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rewatching-sam-and-dean · 2 years ago

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The Pilot (Part 3 of 3)

So, this post will wrap up my Pilot episode commentaries, reviews … whatever they should be classified as. Again, thanks to everyone who checked out Part 1 and Part 2. This one took me ages because I ended up writing about the whole rest of the episode. And here I thought Part 2 took me a long time. But, for anyone who takes a minute to read this one, thank you. And please feel free to comment with what you liked best (or didn’t) about the Pilot.

[For anyone who might have seen this post already, I’m reposting since I needed to fix some things and Tumblr wasn’t cooperating.]

On the Road Again

(Alternate Title: Sam and Dean Brothering)

My commentary and more pic edits are under the cut …

THE CASE

ABOUT ME: Alight, so honesty time, I don’t really like horror. Yes, I watched the mainstream ones that came out in the theaters when I was in high school and university (Hello, Mr Padalecki in House of Wax), largely because it was something to go do with friends, but it’s certainly not a favorite genre of mine. I’ve never seen ones like The Exorcist and I don’t plan to. However, SPN, even in the early seasons is more like horror lite, but even then there are episodes I won’t watch while going to bed because I don’t want that crap swimming around my subconscious while I’m sleeping. But all that being said, I generally don’t mind the creep factor on the show, and I like some of the monsters, but the relationships, especially between Sam and Dean are what hooked me on the show. All this is just to explain why I generally probably won’t talk that much about the cases of the week unless they are very relevant to a plot arc or I really like/hate them.

THE MONSTER OF THE WEEK: Anyway, The Woman in White is a pretty decent first ghost to set up the show, and the case shows us what the Winchesters do when they hunt and what they know about the supernatural world. The MOTW gives us some classic horror tropes (the cheater gets killed, ghost kids are creepy as hell), and it sets up some classic SPN tropes (shooting ghosts and blood splats, anyone?). I think the ghost is sufficiently creepy. The case is fairly straightforward, but it’s not like I usually tune into the show for the mystery alone, so that’s fine with me. I think the effects are pretty decent for the ghost given when it was filmed, though the glitchy-ness makes it feel a little too much like computer effects, at times. Still, the only part that really stands out to me in a bad way is when the ghost kids zoom over to their ghost mother and … latch on to her? Whatever they are doing, it looks weird, to me, and kind of awkward, and it sort of takes me out of the moment. Overall though, I think the ghost and the first case are a good start to the show.

WORKING TOGETHER AGAIN

GETTING STARTED: When Sam and Dean first start working the case, we really start to see who they are as people and their dynamic. Surprising to no one who has watched the show, Jared and Jensen do a phenomenal job of selling Sam and Dean as siblings despite not looking much alike. Their frequent bickering and physicality paint a very convincing picture of siblings dynamics between people who grew up together. As someone with brothers myself, their teasing and the occasional smack feel on point to me.

When they get into the car, the show sets up how Dean and his Dad live and support themselves, as well as Sam's vague disdain for scamming credit cards. But one of the most classic of all SPN imagery and concepts is set up here with Dean as the driver, picking the music, with Sam riding shotgun. If this isn’t also a metaphor for a good portion of their relationship, I don’t know what is; Dean is the boss and Sam is expected to follow (except when he doesn’t). On a similar note, later in the episode, the irony of Dean calling Sam a control freak when Sam shoves his chair away from the computer is … phew. Dean, my friend, you are a black pot and Sam is your kettle. Anyway, not only does the way they act around each other, and play off of each other, more then sell them as brothers, it starts to reveal who they are.

Dean is a snarky smart-ass who clearly has little respect for authority (when it isn’t his dad), as he has no problem lying to or even mouthing-off to law enforcement. To him, they are civilians poking their noses into monster business, so he can’t be bothered to pretend to respect what they have to officer. Sam kicks Dean under the officer's sight line for his flippancy, and aside from being a classic sibling move, this suggests he has more respect for authority (when it isn’t his dad) and the law in particular (as a hopeful future lawyer, this is not a surprise) than Dean. It also shows he’s more cautious and less brash than Dean, not wanting to draw too much attention to themselves by being snarky or confrontational.

Besides starting to establish who our main characters are, this early part of the case starts to reveal the complexity of how Sam and Dean feel about each other. Clearly, there is a lot more volatile emotions simmering away than simple sibling rivalry. Sam seems to resent Dean siding with their dad over him, and both his dad and brother's for hunting and revenge. On the other hand, Dean is clearly not over Sam leaving (abandoning him, their dad and the mission) and is seemingly itching for a bit of a fight. All it takes is one statement from Sam about their mom being gone no matter what they do, for Dean to break. As I mentioned in (I think) my Part 1 discussion, this moment, paired with the introduction scenes with Mary, makes a lot of sense. Dean is pissed that Sam doesn’t seem to take the mission seriously enough, while Sam truly can’t remember her, so it’s impossible for him to feel the same connection to dad's mission of revenge as Dean. Despite growing up together, these boys clearly did not have entirely the same childhood experience (which of course, we will see more of later). Despite their tension, it’s also clear that these brothers care about each other and are comfortable together. They speak at the same time (jinx!), showing they are clearly in sync. They are both annoyed and amused by each other's teasing, especially Sam reluctantly smiling at Dean's snark. They sit so close that they’re practically on top of each other, which they definitely would not do if they didn’t like each other and weren’t comfortable with each other. And, they express their care for each other in their own (jerk-bitch) emotionally constipated way. The latter is especially true for Dean of the no chick-flick moments. Even after years apart, these guys clearly have a close bond, despite their issues.

DIVIDING AND CONQUERING

HOW THE WINCHESTERS WORK: Even when detained by the police, Dean, we see is holding true to his fearless and flippant persona as he gives the cop interrogating him little respect and a lot of attitude. We also find out a little more about Dean and John. They clearly think ahead, setting up systems for finding each other in the inevitability of them getting separated (the coordinates in the journal). This is something I love seeing in the show later with Sam and Dean, their code words and contingency plans. These are aspects of the characters that really make them feel real and competent, and I wish we got more of this throughout the seasons. When the officer gets called away, we also see that Dean is resourceful (hello, Clippy!), and can pick a lock.

Meanwhile, we see the first hints os Sam's true super power, puppy-dog eyes. Still, they must not be up to full power after years off the job, as the widower ends up storming off in an offended and guilty huff. Next, as it turns out, Sam was the one who called in the tip that cleared out station, giving Dean the opportunity to make his escape. I love that Sam does this for three particular reasons. First, it shows that he’s smart and resourceful, and, despite his desire to no longer be a part of the hunting life, thinking on his feet is clearly still very much a part of him. Secondly, and related to my first point, this move shows how he and a Dean are a team, even when separated. Sam knows that if he gets Dean an opportunity, he will find a way to use it and escape. Finally, this little move of essentially prank calling the cops, reveals more about Sam. Mr. Future Lawyer is not above breaking the rules if it means helping his brother. This confirms to us that Sam isn’t exactly the straight-laced guy he appears to be at the start of the episode.

A couple more things that stand out for me, while the brothers are on the phone, is how proud Dean clearly is of Sam fior making that call into the police (one of us! one of us!), and Sam is full on smiling while discussing his recent misdemeanor. Whether he likes it or not, a part of Sam enjoys this. He is having fun hunting, or at least hanging out with Dean, and Dean is loving having Sam back.

REUNITED FOR NOW

(But really, for the next 15 years, give or take a few separations)

BETTER TOGETHER: So, not-unsurprisingly, Sam gets attacked by the ghost. He is a faithful guy, which already seemed pretty clear from his vibe when he’s first introduced in the episode, but it’s nice to have confirmed. The ghost doesn’t care and basically sexually assaults him so that she’ll be justified in killing him. I mean … bad form, Constance. Dean shows up shooting her in the face, which distracts her just long enough (despite not being salt shells - is this when they get the idea to start using salt shells, I can’t recall?) for Sam to crash the impala into the house, effectively taking her home. So, Sam helped save Dean by giving him a chance to get out of custody, and Dean helps save Sam by distracting the ghost so Sam can bring her back to the house. I like how they both save each other, or give each other the opportunity to save themselves. This establishes that they are both capable alone but better when they work as a team.

So, besides my comments on the screen shots above, a few more things really stand out for me in the final parts of the episode. Sam, who just crashed a car into an abandoned house, was attacked by a ghost, and has now been threatened by his sibling, is again smiling. This weirdo is having a good time, and I love it. I keep pointing this out because I don’t think I fully noticed just how much Sam smiles in the Pilot when I watched it before, and a lot of the time it’s with Dean or just after breaking the law or being attacked. It really adds some interesting nuance to Sam, who is not simple the straight man, and informs his conflict over going back home.

Another thing that stands out to me here is just how desperately Dean wants Sam to stay with him. We can practically feel it through the screen. A part of him was clearly starting to hope that now that they found their groove again, Sam might just stay with him, that maybe he would blow off that law school interview after all. He is clearly crushed when Sam says he has to get back, and we pretty much see him scrambling to pull his armor back on to protect himself from Sam's rejection. It’s almost heartbreaking, which is a testament to Jensen's acting, as well his and Jared's chemistry and ability to make these guys seem real. In just about 45 minutes, we are invested in these characters and their relationship. Jared does a good job with Sam, too. We can clearly see his conflict; he did have fun hunting with Dean, it’s clear that he had missed Dean, and I think a part of him wants to stay with Dean. But Sam is stubborn, and more than that, he has built a new life for himself, a plan. Still, when he offers that olive branch when they’re saying goodbye, of him and Dean hanging out some time soon, I believe that he wants to, but I’m not sure if either of them believe it will happen. It’s actually sad to think they are going their separate ways, and we’re already rooting for them to stay together.

Finally, the episode comes full circle with Sam finding Jess on the ceiling (not pictured above because it just creeps me out, like with Mary), the fire, Dean saving him again by pulling him out of the fire, and Sam picking up his father's mantel of vengeance. At this point, Dean has been fully established in our eyes as Sam's protector, and Sam has been established as our doubly tragic hero who is now on his own mission for revenge.

FINAL THOUGHTS: One last thing that I forgot to mention above that I love about the Pilot is the humor that runs though it. It’s not uproariously funny or anything, but it has nice doses of humor throughout. A good amount of this comes from Dean who is established as a funny character, but funny moments also come from a lot of the brothers' interactions. Their squabbling and backhands, or digs on each other, add a nice bit of realism and lightness to what could otherwise be an unrelentingly dark episode. I love how this becomes an established part of the show later, I think starting especially in Season 2. In later seasons, though it does get a little too heavy handed for me on occasion. I think it’s ultimately a big part of what mane Supernatural different. That and Sam and Dean's general unhingedness regarding each other.

Regarding Jess, as much as I like her character and believe Sam would have eventually returned to hunting regardless, now that Dean is back in his life, I think it makes sense that she dies here, giving him that push. It gets them going on the hunt more quickly. Also, I read somewhere that the writers had toyed with having Jess be possessed. I’m truly glad they never went that route. I think it’s much more poignant that she was just a good person, who Sam loved. It’s more tragic, more painful him him to lose her as she is in the Pilot, and it’s ultimately a more pure relationship.

At the end of the episode, we are left with a lot of questions to speculate on, and even more that we want to find answers for. This, besides establishing the characters, is just about the most important thing a Pilot can do. It leaves us curious and wanting to know more. Would Sam have seen Dean again if Jess hadn’t died (yes)? Where is the dad? Why is he leaving them coordinates, instead of just calling or texting them? When are we going to see him again. What is going to happen to Sam now that he’s lost Jess in this way? What will this mean for the brother’s relationship going forward? What killed their mother and Jess? Why? What other kinds of scary crap are the boys going to come up against?

Will we find some of the answers in Season 1, Episode 2, Wendigo (I mean … mostly, no)?

Well, this ended up being way longer than I planned, so if you made it to the end, thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to comment or reblog with your thoughts on the episode!

To be Continued …

… in Wendigo, Part 1, coming soon-ish …

#Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #sam and dean #Supernatural #Rewatching S&D #The Pilot #My Thoughts #My Edits #Jared Padalecki #Jensen Ackles

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wasjust-a-fangirl-here · 4 years ago

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Blind-Sided. (Part 1)

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Summary: This fic just follows the first episode, but Dean has a daughter, you.

Word Count: 7,098.

Fandom: Supernatural.

Warnings: Swearing, etc.

Pairings: Dean X Daughter!Reader, Sam X Niece!Reader.

Note: I did not proof-read this.. Here’s the first part to Blind-Sided. I have no idea where this was going, I just wanted to write something. I didn’t know what to do with this first part, but here it is and I might do another part maybe, differently, of course.

Here’s the Prologue to this.

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"So, what are you gonna do? You just gonna live some normal, apple pie-life? Is that it?" Dean questioned, walking behind the impala.

"No, not normal. Safe." Sam answered, following behind Dean. "And that's why you ran away." Dean said, scoffing.

Sam huffed, "I was just going to college. It was dad who said' if I was going to go, I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing." Sam says, looking at Dean.

"Yeah, well, dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already, I can feel it." Dean said, "I can't do this alone." He added, looking back at Sam.

"Yes, you can." Sam says quietly, "yeah, well, I don't want to." Dean says, looking away from Sam.

Before Sam can reply, he hears a small voice asking; "is everything okay, dad?" They both turned to look at you, seeing you lean out the window, tiredly rubbing your eyes.

Dean smiled at you, "yeah, bug, go back to sleep." Dean says to you, hearing a small 'okay' from you, he turned back to Sam.

"So, 'dad' huh?" Sam asked, a small smile on his lips. Dean scoffed, "shut up, bitch." He retorts, hearing Sam laugh, he smiled again.

"Alright, jerk." Sam says, "what was he hunting?" He asked, Dean turned to open the trunk, letting out a small 'alright' "Let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?" Dean talked to himself, looking through the trunk.

"So, when dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asked, leaning against the car. "I was working my own gig, this voodoo thing, down in New Orleans." Dean replied.

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" Sam mockingly asked, Dean looked at him. "I'm 26, dude." Dean says defensively.

Dean grabbed a folder, taking out the papers, "alright, here we go." He says, standing straight. "So, dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California.

About a month ago, this guy. They had found his car, but he had vanished, completely MIA." Dean says, starting to explain what their father was hunting, handing Sam some papers.

Sam looked at the papers Dean handed him, "so maybe he was kidnapped." He suggested, looking up from the papers.

"Yeah, well, here's another in April, another one in December '04, '03, '98, '92, ten of them in the past twenty years.

All men, all same five-mile stretch of road." Dean says, putting the papers back into the folder. "It started happening more and more, so, dad went to go dig around.

That was about three weeks ago, and I haven't heard from hi since. Which is bad enough." Dean added, grabbing a recorder.

"And then I get this voicemail yesterday." Dean said, pressing play, both he and Sam listening to the recording. "You know there's E.V.P. on that?" Sam asked, looking at Dean.

Dean grinned, "not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Sam looked down, shaking his head. "All right, so, I slowed the message down and ran it through a gold-wave, took out the hiss and this is what I got." Dean says, pressing play again.

"I can never go home." A woman says on the recording. Dean looked at Sam, pausing the recorder. "Never go home." Sam repeated, thinking about the recording.

Dean stood up, closing the trunk of his car, "you know, in almost two years, I never bothered you or asked you for a thing." Dean says in a matter-of-factly tone, turning to sit on the car, looking at Sam.

Sam sighs, "all right, I'll go. I'll help you find him." Sam says, "but I have to get back first-thing Monday. Just wait here." He added, turning to go pack a few things.

Before he can walk away, "what's first-thing Monday?" Dean asked, Sam turned back around, "I have this... I have an interview." Sam answers, "what, a job interview? Skip it." Dean says, shrugging his shoulders.

Sam scoffed, he knew Dean wouldn't understand. "It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate." Sam said, frowning at Dean.

"Law school?" Dean asked, smiling at Sam. "So, we got a deal or not?" Sam asked, Dean stayed quiet. Sam took that as a yes and left to go pack.

Dean got into his car, sighing. "So, that's uncle Sam, huh?" You asked once he sat down. Dean turned to look at you, "I thought you went back to sleep." He says, seeing you shrug your shoulders.

"I tried, but I couldn't sleep." You say, moving closer to the front of the car. "He sounded upset, is he not coming?" You asked, Dean noticed that you were worried.

"He's coming, but only for a few days." Dean answered, frowning a little. "Can we listen to AC/DC while we wait?" You asked, sitting back against your seat.

Dean grinned widely, going through his collection, putting in the cassette, Highway To Hell starts playing.

Dean looked at you through the mirror, seeing you smile. Dean smiled, he knew this was one of your favorite songs by AC/DC.

You were badly singing along to another song, you laughed, watching your dad drumming along to the beat against the steering wheel. Dean turned to you, smiling.

The song ended and Walk All Over You started playing, Dean heard you sighing, seeing you lean forward and resting your head against the back of the front seat.

Halfway through the song, Dean noticed you were watching Sam with curious eyes.

Dean turned down the music, starting the car and started to drive away from the building.

Nobody spoke, you broke the some-what silence; "hi." Dean heard you say softly to Sam. Dean saw from the corner of his eye, Sam turning to you in surprise.

"Hi, what's your name?" Sam asked politely. Dean looked in mirror, seeing you smile, "Y/n." You replied, holding your hand out to shake his.

Sam smiled, taking your hand and shook it, "nice to meet you." You both say at the same time, making you laugh. Dean smiled, he loved to hear you laugh.

"Daddy said you'd be tall, and smart, and that's why you're at college." Dean heard you say, Sam laughed, "yeah. Yeah, I am." He said, turning in his seat to look at you.

"What else did he tell you?" Sam asked curiously. Dean listened to you tell Sam all the things you can, until you were starting to fall asleep.

As soon as you fell asleep, Sam turned back forward, glancing at Dean.

Dean looked at you through the mirror again, seeing you wrapped in your blanket. Sam also looking at you again, once he knew you were fully asleep, he looked at Dean.

"Who's who her mother? How old is she?" Sam asked, Dean sighed, his jaw clenching and unclenching a few times. "Remember Mia?" Dean asked, glancing at Sam.

"Yeah, her parents were killed by, what was it? Vampires? Yeah, vampires." Sam says, nodding his head. "Yeah." Dean says, "that's who her mother is?" Sam asked again.

"Yeah, and to answer your other question; she's five, about to turn six soon." Dean said, smiling at Sam. "Where is she?" Sam asked quietly, "Mia, she called me. Told me to go to her as fast as I can.

And I did. What I wasn't expecting was to find her bleeding out and little Y/n confused, but still trying to her mom." Dean said, gripping the steering wheel and loosening his grip.

"She died, but asked me to look after our daughter. I wasn't sure at first, but once I had a good look at her, I knew. She was, is, my daughter." Dean added, Sam turned to look at you.

You were still asleep, Sam stared at you, noticing you had some of Dean's features. Sam smiled softly, he knew once you opened your eyes, they'd be a little like your mom's, if he remembered correctly.

Sam turned back forward in his seat, sighing.

About five hours into driving nonstop, you were still asleep.

Sam looked at you again, chuckling and shaking his hand. "Is she always asleep when you drive?" Sam asked, Dean glanced at him, smiling. "Yeah, I think she loves the sound of the engine." Dean answered.

Half an hour later, you woke up, as Dean parked at a gas station. Dean got out of the car, you following besides him. "What are you doing?" Dean asked, looking down at you.

"I have to use the bathroom." You answered, looking up at him, both of you walking inside, you, heading straight for the bathroom.

Dean shook his head, grabbing a few things to buy, also grabbing what he knew you liked. Dean walked up to the counter, seeing you walking over to him. After Dean paid for the stuff, he handed you some of the stuff.

Both of you walked outside, you going towards the car and going inside, while Dean went to fill up the car with gas.

"Hey, you want breakfast?" Dean asked, holding up a bag of chips and a bottle of soda in one hand and candy in the other. Sam scoffed, "no, thanks." He answered, going through Dean's cassette tapes.

"Besides, how'd you pay for all that stuff? You and dad still running credit card scams?" Sam asked, "yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro-ball career." Dean answered.

"Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards." He added, going over to the drivers side once he was done.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head, "yeah, and what names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asked, closing the door, box of cassette tapes on his lap.

"Uh, Burt Aframian, and his son Hector." Dean said, tossing the stuff he had in his hands on the seat, starting the car. "Scored two cards out of the deal." He added, smiling at Sam.

"Sounds about right." Sam admitted, nodding his head. "I swear man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection." Sam said, still going through the box of tapes.

"Why?" Dean questioned, "well, for one; they're cassette tapes, and two; Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock." Sam answers, throwing a cassette tape back into the box.

"House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole." Dean stated, grabbing one of the tapes and put it in. "You know, 'Sammy' is a chubby twelve-year old. It's Sam, okay?" Sam says, as Back In Black started playing.

Dean heard you laugh, he smiled at Sam. "Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud." Dean says, turning up the music and drove away from the gas station.

Sam got off the phone, hanging up. "All right, so, there's no one matching dad at the hospital or morgue. So that's something." Sam said, Dean glanced at him, nodding.

"Check it out." Dean says, seeing police cars and officers on a bridge. Dean parked away from them and looked in the glove compartment. "Alright, sweetheart. You know what to do." Dean says to you.

"Stay hidden, and don't make any noise." Dean heard you say monotonously, he turned to look at you, seeing a comic book in your hands and sitting at the far right in the shadow.

Sam turned to look at you, wondering just how used to this you are. "Let's go." Dean says to Sam, he followed Dean, going out the door and walking towards the abandon car, he assumed.

"Spotless. It's almost too clean." Dean and Sam heard someone say, "so, this kid, Troy. He's dating your daughter, isn't he?" A man asked, "yeah." Another replied, "how's Amy doing?" He asked again.

"She's putting up missing posters downtown." He answered, "you fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean asked, "and who are you?" The same person asked, looking at Dean and Sam.

"Federal marshals." Dean answered, showing him his fake badge. "You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?" He questioned skeptically, "ha, thanks. That's awfully kind of you.

You did have another one just like this, correct?" Dean asked again, walking closer to the car. "Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There's been others before that." He answered.

"So, this victim. You knew him?" Sam asked him, he nodded his head. "Town like this, everybody knows everybody." He answers, "any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?" Dean asked, walking around the car, hands behind his back.

"No, not as far as we can tell." He answered, "so, what's the theory?" Sam asked, walking towards Dean. "Honestly? We don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?" He answered.

"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys." Dean commented, Sam stomped on Dean's foot, forcing a smile at the police officer.

"Thank you for your time." Sam said to him, "gentlemen." He added, walking away, Dean following behind him and hitting Sam behind his head.

"Ow." Sam said, turning to Dean. "What was that for?" Sam asked, "why you gotta step on my foot?" Dean asked, "why do you gotta talk to police like that?" Sam retorted, Dean looked at him.

"Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find dad, we gotta get to the bottom of this thing ourselves." Dean said, Sam looked over Dean's shoulder, clearing his throat.

Dean turned around, seeing the sheriff and two FBI agents. "Can I help you boys?" The sheriff asked, "no, sir. We were just leaving." Dean answered, "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully." Dean said as the two FBI agents walked past them.

Dean and Sam walked past the sheriff and towards the impala.

Dean turned to looked at you, seeing that you were asleep again.

He and Sam got out of the car and saw a girl hanging up a missing poster. "I'll bet you that's her." Dean says, "yeah." Sam said, both of them walking towards her.

"You must be Amy." Dean says to her, "yeah." She answers, "yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean and this is Sammy." Dean said, pointing to Sam.

"He never mentioned you to me." Amy says, glancing at them and starting to walk again. "Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto." Dean says, walking besides her.

"So, we're looking for him too and we're kinda asking around." Sam said, standing in front of her, another girl walked over to them. "Hey, are you okay?" She asked Amy, "yeah." Amy answered her.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?" Sam asked them, "sure." Amy said, all of them walking towards a restaurant. "I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home.

He said he would call me right back. And, uh... he never did." Amy explained, the four of them sitting in a booth. "He didn't say anything strange? Or out of the ordinary?" Sam asks, "no." Amy replied, "nothing I can remember." She added, shaking her head.

Sam looked at her, "I like your necklace." He said, nodding at it. Amy looked down, grabbing the pendant into her hand, smiling. "Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents,

with all that devil stuff." She says, breathing out a laugh. Sam smiled, looking down at the cup in his hands and looking back at her. "Actually, it means just the opposite.

A pentagram is protection against evil." Sam explains, "really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." He added, "okay. Thank you, unsolved Mysteries." Dean said, patting Sam's shoulder.

"Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared... something's not right. So, if you've heard anything..." Dean said, seeing them look at each other.

"What is it?" Dean asked, "well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk." Amy's friend says, looking between him and Sam. "What do they talk about?" Sam and Dean questioned at the same time.

Amy's friend glanced at her, looking back at them. "It's kind of this local legend. This one girl, she got murdered out on Centennial, like, decades ago. Well, supposedly, she's still out there.

She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up, well, they disappear forever." She explains to them. Sam and Dean looked at each other.

You were still asleep when they went back to the car.

Dean and Sam decided to go to the local library to search for some more answers, leaving you in the car again.

Dean was typing on the computer, 'no results found' Dean read, his brows furrowed, typing again, 'no results found' showing again. "Let me try." Sam says, his hand going towards the keyboard.

Dean swatted his hand away, "I got it." He says, typing again. Sam sighed, pushing Dean's chair away. "Dude! You're such a control freak." He said, hitting Sam.

"So, angry spirits are born out of violent deaths, right?" Sam asks, typing on the keyboard. "Yeah," Dean answered, looking at the computer screen. "But maybe it's not murder." Sam said, typing in 'Suicide' instead of 'Murder'.

'1 result found' it showed, Sam clicked on it, Dean's eyebrows rose, glancing at Sam and then back at the screen.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, 24 years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge. Drowns in the river." Sam read aloud, "does it say why she did it?" Dean asks, "yeah." Sam answers.

"Why?" Dean asks again, "an hour before they found her, she calls 911. Her two little kids are in the bathtub, she leaves them alone for a minute and when she comes back, they aren't breathing.

Both die." Sam read again, "hmm." Dean says, "'our babies were gone and Constance just couldn't bear it.' Said husband Joseph Welch." Sam finished, "that bridge look familiar to you?" Dean asked, pointing at the picture with a pen.

It was dark when Dean and Sam went back to the car, they saw that you were awake, waiting for them.

He and Sam decided to go back to the bridge, Dean parked and looked at you. "Stay in the car, okay?" He asked, you nodded your head, leaning against the car door.

Both he and Sam got out of the car and walked in the middle of the bridge. "So, this is where Constance took the swan dive." Dean said, leaning over, looking at the running water below.

"You think dad would have been here?" Sam asked, looking at Dean. "Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him." Dean answered, walking and looking around.

"Okay, so now what?" Sam asked, following behind Dean. "Now we keep digging till we find him. Might take a while." Dean replied, Sam stopped walking, sighing. "Dean. I told you. I gotta get back by..."

"By Monday. Right. The interview." Dean interrupted, turning to look at Sam. "Yeah," Sam says, "yeah. I forgot." He added, "you're really serious about this, aren't you?

You think you're just gonna become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean questioned, "maybe. Why not?" Sam answers, "does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?" Dean asked again.

"No. And she's not ever going to know." Sam says, stepping closer to Dean. "Well, that's healthy." Dean says, "you can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later

you're gonna have to face up to who you really are." he added, turning to walk again. "And who's that?" Sam asked, following Dean. "You're one of us." Dean answered simply.

"No, I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life." Sam says, walking in front of Dean, both of them stopping. "You have a responsibility." Dean stated, "to dad? And his crusade?

If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what mom looks like." Sam says, "and what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, mom's gone and she isn't coming back.

I mean, even Y/n won't know who her grandmother is, other than you and dad telling her who she is and the pictured you guys show her." He added, Dean grabbed Sam and pushed him against the bridge.

"Don't talk about her like that." Dean says, looking at Sam. Dean let go of him, walking away from Sam. Dean saw a woman standing on the railing of the bridge.

"Sam." Dean says, not looking away from the woman as she looked at the both of them and then jumped off the bridge. They both ran towards her, leaning over and seeing nothing.

"Where'd she go?" Dean asked, "I don't know." Sam says, as the engine of Dean's car started and the lights turned on. Dean looked towards his car, Sam doing the same thing.

"What the?" Dean says, "who's driving your car? Does Y/n know how to start the car? Did you leave the keys?" Sam asks, Dean pulled out his keys from his pocket.

"No." Dean answered, holding up the keys. Sam looked at the keys in Dean's hand and back at the car as it started to drive towards them, they both heard you scream as it drove.

Dean and Sam ran away from the car, jumping off the bridge. It stopped driving as they jumped off. Sam, even though he jumped off, he grabbed onto the bridge. Sam climbed and sat on the edge, looking down at the running water below.

"Dean! Dean!" Sam yelled, seeing Dean crawling out of the water and lying down on his back. "What?" Dean yelled back, Sam smiled. "Hey, are you alright?" Sam asked.

"I'm super." Dean says, laying there for a while. Sam laughed, going over the rails and saw you standing just outside the car. Sam walked over to you, "hey, are you okay?" He asked, putting a hand on your shoulder.

Sam saw you jump in surprise, but relaxed once you saw it was him. "Where's my dad?" You asked, looking up at him. "He's down by the water, he's coming." Sam answered, as you climbed onto the hood of the car.

"Did the ghost do that to the car?" You asked, looking at Sam. "Yeah," Sam replied, standing next to you. It was five minutes before Sam heard Dean walking over to the both of you.

"Y/n, thank god." Dean says, Sam looked at you, seeing your nose scrunching. "Are you okay?" Dean asks, walking closer to you, but you hid behind Sam. "Yeah, I'm okay." You say from behind Sam.

Sam laughed, "what are you doing, bug?" Dean asked, trying to look at you. "You stink." You say, again, from behind Sam, peaking at your dad, smiling. You jumped down from the car, going back inside, Sam walking besides you.

Dean shook his head, going to look over his car, opening the hood of it. "Car all right?" Sam asked, walking over to Dean, as he closed it. "Yeah. Whatever she did to it, seems all right now." Dean answers, standing in front of the car, Sam nodded his head.

"That Constance chick, what a bitch!" Dean yelled, "well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure." Sam says, he and Dean sitting on the hood of the car.

"So, where's the trail go from here, genius?" Sam asked, Dean threw his hands up, shrugging. Sam, finally noticing the stench coming off of Dean, looking at him.

"Y/n's right, you smell like a toilet." Sam said, looking at Dean. Dean looked down at himself, he did smell.

Dean found a motel as the sun came up. You stayed in the car while he and Sam went to go check in.

"One room, please." Dean says, the man grabbed the credit card Dean put on the counter. "You guys having a reunion or somethin'?" He asked, looking up from the card and then at him and Sam.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, "that other guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month." He answered, Dean nodded his head, looking at Sam.

Both of them walked out and headed towards the room their dad paid for, after asking which room it was.

Sam picked the lock, while Dean stood behind him, looking around. Sam opened the door, walking inside, looking behind himself and saw Dean still standing there. Sam grabbed Dean's jacket and pulled him inside.

Sam closed the door once Dean was inside, still holding onto him. They both looked around the room, "whoa." Sam said, Dean walked over to a lamp and turned it on.

Dean grabbed a hamburger that was on the nightstand and smelt it, he groaned, putting it back on the nightstand. "I don't think he's been here for a couple of days, at least." Dean says, looking at Sam.

Sam was crouching down, looking at the salt around the bed. "Salt. Cat's eye shells. He was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in." Sam says, standing up, looking at Dean.

Dean walked over to the wall, looking at the papers their dad hung up. "What do you got here?" Sam asked, walking over to Dean. "Centennial Highway victims." Dean answers, still looking at the papers.

"I don't get it. They're different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities... there's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?" Dean asked, as Sam walked over to the other side of the room.

Sam turned on another lamp, "huh. Dad figured it out." Sam said, staring at the papers. Dean looked at him, "what do you mean?" He asked, "he found the same article we did.

Constance Welch. She's a 'Woman In White'." Sam answers, looking at Dean, while he looked back at the wall in front of him. "You sly dogs. Alright, so, if we're dealing with a 'Woman In White', dad would have

found the corpse and destroyed it." Dean says, looking back at Sam. Sam looked at the papers in front of him, "she might have another weakness." He said, nodding his head.

"No, dad would wanna make sure. He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?" Dean says, walking over to Sam, standing by him. "No. Not that I can tell. If I were dad, though, I'd go ask her husband.

If he's still alive." Sam says, "hmm." Dean said, "alright. Why don't you go see if you can find an address and get Y/n from the Car. I'm gonna get cleaned up." Dean says, "hey, Dean. What I said earlier, about mom and dad, I'm sorry..." Sam starts to say, but Dean held up a hand to stop him.

"No chick flick moments." Dean interrupts, Sam laughed, "all right, jerk." Sam says, nodding his head. "Bitch." Dean replied, heading into the bathroom.

Sam chuckled, walking towards a mirror and grabbing a picture of his dad, Dean and him, smiling at it.

Sam went out the door, to go get you and Dean's bag so he can change into different clothes.

Sam and you walked into the room, Sam saw you head straight for the bed and immediately going to sleep.

Sam laughed, walking towards the bathroom and putting Dean's bag inside by the door, closing it and walking back towards the bed, sitting down.

As Sam was listening to his voicemail, Dean walked out of the bathroom. "Hey, man, I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner and also grab Y/n something to eat as well." Dean says, grabbing his jacket.

"You want anything?" Dean asked, "no," Sam answered, looking at Dean. "Aframian's buying." Dean said, standing by the door. "Uh-uh." Sam said, Dean looked at you and walked out the door.

Putting on his jacket, Dean looked to his right, seeing the cops from yesterday and the guy from check-in, pointing at Dean.

Dean turned, grabbing his phone out of his pocket, calling Sam. "What?" Sam answered, "dude, five-o. Take off." Dean says, "what about you?" Sam asked, "uh, they kind of spotted me.

Go find dad." Dean said, hanging up the phone. Dean turned around, looking at the cops. "Problem, officers?" Dean asked, smiling at them. "Where's your partner?" One of them asked, crossing his arms.

"Partner, what... What Partner?" Dean asked, stalling them.

Sam woke you up, looking out the window as a police officer walked over to the room.

"Come on, sweetheart." Sam says, both of you heading into the bathroom and out the window.

Both Sam and you walked around and headed straight for the impala. Sam opened the door for you and closed it once you were inside. Sam went over to the drivers side and started the car, driving away.

"Where's my dad?" Sam heard you ask tiredly, "uh, about that. It might be a while before we see him again." Sam answers, looking at you through the mirror.

"Can we go somewhere and eat?" You asked again, "I'm hungry." You added, "Yeah, sure." Sam says, going to the diner that Dean was supposed to go to.

Sam parked, both of you getting out the car and walked into the diner. Both of you walked towards an empty booth, a waitress walked over to you guys and handed both of you menus.

"Hi, what's your name cutie?" She asks, smiling at you. Sam saw you smiling nervously at her, "Y/n." You answer, looking at Sam and back at her. The waitress looked at Sam.

"She yours?" She asked, "oh, no. No, she's my niece." Sam says, "hey, uncle Sam. Can we order now?" You asked, Sam looked at you. "Yeah, sweetheart." Sam says, "what do you want?" He asked, you smiled.

"French toast, please?" You asked politely, looking up at the waitress. She nodded her head, looking at Sam. "Same for me." Sam says, grabbing the menu from you and handing both of them to the waitress.

"Okay, you want anything to drink?" She asked, grabbing the menus. "Apple juice, please?" Sam hears you say, "water for me, thanks." Sam said to her, "alright." The waitress said, walking away.

After you both ate, Sam and you were driving around town. Sam was asking around for Joseph Welch.

Sam parked, once he found out where Joseph Welch lived. Sam turned to look at you, seeing you laying down and reading another comic book.

Sam got out of the car and headed straight for the door, knocking on it. A man answered the door, "hi, uh, are you Joseph Welch?" Sam asked, "yeah." He answered, walking out the door.

"Did this guy, come over and ask you a few questions?" Sam questioned, both of them walking, Sam handed him a picture. "Yeah. He was older, but that's him." Joseph says, handing back the picture.

"Came by here three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter." He added, "that's right. We're working on a story together." Sam said, nodding at him. "Well, I don't know what the hell kind of story you're working on.

The questions he asked me." Joseph says, looking at Sam. "About your late wife, Constance." Sam says, "he asked me where she was buried." Joseph says, "and where is that again?" Sam asked.

"What, I gotta go through this twice?" He asked, "it's fact-checking." Sam says, "if you don't mind." He added.

"In a plot behind my old place, over on Breckenridge." Joseph says, "and why did you move?" Sam continued to ask, "I'm not gonna live in the house my children died." Joseph admitted, he stopped walking, looking at Sam.

Sam stopped walking as well, looking back at Joseph. "Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?" Sam asks, "no, way. Constance, she was the love of my life." Joseph replied, shaking his head.

"Prettiest woman I ever know." He added, "so, you had a happy marriage?" Sam asked, nodding his head. "Definitely." Joseph answered hesitantly, Sam sighed. "Well, that should do it.

Thanks for your time." Sam says, walking towards Dean's car. Sam looked at the keys in his hands in thought, looking up. "Mr. Welch, you ever hear of a 'Woman In White'?" Sam asked, looking over at Joseph.

Joseph turned to look at Sam. "A what?" Joseph asked, "a 'Woman In White'. Or sometimes 'Weeping Woman'?" Sam repeated, "it's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really.

Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years. Dozens of places: In Hawaii, Mexico, lately, in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women, you understand, but all share the same story." Sam explains, walking over to Joseph.

"Boy, I don't care much for nonsense." Joseph says, turning to walk away. "See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. And these woman, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.

Then, once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him.

And that man is never seen again." Sam added, "you think... that has something to do with Constance, you smart-ass?" Joseph asked angrily, "you tell me." Sam says, "I mean, maybe.. Maybe I made some mistakes

But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell outta here. And you don't come back." Joseph said, looking at Sam, before walking away.

Sam sighed, watching him walk away. Sam got into the car and drove away, calling the police station and faking a call.

A few hours of driving around, Sam headed towards Breckenridge.

Sam answered his phone, "fake 911 phone call, Sammy? I don't know, that's pretty illegal." Sam heard Dean say, "you're welcome." Sam says, smiling. "Listen, we gotta talk." Dean says.

"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a 'Woman In White', and she's buried behind her old house, so that would have been dad's next stop..." Sam says, "Sammy, would shut up for a second?" Dean asked, interrupting him.

"I can't figure out why he hasn't destroyed the corpse yet." Sam added, "that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho." Dean said, "what? How do you know that?" Sam asked, glancing at you in the mirror.

"I've got his journal." Dean answered, "he doesn't go anywhere without that thing." Sam says, focusing back and forth from the road and the side of the road.

"Yeah, well, he did this time." Dean says, "what's it say?" Sam questioned, "ah, that same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going." Dean replied.

"Coordinates. Where to?" Sam asked again, "I'm not sure yet." Dean answers, "I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that dad would just skip out in the middle of a job?

Dean, what the hell is going on?" Sam asked, "whoa!" He gasped, stepping on the brakes and dropping the phone. "Sam? Sam, are you guys okay? Sam!" Dean yells on the phone.

The car stopped, Sam looked at the road in front of him, breathing heavily. "Uh. Uncle Sam?" Sam heard you ask, he turned to look at you.

Sam saw you looking at a woman sitting next to you, she looked at you and then at Sam. "Take me home." Was all she said, Sam and you didn't respond to her for a while.

"Take me home." She repeated firmly, "no." Sam says, looking at her through the mirror. She squinted her eyes at him, locking the doors and started to drive the car.

Sam tried to open the doors and windows, then he tried to get control of the steering wheel, but it was no use. Sam sighed, sitting back against his seat.

The car parked outside an abandoned house, "don't do this." Sam says, looking at her through the mirror again. "I can never go home." She says, despair in her voice, looking at the house.

"You're scared to go home." Sam says, turning to look at her, but she was gone when he turned around, looking at where she was sitting and then at you.

Sam turned back forward, looking out the door and then at the passenger side, seeing her again. She was moving closer to Sam and placing herself on his lap.

"Hold me, I'm so cold." She said, "you can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful." Sam says, "I've never been." He added, closing his eyes, trying to move away from her touch.

She leaned towards his ear, "you will be. Just hold me." She says, before kissing him. She sat up and disappeared. Sam looked around, seeing you had your eyes covered, sitting on the seat with your back against the door.

Sam screamed in pain, unzipping his sweater and looked at his chest, seeing her fingers in his chest as she reappeared, disfigured. Sam screamed in pain, while you screamed in fear.

You both heard gun shots and glass breaking, Sam looked out the broken window, seeing Dean aiming his gun at the window still. Dean shot again, Sam sat up, "I'm taking you home." Sam said, driving the car straight into the house.

Dean's eyes widen seeing the car go straight into the house and heard you stop screaming. "Sam!" Dean yelled, Sam stopped the car. "Sam?" Dean asked, "here." Sam answers, groaning in pain.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, walking towards your door, seeing you leaning against the seat, unconscious. "Hey, bug, are you okay?" Dean asked as he opened the door looking over you.

You had a cut on your right side of your forehead, other than that, you were fine, unconscious, but fine as Dean can tell. Dean lied you down, leaving you in the car.

"Sam are you okay?" Dean asked, going out the car and going to the front passenger side to help Sam out. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think, is she okay?" Sam answered, looking at you and then at Dean who opened the door, "can you move?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Help me." Sam replied, Dean helped him out of the car. "There you go." Dean said, both of them standing by the car, seeing Constance holding a picture frame.

She looked up from the frame, looking at the both of them angrily, throwing the picture frame down and pushing a dresser in front of them, they both groaned, trying to push the dresser away from them.

The lights flickered and Constance looked towards the stairs, water was coming down. She went over by the bottom of the stairs, seeing her children. "You've come home to us, mommy." They both say, going by her side and hugging her.

Constance screamed, the three of them dissolving into a puddle.

Dean and Sam watched their interaction, before looking at each other and finally pushing the dresser down and away from them. Both of them walking over to where Constance and her kids were not ten seconds ago.

"So this is where she drowned her kids." Dean says, sighing. "That's why she could never go home." Sam said, "she was too scared to face 'em." He added, smiling at Dean.

"Found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy." Dean says, patting Sam on his chest, Sam laughed in pain, "yeah, I wish I could say the same for you." Sam says looking at Dean. "What were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face, you freak?" Sam asks, Dean turned to look at him.

"Hey. Saved your ass." Dean says. pointing at Sam. Dean bent down, inspecting his car. "And I'll tell you another thing; if you screwed up my car, I'll kill you." Dean stated, looking at Sam.

Dean drove, AC/DC's Highway To Hell was playing. Sam was looking at a map, trying to find where the coordinates lead to.

"Okay, here's where dad went. It's called Black Water Ridge, Colorado." Sam says, Dean nodded his head. "Sounds charming. How far?" Dean asked, glancing at the map.

"About 600 miles." Sam answered, "if we shag ass, we can make it by morning." Dean said hopefully, looking at Sam. Sam looked up from the map and then at Dean.

"Dean, I..." Sam says, "you're not going." Dean says, "the interview's in, like ten hours. I gotta be there." Sam stated, Dean sighs quietly, nodding his head. "Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home." Dean said, focusing back on the road.

After hours of driving, Dean parked in front of Sam's building. Sam got out, leaning against the open window. "You'll call me if you find him?" He asked, Dean nodded his head.

"Maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" Sam asks, smiling. "Yeah, all right." Dean replies, "bye, uncle Sammy." Sam turned to look at you, "bye, sweetheart." He says, smiling at you.

Sam stood up straight, walking towards his building. Dean started the car, "Sam." Dean says, looking out the window. Sam turned and looked at Dean, "you know, we made one hell of a team back there." Dean said, "yeah." Sam replied.

Dean looked away and started driving. Sam watched the car, sighing.

Dean drove around the building, wanting to check on Sam, he looked at you after parking the car again. "Stay here, alright?" Dean said, "okay." You say as Dean got out of the car and ran up towards Sam's apartment.

Dean kicked the door open, "Sam!" Dean yelled, running towards the bedroom. Dean saw Sam laying on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, while the room was on fire. Dean looked up, seeing Sam's girlfriend on the ceiling.

"Sam! Sam!" Dean yelled at him, "Jess!" Sam yells, Dean walked over to him and pulled him up from the bed, pushing Sam out the door. "No! No, Jess!" Sam yells over Dean's shoulder, looking at the ceiling.

"We gotta get out!" Dean yells, still pushing Sam out the door, while he kept yelling for his girlfriend.

Sam stood behind the impala, the trunk open, while firefighters put out the fire. Dean walked over to him.

Dean looked at Sam, "hey, are you okay?" He asked, Sam nodded his head, throwing a gun back into the trunk.

"We've got work to do." Sam said, closing the trunk and walked towards the passenger side. Dean got in and drove away.

You guys stayed there for a few days longer before Dean decided to check out the coordinates their dad left behind for him.

Tag List: @snobunns

#Supernatural Imagine #Supernatural Fanfiction #Dean Winchester X Daughter!Reader #Sam Winchester X Niece!Reader #Blind-Sided Part 1 #another part?? lmk pls #my fanfic writing

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years ago

Text

It Takes Me All the Way

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “flower shop au” square. The following idea hit me in the head a couple of days ago & I couldn’t let it go until the whole thing was written. Here’s my bingo card - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 11.5K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case?

Summary:

'For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

By the time Peter worked up the courage to make any sort of move, they were at the register, seconds away from a complete transaction. He was in too deep to let the spark between them go another time. Steeling himself for whatever might come, Peter took a deep breath and leapt. “Hey, before I go – would you like to go out with me sometime?"'

Or: the one where Tony's a florist and Peter kind of digs that.

Read on AO3 here.

----

After taking home the third, consecutive NCA Championship title, Peter craved a tame summer. Unlike the rest of his teammates, he had no dreams of furthering his cheerleading career by becoming a coach; while everyone else flocked to the NCA cheer champ coaching positions, Peter tried his hardest to create some distance between himself and the sport.

Of course, that was easier said than done when his very best friend was also a teammate. Since the day MJ pulled him off the gymnastics mat and thrust him not so gently into the world of cheer in seventh grade, Peter never looked back – not to gymnastics or the people he left behind. He didn’t naturally fit in with anyone, but with MJ by his side and an incredible amount of athleticism, high school passed by in a whirlwind of football games, competitions, and a rich education Peter clung to. Being smart was a way out of the conservative little town that would never accept the truth of who Peter truly was.

When Purdue became an option for the both of them, Peter immediately understood moving to Indiana was the next step in life’s adventure. It wasn’t the big city that he always imagined he’d escape to, but Peter couldn’t argue with a full ride academic scholarship and a spot earned on the cheer team. As a male with tumbling experience and a shocking amount of strength for his size, Peter didn’t have to wonder about his spot on the team – he’d been leading teams to competition wins for years. Stepping out of the narrow-minded world of Springfield, Missouri was the only thing that mattered; the ability to do what he wanted without worrying about where the money came from to do it – that was just a delightful bonus.

Despite the challenges of college athletics and a philosophy major, Peter managed to keep his close friendship with MJ. They’d been a stunting pair for ages and their similarities made it easy to not only be around each other but stay tight knit in their connection. Going through so many of the trials of growing up together, Peter didn’t know what life would be like without her. After coming out and receiving nothing but a hug and a shy “me too”, their bond was cemented – made permanent in a way that something shared tied one person to another.

Their undying friendship and ridiculous commitment to each other was how he found himself balls deep in wedding planning, instead of relaxing in the peace and quiet of his one-bedroom apartment, playing video games and reading all the books he didn’t get to crunch out during the busy school year. MJ didn’t even bother asking him to be her ‘man’ of honor – after popping the question to Darcy, she simply sent him a list of things to do and dove right in.

Between bachelorette parties, bridal showers, and the seemingly impossible hunt for the best bridesmaid’s dresses, Peter hadn’t spent more than a couple days of the break on his own. Though he loved the fuck out of MJ and her soon-to-be wife, he couldn’t wait for the wedding to come and go. A little peace and alone time was exactly what he needed.

Finally, after a week of long nights and last-minute errands, the big day was upon them. The beautiful ranch venue radiated with a rich sunshine, basking the place in a lucky sort of golden glow. Since he didn’t have to spend his entire morning trapped in a makeup chair, Peter got to enjoy the beautiful weather firsthand as he contributed to the set up and decorating. Aside from helping MJ get into the admittedly cool pant suit she planned to wear, Peter’s time was his own until an hour before the ceremony.

Grinning at the thought, Peter pulled out one of the reception hall chairs and sat down heavily. He relaxed into the comfortable wood, reaching up to run a hand through his formidable curls. They were sans gel at the moment; his fingers sailed through the silky strands with ease.

Peter wasn’t aware he closed his eyes until a loud clatter had them blinking open in surprise. Swiftly turning towards the noise, Peter stopped in his tracks at the sight in front of him.

A big gray vase was the source of the noise, there was no doubt about that the second Peter spotted it. What completely took his breath away, or maybe who, was the man holding said vase. Peter saw tanned arms that were toned to perfection right off the bat. It was obvious at first glance that the owner of those limbs worked outside with his hands frequently. The lithe muscles and glorious golden skin tone spoke more of manual work than physical exercise. With his eyes travelling up firm forearms and the swell of a built bicep, Peter noticed the man’s hair next. Tamed by a plain white dad hat, an abundance of unruly curls flipped under the edges of the brim and sides. Peter imagined a flowing head of dark brunette hair he could easily slip his fingers into the depths of.

As if the man knew Peter was staring, he turned towards Peter’s table, an intrigued look on his face. A face that, after taking in the rest of the stranger’s glorious beauty, didn’t seem fair. Well-kept facial hair outlined perfect lips pulled into a knowing smirk. Rich, honey-golden eyes were just visible under the brim of the man’s sweat-stained hat. They seemed to pierce Peter right in the chest, like their unblinking nature dug under his skin and saw everything he tried so desperately to hide. The feeling was unnerving yet so exhilarating all the same. Though he felt so very exposed, Peter wanted nothing more than to narrow the space and get to know the handsome stranger.

Luckily, his chance came a couple hours later.

To stop himself from shamelessly flirting, Peter hightailed it out of the reception hall the second he could, using a check up on MJ as a guise for his obvious escape. Most of his friends were exactly where he left them at the start of the morning – it was a marvel that anything got done when they all got together. After braving the makeup talk and putting out a few emotional fires, Peter’s reprieve came in the form of a man of honor errand.

With MJ’s credit card in hand, Peter made his way to the front of the building where the florist was waiting. He’d been so glad to get out of the bridal suite that he didn’t stop to think about the stranger and the beautiful floral arrangement that’d been in his hand or to make the connection between the two. For the second time that day, Peter tripped over himself when the man came into view. Now that an actual need to speak to him was in sight, Peter didn’t know if he could make his mouth work to take the chance.

Recognition was clear on the florist’s face – though they didn’t know one another, it was hard to forget the very long, very obvious stare Peter was caught in. Those utterly kissable lips were upturned, the pinch around the man’s eyes from the grin making him all the more attractive. Rolling his eyes at the thought (like he needed to be any more attractive), Peter tried to school his features and return the smile with one of his own.

“Hi! I’m Peter, MJ’s man of honor. She sent me to square up the bill for the flowers,” Peter said in greeting. As the space between them narrowed down, Peter nervously reached out, his free hand suddenly taking up the space between them.

A surprisingly soft hand slipped into his a moment later – the touch was firm and efficient, only lingering a second longer than usually appropriate. “Nice to meet you, Peter. Please let MJ know that I really enjoyed the challenge of the flower choices. Geraniums are hard to come by this late in the season.”

Pulling away, despite the desperate want to have the man’s hands all over him, Peter nodded in understanding – most of both MJ and Darcy’s choices were high maintenance and unique. The planning of every step along the way had been an absolute bear. “That’s MJ for you,” Peter agreed with a light chuckle. “We’ve been scrambling around the last week or so trying to get all the details right.”

There was a shared moment of silence where the two simply smiled at each other. The florist seemed just as lost as Peter, the joint look of discomfort and wonder more telling than any words ever could be. For Peter, each second that passed was a small gift he gluttonously got to unwrap until the magic was broken.

“It’s her big day, she should have what she wants,” Tony finally replied, the words and a red blush breaking the silence. “I like the unique stuff, anyway – keeps the job interesting.”

Without missing a beat, a paper invoice was thrust in his direction. “I took out the delivery fee from the total since I was in the area already.”

After that, it didn’t take more than a couple of minutes to complete the transaction – the florist worked swiftly, his fingers nimble and knowledgeable in every movement he made as he swiped MJ’s card and handed it quickly back to Peter. The brush of their fingers in the exchange seemed purposeful, though – especially with the smirk and red blush that followed.

Caught up in how brilliant the look was, Peter didn’t realize there was nothing keeping him there until the shuffling of feet brought the reality of the situation back with a vengeance. As much as he wanted to stay and chat, or ask for a number, or even a name, Peter knew the time wasn’t right. He already felt so caught up – actually having access to his preoccupation wouldn’t be good for his focus. It was MJ’s day; he owed it to her to keep his shit together and make every second of it the very best.

Looking up, Peter shot the other man a large grin before lifting a hand, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “I better get back,” Peter started awkwardly, “but thank you – for helping make MJ’s day so beautiful.”

With a nod, the florist pocketed his phone and took off towards the parking lot. Peter watched him walk away just long enough to catch the glance over work-firm shoulders. Hazel and brown met for a moment before Peter forced himself to walk away – a large part of him wanted to sprint across the black top to stop the gorgeous man from leaving. Something in the pit of his chest was pulsing with life; the feeling was so foreign that Peter pushed it down and quickly ran in the opposite direction, instead.

Peter got back to the bridal suite in a wonky haze – so much so that he didn’t even realize he walked through the door until MJ’s voice broke through his rampaging thoughts. “Did you get everything squared away with Tony?”

Turning towards her, Peter tilted his head, a crease in his brow appearing in his confusion. “Tony?” Peter questioned as he made his way over to the big table in the center of the room to deposit both the invoice and MJ’s credit card.

“Tony – the florist. I sent you to pay the bill. Please tell me you didn’t get lost along the way.” MJ shot him a knowing look, her hazel eyes blazing with affection. “He was a great help these last couple of months – matching all the colors would’ve been impossible without him.”

His brain halted for a second, the organ doing nothing but processing the fact that his handsome stranger now had a name. Recalling the beautiful face, Peter figured the name Tony fit the man pretty perfectly. With that knowledge, it was quickly becoming obvious that his focus was already shot – Tony with toned arms and a delectably deep voice already took up space there, just waiting to distract Peter at the worst possible time.

Like that moment, where MJ was staring at him with growing concern, waiting for a simple yes or no to her easily answerable question. Peter shot her an embarrassed grin when he got himself back under control. Sheepishly, he reached up to run a hand through his hair. “All is well. He told me to tell you he enjoyed the challenge. Oh, and he nixed the delivery fee – said he was already in the area.” He tried to sound cool as he spoke, to not give his interest away. Yet he knew almost immediately he wasn’t successful – Peter heard his own excitement as the words bounced around in his ears.

“So it’s like that,” MJ said, looking at him much more critically now.

“Like what?” Peter shot back, refusing to look her directly in the eye. She already caught the scent – the second he gave her the satisfaction of seeing the truth in his eyes, Peter would never hear the end of it. Regardless of the very important fact that Peter, despite wanting to more than ever, didn’t even pursue the obvious and very mutual interest.

Instead of pushing, MJ surprisingly let a knowing smile overtake her face.

“I see you Peter Parker.”

Luckily, the hustle and bustle of pre-wedding preparations and nerves that were inescapable, swept the subject right off the table a moment later. Peter happily helped MJ make her finishing touches in preparation for finally meeting her wife at the end of the aisle. Getting so swept up in it all, Peter allowed himself to forget the hazel eyed man for the rest of the evening. MJ and Darcy looked so happy – it was hard to see passed anything other than their beaming smiles and the bright future waiting for them.

----

The next few weeks passed by in a flash. Peter finally got some time to himself and reveled in it, taking advantage of every second of solitary freedom he could purge himself on before his final season began. Movies, books, and his favorite video games were the only thing Peter allowed himself to think about (and Tony, so many of his thoughts were about the gorgeous florist). He even went as far as to bar MJ and Darcy from the apartment when they got back from their honeymoon – it was the least they could do after running him ragged with errands and things over the previous few months. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the bombardment of newly wed grossness; it’d been some time since Peter felt the luscious caress of love against his heart and soul – and jealousy just didn’t look good on him.

When his self-imposed isolation came to an end, Peter begrudgingly got back into a suitable routine. Though cheer practice was different without MJ there, Peter easily sunk back into the drills and full body workouts that came after an entire summer off on their own. Hayley, their coach extraordinaire, pushed them hard in the beginning – it was the best way to filter out those who wouldn’t make it when the season really got started and competition prep took over all of their lives.

Once his muscles got used to the severe beating he took on a daily basis, Peter was more than ready for the year to start. Football games and the atmosphere that came with being a Boiler were a lot of fun; and with his decreased workload as a fifth-year senior, Peter planned to enjoy the easy-going nature of spirit and poms and comradery before the teeth came out and everyone’s battle armor settled into place. When competition season started, the team’s overall atmosphere and driving motivations changed.

Of course, just when Peter thought things were going just the way they should, karma came around to prove him wrong. After a long practice the week before the semester started, one of their flyers fell from a stunt, completely unaware of her contact with the ground’s effect until someone on the other side of the mat screamed. The sight, when Peter allowed himself to look, turned his stomach – he’d never seen a dislocated hip in person before and hoped to never do so again.

After the trauma of having the paramedics all over their turf, the team was given a couple of days off to recuperate. Peter and the rest of the squad planned to take advantage of the freedom by visiting Macy, who ended up having to have emergency surgery to save both her leg and her life. Though he knew a bouquet of flowers wouldn’t change the fact that she would never be able to cheer ever again, Peter figured it was a nice touch and planned to have one made before heading to the hospital.

Googling the closest florist, Peter was surprised to find a shop so near to campus. Many of the businesses surrounding Purdue were food joints or bars that were guaranteed to get a lot of steady business during the semester and over the summer. He wondered, just for a moment, how such a random store managed to survive the college population.

It took one look at the place to understand why the shop fit exactly where it was. Instead of the old lady feel he assumed he’d find, Peter stepped in front of a large windowed building with intricate flower arrangements filling the visible shelves. On the far side of the door was a mural of the Purdue P surrounded by all types of flora. The word Stark’s was camouflaged within the swarm of vines and greenery throughout the painting. It was well done and in the perfect, eye-catching spot.

A small bell over the door rang as Peter walked through it – at least one of the cliches in his mind was accurate. Grinning at the thought, Peter let his legs carry him further into the store, his head on a swivel to look at all the beautiful foliage placed strategically from one wall to the other. Though he knew nothing of plants, Peter understood the art of drawing attention – he participated in a sport that perfected it. From the placement to the intrigue, whoever owned the shop knew exactly what to do to draw a person in.

Peter stopped his exploration when a recognizable voice echoed throughout the space – “I’ll be right with you.” Upon hearing the timber and depth that haunted Peter every night since MJ’s wedding, he almost turned around and walked right back out of the store. He wasn’t equipped for the gorgeous man and his distracting smile and eyes and shapely ass.

Before he could make his feet move or even think, Tony and his inarguable gorgeousness walked in through the back door. His hands were covered in dirty gloves, a newly potted plant in the crook of his elbow. A denim apron covered a plain white t-shirt and black jeans that peaked out the bottom. At the sight of him, Peter had to force himself to keep his mouth closed and the pace of his heart under control – much like the last time he enjoyed the view, Peter wanted to bound across the distance and intimately get to know the other man.

Met with a smile when their eyes locked, Peter reminded himself to remain calm and smile back, to actually act like a human person with thoughts and the ability to actually articulate them. He came in here for a reason, walking out of the store with anything but the arrangement he wanted to bring to the hospital was unacceptable.

Tony, upon recognizing him, took the first step towards intelligible conversation.

“Peter, right? It’s nice to see you in here! How’d the wedding go?”

Blushing at the familiarity, Peter dipped his head and took a deep breath, hoping to collect himself enough to actually reply back. “Hi, yes. Peter. It’s nice to see you, too. I was surprised to see a flower shop in the middle of college central, but your place seems to fit in really nicely. No wonder MJ was pulled in,” Peter said in reply, getting the words out all at once to make sure they all saw the light of day. “The wedding was beautiful. Both brides are blissfully happy, and your floral arrangements were the topic of several conversations I had that night. You do good work, Tony.”

Peter’s heart stopped when Tony tilted his head back into a laugh a moment later. How did someone look so sexy doing something so base? No matter what happened, Peter knew he’d never understand such a thing. To cover up his reaction, Peter added his own laugh to the mix – the sounds harmonious in the empty shop.

“Yeah, I’m sure my flowers were a hot topic of conversation, especially with those beautiful women in the room. Thanks for the kind words, though,” Tony mumbled through a laugh. As he spoke, Tony reached up to brush an errant curl from his forehead – without the hat, the hair on Tony’s head looked unruly and all over the place, untamed and absolutely beautiful. The move left the smallest remnant of dirt on his skin, the black flecks of soil like little calling cards with Peter’s name on them. His fingers itched to reach up and brush them away. Tony’s next words shook him of the thought – “What brings you in today?”

“One of my teammates fell and injured herself pretty severely. We, as a team, decided to rub in the fact that she’ll never join us on the mat again by visiting her now that she’s out of the ICU. I figured some pretty flowers might soften the blow,” Peter explained, coloring at the blunt honesty that trickled from his mouth.

Tony looked intrigued, the other man completely unfazed by Peter’s word choice and candid nature. “Must be a dangerous sport if you guys are nursing career ending injuries.” He signaled for Peter to follow him with a swift flick of his hand.

“I’ve seen some pretty intense injuries in my long cheerleading career, for sure. People flying through the air, and all that. I wouldn’t call the sport in general dangerous, per say – I’d say the expectations we have to meet are what’s dangerous. The look, the difficulty of the stunts we make our bodies do – it’s demanding,” Peter remarked, following a couple steps behind Tony as they walked.

“Sounds misogynistic as hell.”

Laughing at the truth of Tony’s statement, Peter nodded enthusiastically. His heart felt warm from the idea of the random stranger in front of him understanding his struggles better than May and Ben ever could. Tony didn’t know him, and yet Peter couldn’t remember ever feeling so seen. “Oh, it is. The beauty standards are unbelievable and if you’re a male in the cheer world, forget it – you’re fodder for mockery and intense judgement. I fit the stereotype and even I can’t catch a break.”

“What’s the stereotype?” Tony asked with a soft tilt of his head and curiousness in his eyes.

They stopped suddenly then – the space between them was narrowed down to a couple of feet with an abundance of plants surrounding them on both sides. If he took a step or two forward, Peter wouldn’t have too much trouble reaching out and touching Tony’s beautifully tanned skin like he so desperately wanted to. It took too much effort to stop himself from doing exactly that. How exhausting.

Without waiting another beat or giving himself another moment to eye kissable lips, Peter uttered the answer with subtle breathlessness – “Gay. Flaming homosexual is usually what people attribute to the men of the cheer world.”

Color travelled up Tony’s cheeks, his lips quirking ever so slightly. He took his time answering, the man obviously thinking through his reply before blurting whatever he had to say into the universe. “Huh. That’s interesting, considering football players don’t go a play without touching each other on the ass.” Tony stopped for a second, making sure to catch Peter’s eye. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Peter answered immediately, the words coming out of his mouth without thought. “Its been my life since 7th grade.”

“I guess that’s all that matters, then,” Tony replied softly, a small, familiar smile on his lips. “Now back to your friend – what’s her favorite color?”

For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

For what it was worth, the look of surprise that crossed over Tony’s face was brief. It made Peter’s breath catch in anticipation – for the first time in their short acquaintance, Peter felt uncertain. The feeling quickly passed, however; Tony’s face split into a beaming smile, the earlier surprise so easily replaced with seemingly genuine happiness.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I close up shop around 6 – are you free tonight?” Tony’s cheeks were stained with a rapidly darkening, gorgeous blush, hazel eyes shining.

Peter couldn’t remember what the next ten minutes entailed, let alone that evening – yet, whatever it was, he’d happily reschedule. There wasn’t a single thing that would stop him from saying yes to whatever Tony suggested. “I am. How about I meet you out front at 6:30? I’ll call Tasha and grab us a table for 7.”

Tony nodded, reaching across the counter towards Peter’s phone. “That sounds good. I’ll give you my number in case something changes. I’ve got a greenhouse out back and tend to forget myself. I sometimes lose track of time.”

Completely taken by every new thing he learned about Tony, Peter opened the phone and pushed it in Tony’s direction without hesitation. He didn’t expect the older man to be so forward – then again, Peter wasn’t all that surprised, either; Tony owned, operated, and supplied a successful business – he had to know what he was doing to some extent.

Watching with a delirious sort of haze, Peter followed as Tony’s fingers enter his number, then hit the green button to call himself. A phone on the back counter buzzed a couple of times before Tony ended the call and slid Peter’s phone back to him. “See you later, Peter. Tell your friend I wish her a speedy recovery.”

Numb hands grabbed the arrangement off the counter – Peter raised it towards Tony in a mock solute. “Until tonight, then.” Peter muttered the words excitedly. “Bye, Tony.”

He forced himself to keep his head down in hopes of actually making it out of the store. Peter wanted to turn around and look goofily at Tony – now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated, there was nothing stopping his desire from slipping out. Since the wedding, Peter forced the thought of strong arms and bright eyes from his head, just to be haunted by Tony’s beauty when he closed his eyes and let sleep take hold. His subconscious wasn’t on board with suppressing his urges – the fact that karma played a role made the rightness he felt even more valid.

Tony wanted him too.

His visit with Macy and the team was an immediate drag to his mood – the mix of emotions of the people surrounding their friend attempting to express sympathy was exhausting. Every person in the room feared Macy’s position in the bed. Some handled the anxiety better than others. The one bright spot of the visit, of course, was Tony’s arrangement. MJ immediately recognized the man’s work and winked at him knowingly. Peter didn’t stop a grin from slipping across his face; in their silent means of communication, the look was answer enough.

MJ corned him in the parking lot everyone dispersed to an appropriate amount of time later. When the room started to get too cloying, Peter made his excuses, prompting everyone to follow suit. There was only so much sad he could take – especially when a potential light in his dark tunnel shone so bright, waiting for him just hours away. They stopped at the trunk of Peter’s car, MJ leaning against the bumper like always. “Peter, spill. I haven’t seen that goofy look on your face since high school. Did something happen with Tony?”

Snorting at MJ’s impeccable awareness, Peter shifted until he could wrap his arm around her. He leaned his head against the side of MJ’s, closing his eyes. “Your florist is the best-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I maturely held myself back at the wedding to be there with you in the moment and those karma points I banked were good to me today. I walked into Stark’s for some flowers for Macy and couldn’t bear to walk out without a chance to see him again.” Peter turned his head until he could press a kiss to her forehead. “We’re going out tonight.”

“I’m happy for you,” MJ said, her thin arms wrapping around him. “When I first met him, I thought you two might like each other. He’s older, a little weird, smart as hell – just your type.”

“I guess there’s a reason why you’re my best friend,” Peter quipped. “Seriously, though. Thank you – you always point me in the right direction. I really like him.”

MJ pulled back just enough to tap her forefinger against Peter’s nose – the move their sign of affection for years now. “Go get your man, Pete.”

----

To stop himself from pacing up and down the hall of his apartment, Peter went to the fitness center on campus – a hard workout with the weights was exactly what his body needed. Sweating and listening to a couple of playlists took Peter away from his thoughts of dinner later and into a mindset that let him just exist. It didn’t hurt that the pump in his arms looked amazing by the time he packed up and called it a day.

Timing it perfectly, Peter left himself an hour to get back to his apartment, shower, and decide on an outfit that didn’t shout desperate, but expressed his implicit interest, too. Not living too far from campus made it easy to fret about his clothes after a lengthy shower that took every ounce of Peter’s willpower to not masturbate anxiously. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to face the star of his fantasies head on after beating off to the thought of Tony’s tanned skin and gorgeous smile.

After a few restless passes through every piece in his closet, Peter took a large step back, attempting to clear his head. From what he already learned of the older man, Peter knew Tony looked flawless in anything – his style was basic, but the casual nature in which it was worn made the look stylish, anyway. Tasha’s restaurant wasn’t the fanciest place in the world and the pressing feeling of being comfortable in Tony’s presence made an outfit pop into Peter’s head after a couple of long breaths that helped to calm him down.

Peter slipped into his favorite dark wash jeans, smiling all the while – it seemed silly, the anxiety he danced with less than five minutes ago. He’d felt nothing but ease and excitement around Tony, getting himself prepared for a date with the man wasn’t as life and death as he let himself believe. Stressing over something that felt simple in every other way was a new feeling – Peter carried an abundance of confidence with him everywhere. The change made Peter believe whatever might happen with Tony was different and so much better than any other romantic dalliance he’d ever taken part in.

The outfit was finished with a couple small sprays of his favorite cologne – Peter only broke out the fancy stuff for special occasions. With a tug to his rolled shirt sleeve and the slightest adjustment of his collar, Peter took a deep breath and wandered across the room to stop in front of his mirror. His straight legged jeans were clasped at the waist with a black leather belt that cut Peter’s figure dramatically. Both muscular and trim, Peter went out of his way to make sure each attribute was highlighted appropriately. A white and blue stripped short sleeve button up wrapped around Peter’s firm biceps and tucked neatly into his waistband to highlight the narrowness of his hips.

Aside from the rogue curls Peter couldn’t tame, he felt good about the way he looked – the outfit and the confidence it made him feel would be a hit. Tony seemed to like the upfront and honest way he presented himself, there wasn’t any reason to change that now. Allowing himself one last look, Peter turned away from the mirror and made his last-minute preparations – he pocketed his wallet and keys and grabbed a jacket off the coat hook on his way out of the door.

It took less than five minutes to get to Tony’s shop – without the daily traffic on the road, the drive was easy. Pocketing that fact for another time, Peter climbed out of the car excitedly; for the first time in a while, Peter felt ready to date. Tony presented intrigue and want and a curiosity that Peter hoped to cling to for as long as possible. The simple fact that Peter already felt that way spoke volumes.

A door shutting brought Peter’s attention to the sidewalk in front of him. He expected to find Tony turned around to lock the front door of the shop, yet the older man was closing a door on the side of the building instead. Even more interested now, Peter started to head in that direction.

“I live in a huge loft above the shop,” Tony said with a knowing tone, answering Peter’s unspoken question without any sort of hesitation. “When I first bought the building, a storefront wasn’t what I initially had in mind. After I opened up the shop, it made the most sense.” Tony continued to speak as he closed the distance between them.

A soft pair of lips were pressed lightly against Peter’s cheek before he could think, let alone reply. Peter felt his cheeks and neck light up with a heated flush, his body temperature skyrocketing. Tony’s next words only added to the feeling – “You look amazing, Peter.”

Swallowing his awkwardness, Peter smiled in Tony’s direction, finally taking the man in front of him fully. Tony’s legs were encased in charcoal grey jeans that were rolled twice at the cuff. The edges sat nicely against a pair of black and white vans. The tanned arms Peter hadn’t been able to stop thinking about were on display – Tony’s short sleeve button up was perfectly tight against a trim chest and firm shoulders. Other than the stubble Peter figured Tony always had, the man’s cheeks were smooth – highlighting how gorgeous the florist truly was. It didn’t hurt that their fashion senses were similar, either; Peter wondered for a moment where Tony got the floral shirt currently driving him crazy.

“You’re stunning,” Peter eventually managed to say, his breathy words finally breaking his minutes long silence. “You’ve looked great in every way I’ve seen you – covered in dirt, sweaty and working, dressed to impress – it’s kind of not fair, Tony.” Peter let the truth of what he just said sit transparently on his face. They were passed the point of coyness and subtlety; Peter wanted Tony to know he was wanted, even though they hadn’t known each other long.

His bluntness seemed to do the trick – Tony grinned widely in his direction, avoiding direct eye contact with Peter in obvious hope of getting himself back under control. “Charmer,” Tony muttered, stepping a little closer to Peter to emphasis his point.

After opening the passenger side door like the gentleman he was, Peter settled behind the wheel and onto the main road. Tasha was a former teammate, a senior his freshman year, that escaped to Paris – only to make her way back to Indiana and use the knowledge she gained in one of the cooking capitals of the world. Over the years, Silver became a regular place for Peter and the team to spend their classier nights. The food was amazing, and Tasha’s unique style made the minimalism the restaurant was known for interesting and thought provoking. When he called to make the reservation, Tasha cooed in Peter’s ear while saving his favorite table for 7.

They made easy small talk during the drive over – Peter described the pre-season workouts he’d been trucking through while Tony regaled him with a story of his last customer of the day who tried to steal roses by stuffing them down her shirt. As he listened and absorbed, Peter realized Tony was funny and full to the brim of wit – he laughed freely, the sound so joyful, Peter couldn’t help but join in. They were still chatting as the hostess led them to their table and set large menus before them.

Their drink orders were taken almost immediately – the serving staff was familiar with Peter and must’ve been tipped off before they got there. A bottle of red wine was set on the table before either of them could delve back into their previous conversation. Peter poured them each a glass, then pointed at the menu – “Did anything catch your eye?”

“I thought I’d go with the steak frites. Out of all the dishes on this extensive menu, that one immediately came to your mind. Seems like as good a reason as any to give them a try,” Tony reasoned, lifting the wine to his lips as he spoke. “What about you?”

Peter’s cheeks were already starting to hurt from the giddy smile he couldn’t help – talking and joking and simply being with Tony felt so natural. He didn’t have to think to reply casually to whatever they were talking about. “I get them every time I’m here. When Tasha first opened this place, she’d just lay dishes on the table when we sat down. I stopped being her menu taster when she introduced me to the steak frites. I haven’t had anything else here since,” Peter admitted, his cheeks flaming once again.

“You’re one of those people, huh?” Tony shot back, grinning all the while.

“One of those people?”

Tony grinned a little wider, his eyes shining with affectionate enjoyment. Before he replied, the older man slipped his hand across the table, taking Peter’s fingers lightly. “Yeah, one of those people. Someone that gets the same dish at every Chinese or Italian place they go to, no matter the options.” His thumb trailed over the back of Peter’s hand. “You like what you like.”

Feeling a little called out, Peter ducked his head to stop anymore redness from overtaking his skin – he probably resembled a tomato already. It was crazy – to feel so happy being teased. “Okay, yeah – I’m one of those people. I’ll try that one dish anywhere, though.”

They traded a few barbs back and forth until they ordered, and their dishes were sat down in front of them. Without the threat of interruptions in the near future, Peter felt ready to broach some of the more personal topics – for the first time on a date, Peter genuinely wanted to listen and find out more about the person across from him.

“So, tell me more about yourself – who is Tony Stark when not covered in dirt or up to his elbows in beautiful flowers?” Peter cut into his steak as he spoke, hoping the relaxed way he asked the question would take a little tension off Tony’s obligation to answer. The last thing he wanted to do was make their time together feel like an interrogation.

Tony didn’t seem to mind, though – he looked up with a tilt of his head. “What do you want to know? I’m shockingly not covered in dirt a lot of my time throughout the day.”

“How did your love for flowers start? Did you study horticulture in college?” Peter decided to ask.

Smiling lightly, Tony shifted in his seat, preparing himself for story time. “I studied Botany and Plant Pathology, actually. I have a doctorate in Plant Genetics and Soil and Water Sciences. During my plant genetics studies, I did some time abroad that took me to every continent – seeing the wide range of flora that exists in this world was the first time I ever thought about making plants and flowers a daily part of my life to the extent they are now.” Tony stopped to meaningfully catch Peter’s eyes.

“I used to be a professor at Purdue – when the restrictions of the lab became too much, I ditched the academic world and opened up the shop. I’ve been elbows deep in beautiful flowers ever since.” Tony winked in his direction, repeating his words jokingly back to him. “What about you? You cheer and charm unsuspecting old men, I know that. What else do you get up to?”

“You’re the only unsuspecting older guy I want to be charming, don’t you worry,” Peter reassured Tony with a soft chuckle. “When I’m not sweeping you off your feet, I study Philosophy and play a stupid amount of video games. Cheer and all that comes with it takes up a lot of my time, though. Most of my college life has revolved around football games and competitions.”

“Sweeping me off my feet – jeez, Pete,” Tony mumbled. His cheeks were red and the smile he wore spoke of happiness and enjoyment. “I took a couple of Philosophy classes during my undergrad days. What do you plan to do with an entire degree with it?”

A laugh slipped from Peter’s mouth at Tony’s question – though many people asked him that very same thing, no one presented it quite like Tony did. “You’d be surprised by what you can do with a Philosophy degree,” Peter retorted. “I want to be a bioethicist. My minor is Public Health – when I put my cheer shoes away for good, I hope to get a master’s in Bioethics and finally get into the realm I want to be in.”

Tony tilted his head then, his eyes roaming over Peter curiously. “What made you want to get into that? I’m sure there aren’t a lot of young bucks walking into higher education with their sights set on changing the medical world like that.”

Sucking in a long breath, Peter let the question sit on the air for a moment. He swirled the last of his wine in the glass before drinking it. “My parents were in a car accident a couple of days before my 10th birthday. My dad passed away immediately, but my mom – she hung on for an extra couple of days. There was a lot of internal bleeding that they were worried about. In all that worry, they didn’t wait for scan results or blood work to come back before they attempted a new, exploratory surgery. She didn’t make it back out of the operating room.”

Peter paused for a moment, catching his breath. “I was old enough to know someone fucked up and when I looked into it later, I decided I never wanted to let someone feel like I did in a crisis like that. There’s got to be someone who reviews the evidence and makes the ethically just decision to save someone’s life. Why shouldn’t it be me?”

For a second, Peter thought he went a little bit too far – there was a tense moment of silence that felt heavy after revealing something so personal. Peter bit into his bottom lip, not letting himself look up to see whatever reaction existed on Tony’s face. Then, a soft touch brushed across the back of Peter’s hand, Tony’s calloused fingers wrapping around his own. A brief squeeze had Peter looking up, his breath catching at the awe that met him. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents, Pete. Mine aren’t around anymore, either. It’s kind of cliché to say that you saw the deeper meaning of something so tragic, but it’s true. You’re using your pain to make the world better. That’s good shit,” Tony said, his voice hinting at a note of finality – like nothing would change his mind of the thought.

His certainty made Peter feel light, the weight of his emotional burden finally lifting from him after so many years. What a difference it made, to be so easily understood.

That light and airy feeling followed Peter throughout the rest of the evening – he smiled widely as Tony talked about his greenhouse while they shared a small chocolate tart between them. For all that his physical attraction was worth, Peter was genuinely surprised to realize that he felt a personal connection to the florist, too. They led different lives but shared enough similarities to make the time spent together more than worth it. Peter liked Tony and from the looks and subtle touches Tony bestowed upon him all evening, Peter figured Tony might like him, too.

Tony proved that thought to be true when they pulled up in front of his place – “Do you want to come up? I had a really nice time tonight and don’t want it to end.” Tony’s words were said through a saucy smile, his intention more than clear in the look in his eyes.

Peter didn’t hesitate to give his answer – leaning forward, he gripped the side of Tony’s cheeks, using his hold as leverage to pull Tony a little closer. They met in the middle, their lips pressing together softly.

----

Things progressed pretty quickly from there. Tony led Peter up a small flight of stairs into an open room. As expected, plants and flowers were scattered around the place, covering all of the flat surfaces with adequate enough sunlight. A comfortable looking couch and kitchen table took up one corner of the room while a large, king-sized bed took up the rest of the free space of the room. There wasn’t much clutter and all of the things that Tony had, he more than likely used. It was simple and perfect, much like the person who resided there.

Tony didn’t let Peter take in the room for too long – before he could walk around and snoop, Tony’s arms were around Peter’s hips, pulling him close. Peter eagerly met Tony in the middle, their lips sealing together in the delicious slide of tongue and teeth and wet, panted breath. As the kisses deepened and their bodies moved closer to each other, Peter started to impatiently thumb at Tony’s buttons, his palms and fingers running over every inch of bare skin he revealed to the cold air. Tony followed suit; his movements much more impatient than Peter’s were. By the time they made it over to the bed, Tony was pulling down Peter’s pants and boxer briefs. He gladly joined Tony in nakedness before climbing onto the inviting mattress.

“Holy shit, this is comfortable,” Peter babbled absentmindedly, his limbs stretching as far as they could go.

“It’s the one thing I refuse to compromise on. I want to be comfortable when I partake in all the activities a bed is good for,” Tony replied as he climbed onto the bed and fit himself between Peter’s legs. “You’ll be even more impressed in the morning,”

For a while after that, there weren’t any words exchanged. Peter kept his mouth busy by pressing kisses into Tony’s neck and upper chest – Tony’s cologne was prominent, pulling Peter in the more he breathed the delicious smell in. Tony let Peter riddle his skin with marks and spit while he ran his hands all over Peter’s skin. Their hips were lined up and with every thrust Peter made up, Tony rolled his hips down until their cocks brushed delightfully. They were both so caught up in each other that nothing but touching and experiencing actually mattered.

It’d been so long for Peter that he found himself coming to a breathless crescendo fast. After a few minutes of passively letting Peter kiss him, Tony took control of things – his hips set the tempo and his hands and lips laid down the distraction. So overwhelmed from it all, Peter wasn’t aware of how close he was until his orgasm slammed into him out of nowhere. “Oh fuck, Tony! I’m – I’m going to come,” Peter panted out, his body thrumming with life and want and a desire he couldn’t hold back.

“Oh, Tony!” Peter practically screamed a moment later – Tony dirtily rolled his hips to toss him deliciously over the edge.

Panted breath filled the room as Peter rode the high of his orgasm. Tony placed tiny, teasing kisses against any part of Peter’s skin he could reach. Reaching down, Peter gripped the sides of Tony’s face until they were looking at each other – Tony met his eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. “How good is your turnaround time?”

Laughing, Peter leaned forward to give Tony a kiss. His cock was already starting to fill out again – having Tony so close set his body on fire. “Ten minutes at the max,” Peter mumbled after a moment of cataloging his heavy limbs and the desire that was rampaging through them.

“Good. Then you’ll have plenty of time to prep me before you fuck me.”

Lost in the words for a moment, Peter was immobile until Tony tapped his side with a cold lube bottle to get his attention. “You want me to fuck you?” Peter dumbly asked, his mind still trying to catch up.

“Yeah, Pete. I want to feel you inside of me. Your body is trim and fit – I can only imagine how good you’re going to fuck me,” Tony admitted without shame. He moved out of the splay of Peter’s thighs, climbing to his hands and knees, instead.

Not wanting to lose his chance, Peter launched himself into action. He ran his hands over the planes of Tony’s sides and back, tracing the small scars and tiny moles scattered across pale skin. His fingers were eager to categorize and map, but his impatience was too great. Tony pressed back into him, as if he too was starting to feel anxious for what was coming next.

Uncapping the lube, Peter drizzled a good amount onto two of his fingers, pausing just long enough to warm the slick to body temperature. When he felt ready, Peter pressed the tips of both his fingers to Tony’s eagerly waiting hole, tracing and circling the muscle to spread the lube and relax the man he was touching. Little by little, his first finger slipped in without much resistance. Tony bared down against him and let the digit slip all the way in until the webbing of Peter’s finger stopped him.

Now that the warm heat was wrapped around him, Peter wanted to take his time, letting Tony get used to the feeling while he explored and reached. Tony’s entire body jolted forward when Peter finally found that delicate nub.

“Shit – do that again!” Tony shouted; his voice laced with a breathy moan.

Unable to do anything but give into what they both wanted, Peter continued his ministrations, teasing Tony with one, two, and then three fingers. He scissored and pressed against the edge of Tony’s rim, loosening the muscle as he went. When he pressed inside, Peter caressed Tony’s insides, just barely pressing against his prostate until Tony was humping back with exaggerated impatience.

“I’m good, Pete. I’m good. Please, I want you,” Tony pleaded as he reached back and felt around for whatever lenght of Peter’s skin he could reach.

Completely hard once again, Peter was more than ready to feel Tony wrapped around him – after an easy orgasm already, Peter knew he’d be able to make their coupling worth it. Opening the tube of lube again, Peter drizzled more of it directly onto the length of his cock, and then a bit more around Tony’s rim. He stroked himself a couple of times, then shifted until the head of his cock could drag through the lube coating Tony’s skin.

He teased them both for a moment, tracing Tony’s rim with the wet head of his cock to ramp up that initial moment of anticipation. Peter kept up his antics until his own body couldn’t take it any longer – every part of him craved the warm embrace of Tony’s hole. With that thought in mind, Peter used one of his hands to grip Tony’s hip, using his hold to pull the other man back against him as he thrust forward. Breaching the muscle felt like coming home – he threw his head back with a rough groan; maybe he wouldn’t last as long as he initially thought.

“Tony, Tony, Tony – you feel fucking amazing,” Peter panted through clenched teeth, his body fighting hard against the need to thrust forward and take, take, take.

Tony reached back to grab at Peter’s hand on his hip to tangle their fingers together, instead. They shared a few breaths while Tony got used to the stretch of Peter within him, the mere connection between them radiating a different sort of heat while they waited.

Finally, Peter felt Tony relax around him enough for his hips to draw back and press forward without much effort. He kept his thrusts slow to start; his cock was throbbing from the realization that it was Tony below him – picking up the pace was a sure-fire way to end things a lot quicker than either of them wanted. When Tony started to thrust back against him, however, Peter lost more and more of his control. His hips snapped forward, their skin slapping together to make a loud sound that echoed around the room. With every thrust in, Tony moved with him – the tip of Peter’s cock was poised to press perfectly against Tony’s prostate every time.

Between the sounds dripping from Tony’s mouth and the delightful squeeze around his length, Peter was a few thrusts away from slipping over the edge once more. He tried to shift so he could wrap his fingers around Tony’s cock to get him there too, but he was met with a long stare over Tony’s shoulder – dark hazel eyes were on fire, pushing him to thrust harder and forget everything else. Tony’s body was taut, obviously strung out and seconds away from breaking apart. Finally understanding, Peter straightened out his chest, gripped Tony’s hips in both hands, and let himself go.

In the end, it was hard to decide who tumbled over the edge first. Tony shouted Peter’s name and tightened impossibly tight around him. The extra stimulus was the perfect thing to bring the heat in Peter’s belly to an overflowing boiling point. He tucked his head into the sweaty length of Tony’s neck and groaned, Tony’s name and fuck and unintelligible noises added to the symphony their joining created around the room.

Managing to just barely turn Tony as his body collapsed, Peter hit the mattress hard – his cock slipped out of the blissful heat, dragging a long groan from the depth of Peter’s chest. Being inside of Tony already felt like home; both his body and his heart were convinced. Wrapping his arm around Tony’s hip to compensate, Peter snuggled into the man’s sweaty back, keeping their bodies close.

“I – Tony. That was…” Peter started to mutter, his brain still not back online like the rest of him. Tony looked over his shoulder, affection and appreciation alive in the hazel of his eyes. They shared a heated stare as Tony pulled Peter’s hand more firmly across his chest – they didn’t need words in that moment, merely touching and existing in the same orbit was more than enough.

----

After that first passionate night, Peter spent almost all of his free time with Tony. With the shop being so close to campus, it was easy to lean on Tony’s close proximity and the joyful happiness Peter felt whenever they were together. The natural way their lives just sort of combined with each other proved how right they were for each other. Where others were wrapped up in the time Peter spent away from them, Tony enjoyed the fact that they led separate lives. Peter got to keep cheerleading and Tony at the same time without the two battling against each other. He didn’t know it before Tony came into his life, but that level of acceptance was everything Peter needed from another person to both excel and feel happiness.

Before Peter knew it, four months were behind them – though it hadn’t been that long, most of Peter’s things took up space in Tony’s apartment and every thought Peter had revolved around the life he was trying to create with the older man. He even took the time to learn more about Tony’s body of work – they spent many of their afternoons together in the backyard with Tony working the greenhouse while Peter practiced tumbling or simply watched his boyfriend in his element. Peter couldn’t recall another person making him feel so dumbfounded playing in the dirt the way Tony did – it wouldn’t matter what the man did, either; Peter would find something to be amazed about.

It was Tony that drew him in; his personality, thoughts, and the eager way he gave back to Peter spoke to a part of himself that he never knew existed.

Which was how he found himself nervously awaiting Tony’s arrival at the Purdue football stadium – aside from MJ and Darcy, Tony’s appearance at the football game would be the first time any of his friends met the older man. The fall, much like Peter, was a busy time of the year for Tony. Between weddings, showers, and parties, Tony’s weekends were filled to the brim. The homecoming game was the first game that the home schedule actually lined up with Tony’s off day. He couldn’t wait for Tony to watch him do the thing he loved in the uniform he felt proud to wear. Selfishly, he wanted to see that same sort of pride radiating from the person he’d fallen in love with.

The forty minutes they were trapped in the locker room before the game started felt like torture – his phone vibrated against his thigh a couple of minutes after they headed in from warm-ups. Tony was navigating the stadium’s security to get to the sideline spot Peter secured for him. When they walked back onto the field, Tony would be there eagerly waiting for him.

Finally, the performance lights flickered, and they were ushered to their usual entrance. The large black and gold flag he carried in his hands was lighter than usual – his excitement pumped through him, the dopamine of happiness causing a rush of energy. As the announcer pumped up the crowd, Peter caught the eyes of his teammates around him, sharing the hype he felt.

Running across the thick white lines never felt better – by the time he crossed center field, Peter caught sight of Tony in the corner. His boyfriend was clapping loudly, the honey-hazel of his eyes glued to Peter’s every move. The familiar feeling that Tony’s love created in him spread through Peter’s chest, showing itself off as a giant, beaming smile.

They didn’t get much of a chance to talk throughout the first half of the game – Peter’s stunt group was responsible for the spirit stuff for the first and second quarter. Instead, Peter sent Tony messages with his eyes, showing off his skills and tumbling talents whenever he could. It was almost better that way – Tony got to experience Peter in his element without any pressure to respond. The crowd going wild around them only added to the experience. For once, Peter got to put on the show.

When Peter got to wander off after the half-time performance, he was wrapped up in a bear-hug the second Tony could get his arms around him. Peter was covered in sweat and glitter and the annoying little turf beads that always stuck to his skin, but Tony didn’t seem to care. The older man picked him up, spinning him around excitedly. “Pete, you’re so talented. I about shit my pants when you back flipped for so long down the field, but damn – the skill you possess,” Tony gushed, tucking his face into Peter’s neck to calm himself down.

Not wanting to lose the upbeat energy, Peter cupped Tony’s cheeks in both of his hands. Tony leaned into the touch, tilting his head back to look at him. “I’m so happy you’re here,” Peter started, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss. “I’ve been on point all day because of you. I can feel you watching me – I want to be good for you.” The last words were whispered in his ear, the impact of them hitting Peter hard across his lower back as Tony wrapped him up and pulled him close.

“You’re the only thing I see,” Tony mumbled back, his tone all the sudden low and gravelly.

After leaning in to give Tony a heated kiss, Peter forced himself to pull back – he stepped out of Tony’s embrace completely. If he stayed there any longer, he wouldn’t make it back to the locker room at all. Smirking in Tony’s direction, Peter thrust his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll never leave. See you after?”

“I’ll meet you out front,” Tony said with a nod, his anxious hands reaching out to squeeze Peter’s hand once more. “Keep kicking ass, Pete.”

His role during the third and fourth quarter was a lot more passive than the first half of the game. Since the Boilers were up more than two touchdowns, a lot of the crowd left after the first few minutes of the third quarter – that meant the younger stunters and less experienced tumblers got to have some time on the field. To stop himself from straying over towards Tony, Peter put all of his effort into helping his littles. It didn’t work nearly as well as he figured it might, but he got through the rest of the game with minimal distraction.

Hayley’s speech was inspirational and moving like usual – they were done with football home games for the season and their success was obvious and highlighted in her moving words. The next couple of months of the season were the calm before the storm and they were all looking forward to the small break basketball games posed for them. Competition season started after the holidays and no rest would be spared. Though he always appreciated her words, Peter wished for them to quickly come to an end.

Before he even finished the thought, Hayley was circling them up, calling out the cheer that they all echoed back. As he shifted to move out of the circle, a firm grip stopped him. “I believe this is for you,” Hayley said, handing over a classic red rose.

“Hayley, who’s this from?” Peter asked, trying his best to tamper down the hope that maybe Tony was the stupidly romantic culprit.

With a knowing smile, Hayley shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, “He said you’d know.”

Pulling the rose to his chest, Peter ducked his nose to sniff at the crisp petals. It was de-thorned and freshly cut – Tony’s markers were all over the beautiful gesture. His cheeks were already sore from all the beaming he’d been doing all night, the face splitting smile only made it worse. Despite that, Peter wore it throughout his post-game routine and out the door where he ran directly into MJ.

“MJ! What are you doing here?” Peter threw his arms around her then, careful not to crush the flower still in his hand.

Thin arms returned the hug – MJ brought him tightly to her chest with a hard squeeze. It’d been a few weeks since they’d seen each other. Seeing her standing there, Peter realized it’d been too long.

“I couldn��t miss homecoming. I am an alumna after all,” MJ replied, her wide eyes never leaving him. Watching her closely, Peter felt a gasp leave his lips when she brought another classic red rose up, running the flower under her nose. “This needed delivering, too.”

Peter gripped the rose lightly, tucking it against the other one in his hand. Each of the petals were perfect and from the small lessons he got from Tony whenever they handled the clipped flowers, Peter knew what the giving of classic red roses meant. It only seemed right that Tony clued him in that way.

“Don’t fuck this up, Peter. I really like him, too,” MJ remarked as she moved in to press a soft kiss on his cheek. He kept her close for a moment, simply soaking in her presence. “He’s waiting for you out front. Go get your man, Pete.”

A soft laugh left his lips, MJ said that to him when she first learned about his date with Tony. It wasn’t lost on him how full circle everything felt. The rightness of being with Tony existed in every aspect of his life – each little sign made the delirious heat in his chest burn that much brighter.

Giving MJ one more squeeze, Peter broke away to quickly make his way towards the front of the stadium where Tony was waiting for him. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve such a sweet display of affection – Tony knew Peter appreciated the simple day to day life they were slowly creating with each other. At the same time, Peter’s heart was hammering in his chest at the thought that Tony deemed him worthy of such a gesture.

Peter found Tony leaning up against one of the large pillars just outside the exit doors. In the darkness, the honey color of his eye shone like melted pools of gold. Narrowing the distance between them became the only thing on Peter’s mind, he picked up his pace and practically threw himself in Tony’s arms.

The sigh along the length his neck made Peter tuck in a little tighter against Tony, his heart pounding with affection. He pulled back before the roses in his hand could get squished in the intensity of their embrace. Peter brought the flowers to his nose, keeping Tony’s eye as he did. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Peter sing-songed, grinning at the flush that spread over Tony’s cheeks with every word.

Tony nodded at him, tilting his head with a mischievous look of his own. “It looks like you’re missing one, though,” Tony remarked. The long stem in his hand was darker than the others, symbolizing love yet to be realized. Their fingers brushed as Peter took it, his brow quirked in intrigue.

“I love you, Pete. I’ve known since you walked through the door of my shop that you were special. Every second with you has made my life just a little bit better. I know it hasn’t been that long, but I’m mad about you. Over the fucking moon.” Tony walked into his space then, his hands cupping Peter’s cheeks.

Surging forward, Peter caught Tony’s lips in a passionate kiss, their noses bumping in the process. They sipped from each other’s mouths until the need to breath became pressing. Instead of pulling away, Peter leaned his forehead against Tony’s, closing his eyes to revel in the contentment that wrapped around them both. After a couple of shared breaths, Peter blinked to catch Tony’s eye. “I love you too, Tony,” Peter whispered back.

With a wide grin, Tony leaned in again, mumbling “I know” against Peter’s lips.

#starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #sfsummerbingo21 #bobbie writes #it takes me all the way #starker fic

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swiftlymoniquesblog · 4 years ago

Text

Only You: Dean x Reader (Requested)

Requested by: @littlemissmoxley: I was hoping for a Dean x Reader please? I’m fairly new to the fandom so I’ve only seen 3 seasons so far lol. I was hoping for a story where the reader feels like she is constantly compared to Cassie in Dean’s eyes even though she is a hunter too and she confides in Sam but Dean overhears the conversation and tries to convince the reader that he appreciates her for who she is and is sorry if he made her feel differently

A/N: Welcome to the family! We hope you enjoy your stay! I like comparing this fandom to the song Hotel California because like they say “you can check out any time you like but you can never leave!” lol don’t worry, that’s meant as a joke. It’s a very fun and very loving family so I hope you enjoy it!

Had to jump all the way back in season 1 for this and Dean gave me MAJOR feels throughout but totally worth it!

Also I don’t think this is my best work but I did my best

Warnings: Angst, swearing, angry!Dean (that’s a sexy warning) fluff, slight mention of sex but very light

Word Count: 2,752

Taglist requests are open!

Supernatural Masterlist| Masterlist of all Masterlists

You had been living and working with the Winchester Brothers for the past year after they called on you for a little help with a case. You knew their Dad sort of well at one point in time after he saved you from a rather sticky situation with a vengeful spirit. At the time, you were working late and had gotten off of work when the attack happened but it ended up working out where John came to your rescue and made sure you were okay until he moved on to his next case. However, before he left you, he called his sons and had them come and stay with you longer because you were injured. John Winchester was not a man who would stay behind for an extended period of time to help some civilian but what he failed to learn but Sam and Dean stuck around to learn, was you weren’t a civilian; you were a hunter too. When they got to your apartment that night, you threw them for a loop.

“So what did our Dad say attacked you?” Sam, the youngest brother you found out, asked you.

“He said some kind of mental subject high on meth or something? Some total bullshit if you ask me. I know I was attacked by a vengeful spirit,” you say nonchalantly.

Both brothers just gave you a bizarre look, like they were freaking out over how you knew what was going on. No one needed to lie to you because you were aware of what was happening and that was unusual to the brothers.

“Wait, our Dad told us you were a civilian?” The eldest brother, Dean, asked.

“Yes that’s what he told you but see boys, your Dad didn’t stick around me long enough to know the truth; I’m a hunter too. I guess it was pure luck your Dad was close by when I was attacked because I knew I was getting myself into some shady shit when I had to dig out some corpse to stop a track of killings in Tucson but I wasn’t expecting more than one spirit to be involved here,” you explain, smirking as the tension was drawn away from the brothers.

A big part of every hunter's existence was to keep the job a secret from civilians; no one usually believes you anyways. So always having to come with an excuse for what happened when civilians almost died is exhausting. Lucky for the Winchesters, they didn’t have to worry about lying with you. After staying with you for a few days to make sure nothing was still trying to come after you, it was Dean who decided to have you live with them. He insisted on it due to how severe your injuries were but it didn’t bother you; you liked his company. Not that he really took care of you, he was just concerned. It was Sam who really took the time to care for you and that was how you and he had gotten so close. In fact, you confided in Sam about everything that was going on in your life so when you started doubting your relationship a year later, you went to him.

“Hey Sam, I need your advice on something,” you asked, going to see him in the War Room. He was currently sitting at the Map table behind his laptop, looking intently at the screen in front of him.

“Hey (y/n) sure, what’s going on?” He asked, eyes leaving the screen and landing on you.

“Well it’s about my relationship,” you say and Sam grows more concerned.

“Dean’s not hurting you, is he?” He asks, jumping to one of the most extreme scenarios. You had started going out with Dean a few months after you

“No, no, of course not. He’s been nothing but a gentleman but something seems a bit off.”

You and Dean started dating a little while after you agreed to go with them on their hunts. It was actually really great and you liked him a lot, but lately, you began to question everything about your relationship.

“Off? Like how?” Sam asks, motioning for you to sit down across from him.

“Well, he uh, did something odd,” you say, a bit hesitant on sharing what happened.

“What did he do?” Sam pressed you.

“Well, uh, we were making out the other day and he said another girl's name,” you say, cheeks turning bright red but you knew you could trust Sam. He’s not the kind of guy to make fun of you or tease you that often; he was sweeter than that. Unlike his brother of course, who thrives off teasing you.

“Who’s name did he say?” Sam questioned.

“Cassie? I-I don’t know who she is or where that came from but it was weird. And when I confronted him about it, he blew me off and wouldn’t say anything about it. Not to mention, he won’t even come near me,” You explain everything that happened.

“Oh….shit,” Sam said, knowing exactly what was going on.

“Sam? Who-who’s Cassie?” You ask.

“Cassie was Dean’s, first love. He was crazy about her and we ran into her again about a year ago. She called him because her Dad was killed by some racist truck that was driven by another vengeful spirit,” Sam explained his brother’s odd behavior.

“Oh, well that explains a lot. He-he probably has been comparing me to her this whole time! And I think I’m failing,” you say, an expression of realization on your face.

“No (Y/N) that’s not…” Sam tried to call after you but you left the room and went out to the motel lobby.

“How can I help you?” The young girl behind the front desk asked you.

“Yes, I need to get a room. I’m not sure for how long yet but I can pay for one and I need one as far away from room 113 as possible,” You say, sliding the fake credit card over to the lady.

She quickly took down all your information and put it all through her computer, verifying you wanted a room farther away from Sam and Dean’s room, before she finalized a few things, sliding your card back to you and a room key, bidding you a ‘pleasant stay.’ You walked back to get your belongings from your shared room with the boys and before walking in the door, you scoped the surrounding area to ensure you wouldn’t run into either brother and when you were sure the coast was clear, you frantically start packing your bag, making sure to get in and get out as fast as possible. Zipping the bag, you scribble down a note to Dean, and set it on the table by the front door, and head out. Making your way to the opposite side of the property, you find your room, unlock it and let yourself into your new home for as long as you and the boys would be in town investigating.

Dean’s POV

“Hey (Y/N/N), Sam, where are you guys?” I called out for the others living in the room with me to see if someone could help me with these groceries and take out what I bought.

“Hey Dean, let me grab some of that for you,” Sam says, grabbing some of the bags out of my hands and placing them on one of the counters.

“Where’s (y/n)? She said she was getting hungry earlier and I got her favorite food,” I say, excited to surprise my girl.

“Um, she’s not here,” Sam says, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

“Well, where is she?” I ask.

“She left,” Sam kept his response short.

“Sam, I need a much better explanation than just that.”

“There’s a note for you on the table by the door,” he says, unloading the bags of groceries.

I walk back to the door and there is, in fact, a note with my name on the top.

Dean,

I think it’s best if we part ways for a while since...well you know what happened; the incident. I talked to Sam about it and he told me who she was. I get it, Cassie was your first love and after just seeing her recently and hooking up with her again, I’d probably say her name too.

I’m not mad, in fact, I understand. I just think it’s best we aren’t in a romantic relationship since you’re not over her. Makes me wonder if you’ve been comparing me to her this entire time and I believe I fell short. I did a search on her and she is stunning in every way and I simply am not.

I’ll stay to help you and Sam with the remainder of this case but afterward, I’ll head back home. I know this may seem surprising to you but ultimately, it'll be ideal for all involved.

-(Y/N)

“Son of a bitch!” I said, crumpling up the note and throwing it at the floor.

“What’s wrong, what did the note say?” Sam asked.

“She left me, Sam. We were making out the other day and I said Cassie instead of (y/n) and now she thinks I’m still hooked up on her and that I’ve been comparing her to Cassie this entire time!” I yell, throw punching the wall.

“Well, she couldn’t have gone too far, she hates being by herself,” he says, trying to add some comfort to the situation.

“I can’t believe she thinks I still give two shits about Cassie! I haven’t even thought about her in the last year except for that one time,” I say, feeling shitty about this whole thing. I should’ve been more careful and paid better attention to (y/n). She probably thinks I don’t even care about her at all since we’ve been so busy lately with this case.

“I gotta find her Sammy,” I say, feeling helpless about everything but I at least needed to get started finding her and explaining to her where I’m coming from.

“Let’s go up to the front desk and see if she left anywhere,” Sam suggests, making me remember why I’m lucky to have him. I wouldn’t have thought of that on my own.

We head up to the desk and are met with a girl who looks like she’s just fallen in love. Guessing she finds us attractive by the way her eyes travel up and down both of us.

“How can I help you, boys?” She asks, smirking at Sam.

“We’re looking for a girl, about yay high, (y/e/c), (y/h/c) she goes by the name (y/n/n)? Have you seen her anywhere?”

“Oh, she checked into another room,” the girl says and I sigh in relief; she’s still here.

“Great, what room is she in?” I ask.

“I can’t tell you that, Sir,” she says to me, rolling her eyes and popping a bubble with her gum.

“I’m Agent Ackles, this is my partner Agent Padalecki, (y/n/n) is our partner and we need to know her whereabouts as soon as possible. We believe she might be in danger,” I say, flashing my FBI badge, Sam following my lead, and the girl quickly jumps to the computer and pulls up your information.

“She checked into room 2 earlier this afternoon,” the girl says.

“Where is room 2?” Sam asks, knowing all the rooms we’ve seen have been in the hundreds.

“On the opposite side of the property; those are the single-digit rooms.”

“Thank you,” I say, folding the badge and putting it away.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Sam asks.

“Nah, I got this. I’m hoping to work this out with her and if we do well,” I say and smirk, Sam immediately knowing what I was implying.

“Right, well thanks for that. I’m going to head back to the room then and you just call if something doesn’t go as planned,” he says and heads back to our room.

I follow the directions the receptionist girl gave me and after a surprisingly long walk, I find room 2. That girl wasn’t kidding; it really was on the opposite side of the property. I go over to the door and raise my fist to knock, pausing just a moment to gather my thoughts before finally making contact with the door.

“Just a minute!” She calls from the other side of the door and then she goes quiet for a while. “What do you want, Dean?”

“Look (y/n) I got your note, can we talk about this please?” I say, almost pleading for her to open up.

“I don’t have anything more to say to you,” she says.

“But I have plenty! Come one (y/n/n) please, let me explain.” She opens the door and looks pissed off.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you love me,” I test, knowing we haven’t said that to each other yet.

“And how do you know that?” I can tell she was affected by the comment but she kept fighting me.

“Because I know you and if you didn’t care anymore, you would’ve left.”

“Fine,” she says and steps aside, allowing me into the room.

“Look, (y/n) I’m sorry okay? I don’t know what happened that day. Maybe I was thinking about her subconsciously but I promise you, I am crazy about you and only you.”

“But you told her about our work; she obviously means a lot to you,”

“Meant a lot to me, yes, but YOU are the one who means more to me than, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but more than Baby.”

Her head snapped over to look at me, she wasn’t expecting that one and neither was I.

“I mean more to you than your prized Baby?” She asks, cocking an eyebrow to see if there were any signs of deceit but I was sincere.

“Yes, sweetheart. You are my girl and I’m crazy about you. You’re the first person I want to see when I wake up in the morning and the last one I want to see before I fall asleep at night. I want to be there when you’re not feeling well so I can cuddle you and tickle you until you feel better again. I want to cook you meals and I want to be able to binge-watch Scooby-Doo with you. I want to play with your hair and see you fall asleep with your head in my lap because you’re so incredibly beautiful and I cannot believe you are mine. I am so sorry you thought you weren’t good enough for me or that I’ve been comparing you to Cassie this whole time because I haven’t been. I’ve been pinching myself every single day I see you and get to kiss you because I’m still thinking I’m going to wake up from a dream and it’ll all be gone. I hope that isn’t true and that this is all real. After all, I can’t imagine my life without you in it because I love you. That’s right, I love you (y/n) and I don’t care who knows it! I am so in love with you that I was going to go insane if I hadn’t told you,” I fully express all my feelings, in a non-Dean way.

She keeps quiet and just when I think the worst happens, she makes her way over to me and grabs my head, bringing my lips to hers in a kiss. Instinctively, I grab her hips, holding her tight, and push her against the nearest wall. She’s completely trapped as my lips make the kiss more passionate by traveling down to her neck and over the tops of her breasts that were kind of spilling over by her pajama tank top. Just before anything gets too heated, I pull away to make sure we were on the same page, that she was okay with whatever plans I had conjured in my head and when she didn’t seem to hesitate and she lifted her shirt over her head and threw it on the floor beside her, I knew she was all in. I’ll admit, I forgot what I was doing for a minute as I pictured her lying under me as I do some rather fun things to her, but she snaps me out of it and I go out to put a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door, slamming it and locking it behind me. Yep, she was my girl again.

Taglist: @calaofnoldor @thinkinghardhardlythinking @tloveswriting @akshi8278 @baby1967impala @deansmyapplepie @marvelfansworld @spnjediavenger

#dean winchester #dean #dean girls #dean girl #supernatural #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #requested #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural family #supernatural fandom

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hopekiedokie · 4 years ago

Text

Mall is Life | INTRO : She’s Broke, He’s Broke, We’re All Broke!

Summary: Your dad thinks it’s best for you to pay off the credit card that you just maxed out. Meaning, it’s time for you to finally get your very first job…at the mall. As a true blue spoiled daughter from a very rich family, what could possibly happen? Form a labour union and overthrow the oppressive government with 7 other underpaid and overworked guys??? Or maybe just form a bond with them and have the best time of your life?

Pairing: bts x reader

Genre: mall!au, lowkey a sitcom, fluff, eventual angst, and a whole lot of pure crack

Word count: 5.3k+

Notes: As I’m doing final rewrites for this, I overheard my co-teacher call one of our students a “crack” and I honestly have never related hard to a student. Anyways, transferring this from gdocs to tumblr took sooooo long. I literally aged 10 years. I didn’t think writing in this style would be such a pain so I really do hope you enjoy this! Keep safe and hang on while the world still seems like it’s on its way to destruction.

Posted on: 8th of Jan, 2021

— • masterlist | Character Guide | INTRO | next • —

Red

Red is all you see.

Your vision has been clouded by the colour red since the moment you stepped inside the mall.

Sale season is upon you and red tags are everywhere!

Buy one get one for a girlfriend sized “boyfriend t-shirt”, a free cookie if you get 7 drinks, 5% off on your next purchase from Kucci and… Gasp! 75% off for a light sabre handheld immersion blender???

Do you even cook or watch Star Trek or whatever it’s called? Heck no.

bUT IT’S MORE THAN HALF OFF and it looks cool so might as well get it.

Right?

You saunter off towards the sights of free or marked down signs to start making damages.

“Ehem.”

The sound of your best friend, Taehyung’s voice, freezes you in place and you feel like a kid caught in the act of stealing a candy.

Literally, you have both your hands in front of you with your mouth open and watering.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” His hands are placed on his hips, like a slightly inconvenienced Karen.

“Oh, uh...I was just, you know!? About to admire the general splendour!”

He was like, ya right sweetie.

“Shut up. This isn’t a Jane Austen book.”

Well, one can dream.

And lowkey, you were kinda expecting him to not get the reference.

…or even understand what you just said.

Damn.

You really need to give Taehyung some credit.

He is after all, your best friend and that is an achievement in itself.

“Focus, y/n. FOCUS. We’re here on a mission, don’t get distracted.”

Ugh, right.

Reality hit you again like a ton of bricks.

“And as if you can afford anything! Unless, you’re in for some service water.”

You scoff hard.

Though he isn’t lying.

See, the thing is, your family is rich.

Like rich 𝑹𝑰𝑪𝑯.

Like “rent a whole stadium for your dad’s morning run” rich

You, alone, though?

ʰᵉ ʰᵉ ʰᵉ

“Sorry, you’re absolutely right. We’re here for one thing only and that is to find a job! We’re not leaving until we get one.”

And that’s what you did for the next two hours

Job hunting

You might be wondering, “If we're so rich then why are we looking for a job?”

Well kids, let me tell you a quick story.

Here’s what happened

A week ago, you had probably the most embarrassing yet most eye opening experience of your life.

You were shopping

(like duh do you have anything else to do?)

And your credit card got…

Wait for it…

…………….

🚫DECLINED🚫

◉.◉

Like, that can happen????

Next thing you know, you’re on the phone with your dad and he is MAD

You don’t even know why he is so pressed about it.

Okay, so you maxed out one of his seemingly endless supply of credit cards.

BIG DEAL.

It’s not like he lost a bunch of money.

Maybe to a normal person, yeah…

BUT to you guys?

Come on! He can earn that money back in like two days.

Besides, he always goes on saying that he'd willingly give everything for you, his one and only princess.

bUT NOoOOoo! He has to teach you to be rEsPoNsIbLe with money! You need to be a 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏.

"What? You think I'm a money making machine here?"

Well, tbh he kinda is.

"You think money grows on trees?"

Well, technically, money is paper so...ya it kinda does.

"I don't slave around just so you could plunge yourself in all of your whims!"

Uh, actually.

You kinda do though if we refer back to your whole willingly-give-everything-to-you shtick.

So that wasn't real, huh?

ＡＬＬＭＥＮＤＯＩＳＬＩＥ.

smh

Taehyung, on the other hand...

Well, his mother’s old but rich sugar daddy just recently passed away and unfortunately all his money and prized possessions were inherited by his one and only beloved son.

All they got was a couple of stupid jewelry, which did allow them to pay for a new (less glamorous) apartment, but still

Eh.

What a complete disappointment.

11+ years of being a sugar baby, all for nothing.

So now it’s back to the slums for the both of them.

Sad reacs for a fallen warrior.

I’m talking about Tae’s mother, not the sugar daddy...

THOUGh rip for him. Uh,,,,

He’ll be missed? I guess???

(1 like of this post = 1 respect for him)

DW about his mother though. She doesn’t seem quite fazed by it.

“This is why if you find a rich old bastard, make sure he doesn’t have any kids. That or have an affair with their kid. Oh well, on to the next one.” She told you and Tae during the funeral.

It’s been three months since.

She’s currently working at a hair salon and also,,,,

Taehyung thinks she’s seeing someone again cause she’s been using her designated “𝑠𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔” parfum.

WHICH you still don’t know if you should be impressed or be concerned about.

Nonetheless, you respect the hustle of this woman. ✊✊✊✊

Unfortunately, her efforts are still not enough to satisfy their expensive needs so that brings us to the present situation.

Actually, it couldn’t have been more perfect though!

You and your best friend coincidentally just happen to be in the same dilemma.

Kind of

Well, not really

Plus, it’s not really the most pleasant circumstance bUT STILL

The point is, you’re in this together and that’s enough for the both of you.

:’)

“Ugh, this totally blows.” Taehyung says as you both sit on one of the food court booths.

“Which one, us not getting any jobs yet or the fact that we’re hanging at the food court?”

“Get used to it, princess. Honestly, you'll find that the food here isn't as disgusting as you think they are." He says as he fishes for his phone in his man purse.

"Well, at this rate, I won't be able to get used to it since I sTILL haven't found a job. Why are the good stores so demanding? Like, an intensive classroom and in-store training only to have a possibility to get hired??? To think that I'm a loyal Louie Button customer!"

(A/n: This is actually a real procedure for Louis Vuitton, at least in my own experience. But I only applied and never went through with the training cause I figured that it just ain't for me.)

You continue ranting your little heart out about how you could sue these stores for unfair treatment.

Taehyung, though, has long tuned you out and has pointed his full attention to his phone.

This is turning out to be a lot more disastrous than what he anticipated.

So he needs to phone a friend in.

Orrrrr a couple.

He's getting desperate, okay??

The entire spring collection was practically screaming out to him when they entered Kucci.

He's a 𝓚𝓾𝓬𝓬𝓲 𝓫𝓸𝔂 through and through.

He hasn't missed a single Kucci season collection in years.

IN YEARS, PEOPLE!

He can feel his right eye twitch at this blasphemy.

"I'm telling you! These stores are absolutely ungrateful-hEY! Are you even listening??"

"No. I thought that was obvious the second I whipped my phone out."

( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)

Rude

He didn't even try to deny it.

"You know, I really don't need you to be mean to me right now."

"Sorry y/n but this…" He lifts his phone up, "is more important right now."

What could possibly be more important than your current problem??

If you don't leave today with any form of productivity, you just might have to sell the entirety of your closet.

And we all know that ain't happening.

"By 'that', you mean?"

His phone vibrates a couple of times, indicating that he just received a bunch of messages.

He instantly opens them, disregarding you once again.

I-

Seriously, thIS bOy!

"Hello???? I'm still here and we're still hideously unemployed!"

He looks up to you with a smile that seems a tad bit too eerie.

Okay, this is somewhat alarming ngl.

"I called in some reinforcements."

Reinforcements... Huh?

What's that supposed to mean?

You stare at him with scrunched brows and mouth slightly agape.

And as if on cue, a male voice rings from behind you.

"Tae! We're here!"

"Jimin! Seokjin hyung!"

Ohhhhhhh

*Looks at the camera*

Them.

♫︎DUN DUN DUN♫︎

For everyone's information, Taehyung grew up a hair away from the poverty line.

He was in his preteen years when their family found success through his mother's sugar daddy.

He didn't grow up rich whICH there's NOthing wrong WiTh THAT.

A person's financial status does not define them.

Taehyung's friends, however, already have a collective definition in your head.

One word

༼ つ ◕◡◕ ༽つ MESS™

♫︎DUN DUN DUN♫︎

A hot mess you are so not willing to become a part of.

Tae keeps them away from you because he knows that they are not the type of people you would associate yourself with.

Which is why you've never met any of them.

...Until today.

♫︎DUN DUN DUN♫︎

Guess being besties with a broke Taehyung means it only makes sense that you finally meet them.

♫︎dUN dUn- ok that's enough of that.

"We got the Code 17 message. I can't believe I'll ever get that from you. This is history, man! We need to celebrate!" Someone says accompanied by what sounds like someone wiping a window.

You look at Taehyung with a very displeased look.

May god and every higher being out there give you strength.

He doesn't even look the slightest bit bothered by what might be one of the boldest crossovers to ever happen.

Also, "Code 17"??? Wth?

"What's wrong? You never ask to meet at the food court… And who's this with--oh." A different, softer voice talks this time.

"You guys remember my bestie, right? Y/n? Well, I think it's time you guys finally meet."

From behind you, Seokjin and Jimin share a slightly wary yet excited look.

Jimin, being the natural people lover that he is, instantly thinks that he's about to have another best friend.

From what he's heard from Taehyung, you two are slightly alike, being a total softie.

So don't be surprised if a montage of things like the two of you going on picnics at the mall garden or watching the premiere of the next Disney movie plays in his head.

Seokjin, on the other hand, being the woman lover that he is, instantly thinks that he's about to score big time.

He's heard a lot about you from Tae but the only thing that stuck (and pretty much the only thing that matters) is that you are HELLA rich.

$ ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 $

So are we even surprised that what he imagines is him breezing through the luxury section of the mall, with his personal butlers in tow, and having everyone swoon at him?

“Y/n,” Taehyung gives you a pointed look as if telling you to be nice. “Meet Seokjin hyung and Jimin, two of my other best friends.”

Alright, you heard that these people work here at the mall.

So you’re gonna have to suck it up if it means being stuck with them for god knows how long.

You just hope they have some level of bearableness.

(Oh and some form of acceptable fashion taste too please, thank you very much!)

As much as you're not in the mood to smile, you still plaster on the sweetest one you can muster and turn around to face the two----

(o.O)

oh oh oh oh ho ho ho ho

Hello

hELLO indeed.

One of them has a white button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black slim fit trousers, and a brown newsboy cap like a cherry on top.

He's also wearing a brown apron with a small name tag that says 𝓙𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓷.

The other guy's more casual with his baby pink t-shirt, french tucked into his black ripped skinny jeans.

Personally, you wouldn’t really call them amazing outfits…

bUT SWEET BABY JESUS ARE THEY DOING THINGS.

GREAT THINGS

(Tbh maybe it’s their handsome faces that do it for you)

"Hi, I'm Jimin! It's very nice to finally meet you."

He extends his hand and you take it in a heartbeat because my god that smile.

Wooooooooooo

Now, that's what greets you into heaven.

"Tae says a lot of good things about you and I think- oof."

Cute pink shirt guy (rudely) shoves him to the side.

Jimin almost topples to the ground and it makes you want to stand and check up on him.

The poor cutie.

For some reason, you feel like Taehyung and pink shirt guy get along well.

"AND I'M Seokjin!"

This time, Seokjin swiftly takes your hand without any warning which leaves you feeling flustered.

“Umm… Nice to meet you..?” You manage to politely croak out.

He gives your hand a kiss and then drops you a sultry wink.

Thank god you're sitting right now.

You'd be a lying fool to say that that didn't make your knees weak.

But ngl, that’s a face that definitely greets you into hell.

Like, no offense to his handsome face but you are sure there’s something completely devious going on underneath.

No one can change your mind on that.

"OKAY! Enough introductions, we’ll have plenty of time for that later... Where are the others??”

“Hoseok hyung said that he's with Jungkook and they're on their way to get Namjoon hyung." Jimin says as he fixes his hat that slightly slid off.

"Well, they better hurry!"

Taehyung DEFINITELY did not have any reasons to cut your introductions off.

He just did not like how you are practically drooling over Jimin and Seokjin.

He’s nOT JEALOUS OR ANYTHING

It’s just...

It’s not like you’ve never been close to any hot guys before.

Uh hello???

HE’S HOT

And you’re with him 24/7

Wait…

Do you even think he’s hot???

Okay now that’s a thought he never considered before.

Damn bro

Now Tae’s having an existential crisis…

anD hE’s dEfiniTEly NOT jEALous!!!

ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

"WE'RE HERE!"

All four of you direct your heads to the sound of a new voice and you start to think that Taehyung might actually be playing a joke on you.

Come on!

THREE 👏 MORE 👏 HOT 👏 GUYS 👏

???

This can't be real.

This is literal heaven!

Gasp!

Are.

You.

DEAD?!

Maybe you're right about Jimin being what greets you into heaven!

It all makes sense.

“Dude, we came as soon as we could. We even pulled Namjoon out of his rabbit hole.” The handsome one wearing a sports jersey says.

“This better be important. I didn’t even get to ask permission to take a break! I’m supposed to be stocking utensils right now.” The handsome one wearing an atrocious outfit of a bright blue shirt and a much brighter yellow pants chimes in.

The handsome one wearing loose fitting jeans, a plaid button up and a black t-shirt underneath just stayed at the sidelines not saying anything.

Out of all of them, you think he’s the most stylish one.

Your eyes meet while you are assessing his outfit but he instantly looks away.

A noticeable blush blooms on his cheeks and you almost swoon.

Awww he’s extra cute.

“Yeah, cause organising cutlery is more important than a friend in a literal crisis.” Taehyung says in a sarcastic tone.

“So what are we doing here?”

“What is this ‘crisis’ you are referring to?”

“Yo, who is she?”

Namjoon, Jin, and handsome jersey boy all talk at the same time.

Ugh you need a massage.

Being surrounded by these broke handsome men is making you lightheaded.

“This is Y/n. You know, my other best friend.”

“Oh, your money buddy.” Handsome jersey boy butts in.

Uh EXCUSE YOU, WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?

You scoff hard and loud.

Taehyung clears his throat and you thought he was going to make a comment defending you or something.

Oh honey, you are wrong.

Because for the nth time today, he just brushes you off.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Anyways, Guys, meet Y/n. Y/n, this is Hoseok hyung, Namjoon hyung, and Jungkook.”

You didn't think it'd be possible but for the first time ever, you so badly want to rip someone's hair out.

And not just someone, it's Taehyung.

Normally, a sassy, moody, rude boy Taehyung doesn’t affect you at all.

But then again, his negative vibes were never really directed to you.

And given the current circumstance, you’re also not in the best mood as well.

So you aren't as inviting as you usually are when you shook hands with the three boys.

Somehow, even their overflowing handsomeness did not do anything for you now.

Your presence, however, did something to the three boys.

AND I MEAN A LOT.

Confused, attracted, intimidated, confused, in awe, slightly scared, nervous, confused, hungry…

What? Hoseok hasn’t had lunch and coincidentally, he started feeling his tummy rumble when he looked at you.

…..

Fun fact: Hoseok is DEFINITELY NOT A CANNIBAL NOR HE EVER PLANS ON BEING ONE.

If ever you were thinking...

“Okay, so here’s the sitch.” Tae starts to explain your situation and everyone listens to him intently.

Little did you all know, the final member of the friend group just arrived at the food court and is now walking towards where you all are.

It wasn’t difficult to spot your group with Namjoon’s obnoxiously brightly coloured towering self and the few girls hanging around.

Probably Jimin’s fanclub.

“And so, here we are!” Tae finishes, keeping everyone updated.

"Wow, so you two are looking for an actual job? Like, here? At the mall??" A very baffled Seokjin asks.

Tae rolls his eyes.

"Yes. Is that really hard to believe?"

"Actually, yes. It is."

Another male voice is heard coming from someplace.

“Yoongi hyung!”

Oh great! Another one.

Surely, this guy’s not that interesting.

I mean, what are the fricking odds that he’s also an immaculate being??

You turn around and your mouth drops to the floor.

No no no no no.

No way!

Another freaking gOOD LOOKING GUY HAS WALKED UP TO YOUR GROUP.

Okay, this is getting unbelievable now.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Like, where and how on earth did Taehyung manage to get and round up SIX insanely good looking guys??

What is this? Are you on The Bachelorette??

Wait no

It's like Oprah!

And instead of cars, she's giving away handsome men

You get a hot Asian man, you get a hot Asian man, you all get a hot Asian man!

OR MAYBE

Are you on MTV Punk'd?????

Statistically speaking, a hot guy can have two or maybe three equally hot best friends

BUT SIX???

ARE YOU KIDDING?

Is Taehyung like Thanos? Collecting the six infinity stones?

Thanos? lol.

If anything, he's more like Henry VIII with his six wives.

“So you guys didn’t even wait for me, huh?”

Yoongi, oh so casually, just takes a seat beside you

Without even giving you a single glance or whatnot.

“I didn’t know you'd be here at the mall today?”

“Yeah, what are you doing here?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “It’s a free country, I can be here whenever I want to be.”

Well, can’t argue with that logic.

The mall is practically your second home at this point.

“... Also… uTunes is hiring and uh… I’m applying...”

You don’t understand why but everyone else looks either shocked or annoyed at Yoongi’s announcement...

Are you missing something here?

“Man, you need to give it up! That place can suck it.”

Yoongi gives Seokjin one of the scariest glare you’ve ever seen.

It could rival against your dad’s famous death glares that he gives to his incompetent subordinates.

Namjoon shakes his head disapprovingly, “You’re applying there again?? I can’t believe it.”

Yes, again.

This is going to be the seventh time he’s applying at uTunes Records, the most popular music shop there is.

So many people flock to it even though we’re already in the digital age.

But he doesn’t question it.

All he cares about is getting a job there because the employees get to play their own music in the store.

Do you know how much of a popularity boost that is?

A CRAP TON.

On top of that, one of the employees gets a chance to get signed by a record label every year.

And if you're not awarded by that chance, you can still meet agents and get signed through their many parties.

Because of that, so many people also apply for a job there.

But they unfortunately have such high standards which is why even after three years, he still hasn’t passed their vibe check.

"Listen, seven's a lucky number. I have great feelings about this one. Besides, I've built up a strong résumé. Winning one of uTunes' own rookie dj contests must mean something, right? They can't not take me!"

Wow.

You've only known Yoongi for a solid three minutes, but you can already tell that he's quite passionate about this.

"Hyung, all we're saying is that maybe you should consider doing something else? You could do so much more than run after that store." Jimin says and pats Yoongi's hand a couple of times.

"All of you perfectly know getting a job there could quite possibly set my music career!"

"Is that really it? Or is it because of a certain Daphne??" Seokjin teases him.

The rest just mutters an "ooh" or an "aah".

You seem to have been turned into an accessory.

You so cannot relate to anything they've talked about since Yoongi came.

It's like you're at one of your dad's social gatherings and all you can do is smile and nod.

"ANYWAY," Yoongi interjects in their teasing. "So Tae, you're also looking for a job?"

Jeez FINALLY.

Something you can talk about that involves you.

It felt like you were just back home watching some random show that doesn't require your input.

Taehyung gives an overly dramatic heavy sigh.

"Unfortunately, yes. Y/n and I both need one badly. But all the stores had been rejecting us left and right. Like, the audacity!" Taehyung rants all over again.

Jimin, listens to him intently as if he hasn't heard all of this before.

Seokjin seems to have been entertaining the surrounding ladies for a while now.

[by giving some ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ and some (•̀ᴗ-)☞ ]

Across the table, Namjoon complains to Hoseok about getting in trouble with his boss.

Jungkook, well, he's just staring at the beautiful pizza this kid next to you guys is eating. (Someone's hungry too, okay?)

While Yoongi just openly stares at you.

Welp.

What the frick are you supposed to do now?

Is Taehyung or anyone going to properly introduce you two?

No???

Okay fine.

Seems like you're gonna have to get used to doing things on your own.

You smile at him and timidly hold your hand out.

"Uh hi. I'm Y/n. I don't know if Tae's ever mentioned me to you before but--"

"Oh, trust me. He's mentioned you plenty. He actually never shuts up about you."

ʰᵉʰ

You don't really know if he was stating that as a fact or if he's trying to be mean…

"Oh ha ha… That must be really annoying then."

"Yeah, it is actually."

Your small polite chuckle died down your throat.

Wow and you thought Taehyung can be rude.

hE'S STILL JUST STARING.

"Uh…" You finally lowered your hand that he obviously isn't going to shake.

That is definitely going in your top 10 most embarrassing moments ever.

God, can someone get you away from this guy?

What's his problem?

"SO, can any one of you help us? Like, any tips or something?" Tae concludes his really long and repetitive rant.

Everyone's eyes FINALLY focuses on Tae again.

Seokjin snorts loudly.

Eww.

He opens his mouth to say something but Tae immediately holds his hand up to stop him.

"Anyone except you hyung. I don't think you're classified."

Everyone laughs to that and again,

ARE YOU MISSING OUT ON SOMETHING HERE?

Seokjin raises one finger like he's trying to make a point. "If anyone is classified to give tips on how to get accepted, it's me!"

"Yeah, just not on how to last on one." Namjoon loudly whispers to Tae.

"HEY I HEARD THAT!"

Ohhh….

So,

Does he constantly get fired from a job?

Well, that's just sad.

Hopefully you don't end up like him.

😳

"Actually," Hoseok starts, "how do you end up landing on so many jobs? Like, don't they know your reputation?"

And that's your cue to finally insert yourself in the conversation.

"Uh, what reputation?"

"Sweetheart, you don't really want to know! It's not that big of a deal." Seokjin quickly steers you away from the topic but the other guys didn't allow it to happen.

"Oh, you know. Just that, he's known to be the "job eater" here. Cause he pretty much eats a job and moves on from it in a flash." Namjoon graciously fills you in.

So you were right.

That's kind of impressive though…

But a huge waste.

"Still! It makes me very much qualified to give the unemployed a tip!"

"Save it hyung, you might need it for your next job once you get fired from Uncle Aang's."

Seokjin gives everyone a sheepish smile.

What's that about?

It almost looks as if he…

"YOU GOT FIRED ALREADY?!"

"Oh you bet I did."

To be fair, how could he not stop himself from eating the free samples? Those pretzels are literal drugs.

"You just got that job four days ago. I can't believe it!"

"I can believe it." Yoongi says out loud.

Can't he say anything nice?

"Whatever! Point is, these stores still hire me no matter what."

"You know what, that is a good point." Taehyung mutters, slowly turning convinced by Seokjin.

Namjoon groans. "Are you for real Tae? If you want some job advice, maybe ask one from us who has only had one permanent job all throughout."

"Guys, let's give Seokjin hyung a chance!" Jimin, ever the sweet positive boy, suggests.

"Of course you would say that."

Not wanting to fade into nothingness, you insert yourself again in the conversation.

"I want to hear what he has to say."

Once those words left your mouth, you instantly regret it.

A.) Seokjin gives you another wink and gives you a flying kiss that has you weak in the knees again- I MEAN WHAT. I SAID NOTHING.

And B.) Yoongi is clearly not a fan of you sharing your opinions with the group.

Despite the obvious protests of Namjoon, Seokjin still gives his number one "professional" advice

And that is to have a perfectly 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 résumé.

"A high quality résumé? YOU? What the fuck are you talking about?" Yoongi says, slightly amused and slightly tired of the older guy's shenanigans.

"Don't believe me? Fine. But I'm telling you, it's all here on paper!" Seokjin takes out a folder from his backpack and waves it around.

Namjoon immediately snatches it from him

"5 pages long?? Are you for real?”

Seokjin hums and watches smugly with a cocky grin as the guys read through his résumé.

“Hang on, since when did you do balloon modelling?”

"I don't."

Hoseok gasps. "But bro, isn't that lying?"

"Yeah, duh! How else are these people gonna hire you? You have to sell them what they're looking for."

"What if they ask you to use these skills that you clearly don't have?"

"Then you're just gonna have to fake it till you make it, baby!"

Huh

No wonder he doesn't last long on a single job.

"And how's that working out for you?" Yoongi presses on.

"Well at least I get hired, Mr. 7th Time's the Charm!"

Yoongi is like ᶠⁱᵗᵉ ᵐᵉ ⁱ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉˢⁱᵗᵃᵗᵉ ᵇⁱᵗᶜʰ (ง'̀-'́)ง

"That's not really the point of having a job, but I guess, whatever floats your boat, dude!" Hoseok finally sides with Seokjin.

"So everyone is looking for a job then?" Taehyung realizes, "this is so cool if all of us get hired! We'll all face the real world together."

"All of us except Jungkook though."

Who?

Oh that extra cute shy boy.

You forgot he's here.

Boy really hasn't said a word at all.

"Did ya hear that? All of us are getting jobs!"

"You should get one too!"

"That would be so cool!"

"So what do you say? What are your plans Kook?"

"Guys, don't pressure the kid!"

The guys talk simultaneously, ultimately kind of pressuring Jungkook to say something before he even thinks about it.

The table falls silent and everyone eyes Jungkook.

The guys are like ( ･ิ ͜ʖ ･ิ) and ( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)

Jungkook is like (ʘ ͟ʖ ʘ)

Then the guys are like (≖ ͜ʖ≖)

So jungkook is like (¬‿¬ )

In the end, they are all like

(☞°ヮ°)☞ ☜(°ヮ°☜)

And through it all, you are just ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

What the heck is going on?

"Yeah, why not?" Jungkook simply concludes and the guys make various celebrating noises.

Gasp!

He can talk???

"Okay, everyone calm down! Let's wait until after everyone gets hired before we celebrate." Namjoon scolds everyone.

"Well that might take a while considering Y/n and I can't find one!"

Namjoon places a comforting hand on Tae's shoulder. "Oh relax, there's like ten thousand stores in the mall!"

"Actually, there are only 613 stores in the entire mall." Hoseok points out a matter of factly.

You all look at him dumbfoundedly.

Aaaand he just stares back at all of you.

Is this some kind of trivia that you need to know if you work around here?

Are you gonna have to memorise a lot of facts about the mall???

Oh, you don't like that.

Seokjin was the first one to react.

"Dude?? What the hell?!"

"I got bored once while I was on a break and counted."

Huh.

Makes sense.

Yeah, sure.

Why not?

Why wouldn't you just go and count the total number of stores out of boredom???

…

THAT WAS A SARCASTIC REMARK IF YOU DIDN'T GET IT.

"Even if there are 600 stores here, there are only like, 20 good stores that exist!" Tae remarks

You want to say you can't agree more but you stop yourself because you don't think you can handle another cold stare from Yoongi.

"Are you perhaps pertaining to the high end stores?" Namjoon muses.

"Yeah. What else?"

Jimin's eyes widen in shock. "Hold on. So you two have only been looking at that small section of the entire mall?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Yoongi chuckles condescendingly.

"Bros, you know that saying… 'Beggars can't be choosers'?" Hoseok tries to enlighten you two.

You and Tae look at each other.

What an epiphany.

A very disgusting yet important epiphany.

"Are you… Are you guys saying that… We need to find a job… Outside of that section??"

They all nod.

Ughhhhhhh

You and Tae make an annoyed sound.

"Welcome to the real world, peasants!" Seokjin warmly tells you.

Could things get any worse?

"Hey, at least we'll all be here together!"

Ha ha

Great . Awesome. Wow.

"Well, on that note, I really need to get back to work. Lady and gentlemen, may the odds be ever in your favour. Good luck!"

Namjoon stands and walks away.

One by one, the other working guys went back to work as well, leaving you unemployed slackers.

Hey they didn't even give any actual help!

Wasn't that the reason why Tae called for a… What did they call it?

Code something something.

Oh whatever!

Anyways,

So to summarize things

You might end up working at an awful low end store.

And you're unwillingly stuck with the wrong set of people.

One of them is a total flirt and an actual pain to society.

Another one might possibly hate you for unknown reasons.

This tall dude seems to be really uptight.

Then there's this guy that seems really weird.

The other one, well… He's cute and doesn't really have any negative points yet BUT you're sure something's wrong with him.

And the last one literally said one thing during the entire time!

Oh, you've got a really really long way before you can pay your dad.

Good luck to you, indeed.

98 notes · View notes

likecastle · 4 years ago

Text

In which Jaskier cuts Geralt’s hair

Well, folks, I was inspired by Geralt’s slightly wavier wig in the new S2 promo photos to write a story in which Geralt finally gets some proper haircare and it brings out his natural curl pattern. This somehow turned into 7,000 words of Geralt musing about his own terrible self-image and Jaskier tenderly negotiating a haircut.

Credit for Geralt’s 3-in-1 shower products goes to @exrayspex, with my thanks for their enthusiasm about this exceedingly soft concept!

I’d like to put this up on AO3 at some point, but the title has me stumped, so if anyone has a suggestion, please let me know.

“When are you going to let me cut your hair?”

Geralt snorts, incredulous. “I’m not.”

Jaskier fixes Geralt with a pleading look. The streaks of peacock blue Jaskier recently added to his hair really bring out the color of his eyes—all the better to beguile him with. “Come on, Geralt, don’t you trust me?”

“No,” Geralt says, trying without much luck to keep his attention on the TV screen. Suddenly he has to fight the urge to tuck a stray strand of his hair behind his ear.

“It would look so nice if you just took proper care of it,” Jaskier wheedles.

“It doesn’t need to look nice.” Geralt can feel his shoulders creeping up towards his ears, and he wishes Jaskier would look at something else besides him. “It’s just hair.”

“But—”

Geralt jabs the remote in the direction of the TV. “Are you going to let me watch this or do you want to go home?”

“Fine, you grouch,” Jaskier says, returning his attention to the screen.

It must not hold Jaskier’s interest, though, because he can feel Jaskier’s gaze returning to him periodically throughout the rest of the film—which in itself isn’t all that unusual, since Jaskier watches even movies he really likes with one eye on his phone. Except that when Geralt meets his gaze, Jaskier’s looking at him with a wistful, almost sad expression. Geralt doesn’t let himself wonder what might be on his mind.

Later, Jaskier yawns wide and says he’d better be going if he doesn’t want to fall asleep at the wheel on the way home. It’s just a dramatic excuse not to help clean up, Geralt knows, but he can’t help smiling at the way Jaskier rubs at his eyes, smudging the faded remnants of his eyeliner. Geralt walks him to the door, and for a moment Jaskier just stands there on the porch, looking at Geralt thoughtfully.

When his hand reaches up, Geralt freezes. He thinks for a moment that Jaskier’s about to cup his cheek and drawn him down—but he just takes a strand of frizzy hair that’s come loose from Geralt’s ponytail and twists it around a finger.

“I thought so,” Jaskier says, with a private little smile.

Geralt’s sure Jaskier must be able to hear the way his breath’s gotten jammed up in his chest. “Thought—?”

“Nothing.” Jaskier digs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and starts down the front steps. “G’night, Geralt.”

As Geralt tidies away their takeout containers and empty beer bottles, his mind keeps wandering back to Jaskier’s offer. He knows Jaskier’s just trying to be nice—or trying to fix him, the way he tried to “liven up” Geralt’s wardrobe early in their friendship and tried to set him up on dates after he split up with Yen last year. But the options he tries to push on Geralt—the overpriced bomber jacket Jaskier bought him that’s still sitting at the back of his closet, the gorgeous chestnut-haired nurse Jaskier introduced him to—always seem to reflect more about Jaskier’s idea of Geralt than they do about Geralt himself.

Because the thing is, he’s not brash and stylish like Jaskier, who’s all eccentric colors combinations and flashing rings that accentuate his expressive hands. Jaskier knows how to construct an outfit that tells the world exactly who he is at any given moment, from his ever-evolving hairstyles to his painstakingly-sourced vintage clothes. Geralt, on the other hand, is just—nothing, an absence of style. His idea of a good outfit is one he can forget he’s wearing, one that will make everyone else forget him when he’s wearing it. His relationship to his appearance is as estranged as his relationship to his ex-wife. Being in his body, making use of it when he’s lifting weights or hammering a nail or swinging Ciri up in his arms—that makes sense to him. But thinking about his body is the opposite of that. He doesn’t like being looked at, even by himself. He avoids the mirror on his medicine cabinet as much as he can and starts feeling close and queasy if he so much as looks at himself in a dressing room mirror.

Before he goes to bed that night, he shakes his hair out from his ponytail and makes himself take a long, hard look in the mirror. All he sees is the sallow, tired-eyed face of a man who can hardly remember how to smile anymore, a face scarred from carelessness and creased from years of worry. His dull white hair, which Jaskier had twisted so carefully around his finger, is somehow greasy and dried out at the same time, limp around his face but bristly at the ends. He can’t find any sign of the potential Jaskier seems to think is there. He suspects it was never there in the first place—a mirage visible only to well-intentioned flatterers like Jaskier—and he feels foolish for looking.

No, Geralt decides, he’s not going to let Jaskier cut his hair, or do anything else to him. Better not to bother at all.

The next time the topic of Geralt’s hair comes up, he’s brought Ciri into Jaskier’s salon for an emergency haircut. Ordinarily, Yennefer handles things like haircuts and clothes shopping, but Saturday night, Ciri emerged from the bathroom with the front her hair lopped off somewhere around her eyebrows and a dawning expression of anxious regret on her face. Geralt had reassured her that everything would be OK, while texting Jaskier frantically for help and silently panicking about what Yen was going to say when she came to pick Ciri up on Sunday night. Thankfully, Jaskier was able to squeeze Ciri into his schedule this afternoon, and he promised to fix Ciri up.

So now Geralt is sitting awkwardly in the waiting area, hunched on a squeaky vinyl-upholstered chair. He’s been to Jaskier’s salon plenty of times—to meet him for lunch or a post-shift drink, to drop off something he left at the house or to give him a ride home—but he rarely does more than stand uneasily just inside the door. The relentless pop music and the echoing acoustics never fail to overwhelm him, as does the muddle of scents—clouds of different hair products and the pervasive smell of something sharp like ammonia. The abundance of mirrors unnerves him, too. Nobody can possibly need to see so many views of their own reflection, can they? Between the curious patrons peering at him in the mirrors and passersby staring in through the plate glass storefront, Geralt feels like he’s on display. And to make matters worse, he keeps catching glimpses of his reflection, his own hunted expression looking back at him from unexpected angles.

Ciri, at least, is having a great time, chatting happily with Jaskier as he snips away at her hair. The last time Geralt took Ciri for a haircut, it was at one of those children’s salons where the chairs looked like toy cars, and now here she is, sitting beside grown women almost like she’s one of them. It scares him, sometimes, to think of her growing up—more than sometimes. There are so many ways the world can fail her, and he can only do so much to protect her. There’s going to come a time when she’s going to get into some kind of trouble he won’t be able to bail her out of, and he’s not sure what he’s going to do with himself when that day comes. But for now, at least he can pay Jaskier to fix her disastrous home-brew haircut.

“What d’you think, Dad?” Ciri calls, and he looks up to see Jaskier removing her cape with a flourish. When he turns Ciri’s chair around to face him, Geralt’s heart catches in his throat. How grown up she looks, he thinks, but what really makes his chest ache is how much she’s coming into herself—becoming someone with her own unique taste in clothes and books and music, who won’t compromise about the bullshit dress codes at school and is brave enough to try something new even if the results are atrocious. He doesn’t know where she gets it.

“You like it?” he asks, not trusting himself to say something that won’t embarrass her.

“Yeah, I guess,” she says with a shrug, and hops down from the chair.

“We could do yours next, Geralt,” Jaskier offers, sweeping up the little blonde fragments of Ciri’s hair from the floor around his station.

“Ooh, yeah!” Ciri grins up at him. “I bet Jaskier would give you a really cool haircut.”

“I’m sure he would,” Geralt says mildly. He doesn’t want to quash Ciri’s enthusiasm or impart his own discomfort to her. It’s one of the things that keeps him up at night, the fear that he’ll pass down all his insecurities. He tries so hard to keep that shit buttoned up, to shield her from his own shortcomings—and he knows it’s inevitable that he’s just going to mess her up in other ways, but he wants to do better for her, has to do better. “Maybe some other time.”

“So you’ll consider it!” Jaskier says triumphantly, coming over to tell the receptionist the total for Ciri’s cut.

Geralt notices Ciri looking at herself in the big mirror behind the front desk, fussing self-consciously with her new fringe. Jaskier must notice, too, because he gives Ciri a big hug and says, “You look great, kiddo. Right, Geralt?”

“Definitely,” Geralt says, surrendering his credit card to the receptionist to pay a frankly staggering amount. He tips a hundred percent.

“You should take him up on it,” Yennefer says that evening when Geralt concludes the story of Ciri’s haircut by telling her about Jaskier’s offer to cut Geralt’s hair.

Geralt blinks in surprise. “Really?”

She glances back to where Ciri is waiting for her in the car. “Jaskier did a good job. She and I are going to have a serious conversation later about when to ask for permission and when to ask for forgiveness, but I have to admit it suits her.”

“It does,” Geralt agrees. He realizes he doesn’t know what it would be like, to feel his appearance suited him. He’s never tried, really, to make his exterior reflect his interior, wouldn’t even know where to begin.

“Besides,” Yennefer says, gesturing to his haphazard ponytail, “you really do need to start taking better care of yourself, now that I’m not around to make sure you’re presentable anymore.”

Geralt’s eyebrows shoot up, a smile twitching his lips. “Is that what you were doing? Looking after me?”

Yennefer lifts one hand to tug a lock of his hair, the gesture so similar to Jaskier’s that it makes him shiver, for some reason. “No, but somebody ought to.”

He ducks his head, hoping to hide the ache that washes through him—a longing for something they both wanted but never quite managed to find together. “If you keep Ciri waiting much longer, she’s gonna make a break for it.”

“She would, too,” Yennefer says affectionately. “Take care of yourself, Geralt.” She surprises him by brushing a kiss against his cheek, then turns to go.

Geralt waits until Yennefer’s car is out of sight before he goes inside. As he loads the dinner dishes into the dishwasher, he thinks again about Jaskier’s offer. He’s never been good at asking for things, let alone holding on them once he has them, but it’s been especially hard since he and Yennefer split—even the littlest things feel like they require an effort it’s not worth making. It’s so easy to tell himself he doesn’t need anything—a fancy haircut, a new jacket, a reassuring glance, a gentle touch. But sometimes, maybe, it’s enough to want them.

Wiping soapy water off his hands, Geralt pulls his phone from his pocket and texts Jaskier. Does your offer to cut my hair still stand? Only if you’ve got time.

OMG YES!!! comes the immediate reply. I can be there in 20. Then, a moment later, Jaskier amends, Shit wait make that 40 need to run to get some supplies

Geralt huffs out a laugh. Have to get up early tomorrow. This weekend?

All booked up this weekend but I’m off on Tues so I can come over to your place in the pm if that works for you

He’d hoped to give himself a few days to cancel, just in case he changes his mind, and in this respect Tuesday’s almost no better than forty minutes from now. But he does like the idea of doing this at home, instead of in the salon. He types out OK and hits send before he can think better of it.

Don’t chicken out before then

No promises, Geralt answers.

Jaskier responds with a string of emoji that Geralt finds completely inscrutable, but which make him smile nonetheless.

Jaskier arrives on Tuesday evening with a six-pack of cold beer and bag crammed full of supplies.

“I thought you were going to cut my hair, not outlast a siege,” Geralt says, trying to ignore the way his stomach twists with nerves over this impending ordeal. He should have cancelled. He should never have said yes to this ridiculous idea.

“Oh, none of this would be remotely useful in warfare,” Jaskier replies. Then, contemplatively, he says, “Well, maybe some of it. But first, I thought we could have a drink.”

“So you can cut my hair drunk?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier rolls his eyes and brushes past Geralt into the kitchen, dumping his bag into an empty chair at the table. “So you can relax a little for once. And so we can talk.”

Geralt feels the knot of anxiety in his stomach tighten even further. “What is there to talk about? It’s just a haircut.”

Jaskier lets out a long-suffering sigh as he rummages around in Geralt’s cutlery drawer in search of a bottle opener. “Geralt, have you not listened to a single word I’ve said about my job?” He pops off the caps of two bottles of beer and hands one to Geralt. “No, don’t answer that, I know you haven’t.”

Geralt takes a sullen sip of his beer, but he doesn’t dispute the accusation.

With a nod of his head, Jaskier gestures for Geralt to follow him into the living room, and flops down on what Geralt has come to think of as his side of the couch. Geralt sits at the other end, turned to face him. “You need to know what you want going into this, or you won’t get good results.” Jaskier fixes him with a gaze that makes Geralt take another swallow of his beer. “Have you ever given any thought to what you like, or don’t like, about your hair?”

“Not . . . really,” Geralt mumbles, wondering how angry Jaskier would be if he called this whole thing off now.

“Well,” Jaskier says patiently, “why do you keep your hair long? I always assumed it was because you liked how it looked, but I’m realizing now I’ve never asked about it.”

Geralt takes another sip of his beer and tries to think of answer that’s not Because I do. He’s worn it long since high school, when it was primarily something to hide behind. It felt like a kind of fuck-you, an off-putting choice to keep people from looking too closely at him—and to help him forget about other people, too. “It’s easier,” he says finally. “Don’t have to get it cut every few weeks, and I can keep it out of my face.”

“OK, that’s good to know.” The calm, encouraging tone Jaskier’s taking should feel condescending, but Geralt finds he doesn’t mind—or maybe it’s just the beer starting to relax him a little.

“You don’t always tie it back, though, do you?” Jaskier goes on.

Geralt shakes his head. “When I’m working, yeah, but the rest of the time . . .” He shrugs. It depends—on who he’s around, how comfortable he feels with them, hell, how hard the wind is blowing. Sometimes he can’t stand the feeling of it in face, and sometimes the pressure of the hair elastic at the base of his skull is enough to make him want to rip it out.

“Can I . . . ?” Jaskier gestures to Geralt’s hair, and Geralt inclines his head. It’s inevitable that Jaskier will have to touch him if they’re going to go through with this, so there’s no point in being shy about it. Jaskier scoots forward on the couch, and Geralt holds very still, letting him reach back and undo the tie holding his hair back. A sheet of frizzy white strands spills around his bowed head, almost obscuring Jaskier from view.

He can feel Jaskier, though, running his fingers through his hair. The touch makes Geralt’s scalp tingle and a shiver runs through him that he tries and fails to suppress.

“OK?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt nods.

“You’ve never told me when you went grey.” Jaskier’s voice is hushed, almost as if he’s afraid of startling him. He continues to card his hand through Geralt’s hair—with professional curiosity, Geralt realizes, but the touch is so gentle it also feels like a reassurance. Geralt closes his eyes, grateful to be shielded from Jaskier’s view.

“Started in high school,” he says. It’s been a long time since he thought about how, when those first thick streaks of white were coming into his dark hair, kids at school would call him skunk and Cruella de Vil, shit he knew better than to respond to but that just made him even more self-conscious. It occurs to him now that most of his memories of being looked at—really noticed—are colored by other people’s derision for things he can’t help. “It was all like this by the time I was twenty-one, twenty-two. Someone told me once it’s genetic, but . . .” He shrugs again. He’s got no one to ask about a family history of premature graying, no photos of distant relatives to compare himself to.

Gentle fingers tuck his hair back behind one ear, and Geralt looks up to see Jaskier smiling at him. “I would pay good money to see pictures of you in high school. I bet you were so surly.”

“You wouldn’t have liked me,” Geralt says “I was insufferable.” Miserable and ungrateful and roiling with self-righteous anger all the time, hardly able to string a civil sentence together.

Jaskier rewards him with a snort of disbelieving laughter. “You’re insufferable now and I like you just fine.”

This is true, Geralt thinks. His anger has banked down somewhat since those days, but he’s no less difficult to be around, and Jaskier’s never seemed to mind his rough edges. If he’s being honest, he wouldn’t have been able to appreciate Jaskier in those day. His constant talking and absurd jokes would have grated on Geralt’s nerves, back then. They did when he first met Jaskier, in fact. He tried, for a long time, to keep his distance, sure that there was nothing he and Jaskier could possibly have to say to each other. But Jaskier kept turning up, kept surprising him, kept being kind to him for no damn reason. Geralt’s glad he did.

“So,” Jaskier says, pushing the conversation back in his desired direction, as he always does, “what I’m hearing is, you like wearing your hair long?”

Geralt considers, taking another swallow of his beer. Liking doesn’t figure into his thinking much, but it’s not just out of habit that he keeps it this way. “Yeah.”

Jaskier’s nod is solemn. “Anything you don’t like about it?”

Again, Geralt has to give this serious thought. “There are, uh . . .” He gestures to the wiry flyaways that tend to form around his head by the end of the day. They tend to tickle his face unpleasantly as he works, which is irritating when he doesn’t hand a hand free to brush them away.

“Yeah, it’s a little dry,” Jaskier says. “But we can fix that up.” Geralt knows exactly how soft Jaskier’s hair is, and he can’t imagine his own ragged hair could ever come close. “Anything else?”

Geralt shrugs.

“OK,” Jaskier says, “enough with the interrogation. I think I’ve got everything I need.”

Jaskier gets up and retrieves another beer—not for himself, but for Geralt. Jaskier’s fingers brush his as he hands over the bottle, and it gives him the same little shiver that he felt when Jaskier was combing through his hair. “D’you want me to tell you what I’m thinking, or just surprise you?”

Geralt’s gut instinct is to make Jaskier tell him what he’s got in mind, so that he has the option to veto it and put this whole thing to a stop. But he thinks of Jaskier’s teasing question the first time they talked about this—Don’t you trust me?—and how he’d said no when the answer is really yes. So he takes a deep pull of his beer and says, “Surprise me.”

The look of glee on Jaskier’s face is worth the knot of dread that immediately forms in Geralt’s stomach. He takes another drinks and reminds himself that it’s just hair. It’ll grow back.

“You’re not gonna regret it, I promise,” Jaskier says, and then his warm hands are urging Geralt up and off the couch.

It takes them a while to get everything situated to Jaskier’s liking—the bathroom is too cramped to accommodate a chair, so Jaskier has Geralt drag one into the kitchen, covering the floor in newspapers to catch the stray clippings. Then Jaskier sends Geralt to wash his hair while he sets up the rest of his supplies. When Geralt comes back downstairs, his hair soaking into his t-shirt, there is a truly staggering array of equipment spread out on the counter, Jaskier’s own little traveling apothecary kit, with everything from dangerously sharp scissors to brightly-colored bottles of product to some kind of instrument that looks like a bowl full of dull spikes, which Jaskier says attaches to his hair dryer.

“Rule number one,” Jaskier says, grabbing the towel out of Geralt’s hands. “No more regular towels on your hair. Your hair deserves to be treated with care.” Geralt snorts, but the towel he hands Geralt is pleasantly soft, with finer knap that’s soft as fleece in his hands. “And don’t rub at it,” Jaskier scolds. He steps closer, wrapping his hands around Geralt’s to guide him, his hand moving in a gentle squeezing motion. “That’s good,” he says, and Geralt feels his cheeks flush.

Once Geralt’s hair is toweled dry, Jaskier maneuvers him into the chair, and combs out his hair with a wide-toothed comb. Jaskier is exceedingly careful not to yank on the knots, but even so the gentle tug sets his skin tangling. Geralt knows his scalp is sensitive—he can remember fighting back tears while Vesemir struggled to brush out his unruly hair as a kid—but it’s never felt like this before. Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that ordinarily, when he finally breaks down and subjects himself to a trim, he just asks Eskel do come over and cut it with the kitchen scissors. Even with someone he trusts as profoundly as he does Eskel, it’s still an uncomfortable ordeal that makes him unaccountably tense. But this isn’t painful, or unnerving at all. It’s . . . nice, embarrassingly so. He can’t help wondering what it would feel like if Jaskier were to drag his nails along his scalp—and then he has to force himself not to think about it, because even the thought of the sensation sends a shudder through him.

Thankfully, Jaskier is busy fiddling with his phone, and a moment later he puts on a playlist he likes to call Geralt’s Sad Dad Rock mix. Geralt appreciates the background noise—familiar songs he can tune out if he wants to, quiet enough that the music’s not intrusive.

“OK,” Jaskier says, snapping a cape around Geralt’s throat. His hand comes to rest on Geralt’s shoulder and he leans in to speak almost directly into Geralt’s ear. “Ready?”

Geralt suppresses another chill and says, “As I’ll ever be.”

Jaskier gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and gets to work. Geralt’s grateful for the lack of mirrors, because it means he doesn’t have to see what Jaskier’s doing, but at the same time it leaves him without much to go on—just the touch of the comb, Jaskier’s hands carefully repositioning his head, his fingers pulling this or that lock of hair taut to snip at them with the scissors. Eventually, Geralt closes his eyes and lets Jaskier’s voice wash over him. Jaskier often accuses Geralt of not listening to him when he talks, but in truth it’s easy to get lost in the lilting cadence of his speech, like hearing a song but not its lyrics.

“. . . and the thing is,” Jaskier’s saying, though Geralt lost the thread of his rambling long ago, “the more you do it, the better your results will be. You just have to help them along . . .”

He can see why Jaskier’s clients like him so much, how nice it is to fall into the pattern of someone else’s words, especially when that someone has as nice a voice as Jaskier. He’s often grateful for Jaskier’s conversation, which fills silences Geralt didn’t even realize were empty until he came along.

When Jaskier says, “OK, you’re all done,” Geralt is surprised by how quickly the time has passed. “We can just leave it at that and just let it air dry, or . . .” Even though he can’t see Jaskier, he can picture the hopeful expression on his face.

“What?” Geralt asks, twisting around in the chair to look Jaskier in the eye.

Jaskier bites his bottom lip, looking almost nervous. “Or I could show you how to style it. If you wanted. Nothing over the top, I promise.”

Geralt thinks it over. On the one hand, there’s no way he’ll ever bother repeating anything Jaskier shows him how to do, but on the other hand, he wouldn’t mind having Jaskier’s hands on him a little longer. “All right.”

“Really?” Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “Nope, never mind, I’m not gonna second-guess this. No take-backs! You’re committed now.”

Which is how Geralt finds himself being hustled back upstairs and into the bathroom. Jaskier pulls back the shower curtain and is about to start issuing instructions when he lets out a squawk and staggers backward.

Geralt looks around in alarm, expecting to see a giant spider in the tub. It’s only belatedly that he realizes he’s thrown an arm out in front of Jaskier, as if that will protect him from whatever nonexistent threat he was reacting to. “What?”

“Geralt, for shame!” Jaskier exclaims, pointing to the bottle of 3-in-1 shampoo/conditioner/body wash on the edge of the tub. “Is that yours?” He says it with all the breathless horror of someone discovering a murder weapon.

“Uh . . .” Geralt has the distinct feeling he should try to deny it, but there’s no point in trying to pretend. “Yes?”

And then Jaskier is laughing, but it’s warm with delight, not mocking or cruel. In fact, he looks up at Geralt with such fondness that Geralt almost can’t bear it. “Oh, you poor man,” Jaskier says between gusts of laughter. “No wonder your hair is so dry!”

“. . . It’s efficient,” Geralt mutters in a half-hearted attempt to defend himself.

“It’s like washing your hair with dish soap. But don’t worry,” he adds, pressing a hand to Geralt’s chest, “I’ll get you sorted out and then your hair will be so soft it’ll be completely irresistible.”

“Hmm,” Geralt says dubiously, but Jaskier just grins at him.

“OK, this next part is going to be a little awkward. Ordinarily you’d do it by yourself in the shower, but I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’d rather not jump in the shower with me right now.”

Geralt very much does not acknowledge the wave of heat that rolls through him at the thought. “Probably wouldn’t fit, anyway.”

“Eh, I’ve made it work in smaller spaces than this,” Jaskier says, with such casual confidence that Geralt’s mouth goes dry. “But luckily, you’ve got one of those detachable showerheads, so we should be just fine. Might be easier, though, if you, uh, take off your shirt off.”

Geralt’s already come this far, and, besides, it’s not like Jaskier hasn’t seen him without his shirt on before. As Geralt strips off his shirt, Jaskier puts a towel down on the floor and beckons him to kneel down at the edge the tub. He’s careful to get the water to a comfortable temperature before he puts a warm hand on Geralt’s bare back, guiding him to lean over, his head bowed.

The routine Jaskier directs him through is more complicated than Geralt could ever have anticipated. There’s a thick, dark purple shampoo that Jaskier instructs him to use only once a week—he has another shampoo he’ll give Geralt to use at other times, but really, Jaskier insists, he should only be washing his hair a couple of times a week, anyway. Jaskier shows him how to rub the shampoo into his scalp only and let the water draw it down through the rest of his hair. The pressure of the spray on his scalp makes his skin tingle, as does the press of Jaskier’s body against his side. When Geralt doesn’t apply the conditioner to Jaskier’s liking, he adjusts Geralt’s hands with his own, smoothing their joined fingers through Geralt’s slippery hair. And when it comes time to rinse the conditioner out, he shows Geralt how to cup the water in his palms and press it into the wet mass of his hair.

“You’re doing great,” Jaskier tells him, and Geralt is grateful his face is hidden behind ropes of his wet hair.

Finally, Jaskier pronounces himself satisfied and turns off the water. Now that they’re done the task of washing his hair, Geralt’s awkwardly aware of his chest dripping with water in the cool air of the bathroom—and of Jaskier standing less than an arm’s length away from him.

Jaskier, on the other hand, is nothing but professional, rubbing a series of products into his hands and then smoothing them over Geralt’s hair. After each application, he gathers Geralt’s hair in his hands and presses it up toward Geralt’s scalp, just like they did with the water. It’s a bizarre motion, like nothing Geralt’s ever seen before, but it seems to be having the desired effect, because the strands of hair hanging down in front of his face are slowly forming into thick coils, and Jaskier keeps making little satisfied humming sounds with each new application. Jaskier finishes by wrapping Geralt’s hair up in another one of those extra soft towels.

“And now we wait,” he says, hopping up onto the sink.

Geralt pulls his shirt on again, careful not to disturb the towel on his head, and he might be wrong but he thinks that he catches a little disappointed frown cross Jaskier’s face, but it’s gone before he can be sure.

“Thanks for indulging me,” Jaskier says. “I know you don’t really like this kind of stuff, but I’m having a great time.”

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” Geralt replies. But that sounds worse than it did in his head, and he hastens to add, “I mean—it’s nice—when it’s you.”

Jaskier’s smile is something Geralt can’t quite get to the bottom of—fond and wry and maybe a little sad, too. “Well, I’ve been dying to do this pretty much since the moment I met you, so, you know, thanks for that.”

It’s strange to think Jaskier has been harboring private aspirations where Geralt is concerned. But then Jaskier’s always been full of surprises when it comes to him—immune to his ill temper, amused by his rudeness, tenacious enough to bully his way past his silences. He’s never understood what Jaskier sees in him, and he often feels he offers a poor reward for the hard work Jaskier puts in to being his friend. Because it’s not easy, Geralt knows. Plenty of people have decided Geralt was too difficult to get to know, or too prickly to stick with. Even Yennefer, who’s loved him better than he could possibly deserve, struggled to make inroads against Geralt’s defenses. It never seemed to matter how much he loved Yennefer, he could never bring himself to relax around her. He was always on tenterhooks, waiting for the other shoe to drop—until, in time, it did, a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. He can’t blame Yennefer ending things. She wants things he doesn’t know how to give. He couldn’t figure out how to change himself into the sort of person she deserved.

“D’you want another beer?” Jaskier asks, nudging Geralt’s knee with his bare foot.

He wouldn’t mind another drink, but he’s loathe to puncture the peaceful little moment that’s grown up between them. “Let’s just stay here.”

Jaskier nods, and a moment later Fleetwood Mac comes on over Jaskier’s phone speakers—one of the only bands they can agree on—and Jaskier treats him to an inspired rendition of “Dreams,” his voice turned otherworldly by the chill acoustics of the bathroom tiles. Geralt watches Jaskier dance on his perch on the edge of the sink and wonders, with an ache in his chest, what it would be like to be so uninhibited, so comfortable in his own skin. He can’t imagine it, but sometimes he feels like he’s maybe just a half-step closer to knowing when he’s around Jaskier.

When the song fades out, Jaskier hops down from the counter and says, “OK, time for the last step.”

Jaskier sticks that torture device attachment onto his hair dryer and lets Geralt’s hair down from the towel. Jaskier lets him stay seated, and starts drying his hair. He doesn’t pull Geralt’s hair taut with a brush, as Geralt has seen Yennefer do when styling her own hair. Instead, he gathers it up a section of hair in that little torture device accessory and holds the dryer still, letting the air work around the strands. Geralt closes his eyes against the noise and sensation of the air against his scalp. It lasts a long time, Geralt bracing his arms on his thighs as Jaskier moves the hair dryer around his head. The noise of the dryer makes conversation difficult, and Geralt feels strangely distant from Jaskier all of a sudden, even though he’s standing so close Geralt could press his face to the soft flesh of his stomach if he wanted to. He knots his hands together between his knees to keep himself from just reaching out and pulling Jaskier close.

When Jaskier finally switches off the hair dryer, the silence it leaves feels big. It’s probably just the heat from the hair dyer, but Geralt feels flushed and a little rubbed raw.

“All right,” Jaskier says, fixing him with a considering look. “Let me just . . .” He reaches out and grips Geralt’s hair in both hands. He doesn’t so much tug as gently crush the strands, but the pressure is enough to make Geralt’s mouth fall open, and he doesn’t exactly make a noise but something happens in his chest like his lungs kickstarting. Jaskier glances down at him with an inquisitive smile. “Sorry, too hard?”

It’s all Geralt can do to shake his head.

“All done,” Jaskier says. When he lets go, Geralt immediately misses the touch. “Wanna take a look?”

Geralt stands up and turns to regard himself in the mirror. To say he doesn’t recognize himself would be an overstatement, but the sight of his reflection is a surprise. The cut doesn’t seem all that different in terms of length, but the ragged edges are gone. The dingy white of his hair has turned a gleaming silver, and it hangs around his face not in its usual lank tangle, but in softly curling waves. It’s almost . . . pretty, a word he’s never associated with himself in his entire life. The new brightness of his hair makes his face seem clearer, more open somehow, and the gentle curls offset the hard lines of his face in a way that make his features look almost delicate, or in any case less roughly hewn than usual. He reaches up to touch it, and to his amazement, it’s just as soft as Jaskier promised it would be. Maybe not as soft as Jaskier’s own hair, but much nicer than he can remember it ever feeling before.

“You like it?” Jaskier asks, and in the mirror, Geralt can see he’s looking at him with a hopeful expression. It makes something twist in his stomach—longing, and at the same time a rejection of what he wants, the certainty that he can’t possibly hang onto anything nice for long enough to enjoy it.

“You know I’ll never go to all this trouble,” he says, gruffly, and immediately regrets it when he sees Jaskier’s smile slip from his face.

“No, I know,” Jaskier says, and starts packing up his supplies. “I just wanted to try it. I’ll still leave you all the products, just in case you change your mind, or—”

“Jaskier.” Geralt swallows hard, and puts a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. “I—”

Jaskier looks at him with such a searching expression that Geralt hardly knows how to look at him. He’s never known someone who’s so much all the time, expansive and loud and demanding and generous and so goddamn bright.

“What I should have said,” Geralt says, against the tension threatening to stop his throat, “is that I wouldn’t have tried this if it weren’t for you. It’s . . .” He’s not sure how to answer Jaskier’s question. Does he like it? He looks so unlike himself that he honestly doesn’t know what to make of it. He can’t tell if it suits him or not, because he still isn’t sure what that would mean. But he likes the idea that Jaskier’s uncovered this version of him, that this might be how Jaskier sees him in his mind’s eye. “I’m glad we tried it. Thank you.”

“I am, too,” Jaskier says, quietly. “Even if you never do it again, I’m glad you trusted me enough to try. And for the record?” The twist of his lips is almost pained, but it’s a smile all the same. “You look fucking gorgeous.”

Geralt ducks his head, his shoulders inching up. “Jaskier . . .”

“No, I’m serious, Geralt.” Jaskier sounds annoyed, almost angry, all of a sudden. “I know you don’t care about superficial stuff—”

“That’s not—”

“—but take it from someone who spends a lot of time looking at people and doing my best to make them look as good as I possibly can: you’re objectively really fucking good-looking.” Jaskier lets out a harsh, reckless laugh. “And if you don’t care about my professional opinion, I also happen to think you’re the most attractive person I’ve ever met in my entire life, so there’s that.”

“I—”

Now that Jaskier’s started talking, he can’t seem to stop. “You’re the most incredible person I know, Geralt,” he says, in a breathless rush, “and I’m not talking just about your looks—although you are genuinely so ridiculously handsome that it’s really not fair. You’re kind for no reason and incredibly devoted and, OK, sort of a dick sometimes, but also so goddamn careful with other people and so fucking hard on yourself, and I just—I wish you could see yourself the way I do. I wish I could show you, even for just a second, because—”

“You did,” Geralt says. Jaskier stares at him, stunned into silence, and Geralt takes the opportunity to continue. “You do. Not just tonight.” He’s breathing hard, and he tries not to think about how dangerous this feels, like standing up on the top of a tall ladder or walking the line of a roof that might collapse under him at any moment. “When I’m with you, I feel like I could be that person you see in me, maybe. I just . . . don’t know how.”

Jaskier laughs again—softer this time. “You dummy,” he says, “you already are. You’ve just got to believe it.”

“Oh, is that all,” Geralt says.

“Yeah, no big deal,” Jaskier says, waving one hand dismissively. “You’ve got me to convince you, after all.”

“Oh, yeah?” Geralt can’t help the smile spreading across his face, despite the shivery feeling still simmering under his skin. “How’re you gonna do that?”

“Well . . .” Jaskier takes a step towards him, and then another, settling his hands lightly on Geralt’s hips. “I’d probably start a little like this . . .”

The first touch of Jaskier’s lips on his is like a breath of clean air after a storm, and Geralt can feel something that’s been knotted tight inside him for a long time unfurling itself. It doesn’t feel dangerous anymore, that buzz under his skin transmuting into a golden glow. He knows it’s not as simple as it feels—he can’t expect Jaskier to change him with a single kiss—but for the first time in a long while, something feels purely, unequivocally good, and he wants more of it.

In time, Jaskier’s hands creep up Geralt’s sides to his back, even as Geralt’s own hands drift down past Jaskier’s waist. When Jaskier’s hands slip into his hair, Geralt wrenches himself free with a shiver. “You’re going to undo all your hard work,” he says, teasingly.

“D’you really care?” Jaskier asks, and scratches his nails along Geralt’s scalp, wringing a whine from deep in Geralt’s chest that should be embarrassing but isn’t.

“Not really,” Geralt gasps, his whole body pressing closer against Jaskier’s. “You can always do it again.”

Jaskier’s smile is wide as he bends to kiss him again. “That’s what I thought.”

#the witcher #witcher modern au #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla of cintra #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #gerlion #some background yennalt here #i've got 99 problems and aus are all of them #hairdresser!jaskier #i can't believe i wrote modern au witcher fic and still wound up writing a bath fic #the witcher fandom loves baths apparently #somebody please help me title this thing #i need a title that isn't when the rain washes you clean you'll know

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marlborodean · 4 years ago

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spn quotes: season one

i’m collecting a bunch of quotes from the show! favorite lines, good points of characterization, etc. all organized by episode and character, and with timestamps!

w/ncest shippers get lost

season two.

1. PILOT

Dean—

[Sam: So we kill everything we can find.] Save a lot of people doing it, too. (08:51)

I can’t do this alone. [Sam: Yes, you can.] Yeah. Well, I don’t want to. (09:30)

[Officer: So. Fake U.S. Marshal, fake credit cards. You got anything that’s real?] My boobs. (28:50)

Sam—

When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45. [Dean: What was he supposed to do?] I was 9 years old. He was supposed to say, “Don’t be afraid of the dark.” (08:30)

You think Mom would’ve wanted this for us? (08:58)

We were raised like warriors. (09:06)

[Dean: Are you just gonna live some normal, apple-pie life? Is that it?] No, not normal. Safe. [And that’s why you ran away.] I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go, I should stay gone. (09:09)

[Dean: You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? You think you’re just gonna become some lawyer, marry your girl?] Maybe. Why not? [Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you’ve done?] No, and she’s not ever going to know. [Well, that’s healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later you’re gonna have to face up to who you really are.] And who is that? [One of us.] No. I’m not like you. This is not going to be my life. (22:45)

If it weren’t for pictures, I wouldn’t even know what Mom looks like. What difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom’s gone, and she isn’t coming back. (23:17)

2. W*ND*G* ( x )

Dean—

Her brother’s missing, Sam. She’s not just gonna sit this out. (14:55)

[Hailey: And you’re hiking out in biker boots and jeans?] Well, sweetheart, I don’t do shorts. (15:54)

I’m supposed to be the belligerent one, remember? (25:13)

The way I see it, Dad’s given us a job to do, and I intend to do it. (26:31)

All that anger, you can’t keep it burning over the long haul. It’s gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man. [Sam: How do you do it? How does Dad do it?] Well, for one, them. I mean, I figure our family’s so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. It makes things a little bit more bearable. And I’ll tell you what else helps. Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can. (27:05)

Sam—

[Dean: No, you’re not fine. You’re like a powder keg, man. It’s not like you.] (25:06)

3. DEAD IN THE WATER

Dean—

You don’t think I want to find Dad as much as you do? [Sam: Yeah, I know you do, it’s just—] I’m the one that’s been with him every single day for the past two years while you’ve been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then, we’re gonna kill everything bad between here and there, okay? (04:09)

Well, maybe you don’t think anyone will listen to you, or... or believe you. I want you to know that I will. (11:58)

You’re scared. It’s okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn’t feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that everyday. And I do my best to be brave. (20:14)

What if we missed something? What if more people get hurt? [Sam: But why would you think that?] Because Lucas was really scared. [That’s what this is about?] I just don’t want to leave town until I know the kid’s okay. (29:48)

Sam—

People don’t just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them. (03:51)

4. PHANTOM TRAVELER

Dean—

It’s your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp. (05:18)

Sam—

[Dean: It’s your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp.] (05:18)

[Jerry: Well, he was real proud of you, I could tell. You know, he talked about you all the time.] He did? (07:09)

Hey, hey, it’s just a little turbulence. [Sam, this place is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I’m friggin’ 4.] You need to calm down. [Well, I’m sorry, I can’t!] Yes, you can. [Dude. Stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap. It’s not helping.] Listen, if you’re panicked, you’re wide open to demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down right now. (30:26)

5. BLOODY MARY

Dean—

Do I look like Paris Hilton? (18:08)

Her boyfriend killing himself, that’s not really Charlie’s fault. (29:54)

Now listen to me. It wasn’t your fault. It you want to blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or, hell, why don’t you take a swing at me? I’m the one that dragged you away from her. [Sam: I don’t blame you.] Well, you shouldn’t blame yourself, because there’s nothing you could’ve done. (31:24)

Sam—

[Dean: Hell, why don’t you take a swing at me? I’m the one that dragged you away from her.] I don’t blame you. (31:37)

Charlie. Your boyfriend’s death, you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn’t have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen. (40:37)

6. SKIN

Dean—

He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home with Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends, you could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me. [Sam: What are you talking about?] You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. (24:21)

Sam—

[Rebecca: It must be lonely.] Oh, no. No, it’s not so bad. Anyway, what can I do? It’s my family. (39:02)

Misc—

Shifter: Evolution is about mutation, right? So maybe this thing was born human, but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else. (27:14)

7. HOOK MAN

Dean—

I told you, you don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius. (14:59)

[Sam: Hey, be quiet.] Me be quiet? You be quiet! (19:48)

Sam—

[Dean: You’ve been holding out on me. This college thing is awesome!] This wasn’t really my experience. [Let me guess—library, studying, straight A’s. What a geek.] (21:30)

8. BUGS

Dean—

Growing up in a place like this would freak me out. [Sam: Why?] The manicured lawns, how-was-your-day-honey? I’d blow my brains out. [There’s nothing wrong with normal.] I’d take our family over normal any day. (08:21)

[Sam: You’ll be able to get out of that house and away from your dad.] What kind of advice is that? Kid should stick with his family. (20:26)

Hey, so with that kid back there, how could you tell him to just ditch his family like that? [Sam: Just, uh, I know what the kid’s going through.] How about telling him to respect his old man? How’s that for advice? (23:20)

Matt, under no circumstances are you to tell the truth. He’ll just think you’re nuts. Tell him you have a sharp pain in your right side and you gotta go to the hospital, okay? [Matt: Yeah, okay.] Make him listen? What are you thinking? (32:44)

Sam—

Remind you of somebody? Dad? [Dean: Dad never treated us like that.] Well, Dad never treated you like that. You were perfect. He was all over my case. ...You don’t remember. [Dean: Well, maybe he had to raise his voice but sometimes you were out of line.] Right. Right, like when I said I’d rather play soccer than learn bowhunting. (11:46)

[Matt: Larry doesn’t listen to me.] Why not? [Mostly? He’s too disappointed in his freak son.] I hear ya. [Dean: You do?] Matt, how old are you? [Matt: Sixteen.] Well, don’t sweat it, ‘cause in two years something great’s gonna happen. [What?] College. You’ll be able to get out of that house and away from your dad. (20:04)

[Dean: Hey, so with that kid back there, how could you tell him to just ditch his family like that?] Just, uh, I know what the kid’s going through. [How about telling him to respect his old man? How’s that for advice?] Dean, come on. This isn’t about his old man. You think I didn’t respect Dad, that’s what this is about. [Just forget it, alright? Sorry I brought it up.] I respected him. But no matter what I did, it was never good enough. [So what are you saying, that Dad was disappointed in you?] Was? Is! Always has been. [Why would you think that?] Because I didn’t wanna bowhunt or hustle pool, because I wanted to go to school and live my life, which to our whacked-out family, made me the freak. (23:20)

Dean, you know what most dads are when their kids score a full-ride? Proud. Most dads don’t toss their kids out of the house. [Dean: I remember that fight. In fact, I seem to recall a few choice phrases coming out of your mouth.] You know, truth is, when we finally do find Dad, I don’t know if he’s even gonna wanna see me. (24:05)

9. HOME

Dean—

And then you tell me that I’ve got to go back home, especially when... [Sam: When what?] When I swore to myself that I would never go back there. (07:56)

I remember the fire, the heat. Then I carried you out the front door. [Sam: You did?] Yeah, well, you never knew that? [No.] (12:38)

I don’t know what to do. So, whatever you’re doing. if you could get here... please. I need your help, Dad. (14:45)

Sam—

[Dean: I remember the fire, the heat. Then I carried you out the front door.] You did? [Yeah, well, you never knew that?] No. (12:38)

Misc—

Missouri: All those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds, and sometimes wounds get infected. (27:15)

10. ASYLUM

Dean—

[Sam: This is a job. Dad wants us to work a job.] Yeah, well, maybe we’ll meet up with him. Maybe he’s there. [Maybe he’s not. I mean, he could be sending us there by ourselves to hunt this thing.] Who cares? If he wants us there, it’s good enough for me. [This doesn’t strike you as weird? The texting, the coordinates?] Sam. Dad’s telling us to go somewhere. We’re going. (07:05)

[Sam: We deserve some answers. I mean, this is our family we’re talking about.] I understand that, Sam, but he’s given us an order. [So what, we gotta always follow Dad’s order?] Of course we do. (12:17)

[Sam: I mean, why are we even here? ‘Cause you’re following Dad’s orders like a good little soldier? ‘Cause you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?] (36:52)

Sam—

[Dean: We’ve got to burn Ellicott’s bones, and all this will be over, and you’ll be back to normal.] I am normal. I’m just telling you the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? ‘Cause you’re following Dad’s orders like a good little soldier? ‘Cause you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval? [This isn’t you talking.] That’s the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I’m not pathetic like you. [So what are you gonna do? You gonna kill me?] You know, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. (36:43)

11. SCARECROW

Dean—

[Sam: I don’t understand the blind faith you have in the man. I mean, it’s like you don’t even question him.] Yeah, it’s called being a good son. You’re a selfish bastard, you know that? You just do whatever you want. You don’t care what anyone thinks. (08:08)

[Sam: You know, if you’re hinting you need my help, just ask.] I’m not hinting anything. Actually, uh... I want you to know... I mean, don’t think... [Yeah. I’m sorry, too.] Sam.... You were right. You got to do your own thing. You got to live your own life. [You serious?] You’ve always known what you want, and you go after it. You stand up to Dad. I mean, you always have. Hell, I wish I.... Anyway. I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy. [I don’t even know what to say.] Say you’ll take care of yourself. (25:04)

Sam—

[Dean: Dad doesn’t want our help.] I don’t care. [He’s given us an order.] I don’t care. We don’t always have to do what he says. [Sam, Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives. It’s important.] Alright, I understand. Believe me, I understand. But I’m talking one week here, man, to get answers. To get revenge. [Alright, look, I know how you feel.] Do you? How old were you when Mom died, 4? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel? (07:25)

[Meg: I had to get away from my family.] Why? [I love my parents. And they wanted what’s best for me. They just didn’t care if I wanted it. I was supposed to be smart, but not smart enough to scare away a husband. Well, it’s just.... Because my family said so, I’m supposed to sit there and do what I was told. So I just went on my own way instead. ...I’m sorry. The things you say to people you hardly know.] No, no, it’s okay. I know how you feel. Remember that brother I mentioned before that I was road-tripping with? It’s kind of the same deal. [And that’s why you’re not riding with him anymore? ...Here’s to us. The food might be bad, and the beds might be hard, but at least we’re living our own lives and nobody else’s.] (21:11)

[Med: You’re running back to your brother? The guy you ran away from? Why, because he won’t pick up his phone? Sam, come with me to California.] I can’t. I’m sorry. [Why not?] He’s my family. (31:13)

12. FAITH

Dean—

Looks like you’re gonna leave town without me. [Sam: What are you talking about? I’m not gonna leave you here.] You better take care of that car. I swear I’ll haunt your ass. [I don’t think that’s funny.] Oh, come on, it’s a little funny. (04:44)

[Sam: Maybe it’s time to have a little faith, Dean.] You know what I got faith in? Reality—knowing what’s really going on. [How can you be a skeptic, with the things we see every day?] Exactly, we see them. We know they’re real. [But if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there too?] ‘Cause I’ve seen what evil does to good people. (08:10)

[Roy: I looked into your heart and you just...stood out from all the rest.] What did you see in my heart? [A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn’t finished.] (15:27)

You never should’ve brought me here. [Sam: Dean, I was just trying to save your life.] Sam, some guy is dead now because of me. (19:30)

The guy is playing God, deciding who lives and dies. That’s a monster in my book. (22:42)

[Layla: I wish you luck. I really do.] Same to you. You deserve it a lot more than me. (30:38)

[Sam: To cross a line like that, that preacher’s wife—black magic, murder. Evil.] Desperate. Her husband was dying. She would’ve done anything to save him. (31:35)

God save us from half the people who think they’re doing God’s work. (32:04)

[Sam: What’s happening to her is horrible. But what are you gonna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself, Dean—you can’t play God.] (32:58)

Must be rough, to believe in something so much and have it disappoint you like that. (40:57)

You know, I’m not much of the praying type, but I’m gonna pray for you. [Layla: Well. There’s a miracle right there.] (42:00)

Sam—

[Dean: I’m gonna die. And you can’t stop it.] Watch me. (05:23)

[Dean: You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?] I’m not gonna let you die, period. (07:04)

How can you be a skeptic, with the things we see everyday? [Dean: Exactly, we see them. We know they’re real.] If you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there too? (08:18)

[The guy is playing God, deciding who lives and dies. That’s a monster in my book.] No, we’re not gonna kill a human being, Dean. We do that, we’re no better than he is. (22:42)

Misc—

Layla: I guess if you’re gonna have faith, you can’t just have it when the miracles happen. You have to have it when they don’t. (41:19)

13. ROUTE 666

Dean—

[Sam: Look man, everybody’s got to open up to someone sometime.] Yeah, I don’t. It was stupid to get that close. (13:06)

[Cassie: Whenever we get—what’s the word?—close? Anywhere in the neighborhood of emotional vulnerability, you back off or make some joke or find any way to shut the door on me.] (15:19)

Sam—

You told her. You told her the secret. Our big family rule number one—we do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half, I do nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a couple of times, and you tell her everything? (04:18)

Oh, my life was so simple. Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms. [Dean: So I guess I saved you from a boring existence.] Occasionally I miss boring. [So, this killer truck—] I miss conversations that didn’t start with “this killer truck.” (29:31)

Ever make you wonder if it’s worth it? Putting everything on hold, doing what we do? (39:10)

14. NIGHTMARE

Dean—

[Sam: Well, with what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people—I’m sorry, man. I hate to say it, but it’s not that insane.] Yeah, but it doesn’t justify murdering your entire family. [Dean—] He’s no different than anything else we’ve hunted. Alright? We gotta end him. [We’re not gonna kill Max.] Then what? Hand him over to the cops and say, “Lock him up, officer. He kills people with the power of his mind.” [Forget it. No way, man.] Sam— [Dean, he’s a person. We can talk to him. Hey, promise me you’ll follow my lead on this one.] Alright, fine. But I’m not letting him hurt anybody else. (25:01)

[Sam: We’re lucky we had Dad.] I never thought I’d hear you say that. [Well, it could have gone a whole ‘nother way after Mom. A little more tequila, a little less demon hunting, then we would have had Max’s childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay. Thanks to him.] All things considered. (38:27)

As long as I’m around, nothing bad’s gonna happen to you. (41:27)

Sam—

Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people. [Dean: What’s that?] Both our families are cursed. [Our family’s not cursed. We’ve just... had our dark spots.] Our dark spots are pretty dark. (19:13)

I was connecting to Max. The thing I don’t get it why, man. I guess because we’re so alike? [Dean: What are you talking about? Dude’s nothing like you.] Well, we both have psychic abilities. We’re both— [Both what? Sam, Max is a monster. He’s already killed two people, now he’s gunning for a third.] Well, with what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people—I’m sorry, man. I hate to say it, but it’s not that insane. (24:43)

If I just said something else, gotten through to him somehow. [Dean: Don’t do that.] Do what? [Torture yourself. It wouldn’t have mattered what you said. Max was too far gone.] When I think about how he looked at me, man, right before.... I should have done something. [Come on, man, you risked your life. I mean, yeah, maybe if we’d have gotten there 20 years earlier.] Well, I’ll tell you one thing. We’re lucky we had Dad. [I never thought I’d hear you say that.] Well, it could have gone a whole ‘nother way after Mom. A little more tequila, a little less demon hunting, then we would have had Max’s childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay. Thanks to him. (38:03)

15. THE BENDERS

Dean—

Look... he’s family. And I kind of—I kind of look out for the kid. You gotta let me go with you. [Kathleen: I’m sorry, I can’t do that.] Well, tell me something. Your country has its fair share of missing persons. Any of ‘em come back? Sam’s my responsibility, and he’s coming back. I’m bringing him back. (08:56)

When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire. And ever since then, I’ve felt responsible for him. You know, like it’s my job to keep him safe. I’m just afraid if we don’t find him fast.... Please. He’s my family. (15:04)

Demons, I get. People are crazy. (28:08)

If you hurt my brother, I’ll kill you, I swear. I’ll kill you all. I will kill you all! (35:54)

16. SHADOW

Dean—

[Sam: What are you gonna do when it’s all over?] It’s never gonna be over. There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be something to hunt. [But there’s got to be something that you want for yourself.] Yeah, I don’t want you to leave the second this thing’s over, Sam. [Dude. What’s your problem?] Why do you think I drag you everywhere, huh? Why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place? [’Cause Dad was in trouble. ‘Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom.] Yes, that, but it’s more than that, man. You and me and Dad. I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again. [Dean, we are a family. I’d do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before.] They could be. (24:04)

Sam—

What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I’d sleep for a month. Go back to school, just be a person again. (23:42)

Dean, we are a family. I’d do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before. [Dean: They could be.] I don’t want them to be. I’m not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you’re gonna have to let me go my own way. (25:02)

Misc—

[Sam: Go to hell.] Meg: Baby, I’m already there. (30:22)

17. HELL HOUSE

Dean—

People believe in Santa Clause. How come I’m not getting hooked up every Christmas? [Sam: ‘Cause you’re a bad person.] (27:01)

Sam—

Man, we’re not kids anymore, Dean. We’re not gonna start that crap up again. [Dean: Start what up?] That prank stuff. It’s stupid, and it always escalates. (04:24)

Kind of makes you wonder—of all the things we hunted, how many existed just ‘cause people believed in them? (37:17)

18. SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

Dean—

[Sam: What makes you so sure?] Well, because I’m the oldest, which means I’m always right. [No it doesn’t.] It totally does. (03:38)

Listen to me. I can promise you that this is not your fault, okay? [Michael: It’s my job to look after him.] (20:53)

I know how you feel, I’m a big brother, too. But you got to go easy on your mom right now, okay? (21:24)

Dad did not send me here to walk away. [Sam: Send you here? He didn’t send you here, he sent us here.] This isn’t about you, Sam, alright? I’m the one that screwed up. It’s my fault. There’s no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me. (25:35)

Dad never spoke about it again. I didn’t ask. But he, uh... he looked at me different, you know, which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order, and I didn’t listen, and I almost got you killed. [Sam: You were just a kid.] Don’t—don’t. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it. (29:26)

Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to. It’s okay, I won’t be mad. (33:57)

[Sam: Sometimes I wish that...] What? [I wish I could have that kind of innocence.] If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could, too. (40:05)

Sam—

Dean, I’m sorry. [Dean: For what?] You know. I’ve really given you a lot of crap for always following Dad’s orders, but I know why you do it. (34:39)

Sometimes I wish that... [Dean: What?] I wish I could have that kind of innocence. [If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could, too.] (40:05)

19. PROVENANCE

Dean—

I’m sure that this is about Jessica, right? Now, I don’t know what it’s like to lose somebody like that, but... I would think that she would want you to be happy. God forbid have fun once in a while. (20:47)

Sam—

I had a girlfriend. And she died. And my mom died, too. I don’t know, it’s like... it’s like I’m cursed or something. Like death just follows me around. Look, I’m not scared of much, but if I let myself have feelings for anybody— [Sarah: You’re scared they get hurt, too.] (30:39)

Misc—

Sarah: I know, losing somebody you love—it’s terrible. You shut yourself off. Believe me, I know. But when you shut out pain, you shut out everything else, too. (31:27)

20. DEAD MAN’S BLOOD

Dean—

He does what he does for a reason. [Sam: What reason?] Our job. There’s no time to argue. There’s no margin for error, alright? It’s just the way the old man runs things. [Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids, but not anymore, alright? Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you’re cool with just falling into line and letting him run the whole show?] If that’s what it takes. (14:51)

Sam—

I’m happy he’s okay, alright? I’m happy that we’re all working together. [Dean: Good.] It’s just the way he treats us like children. [Oh, God.] He barks orders at us, Dean. He expects us to follow him without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal. [He does what he does for a reason.] What reason? [Our job. There’s no time to argue. There’s no margin for error, alright? It’s just the way the old man runs things.] Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids, but not anymore, alright? Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you’re cool with just falling into line and letting him run the whole show? (14:51)

[John: You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam. You walked away!] You’re the one who said “Don’t come back,” Dad. You’re the one who closed that door, not me! You were just pissed off that you couldn’t control me anymore! (19:27)

[John: Sammy, it never occurred to me what you wanted. I just couldn’t accept the fact that you and me, we’re just different.] We’re not different. Not anymore. With what happened to Mom and Jess, we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone. (29:20)

Misc—

John: This is never the life that I wanted for you. [Sam: Then why’d you get so mad when I left?] You got to understand something. After your mother passed, all I saw was evil, everywhere. And all I cared about was keeping you boys alive. I wanted you prepared, ready. So somewhere along the line, I stopped being your father. I became your drill sergeant. So when you said that you wanted to go away to school, all I could think about, my only thought was that you were gonna be alone, vulnerable. (28:21)

21. SALVATION

Dean—

For the last time, what happened to them is not your fault. [Sam: Yeah, you’re right, it’s not my fault, but it’s my problem!] No, it’s not your problem, it’s our problem! (05:42)

You’re just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it? [Sam: Yeah. Yeah, you’re damn right I am.] Yeah, well, that’s not gonna happen—not as long as I’m around. [What the hell are you talking about, Dean? We’ve been searching for this demon our whole lives. It’s the only thing we’ve ever cared abut.] Sam, I want to waste it, I do, okay? But it’s not worth dying over. [What?] I mean it. If hunting this demon means you getting yourself killed, then I hope we never find the damn thing. [That thing killed Jess. That thing killed Mom,] You said yourself once that no matter what we do, they’re gone. And they’re never coming back. [Don’t you say that! Don’t you—not after all this, don’t you say that.] Sam, look. The three of us, that’s all we have. And it’s all I have. Sometimes I feel like I’m barely holding it together, man. Without you or Dad.... (37:51)

Sam—

So Mom’s death, Jessica—it’s all because of me? [Dean: We don’t know that, Sam.] Oh really? ‘Cause I’d say we’re pretty damn sure, Dean! [For the last time, what happened to them is not your fault.] Yeah, you’re right, it’s not my fault, but it’s my problem! (05:34)

Misc—

John: I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home. I want Mary alive. I just want this to be over. (21:10)

22. DEVIL’S TRAP

Dean—

You know that guy I shot? There was a person in there. [Sam: You didn’t have a choice, Dean.] I know. That’s not what bothers me. [Then what does?] Killing that guy, killing Meg... I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t even flinch. For you or Dad, the things I’m willing to do or kill, it’s just... it scares me sometimes. [Azazel!John: It shouldn’t. You did good.] You’re not mad? [For what?] Using a bullet. [Mad? I’m proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you, you watch out for this family. You always have.] (29:41)

Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh? ‘Cause I really can’t stand the monologuing. [Azazel: Funny, but that’s all part of your M.O., isn’t it? Mask all that nasty pain, mask the truth.] Oh yeah? What’s that? [You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is, they don’t need you. Not like you need them. Sam—he’s clearly John’s favorite. Even when they fight, it’s more concern than he’s ever shown you.] (36:52)

Sam—

[Dean: Well, you and Dad are a lot more alike than I thought, you know that? You both can’t wait to sacrifice yourself for this thing. But you know what? I’m gonna be the one to bury you. You’re selfish, you know that? You don’t care about anything but revenge.] (19:24)

Misc—

Azazel: He’s gonna tear you apart. He’s gonna taste the iron in your blood. [Dean: Let him go, or I swear to God—] What? What are you and God gonna do? (35:09)

#finally posting this 😜#tagging the ppl who said they'd be interested!!#lukeskysaunter #ijaazat #let me know if you want to be removed from/added to the tag list for future posts like this :)#spn #supernatural #ej.pdf #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn season 1 #spn season one #spn quotes

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deans-baby-momma · 4 years ago

Text

Wounded Hearts 6

Nebraska June 1997 Dean's POV

After Sam tells Dad how to kill the kitsune and I give him some pointers on how to talk to girls, Dad and I go to the bait and tackle shop on Main Street to see about getting some type of weapon to stab this thing through the heart with. Of course we have to mislead the salesman and tell him some elaborate tale.

Listening to Dad talk about a father/son fishing trip makes me wish it were true. That my father and I are taking off to some lake to relax and enjoy nature was fact and not just some conceived story so that questions won’t be raised when we ask about knives that can cut through flesh and bone.

The man behind the counter doesn’t even bat an eye as he shows us his stock of hunting and fishing blades. I immediately set my eyes on a bowie knife with a distressed wooden handle and a nice shiny blade.

I can’t wait to sink it into the heart of the monster. Dad picks a much smaller but still just as deadly knife and after paying for them with a fake credit card, we head back to the motel to change.

When Dad and I get back to the room, Sammy isn’t there. About the time I pull my phone out to call the pipsqueak he crashes through the door, out of breath. Dad is on him in an instant.

“Where the hell you been boy?”

“I know where the kitsune is,” Sam says, out of breath.

Dad and I jump into action and in no time at all, the three of us are in the car with Sammy giving directions from my usual place, shotgun..

We pull up to this cottage-style house and Sam tells us this is where he followed the monster to.

“What were thinking son?” Dad says as we both produce bowie knives to take it out. “It could have noticed you and made you its next victim.”

“Nah,” Sam answers with a smile. “I’m a Winchester. I’m good at staying hidden.” I got to say, I’m proud of him. He not only found out what we were dealing with, but how to kill it and it’s lair. All while Dad and I have been running around oblivious.

“Well, you stay here. Let Dean and I go in and deal with this animal,” Dad says and we both step out of the Impala. We hesitantly walk toward the house and Dad motions for me to get behind him.

As we near the door, we both notice drops of blood trailing down the steps. I look up at Dad, wondering what we are going to be bursting in to. Did it bring a victim back here and is inside right this minute, draining them of their bodily fluids?

Dad reaches out and turns the knob and the door silently opens. Right there in the kitchen of the house is the body of a woman. But upon closer inspection, I can tell this isn’t just any woman. This is the kitsune, the monster we’ve been hunting. Her nails are long and darkened and her face is contorted. There is a definite knife wound through her torso; someone had already beat us to the punchline.

“Well, I guess our job has been done for us,” I say after Dad checks the rest of the house for any other people, victims or monsters.

“Only thing left to do is dispose of the body,” Dad tells me. “Look for salt, lots of salt. Like a canister of it. Then go to the car and get the gas can out of the trunk. Hurry Dean.”

I begin going through cabinets until I find a container clearly marked salt as Dad drags the body through the house and into the backyard. Getting the can from the car, Sammy and I follow behind to see him place her toward the end of the lawn and hand him the salt.

After covering the deceased with the condiment and the gasoline, Dad pulls out a book of matches and tears one off. With a flick of his wrist, the match lights and he throws the burning stick onto the doused corpse and we watch as it goes up in flames.

While the remains burn Dad looks perplexed. I know he is thinking the same thing I am. ‘Is there another hunter in town? Did they gank the bitch?’

“Sammy?” I say, getting my little brother’s attention. He is staring intently at the fire. “When you were following her, did you see anyone else doing the same? Anyone who looked like they were taking a special interest in this particular person?”

He just shakes his head and turns back to the blaze. I can’t blame him though, it’s good to see all your hard work be fulfilled.

After burying what is left of the kitsune, we climb back into the car-me in shotgun and Sammy in the backseat- off to the next hunt.

We’ve been on the roads for hours! The sun sat over the horizon and now the moon is high in the sky, lighting up the highway. Sammy is passed out in the backseat and I’m leaned up against the door with a jacket draped over my shoulders and chest. I’m so sleepy that my eyes are burning but I know if I succumb to it, I’ll just be tormented with dreams of her.

Rebecca has visited me every night after I close my eyes. Dreams of her laughing at my corny jokes, hugging up to my side when she got scared during All Saints Day, to her eyes as I made love to her the day before Dad showed up to whisk us away again. Damn, I miss her!

And it wasn’t just because she was the first girl I had been with intimately; no, I really think in those few hours getting to know her I had begun to fall for her.

I desperately want to go back to Fairfax to see her again. And to find out what went wrong; why she ignored me the morning after we were together.

About the time I am ready to just go to sleep and get it over with, Dad’s phone begins to ring. I straighten up and listen as he answers. Hearing one side of a conversation makes it hard to determine what is being said on the other end but from the way Dad is talking I have deduced that it’s Pastor Jim calling. Pastor Jim Murphy has been a friend of Dad’s for as long as I can remember. Dad had began leaving us in the pastor’s care after a spirit had almost taken Sammy’s life. But now I am old enough to protect my brother and we don’t go to his place that often anymore. In fact I don’t think we’ve seen the good pastor for at least a year.

I like Pastor Jim, I do and I appreciate all the times he watched us but he was too religious for my taste. For someone who has seen and fought the things he has, the man is still spiritual and believes in God and Heaven. I much preferred going to Uncle Bobby’s up in Sioux Falls. He had a junkyard full of old demolished cars and he let me have a hand at fixing any of them up. It was fun trying to figure out what made a vehicle run. And he let Sammy be a kid, running around and just playing; not worrying about what is out there that aim to do us harm.

Dad hangs up and pulls to the side of the road. When the car is stopped Dad looks at me. “You awake son?”

“Yea. What’s up Dad? That was Pastor Jim, right?”

“Jim is having a problem with an exorcism,” Dad explains. “Apparently the entity isn’t wanting to leave the body. He’s asked for my help. We’re right outside Blue Earth now. I want you to drop me off at Jim’s and then hightail it to Bobby’s.”

“Why?” I ask, confused to why Dad isn’t letting me go with him.

“Because Dean, I said so and that’s final. You understand?”

“Yes sir!”

After dropping Dad off at the end of Pastor Jim’s driveway, I climb behind the wheel of the Impala and drive off. Once I am far away enough that I know Dad won’t hear, I lay down on the throttle and soar down the deserted highway.

“Oh Baby! Listen to you purr. One day you will be mine,” I promise with a smile. I have always loved this car and the power it held under its hood.

Dad must have called Bobby because as I pull up, the cranky old man is sitting in one of the rockers on his porch, waiting. He helps me get Sammy into the house and into a bedroom upstairs before we congregate to the kitchen. Bobby reaches into the fridge, pulling out two beers. Popping the caps off of both of them, he hands me one that I eagerly accept. I love this man!

“So, John tells me you helped on this last hunt,” Bobby says after taking a swig. “A kit-kitsune?”

“Yea,” I answer, mimicking him and blanching at the bitter beverage, earning a chuckle from the older man. “A kitsune. Vile creature that thing was. They feed on brains to stay alive. This one though, it ain’t alive no more. It was ganked and salted and burned.”

“Good job, son.”

After we finish our drinks, Bobby tells me to head on up and get some sleep, Dad will be by tomorrow afternoon to pick us up. I climb the stairs to head to bed but I’m not going to sleep. I know what awaits me in my dreams and I don’t want to remember Rebecca Quentin just now. It still hurts too much. I miss her, yea but the memories are torture.

@tftumblin @spnbaby-67 @markofdean79 @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @travelingriversideblues-x @akshi8278 @keymology @hoboal87 @squirrelnotsam @natura1phenomenon @drakelover78 @larajadeschmidt13 @blacktithe7 @atc74 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @vicariouslythruspn @sandlee44 @mogaruke @deanwanddamons @supraveng @deandreamernp @lyarr24

#dean winchester #john winchester #sam winchester #rebecca quentin #wounded hearts #past haunts sequel #smut #fluff #angst #supernatural #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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iflostreturntosteverogers · 4 years ago

Text

I Promise

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam, John, Azazel, Bobby (Mentioned), Callum (OMC Mentioned), Grace (OFC Mentioned)

Warnings: Weechesters, John’s an ass, Fluff, Angst, Character Death

A/N: Sam is about 3-4 years old and Dean around 7-8 years old in this. This is the longest fic I’ve ever written with 2,454 words.

Header by: @sorenmarie87

Beta’d by: @cloverhighfive and @mariekoukie6661

No one raised your blood pressure like John Winchester. He was always such an arrogant prick when he dropped his boys off at your house. You kept Dean and Sam as a favor to Bobby, so he could keep John from doing something stupid and because you loved them. They needed some normalcy and love in their chaotic lives.

You had been mentally preparing yourself to deal with him after Bobby had called to tell you the boys were coming your way and just be ready because John was already in a mood. “A mood,” You snorted. “When isn’t he in a mood?” You made one last pass through the house, double-checking you had removed anything the boys could get in. You’d have to go to the store for food, but you didn’t mind taking them with you. They were good kids.

John’s Impala rumbled down your street, making you groan. Here we go. You give him a moment to park before you open the door in and lean on the frame. “Hi, boys!” You smile and wave at Sam and Dean, climbing out of the car. Sam grins, and all but tackles your legs. “Hi, Ms. Y/N.” Dean smiles as he walks up with his bag over his shoulder. He grabs Sam’s hand and goes inside. You watch them race up the stairs to your bedroom. Probably to jump on your bed. You think to yourself. The trunk of the impala slams, startling you.

“Princess.” John nods at you, a smirk on his lips.

“Winchester.”

“What? I don’t get a smile and peppy hello like my boys do?” He tosses Sam’s bag at you, chuckling as you almost miss it.

“I like your children, you not so much,” you quip, pulling the strap over your shoulder.

“I’m hurt, princess,” he says, placing his hand over his heart. “And here I thought you loved me. You’re always so warm and friendly.” You roll your eyes and flip him off.

“Not your princess, Winchester.”

“You sure do act like one.” John crosses his arms and leans against the impala, a smug look on his face.

“Excuse me?! What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you sit here in your cushy little house, living off your dead husband’s money and letting Bobby do all the dirty work in finding who killed him and your kid.” You push off the doorframe and stomp down the porch stairs to be face to face with the man. Without thinking, you slap him as hard as you can, the sound echoing.

“First off, get your fucking facts straight! I never asked Bobby to do that. Second, I work my ass off to pay for my shit. I don’t need to forge credit cards or have aliases. Third, don’t you ever mention Callum and Grace. Ever. At least I learned to cope and live a normal life instead of dragging two young boys into the hunting business on a revenge mission. Get the hell off my property.” You don’t look at him as you turn and walk back into your house. Closing the door, you sink to the floor.

“Having fun?” You grin as Sam and Dean freeze, pillows poised to hit each other.

“We’re playing pirates,” Dean tells you, climbing down from your bed. “These are our swords!” His eyes are bright as he explains their game. The boys giggle when you tell them you’ll be the beautiful princess they’re fighting over.

“You need a cwown, Pwincess Y/N,” Sam tells you.

“You’re absolutely right, Captain Smelly Feet, and I think I have just the thing!” You walk over to your dresser, opening the locked jewelry box on top and revealing a sparkling tiara. You place it on your head and turn towards the boys. “What do you think?” Dean’s mouth drops open in shock.

“Where did you get that?”

“I got to be a princess for a day a long time ago, and they let me keep my crown.”

“Cool!” Dean jumps back up on the bed. “The princess is mine, Smelly Feet! You can’t have her!” Sam screwed his face up into something that was probably supposed to be mean and scary but just looked adorable to you.

“Noooo! I’ll save you from Captain Gween Toes, Pwincess!” Sam wails Dean with a pillow. Dean pretends to fall on the mattress, holding his side.

“You’ve won this time, Smelly Feet. Remember me, Princess. Bleh.” You giggle at his fake death sound and turn to the 4-year-old standing proudly above his brother.

“You did it, Captain Smelly Feet. You defeated Green Toes and saved me. However, will I repay you?” Sam grins as you pick him up and swing him around. “Oh, I know! How about a kiss?” He squeals when you blow a raspberry against his cheek.

“‘Top! ‘Top!” Sam pushes your face away from his, giggling.

“Well, I hate to stop all the fun, but we have to go to the store or we’re gonna starve to death.” You gently put Sam down and fall to the floor with your hand on your forehead. “So hungry, not gonna make it.” Dean laughs at your dramatics and whispers something to Sam. Sam nods with a mischievous grin on his face.

“I’ll save you!” Sam yells, before jumping on top of you.

Sam tugs at your sleeve from the seat in the shopping cart, pulling you down to his level. “Bean likes bacon and eggs and waffles for bweakfast, but Dad never makes them for us. He just buys ceweal because it doesn’t have to be cooked.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes and say something nasty about their father.

“You know what? I think eggs, bacon, and waffles are great for breakfast.” You right yourself and smile at the small boy. “What do we want for dinner? Dean, what’s something you want?” Dean looks a little startled at your question. Of course, John never asks what the boys want. It’s always a matter of convenience.

“Can we do burgers?” His eyes light up when you nod your head, and he hugs your waist. “You’re the best.”

Sam sits on the counter, watching you teach Dean how to make burgers. “The first rule of cooking, wash your hands. Did you wash your hands?”

“Yep, smell.” Dean smiles and holds his hands up to you. You lean in and sniff, the smell of Irish Spring prevalent on his hands.

“Good job. Sammy, what about you?” Sam smiles and nods his head.

“I helped him,” Dean says proudly.

“Okay, we’re going to make the sauce before we cook the burgers. I laid everything out for you while you washed your hands. The little cup is mayo and the measuring spoons have sriracha, honey, lemon juice, and garlic in them. Dump all that in and stir it up.” Stepping back, you watch as Dean dumps everything into the glass bowl you had set out before handing Sam the spoon to stir it up.

“All done!” Sam shouts, tipping the bowl forward for you to inspect their work.

“That’s perfect! You can set that to the side until we finish the rest of it.” You bend down and pull a cast-iron skillet out of the cold oven. “This is your new best friend for cooking, boys. A cast-iron skillet. They’re heavy, and you have to take good care of them, but they will last a long time and give your food good flavor.”

“And you can hit monsters with it and hurt them!” Dean pipes up, a proud smile on his face.

“That’s right,” you return his smile, but the fact that he has to know that breaks your heart. Dean hops up onto the counter on your right, and Sam scoots closer on your left to watch. You turn the stove eye on medium-low heat and pour a small amount of oil into the pan. “We have to let the pan and oil heat up before we can start cooking.”

Dean’s eyes are huge as he watches you plate burgers. “They’re beautiful,” he mumbles.

The boys hop off the counter and help you carry the plates to the table. Sam takes small, careful steps, his little tongue poking out as he concentrates.

“As much as you love food, Dean, you should be a chef when you grow up.” Dean looks up at you curiously, like the thought had never crossed his mind. It probably hadn’t, all the kid knew was hunting. Damn John.

“Do you really think I could be a chef?”

“Of course, I do! You can be anything you want. You’re a smart little boy.” Dean blushes and takes a bite of his burger.

“This is so good! You were right; the fried egg and bacon make it even better than regular burgers!”

“After we eat, do you guys wanna watch a movie? I have Scooby-Doo.”

“YES!” The boys both yell excitement, making you laugh.

You walk through the house, checking that everything is turned off and locked up. Sam had fallen asleep during their movie, and Dean hadn’t been far behind. You hadn’t wanted to disturb them when they looked so peaceful, so you let them stay in your bed for the night.

As you make your way back upstairs, you hear glass shattering. “Shit,” you whisper, hurrying to the boys. They’re both still sound asleep. You shake Dean awake and pick Sam up from the bed. “Dean, listen to me, baby. You gotta come with me and be quiet, okay?” He nods, still rubbing at his eyes and trying to wake up. You can hear loud voices and footsteps coming from downstairs. You have to hurry.

Leading Dean into the spare bedroom you pull a panel away from the wall of the closet. “Dean, go in there.” He follows your orders and you lay Sam down next to him, stroking his hair before you lean over and kiss Dean on the forehead. “You’ll be safe, I promise.”

“Don’t go, Y/N. Hide with us.” Dean’s eyes shine, his little voice trembling. It breaks your heart.

“Baby, I can’t, that space is too small. Everything’s going to be okay. I love you, Dean and I love Sammy, too. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Dean watches as you close the panel, leaving him and Sam in darkness. He can hear the voices coming from downstairs and each banging footstep sends a shiver through him. “Please be safe. Please be safe.” He whispers to himself over and over, a silent prayer for you. You hadn’t told him to watch out for Sammy, hadn’t ordered him to be brave. You told him how much you loved him and that everything would be okay. A tear slips down Dean’s cheek as he lays down next to Sam and closes his eyes tightly.

“Wanna tell me why you’re in my house?” You swing your arm around the first man you see, holding a knife to his throat. He freezes, calculating his next move.

He slams all of his weight backward into a wall, knocking the breath out of you but you hang onto the knife. “Stupid bitch,” he spits at you and reaches up to wipe at a trickle of blood on his face. You must have cut him when you hit the wall. You take advantage of him being distracted and launch yourself into him. He stumbles back and falls on his ass, his head bouncing off the floor. You move past him only to be met with a gun to your face.

“I don’t think so,” a familiar voice says, coming from around the corner. Your stomach drops when yellow eyes meet yours.

“Azazel.”

“The one and only. It’s been a while, Y/N.” His smile is arrogant, taunting. “Look, I’m sorry about your old man and kid. More so about the kid. I needed her.” You ball your fists at your side, anger rippling through you. “I’m here because a little demon told me you had the Winchester brats.”

“You’re too late actually. I put them on a bus to Sioux Falls a few hours ago.” You willed yourself to stay calm, to look him in the eyes, and give no indication of a lie. He growls and wraps his hand around your throat.

“What a pity.” You scream as pain erupts through your body. Blood trickles down the side of your mouth. You defiantly spit in Azazel’s face.

“Fuck you.”

Dean hears your scream and slams his hands against his ears. “No, please no.” Sam rouses and mumbles your name. Dean pulls him into his lap. “Shh, we have to be quiet. Okay, Sammy? It’s going to be okay.” Sam whimpers but nods his head.

They stay that way for a while, waiting for you to come back for them. Dean silently rocks Sam in his lap, occasionally humming a song to him in the dark crawl space. “You stay here. I’m going to look around.”

“No, Bean, don’t go!” Sam grabs onto Dean’s sleeve.

“Sammy, stay here. I’ll be back. I swear.” Dean moves the heavy panel and crawls out, the light coming from the window making him squint. He listens at the top of the steps for the voice and footsteps from earlier, but all he hears is silence. The silence scares him more.

He tiptoes down the stairs, peeking around the corner into the kitchen. You’re there on the floor, not moving. “Y/N?!” Dean shouts and races to you. His hands hover over you, unsure of what to do. “Y/N, please. You promised,” he chokes on the last word, a sob bubbling up.

“Dean?” You rasp out his name and reach a weak hand up to his face. “It’s okay, baby.”

“It’s not okay!” He shouts. You guide his head down to lay on your stomach and run your fingers through his hair.

“You��re gonna grow up and do amazing things, Dean. You are so smart and so good. I love you so much.” You wince as you try to breathe. Dean can hear how faint your pulse is becoming, how shallow your breaths are.

“Please, don’t leave me, Y/N. Please,” Dean cries.

“Shh, baby, listen to me. Go in the library, the number for your dad’s motel is there. Call him and then take Sammy to my room and watch Scooby-Doo until he comes. I love you both, Dean so very much. Now go.” He crawls up and kisses your cheek.

“We love you, too.” He does as he’s told, trying his best to get himself together.

He dials the number you had written down in a notebook on your desk.

“Hello?”

“Dad? Something’s happened.”

Tags: @fictionalabyss, @leave-me-2-rot-among-the-flowers, @hobby27

#weechesters #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #john winchester #bobby singer #azazel #reader insert #supernatural #angst #fluff #tw death

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atlafan · 4 years ago

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sorry if it’s too much but can you give advice for someone that’s graduating college soon? how do we prepare for what’s too cold? like in terms of credit, jobs, resumes, apt lookinh? entering the real adult world? how was your experience? pls and thank you!!!!

First things first, start making small monthly payments to your student loans. Even if it’s just $20 a month, start getting used to that monthly bill, especially before your interest kicks in.

Find your schools career development office, or go to your schools alumni office, talk to your faculty advisor. Tell them what you want to do. All of them should have contacts/connections. What’s your major? Where are you from? I could help further if I know more.

I was really lucky. I had been working in my schools marketing and creative services department for a year doing social media/video work. They offered me a full time admin position. I also had been with my bf for five months, and before I graduated and knew I would be working in the area, he asked me to move in the with him. My advice while you’re job hunting though is get the job first, and then ask about hosing in the area. The company might leads. You could always stay at hote before finding a permanent residence.

Now, when you’re applying for jobs, apply for anything you want to do. Dont worry too much about the qualifications. Make sure your resume and cover letter are specifically crusted towards the job you’re applying for. Use language from the job description in both. Also, on your resume, only put relevant work experience. I was a waitress for 8 years, and I’ve never put that on a professional resume. Wait to mention something like that in an interview.

Before going for an interview, make sure you do your research on the company. What does their site look like? Who works there? Stuff like that. The interview is a two way street. Bring a list of questions. How’s employee satisfaction? Why did the position become open? Why did the previous person leave? What are the benefits like? How’s the work-life balance? Also know that you don’t have to disclose any personal medical information. You can save that for HR after you get hired.

For credit, you can build good credit by paying your student loans monthly. Build credit by paying your credit card off. I had really great credit after I graduated because I always paid my credit card bill, even if it was just the minimum amount. Basically paying all your bills on time helps with credit.

I’m really glad I work at the university I do. Even though I was entering this new world, I had a comfortable familiarity. I got lucky, a month into my admin position I got offered the job of assistant director for annual giving. I did that for over a year. I hated it. Not at first, but there was a supervisor change and I became miserable. Money doesn’t buy happiness if you hate what you do every day. I’ve been an academic advisor for two years and I absolutely love it. I love working with people and helping them. I also love teaching.

Ask about benefits. If you can stay on your parents health insurance, do that. I’m still on my dads, and I’m riding that wave. See if they have tuition benefits, I was able to get my masters for less than $5000. See if they have gym benefits, vision, dental. When you get hired, ask yourself colleagues about their insurance plans. As about PTO, and ask how that works if you’re salaried or hourly.

Make time for yourself, and go easy on yourself. You had the same routine your entire life and all of a sudden it changes. All of a sudden you can’t go to the beach on a Wednesday during the summer because you’re working. All of a sudden your understand why your dad would come home enraged and yell about dishes in the sink. It’s a time for growth. Make sure to treat yourself. Go out and have fun. Be with friends.

That’s all I can think of for now, I hope this helped!

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1-800-sunset · 5 years ago

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Okay I got a college Dabihawks quirkless AU ft. Trans Keigo

Keigo is just another broke college student who made it in on a scholarship. Even though he was on a scholarship, living in an apartment with his best friend Rumi was hard. Not to mention Testerone shots weren’t cheap. Thankfully Rumi’s family has always had his back. When they were still in high school, it was thanks to them that he was able to get top surgery and get his name changed. His home life was pretty tough; his mom and dad were both terrible people. His dad was always in and out of jail and when he was home he would hurt his mom and him. But his mom wasn’t any better; she also took out her anger on him and would abuse substances. In eighth grade he was kicked out of the house when his mom went through his phone and found out he was Trans. Rumi’s family swooped in so quickly to take him under their custody. It’s not like either of his parents cared enough to fight them in a custody battle. Rumi had always been there for him. The Usagiyamas offered to pay for his college tuition but Keigo couldn’t let them do that so in High School he worked his butt off to go on a scholarship. Sure he was intelligent but he also put in the wok to earn what he wanted. The college he attended had one of those student program jobs which he gladly accepted the one where he got to work in the library. It just made sense to him since he was an English major.

His favorite class had to be poetry. Sure he loved to read novels and add little notes in the margins but he has always felt comfort in poetry. Poetry was what kept him alive on those dark days in his parents’ old trailer. But it was sometimes hard to focus in that class because there was a guy who sat behind him in the next aisle that was always staring at him. He went by the name Dabi, whenever the teacher tried to say his name he would always cut her off. Dabi dressed like your stereotypical delinquent, always sporting ripped jeans and leather jacket. His nose, ears, and mouth pierced, tattoos that ran down his neck and arms and not to mention his hair was obviously dyed black. On the days Keigo really wasn’t having it he would turn around and send him a death glare as a way to tell him to cut it out. Dabi unfazed would just smirk back at him, earning an eye roll from Keigo who clearly gave up.

If the staring in class wasn’t enough Dabi eventually found out that Keigo’s worked in the library and soon started to show up there to the dismay of Keigo. This guy sure did like to bother him. Rumi after telling her what was going on, laughed and said Dabi was probably trying to get with him. Keigo only laughed and threw his pillow at her. No way a guy like him was trying to get with Keigo. One day Keigo got sick and couldn’t make it to his job. But Rumi needed to meet up with a partner to work on a project in the library. There she found Dabi who seemed like he was looking for someone. Just from the description that Keigo gave her, she was able to figure out that he was Dabi. So she decided to help the guy out a little. She sat across from him, and he looked up at her in a way that told her to scram. She just smirked.

“Keigo’s not here today. He got sick yesterday and it’s taken him awhile to recover.”

His blue eyes widened in surprise because he didn’t expect her to know why he was here.

“The name’s Rumi. I’m his sister.” She said while extending her hand to him which he reluctantly shook. She knew that he was questioning their relation since they looked nothing alike.

“Dabi. Now why are you telling me this?”

“Look Dabi, Keigo may be obvious but I am not. I know what you are trying to do.”

Her suspicions were correct in the way that his cheeks flushed and diverted his eyes.

“Normally I would threaten to rip you apart but I decided I was gonna take pity on you and give you a hand.” His eyes lit up in a way that reminded her of a puppy. Oh yes he may be just what Keigo needs.

“Keigo loves sweets. Sugar is his favorite thing in the world.That bastard has the fastest metabolism I have ever seen; he could eat desserts for days without gaining a single pound. If you want to get to his heart go through his stomach. Bring him poetry god he loves poetry more than life itself.” Rumi said with a soft look in her eye. She got up from her seat and before walking away Dabi spoke.

“How do you know if you can trust me.”

“I don’t.”

“.... thank you” was all Dabi could mutter, earning a smile from Rumi.

Dabi decided to take Rumi’s advice and started to bring Keigo sweets before their class started. Keigo was surprised to say the least that Dabi was giving him food but he wasn’t going to turn away sugar and would accept it. Making Dabi smile at him. He sure was confused to why he was doing this but hey free food is free food. On the days he worked. Dabi would stop with the whole staring at him from afar and snarky remarks when checking out books. Instead he would lean over and talk to him about their class and discuss their different analyses. Turns out Dabi had some pretty solid points. Dabi would sometimes even slide a poetry book over to him and every time he would try and return it he would refuse insisting Keigo keep it. Keigo’s reaction would always be to smile and look down at the floor as he hugged the book. Dabi’s heart would flutter at his smile only making him want to bring it out even more. One night when Keigo was leaving work Dabi decided to ask him if he would want to go to a local cafe. Keigo originally said no but his stomach eventually gave in. Dabi was ecstatic and they ate together. It was during this time that Dabi realized how much smaller Keigo was compared to him.This became their routine. Keigo would always try to fight him on paying the bill but Dabi would always win. He used his card so damn often that Keigo was definitely worried for his credit score. Dabi would only give him a lopsided smile and assure him that it was fine.

Rumi one night asks him how was his date with Dabi in which he denies it is a date. But the thought stays in his head and he can’t help but think were all those trips to eat were dates. The next day he doesn’t even look at Dabi; he's too caught up in his own mind. This stresses Dabi the fuck out because he doesn’t know if he accidentally did something to make the blond mad at him. So at Keigo’s job he asks if he did something wrong. Keigo really can’t bring himself to lie to the guy he really grew to like.

“Dabi… were all those trips to go eat together dates?” He asked not to look at him jut in case he was wrong he wouldn’t have to see the rejection.

Dabi sheepishly rubbed his neck debating whether or not to tell the truth.

“Well um uh yes…”

“Oh…” blush rising on both their faces.

“Look Keigo, I really like you and I want to continue to go on those kinds of dates. But if you don’t I um… understand.” He was able to push out laying it all on the line.

“ I want to.. I mean yes I will go on more dates with you.” Keigo was able to say as the blush on his face grew darker. Dabi’s entire face lit up in happiness.

They start to date each other doing normal things aside from eating out. Dabi goes out of his way to shower Keigo with both gifts. Dabi really liked to show his affection physically in the forms of hugging and kissing. But sometimes they would start to get frisky which would always freak him out because he hasn’t told Dabi he was trans. He was mostly afraid. He really liked Dabi but he was so afraid of him breaking up with him. Dabi never pushed him to tell him what was wrong and would drop it, opting to hold him instead. One instance he decides to tell him the truth, he expected him to maybe yell at him in betrayal but instead he got a kiss. Dabi reassured him that he still liked him even if he was trans. Things start to get easier after that and Dabi even begins to help buy his testosterone shots, even bringing him cookies as a treat to make him feel better.

Eventually they talk about their childhoods. When Keigo tells him, he has to physically stop Dabi from getting up to try and hunt his garbage parents down. He explains how he doesn’t care about them anymore and the Usagiyamas are his true family. Dabi reveals that he is actually Touya Todoroki, son of Enji Todoroki, a well known billionaire. His dad was a terrible person, Dabi told Keigo of all the things he did to his family like the physical, emotional and mental abuse they had to endure. This drove them apart. After his mom finally divorced his dad, he was legally obligated to give all members of his family a generous amount of money per month. Dabi used his on his college tuition and then later used it to shower his boyfriend with sweets and gifts. Dabi found it hard to talk with his family without feeling overwhelmed with bitter resentment for his dad. That night they just hold each other not wanting to let go.

During winter break Keigo decides to invite Dabi to celebrate Christmas with him and Rumi’s family. Dabi was reluctant but eventually gave in. The Usagiyamas were one of the nicest people Dabi has ever met and he was glad that they were able to care for Keigo for all these years. Rumi’s parents take a liking to him and unofficially make him a part of their family. It’s after this trip that Dabi realizes he misses his family. With Keigo by his side he reaches out to them and they decide to get together for New Year’s. Keigo offers him a gentle squeeze of his hand when that day arrives and they are in front of his sister’s door. He looks into Keigo’s golden eyes and gives him a nervous smile. Everything was going to be okay.

#dabihawks #bnha takami keigo #bhna hawks #bnha dabi #takami keigo #dabi #Dabihawks college au #trans hawks #trans keigo takami

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 5 years ago

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Telekinesis

Summary: a reddie x daughter where she has powers? maybe that when IT died his powers went to her in the form of like maybe telekinesis or sum and she tells them when all the losers are together and they don’t believe her at first so she shows them? kinda lame but i thought it’d be cool

Another book, another disappointment, another opportunity wasted. Mike’s library was empty, both from it being after-hours as it being located in Derry, and the only light Rachel has is the obstructed street lights, eluding to an eerie feeling of impending doom and death, a real life horror movie.

The lights inside the building had to be turned off, because Rachel’s parents, Eddie and Richie, were not allowed to have any clue that she’s in here in the first place. Unlike last time she snuck into the place and got nabbed on by the woman taking over Mike’s job while he’s away on holidays, she was now determined to emerge herself in every book hidden in the smallest gap until she found a solution to her problem.

See, coming to Derry, roughly two years ago now, had unveiled a lot of things about her dads. Those nights as a child fearfully disclosing that a monster housed under her bed, a little child’s imagination, but her dads reacted so fierce without them assimilating why suddenly made a lot more sense. Their monster, a clown hellbent on destroying their lives and everything they had built, using incomprehensible powers and abilities to do so, defeated on its own turve, wasted away on the perspective that no one wasn’t afraid of it any longer, withered away with one last trick up its sleeve. A last gift to the youngest member of the losers club.

Her hands curl around the pages with upmost precision, attentive not to rip the age-old pages from the rug. The typing circulates, switching letters in front of her until the words all lose their meaning and Rachel rests her eyes for a brief second. She’s been at it for hours, exchanging book after book, futile. The pages provided no more research then the internet had, the only search result being that of movies with ‘mutant powers’, or stories about the mentally deranged.

Rachel yells out in frustration, and the current book she’s devouring soars across the room, the book disintegrating and several pages scattering around.

‘Ow come on. But when I actually try to make something happen you don’t do anything.’

Discovering you have supernatural abilities, more specifically telekinesis in her case, is not as cracked up as the movies portray it, Rachel’s disclosing herself. After leaving Derry she didn’t even notice something off about her, hyped up on adrenaline, the real shock only showed when she dropped a photo frame and extended her hand, stopping it midair without touching the picture in any way.

She’d conjured the experience to a trick of the light, and paranoia embedded after Pennywise, but then the same thing occurred again but a few days later, a painting skidding from its nail in the wall and cracking the floor. The experience was bizarre, as Rachel vibrated with indignation the moment it happened, worked up on an assignment for school and as she reached for a pillow to muffle her screams of vexation, the painting bustled and sank down.

Then she knew for sure that something was going on. The first trip to Mike’s library, the only place Rachel could think off holding any of the answers she was desperate to find, forlorn as it might be, ended up unavailing, caught to fast to locate any books in the subject matter in the first place, but it made Rachel just more committed. So what if she’s technically not allowed to be in here? She’s sure that if she asked uncle Mike for his keys he would hand them over without a sliver of hesitation.

‘There has to be a book about this stuff right? How in the world did uncle Mike found the artifact from the 1800 if there was no book telling him where to go?’

Rachel sits up from her position on the floor, alleviating the strain on her legs, too unbothered and eager for information to keep going back and forth from the table to the shelf's and stretches, her joints popping and sliding back in place. She idly traces the spines of the ancient old books, pondering to herself about the titles.

She’d have to come back here someday, when she’s no longer pursued by the strange things she’s capable of doing out of the blue, because some of these books really peek her interest. But no book on the subject she’s looking for.

‘Okay please universe. You fucked me over enough already can you give me a break?’ If the universe is listening, it’s doing nothing but mocking her.

‘Rachel Maggie Kaspbrak-Tozier. What do you think you’re doing young lady? We told you to stay at the Inn while we cleaned up pops house. Now all the losers are are the hunt for you.’ Her dad’s low pitched voice criticized, belonging to a ticked off Eddie Kaspbrak, accompanied by Richie, of course Rachel can never only get in trouble with one parent, and Mike, the keys dangling from his hand.

Richie mounts the words; ‘Oeh someone’s in trouble’, face half pinched in stress and the other in pure and uninhabited mirth.

Fingers flipping her pops off, their own love languages, Eddie scowl turns up a notch, and Rachel abandons ship, changing her course and demonstrating her most conniving angel face.

Eddie and Richie near her, hugging her so tight her ribs creak, their labored breath only now picked up on by their daughter.

‘Don’t you ever’, Eddie threatens, dislodging himself away from their bear pile to survey Rachel with full conviction. ‘Do that to us again. Not anywhere, but especially not in Derry.’

Richie dots a kiss on her forehead, his arm capturing Eddie back into a clasp, the memory of Pennywise nearly swallowing his daughter whole tattooed in his brain.

‘What are you even doing in here? Don’t tell me my genes created someone who likes to learn? School stuff?’ Richie spits the words school like they leave a bad taste in his mouth, ‘Eddie, love of my life, did you have an affair on me?’

‘Richie focus, that’s so not the point. And no you idiot. I’d never do that to you.’

‘I’m hunting for a book’, Rachel informs, withholding part of truth as there’s no way she’s adding her problems on the pile of stress stacked upon Richie and Eddie’s lives.

Her pops trial only recently ended and her dad found a new job doing something he actually likes to do, and their lives are starting to clear up for once. Rachel was not about to add another card to the card house and watch it spring apart.

‘On what?’ Eddie asks suspiciously, one eyebrow creased as he observes his daughter, on the lookout for her telltale sign that’s she’s lying.

‘Witchcraft? It’s for school.’ Rachel trails off, her voice sounding questioningly to her own ears. Richie scrutinizes her, much more on guard and attentive then he gives himself credit for, but Mike, sickly sweet but a little tone deaf on the vibe in the room says; ‘Those books are upstairs in my special cabinet because they kept getting stolen, do you want me to go get them?’

Rachel’s flicks her eyes to the ceiling, grumbling under her breath with all the time that went to waste, then glancing back at Mike and kindly nodding her head. ‘That would be great, thank you uncle Mike.’

As he takes off to find the books, Richie and Eddie exchange puzzling peeks, doing their silent communication that drives Rachel crazy not being able to figure out what they’re saying.

‘Why would you need to write an assignment on witchcraft? Since when is that in the curriculum these days? Hey Eds we would have rocked that, we knew all about it.’ Richie inquires, excitingly jolting Eddie to go along with his story.

‘Since I got a new teacher who’s very interested in that stuff.’

‘Are you sure everything is okay? You’ve been acting weird for the past few weeks and I didn’t want to say anything or push you but I’m worried.’ Eddie asks, troubled trying to balance things in his life. He wants to keep prodding his daughter to know what’s wrong with her and to help her, but he’d rather die then turn out like his mother, and sometimes Eddie fears his lines are blurred.

‘Yeah, I’ve noticed it too’, Richie agrees, serious as the topic calls for it. ‘Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell us.’

‘No I can’t, you won’t believe me.’

‘Sweetheart, we murdered a clown eating little kids and feeding off their fears, there’s nothing in the world that you can say that will prevent us from believe you.’

‘Okay fair,’ Rachel trails off apprehensive still, ‘but I don’t want to force additional stress on you guys, we’ve already had so much of that lately.’

‘Little me, if this is about the trial I’m really fucking sorry for putting you through that, but hoeza’, he jazzed hands towards himself, ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never go anywhere either.’

Bursting into tears, Rachel inches closer to her pops and eases herself under his chin, her dad crams up against her side. ‘It’s not, but I’m really grateful for that pops. Promise you’ll believe me and won’t ship me off anywhere?’

‘What? Never. Nothing you’ll confess will ever make us regret you being born.’ Eddie says with vindication. ‘Absolutely nothing.’ The truth is Rachel is getting really tired of the secret she’s storing away, and she’s scared too. Terrified that someday she might accidentally hurt someone, or scared that she’s going to wake up one day and not perceive who she is.

‘I have telekinesis and I think it’s because of IT,’ she breathes out, tensing in her parents grasp as she waits for their reaction. It’s a peculiar statement to preach, but Rachel didn’t think her pops would flat out laugh at her, a reserved giggle that stops abruptly when Eddie mimes his lips shut.

‘What do you mean?’ Eddie asks cautiously.

‘You don’t believe me do you?’

‘It’s not about believing you sweetheart, it’s just where is this is all coming from? Wait, is this a prank you and Richie did to trick me? If so Pennywise is off limits so knock it off.’

‘Eds no-‘

‘No it’s not a prank, I’m serious.’ Rachel underscores, schlepping away from the both of them.

‘Bug, I don’t-‘

‘No, I’ll prove it.’

‘Okay’, Richie agrees trepidation, same as Eddie.

Rachel tries really hard, focusing all her energy and mind on levitating the same book she send flying across the room mere minutes ago, her fist balling and her face blushing in effort, but nothing occurs. Previous times this was the case too, it only happens when she’s focusing on something else, not the task at hand.

Richie snorts, assured that it’s a prank and he’s played by his own daughter, which usually wouldn’t be so far off, but this time it boils rage up under Rachels skin.

‘Stop laughing, I’ve been struggling with this for so long and all you do is laugh at me?’ Rachel grounds out, genuinely hurt that neither of her fathers take the time to listen to her.

Three things follow each other in rapid speed. The first is that Mike descends down the stairs, carrying two books, dustier than the town of Derry itself, and waving them around proudly. ‘I found them, I hope two is enough?’

The second is that the door to the library jingles, and the remaining pack of the losers walks in, and the third is the table starts vibrating, anger pulsing in Rachel’s veins having her focused on something else.

Eddie and Richie stare at the table in shock, their mouths agape as they switch to look between the table and their daughter.

‘Rachel?’

The table is ripped from the handles and jets over two shelf's of the library, landing right in front of the losers’ feet, all of them staring in bewilderment.

‘What the hell is going on in here?’

‘Mike, I think we’re going to need a lot more books.’

#reddie #reddie x daughter #my writing #Richie x Eddie #richie tozier imagine #eddie kaspbrak imagine #richie as a dad #eddie as a dad #richie as a parent #eddie as a parent #other losers are mentioned #mike hanlon

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jay-and-dean · 5 years ago

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I don’t need you Chapter 6 : Wild cat

Dean x reader

Summary : She’s a warrior, she’s a loner. Nothing can stop her, nothing ever had. She doesn’t need Dean, does she ?

This is a request by @magssteenkamp that I decided to turn to a serie, see the original request on the serie Masterlist.

Serie Warnings : Swearing (duh). Mention of death. Smut, probably all kind from rough to fluffy, I’ll precise in the chapters if there are specific warnings. Fluff. Angst of course.

Chapter warnings : Swearing. SMUT, a hint of Dom!Dean, kinda Brat/brat tamer vibe. Unprotected sex (You’re smarter than this). Horny Dean. Violence with a hint of cruelty. Mention of past murder and abuse.

Words : 3.2 k

Note : I’ll try to stick to the 3k rule, like for Rescue You

If everything goes as planned, you’ll get one chapter every wednesday (Thanks to @magssteenkamp, I call it WednesJay, lol. Sorry okay, I shut up).

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

*** I don’t need you MASTERLIST***

_________________________________

6. WILD CAT

Dean’s Pov

Living with a woman…

Living with Y/n.

No one warned me. Living with a girl, and a girl you want. I never knew that.

In my life, I lived with Sam, with my dad, I “lived” in Hell and Purgatory. And in my car for months. I have shared rooms with Cas, and occasionally with other hunter friends during hunts before Sam came back. And for one year, I lived with Lisa, but it was different. It was her house, she was my girlfriend and I was… depressed. And Lisa, she… She was not Y/n, she didn’t have that effect on me.

Now is very different. The bunker is my home for real, and Y/n… I have no idea why this woman makes me loose my mind like that. I want her. I crave her. And since I had her, it’s way worse, it’s unbearable... And now she’ everywhere.

She’s not invasive, not at all, she’s even discreet, and like I expected, very independent. Like a cat you only see when she needs to eat or walks in the same room as you… A cat you can’t touch because you can feel she’s still totally wild and has claws.

But she’s here. And every little thing brings me to the memory of her strong thighs crushing my hips in ecstasy.

The bedroom we gave her smells like her, and when I walk to mine, I hear her music on the way, muffled behind her door. That third toothbrush in the bathroom, and the smell of wax. The books she reads all day, eager to devour all bunker’s knowledge, and she forgets everywhere she goes.

Maybe the worst is hearing her sorry voice saying she will hurry when I find the bathroom door closed ; imagining her behind the door, maybe naked, maybe brushing her wet hair or whatever…

I really should focus on our researches to find a way to get rid of that vampire mafia, but I can’t really focus on anything lately. The contacts we have, the leads… It goes nowhere for now and I should work harder.

I walk to the kitchen and find her there, she’s wearing that sweatpants she took off to straddle me. Her back is on me, her head is low, she’s reading something, and my eyes fall on the curve between her lower back and her butt.

Was it bad ? Sex with me ? Was it disappointing ?

Don’t be so ridiculous Dean. Overthinking everything like a stupid teen. Do you think because a woman had sex with you, she would want more ? Why would she ? Not because you are obsessed with her, she would want anything to do with you…

Look at her. She doesn’t need a man, she doesn’t need anyone.

I haven’t had my first coffee yet, and I’m already losing my freaking mind. She’s there, she’s right there, and I know how she feels around me now...

“Hey” I greet her, trying to sound casual.

“Hi Dean” she turns around, a book in one hand as usual, a cup of coffee in the other. “I made coffee.”

I take a mug and pour some of that extremely strong coffee she makes every morning. Strong like her, black like that leather corset she wears in the battle field. That freaking corset that was drying on the bathroom the other day, that tight… Black… piece of clothing..

“I may have found a job, lame job but still. At the gas station” she says putting the book about demonic possession on the table.

“A job ?”

Why would she want a job ?

“Yeah, so I can pay my… you know my stuff, food and all” she shrugs. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t mean I’m settling in.”

I wouldn’t mind.

“I told you we had fake credit cards. If you need anything, just take the one I gave you.”

“Dean…” she smiles kindly, taking a sip of her coffee and I realize I just love my name on her lips. “Fake credit cards are a privilege for hunters, because you can’t risk your life at the other end of the country and have a job, you protect civilians… I’m not even a hunter. I’m a freaking vampire slayer.”

“Well, Buffy, Sam found a case, would you come with us ? Or do you really want to work at that gas station ?” I smile wide, showing teeth, trying to stop looking at her naked thigh sticking out of the table.

“What kind of case ?” she asks nonchalantly.

Looking at her innocent expression, I can’t help but think of what happened. She… She freaking straddled me and took me right there… Since then… Nothing.

It’s like nothing ever happened between us, like I never came deep inside of her, like I didn’t want her. She knows I wanted her, she felt it, and I felt her need, I heard her pleas on the phone and I saw her beautiful orgasm on her face... Now nothing. Except I’m going crazy.

She seems to think hard, and finally answers.

“Okay. Let’s hunt with the legendary Winchesters” she chuckles. “When do we leave ?”

“As soon as you’re ready, Sweetheart” I state, using that nickname on purpose.

Reader’s Pov

Eyeliner.

Those dark eyes look back at me in the mirror, their black line making them harder, colder, and those stern pupils I was so used to. I tighten the cords of my corset, strangely loving the strong feeling of being held so strong, and the pressure on my spine.

I remember the first time I dressed like this. I was way too young, sixteen maybe or even less, and I needed to infiltrate that club. A really shady club...

I couldn’t afford clothes, I could barely afford food ; so I borrowed a corset from that prostitute that gave me food once or twice, Silvia. She hid me from her pimp several times, and told me to never take free drugs and to stay away from men in general… She was nice with me, and she’s probably one of the reasons (with the Supernatural books) I never gave up to selling myself when fear and hunger were unbearable.

I had never worn anything else than that dirty hoodie I slept and lived in for years, and it was the first time I could actually dress up and look in a mirror, hurrying in her bathroom while Silvia wasn’t home. I used her makeup too…

I felt so strong when I left her shitty apartment, for once I had made a choice, for once I was in charge… I killed two vampires that night.

And Silvia was found dead before I gave her the corset back, one of her “client” decided rough wasn’t enough, he decided the bruises and the humiliations would be more pleasant if those fucking rapes ended up in murder…

I found him. I killed that son of a bitch.

But the time after she died was the worst of my life. Not just because no one gave food to me through the window, because after discovering monsters are real the hard way… I was discovering the worst monsters are human. And those monsters, there was no Winchesters to burn them. I was too young and I lost all hope…

But I had that corset and a sharp knife. So I decided, as long as I had that, I will make their blood flow… And I did.

A wave of sadness goes through me thinking that corset burned in my apartment, the original one, Silvia’s memory.

That is what Dean doesn’t know about me. That is the reason I can’t let go to that desire I feel for him. Not only I have to stay away from this naivety that made the child inside me crush on him, because naivety is weakness and weakness is death…

But also, he wants to see me as a hunter… And what I am is a killer.

I get out of the bathroom and walk to the war room with the bag they gave me to pack my things. I don’t have much, but I really don’t need a lot, the only thing is…

“Could one of you lend me a jacket ?” I say, putting my bag on the table. “My coat burnt and...”

Dean jumps from his sit, nodding, and walks pass me.

“Won’t be as fitted as your clothes though” he states, eyeing my cleavage for a second.

“That really doesn’t matter” I assure him.

When he comes back, he hands me that beautiful dark blue jacket he wears a lot. And I feel like a freaking cliché when our fingers touch, and even more when I wrap myself in that jacket of his. The little scared teen in me screaming in my head.

But that teen is dead a long time ago, and I intend that she stays dead.

Dean’s Pov

Y/n is fierce against vampires, but she’s just as much against any other monster.

Since we left home, we have solved one case after another, without any break like Sam and I did some times, mostly when one of us needed to unwind for some reason.

This time, all of us do need relief, for different reasons. And we make the best team… ever.

Everything is perfect, her sharp mind completes Sam’s brain, and her formidable fighting skills make our trio almost invulnerable.

And after the job is done, drinking a glass of whiskey with her really feels like hanging out with my best friends.

Y/n fights like this ghost, like this ghoul, like this shapeshifter was precisely the one who killed her parents. She is an efficient killer, if she decides that you’re dead, your head hits the floor before you realize it. It’s a freaking execution.

And watching her using those moves, both smooth and sharp to end the worst creatures of the universe makes me all dizzy every time.

She’s graceful in her ferocity and hunting with her adds something Sam and I never had, not even with Cas or Jack or anyone : an action movie vibe or something like that ; I think I never enjoyed hunting that much.

And I have to admit none of it helps with my obsession. I didn’t know I could be hard as steel while burning a corpse…

But as efficient as she is, able to kill without more than one stroke, she can also enjoy it… cruelly.

She’s like a cat that could end that mouse with a single bite, but plays with it a little.

She’s fucking scary.

Right now, the mouse is a 240lbs werewolf with a special taste for captivity and young hearts. He and his friend made their own little reserve in his basement, but it took us less than six hours to find who they were.

She broke his knee, stabbed him in the back, and watches him try to crawl to the forest now. She’s smiling wide, her face covered in red dots from the throat she cut just before.

“Crawl, crawl little bad wolf” she hums, turning around him like a shark.

“Dean” Sam tries to get me out of fascination, I know he things we should end the beast but I’m not giving her orders… It’s her pray.

My eyes are on her and I can’t really move, fascinated by her every move.

This woman is not like anybody else, and that monster massacre we’re on for a few weeks, it got me high on blood and on her. My body is filled with adrenaline, I’m horny and hungry constantly, my few hours of sleep are so deep I feel like dying every night…

“Y/n !” Sam calls her and she turns toward us.

I know my pupils dilate when her burning eyes find mine.

“Kill him” my brother almost whines.

She sighs, walking toward the car behind us, she hands me the gun when she walks pass me. It doesn’t entertain her anymore.

I take three quick steps to him and put a bullet in the werewolf’s head. Sam puts three little drops of that magic oil she taught him to do, says the incantation, and the body catches fire. That fire that wont spread, but that won’t stop until nothing is left of his target. This thing changed our life…

Tonight, Y/n has a room of her own.

When we can, we try to give her some privacy, and I have to sleep in a room so boring… a room that doesn’t have her in it.

“Y/n is really good” my brother says, putting his bag on his bed, but I know something bothers him. “And… I mean, with her we save twice more people.”

“But ?” I ask sternly, grabbing a beer in the fridge.

“She really likes to kill, Dean.”

“I do to, Sammy” I state honesty, able to admit it without a flinch now.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong” Sam ignores me. “I know she’s a good person and she proved a thousand times already that saving people was the real goal for her too. But she’s… I don’t know, wild ?”

When he says that, my heart misses a beat. She’s wild, yes, and she awakens something in me that I didn’t know.

“I feel like hunting with a time bomb sometimes” he sighs.

“I’ll talk to her” I say, ignoring the confused look on his face.

Of course, that was not what he was expecting, like you could just tell someone they’re a time bomb… But Y/n and I, we have a special relationship, and I really feel like I can tell her anything.

I knock and she opens with her gun in her hand, smiling when she comes face to face with me.

“You need something ?” she asks, letting me in.

“Just talking” I state.

“Okay” she frowns. “I’ll take my shower, after. Whiskey ?”

I nod and she takes a big sip directly the bottle, handing it to me.

“Sam thinks you’re a time bomb” I declare with no introduction, drinking way too much from that bottle.

She freezes, chuckling a little with her eyebrows raised.

“Sammy’s afraid of me now ?”

“He’s not afraid” I grunt, feeling the alcohol increase my desire for her. “He thinks you’re wild.”

“Wild, huh ?” she laughs, a mocking expression in her voice and on the corner of her lips.

I want to make it disappear from her pretty face, I need to see this grin turn into that ecstasy face that looks like a slight pain. I lick my lips.

“Well Sweetheart, you are” my voice is suddenly lower and she starts searching my face.

“And is that a bad thing ?” she shrugs.

I get up, and come near her, feeling my blood boil in a feeling between an inexplicable anger and a raging desire.

“Are you untamable, tigress ?” I groan, my eyes going from her bloody cleavage to her amused face. “Do you think it’s funny ?”

“A little, yes” she chuckles when I make her walk back. “What do you think you’re doing, Caveman ?”

I lose control of my hands and grip her waist, my nails digging in the black leather of that damn corset, crushing her body with mine against the wall.

When I try to kiss her lips, she turns her head slightly, offering me her jaw to bite instead, and I do. She doesn’t want kisses, she doesn’t want anything tender. I would love to give her more than sex, but so be it…

My hand finds her neck, taking it to keep her still and she groans.

Her hands fly to the thigh holster she’s still wearing and grab her gun. In a split second, the barrel is pressed against my temple, but I don’t flinch.

“I could kill you just like that, Winchester” she groans and I still don’t move.

“Go ahead, tigress. Kill me.”

She smiles hand I start nibbling at her naked shoulders with that gun still on my head, rubbing myself on her like a freaking dog in heat, groaning in her ear, my thumb spreading the mix of blood and sweat on the side of her burning neck.

When I let go of her neck to start undoing her pants, she bends and bites my shoulder, hard enough to make me scream in pain and wrap my hands around her throat again.

“Freaking cat” I grunt, struggling with her belt with only one hand.

When I finally manage to open it, I slip my finger in it and she lets the gun fall loudly on the floor. My hand finds her folds, and a grin appears on my face.

“You’re soaked, how surprising is that ?” I let out in a growl, slipping my middle finger through her folds, teasing her clit and entrance.

“Fuck you, hunter” she groans, but a desperate moan escapes her lips and my cock twitches so hard it hurts. So I let go of her delicious pussy, the smell of her arousal coming out of her panties along with my fingers.

With my shaking free hand, I almost rip my pants open and push it down, not realizing I’m squeezing her neck a little harder in my eagerness.

Her face is red and her mouth agape, she licks her lips and another insolent smile appears on her beautiful face. I know I can’t let go of her or she will attack me or run away.

“Take your pants off” I command unable to do it myself, and she lets her head go back. “DO IT WILD CAT !”

She pushes her jeans and panties down enough so I can take it off with my foot. And without losing another minute, I grab her thighs, spreading them for me, and carrying her.

“GRAH” she cries out when I enter her without any foreplay, burying myself between her throbbing walls in a sharp thrust.

I could come right now, the tension accumulated in me for weeks making me as feral as she is in battle.

“Yes, fuck yes !” I moan is her neck, as I start to thrust toughly, banging her hips on the wall each time.

She grabs my hair and tug at it hard, but I ignore the pain and keep chasing that ecstasy only her can give me so good.

“D-Dean…” she suddenly almost pleads, vulnerable.

I look up and notice she is struggling to breath.

“C-Corset” she whines.

Without withdrawing, I grab the knife on the table and brutally cut the lace caging her. The second I free her, she gasps and grabs my belt on the middle of my ass, encouraging me to take her harder.

And I do.

She can’t open her eyes now, her head back on the wall, her mouth open, and it’s too much for me to finally win that from her.

I reach my high so violently that I almost make the two of us fall, her hungry walls milking me strongly right away, her thighs shaking around me while her hands desperately try to push me.

“Y/N FUCK !” I yell, lost in both our orgasms mixing together.

Panting in her neck, I dread the moment she will push me away. So I enjoy every single second against her skin like it was the last… It probably is anyway.

________________________

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#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural Dean Winchester #SPN #spn fic #dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x reader #spn dean x reader #smut #angst #fluff #jay-and-dean

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