still clung to Eddie, urging him to experience new things, like with this blind-date.

           “I don’t know,” he said, “he does look… really, really nice.” Admitting that never felt like pulling teeth with pliers anymore, thanks to Michael. “I’m just… not sure.”

           “What aren’t you sure about?”

           “I don’t know,” he shrugged, “I… I guess it’s nerves. I’ve never done this before, you know. Is there anything I should know? That makes it different than a date with a woman?”

           Michael shot him a flat look, snatching his phone back. “A date is a date. There’s nothing different about it because it’s with another man. Well… except for when the check comes, and you have to bare-knuckle brawl in the kitchen to decide who gets to pay.” Eddie returned the favor, brows leveling at his friend. Michael chuckled, “Seriously, it’s nothing you need to work yourself up about. Go into it like it was any other date. You’ll have fun – and I’m not laying it on. Brendan is a great guy, from what I’ve heard. He’s got charm and face, which is rare. You don’t find men like us in the wild every day.”

           “Men like us?” Eddie parroted, cheeks straining as he fought against the smile threatening to appear.

           “Me,” Michael clarified, grinning freely, “And Chris Hemsworth. That’s it though.”

           “And this Brendan guy,” Eddie added, “if what you’re saying is true.”

           It wasn’t, unfortunately.

           The night started with Brendan arriving late to the restaurant he chose because of its proximity to the hospital, and only further plummeted as it went on. Brendan criticized his choice in dinner, goading him into ordering an even pricier dish that Eddie hadn’t even wanted. Which Eddie then paid for, although he almost was stuck with the entire bill as Brendan assumed Eddie would cover it. It almost made Eddie reconsider Michael’s earlier crack about brawling. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Brendan’s personality rubbed Eddie the wrong way. He was dismissive of Eddie’s career, unsubtly scrolled through his phone during parts of the evening, and seemed entirely uninterested in Christopher to the point that Brendan interrupted any story about him with an unconnected anecdote, derailing the entire conversation. As the waiter left with their credit cards, all Eddie wanted was to put this date in the rearview behind him.

           Except Brendan’s phone died during dessert, and he didn’t drive himself. “If you could give me a ride?” Brendan suggested, slipping a hand behind Eddie’s button-down and petting his chest, “I’d be very grateful…”

           Eddie wished he could say he drove Brendan home without anything happening, that he was a stronger man. But Eddie gave in to curious temptation. He let Brendan guide him to his apartment bed instead of racing back home to fall asleep in an empty house, Christopher staying over at Michael’s with Harry.

           They jerked each other off in the end; a slight comfort over oral and miles above anal. Once Eddie came, he feigned exhaustion and settled in for a sleepless night. He laid in wait for the morning, where he snuck out of Brendan’s apartment as the rising sun filtered past drawn curtains without a word to his date. Eddie did leave a note, promising he would call soon.

           He hadn’t and had no plan to, either.

           Still, here Brendan was.

           “Cutting in three, guys,” Buck yelled. He proceeded to count down; on one, Eddie heard the snip from the jaws and belatedly realized he needed to move. Bobby swung a second before Eddie, and the momentum of the door made Eddie stumble in his haste to lift the door.

           “Eddie,” Bobby huffed, “You good?”

           “Yeah… yeah,” he nodded, dropping the door on the street at the same time Bobby did. “No need to worry about me.”

           Bobby didn’t believe him, but he stopped questioning Eddie in favor of looming over Hen’s shoulder as she worked on Brendan. Buck leaned against the roof, head ducked inside the cabin, too. Eddie stood apart from the scene as an outlier. He wasn’t sure if it was good to approach. Although, being fully removed meant he wouldn’t know what the other man might say in his condition.

           Only three people knew of his sexuality – Michael, David, and Brendan. Eddie wasn’t ready for that circle to expand.

           Eddie returned, joining the others. He entered to hear Hen finish her line of questioning, her last question prompting Brendan to speak. “The wound on my shoulder is superficial,” he said, gaze unwavering on the side of Eddie’s face. He felt the weight of it, Eddie turned to watch his co-workers instead of Brendan. Bobby’s focus didn’t waver from the crushed dashboard in Brendan’s lap, prodding it in different areas. Buck kept glancing between Eddie and Brendan. “It’s deep, but a clean cut. You can get to that later, because I’m pretty sure there’s something digging into my leg close to my femoral artery.”

           “We’ll get right to it, then,” Hen assured him, “Sounds like you know your stuff, though. You a doctor?”

           Eddie bit his tongue, swallowing his instinctual reply. “Yeah,” Brendan said, “I’m a doctor.”

           “Then that saves us some time.” Hen reached into her bag for a neck brace, placing it around Brendan’s neck while Bobby muttered something to Buck. Buck’s eyes flicked to his briefly before he jogged towards the fire truck. “We’ll have you out of here in no time. Can you tell me where you were headed?”

           “To lunch,” Brendan told her, “We had to push a surgery back a day, and my next one wasn’t until two so I… I thought I’d treat myself to something nice. I already had back-to-back operations this entire morning.”

           “What were they?”

           “Tumor removals,” he explained, “in the brain. Real delicate work. I’ve probably performed over a hundred by now, but I still can’t shake the jitters each time I enter the theater…” Eddie grimaced, hiding it behind his jacket collar. Yes, he knew about Brendan’s job. Hearing it in this context, on the field and not in a dimly lit restaurant, hit differently; like he cared about his patients and didn’t use his position as a point of status. This was not the Brendan he remembered. Regret churned in Eddie’s gut, mixing with the shame and embarrassment already present.

           “I know what you mean,” Hen smiled. She rubbed around the shoulder wound, cleaning it of dried blood to better inspect it. “You can have it all down to a formula, but you will never be sure what might happen when the time comes.”

           “Exactly.”

           Buck hurried back with new tools in hands. He handed a saw to Bobby, “Where do you want me?”

           “Other side,” Bobby said. He tapped Hen on the shoulder, silently urging her off Brendan. “Sir,” he started, “we’re going to be cutting the dashboard off shortly. Don’t be afraid to talk or shout if you feel any pain, okay?”

           “I understand.”

           “I’ll remove the wheel, first,” Bobby said, slipping a pair of goggles on, “don’t move.” He powered the saw on and, in seconds, removed the wheel. Brendan sagged somewhat, breathing stilted and ragged. “Are you okay?”

           “Yeah...” He coughed, “Think my ribs might be bruised, possibly broken. I don’t… I think that’s it. Not sure.”

           “You’re talking, so that’s a good sign.” Hen felt around his chest, then held her stethoscope to hear his lungs. “Nothing out of the ordinary here, Cap. Carry on.”

           Bobby, and Buck now, brought their saws to the dashboard and continued cutting. Hen waited, kneeling, holding a bottle of solution and gauze for when it was her turn again. Meanwhile, Eddie uselessly hovered near her. There wasn’t much for him to do.

           That wasn’t true for long.

           Suddenly he was very much needed, Bobby calling for him and motioning Eddie with the saw. He tripped over his feet, “Coming! Coming!” Rushing to help Bobby remove the dashboard that, along with the glass shard, pinned Brendan to his seat. In doing this, Eddie glimpsed the red-stained leather under his leg. “Hen!” he said, “All you.”

           Hen filled the space where the dashboard had been, attending to Brendan’s wound with practiced speed. As Eddie and Bobby returned, she fixed the tourniquet around his thigh and was partway done with wrapping his leg with gauze. And when Buck sidled towards them, she began removing the glass shard in his shoulder. It was much longer than a passing glance would make you believe. “Yikes,” Buck muttered, “You ever think a windshield could do that?”

           “Old cars like these?” Bobby replied, “Anything’s possible.”

           “He’s good for removal!” Hen yelled over her shoulder, kicking her bag a few feet back. She stands, dusting off her knees, “I’ll go get Chimney and the stretcher, be ready to help us set him down once we’re here.”

           “Buck and Eddie’ll handle that,” Bobby said, “I’m gonna do a final sweep of the area, make sure we didn’t miss anything. Copy?”

           “Understood.” Buck knocked shoulders with Eddie, nodding at the car, “Let’s go get the doctor ready for his ride back to work.”

           Eddie bit his cheek, letting silence give a better response than he could at the moment. If Buck found it odd, like Bobby, he didn’t comment on it. They walked to Brendan’s car again, Eddie going through the motions to get him ready for transit. In that short span of seconds, Eddie hoped his luck might keep his secret safe. That Brendan wouldn’t mention their date.

           He knelt down, waiting for Buck’s signal to lift his legs, when he made the mistake of finally meeting Brendan’s stare. Brendan offered him a tired smile. “This is so not how I expected we’d meet again.”

           …Shit.

           Buck stilled, his hands falling to their sides as he looked to Eddie. “You two know each other?”

           Brendan sighed in the affirmative. “Very intimately.”

           “What…” Buck’s face screwed itself into an expression of confusion, the rainbow wheel in his mind spinning endlessly while he processed Brendan’s innuendo.

           Eddie pounced to fill the awkward silence. “We hung out, once,” he told Buck, “Like, a few days ago, I think? Super casual…”

           “Oh –“

           “Oh,” Brendan interjected, darker than earlier. He coughed, voice straining from the force of it, but he wasn’t deterred. “Oh, really? Hanging out… that’s what you’re calling it?”

           “Uh…” Eddie, taken aback by such an unexpected call out, couldn’t produce more than a few mumbled phrases that didn’t move beyond one syllable nor, when strung together, were comprehensible. Instead he glanced between Brendan and Buck, wasting precious time with silence.

           Brendan, however, formed complete sentences. “So tell me… since I have you, were you even planning on hanging out with me again, or do you leave all your buddies notes like that?”

           In his anger, Brendan shifted and started angling himself towards Eddie. Buck snapped out of his stupor enough to lay a calming hand on Brendan’s shoulder, “Hey! Hey… sir, you need to keep still until we move you.”

           “Sorry, sorry…” Brendan relaxed, albeit his glare was still focused on Eddie. Eddie flinched under the weight of it.

           “I…” Eddie tried, very aware of the sound behind him, of wheels rolling over gravel and measured footsteps. “I was trying to be nice?”

           “Nice?” Brendan spat, “Fuck you, Eddie.”

           “Eddie,” Buck inched closer, drawing Eddie’s gaze from Brendan to him. He spoke softly, like Eddie were one of the many victims they attended to during their careers. Eddie also noted the sharp steeple Buck’s brows, drawn together as if he already filled in the missing gaps of Eddie and Brendan’s story. Shit. “Why don’t you let us handle this?”

           “I…” Eddie found breathing as hard as speaking, managing enough foresight to sharply nod before standing and striding away from Brendan’s car. He passed a curious, concerned Bobby, but ignored his calls. Eddie kept himself tightly wound all the way to the engine. Once he entered, he fell apart. Eddie’s vision blurred, his lungs couldn’t hold enough air, and he melted inside his uniform. All he was able to do before completely shutting down was shoot a quick message to Michael.

           Brendn in acidnt fine but h outd me what do

           Eddie’s grip on his phone tightened considerably when he heard the engine doors open again. Buck slid inside, not meeting Eddie’s wide, panicked stare. There were more doors opening, Bobby and other firefighters climbing aboard. “Hen and Chim are taking that guy to the hospital,” Buck said, “Our work here’s done.” He paused, gnawing on his lip, considering saying more while Bobby slowly pulled them onto the road. “What he said…”

           He missed the rest of Buck’s question. His voice dulled as a sharp ringing in Eddie’s head blocked out every sound around him. Eddie sunk into it, comforted in the simpleness of the noise. He pressed himself against the window, arms crossed over his chest, and watched the scenery blur during their drive to the station.

           Then, when they arrived, Eddie flung the door open and his puddled mass in a jacket spilled free of the engine. He stripped off his uniform in a record-setting pace. And, as he finished, Eddie saw Buck steadily approach, Bobby like a shadow behind him. Both wore similar expressions that warned Eddie of conversations he was not ready for. Because of that, Eddie did something he regret. A course of action so damning it spoke louder than any mangled defense he might put together.

           He hid.

           “Stupid… stupid…” Eddie whacked his phone across his temple, curled into a tight ball outside the building. He snuck through a door in the back, smart enough to not go far but knowing that it’s so rare anyone used this area. It was set aside for the firefighters who smoked, Chimney explained. Those were always a small contingent, never more than one or two per squad. As the years went by, numbers dwindled, and a smoking firefighter became an endangered species. Now, hardly anyone uses this tiny alley that separates the fire house from its adjoining building. Except for Eddie. “I can’t believe I could have such shitty luck…”

           He went to hit himself with his phone again, but a shrill ping cut into his spiraling. Eddie checked his messages – Can I call? It was Michael. He texted back a thumbs up he didn’t mean. Soon his phone shook in his hands.

           Eddie answered, “Hey…”

           “Hi Eddie,” Michael said, tone soft like Buck’s back at the scene. He hated it. Eddie hated how much he wilted because of it, how his nerves started inching away from the edge at the gentle, implied coaxing. “How are you feeling?”

           Eddie barked a short, nasty laugh, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead. “I feel like I’m about to burst into flames.”

           “If you do, at least you’re around people who’ll know what to do.”

           “What if I don’t want them to save me,” Eddie groused, “should I make a break for it before the first spark catches?”

           “Like they wouldn’t race after you…” Michael’s voice trailed, clearly tiptoeing around the words he chose next. “So,” he said, “you ran into Brendan again today?”

           Eddie snorted. “More like some kid ran into his car…” He growled, kneading at his eye with the heel of his hand. “I can’t believe what happened, and how I… how I froze like that. Seriously, what were the odds?”

           “Pretty fucking low,” Michael told him, “But that’s exactly what it was, shit luck. There’s nothing you could have done to not have what happened, happened.”

           “That’s not true,” he sighed, “I could have not gone on that date with him. Or, at least, not let him talk me into his bed.”

           “He’s a charmer.”

           “I had nothing better going on,” Eddie said. He played his words back in his head, silently cursing how brusque they sounded. Was he really the bad guy in this scenario? Brendan hadn’t seem interested in a relationship during their dinner, and Eddie thought his own feelings were on display, too. Buck always said his poker face had more cracks in it than a busted sidewalk. Maybe the note was unnecessary, he can concede. Eddie can’t rewrite history and destroy it, though. “Besides,” he continued, swatting those past regrets away like flies, “Brendan wasn’t all that charming when he outed me, on top of cursing me out in front of the 118.”

           “Man was in a car accident,” Michael reminded Eddie, “He probably had more to worry about than decorum.” Michael coughed across the line, clearing his throat. “That doesn’t excuse what he did.”

           “Yeah,” he said, “I thought it was, like, gay brotherhood that you’re not supposed to out another gay person… or whatever.”

           “I… don’t think he knew. That you weren’t out…” Michael hummed, the noise rattling inside Eddie’s chest. “You’re right, in a way. Any decent gay person wouldn’t out a person before they’re ready. I can’t remember if Derek mentioned your… situation, when setting up the date. I can text him but, Eddie –“ Michael’s sigh caused the line to crackle and break, Eddie shivering as it hit his ear “– Eddie, Brendan and what he might and might not have known isn’t important, isn’t why I called.” Eddie knew. Of course, he knew. “What are you planning on doing next?”

           “That depends,” Eddie mumbled. His free hand tugged on his laces, loosening them slowly. “Do you want to hear what I want to do, or what I’m going to do.”

           “What do you want to do?”

           “Fake mine and Chris’s deaths,” he told Michael, “Start over somewhere new. Maybe on the East Coast, in a small fishing village where I can be a lighthouse keeper and never have to see another person ever again. Just me and Chris and the sea, until Chris leaves or I grow old and die. Whichever happens first.”

           “That’s… dark.” Michael said, “And oddly specific.”

           Eddie shrugged, “I watched the Lighthouse last night. Robert Pattinson jerked it to some mermaid doodle in it. Like… I could do that. Survive off of doodles of hunky mermen, or sailors. Hunky mermen getting it on with sailors… God knows the real thing didn’t work out.”

           “You don’t mean that.”

           “Well, what else can I do?”

           “You can go inside and talk to your friends,” Michael reasoned, “Your team who cares about you, and are most definitely worried because of what happened and how it affected you. Your family, who is ready to accept you for who you are as they always will. But first, you need to trust them and let them in to see who that is.”

           When Michael explained it, the obvious choice also seemed to be the easiest. The tiny seed of doubt, however, planted once Eddie accepted his heart’s leanings and blossomed into a strange bushel of roses with thorny roots strangling his chest, would not let him be. It poisoned his rationality, shredding any confidence Eddie built. “I trust them with my life,” he wondered, speaking barely above a whisper, “why is it so hard to trust them with this? Is it just me?”

           “It’s not you, Eddie,” Michael said. His voice thundered with conviction, startling Eddie. “Believe me, you aren’t the first gay man to feel this way and, unfortunately, you won’t be the last.”

           He sniffed, a wet chuckle escaping past his lips in a raspy breath. “That sucks.”

           “It sure does,” Michael agreed.

           “Does it ever go away?” he asked, “Or… get easier?”

           “I… it’s not a cut-and-dry answer,” he told Eddie, “In some cases, yes. Others… no. It’s situational.” Eddie found this answer unsatisfying. He wasn’t the only one. “Listen,” Michael said, “this might seem scary now, but I, uh – remember that first night. That night you came to my place and confided in me. What did you say?”

           “That I was gay.”

           “Yes…” Michael sucked in a deep breath, hissing his next thought so pointedly it cut through those pesky roots. “Now, imagine you’re me, saying what you said to me, but instead of saying it to me you were saying it to my lovely ex-wife who, at the time, was still my wife, and all this after we’re both a few glasses of wine deep and the kids are asleep.”

           Michael’s past helped put Eddie’s own troubles in perspective. He mentioned as such to him.

           “I don’t want to come off like ‘I had worse’ blah blah,” Michael said, “My point is – you see how good the relationship between Athena and I is. She could have easily kicked me out and then never spoken to me again. But she didn’t. She had every reason to hate me, but she didn’t. Athena loved me when she thought I was straight and continued after learning I was gay. It’s a different sort of love now, and yes, it might have wavered at times, but she stuck by my side like I stuck to hers. Yes, I was scared to tell her, just like you were when you came and told me. Just like you are now. But because I pushed through my fear, I freed us both from being unhappy. Her and Bobby… me and Derek… neither would have happened if I decided to keep my feelings to myself.”

           “Yeah… your life did change…” Eddie rested his head against his knees, remnants of adrenaline from earlier fully fading leaving an exhaustion that set deep into his bones. “I guess that’s what I’m really afraid of. How… acknowledging who I really am, and owning it, how everything will change after.”

           “Eddie, will being gay affect your job?”

           “What?” Eddie yelped, head rising again, neck aching from the whiplash Michael’s unrelated question caused. “No –“

           “Will you being out really make you a completely different, unrecognizable person?”

           “Uh… I – I don’t… no?”

           “Then it sounds like nothing will actually change.” Michael’s tone relaxed and, finally, Eddie let himself do the same. The other man’s speech wrapped around him like a warm blanket. “You didn’t wake up one morning and decide to be gay. It’s something that’s always been a part of you. It’s been there during every call you went out on. You’ll still be Eddie… just a happier Eddie, because you’re allowing yourself to be happy and honest with who you are. That’s what’s important here. Coming out isn’t about other people, it’s about you. You, opening yourself to others to see this part of you, and letting them share in the joy of who you are. And the 118, your friends, will still love you because this… this gay Eddie you have in your mind, is just Eddie. That’s it.”

           Eddie didn’t cry. He wouldn’t be able to hide it, once he went back inside to confront his friends. If they asked, Eddie might mumble a few broken words about allergies then move on. Because he didn’t let his tears fall. “Thanks, Michael,” Eddie said, “I… I’m really grateful for you, being my friend. And that you didn’t turn me away like you should have done when I showed up at your apartment.”

           “I was less afraid of what you’d do,” Michael laughed, “and more afraid what you might do if I didn’t.”

           They ended the call soon enough, with Eddie exchanging a few final pleasantries while Michael’s goodbye was laced with encouragement.

           Eddie stood, riding the aches of pain that came from unfurling his back out of the tight coil he forced it into. He stretched his arms, pointed high towards the sky. Eddie leaned onto his toes, and even lifted his face to better feel the sun shining above.

           Much too warm for fall.

           Despite the heat and his fears, Eddie returned to the firehouse. He slowly crept inside, alert, gaze bouncing around for a sign of his friends. When he didn’t find them on the first floor, not hovering by the truck and newly returned ambulance or biding time in the gym, Eddie passed faceless co-workers on his way to the stairs. Each step Eddie took sounded like beats from a heavy drum, sounding a funeral march. Eddie kept up the tempo.

           As he climbed higher, his head peeked out and Eddie caught a glimpse of the second floor. Like always, his eyes were drawn immediately to Buck. He, along with Bobby, Hen, and Chim, were huddled around the kitchen island. Eddie watched them converse quietly, briefly, the discussion cutting off because Buck, the one currently speaking, turned and saw Eddie. Buck straightened, body taut and tense like Christopher got after Eddie caught him misbehaving. Eddie wasn’t foolish enough to think they were talking about anything other than him. Buck’s face flickers, flipping through emotions like pages in a book too fast so Eddie can’t read. It settled on a steely façade of determination, Buck readying to move. Before he can, Bobby stopped Buck with one hand on his shoulder. He understood.

           Let Eddie come to them.

           He did, slowly, at his own pace. Eddie settled between Hen and Chimney, both firefighters creating a space for him.

           There’s a beat of silence, the air above the kitchen island so weighty Eddie’s shoulders drooped. He fought against it, taking a deep breath. “Hey.”

           “Eddie,” Bobby spoke first, “how are you doing?”

           Michael advised honesty. That’s what Eddie gave. “I’m a little scared,” he admitted with a laugh, staring intently at a divot in the island’s counter, and how his finger repeatedly traced it. “Okay. A lot of scared.”

           “We’re here for you Eddie,” Bobby said, “Whatever it is.” On either side, his friends reached for him. Hen laid her hand over Eddie’s, crushing it in a loving grip, while Chimney soothingly rubbed his back. Eddie glanced at the men in front of him, Bobby looking encouraging at him while Buck…

           Eddie still can’t decipher what it is Buck tries to show.

           If he thought about it too long, he’d lose all the confidence he gathered to arrive at this point. Eddie swallowed past the lump in his throat, attempting to smile. “Thank you,” he said, “really.” Then, without fanfare, Eddie shrugged and told his friends, “I’m gay.”

           Like that, the next breath Eddie took felt lighter. It was unbelievable. No one said anything, but their love and acceptance were visible in other ways. Eddie was almost brought to tears because of them. He reigned his emotions in, maintaining control. If they stayed like this, however, he’s sure to break.

           Eddie cleared his throat, “That’s all. So if we could…”

           “Not so fast,” Chimney said, smirk tainting their tender moment. His hand slunk across Eddie’s back to his shoulder, clamping down and chaining Eddie there at his side. “There’s still the doctor of it all that’s been unaccounted for…”

           “Chim,” Bobby warned lightly, trying his best to play boss.

           Hen waved him off. “Eddie should have his chance to explain,” she argued, “tell us his side of the story. Lord knows Chim and I got an earful about what that man thought of you, Eddie. Filled the entire drive from the wreck to the hospital.”

           “He had a lot of opinions,” Chimney added.

           Eddie sighed. He expected they might have questions, especially about Brendan. He wasn’t unprepared for this. “I went on one date with the man,” he explained, “something Michael set up –“

           “Michael?” Bobby interrupted, tapping his chest, “My Michael?”

           “He’s not just your friend,” Eddie said, “He… he’s been helping me deal with… with all this. This… being gay, stuff.” He shifted, bending forward to press his chest on the counter. “It was Michael’s idea I go on a date with Brendan, sort of like practice. To get more comfortable being… out, in public, with another man. Personally, I didn’t think the date was that special. Brendan was… he had a lot of personality.”

           “Sure was flexing that… personality, despite all those injuries,” Hen agreed, “Kept going on about this – this note you wrote? What was that about?” Hen might have asked coyly, but it was obvious to Eddie she knew.

           He still answered her. “I was going for nice,” he muttered, “I didn’t want to up and abandon him after we… after he invited me over for the night, and we…” They were at work. Eddie couldn’t say more.

           Nothing else needed saying. Even Buck understood, if his rapidly flushing cheeks meant anything. “Oh,” he said, “so you and him… you two…” His pointer fingers on either hand were extended, slapping each other with wide sweeps.

           Hen choked on a snort, shoving Buck’s hands apart. “They weren’t sword-fighting, Buck.”

           “Yeah, I knew that…” Because of his bashful pout, followed by Buck tucking his head into his chest, Eddie didn’t buy his excuse.

           “Okay,” Bobby steered the conversation elsewhere, “besides us and… Michael… have you told anyone else?”

           Eddie shook his head. “Really?” Buck asked, “Not even Chris?”

           “Especially not Chris…” Some of that earlier fear returned, roosting in his chest like a bird returned north from winter. “I never… I don’t know how I would explain it to him or… how much I would have to explain? Like, if I was a single dad from the start, I’m sure it would be easier. But most of his memories are with me and his mom, and I – I haven’t figured out a way to tell him while also not invalidating mine and Shannon’s marriage, y’know?” Eddie agonized over that near constantly. He loved Shannon, truly, and wanted their marriage to work despite not being attracted to her in the way that mattered. Christopher needed her in his life. If that meant Eddie gave Shannon what she wanted, what Eddie pretended he wanted to, it would have been worth it.

           But, in the end, she still went ahead with the divorce. Shannon was more perceptive than he ever gave her credit for.

           “And then there’s the Ana of it all…” Eddie threw out, offhandedly.

           “Wait,” Buck said, “was that why you broke it off with her? When you told me…”

           Eddie’s breath hitched slightly, and he drummed his fingers against the counterspace. “No,” he said, “I… I didn’t have the realization then. I meant it, about us not clicking and… her being another try at giving Chris a mom. Although, being gay would definitely have played a factor in us not clicking.”

           “That’s for sure.”

           Another wave of silence washed over them, this the most awkward of them all. “If that’s it for questions…” Eddie extricated himself from the group, final shreds of adrenaline fading and leaving him exhausted. His mind already set a course for the bunks, planning a lengthy nap as a reward for his vulnerability.

           “Of course,” Bobby rounded the island, moving closer to Eddie. Buck was on his heels, but hung back on the fringes of the group, a few inches behind Hen and Chimney. “I want you to know how proud I am of you, though. I can’t imagine any of what you had to deal with was easy, and if you need anything from us – keeping this information to ourselves or whatever… let us know. We’ll follow your lead.” He then opened himself for a hug, giving Eddie the option to accept or refuse.

           Eddie sagged into Bobby’s embrace, grateful. “Thank you.” Hen and Chimney joined them, squeezing Eddie tighter and tighter. Only Buck kept his distance. Eddie opened his eyes and noticed the younger man watching them, a glint in his eye that struck Eddie’s nerve. Once the others released him, Eddie confronted Buck. “Hey, are you…”

           “Hmm?” Buck blinked, and what Eddie saw earlier disappeared. It vanished like it never existed. Maybe Eddie imagined it? Regardless, Buck smiled in his usual, too-large-for-his-face way and swept Eddie in a giant hug of his own. “I’m proud, too,” he whispered, “And what Bobby said goes double for me. Anything you need, ask… and I’ll be there.”

           Eddie caught himself before he spoke without thinking. Instead, he returned the hug. He rested his cheek against Buck’s shoulder, humming in acknowledgment of Buck’s promise.

           Buck would do anything for Eddie, as much as he would do anything for Christopher.

           Anything… except what Eddie truly desired from him.

           While baring his soul to the group about his sexuality was one matter, confessing to all his secrets was an entirely different sort he hadn’t felt ready for. He doubted he ever will be. Because if he told Buck the reason why he stopped running from the truth, why he couldn’t deny his feelings after being content in doing so for years, Eddie feared Buck would prove the sickening voices in his head right by leaving him.

           Really, Eddie thought, what else was there to do when you learn your best friend is in love with you?

           So he ignored how Buck’s touch skimmed his lower back, the gentle swaying dance they began by hugging longer than necessary, and, as they drew apart, the struck-match feeling of Buck’s lips brushing the outer edge of his ear.

           There was nothing to read into, he reminded himself. He and Buck were friends. Best friends. Best buddies. Buck had Taylor, and Eddie…

           Eddie had hope. Hope, emboldened by his bout of honesty, that there will come a day he found a man he truly loved to share his life with.

           Even if they weren’t Buck.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Gif credit @rainbow-motors

Dean Winchester x Reader 

Words: 1518

Summary: Alone on a hunt for the holidays, 19-year-old Dean calls up his childhood friend. 

Notes: I’ve been obsessed with Young Jensen content and I found this gif (Thanks to the creator!) and I really wanted to write something for a younger Dean. Call me lazy, but I didn’t want to include the hunt itself in this one. I thought writing the moments before and after would be cute, so enjoy! (Bit of a mess, but I hope you like it)

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

-

“Hey Sammy, it’s me,” Dean started the voicemail grimly. It was the third one he’d left for his younger brother, “I know you’re not happy with me and that’s why you won’t take my calls, but dammit man, I’ll be back as soon as I can. It’s just another hunt Sam. I’ll be back before you can say Hanukkah.” He thought for a moment before finishing. “Merry Christmas, Sammy.” 

He ended the message and tossed his phone on the motel bed with a huff. He knew Sam was pissed about him going on a hunt alone, especially over Christmas, but he didn’t think the silent treatment was going to last this long. Dad gave him an order and he wasn’t going to let him down. 

Dean sat down in front of a pile of books and sighed. He hated the research parts of hunts. He just wanted to kill the son-of-a-bitch. Unfortunately, he wasn’t totally sure what this particular son-of-a-bitch was. Over the course of seven years, 15 kids have gone missing right around Christmas time. No notes, no bodies, nothing. If his dad had any theories, he certainly hadn’t shared them. So research time it was. 

About three hours and two illegally obtained beers later, he had a couple of theories ready. It didn’t seem like a spirit or vampires, and without heartless bodies, it wasn’t a werewolf. Since the disappearances always happened around the holidays, he figured that the creature might have Pagan roots. Either that, or it could be a Grinch of a witch somewhere. Whatever it was, it was sure putting a dent in his holiday. 

Maybe that’s why he dialed the number. Sure, his dad told him he needed to do this on his own, but if it really was some Pagan entity, he wasn’t really sure he could take it on by himself- not that he would ever tell his father that. As far as his dad was concerned, Dean could handle anything that the dark world threw at him. But right now, looking at the Christmas lights through the frosty motel window, he wanted a friend. 

“Jack Frost, can’t say I was expecting a call from you.” Your amused voice made Dean smile. You had the phone wedged between your shoulder and your ear as you painted your toenails Christmas Tree green. Just because you were a badass hunter didn’t mean you couldn’t be festive. 

“Hey Y/N,” Dean chuckled, pushing away from the book covered table and cracking open another beer, “how’ve things been on your side of the Midwest?” 

“Oh, you know, vengeful spirit here, vampire there, nothing too exciting.” You twisted the top back on the polish and hopped off the bathroom counter, being careful when you walked so you didn’t get any polish on the carpet. “Mom’s been off with the twins, trying to give them a little bit of a normal Christmas up in Oregon.” 

“Why aren’t you with them?” Dean wondered. Your family wasn’t like his family. You and your mom somehow made it work. You weren’t usually separated, at least not for long. 

“I had a hunch that someone else was going to be needing me this year.” Dean let out a long, frustrated groan.

“Sam called you, didn’t he?” 

“Sammy boy was worried that you’d have a lonely Christmas so he asked me to hang around in case you needed some help.” You shrugged.

“Hang around? What do you mean hang around?” 

“Come to room 114 and find out Dean-o.” With a smirk, you hung up and waited at the foot of your bed, flipping through channels on the television. You settled on a channel that was playing The Year Without a Santa Claus. 

When you heard the knock on the door you walked on your heels to open it. Dean gave you an annoyed glare, but you could tell he was happy to see you. He barreled passed you, nearly knocking you off balance. 

“Watch the feet!” You whined, pointing at your newly painted toes. Dean rolled his eyes. 

“You painted your toenails?” He scoffed. “What are you? 13?” 

“Don’t be a Scrooge, they look nice.” You had long been able to handle Dean’s snarkiness. 

Your mother had run into John Winchester back in 1990 on a spirit case. Dean was 11, you were 10 and Sam and the twins were about 7. While your parents took down the ghost, you and Dean had to babysit. While he was obnoxious at first, the two of you got along pretty well. You bonded over being the oldest siblings, constantly having to look out for your kid brothers, worrying whether or not your parents would come home, remembering the parent that you’d lost, for Dean, it was his mother to a demon, for you it was your dad to a werewolf. 

After that, John and your mom would sometimes meet up if only to have you and Dean look after the younger kids. You even ended up going to the same high school for a while. Dean was probably the closest thing you had in your monster-hunting world to a best friend. And you, not that he would ever say it, were the closest thing he’d ever had to a crush. 

“I think I may have a lead on what we’re looking for here.” You informed, tossing him your journal. Astonished, Dean scanned the page. 

“How did you-”

“I’ve been researching gods in my free time.” 

“You are such a nerd.” Dean scoffed, taking a closer look at something you wrote. 

“Yeah well this nerd has saved your ass more than a fair share so shut it, Winchester.” You smirked, snatching back your journal. “Based on the case files of the missing kids, I have an idea of who we might be dealing with. Gryla is from Icelandic folklore and she, uh, eats naughty children.” 

“And here I complained about the coal.” Dean grimaced. 

“If we don’t figure out where she is, these kids become Christmas dinner.” While you dove into more research, Dean looked over your shoulder at the TV. 

“Are those puppets?” 

You scrambled to turn off the TV, but Dean stole the remote. 

“It’s a Christmas classic.” You reasoned, feeling yourself turn red. “I watched it with the twins all the time when we were kids.” 

“I think it’s adorable.” He leaned ever so closer to you without realizing it. Like a magnet pulling you together, you found yourself inching closer and closer until-

“Are we going to hunt this thing or not?” You suddenly exclaimed, backing away quickly. He was just kidding around. Dean was always pretty flirty. It was just part of your friendship. He didn’t feel that way about you- the way you felt about him. 

-

You burst through your motel room door, half carrying Dean in with you. In a panicked rush, you sat him down on the bed and scrambled to find your first aid kit. 

“At least we beat the damn thing, right?” Dean smirked before wincing at the pain. His wound wasn’t life threatening, but it sure hurt like a bitch. 

“This is going to hurt.” You warned, turning on the radio to drown out any pained sounds that Dean made. As you cleaned the wound, his eyes were locked on you. You tried not to notice. It was the pain that was making him look at you like that. You covered the wound with a bandage and put a fair distance between the two of you. You hoped he couldn’t see how much you were shaking. 

“Everything okay?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah, yeah everything’s fine, Dean.” You lied, laughing nervously. “I just got kinda freaked out when I saw her attack you.” 

“You sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”

“I thought you were going to die, Dean, I think that’s a sufficient reason to be a little jittery.” Dean got up from his place on the bed and walked towards you. 

“We’ve known each other for how long, Y/N? I can tell when you’re not telling me the whole story.” 

You ignored him, electing to listen to the Christmas music coming from the radio instead. It was one of your favorites. You mouthed the words to yourself. 

“Through the years, we all will be together. If the fates allow.” 

“Fate hasn’t exactly been our friend.” You scoffed. 

“Huh?”

“The song. It says ‘if the fates allow’. Fate doesn’t seem to like us this year.” 

“I don’t believe in all that.” Dean said, shaking his head. “And if I did, it looks like ‘fate’ has had it out for me for the past fifteen years.” 

“Fair enough.” You crossed your arms over your chest, watching snow start to fall outside the window. Neither of you said anything. You both just watched the white flecks tumble down to the earth. You turned around and found him standing right behind you. It didn’t startle you. It felt like he was meant to be close to you. You breathed in slowly before whispering. “Merry Christmas Dean.” 

“Merry Christmas.” 

You didn’t need any mistletoe for what came next. 

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Even The Grinch Needs A Sidekick

Summary- 4k Mike (Me from Playing It Cool) x You. You have been busy, and today is no different. A children's Christmas Party at the hospital where you work is taking up all your time. Mike calls in Scott for some culinary help so you can have a relaxing night. Mike also finds a new friend and brings him home. Fluff. I really don’t think there are any warnings, but if you all pick up on something, go ahead and let me know. The lovely divider made by @firefly-graphics​ Happy Holiday Everyone

A/N- This wasn’t what I had planned for this chapter. But you know what, sometimes the story just does what it wants, damned if the writer wants that. I do love it though. 

Previous Chapter- Tonight It’s Scrooge McDuck

You tugged on your scrubs, having pulled out your favorite pair with The Grinch dressed as Santa Claus, Max with his single antler and little Cindy Lou Who with her red Christmas bauble. You hummed while grabbing your bell earrings when Mike came into the bedroom, glancing at you all dressed up for the hospital. “What's the occasion?” He questioned while turning you around and looking you up and down. 

“A group of us are going down into the children's ward to hand out some presents. I know I'm not supposed to wear the decorated scrubs, but it's once a year. Tomorrow I will go back to those boring as fuck ones.” You leaned up to kiss him swiftly before stepping around him. “But I'm going to be late, and I have an order of cookies to pick up on my way to work.” 

Mike followed you out, unlike you, he wasn't in a rush anywhere. It was a few days before Christmas and just as he had promised, he was about halfway done with Brian's script. The detective drama story line spoke to him a bit more than the rom-com scripts he was stuck with last time, and was finding it a hell of a lot easier to spend his day thinking about. 

You were busy packing a bag with some stuff you had picked up for the kids, and Mike grabbed a bagel he wrapped earlier, toasted lightly with cream cheese as well as a to go mug of coffee, you were distracted and listing off your to-dos when he handed them to you. “Don't forget to eat, and I got dinner tonight.” 

“Oh thank you, I know i have been all over the place the past week.” You paused when you saw what he had and took them to set the mug beside your bag, and pack away the bagel while continuing to talk to him. “You know… tonight is Chopped, and I shouldn’t be late tonight.” You bit your lip in a grin and turned to face him. “We might be able to beat our record.” Hinting at a bedroom game you two played, just for the hell of it.

Mike's eyes crinkled in the corner knowing well what you were playing at, reaching out to grab the front of your shirt and ease you forward into his arms, a grin softening his features as he wiggled his brows. “Think we will beat our time tonight. It's been awhile since we’ve messed around.” His hands slid down to cup your ass cheeks through your scrubs, making you arch into him, and you chuckled while easing your arms around his neck and tilting your head to press your lips to his, teasing darts of the tongue dragging against his bottom lip before pulling away, not letting the kiss get to that deep needing way. That has caused you to be late before and you weren’t going to let yourself be late today.

“That will have to wait till tonight Mike.” You wink at him as he groans as if waiting was not in his plan. “See you later tonight, and smile Baby, no being a Grinch just before Christmas.” You shouldered your bag and backed to the door to stay out of his reach, and slipped out the door with a grin. Mike snapped the door open as you were heading down the stairs. 

“Love you to Y/N” He shouted, and you waved back at him before disappearing from sight. Mike closed the door behind him, and pulled out his phone to scroll through his contacts. Hitting Scott’s name, he pressed dial and waited through the rings before a groggy voice answered. 

“What Man, it's 7 am, what in the hell do you already want Mike?” Scott snapped out and Mike grinned hearing his best friend. 

“Good Morning to you to Scott, are you still up for helping me tonight?” Mike asked and Scott groaned out a yes before hanging up. Whistling Mike grabbed a piece of toast and went to his computer to get to work. A text came through a short time later, a grocery list for Mike to pick up. 

Mike was coming back from the store with the ingredients Scott sent him a list of when he heard something shuffling in an alleyway he was passing. His head tilted when he heard the whimper that shifted into a scared woof, and Mike turned partially into the dirty alleyway, a particularly smelly dumpster half blocked it from sight and the light bright street seemed to grow into a darker ominous presence the further he stepped in, listening intently for that noise again. “Hello?” He asked cautiously, and all that filled his mind was somebody stashed behind the disgusting dumpster, and then he would be pulled into questioning by the cops… 

I really gotta stop watching those dramas Y/N liked so much he thought to himself as he peered into the edge of the dumpster to see nothing then dirty black garbage bags that had been torn into. Nothing unusual. But under the dumpster came a whine, rather pathetic, and Mike looked down between his feet to see a black nose with streaked white fur peek out with a loud sniff against his shoe, and a tilt had it grabbing at his shoelaces that were half hanging loose. “Hey!” he exclaimed and backed up to see the nose disappear back under the dumpster.

 “Here boy… or girl, whatever you are.” Mike called while shifting to a kneel while setting his groceries aside and landing carefully on his palms to lean down and peek under the dumpster. At first there was nothing to see, but then a puppy was trying to wriggle its way out the other side, on its belly with its back legs stretched out behind him. 

Mike was quick to bolt around the dumpster to see the puppy almost out from underneath it. Covered in mud and who knows what else, his head much bigger than the rest of his body, Mike was able to nab the puppy on the nape of his neck and pick him up, which he hung there growling and barking, his hind end and tail curled up in the fetal position. “Okay little guy, just hold on. Promise not to bite me and I will quit holding you like this.” Mike folded his arm to cradle under the puppy’s backside, and let him lean against his chest. He weighed practically nothing, it seemed all his matted fur made him appear bigger then he actually was. Once he was supported, he quit squirming and studied the man. All while Mike studied him back, now unsure of what to do with him. 

Big brown eyes started to droop as a wet black nose bopped against Mikes, and that sealed the deal. Sure there apartment didn't allow dogs but Mike couldn't just leave him there. “Guess you're coming home with me. I already know Y/N will be thrilled.” He grabbed his bag of groceries and made his way back to the apartment, sure to rush up the three flights of stairs and try to shift puppy, and groceries into one arm to get his keys. The puppy ended up wriggling in his arm and he set him down between his shoes to dig out his keys from his pants pocket while the wide eyed mutt peeked around his leg and bounded down the hallway, yipping. “No! Boy get back here.” Mike shoved the door open, along with the groceries before he sprinted after the fleeing canine to get him back. Scooping him up, he rushed back towards his door when the neighbor poked her head out. “Mike, what are you doing?” 

“Uh nothing Mrs. Beatrix… Sorry to have bothered you.” He waved one handed over his shoulder while trying to contain the squirming pup in his arms. Once he dipped into the apartment, half tripping over the bag of groceries, Mike slammed the door shut and set the puppy down, who dropped nose to the floor and started weaving back and forth. 

“Listen man… if this is gonna work out, you have to help out.” Mike said, kicking off his tennis shoes and grabbing the bag to bring to the kitchen, right behind him was the pitter patter of nails on linoleum and while he was emptying the bag of stuff for Scott, a pair of paws pressed against the back of his calves. A loud whine issued, and looking over his shoulder, he chuckled. “Hungry, arnt ya kiddo? Okay, lets see if Y/N has any ham left over from the night before.” He turned and searched the fridge, the puppy right there with his head stuck in it as well. 

It was much later when Scott came over, Mike was working on his script as well as keeping an eye on the new house guest when his ears perked to Scott entering the apartment, his arms filled as well with a couple bags that he set down. 

“Uuuh, are you babysitting someone's dog?” Scott asked curiously while his shoes were getting inspected. And Mike snapped his laptop shut to look over the edge of his desk at them. 

“No, I found him wedged under a dumpster. I couldn’t leave him there.” Mike dropped his hand and gave a soft whistle, which the pup gave Scott one last sniff before barreling back to Mike which scooped him up into his lap, scratching behind his ears. 

“What do you think Y/N will say?” Scott dropped his bags onto the counter and started to unpack and add his ingredients with the stuff Mike had picked up earlier. 

“I think she will be secretly thrilled.” Mike ruffled the pups ears and then set him back down on the floor. He moved to a stand and crossed into the kitchen to scrub his hands clean. “She loves dogs and watch her insist we keep him.” 

“Even when your landlord doesn't allow dogs here?” Scott was asking with a slight laugh while peeling open all the spices, and Mike took his time making faces down at the pup while drying his hands. 

“Eh, hes hardly around and we will figure it out. Besides, I would like to get out of this building, nothing ever works. Last week the hot water was out for the hundredth time it seems. This block always loses power first and last to get it back. Time for an upgrade, Brian already has another script for me to work on after this one finishes. If I really work on it, I should be done right after Christmas.” 

Scott grimaced a bit, but kept himself turned away from Mike while listening to him. “You know… a break afterwards might not be a bad thing, You’ve been writing steadily since before October. I know you're on a streak, but you have to come up for air sometime.” 

Mike shrugged at Scott. “Hey, I gotta take the pieces where I can get them right? Money is good and getting my name known will help in the long run. It's nothing I can’t handle. I know I’ve been distant a bit with Y/N, why you are here today, teaching me how to roast a chicken.” 

“I don’t know how you convinced me to do this. What person doesn't know how to cook a meal for their partner? You two have been dating for two years and this is the first time?” He scolded Mike while grabbing vegetables to give a rinse in the sink. The pup had planted himself between the two men, his ears perked while swinging his head back and forth to listen. 

“Take out, out to dinner, breakfast? I don't know, it just hasn’t happened. But tonight my man, with your help, I’m changing that. Y/N has been working hard the last couple weeks, and I know this will make her feel special.” Mike rolled up his sleeves, preparing to help Scott with whatever he needed while winking at their guest. “And who better to help me then you? You and Neil took all those cooking classes together. So what is on the menu tonight?” Mike leaned in to look at a bag, which Scott shooed him out and reached in pulling out the last thing Mike expected, a whole chicken. 

“Roast chicken, garlic baby red potatoes, a nice side salad, and rolls. You really can't get easier than that, and it speaks sophisticated.” Scott informed him while placing the chicken in the sink. 

“Easy? Dude that's a whole damn bird.” Mike scoffed while coming around the counter. “What do you want me to do with it?” 

Scott was already going through the kitchen, grabbing cooking pans and aluminum foil. “Well you can start with unwrapping the chicken and giving it a rinse.” 

Mike gave the chicken a look and took a breath. “No big deal, right pupper?” Mike directed at the puppy, who yipped in excitement and tipped his head back to give a cheeky howl, making both the men laugh at his reaction. 

The crash course into cooking had Mike's head spinning. Scott had him chopping, dicing, sprinkling seasonings, tossing stuff together and when he finally got the pans into the oven, he took a deep breath. “Okay what's next?” Mike was now on his toes, ready for the next project but Scott was busy washing his hands. 

“Now you wait an hour, check it by popping one of the legs near the joint and seeing if the juices run clear. Also let it rest when you take it out for good, or else it will be dry as hell.” Scott informed while drying his hands. “Also you need to get cleaned up. And give the poor dog a bath.” Scott leaned down where the puppy scooted away from Mike and sniffed at his fingers, giving them a lick first and then a playful bite which Scott shook his finger loose from the tiny teeth. Mike watched a moment before checking his phone. 

“Y/N will be home soon, so I will get on that. I bet he's a pretty cute pup under all that dirt.” Mike leaned down to pick him up, and Scott straightened, grabbing his reusable grocery bags and tucked them under his arm. 

“Text me tomorrow to let me know how it came out and we on for Saturday at the bowling alley?” Scott approached the door and Mike followed, turning the pup around to wave his paw at Scott.

“Yes Uncle Scott.” Mike mimicked in a joking high pitched voice, leaving Scott rolling his eyes at his friend. 

“Bite him would ya? You still got those sharp baby teeth.” Scott let himself out and Mike twisted the puppy once more to face him. 

“What an ass huh?” Which rewarded him with a resounding woof in agreement and a nip at the end of his nose. “God damn it, you weren't supposed to listen to him.” Mike grumbled while retreating to the bathroom, knowing the timer would let him know when to check on the chicken. “Okay, what's safe to use on you?” he questioned while setting the pup down in the bathtub and pulled out his phone to google while starting to put warm water in the tub. 

You trudged up the apartment's stairs, a few gift bags hanging off your arm from some of the long time residents at the hospital. You were exhausted and really looking forward to opening up that bottle of wine you’ve been saving and crashing on the couch with Mike. 

Jingling keys from your coat pocket and letting yourself in, the first thing that you noticed was the smell of chicken and potatoes wafting in from the kitchen, making your stomach roll in hunger and your mouth water. Following your nose, you went to drop off your bags when you called out “Mike? Where you at?” You had expected him to be in front of his glowing computer screen, where he usually was when in the middle of writing a script, but not tonight. 

“Will you stop it? I'M IN HERE.” You heard him call from down the hallway, and after you toed off your shoes, you started down to hear something whining and splashing. 

“Mike… what's going on?” You question as you stop at the bathroom doorway to see something you never expected to see. Mike was kneeling next to the tub and hanging off the edge was soggy paws and a soapy puppy giving the most pitiful look up at him while wagging his tail, sending a trail of water and soap spreading all over the room. 

“I said cut that out!” Mike wailed while reaching to catch the tail and squeeze out the excess water from it before letting it go, which just started the sloppy wagging again and a howl now while Mike attempted to rinse him off. “Welcome home Baby.” 

You just melt at the scene, grabbing a towel off the counter and unfolding it while Mike moves to a stand, picking the soaked dripping pup with him and you go to wrap him up in the fluffy towel. “Mike, where did you find this sweet baby?” You croon as you go to gently rub him dry, cupping his face and smiling at him. 

“Well… Under a dumpster a few blocks away.” Mike let you take the pup in your arms as your gently swaying him back and forth, still crooning and nuzzling him while hes giving licks to the tip of your nose. “I couldn't leave him there.” 

“Absolutely not.” You turned to leave the bathroom, leaving Mike to drain and rinse the tub while you brought your new friend out to the living room. Having him still wrapped in a towel, you settled on the couch and started to unwrap him from the towel, seeing his little yawns as he curled up on your scrub clad thighs. “Who would just leave you out there all alone little baby?” 

Mike finished up, taking a quick peek at his chicken, which had turned a deep golden brown, and the scent of sage and butter wafted from the open oven. Pulling it out, he listened to you talking to the puppy while setting it on the counter to let it sit before cutting into it. 

“Wine?” He called out while pulling out your favorite glass, already knowing the answer when you resounded a yes from the other room. Pouring it, he went back in to sit down next to you, handing you the wine and tossing his arm over your shoulder to pull you in closer. Tucking in his side, you hummed softly while softly petting the snoring pup in your lap. 

“We should think about what we're going to do with him.” You sigh a bit, scritching behind his ear while he twisted in your lap and went belly up, your fingers tickling along the pink of his belly. 

Mike considered it, letting his own fingers trail along your shoulder. “Why not keep him? We only have a few months left of our lease. About time we move right? Maybe something bigger.” 

You had never heard Mike talk like this, like in the future setting. He had always been in the moment, by the seat of your pants kind of man, and you were always a bit nervous to even bring up the future with him. You cleared your throat a bit while looking up at him, straightening a bit, which jostled the puppy just a bit and woke him up with a whining yawn, stretching in your lap. “You really want that Mike?” You searched his face and he shrugged, a tinge of pink along the top of his cheeks. 

“Well I wouldn't mention it if I didn't Y/N.” He teased while reaching for the pup who started to wriggle around in your lap, and set him down on the floor before pushing himself to a stand. “Come, I actually made a real dinner and you still gotta tell me about work. Did that intern drive you crazy today?” He efficiently changed the subject, which you let him. Slipping into his hold, you went to help him in the kitchen. Leaning over the counter as he transferred the chicken, you inhaled deeply. 

“You made this Mike?” you asked incredulously with an arched brow, waiting for him to confess that it was an order in and he made it look homemade, but he smirked at you while starting to carve. 

“I will have you know I made this myself.” 

You gave him the look, the one that demanded the ultimate truth. 

“With Scotts help, okay. But I did the work.” Mike plucked a piece of chicken loose and held it to you, which you popped in your mouth, licking at your lip and grinning at how it tasted. Reaching for another piece and plucking a piece to give to the puppy waiting patiently at your foot. “Scott just instructed me on what to do.” 

“His classes are paying off. Maybe he can become our free instructor.” You joked while going around the counter to finish helping Mike get stuff ready and for the first time in a while you two sat at the table instead of crashing in front of the tv with junk food. Soon plates were pushed aside, full from the excellent food and tired after the long day, you went to take a quick shower while Mike cleaned up the kitchen. 

Coming back out dressed in sleep shorts and a tank, you found Mike laying on the couch with the puppy standing on his back legs, front paws on the couch trying to jump up. Mike scooped him up onto the couch with him, whispering to him. “Looks like your staying boy, what are we going to name you? Buster? You almost look like a Buster.” You approached the couch and Mike shifted enough so you could lay down along his side, half wedged on him and between the couch, laying your head on Mike's shoulder. 

“Hmmm, what about Scout?” You wiggle your nose at the puppy, who efficiently ignored both names, proceeding to chew on Mike's shirt, the Christmas lights on the tree being the only glow in the room. You smiled and whispered out. “Hey Max… look at me.” 

Which the brown and white puppy immediately perked up, and Mike shook his head. “Max? Why Max?” 

You grinned while watching Max perk up every time Mike said his name, your giggle muffled against his shirt. “We needed a Christmas dog name.” Then you hummed out Your A Mean One Mr.Grinch. “Max can be your sidekick now Mr.Grinch.” 

Mike gave a laugh, running his fingers along your hips, making you laugh out and trying to pull away. Max growled out, barreling against you and Mike to tug at Mikes hand, and you grasped the pup to set him aside gently so that you two rough housing didn’t end up getting him hurt. 

“Seems like he is more your sidekick Baby.” Mike smirked as he pulled you in closer to him, flushing kisses against your neck and rubbing up and down your back. You settled back in against his chest. “Ready for bed?” He asked, calculating how many hours were left so he could write a bit after you fell asleep. 

“Mmhh, it was such a nice evening, I hate to end it so soon.” You tilted your head up to press your lips to his and Mike pushed up to a sit. 

“We will pick it up tomorrow. Besides, I should probably take the rugrat out to potty, now that it’s dark out.” 

Your arms eased around his neck and you gave him a more passionate loving kiss in thank you, and eased up. “I will see you when you come back up Mike.” Max sat there watching the two of you and you ruffled Max’s ears, then headed to the bedroom. Mike watched you go down the hallway and then looked to see Max had ditched him to go check out the tree, sniffing excitedly when Mike's eyes sprang wide to see him pop a squat. 

“Max! No!” Mike yelled, springing up to catch the pup. 

[whump-town]

It’s A Wonderful Life

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. 

Warning: talking about child abuse 

Fluorescent white is harsh.

The ones in the police station when his mother tried to run away the first time had irritated his eyes. Laying on his back, head cushioned by a deputy’s winter jacket, he’d gotten the idea to save himself from this mess. He spent the night on that station floor, while his mother pleaded for something to be done, staring long and hard at the lights. Waiting until he couldn’t stand the pain from his eyes being open for so long before blinking. He’d hoped to blind himself, aimed for it in the hopes that he would earn a fraction of goodwill from his father.

He didn’t need to be told that he and his mother would be going back to that house tonight.

Three months later, his father put him in the hospital for the first time. Despite the pressure across his chest, the pain of each breathe, he’d shivered harshly. Those blinding lights and white walls sucking the warmth from the room-- but maybe it had nothing to do with the hospital and the realization, at eight, that his father would rather see him dead than deal with him.

But for two hours, Aaron remembered what it was like to have a father. More crisp than the pain stabbing through his body, the chest tube wedged into his thin chest was his father’s commanding figure. The way his mother had moved to place herself between them until she saw his true motive.

He remembers his father soothing his out-of-mind whimpers, brushing his bangs from his face with a gentle knuckle. Gently, a nurse moving wires and keeping them from being tangled, his father had cradled him to his chest. “Easy. You’re okay now, baby.” It had been so hard to breathe, despite the oxygen canal under his nose. But he’d fallen asleep there with his father’s large flannel pulled over him like a blanket.

At least that hospital stay earned him a month of reprieve-- he’d been on blood thinners, inhalers, and way too much medicine for a child. His father couldn’t beat him, though, because he might not have been any use to the man but a funeral is more expensive than just leaving him be.

In his ninth-grade year, his father hit him so hard that a blood vessel burst in his eye. The light had been red. The nurse who put three stitches into his chin whispered a soft chide at him for fighting boys at school but there was something about her that still makes him think she knew. She let him sleep for four hours, fed him as many sandwiches as he could stand, and sent him home with jello stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

There were fluorescent lights in the coroner’s office. The first time he’d ever seen a dead body-- his own father.

From there the lights lose meaning.

Getting mugged in college and cracking two ribs getting the shit kicked out of him when they realized he had no money. Breaking the metacarpals in his right hand punching somebody’s too drunk boyfriend-- he only remembers the blinding pain and a boy and Haley dragging him to the hospital a day later. Breaking more ribs in the academy falling off an obstacle, they called him brittle bones for the rest of training and they were right. Getting shot, too many times to count there. Being knocked unconscious, strangled, and beaten. Being blown up not once, not twice, but now three times. And… Foyet.

It seems as if he’ll never get a reprieve from their harsh downpour. Maybe he never will.

“I can’t let you all back there.” A doctor and a nurse meet them at the doors of the intensive care unit, the only thing separating them sitting numbly in the waiting room from Hotch. He’s already so close, they can feel it stirring something foreign in them. Maybe it’s the sort of raw thing that Hotch normally abates in them, soothes and calms long before they can truly feel it.

Dave leads them into the hospital.

Garcia clutches Morgan’s hand, following close on his heels, and trying to keep her eyes on the floor. Afraid that if she looks up she might start sobbing and she knows if she does start crying, she will not stop. Morgan lets her, he needs something else to focus on. Her cold hand squeezing his painfully tight works numbers.

JJ tries to speak with Reid and Emily but neither even attempts to try with a response.

“The best I can do is… five minutes, in pairs.”

Emily looks up from the floor, showing her own first signs of life. “I’ll go.” She goes alone.

JJ with go with Reid. Morgan with Garcia. Privileged with power of attorney, Rossi will get to stay. She tries not to think too hard about how that was once her. Before she ruined everything with Doyle, she was his power of attorney. Now Dave has to decide if he’s got enough fight left in him to keep going.

There’s blood all over his face. It’s caked under his nose and left to coagulate along his hairline. There’s so much it makes her stomach twist and she feels tears slip down her face despite the control she wishes to exude.

Emily sniffles, wiping the back of her hand under her nose hard. Unable to forgive herself for this blatant demonstration of emotion and unwilling to stop for just a moment and really think about what is happening. About the things that have happened today while she was fucking off at her desk. “Can we--” she clears her throat harshly. Forcing her shoulder’s back and stealing her voice she tries again. “Do you have a rag? I’d like to get the blood off his face.”

A nurse, standing right at the door in case Emily does get overwhelmed, nods. She’d expected to have to hold the women or offer some sort of false promise in a hopeful prognosis but the brunette agent just turns her back and regards her friend a little closer.

She’d seen him after Foyet. Seen him. Drugged out of his mind and numbly, nearly dissociated, from the nurses changing his bandages. It had hurt to see him so… he couldn’t even be there, mentally, to stand it.

“Here you go,” the nurse comes back. “Don’t touch the stitches and be careful--”

“I know.” She does, really, know what the nurse is going to say. She’s cleaned her own wounds and some of the others. She knows what to do. The important thing, right now, is cleaning him up so that the others don’t see it. The blood up and down him, he’s covered in it. It’s safer, better if they see him like he’s Hotch.

She’s hesitant to actually touch him but her time is dwindling down. Wiping at his eyebrow, she tries to think of something to say. Mindless. “Reid swears that there is some proven bullshit study--” the washcloth trembles in her hand. “I don’t know, I--I didn’t listen to him, to be honest.” An admission that would earn her a stern frown if… if he were here. But he’s not. “I think he’s just bluffing,” she admits. “I also don’t think if you had a choice, you’d want to listen to any of the sappy crap any of those nuts have to say.”

She didn’t want to, she didn’t even want to see him, but no one was moving and no one was speaking. So, she’d taken the doctor’s bait and agreed to go back first. Someone has to, it’s not a big deal. They look after one another-- she and Hotch hate each other’s guts most of the time but she always has his back. She always looks after him. Now is no exception.

The blood comes off and her time runs out.

“W--Wait!” She forces herself to take his hand, cold and rough, in her own. “Aaron,” his name feels wrong in her mouth but she’d been Emily for ages and it’s desperate but she’s terrified she’ll never have another chance. “Don’t you die, you son of a bitch. Please don’t die.”

Her legs carry her out of the building, only half-aware of the words Dave is communicating. They can come back in the morning (but she remembers what the doctor said about him surviving the night) and that Jack is staying overnight just to be sure.

Right. “Okay.” She’ll be back in the morning.

On a night not quite unlike this one, JJ had taken Emily home. To the home that she and Will were still renovating and whose walls were never truly silenced no matter the hours-- night or day. It had been exactly what Emily needed to get the hell away from all that overwhelming silence.

Will made them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and tipsy from her wine Emily commended his skill. Obviously, JJ was doing something here, picking him, and Henry really lucked out. That was the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich she’s ever had (he sent her home the next morning with three more and even refrigerated they were amazing).

That night, JJ took Emily back to her closet and showed her the secret wardrobe-- full of clothes she’s stealthily stolen from their friends over the years. A soft green sweater that still smelled like Gideon, JJ informs her he pulled it over her head one chilly morning when they were in DC. They laughed sadly together, remembering Gideon’s very unique approach to affection. He never really hit his mark, did he? He was an odd one alright.

The real stash is in the back. Not the outrageous amounts of sweaters Garcia sends her home with-- always an excuse to go get new ones. It’s for the Morgan and Hotch memorabilia. It’s no secret the two of them will fork over anything you ask for-- fries, a pickle, an extra shirt, mittens, their coats. No, the hard part is giving those material items back.

“Jesus,” Emily hisses, looking at her friend with wide eyes. “And those are all from Hotch?” JJ had opened a shoebox full of gloves ranging in color and thickness.

JJ looks nearly ashamed as she nods. “He’s always leaving them everywhere!” she defends. Most do come from her finding them in random places he’s set them down and just walked away. One pair did come directly from his jacket pockets. He’d draped his peacoat over her like a blanket and she’d dug around for a piece of the hard candy he always keeps on his person and found them.

He used to lose so many pairs JJ used to wonder if Haley even bothered to get angry with him. She was frustrated and she didn’t have to go buy his big dumb butt a new pair.

“What’s your excuse for the shirts?”

The rule of shirts is you ask Morgan. Reid is a size small in t-shirts and when they already steal Hotch’s candy, scarves, and gloves they leave him his shirts… unless he offers first. Morgan always has one large, at least, in his bag. He is a medium but sometimes he just has to style a slightly larger shirt.

And JJ has an impressive amount of men’s mediums shirts-- the black, blues and one green shirt are all Morgan. The white ones are Hotch.

Emily had borrowed one of JJ’s Morgan shirts and slept on the couch. She’d laid awake just a little after they’d all gone their separate ways thinking about the impossibility that she’ll ever have JJ’s problem. They just don’t like her like that.

Tonight, Emily is dipping into her own reserve.

When she was ready to go into Witsec, Hotch gave her his button-down. Her own wouldn’t fit because of all the layers of gauze. She’d been the point of tears with aggravation over this and startled when he gently closed his hands over her own. She can loosely remember crying into his shoulder, shaking with fear. She was afraid, not mad at her stupid t-shirt.

She was terrified she’d never seen any of them again and he’d felt the same.

“Haley hand-made Jack this bear out of some of my old shirts,” he tells her. It feels like he’s taken a hot serrated blade and drug it from hip-to-hip, barring himself for her to see. “He sleeps with it every night.” He leaves out the obvious-- that she’d been afraid he’d die and Jack would forget him and that he now he wishes he’d done the same with her old shirts.

Emily startles when he moves to undo the buttons on her shirt but she lets him. Watching as he tugs his own off his shoulders. The two making eye-contact as he hesitantly guides her arms into his larger shirt. It’s stupidly large but doesn’t hurt to sit across her stomach.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

He shakes his head, lowers his gaze, and moves back.

For the months she was away, she could understand why Jack would cling to that bear. When that old shirt stopped smelling like him she locked herself in the tiny bathroom of her apartment, sat in her bathtub with her knees drawn to her chest. Was that her last tie to them? They’re slipping out of her grip, gone. Is that what she felt like to them too? A ghost.

That old shirt made it through a lot and two weeks after she came home she brought it back to him. The worn fabric clutched in both her hands.

“I can give you another if you’d like.”

He gave her three more and, as it turns out, he has so many. It’s a problem. After so many washes the fabric is too thin or Jack stained it with some food or dirt or any number of things.

Now she has an obscene amount and, if she leaves them long enough, they make the back of her closet smell like Hotch. So, despite how ridiculous it must make her, she sits in the back of her closet and buries her face in one of those old shirts.

Why can’t just one year go by with no life-or-death experiences?

“-- I heard David Bowe,” Garcia says to seemingly no one but he knows she’s speaking to him. Of course, she’d hold on when everyone else knows it’s time to give up. “Heroes,” she sighs, shaking her head. “I hope you can hear us, Hotch. Please come home.” Her thumb worries with the back of his hand, rubbing his knuckles. “I really miss you and--” her voice cracks.

That’s a stupid thing to say, she realizes. She saw him yesterday! They talked about the cafeteria running out of blueberry muffins and she’d apologized because she hadn’t thought to grab him one. But today she brought him one to the office. Thought it would make his Wednesday even better.

Guess not.

“It’s okay.” Morgan pulls her to his side, rubbing her back. He just looks at Hotch. Bruised up and down, exposed to them from the waist up. Morgan could fill in what he assumed Hotch’s scars looked like but now he knows. He doesn’t even know what to say.

Garcia presses a kiss to his forehead, a hot tear sliding down her face as she regards him for one more moment. A bitter smile twisted onto his lips as she spots his elusive white eyelash. Emily hates that thing. “I love you, Hotch.”

Morgan… takes his hand. Rubbing his thumb up Hotch’s knuckles. “Don’t leave,” he whispers, glancing at Garcia. Glad that she at least pretends not to hear. “I don’t want your job, Aaron. I don’t want to learn it. I don’t want the fucking paperwork or the--” his cracks and he pulls in a shuddering breath. Laughing at the tears that sting his eyes. “I won’t do it, do you hear me? So… come back, okay? Get better because you have to.”

There aren’t any other options.

Despite the childhood he endured, Aaron has only ever met one caseworker. He did go to college with a few who would eventually get there but, for the most part, he stayed the hell away from everyone in the psych department. The very last thing he needed was getting near those trigger-happy morons less he walks away slapped with a new label. And with them, it’s impossible to tell what that might be.

He does know one thing-- if profilers ride the line then caseworkers are like g-strings right up the asscrack. No offense, both annoy him. He works with profilers, they’re the worst. Most days he wavers into hating those bastards. Caseworkers… another example of people whose entire job it is to get into people’s lives and see the dirty stuff.

His entire life, all he’s learned to do is hide the dirty stuff.

It’s hard to be exposed.

So, maybe he should have befriended a caseworker or two. All that dirt, all that shit piles up until it’s hard to tell any of it apart. He can’t tell if he’s even real anymore-- sometimes he spends so much time trying to be normal that he can’t remember how to be Aaron. Old favorites feel like nothing. Books with words that once held him together at the broken, singed pieces of himself now are numb. Meaningless.

Just like him.

Leaving behind him, in his nothingness. Covered in scars and ugly.

Ruined.

“Agent Hotchner! I need you to calm down.”

Those fucking lights. He hates fluorescent lightbulbs.

“We have a machine breathing for you,” the doctor explains calmly. He flashes a penlight in both of his patient’s eyes. “Your lungs are healing. We’re going to put you back under, okay? Your team, Agent Rossi, is right outside. Your son Jack is safe. Get some rest Agent Hotchner, you’ve got a hard night ahead of you.”

Fuck. He’d just wanted them to turn the lights off. His vision hazes over and he fights once more against the obstruction in his throat before the world sinks into the inky black once again.

[nightshifters]

JENSEN POSTED FOR THE 4X01 ANNIVERSARY???????????????? 

EXT. A COUNTRY ROAD – DAY

Through hazy heat, DEAN walks down an empty road and approaches an abandoned gas station. He pounds on the door.

DEAN (hoarse) Hello?

INT. GAS STATION – DAY

DEAN rolls up his outer shirt over his right hand, breaks the glass on the door. Inside, he grabs a water bottle from a fridge and gulps at it, gasping. He finds a newspaper and sees the date, which reads:

Thursday, September 18th

DEAN September.

INT – GAS STATION BATHROOM - DAY

DEAN washes his face in a dingy sink, then looks up and stares at his reflection. He wears a tight black t-shirt. Frowning, he stands, pulls the shirt up to expose his chest.

FLASHBACK DEAN's chest is ripped apart by the Hellhounds (3.16)

PRESENT DEAN stares at his unblemished, unscarred chest in the dingy gas station mirror. He turns his left shoulder to the mirror and pulls up the sleeve to reveal a large, raw HANDPRINT BRAND.

INT – GAS STATION MART – DAY

DEAN pulls snacks and energy bars from the shelves, along with several bottles of water, and stashes them in a plastic bag. Stopping in front of a magazine stand, he grins slowly. On the stand is an Adult Magazine - “Busty Asian Beauties”. He picks it up, smirks, flips through it, and stuffs it in the bag too.

He goes to the counter, sets down the bag, and hits a single button on the register, snapping his fingers in satisfaction when it pops open. As he's looting the cash, the TV to his left flicks on, showing only static. He shuts it off; only to have a radio to his right turn on to white noise. Not wasting a moment, he goes to another shelf and grabs a carton of salt, opens it, and begins to pour it along the windowsill.

A high-pitched single tone begins, and DEAN clutches his left ear in pain as he continues to pour salt with his right hand. As it continues, he drops the salt and crouches to the floor, groaning in agony. The window above his head shatters as the sound continues, and he drops to the floor. He leaps to his feet to try to escape, and more glass on the ceiling and walls shatters. He looks around cautiously.

EXT. PHONE BOOTH – DAY

DEAN dials a number, and hears only an alert tone.

RECORDED VOICE We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected.

DEAN hangs up the pay phone and inserts another coin, dials another number. It rings once, then is picked up.

BOBBY (V.O.) Yeah?

DEAN Bobby?

BOBBY (V.O.) Yeah?

DEAN It's me.

BOBBY (V.O.) Who's “me”?

DEAN Dean.

A dial tone sounds. DEAN hangs up the receiver and dials again.

BOBBY (V.O.) Who is this?

DEAN Bobby, listen to me.

BOBBY (V.O.) This ain't funny. Call again, I'll kill ya.

The dial tone again. DEAN hangs up the phone, turns. He sees an old, beat-up white car parked outside. His eyes light up; he hotwires the car and pulls away from the gas station.

INT. BOBBY'S HOUSE – DAY

To a pounding on the door, BOBBY'S hand appears to open it. On the doorstep is DEAN, looking winded and apprehensive. He smiles cautiously. BOBBY looks at him suspiciously.

DEAN Surprise.

BOBBY I, I don't...

DEAN Yeah, me neither. (He enters.) But here I am.

Behind his back, BOBBY takes a silver knife. As DEAN approaches, BOBBY lunges forward and slashes at him. DEAN grabs his arm and twists it around; BOBBY breaks the grip and backhands him in the face.

DEAN Bobby! It's me!

BOBBY My ass!

DEAN (shoves a chair between himself and BOBBY, holds his hands out) Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed, and... you're about the closest thing I have to a father. Bobby. It's me.

BOBBY lowers the knife, steps forward slowly. He places a hand gently on DEAN'S shoulder. Suddenly he slashes again, but DEAN quickly subdues and disarms him.

DEAN I am not a shapeshifter!

BOBBY Then you're a Revenant!

DEAN shoves BOBBY away, having taken the KNIFE. He holds it out in front of him.

DEAN Alright. If I was either, could I do this – with a silver knife?

DEAN rolls up his left sleeve, and, grimacing, slices his arm above the elbow with the knife. A line of blood appears.

BOBBY (starting to believe it) Dean?

DEAN That's what I've been trying to tell you.

BOBBY breaks, grabbing DEAN in for a tight hug. DEAN returns the hug with enthusiasm, relief on his face. They pull apart.

BOBBY It's... It's good to see you, boy.

DEAN Yeah, you too.

BOBBY But... how did you bust out?

DEAN I don't know. I just, uh, I just woke up in a pine box...

Suddenly, BOBBY splashes water in DEAN'S face. DEAN pauses, spits.

DEAN I'm not a demon either, you know.

BOBBY Sorry. Can't be too careful.

They go further into the house, DEAN wiping his face with a towel.

BOBBY But... that don't make a lick of sense.

DEAN Yeah. Yeah, you're preachin' to the choir.

BOBBY Dean. Your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop. And you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit -

DEAN I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject.

BOBBY What do you remember?

DEAN Not much. I remember I was a Hellhound's chew toy, and then... lights out. Then I come to six feet under, that was it. (BOBBY sits.) Sam's number's not working. He's, uh... he's not...

BOBBY Oh, he's alive. As far as I know.

DEAN Good.... Wait, what do you mean, as far as you know?

BOBBY I haven't talked to him for months.

DEAN You're kidding, you just let him go off by himself?

BOBBY He was dead set on it.

DEAN Bobby, you should've been looking after him.

BOBBY I tried. These last months haven't been exactly easy, you know. For him or me. We had to bury you.

DEAN Why did you bury me, anyway?

BOBBY I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. But... Sam wouldn't have it.

DEAN Well, I'm glad he won that one.

BOBBY He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow. That's about all he said.

DEAN (suspicious) What do you mean?

BOBBY He was quiet. Real quiet. And then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found.

DEAN Oh, damnit, Sammy.

BOBBY What?

DEAN Oh, he got me home okay. But whatever he did, it is bad mojo.

BOBBY What makes you so sure?

DEAN You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this... this force, this presence, I don't know, but it, it blew past me at a fill-up joint. And then this. (He strips his jacket, pulls up his sleeve to reveal the brand.)

BOBBY (standing) What in the hell?

DEAN It was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out.

BOBBY But why?

DEAN To hold up their end of the bargain.

BOBBY You think Sam made a deal.

DEAN It's what I would have done.

INT BOBBY'S HOUSE – DAY

DEAN (into the phone) Yeah, hi, I have a cell phone account with you guys, and uh, I lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me. (beat) Yeah. Name's Wedge Antilles. (beat) Social is 2-4-7-4. (beat) Thank you.

DEAN hangs up the phone and crosses to a laptop on the table.

BOBBY How'd you know he'd use that name?

DEAN You kiddin' me? What don't I know about that kid?

The laptop is open to a web browser; DEAN types in the address for ARC MOBILE.

DEAN (picking up one of the many empty liquor bottles scattered around) Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What, are your parents out of town or something?

BOBBY Like I said. Last few months ain't been all that easy.

DEAN (holds his gaze for a moment) Right.

The laptop beeps; the display shows a city map with a blue arrow pointing to a star. The locator reads:

Phone Location: 263 Adams Road Pontiac, Illinois.

DEAN Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois.

BOBBY Right near where you were planted.

DEAN Right where I popped up. Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?

EXT. ASTORIA MOTEL – NIGHT

DEAN and BOBBY walk down a dingy hallway and knock on a door with the number 207 inside a red heart. The door is opened by a HOT YOUNG WOMAN with dark hair, wearing only a tank top and underwear. She looks at them expectantly.

HOT YOUNG WOMAN So where is it?

DEAN (looks at BOBBY, confused) Where's what?

HOT YOUNG WOMAN The pizza... that takes two guys to deliver?

DEAN I think we got the wrong room.

SAM steps into the light. He is grim and focused, and wears a grey t-shirt and jeans.

SAM Hey, is...

SAM stops dead when he sees DEAN. He swallows, shocked, his eyes flicking between DEAN and BOBBY.

DEAN (quietly, with much feeling) Heya, Sammy.

SAM is silent. DEAN steps into the room, ignoring the H.Y.W., who steps aside to let him in. As DEAN gets close, SAM pulls a knife and lunges at DEAN. H.Y.W. screams; DEAN blocks SAM'S attack and BOBBY pulls SAM off, gripping him around the shoulders. SAM struggles.

SAM (shouting) Who are you?!

DEAN Like you didn't do this?!

SAM Do what?!

BOBBY It's him. It's him. I've been through this already, it's really him.

SAM (stares at DEAN as the struggle slowly goes out of his body) What...

DEAN (advancing cautiously, staring at SAM) I know. I look fantastic, huh?

BOBBY lets go of SAM, who looks on the verge of tears as he steps forward and pulls DEAN into a desperate hug. They embrace for several seconds, heavy with emotion, as BOBBY looks on with tears in his eyes. SAM pushes DEAN back to arm's length. H.Y.W. is looking on, looking confused.

HOT YOUNG WOMAN So are you two like... together?

SAM (like he's just remembered that she's there) What? No. No. He's my brother.

HOT YOUNG WOMAN Uh... got it. I... I guess. Look, I should probably go.

SAM Yeah. Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Sorry.

EXT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

SAM, now wearing a white button-down, opens the door to let the H.Y.W., now dressed in an adorable blue plaid shirt, out.

HOT YOUNG WOMAN So, call me.

SAM Yeah. Yeah, sure thing, Kathy.

HOT YOUNG WOMAN:(disappointed) Kristy.

SAM Right.

She leaves, and SAM shuts the door.

INT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

SAM comes back into the room and sits down. DEAN is standing above him, arms crossed. He and BOBBY are both looking at SAM suspiciously.

DEAN So tell me, what'd it cost?

SAM (smiling) The girl? I don't pay, Dean.

DEAN That's not funny, Sam. To bring me back. What'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?

SAM You think I made a deal?

BOBBY That's exactly what we think.

SAM Well, I didn't.

DEAN (intensely) Don't lie to me.

SAM I'm not lying.

DEAN (advancing) So what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy? I didn't want to be saved like this.

SAM (standing, angrily) Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, all right?

DEAN (grabs SAM by the front of his shirt) There's no other way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth!

SAM (breaking DEAN'S grip) I tried everything. That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry.

DEAN (relenting) It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologize, I believe you.

BOBBY Don't get me wrong, I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question.

DEAN If he didn't pull me out, then what did?

END ACT ONE

ACT TWO

INT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

DEAN and BOBBY are seated the couch. SAM enters and passes out bottles of beer, then sits across from DEAN.

DEAN So what were you doing around here if you weren't digging me out of my grave?

SAM Well, once I figured out I couldn't save you, I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback.

BOBBY (accusing) All by yourself. Who do you think you are, your old man?

DEAN sees something, frowns, and crosses towards it.

SAM Uh, yeah, I'm sorry, Bobby. I should have called. I was pretty messed up.

DEAN picks up what he'd seen a pink flowered bra. He holds it up.

DEAN Oh yeah. I really feel your pain.

SAM Anyways, uh, I was checking these demons out of Tennessee, and out of nowhere they took a hard left, booked up here.

DEAN When?

SAM Yesterday morning.

DEAN When I busted out.

BOBBY You think these demons are here 'cause of you?

SAM But why?

DEAN Well, I don't know – some badass demon drags me out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow.

BOBBY How you feelin', anyway?

DEAN I'm a little hungry.

BOBBY No, I mean, do you feel like yourself? Anything strange, or different?

DEAN Or demonic? Bobby, how many times do I have to prove I'm me?

BOBBY Yeah. Well, listen. No demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. They've gotta have something nasty planned.

DEAN Well, I feel fine.

SAM Okay, look, we don't know what they're planning. We got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help.

BOBBY I know a psychic. A few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking.

DEAN Hell yeah, it's worth a shot.

BOBBY I'll be right back

BOBBY exits.

DEAN stands as if to leave.

SAM Hey, wait. (stands) You probably want this back.

SAM reaches into his collar and pulls out a cord. It is DEAN'S AMULET. He places it in DEAN'S hand. DEAN looks at it, touched.

DEAN Thanks.

SAM Yeah, don't mention it. (DEAN puts the AMULET on) Hey Dean, what was it like?

DEAN What, Hell? I don't know, I, I must have blacked it out. I don't remember a damn thing.

SAM (nodding) Well, thank God for that.

DEAN Yeah.

INT. MOTEL BATHROOM – NIGHT

DEAN flicks on the light and stares at himself in the mirror. He runs a hand over his chin and leans forward on the sink.

FLASHBACK Closeup of DEAN'S bloody, terrified face, with screams and eerie sounds.

PRESENT DEAN pulls back from the mirror, blinking in confusion.

EXT. MOTEL PARKING LOT – NIGHT

BOBBY leads the boys down a set of steps.

BOBBY She's about four hours down the Interstate. Try to keep up.

BOBBY gets in his car.

SAM I assume you'll want to drive.

SAM pulls the keys out of his right pocket and tosses them at DEAN, who catches them easily.

DEAN (chuckling) Oh, I almost forgot! (he approaches the IMPALA and runs a hand along it lovingly.) Hey, sweetheart, did you miss me?

DEAN gets in the driver's side, settles in. He sees an iPod plugged into the stereo, pauses, and gives it a dirty look. SAM gets into the passenger's seat, smiling. DEAN glares at him.

DEAN What the hell is that?

SAM That's an iPod jack.

DEAN You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up.

SAM Dean, I thought it was my car.

DEAN sneers, sighs, and turns the key in the ignition. "Vision" by Jason Manns begins to play. DEAN rolls his eyes and glares at SAM again, looking pained.

DEAN Really?

SAM shrugs innocently. DEAN rips the iPod out of the jack and tosses it in the back seat.

EXT. TWO-LANE BLACKTOP – NIGHT

DEAN and SAM are back in their familiar places, having a heart-to-heart in the IMPALA on a dark road.

DEAN There's still one thing that's bothering me.

SAM Yeah?

DEAN Yeah, the night that I bit it. Or... got bit. (he chuckles at his own wit) How'd you make it out? I thought Lilith was going to kill you.

SAM Well, she tried. She couldn't.

DEAN What do you mean, she couldn't?

SAM She fired this, like, burning light at me, and... didn't leave a scratch. Like I was immune or something.

DEAN Immune?

SAM Yeah. I don't know who was more surprised, her or me. She left pretty fast after that.

DEAN Huh. What about Ruby, where is she?

SAM Dead. For now.

DEAN (bites his lip, like he's not sure he wants to ask) So you've been using your, uh, freaky ESP stuff?

SAM No.

DEAN You sure about that? Well, I mean, now that you've got... immunity, whatever the hell that is... just wondering what other kind of weirdo crap you've got going on.

SAM Nothing, Dean. Look, you didn't want me to go down that road, so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish.

DEAN Yeah, well, let's keep it that way.

SAM broods.

EXT. PAMELA'S HOUSE – DAY

They knocks on the door, and PAMELA opens it. She is in her thirties, strong and beautiful with a ready smile.

PAMELA Bobby!

She grabs him into a hug, lifting him briefly off the ground. SAM and DEAN share a look.

BOBBY You're a sight for sore eyes.

PAMELA steps back and looks SAM and DEAN up and down appraisingly.

PAMELA So, these the boys?

BOBBY Sam, Dean. This is Pamela Barnes, best damn psychic in the state.

DEAN (flirting, of course) Hey.

SAM (a little awkwardly) Hi.

PAMELA Mmm-mmm-mmm. Dean Winchester. Out of the fire and back in the frying pan, huh? Makes you a rare individual.

DEAN If you say so.

PAMELA Come on in.

INT. PAMELA'S HOUSE – DAY

PAMELA ushers them in, first BOBBY, then DEAN, then SAM, and shuts the door behind them.

BOBBY So, you hear anything?

PAMELA Well, I Ouija'd my way through a dozen spirits. No one seems to know who broke your boy out, or why.

BOBBY So what's next?

PAMELA A séance, I think. See if we can see who did the deed.

BOBBY You're not gonna... summon the damn thing here.

PAMELA No. I just want to get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal.

DEAN I'm game.

INT. SEANCE ROOM – DAY

PAMELA spreads a black tablecloth covered in symbols over a small table. SAM and DEAN look at it warily; DEAN cocks his head as PAMELA squats in front of a cabinet, revealing a scrawled tattoo across her lower back that reads:

Jesse Forever

DEAN Who's Jesse?

PAMELA (laughs) Well, it wasn't forever.

DEAN His loss.

PAMELA stands with several pillar candles in her hands, stops in front of DEAN with a smirk.

PAMELA Might be your gain.

As she passes by, DEAN turns to SAM and lowers his voice.

DEAN Dude, I am so in.

SAM Yeah, she's gonna eat you alive.

DEAN Hey, I just got out of jail. Bring it.

PAMELA (passing by again, to SAM with a wink) You're invited too, grumpy.

DEAN You are NOT invited.

LATER PAMELA, BOBBY, SAM, and DEAN are seated around the small table, which now has six lighted candles in the center.

PAMELA Right. Take each other's hands. (they do) And I need to touch something our mystery monster touched.

PAMELA slides her hand along DEAN'S inner thigh. He jumps.

DEAN Whoa. Well, he didn't touch me there.

PAMELA My mistake.

DEAN looks around, nervous, then takes off his outer shirt, pulls up his left t-shirt sleeve to reveal the BRAND. SAM stares at it, shocked, looks at BOBBY. PAMELA lays her hand on the BRAND.

PAMELA Okay. (All four close their eyes as PAMELA begins to chant) I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. (a television flicks on to static; she continues) I invoke, conjure, and command... Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy.

DEAN Castiel?

PAMELA Its name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back. (white noise and static continues, and the table begins to shake) I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face.

BOBBY (as the white noise and rattling become more violent) Maybe we should stop.

PAMELA I almost got it. I command you, show me your face! Show me your face now!

Suddenly the candles flare up several feet in the air and PAMELA begins to scream. Her eyes fly open and are filled with a white-hot flame. She collapses; the rattling, white noise, and flames die out.

BOBBY (catching her and lowering her to the floor) Call 9-1-1!

SAM scrambles out of his chair and into the next room. DEAN crouches over PAMELA and BOBBY. She is conscious, but bleeding and burned. Her eyelids fly open to reveal black, empty sockets. She sobs.

PAMELA I can't see! I can't see! Oh god!

In the next room we can hear SAM calling for an ambulance.

END ACT TWO

ACT THREE

INT. JOHNNY MAC'S DINER – DAY

DEAN is sitting at a table giving his order to a WAITRESS.

WAITRESS Be up in a jiff.

As she leaves, SAM enters, talking on his cell phone.

SAM (into the phone) You bet. (he sits)

DEAN What'd Bobby say?

SAM Pam's stable. And out of I.C.U.

DEAN And blind, because of us.

SAM And we still have no clue who we're dealing with.

DEAN That's not entirely true.

SAM No?

DEAN We got a name. Castiel, or whatever. With the right mumbo-jumbo we could summon him, bring him right to us.

SAM You're crazy. Absolutely not.

DEAN We'll work him over. I mean, after what he did?

SAM Pam took a peek at him and her eyes burned out of her skull, and you want to have a face to face?

DEAN You got a better idea?

SAM Yeah, as a matter of fact I do. I followed some demons to town, right?

DEAN Okay.

SAM So, we go find them. Someone's gotta know something about something.

The WAITRESS reappears with two plates of pie. She sets them on the table.

SAM Thanks.

The WAITRESS then plops down in a chair at the end of the table. DEAN looks at her, smirking.

DEAN You angling for a tip?

WAITRESS I'm sorry. Thought you were looking for us.

Her eyes go demon-black for a moment; a UNIFORMED MAN by the counter and a COOK behind the counter also show the demon-black; the UNIFORMED MAN goes to the door, locks it, and stands in front of it.

DEMON WAITRESS (eyes going back to normal) Dean. To hell and back. Aren't you a lucky duck.

DEAN That's me.

DEMON WAITRESS So you get to just stroll out of the pit, huh? Tell me. What makes you so special?

DEAN I like to think it's because of my perky nipples. I don't know. Wasn't my doing, I don't know who pulled me out.

DEMON WAITRESS Right. You don't.

DEAN No. I don't.

DEMON WAITRESS Lying's a sin, you know.

DEAN I'm not lying. But I'd like to find out, so if you wouldn't mind enlightening me, Flo...

DEMON WAITRESS Mind your tone with me, boy. I'll drag you back to hell myself.

SAM, who has been staring daggers at her through this exchange, shifts as if to attack. DEAN holds a hand up and SAM stops, settles back into his seat.

DEAN No, you won't.

DEMON WAITRESS No?

DEAN No. Because if you were you would have done it already. Fact is, you don't know who cut me loose. And you're just as spooked as we are. And you're looking for answers. Well, maybe it was some turbo-charged spirit. Or, uh, Godzilla. Or some big bad boss demon. I'm guessing at your pay grade that they don't tell you squat. Because whoever it was, they want me out. And they're a lot stronger than you. So go ahead. Send me back. But don't come crawling to me when they show up on your front doorstep with some Vaseline and a fire hose.

DEMON WAITRESS I'm going to reach down your throat and rip out your lungs.

DEAN leans forward, a challenge in his eyes. He throws a right hook at her, which she takes. He throws another. She still does nothing but glare at them, looking more and more nervous.

DEAN That's what I thought. Let's go, Sam.

They stand, and the demon sits there, fuming. DEAN pulls a roll of cash out of his pocket and carefully peels off a ten dollar bill. He holds it up and drops it on the table like an insult.

DEAN For the pie.

EXT. JOHNNY MAC'S DINER – DAY

SAM and DEAN stalk out of the diner and across the street, tense and quick.

DEAN Holy crap, that was close.

SAM We're not just going to leave them in there, are we, Dean?

DEAN Well yeah, there's three of them, probably more, and we've only got one knife between us.

SAM I've been killing a lot more demons than that lately.

DEAN Not anymore – the smarter brother's back in town.

SAM Dean, we've got to take 'em. They are dangerous.

DEAN They're scared. Okay? Scared of whatever had the juice to yank me out. We're dealing with a bad mofo here. One job at a time.

INT. ASTORIA MOTEL – NIGHT

DEAN is dozing on the couch with a large book open in his lap. SAM sneaks out, checking to make sure DEAN doesn't wake.

EXT. ASTORIA MOTEL – NIGHT

SAM drives away in the IMPALA.

INT. ASTORIA MOTEL – NIGHT

As DEAN dozes, the television flicks on to the now-familiar static, and the radio starts whining as well. It wakes DEAN, who rubs the sleep out of his eyes and rolls quickly to grab a SHOTGUN lying by the bed. He looks around cautiously, glances at SAM'S bed and sees that it is empty. He grimaces. The painfully high-pitched noise begins again, and he grabs his right ear, keeping the weapon up in his left hand. A mirror on the ceiling shatters and rains broken glass down on him. He crumples to the ground, clutching both ears as all the glass in the room shatters explosively. He screams.

BOBBY bursts into the room as more glass shatters.

BOBBY Dean!

END ACT THREE

ACT FOUR

EXT. ROAD – NIGHT

BOBBY drives his car as DEAN, in the passenger's seat, wipes blood from his face.

BOBBY How you doin', kid?

DEAN Aside from the church bells ringing in my head, peachy.

DEAN pulls out his cell phone and dials a number.

EXT. JOHNNY MAC'S DINER – NIGHT

SAM is in the IMPALA, staking out the diner full of demons. His cell phone rings; he answers it.

SAM (PHONE) Hey.

DEAN (PHONE) What are you doing?

SAM Couldn't sleep, went to get a burger.

DEAN In my car?

SAM Force of habit, sorry. What are you doing up?

DEAN Well, uh, Bobby's back. We're going to grab a beer. (on BOBBY'S shocked look, DEAN holds up a finger.)

SAM All right, well, uh, spill some for me, huh?

DEAN Done. Catch you later. (They hang up.)

BOBBY Why the hell didn't you tell him?

DEAN Because he just tried to stop us.

BOBBY From what?

DEAN Summoning this thing. (BOBBY looks at him in shock. Again.) It's time we faced it head-on.

BOBBY You can't be serious!

DEAN As a heart attack. It's high noon, baby.

BOBBY Well, we don't know what it is. It could be a demon, it could be anything.

DEAN That's why we've got to be ready for anything. (he pulls out RUBY'S DEMON-KILLING KNIFE) We've got the big-time magic knife, you've got an arsenal in the trunk...

BOBBY This is a bad idea.

DEAN Yeah, I couldn't agree more, but what other choice do we have?

BOBBY We could choose life.

DEAN Bobby, whatever this is, whatever it wants, it's after me. That much we know, right? I've got no place to hide. I can either get caught with my pants down again, or we can make our stand.

BOBBY Dean, we could use Sam on this.

DEAN Nah, he's better off where he is.

INT. JOHNNY MAC'S DINER – NIGHT

SAM sneaks into the darkened diner and slips his lock-picking tools into his shirt pocket. A song is playing on the jukebox. SAM sneaks in quietly, sees the COOK from earlier face-down on the floor, his hands bloody. SAM crouches and turns the man over; he is dead, his eyes burned out and drying blood caked on his cheeks. SAM stands.

A figure tackles him from behind – it is the DEMON WAITRESS. They trade blows for a few moments until SAM shoves her away. She too has empty, burned out eye sockets and blood trickling down her face. She looks both terrifying and terrified.

SAM Your eyes.

DEMON WAITRESS I can still smell your soul a mile away.

SAM It was here. You saw it.

DEMON WAITRESS (sobbing) I saw it.

SAM What was it?

DEMON WAITRESS It's the end. We're dead. We're all dead.

SAM (insisting) What did you see?

DEMON WAITRESS Go to hell.

SAM Funny. I was going to say the same thing to you.

SAM steps back, plants his feet, and shuts his eyes in concentration. He extends his right hand towards the demon. She heaves and begins to vomit black smoke into her hand; in seconds, the WAITRESS has collapsed to the floor as the DEMON is sucked down into the Pit. SAM opens his eyes and crosses to the woman on the floor. He checks her pulse, sighs in disappointment.

SAM Damn it.

The kitchen door opens and a woman comes out. He looks up, apparently not surprised to see her. It is the HOT YOUNG WOMAN from ACT ONE.

HOT YOUNG WOMAN (henceforth called RUBY) Getting pretty slick there, Sam. Better all the time.

SAM stands and they share a smoldering look. He looks down at the corpse at his feet, his face falling.

SAM What the hell is going on around here, Ruby?

RUBY I wish I knew.

SAM We were thinking some high level demon pulled Dean out.

RUBY No way. Sam, human souls don't just walk out of Hell and back into their bodies easy. The sky bleeds, the ground quakes. It's cosmic. No demon can swing that. Not Lilith, not anybody.

SAM Then what can?

RUBY Nothing I've ever seen before.

INT. WAREHOUSE – NIGHT

BOBBY draws a symbol with white spray paint on the cement floor. As he stands, we see that the entire floor, walls, and ceiling of the empty rectangular warehouse are covered in similar images.

DEAN (at a table, setting up equipment) That's a hell of an art project you've got going there.

BOBBY Traps and talismans from every faith on the globe. How you doin?

DEAN Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife. I mean, we're pretty much set to catch and kill anything I've ever heard of.

BOBBY This is still a bad idea.

DEAN Yeah, Bobby, I heard you the first ten times. What do you say we ring the dinner bell?

BOBBY nods reluctantly. He goes over to another desk, takes a pinch of some powder from a bowl, and sprinkles it into a larger bowl, which begins to smoke. He chants in Latin.

INT. JOHHNY MAC'S DINER – NIGHT

RUBY and SAM are seated across from each other at a small table.

RUBY So. Million dollar question, are you going to tell Dean about what we're doing?

SAM Yeah, I just gotta figure out the right way to say it. (RUBY gives him a look) Look, I just need time, okay? That's all.

RUBY Sam, he's going to find out, and if it's not from you he's going to be pissed.

SAM He's going to be pissed anyway. I mean, he's so hardheaded about this psychic stuff he'll just try and stop me.

RUBY Look. Maybe I'll just take a step back for a while.

SAM Ruby, you...

RUBY I mean, I'm not exactly in your brother's fanclub. But he is your brother, and I'm not going to come between you.

SAM I don't know if what I'm doing is right. Hell, I don't even know if I trust you.

RUBY Thanks.

SAM But what I do know is that I'm saving people. And stopping demons. And that feels good. I want to keep going.

INT. WAREHOUSE – NIGHT

DEAN and BOBBY are seated on tables, swinging their legs and looking bored.

DEAN You sure you did the ritual right? (BOBBY gives him a look) Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?

As if on cue, a loud rattling shakes the roof. DEAN and BOBBY arm themselves with shotguns and take positions at the far end of the warehouse.

DEAN Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind.

The door bursts open and a handsome man in a business suit and trenchcoat stalks in CASTIEL.

The light bulbs above his head shatter in a shower of sparks as he passes them. As he approaches, DEAN and BOBBY both open fire, but the shots do not even slow him down. Dean takes the MAGIC KNIFE as CASTIEL gets close.

DEAN Who are you?

CASTIEL I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.

DEAN Yeah. Thanks for that.

DEAN rears back and plunges the MAGIC KNIFE into CASTIEL'S chest and hits heart without any effects. CASTIEL looks down, unconcerned, and pulls it out, drops it to the floor. Behind him, BOBBY attacks; without looking, CASTIEL grabs BOBBY'S weapon and uses it to swing him around. CASTIEL touches BOBBY on the forehead with fingertips and BOBBY crumples to the ground.

CASTIEL We need to talk, Dean. Alone.

END ACT FOUR

ACT FIVE

DEAN crouches over BOBBY, checking his pulse. He glares at CASTIEL.

CASTIEL Your friend's alive.

DEAN Who are you?

CASTIEL Castiel.

DEAN Yeah, I figured that much, I mean what are you?

CASTIEL I'm an Angel of the Lord.

DEAN Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing.

CASTIEL This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.

Lightning flashes, and on CASTIEL'S back great shadowy wings appear, stretching off into the distance. The light goes out and the image disappears.

DEAN Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes.

CASTIEL I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that.

DEAN You mean the gas station and the motel. That was you talking? (CASTIEL nods.) Buddy, next time, lower the volume.

CASTIEL That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong.

DEAN And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?

CASTIEL This? This is... a vessel.

DEAN You're possessing some poor bastard?

CASTIEL He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this.

DEAN Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?

CASTIEL (frowning) I told you.

DEAN Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?

CASTIEL Good things do happen, Dean.

DEAN Not in my experience.

CASTIEL What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?

DEAN Why'd you do it?

CASTIEL Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 24

Remember I said I had another pair (technically two pairs) of interconnected prompts for the rest of the month? Well, this is the first part of the first of those sets. Conclusion tomorrow, at which point I’ll put it up on ao3. Written for:

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. 

Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

Modern AND firefighter au, I suppose? Warnings for car accidents and severe injuries, Obi-Wan being a bit of a flirt while badly hurt. Part two turns into a meet-cute full of whump? Pre-Codywan.

~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan saw accidents most every day. He’d grown used to assessing collisions with a clear head, taking them apart like a puzzle. Twisted metal and spilled fuel were only distractions, there to get in the way of his job, which was, at the end of the day, doing his best to make sure everyone involved walked away alive and as well as possible.

He knew the best way to open a crushed door on an old pick-up. In fact, he considered, panting up at the ceiling, trying to think around the crowding, noisy pain in his head, he wouldn’t try to take the door in this situation.

Someone - he didn’t know who, hadn’t gotten more than a passing glance at the vehicle - had T-boned his truck. They must have been driving a tank, he thought, with a weak laugh, because they’d driven away just fine afterwards, leaving him half-off the road, crushed against a tree, dark smoke rising out from the hood through the frozen air, his truck alarm blaring on and off for no reason he could discern.

He needed to focus. He knew that. Needed to stay conscious. Think his was through the situation. 

So...so, no, he wouldn’t have tried to open the door, not if he’d been sent out to the scene of the accident from the station, not if it were someone else sitting in the driver’s seat. Metal was pressed all against him, crushed around him. Crushed into him, he considered, twitching the fingers on his left hand and stopping as a wave of cold heat rocketed up his arm.

The front of his vehicle had been striven in by the tree he’d hit, on his way off the road. There was pressure, against his lower gut, the hard, rounded edge of the steering wheel, he thought. Internal injuries would, he considered, explain the problems he was having breathing deeply. Focusing.

That was right. He needed to focus. Someone had hit him, slammed into the driver’s side door, pushed him off the road and into this tree, left the truck smoking. He smelled something burning. They’d driven away. He’d watched the red of their brake lights disappear, tried to focus on the license plate and caught, perhaps, a pair of sixes….

And now he was pinned into place, metal holding him in a cold embrace. Opening the door, pulling the metal away all at once, could end up causing major hemorrhaging. So, if he’d been the first responder, instead of the person trapped in their truck, he would not have pulled the door right away.

His head swam. He could taste salt and copper in the back of his throat.

It was dark, he considered, staring through the cracked windshield. And he’d been on the way home, after a terribly long shift. The night was in that twisty period where it might have been better called morning, the wrong side of three A.M.

He considered the likelihood of anyone else driving down the road before the blood loss got him and didn’t like the answer he got. His cell was on the other seat, in his coat. There but unreachable.

Obi-Wan swallowed, half-laughed, and shut his eyes, just for a moment.

When he opened them again, his ears were ringing. The truck alarm had stopped, which was a relief. He was shivering, all over.

He stared forward, wondering, absently, what had woken him up. It must have been the light, he considered, groggy. For a long beat, he assumed the sun had come up, surprised he’d lived that long. It took him a long, confused moment to realize that it wasn’t the sun’s rays streaming in through his windshield, distorted by all the smoke.

The angle was all wrong. And the light was too white-blue and focused.

Headlights, his brain supplied, after he considered and discarded a half-dozen other options. Another vehicle. For a moment, he thought it was going to hit him, too, and he braced, but the lights weren’t moving.

They just stayed where they were, and he stared forward into them, thoughts getting more sluggish by the moment, until someone swore, loudly, close by and said, “Holy shit, there’s someone in here.”

Obi-Wan rolled his head to the side. The noise had come through his broken window. He blinked, his night-vision gone from staring into the light, and said, “Yes, hello.”

“Fuck,” his as-yet-unseen visitor said, eloquently. He had a nice voice, though, this strange man who had found Obi-Wan on the side of the road. Soothing. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Not really,” Obi-Wan said, feeling a crooked smile stretch across his mouth, his focus drifting away again. “How are you?” His eyes were very heavy, too heavy to keep open. He shut them, just for a moment.

He snapped them open again to his guest snapping, “Hey, hey, I need you to stay with me, alright? Keep your eyes open, alright?”

The voice was coming from a different place. Obi-Wan’s head wasn’t working right, and he recognized that, from somewhere far away. He rolled his head to the other side. There was a man in the passenger seat. Obi-Wan was almost certain he hadn’t been there before.

He was...unfamiliar. Obi-Wan had never seen him before. He had close-cropped dark hair. A set, unhappy look to his mouth. A scar down one side of his face.  “Dashing,” Obi-Wan slurred, vaguely worried that he seemed to have stopped shivering at some point.

“What?” the man asked. He wasn’t sitting properly. He had one knee on the seat and was leaning over the center console towards Obi-Wan. He was, Obi-Wan realized, after a bleary moment, doing something down by Obi-Wan’s hips. Obi-Wan looked down, head dropping heavily, and watched him slice through the seat belt with a knife.

“I said you look very dashing,” Obi-Wan gasped out, the consideration that, perhaps, this man was trying to help him slowly rising in his head. He licked his lips and asked, “Do you think you could call 911?”

“Rex is on the phone with them now,” the man said. Obi-Wan wondered who Rex was. 

“Oh, good,” he said, instead of asking. He couldn’t seem to lift his head again, which was a shame. The angle hurt his neck, terribly. He blinked, trying to focus, and managed to rasp out, “Thank you.”

The man laughed, sudden and sharp, startled, and Obi-Wan wondered what was funny but...he was too tired to ask, so tired, and--

“Hey!” the man said, loud and sharp, close. “I need you to stay awake,” he said, and, oh, he’d put a hand on Obi-Wan’s cheek, pushing his head back up so it wasn’t just hanging. He had warm skin. Calluses on his palm and fingers. “Can you do that for me?”

“Probably not, I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan told him, too tired to try to lie. The man swore, and...oh, he wasn’t in the passenger seat anymore. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how he’d gotten around the truck, but he was reaching in through the driver’s side window. Obi-Wan blinked up at him, he seemed blurry, and asked, “What’s your name?”

The man frowned, briefly, and turned to snap some words that were just white-noise in Obi-Wan’s head. Maybe he was talking to someone else. Whoever was calling 911. That would be nice. He shut his eyes.

“--Cody,” the man said, hand cupped warm against Obi-Wan’s jaw. “Hey, did you hear me?”

“Cody,” Obi-Wan slurred, because that was a name, wasn’t it? He’d wanted to know the man’s name, hadn’t he? “The handsome man. From my truck.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” the man said, he flashed a smile that looked reassuring, turned and spoke to someone else for a beat. Obi-Wan leaned against his hand. He couldn’t support the weight of his own head. It felt like it weighed roughly a ton. “Hey, hey, no, none of that, stay awake. Hey, we can’t keep him like this, he’s not going to last.”

“Fuck,” another man said, voice very similiar, so similar that for a moment Obi-Wan thought it was still Cody. “Well they’re not going to--”

“--going to hurt,” someone said. Cody. Obi-Wan blinked, made a questioning sound, and tried to scream. He didn’t think he succeeded. There was white-hot pain, lurching through his body, turning the world inside out for a moment, so that nothing else existed outside of his bones and gut, all set on fire and frozen to ice and--

“--give my hand a squeeze, can you do that for me?” There were spots of white, overhead, Obi-Wan stared up at them, drifting. The pain had gone away, somewhere else. Everything had gone somewhere else. 

Something leaned over, blocking out the spots of light. A face. Handsome. Cody. “Hey, hey, there you go, that’s good,” he said, “you just stay with us, alright? Squeeze my hand, can you do that?”

Obi-Wan took a moment to remember where his hand was. Oh, it was warm. That helped locate it. He closed his fingers, as best he could, and heard Cody make a relieved sound. Thinking about his hand brought back awareness of the rest of his body, of something soft under his back.

He was, he realized, after a long minute, laying down. He squeezed Cody’s hand again and slurred, “What?”

“We’re taking you to the ER,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan blinked at him, because that didn’t make any sense. They were supposed to wait for the ambulance. But he was vaguely aware of the thrum of an engine. He tried to focus past Cody’s face. There were… seats, he supposed. Another man, sitting in one of them.

“Why?” he asked, trying to take stock of the rest of his body. They’d...wedged him in to the backseat of a vehicle, he thought. His legs were up, elevated. He couldn’t move his left arm, but it felt warm and far away. 

“Because you were going to die if we left you there,” Cody said, drawing back Obi-Wan’s focus. He had his other hand on Obi-Wan’s stomach, pushing so hard it hurt, more than a little. Pressure, Obi-Wan thought. Pressure to keep his blood inside, where it belonged. He was… sitting in the leg-room in the backseat, wedged in awkwardly.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and slurred, “Wear your seatbelt.”

Cody made a sound. A laugh. And then he squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand and said, “Hey, no, eyes open, come on.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, just a little, and Cody shouted something at someone, maybe him. But it didn’t make any sense to tell him to drive faster. He couldn’t drive at all. And the dark behind his eyes was so warm and welcoming.

He sank into it, vaguely aware of a squeeze around his hand before he slipped under, completely.