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crashdevlin · 4 years

Text

Intense

One Night at a Time Masterlist

Author’s Note: Part seven of One Night at a Time series.

Summary: Y/n is trying to move on after Dean gets sent to Purgatory. She's hunting nonstop to outrun the questions in her head...what does she do when Dean shows up after more than a year?

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Benny x Reader (kinda)

Word count: 3575

Story Warnings: mentions of harm to reader, mentions of scars, poor self-esteem, angst, Dean being Dean (a bit of a jerk), 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, creampie

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I should have been there, closer, beside him when he stabbed Dick Roman and sent him back to Purgatory. I should have stopped Crowley from getting his hands on Kevin. I should have done something more than just stand there while everything fell apart.

And I tried, you know? I tried to find another way into Purgatory. I tried for months to get Dean back. But it was useless. I was useless. Useless to Dean and Kevin and Sam, but not useless on a hunt. I’ve always been at my best on a job.

So I go back to hunting. Vamps and ghosts and this shifter in Utah...a few demons here and there. I jump from job to job, catching a few that aren’t even monsters because as soon as I slow down, my brain goes to Dean. Missing him, yes. Missing him with everything in me, but also...he might have liked me, but...he never said he dreamed of me until after Castiel fixed my scars. He never got nervous about sleeping with me when I had the scars. He was a bit of an asshole to me, actually.

So I hunt. To avoid questions that plague me that don’t even matter anymore, I hunt.

I haven’t heard from Sam in over a year. He’s not on the radar. He’s not hunting. I guess that’s better, leaves more jobs for me.

I get wind of a vampire sighting in Clayton, Louisiana. No body drop, just someone saying they saw a fanger, but I check it out anyway. I have to do something to keep my mind busy.

I go the normal route, bars and nightclubs are generally the way you find a fang, but there’s not a lot in that area in Clayton. One bar full of blue collar boys and no nightclubs. Still no bodies. I head to a local park overlooking a lake and sit on a small wooden bench. There’s something interesting about cypress trees sticking out of the water, Spanish moss hanging from the branches. It’s not pretty, not in any conventional way, but it is at the same time.

“You not from aroun’ here, are you?” a man says, moving to sit next to me on the bench.

I turn to look at him. A blue-eyed man with a light beard and a hat. He’s not quite the swamp-dwelling men I found at the bar. “What makes you say that?”

“Just got a feelin’ about you. Says you’s a traveler. You got a nomad look,” he says, smiling brightly.

I smile and nod. “Yeah. You could say that. I’ve been pretty much everywhere.”

“I used to do a lotta sailin’, so I been around a few times. Sometimes, I think I can sense people with an envie to roam. Mus’ be what drew me ta you.” He smiles at me again and I chuckle.

“Are you sure it wasn’t the fact that I was a weirdo staring at the water? Didn’t come over here to check me into a mental hospital or something?” I ask, smirking.

“Nah. Pretty lady with her head lost in the cypress? Nothin’ wrong wit’ dat.”

I feel my cheeks heat up and look away toward the trees again. “Thank you.”

“No problem, cher. I’m Benny.”

“Y/n,” I respond, offering my hand. He takes it and kisses the knuckles. His lips are a bit cold, but it’s pretty cool for August.

“Well, iss real nice meetin’ you, Y/n. You gonna be around town a few days?” he asks. Is he flirting with me?

“Maybe. The ‘envie to roam’ might kick up real soon.” Might not be anything here and I have to find a job soon. I have to find a distraction.

“Well, if you don’t roam before tonight, I could buy you a drink?”

I lick my bottom lip between my teeth and nod. What better way to look inconspicuous on a vamp hunt than to have drinks with a handsome man? “That’d be nice, Benny. I’ll meet you at the bar at 7?”

“I’d like that.”

He’d like that. Why would he? Why did he even want to talk to me?

I go anyway. He buys us beers. He's charming and funny, down to earth but not simple. I don't know if it's the quaint Louisiana backwoods of him or what, but he seems like a man out of time. Which should have been the first clue, but my Spidey-sense doesn't go off until he walks me to my car and leans in to kiss me.

It's nice and he's an amazing kisser, but the fact that he's kissing me?

My mind goes to Marco.

I whisper 'Cristo' when he pulls away, but he doesn't flinch, just looks at me a bit odd. "I didn't think I was that good a kisser you gotta call for the Lord, cher."

I nod and smile tightly. "Right. Uh...I had a nice night, Benny. You've got my number. Text me sometime," I ramble out a bit before I slide into my driver's seat and peel out of the parking lot. He must be the fang I'm looking for. Only explanation. It's the only reason he'd flirt with me, kiss me, why his lips were cold. Trying to get me alone so he can drink me or turn me.

I'll set a trap, get some dead man's blood, confirm what he is...Benny's big so maybe I should have some backup but at the end of the day, he's just one vamp and I've taken down bigger.

I'm trying to figure out a way to get some dead man's blood in this nowhere town when there's a knock on my motel door. I grab my gun and approach, looking through the peephole. I almost drop my gun.

Dean Winchester, or something that looks like him, is standing at my door.

“Open the door, Y/n!” It knows my name. “And put the piece away. You can test me as soon as you open up.”

It can’t be him. It can’t but...if anyone could claw his way back…

I open the door and stare blankly at him for a minute. “You...can’t...be.”

He smiles and steps inside. “You got some borax, holy water, silver knife?” I just stare for another few moments. “Okay, well, I got the knife,” he says, pulling out a knife I recognize and slicing it across his arm.

“How are you here?” I whisper.

“Long story,” he says, wrapping a handkerchief around his arm. “Borax?”

I swallow and rush to my duffel bag. After I splash him with cleaner and holy water, I hand him a towel. “It’s really you?”

“Yeah. It’s really me.” He sets the towel aside and licks his lips, grimacing at the taste of the borax. “I was sad when Sammy told me he hadn’t seen you all year.”

I shrug and look away. “I was keepin’ busy...he wasn’t.”

“How busy?” he asks.

“Busy enough.” Had a lot on my mind.

“Sam retired. You hear about that?”

“I assumed. He dropped off the face of the earth and left all the good cases for me.” I sit on the edge of the bed and look at my feet.

“He was in Texas.” He moves to stand over me, looking down. “You been hunting by yourself again?”

“Nothing new, Dean.” I shake my head. “The only time I wasn’t hunting solo was the few months I was with you and Sam. I’m good without backup.”

“But Sam shouldn’t have abandoned you to go play house with some chick in-”

“Does it really matter?” I look up and sigh. “He deserved a break.”

“No, he didn’t! I was in Purgatory and he just quit. At least you kept fighting.”

“I didn’t really have a choice.” I clear my throat and bite my bottom lip. "So you got out."

"Yep. I did."

"How'd you find me?" I ask.

"Friend found you for me...not that he was really looking." He clicks his tongue against his teeth and clears his throat. "So Sam and I just got done doin’ a wolf case in Michigan...got a few days probably...unless you got something-”

“I’m on a fang. If you wanted to-”

“How many victims?” he asks, a little too quickly.

“Well, none but someone I trust saw the thing. Just because they haven’t killed anyone yet doesn’t mean-”

“Y/n.” He grabs my chin and tilts my face up to look at him. He’s still so beautiful but there’s something primal in his eyes. “No body means no monster. You don’t need to be here.”

“I’m s-sure there’s a...there was this guy, B-Benny, he-”

“No, babe.”

“Guys don’t give me attention unless they have a motive, Dean.” I pull away from him and his eyes narrow at me and a chill goes down my spine. Not a good one, though. I’m fucking scared...of Dean. That primal look in his eyes is terrifying and I’ve faced down a lot scarier shit than him.

“Motive? What’s that supposed to-” His jaw ticks as he steps close and crowds me a bit. “You’re back on your bullshit about people not liking you, aren’t you?”

“I don’t get attention, Dean. Benny is just Marco part two.”

“Marco was sent after you, Y/n. Benny just found you.”

“Or I found him! Maybe he’s the one I was here looking for and-”

Dean reaches out and grabs my hair, making me gasp. “Benny is not your concern. No one’s died. You’re after nothing,” he practically growls at me.

“Okay!” I squeak and it��s pathetic...but he’s scaring the fuck outta me. What the hell? What happened to him while he was gone? “There’s nothing here.”

He lets go of my hair and sighs. “Why don’t you pack up and we’ll go meet up with Sam?”

“Dean...I don’t-”

“Y/n.” There’s a warning in his tone and I look away from him.

“Fine. Can we stay here tonight? I’m kinda exhausted.” I don’t wanna go anywhere with him acting like this. Maybe he’ll be less scary in the morning. Unlikely.

He sighs again, obviously annoyed with me, but he nods and pulls his jacket off. He tosses it at the chair in the corner and flops down onto the bed, pulling out his phone. “I’ll call Sam. Let him know.”

I nod and move to the other side of the bed, lying down and turning onto my side away from him.

All the questions I was running from, working to hide from, they all come flooding back as Dean settles into the bed with me. The questions bring friends. Why is he here? Why would he come here? Who found me for him? Why did he want me found? And why’s he being an asshole again?

Not just an asshole, but a scary asshole. And I don’t think I want to hunt with him like this. I’m uncomfortable. I’m anxious. I’m confused. I’m...sneaking out of bed while he sleeps and getting out of Louisiana. I’ll call Sam when I get some miles between me and Dean. I just can’t do this right now.

I know he hates it when I leave without saying ‘goodbye’ so I leave a note.

Then I leave. I make it to a convenience store in Meridian, Mississippi before I have to stop. I get bad mileage in this old car. I set the pump and head inside, grabbing a case of beer and a hand basket full of snacks. I drop them in the backseat and go around to the restrooms, hoping for something clean-ish. I push open the door, but I haven’t stepped into the room when a hand covers my mouth and I get forced into the room.

“Don’t fuckin’ scream.” It’s Dean. Fuck. At least the bathroom’s clean, I’m not grossed out when he presses me into the wall with his body. “The fuck do you think you’re doin’?”

He pulls his hand away from my mouth and I take a deep breath. “You’re scaring me, Dean,” I whisper.

“Oh, I’m scaring you?” he snaps, grabbing my shoulder and twisting me around to face him. His eyes are wild and full of rage. “You know I hate it when you disappear on me. You didn’t even stick around an hour before you left this time! Ya know, you’re always worried about how people don’t like you, but you’re the one that’s not givin’ anyone a chance to get close.”

“Dean, you’re being a dick. Why would I stick around when you’re scaring me?” My voice is squeaky, my body almost shaking. I can face monsters any day of the week, but I’m shaking over this man.

His face softens, his eyes losing a bit of their edge, and I think he’s gonna step back from me for a moment, but he doesn’t. He steps closer, leans his head down, hovers his lips over mine. Suddenly, I’m feeling a tingling lust between my thighs on top of the fearful shaking in my limbs. “Wasn’t tryin’ to be a dick, baby,” he whispers, his breath warming my lips. “Just spent a year in Purgatory. Came back a little...intense.”

“That’s an understatement.” My head’s getting a little dizzy as my heart thuds in my chest.

“Spent all that time missin’ you, wanting you, dreaming of burying my cock in your tight little cunt.” I gasp as he grabs my waist with one hand and braces himself against the wall next to my head with the other. “Intense isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Y/n.”

"Dean," I whimper. I want him. I always want him, but hearing those words...that he was thinking of me… "Why would you miss me?"

He rolls his eyes, and it's this aggressive thing that chills me. "You gotta stop this shit. I spent all those months buildin' you up, showin' you how much I appreciate you and all that work I put in...it's just gone?"

"Why?" I whisper before I can stop myself. His eyebrows come together and I close my eyes. "I'm not...worth...any-"

'Shut it!" he growls and I jolt against him, eyes opening and finding his. "You are worth everything I could ever fuckin' give you. I put the effort in because you deserve it, because I need you, Y/n. The last year of my life has been death and destruction, and fear and adrenaline, and the only thing that kept me going was the thought of makin' it back here to you and my brother. You're like family.”

‘Family’. I’m like...needs me? He-

I lean forward and kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him close. My brain’s not working right, I’m overwhelmed and confused, but my body knows what I want. He groans and presses me harder into the wall, pushing my shirt up and grabbing my breasts over the bra. He drops his hands to the front of my jeans, popping open the button and sliding his hand into my underwear to cup my mound.

I suck his tongue into my mouth as he starts fingering me. He’s going a little rougher than he used to. That scary primal energy is translating into something...so sexy. “Oh, god,” I whisper as he works two fingers against my inner walls. “Shit! Dean, fuck!”

“You make the prettiest fuckin’ noises.” His voice rumbles in my ear, makes me clench around his fingers. “You gonna cum on my fingers, baby?”

I whine and grind against his fingers. I’m so close. God, he’s so good at making me feel good. “I’m gonna--Dean, I’m gonna--Don’t stop!”

“I’m gonna make you cum ‘til you can’t fuckin’ stand it, Y/n,” he promises, pressing the heel of his palm into my clit. I squeal as my toes curl in my shoes and my orgasm crashes over me. I don’t even have a chance to get my wits about me before he’s spun me around and pushed me over the sink. He yanks my pants down to my boots, but he tears my panties off. I hold back the shriek that wants to bubble up as the cotton rips at the sides. He starts sucking at the skin of my neck, digging his teeth into my shoulder as he fumbles with his belt and jeans. He knocks my knees apart and leans over me, sliding his cock along my slit a few times before he slides in all at once.

“Dean!”

He’s rough, fucks me hard, digs his fingertips into my waist, my boobs, my thighs. He bites into my shoulder through my shirt, punches air out of my lungs with each thrust. He moves a hand between my thighs to pluck at my clit and I scream as I cum again, but he’s not done. He’s making good on his promise to make me cum ‘til I can’t stand it, definitely ‘til I can’t stand, because my legs are shaking and weak, the sink is the only thing holding me up as he keeps going. How is he still going?

“Dean, please! I need--I need you--”

“What’d’you need?”

“Need to feel you fill me up,” I whimper. Oh, that’s stupid. I’m not on the pill. But why is it so hot?

He hisses and kisses my jaw and pinches my clit. “One more, Y/n. Gimme one more.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” he demands. He sucks my earlobe into his mouth and nibbles on it, rolls my clit between his thumb and first finger. “Cum for me, one more time, cowgirl.” He moves faster, fucks me hard and plays with my clit more and I cum screaming into the mirror over the sink. “Good girl.” He moves his hand away from my clit and braces it against our reflection. He hammers into me, lasts another few thrusts before his breath catches as he cums, his cock twitching as he gasps in pulls of air. “Fuck. That was...so worth it.”

I don’t disagree. Fuck.

He pulls out, holds me up as he fixes his clothes, then moves to fix mine. He caresses my cheek and leans in to kiss me passionately. I’m a bit breathless when he pulls away. Intense. He’s definitely...intense.

“You changed,” I whisper. “Purgatory changed you.”

“Of course it did,” he responds, licking his lips. “But what are you, specifically, referring to?”

I look away. His eyes are too green, too hypnotic. “You were gentle before you left...almost awkward with me after Castiel made me kinda...pretty again?” I don’t know why that turned into a question.

“You were always pretty.” He bites his bottom lip and sighs. “Last time we were here, when you gave me your motel key...I was gentle then too, right? And that was way before Cas healed you. You’re right that I wasn’t awkward then, but I wasn’t tryin’ to build a relationship back then.”

My eyes go wide. “Relationship?” I squeak.

“Well, duh.” He seems amused by my shock. “What’d you think this was, Y/n? An extended one night stand?”

I shake my head. “I...I, um...relationship? What kind of-”

He shrugs and leans against the wall he originally pushed me into. “Why we gotta label it? It’s...I mean, I like you. You like me. We like bein’ around each other. We like fuckin’ each other.”

“Oh, for a second I thought you might be saying something real,” I snap. Thought he might want something like he had with...never mind. “You’re right. Why label what I mean to you?”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “You comin’ with me or not?” he asks.

I swallow and bite the edge of my tongue. “Yeah. I guess. Since you chased me off from Clayton.”

He licks his lips. “Full disclosure, babe...there was a vamp in Clayton. Benny. Benny was a vamp, but he really approached you just because he thought you were hot and he’s not bad. Dude’s practically vegan.”

My eyes go wide. “I was right? And you know him?”

“It’s a long story,” he says again. “I met him in Purgatory. He helped me stay alive, helped me get free. Like I said, he’s a good guy and he hasn’t been a danger since before he got sent to Purgatory, okay?”

I blink at him a few times. “You…”

“Look, he’s the whole reason I knew where to find you, so you should be thankin’ him for callin’ me.”

“Wh--how’d he even know who I was?” I ask.

“Recognized you from my description.”

“You talked about me? To a...some fang?”

He steps close to me again. “I missed you. So I talked about you. So he recognized you and he called me.” He bites his bottom lip and reaches out to touch my cheek again. “Label or not...you’re important to me. Benny knows that.”

I lick my lips. “Okay...I guess?”

“I’ll tell Sam we’re comin’.” He starts to walk away but he stops at the bathroom door. “Don’t tell Sam about Benny. Please. Not yet. He’s not...we’re still gettin’ our footing. Please.”

I nod and push off from the sink. “Guess he doesn’t need to know yet.”

“Awesome. Let’s get out of here.” He reaches out and I take his hand and he pulls me out of the bathroom.

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The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @sunnyroadtrips @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you Hunter Tags - @atc74 @sandlee44 @spnbaby-67 @kalesrebellion @tumbler-tidbits @hoboal87 @stoneyggirl @kbl1313 @cookiechipdough @mrswhozeewhatsis @winchesterxfamilybusiness @holylulusworld @pretty-fortune @screechingartisancashbailiff @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits @imperiusimpala Gaga For Green Eyes Tags- @typicalweirdbookworm @deanmonandnegansbitch @jadesupernatural @stoneyggirl @4fareader @squirrelnotsam @lyarr24 @akshi8278 @pretty-fortune @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits

#cassie writes stuff #spn fanfic #reader-insert #Dean x reader #benny lafitte

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sunshinesukuna · 4 years

Text

hogwarts school of sorcery and sweethearts

✨pairing : magic!kuroo x magic!reader ✨genre: angst then fluff ✨tw: light swearing, bullying ✨ insp: night changes — 1D, 18 — 1D, Somebody to You — The Vamps, The Gifted (if y’all watch ep 5 and 7 y’all know what i’m gonna write abt) ✨ wc: 6.5k i rlly don’t know how it got to be this long it just... did. lest those plot holes come for my ass. ✨ uwu i officially graduated last week. they leech rally made us sit in front of our computers and graduate like? so damn cringy tho. but now it’s school admission season and you know what that means? a lotta stress as my grades try to get into a good school. TT

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢: 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 (𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧) | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢𝐢: 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧) | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢: 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 (𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Sorceress Saeko’s Guide To Potent Potions:

The Babbling Potion is an extremely inebriating potion that, as stated in its name, causes the consumer to spout lies. Each and every statement said by the user under this potion’s effect is a complete and utter lie — according to the user’s knowledge of course. It is said that the Muggle tale of Pinnochio was inspired by a wizard who accidentally poured several drops of the potion onto an enchanted doll.

Effects last for 72 hours, or until an Antidote is administered. For safety reasons, ingredients are kept confidential unless under emergency. Recipe for the Antidote is as below:

(For one person)

5 leech stomachs

Petals of the Laughing LIly (crushed finely)

Ginger ale

Root of Bubotuber Plant

Mandrake shavings

MIx together in a cauldron for two hours until brilliant orange. Stir with your wand counterclockwise for one hour, then set to simmer. When done, it should resemble the scent and taste of Pumpkin Juice.

Kuroo always marched into the war armored to the teeth with plans. Every action he did always had a clear intention behind it and was well thought out, with all the consequences and alternatives mapped out. Even the most trivial of things. Kuroo wouldn’t argue that the situation in question was as far from trivial as it could get, but he digresses. Which is what landed Bokuto, Akaashi, and Kenma standing over a fretting Kuroo.

“If you like (Y/N) so much, just say it to (Y/N)’s face, Kuroo!” Bokuto said. Kuroo gives him a sour look. Kuroo’s normally calm and suave front was reduced to a boy fiddling with his wan with pursed lips. Occasionally, bright red sparks popped out from the end of his wand, nearly obliterating a vase on top of the fireplace.

“Heh. You go up to that pretty third-year you saw last week and tell her that you like her, go on,” Kuroo egged.

“Well now that you put it that way…” Bokuto’s hair deflated along with his ego.

“Then what’s the point of you making these…” Akaashi gestured to the wads of parchment over the covers of Kuroos’ four poster. Some of them were complete with the red circles and arrows unique to Gryffindor Quidditch captains. They flitted around the parchment, akin to the moving pictures that were the norm in the wizarding world. “Battle plans?”

Kuroo chuckled. “Battle plans,” he muttered. “You’re right there, Akaashi.”

“Bokuto has a point though, Kuroo,” Akaashi said. He looked at a piece of parchment and threw it away in disgust.

“I do?” Bokuto asked. His eyes became starry again. The hair that once laid low with shame and insecurity now promptly stood proudly again.

“No use making it long and complicated if she’s just going to reject you in the end,” Akaashi said. His tone made Kuroo’s heart clench a bit at how honest Akaashi was being.

“Well yes, but when we’re dating, I don’t want to hear (Y/N) complaining about how un-thought out it was!” Kuroo said.

“Now you’re just thinking too far,” Kenma piped up from his spot on the chair. “You’ve been friends for six months Kuroo,” he went back to his book, “stay in your lane.”

Kuroo scoffed defensively. “We’re quite good friends, I’ll say!” Bokuto stifled a laugh, while Akashi snorted openly next to Bokuto.

“Go to sleep, you all.” Kuroo swiped all of the strewn parchment from the bed and stacked it onto his nightstand. “I need to think about this by myself.”

Kuroo laid on his four poster, mind amuck with thoughts and complications. Both the dark outside and the dark in his mind left him more confused than ever. Now that he had become better friends with you, he had a slightly closer view of all your thought processes, all your likes and dislikes.

You liked Herbology and magical plants. Should he do it in the greenhouse? No, you had been there too many times for it to have any special meaning to you. Not to mention that he wouldn’t want to do it while soiled in Mandrake piss. Kuroo shuddered at the thought.

The common room? Too many people that could walk in. An empty classroom? Too suggestive.

Kuroo sat up on his bed. Everyone had fallen fast asleep, Bokuto snoring the loudest out of the four. Kuroo slumped back down on the bed before catching sight of the bulletin board in his room. Besides the parchment of Quidditch moves and formations, there was a moving photo of the four of them.

Crude mustaches were drawn over their magical lips. A magical doodle of a flying Bokuto was scribbled in the corner, flying around the photo’s sky. Even the pictures were asleep. Not Kuroo’s. His was still awake.

Kuroo’s photo looked at the real version of him. The photo couldn’t talk, but Photo Kuroo looked at real Kuroo expectantly. Kind of like he was asking ‘What are you going to do now?’

Not bearing to lock eyes with the photo, Kuroo found himself looking at the schedule he had for tomorrow. Potions first thing in the morning. Ugh, he had to deal with Snape again. After Slytherin’s defeat against Gryffindor a few days ago, their head of house would be even more bitter than he already was toward the innocent Gryffindors. There were even rumors that next morning’s pumpkin juice would be laced with Draught of the Living Death or Babbling Potion. Kuroo shuddered.

Potions was followed by History of Magic, Arithmancy, Charms, and Astronomy. His mind went silent for a little while, concocting an all-new plan.

Maybe something could be arranged.

Kuroo walked into breakfast the day after that with a spring in his step, the hair on his head finally seeming to bend to his will. The rest of the Gryffindors gagged at the 180 his appearance had taken on.. Had their mouths been anymore agape, they would have been the gargoyles that stood proudly on Hogwarts front gates.

“Top of the morning to you all, fine gentlemen,” Kuroo said. Akaashi and Kenma exchanged a look.

“Game day, huh?” Akaashi asked. Kuroo nodded, grinning from ear to ear. Kenma pursed his lips.

“Astronomy Tower, right after classes.”

“Really? Good luck, bro!” Bokuto says. He clapped Kuroo on the back.

From the tip of his wand, Kuroo conjured a sticky white liquid and proceeded to slather it all over his hair. It was hair gel, Kenma realised. The morning sunlight streaming through the windows made it shimmer in Kuroo’s onyx locks. “I look fine, right?” Kuroo asked. Kenma could only nod half-heartedly.

Kuroo tapped his fingers on the wooden tables. He gritted his teeth. “You’re going to be fine, Kuroo,” Kenma says. He smiles a little at his friend's concern over confessing.

“Yeah, I think (Y/N) has a thing for you too Kuroo,” Bokuto says. Kuroo furrowed his eyebrows.

“You sure?”

“Don’t let those battle plans go to waste, man.” Kuroo laughs at the support his friends are giving him. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his head that something, something is just going to go wrong. Then again, he gets that feeling every time he has a game. But they’ve won a majority of those games, so he chalks it up to nerves.

Kuroo reached for a pitcher of pumpkin juice that no one had touched before. He took a sniff before furrowing his eyebrows. “Does the pumpkin juice smell a little off to you today?” Kenma shrugged. Kuroo poured some in his goblet anyways.

Kenma was the first one to see it coming. He was sitting opposite the Slytherin Quidditch team, so he had a bird’s eye view of their actions. A glint in Miya Atsumu’s eyes, Daishou’s curl of the lips, and the scent from the pitcher akin to unicorn poop; sickly sweet but could kill a man if inhaled directly.

“Don’t drink—” Kenma started, but the gulp in Kuroo’s throat makes any of his actions futile. Kenma is half-standing, one arm raised to keep the goblet from touching his lips, but it’s too late. Akaashi and Bokuto look at Kenma like he’s swallowed a hedge of Gillyweed.

“The pumpkin juice today tastes amazing, doesn’t it?” Kuroo said. He set the goblet down like nothing was wrong. “Do you guys have any plans for later? I’m free tonight, so let’s all sneak out to Hogsmeade if you—”

Kenma snatches the goblet from Kuroo and puts it to his nose. The scents of Bubotuber pus and lily roots sting his nose. A waterfall of regret and shock crashes over the rocks that are Kenma’s heart. He shoves the goblet toward Akaashi, who does the same thing. They exchange grave looks before looking at Kuroo.

“Guys?” Kuroo and Bokuto ask in unison. Kenma spots Miya Atsumu and Daishou Suguru giving each other claps on the back from his seat. ‘Slytherin’, he mouths to Akaashi. Akaashi rolls his eyes. The audacity! Akaashi takes the first plunge.

“U-um Kuroo?” Akaashi asks. Kuroo looks at his friend, the confusion on his face now replaced with blank indifference. “Don’t you have to meet (Y/N) later today?” Akaashi asks, prompting his memory.

“That ugly shrew? I’ll pass, thanks.”

There are always going to be variables that are impossible to factor in an equation. Not all equations have rational results either. That was fundamental in Arithmancy. And as a student of Advanced Arithmancy of two years, Kuroo should probably have that ingrained into his mind right now. It was something that Professor Vector always berated him on. That he never left room for unknown variables that could come up in another problem in his equations.

Kuroo would have never thought that he would encounter one in a situation like this.

“Not cool, man!” Bokuto cried. An insult to Bokuto’s friends was an insult to Bokuto himself. But when one of Bokuto’s friends insulted Bokuto’s other friends...

Kuroo shrugged and took another sip of the pumpkin juice. “Just saying.” Akaashi and Kenma were still standing agape at the words tumbling out of Kuroo’s mouth. One minute he was fawning over you, fussing over every detail. Out of everyone, how could Kuroo have the audacity to say something like that about you?

“Anyway, what are you all off to? Anyone want to join me on the pitch during Arithmancy?”

Kenma choked back a gulp of air. “You’re skipping class?”

“Yeah.” Seeing his friend's dumbstruck expressions, Kuroo threw his head back, laughing. “What’s the old hag gonna do?” He waved his fingers around his head in imitation of the innocent Professor Vector. “Oo, you have blundered in the ancient arts of the numbers! Prepare to die!” he said mockingly.

In an instant, his smile dispersed in favour of a scowl that made itself at home on Kuroo’s face like a parasite on an unsuspecting plant. “Like hell am I going to do that.”

Kuroo started packing his bags. “You guys aren’t coming with me, huh?”

“Well unlike you,” Akaashi started, “we actually care about our grades.” Kuroo raised an eyebrow.

“Suit yourself. I’ll be in the Astronomy Tower after class if you need me.”

Enter a happy you trotting over to where the quartet were sitting. It seemed like you had just come back from the greenhouses, as evident from the leaf in your hair. You brushed it away.

“Hi guys! Hi Kuroo!” you greeted. You sat yourself down next to Kuroo, but he suddenly scooted away from you like you were the plague. He grimaced before looking you up and down. He might have muttered something under his breath, but you didn��t catch a word. You could hear, however, that it was said in a venom-laced tone that could kill a bear with just a word.

“I’m off,” he said curtly. Kuroo slung his bag over the shoulder and walked out of the Great Hall. You pursed your lips as you look at his retreating form. Something was up with him today.

“What’s up with him?” you ask, taking a piece of toast from a tray.

“He’s just feeling a little under the weather today… yeah!” Bokuto answered. His eyes looked to Akaashi for help. Either Akaashi didn’t get the hint or just decided to ignore Bokuto altogether. “That’s it! Kuroo’s just a little… sick!”

“Poor him. Why isn’t he off at Madam Pomfrey’s?” You pouted. He promised to help you harvest Bubotuber Pus later today. But he could take a break from helping you all the time, you supposed.

“Well, you see—” Bokuto said. You set your food down on the plate abruptly.

“Never mind, I should stop by later to give him a healing potion or something.” At this, Akaashi and Kenma looked at one another with baffled faces and parted lips.

“We… really think you shouldn’t—” Kenma said.

“He said he would be in the Astronomy Tower later after class!” Bokuto suddenly blurted. Akaashi sighed and put his head in his hands, the cereal in front of him taking the brunt of his frustration.

“Oh, okay then. Thanks!” you said. Not having much of an appetite, you grabbed another piece of toast and pranced off to your next class.

Classes went by as usual. You didn’t catch a glimpse of a certain black-haired Keeper that day. Kuroo would have been good at this, you think, as the goblet in front of you squawks in distress. You wave your wand, reverting it back to its original form as a crow before proceeding to try again.

What do people say again? If you tell someone you can’t have it, they want it even more? Usual classroom days with Kuroo would have never left you wanting for friends or platonic affection. But now as Professor Binns drolled on, you found yourself missing the occasional paper airplanes Kuroo would send your way during times like these. Or the inside jokes you shared about Professor Trelawney, who he hated with a burning passion, even though he didn’t attend Divination.

Once classes were over, you decided to help Kuroo get a little better. Since you often stopped by the infirmary to drop off medicinal magical plants, you could say that you knew your way around here. Madam Pomfrey trusted you enough that you would mind your own business. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t pull in a few favours from time to time.

Your reflection stared back at you from the cabinet marked ‘Healing Potions.’ The frontmost bottle always freaked you out a little. Why couldn’t the makers of Skele-Gro taken a design class or two? Putting a skeleton on the cap of a medicinal potion surely couldn’t have been the best way to attract customers.

Other potions bubbled in their flasks as you shoved them away. Draught of the Living Death, was engraved on a bottle. Sleeping potion; use only in cases of extreme pain. Yikes. Was the red bottle to its side the one you were looking for? Babbling Potion Antidote. Use in large doses for immediate effect. Not this one either.

The blue bottle on the very end was probably the one. You pushed past the other bottles, some with disturbing symptoms described on them. A jolly cupid with rosy cheeks flew around the blue glass, fit as a fiddle. On the cork was engraved ‘Pepperup Potion.’ Exactly what you were looking for.

You pocketed the bottle in your bag and made your way across the hall. Classes were finally finished, judging from the sea of black robes engulfing the hall. You hopped over a trick step on the stairs and looked up. The Astronomy Tower should be empty by now. Professor Sinistra should be enjoying a hearty meal down at supper. You trudged up the winding staircases.

You opened the topmost door to be rewarded by a gust of fresh air. The balcony above was empty save for a figure sitting on the ledge. His red Gryffindor robes were draped over the stone walls. A parchment peacock preened over by the empty tables as two tabby cats chased a crumpled rat around the chairs. Monkeys slung their way around the chandelier as sparrows nested in the mahogany shelves. It was a zoo, brought alive by the lazy swishing of Kuroo’s wand.

“Kuroo,” you said. His head lolled over to where you were standing. Kuroo blinked slowly— exactly like a cat, you noted, and raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing here?”

You shuffled around in your bag. “Bokuto told me you were up here, and I thought that...”

“Ha?” Kuroo looked at you with a gelid distaste that stopped the vocal cords in your throat from working right then and there. He never looked at you like that. Did he have a problem with you? ‘He’s always stared at you like that when you aren’t looking, you know?’ egged the voice in the back of your head. That’s why he’s called you here. He hates you and wants you to bugger off.

“What the hell would I want with someone,” his eyes looked you up and down, “like you?”

“‘Like me?” Your mind stopped all other body processes as all your energy went to processing the words you had heard just now. “Are you implying something?”

“That you’re a half-witted witch,” he snarled. Kuroo hopped off the ledge to make his way over to you, “that couldn’t survive at Hogwarts even if I shoved all the books in the library down your big pie-hole?” Each word was interpolated by a languid step in your direction, backing you down to the cold walls that held the Tower up.

“I—” Kuroo leans on the wall, supported by an arm that pins you below his glare. Your muscles are held captive by his pernicious slights and the sheer denial that someone that treats, treated, you as nicely as Kuroo did could say things like this to you.

“I don’t even know why Hogwarts let people like you in.” He wrinkled his nose. “Hell, first time I saw you I thought you came in to replace Filch, the old bugger.” Okay, now this was just getting to be too much.

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask. Your brain wants it to come out as somewhat of a polite query, but your voice betrays your brain and lets it loose with the same shrill naivety a child would scream at their mother with. It almost cracks in the middle, but you push forward.

“What’s gotten into me? Honey, that’s what McGonagall was thinking when she sent the letter of acceptance to you.” Kuroo puts his hands on his hips and leans back — as if that would let him throw more insults with better finesse.

“No one likes you, see? That’s why you only go to those plants for comfort.”

“Shut up!” you screech. How could he say that with such nonchalance? It looked like he was being possessed by Peeves. How hard the poltergeist would laugh when he caught wind of this. You put your hands on his chest and push him away with the remaining strength in your arms. Kuroo staggers back, but quickly regains his balance. Out of your peripheral vision, you spot shards of red glass from the bottle. You don’t bother to clean it up as you try to distance yourself as far away as you can from the monster in front of you.

The Astronomy Tower, true to its name, towered over the rest of Hogwarts. Everything below lay in its gargantuan shadow, being a great place for picnics on hot summer days. It was even tall enough to shield the students from the rain, if you were unlucky enough to not know a Rain-Repelling Charm. The only thing that was collectively despised from it was its long, winding stairs.

The same ones you were stooped over right now. You could feel tears making their way over your eyelids, but then again, what did you have to cry for? It wasn’t like you were exceptionally close to Kuroo like he was with Kenma or something. You deserve to cry, you thought. He said all those horrible things; it was okay for you to feel insulted. Especially coming from him.

You gulped down another lump in your throat. One of his enchanted paper animals had hung onto your robes as you were making your way down, and was now perching on your knees. The cat with scribbled on whiskers and eyes lounged on your lap, unaware of the turmoil going on inside you. You clicked your tongue. If this was how Kuroo was going to humiliate you even further...

Then he could have a taste of his own medicine! You ripped up the innocent cat, setting it aflame for good measure. The smoke drifted out the vents above. Blood trickled from a cut on your index figure onto the stone stairs.

“Look what we have here,” a scratchy voice crooned. The blood and emotions hammering in your head inhibit your senses. With the right honeyed tone, you would have thought the voice in front of you belonged to the very man who spurned you moments ago.

“Go— go away, Kuroo!” You stand up, moving to go back to the dorms when a face that fills you with dread blocks your way.

“Kuroo? Well, well, well, who would’ve thought that Princess Plant Prick would have had a…” Peeves pokes his cheek with his finger. “Boy toy?” You’re able to at least shoot him a dirty look, but you stay in place in case anything happens. Who knows what fishy pranks he has up his sleeves?

“No?” He twirls around you in a flurry of ghostly white. “I’m guessing… crush?”

Peeves’s childish insulting was almost soothing. Different from those from Kuroo, Peeves’s jabs were more like one from a little sibling to another one. Rough on the outside, but well meaning on the inside. The tears seemed to stop their torrent a little, and your knees find themselves buckling back down on the stairs.

“Neither. Please leave me alone.” You take a handkerchief from your bag and wipe the mess on your face with it.

“You sure, Princess Plant Prick? I’m not sure someone in your state is in any condition to be left alone.” The poltergeist moved to take a seat on the window ledge beside you. The previously bright corridor darkened a little bit with the new obstruction.

“Certain—certainly” you choked, “not with anyone like you.”

“Oh? And you would prefer it if I was, say…” Peeves leaned in closer to you. You could almost see the mosaic through the pale film of his skin. “Kuroo?” You rolled your eyes at the poltergeist.

“See, I even made a wig to impersonate him if the occasion called for it!” With a snap of his fingers, he conjured a mop of what seemed to be black rooster feathers. Peeves set it on his head and smiled in imitation of Kuroo. You allowed yourself a small smile.

“Could have fooled me,” you said.

“And what if I did? If you thought that it was actually Kuroo here in my place?” You turned your head away, avoiding the question. “Assuming the previous events didn’t happen,” Peeves added hastily.

“We wouldn’t do anything, if that’s what you mean.” Peeves gave you the side eye.

You pondered a bit. What would you do if Kuroo was sitting here next to you? Would you push him away in fear of him making you hurt even more? No, Kuroo was the one to talk things through whenever there was a problem. So then why would he lash out at you when you didn’t do anything (as you remembered) wrong to him?

“I’m really starting to agree with him on your…” Peeves’s eyes raked your form up and down, “astuteness.”

“You heard us back there?”

“And on the Quidditch pitch.” Peeves lifted a finger. ”And in the greenhouses. And near the Fat Lady. And near that nasty painting of the raccoons on the third floor.” He held four fingers up. “And many more too.”

You tilted your head to the side. What did eavesdropping on conversations have to do with the situation? Seeing your confused expression, Peeves rolled his eyes and clapped his hands smack dab in front of your face.

“I have a bet with the other ghosts, darling! Snape’s diary is on the line here, so you better wisen up!” Now he was just leading you even further and further on from a simple answer. Peeves stood up from where he was sitting and floated back up the stairs, stopping a flight just above you. A trail of mist followed him.

“And you know, Princess Plant Prick,” Peeves called from upstairs, “he did reek of Babbling Potion, earlier today.”

“Babbling…” You sucked in a gust of air. The haze in your head finally cleared up, allowing you to see what you were missing the entire time. You pulled your mouth closed, not even realising that it had dropped to the floor in the first place. You tapped your feet vigorously on the stairs, formulating your next plan of action.

Reinforcements were needed.

The Gryffindor common room was empty save for the trio of friends that looked a little out of place with the absence of the fourth. Three pairs of shaky eyes met yours as you stood in front of the table where they were all huddled. Kenma gulped. “You met Kuroo, didn’t you?”

You grimaced, but tried as hard as you could to look at the fireplace on the other side of the room. “I did.”

“How bad did it hurt?”Akaashi asked. The edges of your eyes stung as fresh tears pricked your eyeballs like needles on a pincushion. You wiped them away with your fingers and put your hands on your hips.

“Only a little. Now come on, Kenma.” You put a hand on Kenma’s wrist and yanked him out from his sitting position. He was the best one that could help you for a task like this. “We’re going to make him regret it.”

There was a potion supply available to students filled with harmless ingredients that wouldn’t harm a fly, but was enough for the potion you had in mind. Bokuto and Akaashi eventually started trailing behind you, and after enough explanation, they were on board with the plan that you had.

After four gruelling hours of rotating between actually making the potion and keeping guard in the boys bathroom at 12 o’clock, the finished product was finally in your hands. With a swish of your wand, all trace of the four of you was gone.

“Let’s do this again, shall we?”

The boyish flouncing of the previous day, turned into an arrogant saunter the very next. Yesterday’s naive smile had soured like spoiled milk and turned into a shit-eating smirk that was fouler than Miya Atsumu’s when Slytherin won a game. The potion still hadn’t worn off, Kenma noted. It must have been potent. Luckily, he and (Y/N) had been prepared for this, with a little help from Bokuto and Akaashi.

Kuroo gives a curt nod in Bokuto and Akaashi’s direction on the other side of the table as he moves to sit down next to Kenma. He doesn’t take his eyes off of the scrumptious feast laid in front of him.

“So,” he says as he piles eggs and toast onto his plate, “anyone finally coming to skip with me today?” No one answers at first. Then, being the brave soul he is, Bokuto replies to his friend’s question.

“I don’t know man,” Bokuto says. “You got a lot of flak from Flitwick yesterday after you skipped. You’re lucky your grades from last week saved you.”

“Did they, now?” Kuroo drawls. He swills the juice in his goblet a few times before downing it one gulp. The goblet magically refills itself as Kuroo sets it down.

His mouth moves to make another brash statement, but contorts into a fanged scowl when you walk up the halls. Kenma and Akaashi don’t even have to look at you to know that it’s you coming down to sit next to them.

“Fancy seeing you three here,” you say. Kuroo’s eyes twitch as you so blatantly ignore his presence. There are no signs of the pain he inflicted on you yesterday, and you seem as chipper as you can get. Frustration bubbles in his chest, at the thought of someone being so happy, even after he did all of those things to you. If you could just show an ounce of inconvenience at—

Something splashes in his face. The fiery undertones of fall and cinnamon tell him that it’s from his pumpkin juice. Kuroo draws his wand in reflex, but nothing else seems to be out for him. Worse still, the four people around him seem to pay him no attention. He catches Kenma giving you a short glance. Pearly droplets of orange liquid drip down your finger.

“What did you put in my drink?” Kuroo mutters. You pay him no mind and go back to your cereal with your soggy fingers.

“Hey.” Kuroo raps on the wooden table with his fist. “What did you put in my drink?” His volume has increased by now. So much so that the trio next to you has taken notice.

“Nothing,” you say.

“If she was actually trying to poison you, wouldn’t you think Dumbledore or McGonagall would have caught on sooner?” Kenma asked, trying to reason with his friend.

Kuroo deflates a bit, leaning back before looking at the goblet in his hands. He takes a long sip from it, his eyes never leaving you the entire time. Perhaps he did see the drop you put into it, but he shows no signs that he knows you know.

And then it happens. Kuroo slammed the now empty cup on the table. He clenched the golden material until his knuckles reddened, paled, and went back to his normal skin tone again. Something from the back of his throat sounded like it wanted to claw its way out of his mouth. People on each side of you were starting to look over. Any minute now, you think, biting your lip. You had read that the antidote’s effects could be a little painful, but you hadn’t prepared yourself for any of this.

Kuroo’s closing his eyes shut in pain. Every nerve in his throat has gotten ten times stronger, every breath next to him getting amplified by a hundred times. Ten thousand needles prick his throat as he gasps for air in the cramped space he is in right now. Kuroo forces an eye open to look into the eyes of his assailant: you.

“You little—” he rasps.

But just as he is about to force another curse word to come out of his mouth, all of the needles in him force their way out. His lungs suddenly fill with air as the pain in his neck and head dull to normal. His eyesight sharpens to its usual levels; which means he can feel the other eyes on him right now.

Kuroo sits straight again as four pairs of eyes take in his current condition. They all have their lips slightly parted, eyebrows furrowed. The one in front of him looks the most expectant. Kuroo closes his eyes and shakes his head. He opens them again to be greeted by a sudden rush of light in his eyes and… your hesitant form in front of him.

Orange droplets drip from your fingers, a remnant from his pumpkin juice. There is a paper cut you got from yesterday when...

“Hey, listen, I—” Kuroo starts. But your trembling lip and reddening eyes are too much for him to go on with his sentence.

Your feelings also seem to be too much for yourself. Even though you’re in the middle of the Great Hall, where anyone could pick out drama even if it ran around in an Invisibility Cloak, ‘discrete’ is not something you have apparently mastered.

“Hey!” he calls out after you. But by the time anyone can react, you’re out of the hall, face buried in your long, black, sleeve as you avoid the conflict. Kuroo is half-standing out of his seat. An arm raised that is lowered disappointedly as you make your way out.

The rest of the day goes on as usual. The sheer proximity of being in the same room with Kuroo is able to make your heart lurch in your ribcage. You want to have him so close by your side, so close that you can hear the steady thumping of one another’s hearts. So close that the very pheromones that make up his scent and self are etched into your mind as deep as they can possibly go.

But at the same time, you hate being in his presence. His observant eyes that scan the room like a predator its prey linger a little too long on your back. If you could, you would put a thousand miles of distance between you two, until the mere memory of him is a speck of sand in the vast plains of the universe. Of course it’s not his fault for anything that happened, but still...

It’s only later during lunch when everything seems to be pulled back together. For a fleeting moment, you pass Kenma. He mutters a quick, “Meet him in the greenhouses after class,” before disappearing among the sea of black robes. You think to call after him, but you realise that Kuroo would have easily been the one that had sent him. And Kuroo always had a plan.

So when you open the door to the greenhouse later, it doesn’t surprise you that there is absolutely no one there. Save for a certain Quidditch Captain.

He’s playing with the lilies. Your lilies. The same ones that had made their way around your head the first time he had really approached you in the Great Hall that time. They snap up happily at the slightest brush of his fingers that easily retract back from the lethal petals.

“You’ve made friends with the lilies,” you say. Kuroo stills in his seat on the stool. He turns to face you and blinks slowly, like a cat would.

“If you don’t want to be here right now, then… I understand. I understand.” Kuroo stands up. He holds his arms out in a show of surrender. “So will you let me take up some of your time this afternoon?”

You teeter between the balls of your feet. The words want to come out of your mouth so badly, but your heart seems to be keeping your lips shut. You count to five.

“Go on,” you say.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I get it if you don’t forgive me, I said some really bad stuff back there. If you want to cut off all ties with me, feel free to, and—” You put a hand on one of his broad shoulders.

“Kuroo.” He stops all his rambling and looks up at your eyes. “You were under a potion, it’s alright. I… I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“I do!” Your arms find their way around his neck. His jaw tickles your shoulder as the rumble of his laugh shakes your body.

“Thanks," you catch him whispering into your ear. None of you say anything as you dangle from his neck in the bone-splitting hug you give him. You linger for a while before peeling your arms back. Kuroo wants them back in their rightful place, his neck, so bad. “So are we back to normal, now?”

“Only if you’ll let me trash-talk you as revenge.” You both laugh in unison.

“Hey, (Y/N)," Kuroo says. “Can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything, Kuroo. What’s up?”

He takes your fingers between his. You find yourself walking backwards and backwards in a twisted dance. And Kuroo holds the lead.

Your back makes contact with the wall behind you. Hot breath fans your neck. Kuroo holds out a hand to hold himself up, effectively trapping you between the wall and his tall body. You could just as easily whip out your wand and hex him where the sun doesn’t shine. But this was too good to be true. Didn’t all teenagers dream of someone doing this to them?

Now that someone’s finally doing it to you, you can only freeze as your brain goes haywire.

“Kuroo! What are you—”

“I like you,” he says. It’s quick and simple, but smoother than a drawn out love letter from those horrible Cupids that Gilderoy Lockhart had sent that year. It makes your blood roar in your ears, yet the only sound that comes through to your brain are the three words that just came out of Kuroo’s mouth.

“A lot.” The words come out of your mouth at the same time. Kuroo looks up, meeting a playful smile on your lips. He raises his eyebrows.

“How did you?” he asks. You cock a shoulder in his direction.

“I have my ways.”

Instead of pressing further, Kuroo just bows his head down between his arms, you may add, are still entrapping you. He laughs. “If you know only that much, then let me elaborate.” Your face suddenly feels very warm.

‘Well of course, you would, it’s a greenhouse, (Y/N)!’ says Common Sense. The giddy teenager overtakes you and plays it off as Kuroo’s hot, and extremely close, breath.

“You’re really cute when you’re embarrassed, aren’t you?” He taps your nose. You want to swat his hand away, but remember that your arms are currently trapped under his much bigger ones.

“You’re even cuter when you teach me Herbology at 3 in the morning. And way cuter when you have a milk mustache during breakfast.” Kuroo had removed his hands by now, but it still felt like there were invisible tacks pinning your arms to the wall behind you.

“Am I?” you asked.

“Nope.” His sudden statement has you furrowing your eyebrows, but he quickly follows it up with a flick to your forehead. “Silly. Do you think I like you based on physical appearance alone?”

You manage a giggle. Kuroo leans back on the wall as he observes the greenhouse around him. You scoot closer to him and take his fingers into your hand. They're calloused after years of holding brooms, but they're soft and plump. He doesn't seem to mind when you wordlessly slip your hand into his.

Kuroo turns to look at you. He smiles. "We should spend more time in the greenhouses, you know?"

“Yeah, I think dates like this would be really good for our relationship," you say.

“Our… what?”

“Our relationship.” You pull your hand away from his. “Do you not want to?”

Now the positions are switched. Your hands lock Kuroo from both sides as you pin him against the wall. His lips are inches from yours.

"Can I?" you ask. Kuroo chuckles. He pulls your jaw closer to his, pressing both of your lips together in the process.

"Well this didn't go as planned," he comments, before pulling you in for another kiss.

BONUS:

Kenma passes Kuroo in their dorms. "You're welcome," he says.

Kuroo is about to reply, but the blond Chaser has already settled into bed.

83 notes · View notes

starwesker · 5 years

Text

Cassette tape: rockin love

Request by @littleraton:Hi! How’re you? Good, I hope. (if not, I hope you feel better ❤️) [i might be rambling, sorry] I was hoping that you could write a fic of either the reader or dean confessing to the other w/a cassette mix they made (either when they’re alone in the impala or the bunker) thank you 🎃❤️❤️

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: LOTS OF FLUFF LIKE VERY FLUFFY, all in Dean's POV

An: there will be a short author's note at the end...

Dean's POV

There's this girl that I've known for about 5 years. She would help us on hunts, my brother and I would return the favor. Then there were times when she would come to the bunker needing assistance or to be healed, and once she was healed she would leave, she would leave in the middle of the night when we are asleep leaving notes on the library table saying 'I will see you soon boys don't miss me too much' she would leave little notes like that for us to see.

I would be lying to myself if I didn't say that I miss her because I miss her so damn much. I have never developed feelings for someone in a long time, every time I see her come to the bunker and she's hurt my heart breaks a little inside and I'm the one who cares for her, Sam was there just to help if I wasn't there. When she leaves it crushes me, I just want her to stay, I miss her, call me being overprotective but I hate it when she's out there by herself. I know she can take care of herself because damn that girl is a badass and that's one of the reasons why I fell in love with her and why I need her to stay.

There she was again...

My phone ringing and her caller ID coming up with a picture of her and I together leaning against baby, I loved that picture it was the only picture I have of us together. He remembers that day like it was yesterday, after a successful hunt they went out to go get burgers and Sam was getting the food when he couldn't resist the moment so he secretly took a picture of us and it was perfect. I was in mid laughter while y/n was smiling and looking at me with admiration. When I was done reminiscing about that day I immediately answered the phone.

I barely even had time to say hello before I heard her voice.

"Hey Dean, you're gonna hate me right now" she spoke softly, her voice was hard to understand.

"What happened Y/n?" I asked.

She sighed before she spoke, "I was hunting some vamps and I thought I could handle it on my own and I kinda did but I'm seriously injured again" she winces as she spoke.

I was furious that she got herself hurt again but I sighed and told her I would go and get her.

"Ah there's my hero, but hurry please Dean" She hung up, sending him her location.

I told Sam where I was going and he insisted in going with me but I told him no. Then he got a smirk on his face, I knew what that smirk was. I stopped him before he said anything.

"No not yet Samny, I will but I need find the right time and its not the right time" I smiled at Sam and he nodded.

"Call if you need anything" Sam yelled as I left.

When I got to her she was sitting outside blood everywhere I didn't know if it was hers or the vamps. Then when I got closer I knew it was hers.

"Y/n?" I called her name, she opened her beautiful (y/e/c) eyes.

"Dean my knight in shinning armor has come to rescue me" she winced as she spoke.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Its a long story, can you just take me back to the bunker please I'm bleeding out here for god's sake Winchester" She yelled but winced once again.

"Sure thing my lady" I said while picking her up slowly and carefully.

"I'm not your lady Winchester and just hurry to the bunker" she smirked.

I just smiled and thought to myself not yet you aren't but you will be. I carried her into my car making sure she was comfortable in the backseat.

When I arrived at the bunker I immediately tended to her wounds like I always do and make sure shes ok and that she has everything she needs.

There's one thing that still needs to be said but that can wait till she gets some rest.

While Sam and I are looking at possible cases she wakes up and makes her way to the library.

"Hi Sam, Hi Dean" She spoke out softly.

Sam smiled and said hi back she sat in the chair next to Dean.

"What are you guys doing?" She asked.

"Researching" Sam spoke, "well I am Dean might be looking at porn again" Sam chuckled,this made Y/n giggle. I love her giggle, scratch that I love everything about her.

"So, Y/n I need to ask you something" I cleared my throat softly as I spoke.

"What is it Dean?" She leaned back in her chair looking at me.

"Sam and I have discussed this recently" I spoke softly. She nodded and gestured me to go on.

"We think you should stay here with us in the bunker and once you get better you can help us on hunts and you can always help us" I felt like I jumbled my words all together.

"I don't want burden you guys" She said.

"Y/n, you are not going to burden us" Sam chimed in. She looked at me for my answer and she knew but my look I wanted her to stay. She thought about it for a while before agreeing that she would stay.

A month had passed by and she was still here it has been amazing having her here but there's one problem. My love for her has only been growing, Sam knew about this he could tell. He kept telling me that I needed to confess to her. I just waved him off like I always do or ignored him.

Then it wasn't until the day I saw her wearing one of my flannels. She looked amazing it, there were so many inappropriate thoughts going through my head and I couldn't stop any of them.

I cleared my throat before I spoke, "sorry if I scared you but that's my flannel" I smirked.

"Oh really I didn't notice, it's quite comfy" she smiled and winked.

I really wanted to bend her over the table in the library and... my mind really needed to stop.

As months passed by the feelings for Y/n only escalated and I needed to confess to her but I've never been good with my words, so I had to think of something to come up with to help me confess not feelings for her. I thought about so many ideas and I even talked to Sam about it. Then it came to me I knew what I was going to do.

I spent hours making this for her, I made her a cassette tape with songs that would maybe have a clue to how much I love her. This would be perfect for her, she appreciates classic rock songs just as much as I do. That is another reason why I fell so deeply in love with her.

Now its just taking her to a secluded area somewhere either here in the bunker or I could take her somewhere in the impala. I think the impala would be the best things because Sammy doesn't approve of our choice of music.

A day later while we were sitting at the library trying to find a case, I made eye contact with Sam to make sure its ok if I take off with y/n. He smiled and knew he was ok with that.

"Y/n,me and you let's go get some food" I smiled, while grabbing my jacket that was hanging on the chair.

She got up without hesitation and we were off. As we were driving I was very silent, that's because I had to plan out how I was going to do this how I was going to show her the cassette tape I made for her.

"Dean? Are you ok?" I heard her say.

"I'm peachy, sweetheart" I winked at her, I saw the light shade of pink that crept on her cheeks as she smiled at me.

As I was driving, I realized I had no exact destination to where I was going. Until I saw a dirt road on the right side of the road so I turned down the road, I had explored with Sam once. Just to make sure it was a perfect place.

The night was beautiful, this reminds of all the times her and I were talking about everything on the hood of the impala. It was perfect the stars above us shining brightly, the moonlight shinning down on us and the city lights over the cliff a beautiful sight, this was the perfect area. Once I saw this place I knew it was the perfect place.

"Dean why are we here?" She asked me.

"We are here because it's a beautiful night and I wanted to share this with you. I took out the cassette tape and put it into the cassette player in the impala.

The first song that played was Lady by Styx

I knew this song was perfect for her because of how perfect the lyrics are and how much they relate to her.

'Lady from the moment I saw you standing all alone'

'You gave all the love that I needed'

Her eyes lit up as soon as she realized what I had done.

"Dean.." she gasped.

"Y/n, I'm in love with-" before I could finish my sentence she crashed her lips into mine, her kiss was soft and delicate.

As the next song played Whole lotta love by Led Zeppelin

This song couldn't be any more better than this moment because this moment was the best of my life. As she stopped, resting our foreheads against each other.

"I'm in love with you too" She smiled and kissed me once more.

This moment was the greatest I couldn't be more happier in this moment alone.

"Do I get to add to this cassette tape you made or no?" She asked.

I smiled, "you can add any song you want I won't judge you" I kissed her again.

Nothing can ruin this moment or be any more better.

An: so I'm finally on summer break but I'll be moving so I'll be busy but I will get to writing much more now and sorry this took so long Finals really kicked my butt... I'm done now so keep those requests coming. I put songs in here if you wanna listen to them but I hope you enjoy this i tried my best

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagines #supernatural fanfics #supernatural x reader

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mattzerella-sticks · 6 years

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A Whole Lotta Love (a Dean/Cas Coda to 14x09 “The Spear”)

With a broken tape deck, Dean and Cas have a long stretch of silence to fill. But just how do they do it? And they say driving helps take your mind off of things... even forget dangling pianos hanging over one's head.

“You know what would be good right now?”

Cas glances at Dean from out the corner of his eye, the other man focused, for once, on the road ahead. “Some Zepp,” he says, “I can picture it – us tearing down this open stretch of highway with Immigrant Song playing in the background. Oh! Or maybe Kashmir…”

“That would be nice, yes,” Cas sighs, “…if our tape deck weren’t broken.”

“Yeah – yeah…” Dean drums his hands on the wheel. “Y’know, I don’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve driven this long in silence? Not that this isn’t nice. It is. Its just music –“

“Fills the background,” Cas finishes his thought, “adds layers…depth… security.”

Dean murmurs his agreement. They drift back into themselves, the tides of their conversation slowly receding from shore. It’s been like that since they left the Bunker. Every so often one of them would start speaking, only to lull back into the quiet. Dean would point out different road signs, crack a joke or two to Cas. And Cas would smile, respond with his own observation; maybe a memory that would have both of them grinning at each other. Enjoying the shared moment.

“I feel like we haven’t had a lot of this,” Dean says, unprovoked.

“A lot of what?”

“This.” Dean circles his finger in the air. “You and me. Shootin’ the breeze instead of demons or vamps or whatever else supernatural creature the world throws at us.”

“Really?” Cas asks him, “Has it been that long since you and I were… alone?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, blushing, “Not that I’ve been… counting, or whatever. But between Michael, Jack, and the growing network of hunters it’s hard to just find time to think or… breathe.”

“Those seem like things you don’t need another person for.”

“I like having you near when I do those things.”

“Even breathing?”

“Even breathing…”

Cas watches Dean pay the road more attention than he’s ever seen him give it. Like the stretch of asphalt holds all the answers their destination was promised. Its unnerving that he thinks good safety practices as weird behavior, but he misses having Dean’s eyes on him rather than what’s ahead. ‘We’ve had enough luck to not crash so far… I’m sure we can push it a few more times.’

“Hey Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“How was Heaven?” Cas pauses, unsure of how to answer. Dean fills the vacuum with his own drawling ramble. “I mean, you didn’t talk about it much after bringing Jack back and – you said it was in trouble? I know since Gabriel didn’t make it back, stuff up there was running kinda off and – I mean, if you needed to go and make sure… it’s not like I can stop you –“

“My service to Heaven is over,” he tells him, “I have done… all I could. And I feel I have repaid my debts to the other angels. Naomi told me as such –“

“Naomi? Ol’ girl’s still kicking?”

“Apparently it takes more than one old scribe and a rebel angel to kill her.” Cas chuckles, “She has been keeping the peace among all seven of my brothers and sisters that serve under her now.”

“It’s gotten that bad?” he asks.

Cas nods. “I don’t know how Heaven might survive. And that might be a problem we deal with later, once our Michael problem is solved.”

“We?”

“Of course… Dean,” Cas says, “you didn’t think I would go back, after all this was over. Did you?” The thought stings, but he doesn’t let it fester. ‘Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Castiel…’

Dean shakes his head furiously. “No, no I would – not realistically, after all we… but…”

“But…”

“It’s stupid…”

“If it’s causing you this much stress, I assure you it isn’t.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Dean sighs, grip tightening on the wheel. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m gonna blink and – poof! You’ll disappear. It’s irrational and dumb but it… it sticks. Even though you’ve proven time and time again you’re here to stay and I want to believe it. Except this little part of me thinks it might be… too good to be true, y’know? Kind of why I wanted only us on this I… I needed you here beside me.”

“Dean I…” ‘When you finally allow the sun to shine on your face… that’s when I’ll collect you.’ “I don’t plan on leaving. Ever. I wish there was something I could do to relieve you of that worry.”

“I don’t think you ever can but… being here it – it shuts it down.”

His heart aches, yearns, and reaches out to the other man. But Cas keeps it behind steel walls, ensuring his secret never comes out. ‘It’s for the best… for all of us.’

“God that was – this is what I mean,” Dean warbles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “If we had music we wouldn’t – it’s stuffy, isn’t it? Could you roll down – I’m gonna roll mine, I think we need some air, so could you…?” They leave the windows half-up. “Yeah… that’s better.”

He still looks uncomfortable. Dean shifts continuously. Sliding his hands up and down the wheel, taking one off to lean either on the door or to fiddle with the radio. Cas suggested they turn it on, when Dean discovered the tape deck was broken. “I don’t… it’s not the music I wanted you to hear.”

Cas understands how much music means to Dean. What it means to probably every person on Earth. Each vibration and note a key that unlocks a part of the soul. And when someone shares music, they’re giving you a chance to know who they are and what they feel.

Dean handed him the mixtape ages ago. He barely looked Cas in the eye when he did it, muttering all the while. “I know Metatron beamed probably the entire discography of the world into your head but I… figured you might want to hear what good music sounds like for yourself.” Cas enjoyed it immensely. He found himself banging his head to the loud, fast tracks. He crooned along to the power ballads. Even in moments alone, Cas hummed the melody, the words on a loop in his mind as he performed for no one yet also one very special person.

“You need coolin’… baby I’m not foolin’…” It’s a low whisper, his gravely voice shredding the words in a discordant tone. “I’m gonna send you back to schoolin’…”

“Way down inside,” Dean joins in, his own voice just as rough to hear, “honey you need it.” He finally looks away from the road, to Cas, his jaw slack with awe. “I’m gonna give you my love…”

“I’m gonna give you my love, oh…”

Together. “Wanna whole lotta love… Wanna whole lotta love…” They’re smiling, infected with the rhythm. As Baby purrs down the highway, Dean and Cas Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” from the top of their lungs, voices echoing into the clear, blue sky. At some points, Dean forces Cas to play the air guitar. And he does, indifferent to how ridiculous he might look. Their singing mixes with laughter, and near the end the melody gets lost in the shuffle.

Gasping for breath, Dean glances at Cas one more time before returning his gaze on the road. “What made you pick that song?”

“I… I don’t know,” Cas confesses, “When I would listen to your… your mixtape I wound it back time and time again – just to that song. I think it’s my favorite.”

“Not Stairway to Heaven?”

��Cas chuckles. “No this one… means more to me.” He finds something to distract himself, fiddling with the map in hand. Cas checks a passing road sign. “I think we’re coming up on the turn… you might want to switch lanes.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Dean turns the wheel, Baby cruising over onto the right-most lane. They make it off the highway, closing the last couple of miles between them and the Spear. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“That song means a lot to me, too. I’m glad you… appreciate it, same as me. S’why I put it at the end; kinda… ties it all together, in a way.” His neck is on fire, the red blush creeping up from behind his collar with unmatched speed. “I think we’re here… sheesh, what a dump.”

“Well, it’s quite literally a dump, Dean.”

“I know but you’d think she’d clean up since we’re paying her a house call and all.”

“…She doesn’t know that we’re coming. It’s the element of surprise?”

“Cas,” Dean says, his voice tinged with exasperation and something else, “…keep being you.” He drives Baby between two tall stacks of crushed aluminum and plastic. “Roll the windows back up, don’t want any stench messing up our ride.” Cas does so as Dean parks. He readies to leave, but something drapes over his hand, stalling him.

“Hey, Cas…”

“…Yes, Dean?”

“I – um, I don’t know,” he rubs at his neck with his other hand, looking at Cas through his lashes. “I mean, I do know – it’s just…” Dean laughs, smile stretched wide across his face.

The sight parts the clouds within Cas’s mind, and he feels a flicker of warmth burning inside his chest. “What?”

“I think maybe I can get this out but… just give me a minute?” he asks, “There’s… a lot going on in my head.” Cas allows him to gather his thoughts, eyes never straying from his face.

Except there’s a slight buzzing to his left, like a gnat flying to close to his ear. Cas turns to see what it is and –

Duma stands a few feet away. Except it’s not Duma, it’s the Empty. They watch them, face etched in a cannibalistic grin. Behind them swirls a dark energy, a mass of shadowy tendrils swaying, as if ready to strike.

The clouds roll back in.

And Cas pulls away. “Maybe later,” he apologizes, “Dark Kaia might know that we’re here and… move. From what you’ve told me she can be very tricky.” Dean’s expression changes in an instant, and even though he tries to cover it up, Cas could see the flicker of disappointment flashing behind his eyes. As if Cas chopped down a tree in his emerald forest that took ages to grow.

“Yeah… yeah.”

Cas swings the door open, stepping out into the waste yard. Dean follows at a slower pace, head down, already readying the bag of weapons they brought with them. He watches the other man, pain and sadness welling inside of him, because of what he had to do. ‘Not now… I can’t – I can never…’ He slams the door. ‘I may never have it, but Dean deserves it.’

“You seem good, lately. Happy, even…”

#Supernatural #Spn #Spn14 #Supernatural fanfiction #Spn fanfic #Spn coda #14x09 #The Spear #Dean Winchester #Castiel #Destiel #Destiel fanfic

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bam-monsterhospital · 7 years

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just. just gonna write a big ol info dump. don’t mind me, just wanna blab about my dumb fantasy doctor ;u; nbd

so. ethel. ethel montressor. doctor montressor. yup.

her kind of, driving force, the root of everything she’s learned and become invested in, i wanted it to stem from this -actually prob really unhealthy- fear of death. fear of death and mortality and finiteness. existence is nice, and no one REALLY really has a handle on the nothingness of death, and even in fantasy-land people aren’t living with their family’s ghosts like it’s some happy sitcom... at least not often.

so, she got into healing at an early age, got into medicine since religion = no. she went at it with a more scholarly scientific approach, and through that and looking for reliable alternatives that could have enough potency to compete with light-based priestly standard healing magics, she found out about blood and people using blood to power spells and whatever it is blood mages do in fantasy-land where mages use fire/frost/lightning magic rather than cooler shit. so since her approach to medicine was so very bodily-focused, why hasn’t blood magic been used like that before?

i dunno, i seriously doubt she’s innovating anything totally new out of the void -bound to have been people coming to these ‘hay wouldn’t it be cool if we could just magically effect the blood directly to keep it from running out of frank’s gaping chest wound?’ conclusions before her- but in fantasy-land with fire/frost/lightning wizards, and tree-druids, and light-religious peoples and that being like... your standard magic users............ it doesn’t seem to be very common.

so like. death. tackling death. she gets really invested in this newage blood-is-the-answer! i’m-totally-redefining-the-medical-world research, but like, she’s hit 40, and is human.. not a lotta time to continue research. sooooooooooooooo vampirism.

yup vampirism. it’s a quick fix for time, pluuuuus vampires deal in blood, maybe greater knowledge can be gained from that sort of perspective.

anyway, so she botches turning, and has gnarly scars from it, and like, yeah she’s a vamp, but i dunno i don’t see her having any transformative mist/bat abilities. just all the weaknesses. but hay, more time right? plus better blood awareness. yay.

so research continues, and yeah she likes healing people, that’s a big part of the interest in all this in the first place. and since she started to dabble in plague doctoryness before she turned and before she went deep down the blood magic hole, she keeps that title and uses the garb to ward away the sun. she doesn’t subscribe to the miasma ‘oh no the vapors are evil’ theories of disease and instead vehemently pushes that it is instead liquids; liquids! droplets contain contagions! that’s what spreads sickness! it’s all the liquids! oh noooo! (because, y’know. blood. and also it’s fantasy-land so no cell theory or virus knowledge like for us. duh). so like that’s her excuse for all the protective plaguedoctor garb.

plus like, even though she’s undead and can’t get infected, she does actually believe in her whole liquids=disease theories and likes to keep things clean for her patients/anyone she comes in contact with -sterility being impossible in fantasyland buuuuuuuuut shhhh- suuuuuper clean.with soap. and washing.

so yeah. i always saw her as like, semi-nomadish. sticking to smaller towns to try and heal sick and make money doing so.... so she can continue on with her research and not arouse too much suspicion. well, suspicion for the wrong thing. and like, it’s all about death and stopping it, right? negating the problem of death. moreso negating the problem of nothingness, of the void, of non-existence. and undeath gives more time, but you’re not invincible, PLUS the sun/light weakness is something she’d like to find a workaround to as well because duh.

and the blood problem is awesome because it also works into her research and shit. so she collects samples form anywhere and anything she can get at. patients who can afford to lose some, wild animals, etc etc. she’ll even stoop to suggesting bleeding techniques -despite considering them a waste of blood... buuuut they’re practical for her needs-, again for patients that can afford to lose the blood. ye.

i could go ooooooon and ooooooon and on and on about ethel ;u; she combines my favourite things all together at once.

#rpg stuff #character rambling #ethel #;u;#i always figured her at like... mid 40s #yeah #i think she might also drink to mask all the existential dread and loneliness #but i don't know how alcohol would work with her situation #so... shrug emoji

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britneyshakespeare · 7 years

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What are your top 5 favorite books (about the sleepover ask)?

hmmm… i’m not quite good at reading many traditional books if i’m being honest. my adhd causes me to read a lot less than i wish i did. but when i do read it’s rarely ever like, a traditional novel. i read a lotta graphic novels bc i’m a big nerd and a handful of biographies and classics and books of poetry. so this is gonna be… pretty eclectic to say the least.

all time??? i do not know for Certain what that might be but uhhh Oscar Wilde’s been my #1 boy since I was like 15 and my favorite of his works is Lady Windermere’s Fan. His comedies for me were his greatest pursuit, and though The Importance of Being Earnest and An Ideal Husband get a lot more attention than the Fan, I feel like it’s the best balance of comedy and interesting story-telling that he did. It’s balances the levity and wit of Earnest with the drama and suspense of An Ideal Husband or A Woman of No Importance.

I really enjoyed Vamp: The Rise and Fall of Theda Bara by Eve Golden when I bought and read it in late 2015-early 2016ish. I was gettin mad into the history of silent film and I just thought it was epically tragic how one of the silver screen’s first superstars had most of her films destroyed/lost in the infamous Fox film vault fire of 1937. And anyone who was old enough to see and understand her movies at the time they came out are definitely, definitely dead, but it was so scrupulously researched and detailed, even her pre-movie star days it felt like I had the concept of Theda Bara in my mind so greatly enriched in each chapter. And as far as I know that’s really the only comprehensive biography on her, and it’s a damn good one. And God, do I want more than anything for a bunch of her films to be miraculously recovered/rediscovered in my lifetime.

Spider-Man: Blue by Jeph Loeb and illustrated by Tim Sale is a really beautiful retelling of the human relationships between uhhh some of my favorite characters of all time, namely Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson but also it does some necessary retconning of Gwen Stacy (ie giving her a personality because the original 1960s-70s Marvel writers failed to do that before they killed her off, because you’ll be shocked and aghast to hear it but artists and writers aimed at mainly little boys didn’t really care to develop their female characters much, and the intriguing personality of MJ is more happenstance than anything at all feminist in intention). It’s a pretty quick read as it was only a 6-issue miniseries in the early 2000s. It was one of the first things I read when I was first getting into the Spidey comics for the first time when I was about 14 or 15, and since what initially drew me to Peter Parker as a character was the humanizing story-telling between him and the supporting characters around the action (particularly his relationship with MJ), it was a really good start. Also the art is just really beautiful.

The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats edited by Richard J. Finneran. I keep this book at my bedside table and I read it, a lot, especially when I can’t sleep. I go to it for inspiration, entertainment, insight, curiosity; there’s a lot I admire about Yeats as a writer, and there are some good explanatory notes by the editor. It’s very well put-together, mostly if not entirely in chronological order of original publication. Yeats is one of those poets I read, and reread several times in a row because his work is so artfully crafted and I’ll take in new ideas each time I reread them. I love Yeats and I love his poetry. I’m just a W. B. Yeats fucker out here tryna make it out in the real world.

American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis. Hey, finally, a modern fucking novel! I like many people saw the movie version directed by Mary Harron starring Christian Bale before reading the novel, and that’s definitely a great adaptation of the novel. Don’t get me wrong. But it’s a very comprehensive (perhaps even bloated) and concerningly well-detailed book in its original telling. There weren’t a lot of changes from page to screen I had a major problem with, I just think they were better suited for a literary medium than a film one. And what Ellis writes is very much like a modern retelling of Dorian Gray’s story, except with no portrait, and instead of being a critique of posh Victorian elites it’s a scathing critique of the culture around consumerism and wealth, particularly in the rich young white male, from the perspective of Patrick Bateman. Bateman is every bit arrogant, self-important, and hedonistic as Gray was. He gets away with beyond debauchery and serious acts of violence he should be charged for (whether or not the reader interprets the whole thing as Bateman’s delusion, which is purposely kept ambiguous in both the film and the novel). It’s a great, very important book.

thank you so much for sending me this!!! i love you and i love sounding off about shit i like

send me sleepover asks

#long post #shecomesincolors #dianswered

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fyrapartnersearch · 5 years

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Twilight but Gay and also Dark (or Twilight inspired OCS)

Name:Fennel, you can call me Fenn! Used to go by Adra Age: Early 20’s Email: [email protected]. I only roleplay through email. Timezone: I live in almost the smack middle of the USA, so it’s CST I think! I reply at least once a day generally, but sometimes I get caught up in life and can’t reply for a few days to a week or so. :P

Hello!

This ad again, ROUND TWO! I made the same one back in 2018, but everything fizzled out rather quickly due to a lot of extremely personal stuff, and I put roleplaying on hold until I was in a better place and deleted my old LJ account. So here I am again! New and improved and itching to get into the swing of things once more!

If I seem familiar (I used to go by Adra) and we had something lined up, shoot me another message if you’re interested in picking things up again. Or if you emailed me and I never managed to respond, give it a try once more.

Once again, disclaimer: Twilight like, objectively sucks. Let’s be honest. And yet here I still am! I adore it in all its awful, awful glory. Maybe its because I loved it so when I was twelve, who knows. I’m very critical of Twilight and the stuff Meyer wrote into its lore, so you can expect heavy editing on that front. Basics of what I’m looking into: no anti-Native racism, it’s gay, everyone’s older, there’s freaky eerie supernatural mysteries going on in the rainy town of Forks, Washington! We’re giving this thing a complete overhaul, baby. Stick along for the ride if you want!

SUPER long ad, sorry! Just wanna clear out my main ideas first.

In regards to werewolves, we completely nix all of the anti-Native racism she wrote into the lore. Keep in mind that this is essentially a total plot overhaul since so much of it is tied to the original story. The original members of the Pack can still be characters, but they’re just regular humans and allies. ZERO messing with the Quiluete tribe and Native cultures in general. No imprinting. I wanna function more from a standpoint of “real” werewolves mentioned in the series with a couple tweaks: just regular people who turn into werewolves via being bitten and transform under the full moon, but beyond that DEFINITELY not having an entire pack of werewolves be Native or have them all be POC in general with the racist connotations to be made there. Werewolves in general are pretty rare, we stick with the Volturi having hunted them nearly to the point of extinction. This is a plot point later on.

In regards to the Cullens, I’m not into Jasper, sorry. Meyer can try to get me to care about a Confederate soldier all she wants, but that’s not gonna happen. He’s not part of the Cullen coven. Another note: the Cullens aren’t the Cullens! Not all of them, at least. They don’t use being a family as a cover story which is both just really inconvenient in general as a cover and I’m with Jessica on this: it’s weird that they’re all together even if they aren’t related when they’re pretending to be adopted siblings. We also nix vampirism making you white (which, WHAT?? Stephenie. Stephenie.) There are vampires of color! I’m also open to mixing up the Cullens and the other (white) characters in general so they don’t all have to be white, too. Basically just a total overhaul of the racist worldbuilding she put into the series. We’re here to have some fun!

With all that out of the way, you know how Meyer gave Twilight a twist in Life and Death by flipping characters around? We mix and match with that. We go with Beau/Edward or Bella/Edythe instead of Bella/Edward or Beau/Edythe. Or: Beau/Jacob or Bella/Julie, but no love triangles. Here’s what I’ve been thinking for the story, it’s a far cry of what we were shown in the series, so bear with me! I really love the setting of Twilight and wanna run with that. This’ll be more intensive than the original, so hopefully you’re open to that too. I want Beau/Bella and Edward/Edythe to have more of a personality.

All the characters are older, I’m thinking the main characters are mid-20’s or so instead of late teens. For ease I’ll use Beau and Edward as an example but Bella/Edythe can work in place. Beau is an aspiring journalist and returns to Forks to either A) follow a string of mysterious and gruesome murders - hoping both that this will be the big break he’s has been waiting for, and that the town will be more receptive to a press figure if said figure is the kid of long since retired police chief, or B) take care of Charlie, who suffered an injury that caused him to retire from his job and Beau’s nosiness gets him involved with the Forks newspaper joint. Maybe both. Shacks up with Charlie, works on the story, follows some creepy and unnerving leads. Works with the Forks newspaper (possibly with Angela and Eric?), all of the murders are caused by James/Victoria/Laurent.*

Carlisle and Esme are a married couple. Edward is their nephew they took in. Rosalie, Emmett, and Alice are all townspeople but aren’t under the cover story of being a Cullen. We follow some loose storybeats from the OG story, with Beau being immune to Edward’s mind reading powers AND Alice’s future sight (it never made sense to me why Alice could see Bella’s future when Bella had a shield thing going on?), finds Beau’s blood particularly enticing, etc. The Cullens are definitely mysterious and we dig into vampires being like, actually kinda freaky. Beau feels like something’s going on with them but isn’t sure what. Maybe the Cullens ARE involved in some of the stuff and we twist a little bit away from the vampire-vegetarian stuff? Or just keep it the same and they’re similarly involved because the hunting activity has made stuff difficult for them.

Beau crosses a lotta paths with Edward given the nature of his job and Edward/the Cullens all end up somehow or another coming up as he digs into the story. Branches out into either Beau/Jacob, with the Cullens ACTUALLY being involved in some of the murders/disappearances and he and Jake team up to get to the bottom of things. Maybe become a vampire-hunting duo. OR Beau/Edward, where the Cullens are closely involved in the disappearances but aren’t actual killers and he and the coven work together to try and get these wayward vamps out of town. Kill James, Victoria becomes the next villain for a later conflict.

*Laurent becomes a good guy/ally! Doesn’t try to kill Beau/Bella, he sticks to being a cool and interesting dude. Chills with the Cullens sometimes. I feel like he’d be fun lol.

I was thinking there’d be some werewolfism eventually, like maybe Jessica is an actual werewolf (maybe Jake/Jules gets bit too?) and there’s some whole other stuff, but that’s all shelved for a continues story like how Twilight moves into New Moon and the other stuff! Basically a fun rewrite of Twilight where we get into supernatural mysteries and all. :D We can write a whole new storyline.

OR since it’s so heavily divorced from the main series, we just use OCs. Lol.

Anyway, I write in third person in either present or past tense. Don��t have a measurement for my length, I can go from like…four paragraphs to novella. I don’t like writing less than three though. Partners have to be 18+! I won’t write basic immoral stuff (non/dubcon, pedo, incest), general weird fetishes (feet, toilet, etc), mpreg, A/B/O, stuff like that.

I think that about covers everything. Let me know if you’d like to get into this entire Twilight revamp! Pun intended.

#multiple paragraph #long term #email #submission

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allofusandco · 7 years

Text

How they hangin’?

with @amadnessofmuses

Amara brought back Benny instead of Mary.

Benny:

"How they hangin', chief?"

–––––

Dean:

Dean looked up more than a little shocked to see the vampire in front of him. It had been a while, not to mention how the hell he was even back.

“Hey man,” he offered, a grin curling at the edges of his lips as he stepped closer to the vampire, arms coming up to pull him into a hug.

“How’d your ass get outta Purgatory this time?”

–––––

Benny:

Dean seemed bigger than Benny remembered; no less strong, though. Felt kinda good to be close again, if just for now. He grinned over Dean's shoulder before he pulled away gently. Smelled too good, and Benny needed to eat. "No clue, hoss. Fighting a pair of those black-blooded things that like your angel so well, rolled down a hill and hit my grave like a cannon ball. Tryin' not to wonder too much, truth be told."

–––––

Dean:

Dean stepped back, arms crossing over his chest as he listened to the vampire talk. It wasn’t shocking, not really, not as many times as he had seen people come back from the dead. Hell him and Sam seemed to have a multi pass back from the dead, stood to reason Benny could get himself a free ticket.

“You still a…” he paused hands coming up to make a gesture of two fangs flipping from his mouth. It was only right that he asked, better to know for sure than to assumed and get his ass eaten. He wasn’t too keen on dying at the hands of a vampire when he had only just gone against the darkness a few months back and then the men of letters to get Sam back.

“Vampirate?” He added with a grin.

–––––

Benny:

Benny snickered to himself, shaking his head. “Not so much a pirate. Not sure I could really go back to that life. Missin’ the water, though.” There wasn’t enough water in Purgatory. Just enough to make you crave it. “But as to the rest…”

He gave Dean a grimace, and let his teeth descend, like a damn shark.

“Yeah, still intact.” And hungry. It was easier in Purgatory, in a way. Mighta wanted blood but he didn’t crave it, didn’t need it the same way.

He looked around. No clue where they were. “Say, uh… you know where we are? Could use a drink.” Every kind of drink. Mostly, red and warm, and not from a person, because he sure as shit didn’t want to start that again. It’d been hard enough to wean himself off it for Andrea’s sake.

–––––

Dean:

Dean nodded, watching the teeth descend from the man’s mouth his own gums aching, he knew that feeling, the burning that came first, then the sting of pain as they pushed through your gums, then relief, he’d felt briefly once back when Sammy had been soulless and let him get turned.

“Yeah, currently we’re about 100 miles in the wrong direction from home and after what I just went through I could use a waterin’ hole,” he offered with a grin as he reached out to drop his hand to the vamps shoulder.

“We gotta get us a car though cause I didn’t think I would need mine when I came here,” he added.

He could still feel the shock of the last hour rattling around in his soul, he’d come here with nothing but the clothes on his back and around a million souls in his body, he’d come here to die and somehow he’d saved the world, fixed the dying sun got God and his terrifying sister back together and now it was evening and here was Benny.

Sam would be livid but Benny was his biggest regret, he’d made a promise to help him and he’d let him down, next to not being able to save Adam and dragging Sammy back into this life he was his biggest regret. He was almost shocked that Amara had picked up on that.

Turning towards the parking lot of the small park he started them out towards almost few cars near the back. “We need to get you something to eat first?” He asked not sure he was ready to lob the man’s head off before he’d even gotten a chance to drink with him. Plus he didn’t have any weapons on him.

–––––

Benny:

The first time anyone had touched him without violence on their mind in a damn long time. Benny grinned, feeling his eyes crinkle with a smile he hadn’t worn since he’d bid farewell to Sam and his hirsute friend by the portal some years back.

There was a whole lot of this that didn’t make sense, though. Far as he knew Dean didn’t have a home, unless he was referring to Sam. And there didn’t seem to be an immediate explanation for why the hell he was out here almost in the middle of nowhere by himself, either, or what that expression might mean. Looked like he’d seen a ghost, and though Benny himself probably fit the bill right there, looked like that expression predated his sudden reappearance by a good minute or two, at least.

“Watering hole sounds good,” he agreed, with a nod. More alert to danger than he needed to be but that was the way of things, after a few years waging a one-man war; he doubted he’d trust the peace out here too well for a while yet. “Seems we got some catching up to do.”

Older cars were easier to hotwire, of course. No electronics to blow up, none of that fancy GPS crud sending out smoke signals to security companies. Benny found a likely candidate and pointed it out to Dean.

“Admit I’m a mite curious, chief. Don’t think I ever heard you call a place home, before.” He scanned the horizon, rapidly darkening. Dusk, then. For a moment he’d thought it might be dawn. Everything seemed quiet. Unusually quiet, truth be told, but then he could just be drawing on his own paranoia. Not like he knew what was usual.

“Where are we? Don’t get how I got here, much less why I’d find myself in spittin’ distance of you. Where’d you bury me? Better question, Dean, why didn’t you burn me?” Had to have been buried or he couldn’t be back.

–––––

Dean:

Dean looked around, watching for families and stuff in the small parking lot behind the garden they had been in. “Honestly man, that’s ah, there’s a lotta questions I can’t answer there,” he said, looking around as he pulled on the door handle, finding it locked before deciding to just break the window. The sooner they got out of there the better.

“Home,” he said as he got in the car after clearing the glass from the seat, “would be the bunker, this men of letters hunter place Sammy and I found a while back,” he explained as he pulled out the wires from under the steering wheel so he could hot wire the thing to life.

“It’s got a few rooms, torture dungeon, kitchen, bathroom with endless and I am talking endless hot water with the most magnificent water pressure you have ever felt,” he said looking over to flash Benny a grin as the car reared to life.

It took him 30 seconds tops to get it out of the parking lot, the only hint that it was ever been there a small pile of glass left in its wake. He didn’t think anyone would be looking for it, not for a few days at least, not with the whole end of days thing that was just happening. Everyone should be curled up at home with their families, at least he wished he’d been.

“As far as you being here,” he paused, relaxing slightly as he drove taking a back roads he knew well. “I don’t honestly know, the evil we were fighting seemed to get into her head that you would be a good idea to bring back,” he offered with a small shrug as he dug around in his pocket for his phone so he could call Sammy, disappointed when it went to voicemail.

“And I gotta tell you man, I don’t know if the state of your body woulda made any difference with this one. Actually curiously, you still all,” he gestured to his own mouth, fingers flipping down to make mock fangs as he grinned. He wouldn’t have been surprised either way, leaving him a vampire would have appealed to Amara’s since of humor, then again so would making him human.

He felt good, real good, could use a drink but the adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, Benny was riding shot gun, they were heading home and the world was once again safe. Actually he felt better than he had in long while.

–––––

Benny:

Benny eased himself into the passenger seat as soon as Dean had the door open. Felt good to just be near him, truth be told, after knowing he’d never see the man again. Wasn’t too sure how he felt about being back here, though, topside. Definitely wasn’t sure how he felt about someone choosing him to bring back.

“Someone evil decided it’d be a good idea to drag my bones topside again and you ain’t got a worry in the world? Getting’ soft on me, Dean-o?” No, he didn’t look soft. If anything he looked even harder than he had. And tired beyond the measuring of it, despite the smile gracing his lips, and the crinkles around his green eyes. “Gimme a heads-up before we set foot in your torture dungeon.” Which, well. Every home should have one, still on the rare side, though.

Benny chuckled. “Don’t think that’s something that’s just gonna go away, Dean,” he said. Though it was strange that he wasn’t starving hungry the moment he’d come back from purgatory. Definitely a pickle. Benny watched out the window. No one around. Streets were quiet. He frowned. “Not sure I even wanna know what I just stepped into, Dean, but everything’s a little quieter than I remember.”

He stretched his jaw, and froze.

No familiar ache, not in his gums or in the hinge of his jaw, no dry throat. He slipped a finger into his mouth, rubbing at his gums. Nothing.

“Blow me down,” he said, quietly. But no, it wasn’t possible. He couldn’t be human. And if something evil brought him back human, what the hell did that say about him.

“Or maybe not,” he said, trying to focus his attention outwards. He could hear the hum of the car (more than a hum; thing needed some serious work). He could hear the tires on the blacktop. But out there, he could barely hear a thing, even if he pushed. And in the dying light, he could barely see a thing that wasn’t lit up by the car headlights, or a street lamp. Five years ago he could have found Dean by smell alone, and now there was just the hint of aftershave, and the leather of his jacket.

“Dean, I think I’m human,” he said, suddenly recognizing the almost forgotten pain in his stomach that meant he was hungry, actually hungry, for food, and not for blood. “What the hell would go on and bring me back human?” He pressed his hand to his stomach and open the glove compartment.

A switchblade fell into his hand. Good sort of thing to keep. Nothing to eat, though.

–––––

Dean:

“What?” Dean said looking over at Benny, eyebrows knitted at he tried to take in what he was saying. He was human. That was a twist he hadn’t seen coming. Actually he wasn’t even all that shocked. He should have been but he wasn’t. it seemed like something Amara would do. Bring a vampire back from purgatory and drop him in a human vessel. It would make things easier yet at the same time he was sure it was going to make them a whole lot harder. When had Benny last been human.

Slowing down at a stop Dean reached up hands running down his face as he took in a deep breath. This was so weird and so much stuff he didn’t think that he would be dealing with. Once again he was supposed to be dead, he was supposed to be done with all this and yet here he was living and worrying about something else. “I want to say I am surprised but I know the big bad that brought you back and she was a little weird so honestly dude, I am not as shocked as I should be,” he admitted.

About a quarter of a mile down the road he pulled into the parking lot of a little bar. It looked old, a little dirty, had some weird giant moose in the front lawn, it didn’t speak much for what the inside of the place would look like but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed a couple shots of whiskey, need to call Sam and he needed some bar fries.

“I promise you man once we get in here and I get something liquid and ready to kill my liver I will give you the full story. Bunker, bad evil, you being back, whole nine,” he explained as he turned off the car and got out.

“Gotta be honest though, I’m glad to see you man,” he added clapping the man on the back as they made their way inside the small bar. The name fit it, Joe’s Older than Dirt, It looked it.

–––––

Benny:

Benny didn’t know who he was, if he wasn’t a vampire. The hell was he supposed to do – get a job? Well. Yeah. He’d done that as a vampire, too, but it wasn’t for the dough. He tried to ignoring the way his heart hammered away in his chest – it wasn’t easy.

“Yeah, can’t wait to hear all about it, chief. Sounds like a hell of a funny lady. I’m sure chuckling over here.” If silently spiraling counted as chuckling. “Hell of a funny lady.”

As he walked from the car to the steps up the bar, he felt it again, that everything was too quiet. But it wasn’t; he could sense it, now. He was just deaf: after having his senses dialed up so high for so long he felt like he wasn’t getting enough information. His vision, his hearing, even his nose (but hell, given the disproportionate number of unpleasant smells in the world, that might have been a blessing).

He was so focused on that, he might have missed Dean clapping him on the back.

Yeah, it was nice to see Dean, too, and maybe, without the fangs, Benny could stick around a while, this time. Could maybe even help. He’d sure as shit feel a hell of a lot better about the new situation if he was real heavily armed. “Feeling’s mutual.” Dean had been as much like a brother as Benny had ever known, and his only friend in more years than he cared to admit.

“Goddamn, my liver,” he grumbled, deflecting, as he followed Dean inside. “I hope at least your little friend got me a fresh one. I doubt the other one was going to last too long even before I went and got myself turned.”

He glanced at the bar – no, he didn’t want to sit up there, too open. Dean had too much to talk about that they didn’t generally let people in on. There were a couple of booths at either end.

“Bourbon, make ’em good ones,” he said, to the bartender, who looked just about as old as the bar he was serving, and might well have been Jo himself. “Unless you wanna save us a trip or two, and hand over a bottle.”

–––––

Dean:

Benny didn’t look like he wasn’t doing good and Dean knew the look on the man’s face well. He’d seen it on Sam, he’d seen it on other hunters, hell he’d even seen that same look in the mirror more times than he could count. He would even put money on it being the same look on his face right now. It was the face of a person who had just been though something, something they’d never thought they were coming back from only to be tossed back into the fray they never thought they’d see again. Hell had to be pretty damn confusing for the man, he knew it would be for him. He knew when he dug his way from his grave and out into the sweltering heat of the day that he’d had the same look.

Clapping the man on the back at the bar, he pulled out his wallet, why he hadn’t it he wasn’t sure, stroke of luck really, everything else he’d thought to leave behind with Sam. He guessed maybe the wallet was just habit. He wished he kept a gun and a call phone too. Maybe next time he would. Dead man’s survival kit. He was starting to need that more and more these days.

Pulling out a few bills he left them for the man who seemed more keen on tossing them a bottle when there was green involved than he had when it had been a hopeful request. He couldn’t blame him. Picking up and bottle and the two glasses he led them to a back portion of the bar. It was the weirdest little bar he had been in that was for sure. It looked like it might have been a house at one time and the walls were covered in dead animals of every kind. Moose, dear, elk, owls, and hell there was even a bear skin rug tacked to the ceiling just over the couch he was about to park his happy ass on.

“Might have to put this bar on the top ten weirdest I have run into,” he offered. Glasses clinking on the wooden table as he sat them down, filling them each with some whiskey. He was already drinking half of his own down with a hiss as he passed Benny’s over.

“I don’t even know where to start with this man,” he offered as he leaned back on the couch, hand scrubbing down his face. Did he started with why he took the Mark, did he start with the bunker, did he start with how this was all just one long string of bad luck and bad decisions?

Finishing off his glass he filled it up a second time, scooting the whiskey bottle Benny’s way so he could fill his up again when he was done.

“You ever hear of the Mark of Cain?” He asked as he looked over at the man.

–––––

Benny:

“Well, Dean, you ain’t spent enough time in the Bayou,” Benny said. His heart was beating so fast, so heavy, so steady, that it was hard to focus on much else. And he had no right memory of what it’d been like before, so it was impossible to guess if it was normal or not. “Ain’t seen nothing until you seen a ten-foot alligator mounted on the ceiling like a damn canoe.” He took the glass and threw it back, hard and fast, no mind for the fact it’d been five years since he’d tasted a drop and almost sixty, now, since he’d last had to suffer a human tolerance for the stuff. He needed something to calm the itch, and the low-grade panic, and this would have to do.

Dean looked like shit, but then, he often did. Beat up and chewed up and spat out again and again, he had that bone-deep tiredness about him. In a whole other way he looked so damn good it was hard to look at him. He’d beaten things back. Benny gave a lopsided grin.

If he was gonna be stuck human for a time, what better guide could he have asked for?

“I was raised Baptist, Dean, they’re kinda fanatical about th’Old Testament. Cain was the first murderer, killed his brother. God marked him… can’t remember too much. He was thrown out of home, cursed to walk the earth… think the brother’s blood poisoned his land, too. Damn, I remember more’n I thought.” He poured himself another drink, this time not bothering to guess at what a regular pour was. “I was never much of a believer, but until mama passed, I went to church regular enough. Y’wanna hear something funny? The things in purgatory – there they are, halfway to hell, and most of if them still don’t believe in Him.”

Of course, now he let himself think about it, he was probably going to find out it was a soul-eating parasite from biblical times and Dean had just spent a year fighting the damn thing on the moon.

“Alright, go on, then. Tell me the real version.”

–––––

Dean:

Dean couldn’t help a small grin as Benny walked through what he knew about Cain and Able, he was spot on with most of it. Beside for the mark part, not that he even thought most people even knew about that. It seemed to be one of those things that was omitted from the Bible, might not have been a problem for him if he had read it.

“You know what Man I don’t even know if that was where I needed to start either but you’ve got it on the Cain and Able part, that much I know to be true.

Reaching up Dean scrubbed his hand down his face. “Long story short, Metatron the scribe of God, got a big head, decided to close up Heaven and kicked all the angels to Earth. I needed a way to kill him and a demon that Sam and I accidentally stitched back together that was gonna take over Hell so I took this Mark of Cain. As it turned out, it was the thing that made the Devil evil cause it was God’s evil sister Amara and the mark was just a way to keep her locked up. Sammy and Cas removed the Mark from my arm in turn letting her out and free on the world,”

“ Yesterday we got together with Lucifer who is back out of his cage, God who decided to make a surprise appearance, the King of Hell and some reaper that I think is stepping in as Death since I may have accidentally killed him too in order to fill me up with a crap ton of souls and ship me off as a bomb to kill Amara. Turns out all she wanted was hang out time with her brother and since by some miracle of events she thinks I brokered that she cleared the souls from my body, turned into some weird smoke along with God and poofed from Earth and… left me you as my booty prize,“ he offered putting out the whole long story in one go.

He knew there would be questions, hell how could there not be, he would have been ripe with them. Reaching out he grabbed the bottle of whiskey and filled his glass up for another go.

–––––

Benny:

Benny listened, or tried to; mostly just stared, and plucked out the parts that he could make a lick of sense out of. Yeah, he mostly just stared, and wondered how the hell Dean was even still alive, kind of fucked up life he led; and he wondered how he, himself, was supposed to walk around without a lick of power, knowing how dangerous it was.

Maybe he needed to get himself turned. Maybe as a vampire he was an abomination, a liability, a monster, whatever the hell else Dean saw when he looked at him; but at least he could help.

He opened his mouth to respond, and thought better of it, throwing back his drink instead, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and putting the glass on the table with a firm thud. In a moment, he thought better of it and reached for the bottle again.

“So,” he said, when he’d poured a good measure. “First up – anyone else told me any ol’ bit of that story I’d say they were crazier than a shithouse rat. But you ain’t anyone else,” he admitted, shaking his head. “So I gotta do the thing where I just nod and act like that’s just any ol’ Thursday for you. Course, the craziest bit is where I’m any damn kinda prize.” He shook his head. “But I’m glad you made it through – again – and when all of this settles in my head a little I might ask you a thing or two. Like for example how the hell you got yourself mixed up with god and the devil. But it can wait.” He stared at a deep scar on the table. “God’s got a sister? Catholics’ll love that.”

He held the glass between his hands, warming the liquor.

“On the one hand I think I maybe oughtta see what I can do about hitchin’ a ride home,” he said. “But maybe I’ll wait a little while, I could follow you for a bit. Make sure you don’t have any more deities on your ass, maybe see what I can do about distracting you from any life-threatening dumbassery. Say, you manage to get your friend Lucifer back into his cage where he belongs?”

No harm in hope.

–––––

Dean:

Dean reached up, hands scrubbing down his face after the last sip of whiskey was drained from his glass. He was tired and pretty sure his insides were still churning from the souls. He felt like he could sleep for a couple of weeks and then use an hour long shower and a vacation. Hell retirement was suddenly looking like a viable option at this point as well. Digging the heel of his hand into his eyes he let out a long sigh before looking over at Benny again.

He didn’t mind Benny’s offer to tag along with him for a while, hell he prolly should invite him back to the Bunker for a while they got the man settled. It was only fair right? He had made a promise to the vampire when they had been in Purgatory. He had promised to make his life easy, help him out when the going got tough and he had gone back on that. Hell he hadn’t just gone back on that he had ditched the dude for Sammy and moved on from there. In the end it had been his own fault that Benny had gone back to Purgatory. He had failed him and let him down. Dean made a mental note, this was his second chance to make things right with him and he was gonna stick to it this time.

After all Sammy could hardly get pissed this time, the man was human and Sammy wasn’t one for turning away humans now was he.

“I say we head home, set you up a place to stay in the bunker, we got a few extra rooms, see where that leads us. No rush in finding you some other place when I got a perfectly good home for a change,” he offered, putting the deal on the table, right between the bottle of whiskey and his glass. He wouldn’t force it, hell he couldn’t blame the man if he didn’t trust him this time. He didn’t know if he would have either. This time was different however, even if in his own mind. This time he would be here for Benny, whenever and wherever. It was the promise he was making to himself.

–––––

Benny:

Benny hoped the relief didn’t show on his face; getting used to being human wasn’t going to be easy, and he had a feeling it would be easier with a friendly face on hand. And weapons. He was going to have to learn to fight like a human again before he found his way in the world. He gave a slow nod, eyes on Dean’s face. He’d missed the man more than he’d ever let himself acknowledge. The green eyes, and the perpetual tiredness, boyish grin, all of it.

“Think that’s enough of a plan to be goin’ on,” he said, and raised the whiskey to his lips again. “Thanks, Dean.” Home sounded good; it had been a long damn time.

––

Benny didn’t plan to fall asleep in the front seat of Dean’s car, but he dozed. Something else he hadn’t done in a long time. In Purgatory, you always slept with one eye open and a weapon in your hand, or you risked not waking up at all, and Benny’s survival instincts had stayed sharp. It was briefly disorienting, to feel the relatively soft seat beneath him, the car moving over the blacktop.

He thought he’d been dreaming of the sea.

He shook himself the rest of the way awake, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Sorry, hoss. Haven’t really slept in years. I think bein’ human’s gonna take some getting used to.” He could feel the hangover threatening the edges of his vision. He ducked his head to look out the window. Looked like a power plant, or some other utility, looming in the distance.

“So, this bunker of yours… I pictured a below-ground bolt hole without whole lot of room to stretch. I get the feelin’ now I might have been wrong.”

He glanced at Dean, looking pretty pleased with himself. The place was enormous, lit up somewhat spooky like by the sunset just creeping up over the horizon.

“Cas around?” he asked, innocently. He didn’t really feel like going another round with the angel, especially not now that he was human. Didn’t feel up to battling for attention, either, even if he’d never admit that he had been. “Sam expectin’ us? He know I’m human?”

–––––

Dean:

Dean looked at the bunker from the window. “I don’t know man,” he answered finally after letting Benny’s questions hang in the air between them for a few minutes or so.

“I don’t know what they went to do after I went off to die. Sam’s got my phone and effects I don’t know if he would come back here or not, I don’t see baby so I am gonna guess he’s not coming back here or he will and just hasn’t made it yet. As for Cas, who’d have thought you’d miss him so much,” he finished, flashing Benny a smirk as he got out of the car.

He was willing to bet the bunker was closed and was never more thankful for the spell Sammy had found and activated so all one of the two of them had to do was step over the threshold and it would open for them without the key. It wasn’t like the key was easy to carry around either and they had only found one. This was if Sammy had been there.

Dean made his way to the door, opening it and letting Benny in before stepping in behind him, the metal door swing shut with a whine and a thunk that echoed through the bunker. He had been wrong about the warding, all of it was still off. Amara had ruined that for them. It was something he would need to put back up, it also meant Sammy hadn’t been home yet.

“Welcome to the bunker,” he said grinning as he walked past Benny and down the steps, letting the human take everything in. “Sorry about the mess, he added, “End of the world planning gets messy,” he added looking up at Benny as he started trying to collect some of the bottles and junk they had all left around.

–––––

Benny:

“Didn’t miss him,” Benny grumbled. “AIn’t lookin’ to get myself smote, first night back on earth, that’s all.” Castiel had abandoned Dean in Purgatory, and no explanation would ever make Benny see it different. He didn’t appreciate Dean right. Benny decided to leave off a mini-tirade. They were probably still close. No need to piss anyone off.

The mess of the bunker was reassuring. Even with his senses human, and dulled, it smelled right; beer and whiskey, fast food that never quite went off, and more than anything else, the musty scent of magic and lore. Books and weapons and a rime of salt, cold consecrated iron. He felt himself relax, feeling better in here, and told himself that was the last of it. He needed to get himself in the game. He was no use to Dean feeling like he might get carried off by winged monkeys any minute. He had never been a weak man, and he wasn’t going to start now, just because he’d lost an enhancement or two along the way. He had work to do. On top of whatever Dean needed, he had to figure out why the hell he’d been brought back at all, let alone human.

“Nice place you got here, hoss,” he said, examining the label on a bottle of whiskey. He recognized it. Nothing special. There was half a bottle left, so Benny sniffed at a couple of clean-looking mugs and poured them each a good dram. He let his eyes wander over the papers and the notes. He didn’t understand a lot of it, at a glance, but there was a desperation he could have read in a whole other language.

“You went off thinkin’ you were a dead man,” he said, shaking his head. “If I could give you anything… I wish there was a world where you didn’t have to do that. You must be tired. Got a couch I can sack out on?”

–––––

Dean:

“I can do you better than a couch man.”

He was glad he could this time too. He could offer Benny a whole damn room if he wanted it. It wasn’t like the Bunker was on a shortage of them. Him and Sammy only occupied two of the 12 there were.

“This place used to be home to the Men of Letter’s, they were a group of fancy hunters that spent their time here researching everything magical. They got a couple of rooms in this place, 12 that we have found, who knows how many more on the floors we have yet to check out. We got a torture dungeon, a garage, a kitchen and showers with the best water pressure your ever gonna feel.”

It wasn’t five stars but for people like him and Benny it was damn close. Hell after he had gotten out of purgatory he had been happy for a motel mattress and he hadn’t been there half as long as Benny had. He was willing to bet once the dude was down on one he would be down for hours.

Reaching out he picked up the mug, tipping back the whiskey.

“Sam’s gonna be shocked to find out I’m not. Him and Cas both.”

He offered the last name with a smirk. He was sure Benny still held the events of Purgatory against the angel, hell why wouldn’t he. He and Benny had become friends; it was understandable that he had been pissed at Cas for ditching him. The thing was, he didn’t hold against Cas, not any more. Too much had happened between them.

“Come on.”

He finished off the whiskey and set the cup down with the others before making his way out of the war room, through the library and into the hall way that let to some of the rooms.

“The one around the corner is Sam’s, this one’s mine and if you want man, this is one is all yours.”

–––––

Benny:

Benny let out a low whistle. “Damn, hoss, I didn’t even think about a shower.” Simple luxury that Purgatory would never see. The thought of standing under that driving pressure was damn fine. Showers, and food, whiskey, and… an actual bed, a mattress. He shook his head, and grinned.

“Guess there’s a few advantages.” And pretty soon he’d find a way to consider the advantages of being human, as well. If he couldn’t… well, there was bound to be someone who would turn him back.

“Well,” he said. “I might hit the hay, then. Or take a shower and hit the hay. Rather not sleep in all this… Purgatory grime.” He pressed a hand to Dean’s shoulder, and patted his cheek. Fiercely fond. Hard to negotiate. He’d find his way. “You’re alive, Dean. Everything after this is a bonus, right?”

Green eyes and freckles. Benny took a moment to memorize them all again.

“G’night. Sleep tight.”

––

Benny spent at least half an hour under the streaming water, and Dean was right. It was hot, and powerful, massaging muscles that were sore in a way they hadn’t been since 1955. He lathered up and rinsed off and shampooed his hair until he couldn’t smell blood, or fire, or sulphur, until every scent he associated with Purgatory was gone. When he closed his eyes, he forced himself to think of New Orleans, or Elizabeth, anything but the rocks and dead trees that had been his home. By the time he dragged his sorry ass to bed he felt really and truly clean.

And ready.

He crawled naked under the blanket, and linked his hands beneath his head, staring at the ceiling. There were advantages to being human, and this was for certain one of them; he was sleeping only doors away from Dean, which couldn’t have happened before. He understood, he did. They’d been blood brothers, but that wasn’t the same as being friends. Outside of Purgatory they hadn’t made a whole lot of sense. Now, he could help. Hunt monsters. He felt weak. Didn’t mean he was weak, just different from before. He was still the man who drug sheet metal across the factory floor to build the boats that won the shores in World War II, and lumber before that. He didn’t have the sharp sense of a vampire, but that didn’t mean he was deaf. And he had a friend. Maybe more’n one, if Sam and Castiel could see past their crap.

If they could, he could.

Some time later, without knowing his eyes had fallen shut, Benny dropped off to sleep and untroubled dreams.

~complete~

#v: the wish #p: how they hangin'?#amadnessofmuses #amadnessofmuses: dean #benny rp #all of us; & queue

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