#I'd say that he was way nicer than people gave him credit for

[the-girl-with-too-many-ideas]

So, raise your hand if you found yourself thinking that Shen Jiu and OG Shang Qinghua would have made a terrifying power couple. 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️

[jjkeremika]

ha(u)nted soldier

description: eren meets you while abroad for war and tells armin about you; written like letters between eren and armin

eren jaeger x fem!reader (also friendship eren x armin)

Dear Armin,

Went into *redacted* to replenish supplies. It's a nice city. I wish I could show it to you. But don't go enlisting and joining me; I need people to come home to.

I met someone today. I went to the local library to find the right words to describe her to you. Ethereal and enrapturing come close, but they're not right. She has this lightness about her. Different. Nice.

Write soon,

E. Jaeger.

**********************

Dear Eren,

Nicer than the last place you told me about? Still no green skies? Annie and I took Erwin Jr. to the new aquarium. They managed to bring in all kinds of marine life from all over the world. When you come home I'll take you!

Ethereal, huh? It would make sense. You'd need an angel to balance you.

I write more frequently than you do,

Sir Armin A-L.

P.S. I wasn't going to enlist anyway.

****************

Dear Armin,

Stop signing off with 'Sir' like a dick. We get it -- Queen Historia knighted you for a railway system. It's not like you gave your life or anything. I would say I'd hope Junior takes after Annie more, but she's a dick too. He sees Mikasa too right?

I asked her to dinner tonight, apparently she's engaged. Convinced her to walk along the beach with me instead. She captured the sunlight so nicely. They write poems about that right? Can you give me one?

I'm at war dickhead,

E. Jaeger.

*****************

Dear Eren,

I don't believe you need to give your life to contribute to society. Where you got that notion is beyond me. And he's a great kid. I hope you get to meet him one day.

Poems are supposed to come from the heart. But if she's engaged then...

I know. I worry for you every day,

SIR Armin A-L.

***************

Dear SIR Armin Dickhead,

She visited the docks again to see me. I wanted to tell her everything, Armin, but I couldn't say anything. I wanted to tell her I've seen the beauties and riches of this world but I've never been interested until her. I wanted to tell her life is unrelenting and unrewarding, but seeing her was inspirational. I wanted to tell her that I used to stay up thinking of the endless horrors of war and now I'm thankful for it to have brought us together.

It was a silent walk. I almost kissed her. But I could hear your voice in my head telling me not to. At least I think it was your voice.

I'm scared I'm forgetting what you all sound like,

E. Jaeger.

P.S. Don't tell Mikasa I said that. I don't think she could handle knowing that I can't remember your voices.

******************

Dear Eren,

You don't give her enough credit, but I won't say anything. I'm not sure how you expect anyone to handle that.

Nice poem. Have you told her?

It's a stamp,

Sir Armin A-L.

********************

Dear Armin,

I've been spending my free nights at her residence recently. Can't say I've been sleeping. The way she moves is--get this--captivating (found another word for you). Touching her and feeling her is electrifying. Is that how it felt with Annie?

I think you two would get along. She has such interesting things to say, I can't always keep up. And she has all these hobbies and books I've never heard of. We're reading a few pages of this one Adventure book. I've been tracing the images while she sleeps to show you eventually. It's a long process. She's very convincing about returning to bed.

Get a new stamp,

E. Jaeger.

[aerialsquid]

Dogs of the Military

Pairing: Scar/Major Miles (implied)

Characters: Scar, Major Miles, Tim Marcoh, Assorted OCs

Warnings: Referenced war atrocities, referenced cruelty to animals, animals in medical distress.

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Ishval Rebuilding, Dogs, Animal Husbandry, The Military, Angst but Hopeful

Summary: Co-writing and initial ideal credit to @ravensandwritings. FMA Secret Santa 2021 (@fmasecretsanta) present to @klainelynch, who requested found family type fic. This is sort of half a present and sort of two presents, as this one got away from me and your Christmas present is Chapter 1 of a multichapter piece. I hope that this is not a disappointment!

-----

"Beg your pardon, a what?"

"He says there's a monster in the desert. Obviously, it's, you know." Private Nelson, a slightly chunky man who always seemed to be wearing a uniform a size too large for him no matter how many times he checked his belt, made a little gesture that indicated 'You know how these superstitious locals are' that Miles thoroughly did not appreciate.

The soldier next to him, Private Hume, offered a shrug. Hume wore her hair cut even shorter than military regulations insisted and had a perpetual expression of mild distaste on her features, one that seemed even more intense today. "Well, it's not just him. We've had three of them, and you know how rumors are when they get around. Everyone's jumping at shadows and blaming evil spirits for tripping over their own feet."

"You said it had carried off an entire sheep. Do imaginary spirits do that?"

Nelson let out a mild grunt of frustration. "No, but the neighbors do. Or local wildlife. Or sometimes the damn things just fall down a hole and get stuck because they're sheep, sir."

"Regardless, in what way does it improve the local people's trust in us to disregard their concerns and let their small flocks continue to be ravaged while we sit back here safe and comfortable?"

"Who says we're comfortable?" Hume mumbled, scratching at her neck, where sweat and fabric had combined to leave a growing rash.

"What was that, private?"

The scratching hand snapped to Hume's side. "Nothing, sir."

"Good. Tomorrow, you will accompany the Ishvalan consul and ask the witnesses to take you to where the monster was sighted. Further complaints or mockery will be subject to discipline. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

* * * *

"It's like herding a bunch of feral cats."

"You don't like cats?"

"I'm fine with cats. I like not having rat droppings in my daily bread. But cats are not a military animal. Dogs, you can train, but cats will do as they please and your only task is to make sure what they please is also what pleases you. If I wanted cats, I'd have gone into politics. I prefer dogs."

"I suppose the harsh rigors of Briggs did not prepare you to deal with soldiers lacking discipline."

Mile rolled over onto his side, lounging across the bed as he watched Scar preparing to join him. The little house they were both staying in had only one other room besides kitchen and bathroom, with a curtain hung on a rope to split it into Scar's quarters and Major Miles's. Each had a bed, a small table, and it was assumed they would make the situation work until such time as Scar moved out. After…certain negotiations and diplomatic relations…they'd pushed both beds together on one side and left the other side as their mutual office and study room. It kept Scar from rolling out onto the floor at night, and gave Miles a much nicer view than construction sites and the single determined bush growing outside their window.

"Ironically, the rigors of Briggs make discipline much easier," Miles noted. "Up there, we are surrounded by enemies. Not just enemy soldiers, but also the cold, the wind, the wildlife–"

"-a housewife–"

"I'm filing that under wildlife. Anyway, my point is that we have to have discipline and trust among us or we will literally die. We have enemies to focus on, so all our frustration can go toward them. Here, we are not asking them to merely fend off enemies but to protect civilians and aid in their comfort and mental security. The discomforts are small but many, instead of large and near overwhelming. The end result is a resentment that has nowhere to go, and no understanding that getting along with the men around you is the only way to keep everyone alive."

Scar gathered water in the palms of his hands and splashed it across his face, rubbing, then pressing it back through his hair. It was growing out nicely. Maybe too nicely, Miles might need to take scissors to it before it turned into a full on mullet.

* * * *

The next day, Scar took a party out into the old Amestrian military ruins. With him were Nelson and, reluctantly, Hume, along with the Ishvalan shepard who'd last seen the alleged monster. Lior, barely fourteen, was accompanied by his father Boaz and Ofra, a young woman they'd claimed was his sister. The war had shattered families so badly that many had clung to whoever they'd washed up with, claiming them as siblings and children after the fact just so the government would let them stay together. It wasn't as if there were records left to prove otherwise. Ofra carried a long knife with them, and Scar knew for a fact that was not the only one she had on her person.

Lior's pace was skittish as they walked out into the blasted rocks, not just because of the monster that he'd definitely for sure seen but because he's keenly aware only half the men on the expedition actually believe he's not making it up. He tried to seem rational, not some panicky rural twit, but he mumbled his words as he guided them down.

"Saw it over here. I think this used to be where the Amestrian scientists did...did their horrible stuff, you know? The doctors? So maybe it's...it's something of that." He stumbled over stray bits of rubble, eyes not meeting anyone's gaze. The place was barely standing, and not just because of the war. Scar recognized alchemical markings on some of the rocks where the building was deliberately torn down, perhaps even by someone who Scar later killed with his own hands. The military had tried to sink it in the desert, but they'd been in a hurry, and the wind had worn open holes in the ground with stairs leading to underground facilities.

Lior stuck closer to his father as they approached the yawning maw in the sand.

The two Amestrian soldiers with them only knew the general details of what happened here.They knew to be respectful here, to not make jokes or treat this as nonsense made up by a scared and superstitious shepherd, but none of the particularly.

Ishvalans, of course, knew exactly what happened here, plus or minus some wild rumors. When the truth was already so unbelievable, anything was possible. Lior fully expected to find screaming one-eyed zombies, or undying monstrosities made of his cousins, or the scientists still practicing their horrible work below ground with no care to the end of the war.

In the darkness, something stirred, and then darts from one shadow to the next. Guns snapped up, Ofra's knife flashing before her. Silence hung over the still, dusty hair.

It could have been rats, or simply a trick of the light in a slowly decomposing building. One of the soldiers even laughed a little, lowered the tip of his gun and opened his mouth to make a crack about ghosts and trigger fingers.

Then a rough growl came out of the shadows, a burst of movement through the brief spots of light coming in through the crumbling ceiling, and nobody thought it was just the wind anymore.

"Is that...it isn't a dog, is it?" said Hume, very faintly.

The creature's being backed into a corner now, teeth bared and catching the flickers of light. The eyes flash, and they're entirely the wrong shape for a dog. Or any animal that size. Then it was gone down one of the drainage pipes cracked open by the explosion, and was gone beyond their reach.

The word 'chimera' was whispered behind Scar's back. The soldiers had heard of the creatures, through rumor mill or through very discrete briefings by Miles, but none of the ones here had actually seen a chimera in person. The Ishvalans had believed they were just more propaganda, so used were they to the government putting out fearmongering.

But they all knew something horrible had happened here. They'd just held out hope it had been done for some reason besides its own horror.

Scar put a hand to the wall besides the drainage pipe. He felt power surge up his stolen right arm, across the intricate tattoos and out through his fingers to dissolve the wall back into sand.

"Forward."

"Shouldn't we go back and report to–"

"You are welcome to do so. I am going onward."

Hume and Nelson shot a glance between them, silently fretting over how badly it would look to send civilians in while they ran away in fear, and reluctantly followed behind Ofra and her huge knife.

As they headed into the corridor they passed the withered remains of corpses. Some appeared to be sheep, or at least partially sheep, but others were clearly human.

One of the soldiers crouches next to a crushed body and notes, with some disgust, that it's wearing an Amestrian uniform. To hide this place, they'd even slaughtered their own people.

The Ishvalan grumpily asks why he's surprised. Did he think Amestrians were special to these monsters? The man ducks his head and refuses to respond, instead noting that the smell seems to be getting worse this way. Worse, and fresher.

Scar moved through the dark like the hunter he'd been forged to be. Some of those damned Amestrian light-up goggles would have helped right about now, but he had ears too.

The noises were difficult to interpret but he could at least follow their direction. Perhaps the clicking of chitin, or the tapping of hard nails on metal. At least none of it sounded…human.

From a mass of crumpled and half-melted cages came a low growl. The monster knew it had been seen, enough to risk a noise in the faint hope it'll scare the monsters with guns and knives away. Hume's flashlight panned over another chimera huddled in a filthy nest that reeked of dead things. Black plating covered brown fur on its back and tail, ending in a stinger that it struggled to raise as it stood on spindly, mangy legs.

Like the other creature, it was thin enough that the edges of ribs could be seen along its sides–unlike the other, its belly is distended and swollen beneath it despite the obvious malnutrition. The tail was waving in the air not in threat display, but because she could barely hold it up. It growled, but even the teeth it bared looked worn.

He hated that he pitied it. He hates that its state stayed his hand when a child fused to the family pet did not.

The Nina creature had a mind enough that could grasp her wrong state, but rendered dumb enough with the mingling of the dog that she would be a good girl, a sweet and precious talking chimera to keep her father in his comforts.

This thing, it didn't understand that it had no right to exist.

Scar extended a hand to Nelson. "Give me your coat." The chimera growls again, hunching bony shoulders under its carapace. Its rows of eyes flicker and dilate in the dim light.

Nelson shucked his coat, grumbling, if only because he was more afraid of Scar than the chimera. "S'gonna come out of my pay if it shreds," he mumbled.

Scar approached the chimera, holding the coat before him as target and shield, then simply tossing the entire thing over the animal and hefted it up into its arms. The creature protested, clacking and growling, a wiggling bundle of blue-clad menace.

"You. Private Nelson," he says, as if he wasn't carrying a exhausted weapon of war that had never been unleashed. "You're to run out ahead and tell Mr. Mauro to expect a pregnant animal to tend to. He will make ready."

"And Major Miles?"

"Yes, I suppose you'll have to tell him eventually."

The chimera eventually falls limp in his arms as he carries her back, letting out a weak 'wrrr' of complaint as she's toted along like a wayward Resembool sheep. The others follow but stay away from him, wary of...bites? Stings? A touch from that horrible arm? This seems fitting, to the soldiers, a monster taming a monster. To the Ishvalans it's just more proof of his power.

She had no strength, Scar thought. She was not a threat. She would not die in the dark like a shameful secret, another horror of Amestris' bloody history buried in the sands of Ishval.

* * * *

"Are you sure it's not just a very ugly dog?"

"I-sir, I don't know," Nelson said, wide-eyed and shuffling his feet. Major Miles was staring at him so long that he'd had to rush to affirm he wasn't drunk, insane, or pulling a prank. "But he's bringing it back here to Doctor Mauro."

Doctor Mauro, known in a previous life as Tim Marcoh. The alchemist. Or former alchemist? Miles doesn't know if that's the kind of job you can just give up, or something that stays inscribed in you like the ink on Scar's arms. It's a discussion he'll have later.

"And that's not…dogs can't be shaped like that, sir. Not naturally. I'd heard rumors that they did weird experiments here during the war, but surely it can't be–"

"Either way, clear a path for him and ensure the civilians are out of sight. Do not breathe a word of this to anyone, military or civilian. If it actually is a chimera, I want as few people to know about it as possible. If it is not, I don't want to hear that you got drunk and spilled the beans to the mailman." And if it's just an ugly dog, as few people will see how embarrassing it is as possible."

* * * *

It was not, in fact, an ugly dog.

Marcoh's weathered hands ran over the belly of the creature lying bound on his work table, the expression on his mangled face tight with concern. His eyes flicked to Scar every so often, who kept a still and easy gaze over the both of them. He pressed where he could, listening for changes in heartbeat and in breathing that would indicate pain, but the creature was so tired it barely had commentary to offer.

"I–you know, I think you already know what I'm going to say, don't you? You'd know it just to look at the thing," he said. God, he felt so tired. This place had seen so many horrors, why did one more need to come out and remind them of his country's sins. Of his sins.

Scar gave a small, silent nod, his face like the stone cliffs above the city.

"It's a chimera." Marcoh's fingers soothed down the chitin over its neck. "And it's pregnant."

[yikesharringrove]

so i just read Flowers for Yikes and i really love what you guys are doing! If you're taking requests, I'd love to see a college/university au with lines 4. “I… think I love you.” + 17. “I’ve gone through some real shit in my life, but… you make my present and future seem so much more brighter.” you know i love you!

@xgardensinspace we’re famous omg.

Thank you for your request! I am always taking requests, I love doing them so much. You’re so sweet! ily!

4. “I… think I love you.”

7. “I’ve gone through some real shit in my life, but… you make my present and future seem so much more brighter.”

I love a good college/university au. This is also modern au 😊 (feat. dyslexic Steve bc of course it does, it’s me)

Read on AO3

Prompts!

Flowers for Yikes can be found here! Written for me by @xgardensinspace

Steve was gnawing on a pen.

He was sitting in the chair outside of the tutoring rooms in the library. He had a standing appointment with Billy, easily the smartest undergraduate tutor in the joint, but also easily the most gorgeous man Steve had ever seen.

He was totally jacked, thick in the most delicious way with long curly blonde hair he made a show of sweeping into a bun with one of the many different colored scrunchies he owned. He had these eyes that made Steve melt, blue and kind and sharp in a way that made Steve go hot every time they were trained on him.

Billy also had a reputation, horror stories of people going to him for help and winding up in tears as he told them their papers were shitty, that they were idiots for doing their math homework incorrectly, that they should drop out now, save their parents the money.

But he was always so gentle with Steve, softly explaining where he went wrong, how he good make his arguments stronger, giving him tools like an online citation generator when Steve was too confused and down on himself for not remembering how to create an MLA 8 citation.

Maybe it was because Steve had cried and called himself stupid the first time they met. Steve hoped it had something to do with the tightness in his gut whenever Billy’s eyes met his and his face lit up with a smile.

The door to their regular room swept open and a freshman came out, face beet red, clutching papers covered in Billy’s red scrawl. Steve shot up, gathering himself and heading into the room.

“Jesus Christ, Pretty Boy, it’s good to fuckin’ see you. Some people on this campus are idiots.” Billy was leaning back in his chair, rubbing his hands down his face in a long-suffering way. “So what have you got for me today?”

“Well, I, um. This one is kinda, kinda different. It’s for that stupid seminar I have to take for my core credits, and its-we had to write about what makes us the most insecure, so I need you, I mean, just read it and don’t focus on, on what it says.” Steve hadn’t wanted to show Billy this work, but they met up at 8:30 every Tuesday, and this paper had been so emotionally draining on Steve, he needed to see Billy and for once in his life, didn’t have any confusing assignments to try and work out.

“Okay, I’ll be real gentle with ya.” Billy smiled at him, the softest one Steve had ever seen from him.

Steve handed over the stack of papers and plopped into the chair adjacent to Billy’s, each sitting on either side of one corner.

Billy scanned through the document quickly, his eyes sliding from side to side.

“Shit, Stevie. This is really good.” He looked up at him. “I’m not blowin’ sunshine up your ass, this is genuinely really good.” Steve was beaming. Billy was definitely nicer to him than anyone else he tutored, but he had never actually called Steve’s work good before. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re dyslexic?” Steve’s face fell.

“It’s fucking embarrassing, man. I can’t read for shit.”

“It’s not embarrassing. It’s something that makes you really fucking strong. I see the way you bust your ass in school. I feel like I coulda helped you better if I had known.”

“My dad was always, really pissed off about it. He never let me get tested for it, just said I was lazy, or said I was just stupid. I only got tested when I came to college and could do it without him knowing.”

Billy’s brow was furrowed.

“FUCK your dad. Fuck him. You’re not stupid. You literally have a learning disability. You are not stupid. Do you understand me?” Billy was looking into Steve’s eyes like he could crawl inside his brain and MAKE him understand.

“I-yeah. I understand. Thanks, Billy.” Steve smiled at him, just a little one.

“Okay, so, let’s make this paper really kick ass. So you begin by explaining what it’s like in your brain when you read or write. I think for this introduction, leave any typos there are, really solidify what it is like for you before things like me or spellcheck get in there to fix it. It’ll really send the point home. And I think you should add what you told me about your dad. It’ll make a better transition from that into how stupid you have always felt you are, even though THAT’S not fuckin’ true.”

Billy continued on, making a few marks on the paper, explaining his ideas to Steve and making comments debunking anything Steve had said about himself in the paper.

“Okay, I think that’s all I got for ya. When’s she due?”

“Friday.” BIlly’s left eyebrow went up. “I know, I’m usually such a procrastinator. This one was really easy. Probably because I have a lot I’m insecure about. Hardest part was to pick one.” Billy’s face scrunched up again. The timer on Billy’s watch went off, signaling the end of their hour. “Thank you for your help though, man. I really appreciate it.” Steve packed up his documents, touching Billy’s arm before he turned to leave.

“Steve, you’re not stupid. It’s really important to me that you know that.”

Steve turned.

“Thank you, Billy. I’ll see you next week.”

Steve got an A and a smiley face that read “Great Work!” on the paper. He was ECSTATIC to show Billy his good work, what he had helped Steve achieve. At 8:30 the following Tuesday Steve bounded into the room and flopped his smiley essay down.

“I got an A! Billy this is the first time I’ve gotten an A on a writing assignment! The professor said showing how hard my dyslexia makes it for me was really smart! That was your idea! Thank you!” Billy stood up with STeve, bringing him into a bearhug.

“Fuck, Stevie. I’m so proud of you.” H released him and they both sat. “This really was all you though, I gave very little input into this piece for you. You got this A for us.” Steve beamed.

“Billy, I really wanna thank you for all your help this semester. I’ve gone through some real shit in my life, but… you make my present and future seem so much more brighter.”

Billy gawked at him.

“I… think I love you.”

“Sorry, what?”

Billy’s face went bright red.

“I’m sorry, this is probably really fuckin’ weird, but I’ve had a stupid huge crush on you since we started tutoring, like, six months ago, and after I read this paper last week, and you let me in more, I just. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, and I would like to, if it’s okay, maybe like, take you on a date?”

This is the first time Steve has ever seen Billy look unsure of himself.

“I, sorry. You want to go on a date? With me?”

“Yeah. Sorry, did I just make it weird? You’re just so happy and it was really cute, and I’m sorry if I misread or if you’re not into guys or-”

“I WANNA GO ON A DATE WITH YOU.” Steve had never been the most articulate. He felt like he was gonna explode from his skin. “I’ve actually had a crush on you too. I wanna, I wanna go out with you.” Billy lit up. It was beautiful.

“Okay! Okay, you uh, you have my phone number. I’ll call you this week? Maybe we can, what are you doing on Saturday?”

“I’m free all day! Whatever you have in mind is, I’m down for whatever.”

“Okay! I’ll give you a call. It’s, um, it’s a date.” They smiled at each other. “Can I kiss you, or is that like, is that too forward.” Steve melted at Billy asking permission.

“No, that’s-fuckin’ kiss me.” Billy launched across space, connecting them together. His hands cupped Steve’s face as he smiled into their kiss. Steve’s hands trailed u Billy’s muscular back to his neck. Both boys were grinning as they pulled back for air.

“If you don’t get outta here, Pretty Boy, I’m gonna jump your bones right here, right now.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Here I am, tryna be a gentleman and shit, and here you are, making me want to throw all that right out the window.”

“Well, maybe if Saturday goes alright, you’ll get to. I am a classy broad though, you gotta wine and dine me first.” Steve winked, pulling his backpack onto one shoulder. “I’ll see you Saturday then, Bill.”

“See you then, Sweet Thing.” Steve melted at the nickname.

It was gonna be the beginning of something, real nice.

[i-found-your-shoe]

Where My Demons Hide - Part 3

[Sam, Dean, Reader]

In the month and a half since you had joined the boys, Dean's attitude towards you had changed. You weren't lying when you said you lived on whiskey and cheeseburgers, which impressed him. You shot better than he thought you would, though you could use better technique. And you didn't complain about the music he played in the car, singing along at times, and even agreeing that Bon Jovi rocks - on occasion.

He taught you defensive maneuvers and better shooting techniques, Sam taught you lore and how they do research, and in return, you taught them Krav Maga.

And currently, you were teaching them to not underestimate you at the pool table. You were bent over the table, lining up your shot and pretending to not see Sam staring at your ass. You bit your lip, hit the cue ball, and sank your shot in one try. Sam cheered. For once, he bet against his brother, much to Dean's chagrin. You winked at Dean, who sat his beer down a little too hard, and lined up his shot. You leaned back against the wall and lit a cigarette. This was the only room you were allowed to smoke in and you took advantage of it.

You took a sip of your beer as Dean took his shot and remembered your news. “Oh! Guess what?”

“Fuck!” Dean exclaimed as he missed. “What?”

“After this last batch of paperwork clears, guess who will be a fabulous millionaire?”

Sam choked on his drink. “Wha-? MILLIONAIRE?”

“Multi.” you laughed. “And it'll stay that way as long as the stock market stays up.”

“You play the stocks?” Dean asked, setting his pool stick down.

“My father didn't raise a fool. He taught me a few things. My current account is sitting at over a million and a half at the moment. Some from a trust fund, some from stocks.. Most hard earned, though.” Both men looked at you, bewildered. “What? You thought the two of you were paying for the nicer hotel rooms?”

“How - uh, how much exactly are you getting?” Sam asked, genuinely curious.

“Five or six from my parents accounts. Four from insurance. As long as I'm around, no more shitty motels.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Maybe we should keep her.”

“You're just spoiled by the continental breakfasts.” you laughed.

“Unlimited bacon, (y/n). Unlimited freakin’ bacon.” he shrugged.

“Nothing is final yet. But it should go smoothly. And then, you boys don't have to commit credit card fraud anymore. Just think of me as your Sugar Momma.” You bent over the pool table again, tongue poking out of the side of your mouth, and lined up your next shot. “Sam, you got winner?”

“Huh?” he replied; your question snapping him out of his trance.

You laughed again. “I've almost won. Am I kicking your arse next? Or are we done?”

Sam watched as you took your shot, sinking again on the first try, and victoriously picked your cigarette up from the ashtray. He knew you thought it was a horrible habit, but he was mesmerized by the way you tucked your bottom lip in to lick it before you raised your fingers to your lips. And the tiny, perfect little O shape you made when you exhaled. And the way you glanced at him, subconsciously licking your lip again.

“You won't kick my ass.” Sam smirked.

“We'll see about that.” you replied, raising an eyebrow at his cockiness.

After thoroughly wiping the floor with both Winchesters, you took your winnings and headed back to your room and settled into bed.

A few minutes later, Sam pointed his head in the door. “Hey, you, uh, planning on keeping your ass in bed tonight? Or creeping into my room again?”

Your eyes widened and you played dumb. “I…don't know what you're talking about.”

Sam opened the door all the way and threw your pillow at your face. “This was in my floor, liar.”

You sighed. “Sorry… I, uh… Couldn't sleep. So, when I can't… I've been camping on your floor. Just…once or twice a week, maybe.”

“Nightmares, still?”

You nodded and he walked in, sitting in your desk chair. “I didn't want to say anything. I, um, I've been working so hard to prove that I can do this. I didn't want Dean, or you, to see it as weakness or something…”

“(y/n), believe me. Dean and I? We're…professionals at the nightmare thing. Sometimes it comes with the territory. Nightmares are a no judgment zone. You've been doing great. You even took down that vampire like a pro.”

You chuckled. “One vampire out of, like, fifteen.”

“You saved me, didn't you?”

“Purely selfish reasoning, of course. If you died, Dean would have to teach me how to research.” You faked a grimace.

It was Sam's turn to laugh. “That would be pretty horrible. He can barely Google.”

“But he does know how to find beautiful, busty Asians.” You groaned, remembering when you accidentally came across his porn stash while researching the vamp nest.

“Get some sleep, (y/n). And if you find yourself having any more nightmares, my bed is open. You know.. So you aren't sleeping on the floor.” Sam cleared his throat as his cheeks turned pink.

“Are you asking me to sleep with you? Most men offer me dinner first.” You grinned, causing him to blush harder.

“I-”

“I'm kidding. Drinks will do.” you winked. “Goodnight, Sam.”

“Goodnight, (y/n).”

The next morning, you trudged into the kitchen to see Sam making breakfast and Dean struggling with the new coffee maker you had bought.

You let out a yawn as Dean grinned. “Mornin’, Stitch.”

“Oi, fuck off.” You groaned. He hadn't mentioned what happened the day before and you were hoping he had forgotten, but obviously he hadn't.

“Am I missing something?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

“(Y/n) has a tattoo.” Dean grinned wider.

“Yeah. I know. We've seen them.” He rolled his eyes.

“Oh ho, not this one.” Dean chuckled, finally getting his cup of coffee to begin brewing.

“Dean….walked in on me changing while you were out yesterday.” You grimaced.

“It's on her butt.”

“On your b-” Sam began to ask.

“YES, ON MY BUTT. STRAIGHT ON THE ARSECHEEK.” You groaned again. “I got it when I was 16 with my best friend. It's Stitch and it says Ohana.”

“On your ass cheek.” Sam stifled a laugh.

“The left one.” Dean chimed in.

“Fuck you guys. I'm going back to bed.”

“Oh, come on, (y/n). Don't be a spoilsport. I'm just messing with you.” Dean stuck out his bottom lip.

Sam chuckled as he made himself a cup of coffee. “So when do I get to see it?” he asked, cheekily.

“That's why I don't tell people about it. Everyone always asks me to see it.” you replied, taking the fresh cup of coffee out of his hands and taking a sip.

“Hey!”

“That's what you get, Sammy.” you winked.

Dean curled his lip. “Get a room, you two.”

You stuck out your tongue and began adding sugar to the coffee. “So, now that we've addressed my arse, when are you going to let me kick some more monster butt?”

“Don't get cocky. You've killed one vampire.” Dean stated. “And you shouldn't have even been there for that one.”

“But I was there. And I was awesome.” You shrugged.

“Cocky gets you killed, (y/n).” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“And yet, here you stand. The cockiest of us all.” You challenged.

“Yeah, and I've been to Hell and back more times than you can count. How many times do you think I've died, Sammy?”

“Are we counting the Tuesday? Because if we count the Tuesday…. Roughly, 120.”

You raised your eyebrows and your eyes widened in shock. “120? As in twenty more than a hundred?”

“To be fair, The Tuesday was a time loop. But I died a lot. Sammy still can't watch Groundhog Day. Or listen to Heat of the Moment.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, it was kinda traumatic.”

“Fine. Cocky gets you killed. I get it.” you crossed your arms over your chest. “I'll wait then. Ignoring the fact that I'm more of a hands-on learner and everything. I'll just read books and look at websites and do nothing completely productive.”

“(y/n)....” Sam began.

“Look, Stitch..” Dean started at the same time.

“Oh, is that my nickname now?”

“Of course. Look, I'd rather you be safe than dead. This is still a trial run. If you die, you will bet know if you'd have made it or not.”

“Research is just as important as the hunt. You can't hunt if you don't know how to kill what you're hunting.”

“I said I get it.”

“You're no good to us dead, (y/n).” Sam gave you a small smile.

“I know.” you returned a very unenthusiastic smile.