#all am saying is those legs coulda used some work

[cardinal-baenitez]

Okay enough time has passed I think John Locke forgiving Ben just like that was such bullshit he should’ve fucked him senseless as revenge or something

[angelamajiki]

Damn that Bully Dabi and Hawks fic was an amazing read! I love it when you write them full on bastard mode!

Pro Hero Bakugou sexually harassing his weak quirkless secretary who does her very best at her job. She's good at it but Bakugou always looks mad (read: sexually frustrated). High on success after a good rescue, he wants to celebrate....

OR

Cop Bakugou sees a pretty little thing outside a club. She looks sus so he decides she needs a pat down. Maybe he'll plant something to blackmail her into doing certain favors. Very bully, very bastard Bakugou.

PARINGS: Pro Hero! Bakugou x Secretary! Quirkless! AFAB! Reader

CW: yandere, dubcon/noncon, dirty talk, choking, cunnilingus, overstimulation, scumbage bakugou, use of the word rape, quirkless reader, size difference, age gap, death threats, sexual harrassment, bullying, mindbreak, masturbation, office sex

AN: I’ll probably write the cop Bakugo at some point too! For now, mind the tags and enjoy :)

They say to never meet your idols and in retrospect, you wished you would have listened.

Try as you might, it seemed like Mr. Dynamight was never satisfied with your work. Admittedly, you joined his agency as his office secretary based on having a crush on the pro, but you assumed his brash nature would calm down in an office setting. You did everything he asked, obediently followed his every word, which was all met with harsh glares and what you thought were dissatisfied grunts.

Surely you thought it wouldn't be about your being quirkless, but rumors were high strung in the office about the blonde’s feeling towards those without quirks. It would explain the harsh glares and judgment he passed on you despite your work effort.

The man even went as far as to ask for your personal phone number, only to leave scathing voicemails whenever you couldn't show up to work or miss out on work gatherings he put together. You couldn't help but flush at the thought of him missing your presence. Maybe you were just bad at reading his signals? Or maybe he was just hell-bent on bullying you more than the rest of the staff.

The job paid very well, so you couldn't exactly up and leave based on his behavior. However, you did notice how...handsy Mr. Dynamight has become with you. It was subtle at first, brushing shoulders in the hallways, letting his fingers ghost against yours when he handed you paperwork.

It soon escalated to always having a hand on your shoulder, holding your hips when he had to brush behind you, towering over you from behind your chair when you showed him something. You couldn't say that you weren't flattered, but his rough demeanor remained.

It started becoming uncomfortable when he made passes at you, making sure you were cornered and alone when he did.

“C’mon, am I really that fuckin’ intolerable that you can't get lunch with me, pipsqueak?”

You assumed that he was just messing with you, so you always turned him down with a flushed face and ran back to your desk, leaving him blue balled and more desperate by the day. There's no way a pro hero like him would actually be interested in someone quirkless and weak like yourself.

But that's the reason why he liked you anyway. So small, so weak, so obedient, so perfect for him to fuck up. God, if he didn't want just to rip your tiny pencil skirt to threads and spear you on his cock like no tomorrow. A pretty thing like yourself shouldn't be working. No, no, no. You should be at home, in his home in his bed with his ring on your finger. You belong to him, don't you see that?

Katsuki only ever gives you the time of day, not those other stupid bitches who crawl up his ass every morning trying to get a crumb of attention. And what do you do with his precious time? Waste it. Always whining about how you really shouldn't, that he shouldn't be seen with someone like you. As if he gives a fuck about what the media has to say.

He even checks up on you when you're not at work! Isn't he such a gentleman? Sure, he's a bit vulgar, but he's trying to show he cares. But if you want to act like a stuck-up bitch, then he’ll gladly treat you like one.

After a particularly tough fight with a villain, the blonde wanted nothing more than to use and abuse you to get some steam off his chest. It was late, but he prayed to whatever gods were out there that you were still in the office. He left you a voicemail for good measure, hoping that you would do what you always did best and stayed obedient for him.

It was locked up for the night, but he could see your office light on from the street. Perfect. Such a good girl for him. Little did he know that you stayed late quiet often.

You hadn't even seen his previous call come through; you were too busy listening to an old one with plenty of derogatory terms being spat your way. A hand shoved in your skirt, you couldn't help but finger yourself the sound of his voice calling you moronic for skipping out of work. Mr. Dynamight was your childhood crush after all, you had jerked off to plenty of interviews of him in the past. Sure, it was creepy but no one had to know. The older man was so big, so strong and handsome. You couldn't help but feel fuzzy from the voicemail, even if it was degrading you, it was for you alone.

Speak of the devil and he will appear.

“Well, shit. Whadda we have here, pipsqueak?”

A rough chuckle came from behind you as he pulled your desk chair out and swiveled towards him.

“Caught ya red-handed, huh? Who knew you were such a little slut for me.”

Taking the phone from your hand, he hung it up on the receiver and took your hand out of your panties. He snatched your fingers greedily in his mouth and sucked your wetness off of him.

“You know what, I’m feeling a bit hungry. And you taste like something in the vein of what I’m tryin’ to have for dinner.”

Katsuki devoured you in a hungry kiss, lifting you out of the chair and onto your desk. He tossed aside the papers messily and spread your legs to see your slick moistening your sheer tights and panties.

“Bend over and spread that fuckin’ pretty pussy for me, pipsqueak.”

You shook your head, already feeling humiliated enough by being caught with your pants down, literally.

“That wasn't a question, that was a command, you bratty bitch. What happened to your manners?”

God did his words stir something deep inside you. Waiting was no longer a priority; catching you like this was proof enough in his mind that you were just playing hard to get.

“You should consider yourself lucky that I want you to sit on my face, you know that? I have bitches trying to get on my dick every day, but it only gets hard for you, pipsqueak.”

“I-I thought you didn't like quirkless people!”

“It's all the more reason I want to be balls deep in your cunt right now. So weak and pathetic, it's fucking cute.”

You could feel yourself tighten around nothing just at his words. He was right, you were just a pathetic plaything for him. Not hesitating any longer, he ripped off your skirt and threw it behind the both of you. Your tights also got ripped to shreds, leaving you in your blouse and panties.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous.” He muttered, mostly to himself as he took your panties off and pocketed them. For later, he thought.

Katsuki didn't hesitate to spit on your already wet cunt before diving into his meal. Each stroke of his tongue sent fire straight to your core, each suckle of his lips drew a whimper from your mouth. Hips bucked into his mouth before he held them down, using just one hand to cover your torso. So small and petite for him, how cute would you be up against his massive form.

“M-Mr. Dynamight!”

“Heh, so fuckin’ cute. Call me Katsuki, sweet thing. Or daddy, if you're nasty like that.”

Your hips were held taught against his face, not allowing you to squirm or inch away from his searing tongue fucking your hole. He continued to ravage you with his mouth, pulling away only a few times to give your pussy a nice spank. Groaning into your cunt, he stroked himself at the same time.

Humiliation had dissolved into pleasure as he serviced you, tears springing in your eyes as he gripped his head tightly with your hands and thighs. Having already masturbated before getting caught, it didn't take long for him to make you see stars and roll your eyes into the back of your head.

“K-Katsuki, I’m cumming!” You shouted, squirting onto his tongue as your body shook around his head. Your fingers threaded deeply into his hair and tugged as he continued to work his tongue into your hole, riding out your orgasm.

He didn't stop, though.

“Too much, it's too much!”

“I’ll stop when I’m finished, little girl.”

You tried to push his head away, but he gripped your wrists from under your legs and had you pinned against his mouth, shaking and screaming from overstimulation. Once he brought you another good nut, he pulled away and gave your clit a kiss, chuckling when you jumped.

Standing up, he pushed his mask up to pull his back and took his rock-hard cock from his pants. He spat on your dripping hole once again before lining up his fat head with it.

Katsuki hissed as he sank himself into your cunt, holding your hips in place as you whined and squirmed under him, still overly sensitive. God, were you gripping him in all the right ways. Your legs around his waist, your hands on his forearms, and your cunt around his cock.

“Relax, pipsqueak, or I’ll end up breaking you.” He chuckled. “But you might like that, huh?”

Seeing your teary, fucked out face while teasing you? He nearly jizzed himself on the spot. But he had to hold out for you. A choked gasp was all you could respond with as he got right in your face, breath tickling your cheeks as he looked in your eyes.

“Such a dirty slut, getting off to the sound of my voice. It's better in person, isn't it?”

“D-Daddy!”

Was all you could whine as his thumb made his way to your clit, drawing slow, gently circles with his roughed-up finger.

“Oi, oi, oi, did I break ya already, pipsqueak? Y’know, you coulda just asked for my cock like a good girl if you were gonna get this drunk off it.”

His hips slowly drew back, almost pulling out all the way before slamming back in, earning a squeal from you.

“Or maybe you wanted me to take you by force? Show ya what the fuck happens to quirkless little girls who tease their fuckin’ man so much that he just has to come and take their little cunt to show ‘em who’s boss, eh?”

You couldn't help but tighten around him from his words, squirming under his hot breath as he started to grind his hips up into yours slowly.

“Good girl, letting daddy rape your cunt so willingly.”

Katsuki chuckled, sealing a hot kiss on your mouth while he gripped your throat. His hips began to piston in and out of your pussy, thick veins grinding against your spongy walls.

His brutal kisses swallowed your moans and tears while he squeezed your throat. His other thumb continued to swipe against your clit in fast motions, causing your to clamp down and flutter against his thick cock.

“Shoulda known you were a whore from the start, wearing those skirts that hugged ya in all the right places. Bending over and letting me touch you how I pleased, it's like you wanted this to happen.”

The pace of his thrust increased as he started to chase his orgasm, holding your throat and hips down to use you like the hole he knew you were. He growled and snarled into your mouth as he choked you, even more, watching the blood flood to your face.

“Yeah, baby, I've got your life in my hands now. If you won't be mine, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Then nobody can have you.”

“Y-Yours! I’m yours!” You managed to gasp out, gripping his forearm and digging your nails into it, hoping he’ll let you up for air

“Damn straight, now cum for me, you quirkless little bitch.”

The haziness from the lack of air and the pleasure pooling in your gut sent you over the edge a third time, making you cry out his name as you came. Katsuki was right behind you, eyes screwed shut and practically foaming at the mouth as he came deep inside you, finally letting you breathe once he finished himself off.

You sputtered and coughed, desperate to fill your lungs with air as he pushed some stray hairs out of your face.

“Ya did good, pipsqueak.”

He praised, giving your ass a spank before pulling out and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“You’re coming home with me, so don't worry about the mess.”

“By the way, you're fired.”

TAG LIST: @tomurasprincess @suzuki-violin-school @sightoru @alrunemara

[cdarkheartzero]

Diary of a Security Guard

For the always wonderful Rissy @rissynicole who I promised this to for being just...amazing.

Prequel found here-

https://cdarkheartzara.tumblr.com/post/622506786343288833

Data log entry 6555

Been watching Zim battle his PAK for a few (days) now. It has been SO mentally exhausting just to see, let alone experience. But that determination to get his PAK legs working. Imma be honest, it’s downright inspiring seeing him spaz, spark and struggle just to get back up n’ try it again once he catches his breath.

He even got Skoodge trying to activate his- few of the other smeets too, actually. I can’t tell whether he knows it or not (he’s pretty oblivious to the world around him so I doubt it), but he has a lot of fans among the youngins. They might find him annoying (cuz let’s be honest here, he is) but he has this unique…. charm(?) to him. Little bastard just doesn’t know when ta quit.

I can see the stress and strain of his struggles are starting to get to him though. He just hasn’t been himself lately. Physically Exhausted. Less destructive (again- lemme be honest- I AM ALL FOR but under normal circumstances). Hasn’t been doing much eating or sleeping. He’s just so fixated on this that it’s basically taken over his entire life. Can’t tell you how many times I have found him in the incubation room the past few shifts, tryin’ so damn hard to stand on his legs he basically passes out.

The smeets should be sleeping now. It’s pretty late and I see all the other guards settling into their seats relaxin’. Now’s the time to piss around, the break we all deserve. Alas, I can’t get that little shit outta my head. The pain on his face. The dedication and exhaustion in his eyes. It’s been burned into my organic brain ever since I had to stun him the first time. I don’t think I have ever been that scared before. I thought… I thought I could have killed him. That he wouldn’t be there the next morning. That this little ball of chaos would be erased from my life. And it was worse than anything I coulda imagined.

I wanna do something for him. I know I shouldn’t. ‘Specially after all the shit he puts me through. And I really shouldn’t play favoritisms but I dunno. There is just something about Zim.

Now, don’t get me wrong. He drives me crazy. He’s a little demon spawn. A selfish little piece of shit. More than once have I seen him sacrifice a playmate to make a quick escape or use poor Skoodge as a flesh shield. His bomb gifts haunt me very soul- I swear I hear them ticking in the walls relentlessly, taunting me. But he brings me such a calming ease. It’s so weird. Like… I wanna ring his neck sometimes but just having his little body in my arms brings me such warmth. His voice makes me want to slam my face against a wall but I honestly can’t fathom it not being there. I just want to be there for him. And do everything in my power to make him as happy as I can.

What did he do to me?

Ugh. I’m pulling my lekku out at my desk. Think, Zara. Think. There’s gotta be something I can do. I’m mindlessly fumbling through my clutter, still rackin’ my brain around what to do next. Suddenly, a sweet scent fills the air and I realize I opened my candy drawer.

Hmmmm…. it’s not much but it’s the thought that counts.

I look over to Kira and tell her imma need to take 5. “Candy break?” She asks, watching me sneak a few pieces away. “Something like that” I reply.

Walking down the hallway to the smeetery felt like an eternity. What do I say? How will he respond? Lord, what if he wakes the other smeets and I gotta clear out my whole snack stash to not upset the others? What if he cries? If his PAK spazes out again, what if I have to shock him again? What if I fail my mission? What will the control brains do to me? what if… what if I have to kill him? How would I live with myself if I...hurt my smeet? Shit. I gotta stop doing that. He’s not MY smeet. He belongs to Irk. I’m just a guardian, nothing more. But… I never want him to leave my side. But he also has a job to do! For Irk! I hope he never becomes an invader. Keep him here, where it’s safe. Maybe the science division or something… hmmmmm.”

“Uhhh…” I hear next to me, a random voice sounding concerned. It breaks my concentration and I see another guard, head slightly tilted, staring at me. “You good, man?”

Oh! Seems I have been standing at the door for some time. I laughed. “Yeah. Sorry. Just got a lot on my mind.”

“It’s cool” she smiled “just don’t let the higher ups catch you wandering around aimlessly.”

“I appreciate it. Thanks!” I said waving as she went about her way. “Higher ups?” Yeah. Not a whole lot of fear there. Nothing can be worse than what we’ve already experienced.

The door opened, inviting me to the darkness of the smeetery. Was it always so cold in here? The only light shines from a few wires and screens on the walls but other than that, it’s pretty pitch black. A totally different feel to the liveliness of the early shift when spirits are high and bodies are active. Luckily, our vision is enhanced in our tubes, far before we go online so nighttime is never an issue for us.

I creep over to the nesting area, where all the little bodies are snoozing (or snoring in Skoodge’s case) and see those ruby eyes staring at the ceiling. I notice his antenna perk and he looks my direction, instantly making a face of aggression.

“What?”

That the hell kinda greeting is that? Little rude shit. I wanna smack him outside his little skull but I take a deep breath and calmly whisper. “Ain’t you supposed to be asleep?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I’m your guard. It IS my business. Why ain’t you asleep?”

“I’m not tired.”

“Something bothering you?”

“No.”

I can see it written all over his face in glow in the dark paint. “Ah-ha. You really are a bad liar. Is it cuz your legs?”

“NO.” He turned to face away from me.

“Hey. Listen: you’re going to get it. I know you will.”

“But how come Tak could so easily? All mine do is attack me.”

“Just because she got it faster than you, that doesn’t make her better than you.”

“Zim never claimed it did.”

He’s hurt. His words and his feelings are battling against each other. Tak being able to activate her PAK legs without any difficulties was eating him alive but he would never admit it.

“Listen… Zim. It’s going to get easier. You just gotta keep at it. Small steps get you far in life.”

He shrugged, sitting up, curling into himself. “Zim wonders about that sometimes. Maybe… he isn’t meant to get it.”

There it is. “Of course you are.” I said, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. “I believe in you. You are going to find a way. You never give up. I don’t think you know how.”

He looked my way, eyes wide and glassy. SHIT. Imma make him cry!? I didn’t mean to!

“You… you do?”

Huh?

“Of course I believe in you, dummy. And I will be here every step of the way. I got you.” I said, grazing my thumb across his cheek. A smile took the place of that awful frown and his eyes lit. “Here. I got you a little something, but only if you try to get some sleep. You got a long day of training with your PAK and you need all the rest you can get. Oh, and don’t let anyone know I did this.” I said putting my finger to my lips.

I reached into a belt pocket and grabbed a wrapped hard candy. With two fingers I held it in front of him, he looked at it inquisitively. His grubby little hands reached for it and I let him grab it. He stared at it, slowly unwrapping it and Then glanced back at me. I guess he didn’t trust it.

“It’s not drugged or nuthin’. Just some sweets.”

Again, he stared at me.

“What?”

“Your accent is really weird.”

“Just eat the damn candy and shut up” I said, pushing the sweet into his mouth. He just huffed but suckled on.

“Now DON'T cause anymore problems and get some shut eye. I will see you bright n’ early.”

He just puffed his cheeks and rolled over. Think I handled that well. And maybe, hopefully tomorrow will be a better day for him.

Smiled and waved on my way out. Dunno if he saw me but it doesn’t hurt. Walked into the hallway, into dread. Leaned against the wall and slid down.

Us E.L.I.T.E.S can’t disobey orders from the Control brains but… I pray with everything I have in me that things stay like this forever. Cuz’ if i ever had my mission changed or if I had to hurt him… idunno what I would do.

Zara out

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 5

We back at it again because I love this right now

----------------

After smuggling Derek into my room via the window, the interrogation began. He sat in my computer chair, leaning over, resting his arms on his legs.

“Uh, first I want to say thank you for saving me again.” I began. He looked up and nodded. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“And uh, you’re a werewolf.” I said, starting to pace back and forth, “Is Scott a werewolf?” 

“He is.” 

“Did you bite him?” I paused, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“No, I’m an omega. Only Alphas can give people the gift.” He said. You call that a gift? I’d like a receipt.

“Is there a cure?”

“There’s a legend that says if the beta, one of the pack, kills the alpha then he will become human again. But I don’t even know if that’s true.” He explained. That meant Scott’s odds were not looking good and this werewolf thing is permanent. 

“Were you bitten by the alpha?” I asked, sitting down on the edge of my bed. 

“No, I was born with it. My family was a pack. After…” He paused, “After the fire, my older sister became the alpha since she had been trained by my mother to be the new matriarch. I came back here because I hadn’t heard from her. Now we know why.” 

“I’m so sorry.” I looked down at my socks. These questions were making him bring up what must have been incredibly painful memories and bringing up the fresh pain of the murder of his sister. 

“The thing following you in the woods was the new alpha. He killed her for her alpha spark.” 

“Alpha spark?” 

“It can transform a beta, or an omega into an alpha. It’s taken when the alpha is killed by either of those. Or it can be transferred willingly.” This was a little more complicated than I thought. I knew that there were hierarchies in wolves, but who knew it translated to werewolves?

“Why is the alpha coming after me? You said it was following me.” 

He leaned back in the chair, “Well, he’s either looking to eat you. Or he wanted to turn you.” At my shocked expression he added, “Probably the latter. He’s a new alpha so he’s trying to start a pack, probably why he started with Scott. Speaking of, you need to tell him to stop seeing Allison.” 

“Why, what’s wrong with Allison?” 

“Her family are a very old lineage of werewolf hunters.” He said seriously, “Chris Argent and I have an unspoken agreement. No deaths, I don’t end up dead. I can’t say the same for the rest of his family.” He was something in his eyes, a pain that couldn’t be described. 

“I know I said I wanted answers but if its too painful-”

“It’s fine.” He interrupted. I raised my eyebrows at him. 

“Derek, I understand what it’s like to lose your family in one day. It’s the most awful feeling imaginable. Because after the pain is the loneliness. I got lucky that I have Uncle Noah and Stiles. You had your sister and now she’s gone and you’re the only one left.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. 

“It’s not just me. I have an uncle in a vegetative state at Beacon Hills long-term facility. And my sister Cora, I haven’t seen her since the fire. I think she’s gone too, but there’s always the chance that she’s still out there. She just doesn’t want anything to do with me.” He looked down at his hands. He looked so vulnerable right now, something I never expected from him. He had so many walls up. There were still things he was hiding about the Argents, but pushing him now didn’t seem right. 

I gave him a small smile and kneeled down in front of him. Slowly, I reached for his hands, giving him plenty of time to pull away, but he let me touch him. I held his hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs over his knuckles. I titled my head to meet his eyes that he was hiding. 

“Hey, grief is hard. Especially since we lost our families in the same way. Let’s help each other. Would that be okay?” I asked softly. He met my eyes finally, his stern expression was more loose than usual. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“I want to. But I can’t.” 

The sound of the door opened behind us, and queue Stiles meltdown. And with the position I was in, on my knees in front of Derek Hale, maybe it was a little justified. 

“What is going on?” He asked. I quickly got to my feet. 

“Uh, Derek was just leaving. Just a quick little visit.” I took Derek by the arm, brought him out of the chair and ushered him to the window, where he left without another word. 

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” Stiles shouted. 

“Will you keep it down?” I whispered loudly. 

“Oh you can cut the crap, Dad isn’t here. Why the hell is a wanted criminal in my house?!” 

I crossed my arms and shrugged innocently, “We were just talking.” 

“Why was he covered in blood?” He pointed to the dry blood that was on the arm of my chair. I sighed and rubbed my temples. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to tell your dad.” I pleaded. He crossed his arms and looked away from me. 

“As an upstanding citizen of Beacon Hills-”

“You cut the crap, Stiles. You have more priors than he does.” 

“I wasn’t questioned about the murder of my sister.” He shot.

“He was acquitted of all changes due to his alibi.” I shot back.

He grumbled and shook his hands, “Fine, fine. Tell me.” 

“Okay, so, Michael found me in the woods-” 

“Michael-” He started. 

“Hey, no interrupting!” He held his hands up in surrender, motioning for me to go on, “He found me in the woods and was probably going to commit a bunch of unsavory things on me when Derek showed up because the night before when you and Scott were arguing, I went to his house to get some answers of my own, he told me to go home so I did.” I paused and took a drink out of the glass of water on my nightstand, then continued, “Anyway, when Derek showed up he killed Michael because Derek is a werewolf.” I rushed out. 

“A what?!” He shouted. 

“Oh don’t act so surprised, you know Scott is a werewolf.” 

He stepped back, pretending to be shocked, “Scott? A werewolf.” Clearly trying to cover for his friend, but no dice. Stiles was a terrible liar. 

“Derek told me. And he also told me that Allison’s family are werewolf hunters. But I assumed you already knew that because you don’t look surprised at all.” 

“Well, ahhh, her last name does mean silver in French.”  He added. I shook my head, holding my pinkie out. 

“Pinkie swear me you won’t tell Uncle Noah.” He sighed, tapping his foot, “Promise!” He grumbled, throwing his hands up in the air, but eventually he wrapped his pinkie around mine. 

“Fine.” He paused, still holding my pinkie, his grip on my finger tightened, holding me there, “But you have to swear not to get romantically involved!” He pulled his pinkie away. I gasped loudly, staring between my pinkie and his. 

“You can’t do that.” 

He smirked, “I just did.” 

“I am not romantically involved with Derek.” I blushed. 

“Coulda fooled me.” He scoffed. I huffed. 

“Okay, time for you to go. Goodnight Stiles.” I pushed him out the door and slammed it behind me. I leaned against the door and sighed. I wasn’t romantically involved with Derek, we just had a connection. 

��

Maybe I was romantically involved. But could you blame me, he was my knight in shining armor twice. That was attractive. And he was far from ugly. 

- 

The next morning, I went downstairs and was surprised to see Uncle Noah in the kitchen making breakfast. 

“Morning, I didn’t hear you come in last night.” I said, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. 

“That’s because,” He yawned, “I came in this morning.” He motioned to the table, “Sit, sit. Let me make you breakfast.” I sat at the table, pulling an apple out of the basket on the table. He placed a plate of eggs and toast in front of me. 

I smiled up at him, “Thanks, Uncle Noah.” He nodded, sitting down with his own plate before eating. The few minutes were in silence, just chewing. I decided I should at least talk, make it seem like I was still scared that Michael would come back. 

“I know you don’t want to bring up work at home, but is there any news on Michael?” He sighed through his nose, swallowing his bite of food. 

“It’s okay. And I wish I had better news, but we still haven’t found anything.” He said. I nodded. 

“It’s okay, I know you’ll find him.” Find his body? Maybe. But he was very much dead. The only thing I’m worried about now in the woods was the alpha werewolf and whether he wanted to make me lunch or one of them. 

- 

I was making my way out to get groceries when I saw Stiles Jeep whipping through the neighborhood. Being curious, I decided to follow, where I was led to Dr. Deaton’s office, the local veterinarian that Scott worked for. 

“Is there a reason you’re driving like a bat outta hell?” I called, seeing Stiles get out. 

“Oh great, you can help me carry him.” Stiles said, opening the back of the Jeep where Derek sat. He was pale, his eyes looked sunken in, and there was blood dripping down his hand. 

“Jesus Christ.” I said, carefully helping Derek out of the Jeep. He grunted while Stiles and I helped him inside after Stiles unlocked the door with the spare key. Scott had gone to go find the bullet so that Derek could cure himself, he would have to steal from Kate Argent.

 We brought him back into the operating area. I’m sure Stiles was chomping at the bit not to say something. Derek explained that he had been on the trail of the alpha when a hunter saw and shot him. 

Stiles looked at his phone then Derek, “Does Northern Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?”

Derek was leaning on the operating table, “It’s a rare form of wolfsbane. He has to bring me the bullet.”

“Why?”

Derek looked from me to Stiles, “Cause I’m gonna die without it.” He said breathlessly. He took his jacket, then his shirt off to reveal the bullet wound in his arm which was bleeding, but the strangest thing was his veins around the wound were purple and crawling up his arm. I guess Monkshood must be deadly to werewolves, but then again, it is wolfsbane. Derek looked manic, he was getting warmer and sweat was dripping off of him in buckets. He looked around and grabbed an amputation saw.  I grabbed a bowl filled with water and grabbed a couple paper towels. I wet the paper towels, and moving to touch his wounded arm, he pulled it away.

“Okay, if the Blue monkshood doesn’t kill you, an infection will. Let me help you.” I narrowed my eyes. He glared, his nostrils flared but he held his arm out. I lightly dabbed at it, careful not to apply too much pressure.

Stiles gagged when he saw it, prompting me to elbow his side, “Okay, you know, that really doesn’t look like anything, some echinacea and a good night’s sleep couldn’t take care of…?”

Derek swallowed thickly, “When the infection reaches my heart, it’ll kill me.”

“Positivity” just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it?”

“Stiles!” I scolded. 

“If he doesn’t get here with the bullet in time– last resort.” Derek grabbed an amputation saw from the table. 

“Which is…?” Stiles asked. 

“You’re gonna cut off my arm.” He rushed his words out, they slightly slurred together. 

“Okay okay.” I grabbed the saw from his grasp and set it back down on a metal tray, “Let’s just be a little optimistic. Scott’s going to be here soon.” He glared at me, causing me to raise my hands in surrender. He grabbed a rubber tourniquet and tied it tightly around his arm with his teeth to stop any further movement. 

Stiles held his arms out, “Oh, my God. What if you bleed to death?”

“It’ll heal if it works.”

“If it works?!” I snapped, not believing that any of this was happening still.

Stiles sight, “Ugh. Look - I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!”

“You’re not afraid of blood. You don’t faint.” I said, confused. 

“No, but I might at the sight of a chopped - off arm!” 

“All right, fine. How about this? Either you cut off my arm, or I’m gonna cut off your head.” Derek glared. 

“Derek.” I scolded.

Stiles shook his head, “Okay, you know what, I'm so not buying your threats any-” Derek grabbed him by the shirt collar and lifted him up, “Oh, my God. Okay. All right, bought, sold. Totally. I’ll do it. I’ll do it.” Derek dropped him and Stiles looked back at his arm, “What? What are you doing? Holy God, what the hell is that?” His arm was oozing from the wound. 

“It’s my body..” Derek breathed out, “Trying to heal itself.”

“Well, it’s not doing a very good job of it.” Stiles avoided his arm once again.  

Derek grabbed the saw, holding it out to Stiles, “Now. You gotta do it now.”

“Look, honestly, I don’t think I can.”

“Just do it!” He shouted. 

Stiles took the saw, “Oh, my God. Okay, okay. Oh, my God. All right, here we go!” 

“I can’t watch this.” I covered my eyes with one of my hands, the other was on Derek’s uninjured arm. But like an angel’s voice, we heard Scott yelling for Stiles. 

“Scott?” Stiles asked, looking at the frazzled teen who just ran through the clinic.  I uncovered my eyes, still seeing Stiles with the saw pressed to Derek’s arm.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott asked, exasperated. 

Stiles dropped the saw, “Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares.” 

Derek stood up more without the help of the table but he was starting to wobble, “Did you get it?”

“What are you gonna do with it?” Stiles asked. 

Derek swallowed thickly, “I’m gonna…I’m gonna…” His eyes fluttered shut, his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. 

“Derek!” I shouted, grabbing his torso before he broke his skull open on the floor. When Derek had dropped, it had knocked the bullet out of Scott’s hand and it had rolled.

“No. No, no, no, no.” Scott pleaded as he watched the bullet roll and fall into the vent in the floor. 

Stiles was down on the floor besides me, “Derek. Derek, come on, wake up.” He was tapping his cheek, “Scott, what the hell are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know! I can’t reach it.” Scott called from across the room.

“He’s not waking up!” Stiles said between his teeth, clearly in panic mode, but I wasn’t any better. I leaned my head down to his chest, trying to hear his heartbeat. 

“His heart beats slowing down!” I called, I grabbed his shoulder, starting to shake him, “Come on, Derek, wake up!”

“Come on.” I heard Scott grunt.

“I think he’s dying. I think he’s dead!” Stiles looking back in Scott’s direction. I started to panic, shaking him harder. I can’t lose him. I can’t. No one else I care about is allowed to die.

“Just hold on! Come on.” Scott let out a restrained yell, then shouted “Oh! I got it! I got it!” 

When Stiles heard that, he pushed me back and bowed his fist, “Please don’t kill me for this.” He swung and connected with Derek’s cheek, “Ugh! Ow! God!” He pulled his hand away, shaking it. Derek gasped and his eyes shot open, I helped Derek to feet and held his waist to steady him.

“Give me…” Scott gave Derek the bullet. He took the bullet between his teeth, and broke it open. He dumped the contents of it on the table. From his back pocket he pulled out a match book, he lit a match and dropped it on the contents. It burned quickly, an eerie blue flame. Once it went out, he pinched some of the ash in his fingers, then stuck his fingers in the wound. I winched and looked away. 

“Ow, God.” Stiles gagged. But we all watched in amazement as the dark veins that had been growing up his arm disappeared. I was finally able to breathe properly, I let out a sigh of relief, back away and leaning against the wall. I placed a hand on my chest, feeling my heart slowly go back into rhythm.

“That - Was - Awesome! Yes!” Stiles cheered, throwing his arms up. 

“Are you okay?” Scott asked.  

Derek grumbled a bit, “Well, except for the agonizing pain.”

“I’m guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health.” Stiles smiled, feeling accomplished. He probably just was relieved that he didn’t have to cut anyone’s arm off. 

“Okay, we saved your life, which means you’re gonna leave us alone, you got that? And if you don’t, I’m gonna go back to Allison’s dad, and I’m gonna tell him everything-” Scott started his threat. Which meant that I was severely out of the loop. 

“You’re gonna trust them?” Derek cut him off,  “You think they can help you?”

“Well, why not? They’re a lot freaking nicer than you are.”

 Derek glared at him, the pain was back in his eyes, “I can show you exactly how nice they are.” 

-

After the excitement was over, I decided to go to the Hale house to talk to Derek privately. I got there before him and waited for him in the driveway. I really shouldn’t have come unannounced. He would probably just tell me to get lost like he usually did. I was pulled out of my thoughts by his black Camaro pulling up beside my car. I got out as he did. Derek still looked pretty rough but his color was coming back to his skin.

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” He said dismissively, walking towards his house. And we were back to this. Even after everything, it’s like our relationship reset itself every time we saw each other. I followed after him, hot on his heels.

“Why do you keep doing this?” I asked, closing the door behind me.

“Doing what?” He took his leather jacket off and hung it up.

“You and I, we talk, we get more comfortable with each other. I think I am finally getting through that shell of yours only for you to make another one.”

Derek turned to face me, “I don’t owe you any explanation. I am fine by myself.”

“No, you’re not.” I came closer to him, my face mere inches from his, “You’re not fine by yourself. I saw how you looked tonight when Scott brought up the Argents. You were hurt, and scared, and angry. You can’t just sit here in this house and pour yourself into finding this alpha, you’re going to kill yourself. You almost died today.”

“He killed my sister! He is killing people and now Kate Argent is back and she doesn’t follow the Code. She will do anything, no matter how awful it is, to murder my kind. She’s the reason my family is gone!” He barked back. I took a deep breath.

“I know you want justice for Laura. I do too. But you can’t do that if you’re dead. Is that what she would want? Her little brother dead trying to get revenge?” Derek avoided my gaze, looking through me more than at me.

“Derek.” I said softly, slowly bringing my hand up to his cheek. He inhaled sharply, becoming stiff under my touch.

I stood on my tiptoes to press my forehead against his and whispered, “This is selfish to say… but I can’t lose you too. I-I thought you were dead. You have to be more careful. Please.” His body became less rigid and he let out a shaky breath. He slowly brought his hand to my waist, the other sliding over my hand that rested on his cheek. In that moment, it felt like the whole universe stopped. It was only me and him. It was like our minds finally connected and our souls touched. There was silence, only the wind blowing softly through the trees. 

“I can’t do this.” He whispered, closing his eyes. 

“You can.” I laced my fingers with his against his cheek, “We can do it together.” 

“I can’t let myself.” He opened his eyes again to meet mine, “When I’m with you I lose focus, you’re all I can think about. I get distracted from what I need to do. So I ignore you, treat us like it's nothing because I can’t open myself up again. Not after… not after what happened.” He was opening up, if not all the way, just a little. Derek had a good point. Finding the alpha and killing him was the only way to get justice for Laura. And if I was distracting him, maybe I should keep my distance. He clearly has been hurt terribly by someone, and hearing him bare his soul made me think about how to make it better. But what was I to do? My demons were killed, Derek deserved to destroy his own. 

“Do you want me to go away?” My words were barely a whisper. 

He licked his lips, “If I was allowed to be selfish, I would never let you go.” I took a deep breath, dreading the fact that I had to leave him. 

“Okay.” I smiled, trying to ignore my burning tear ducts, “I’ll go home. And… I won’t come back unless you want me to.” I reluctantly slipped my hand out of his. But, I need one selfish thing if I was ever going to live with this. I leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. I pulled away, feeling his hand fall from my waist. I kept my eyes on the floor as I walked out of the Hale house, got into my car and drove away. 

---------------------------

Read part 6 here!

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[hoekaashi]

3 am Talks - hq pt 4

a/n: first and foremost, please don’t attack me for the twins’ accent. i know i didn’t even try but i also don’t have the brain capacity to do it rn. second, i know i did karasuno but i was requested to do asahi after posting it and i wasn’t gonna make a separate post for just him so i slapped his ass onto this one (: pairings: kita x reader, atsumu x reader, osamu x reader, suna x reader, sakusa x reader, asahi x reader warnings: language, some spoilers for post time skip taglist: @babydabi​, @suckersuki​, @bakugoustanaccount​, @animoozies​ part 3

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

⇾ omg this boy is gonna talk about how proud he his of his teammates ⇾ like full on proud dad moment (i imagine him like that one panel from the last chapter, just so proud) ⇾ he’s such a soft man, he would talk about how he wants to start a family with you ⇾ what do you mean the sheep aren’t our kids??? ⇾ so would wear a soft smile listening to you ramble on about something ⇾ he would love to hear whatever was going on inside your mind, would never tell you to stop talking or cut you off. Ever.

You climbed into bed after waking up to pee in the middle of the night. Kita had been up for a while and you were unsure as to why he was still up. Before you fell asleep, the two of you had been watching his old teammates play a match on tv and he had been praising them the entire time. “What are you doing up still?” “I was texting in the group chat after you fell asleep and I just can’t sleep now.” You sat cross legged next to him. “What’s on your mind now?” “How I want to start a family with you in the future.” That came out of the blue. Neither of you really talked about that far in the future. “The twins started arguing again and Aran started yelling at me to get them to stop. I asked him why he was telling me to stop them and everyone replied that it was because I’m the only one they still listen to. And then everyone started talking about how I was like the team dad even after all this time and I started thinking about how I would be if I was a father and if I would still act the same. I looked down at you sleeping and the thought just came to me.” You were speechless. “I mean, not that I have any problems with having kids with you, but I wouldn’t classify the twins as test subjects on your parental qualifications. I don’t think they compare to toddlers because the twins actually listen.” “Well, that’s why we have chicken. And sheep.” Kita gave you a warm smile. “Honey, I love you, but please don’t tell me that you just compared animals to human children. Possibly ours.” “It’s okay. It’s good practice.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ for as much as i shit on him, i do love atsumu (osamu is the superior twin, sorry lei) ⇾ but this poor baby would always be in such a negative head space after losing a match ⇾ literally thinks his entire team hates him, his coach wants to replace him, his brother and ex teammates would look down on him, wondering what was so great about him ⇾ he would just need to get his feelings out without judgement - just hold him while he word vomits but sometimes he does need to hear some motivation to get him out of his funk ⇾ this kind of feeds into the other things he would talk about if he didn’t have a match ⇾ just a lot of talk about his insecurities and how he feels inferior to other people his cocky persona is fake ⇾ just wrap him in a blanket and feed him comfort food as he lets out everything weighing down on his heart

“If I didn’t fuck up five serves, we coulda won.” Atsumu was laying on his stomach with his head on your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair. “You weren’t the only person who messed up today. You can’t blame yourself for losing the game when everyone made a mistake at some point.” “But mine were so easy to prevent.” He wrapped his arms around your waist tighter. “I know when I go into practice next week, coach is gonna bench me. I’m not even mad, I deserve it.” “Tsumu, don’t say that.” “It’s true. Samu even called me out on it after. And I know the entire team wants me out.” At this point, you didn’t know what else to say because no matter what, Atsumu was going to believe that he was the worst player on the team. “I’m just holding everyone back.” Your hand stilled in his hair. “Tsumu, the only other setter who’s managed to pull off that crazy quick with Hinata is Kageyama. Plus you got Bokuto on your team too! Both of those players are so high energy and hard to manage, yet you make it look so easy. So you had an off day, everyone does. Everybody makes mistakes, everybody has those days -” He got up and glared at you before you had a chance to finish what you were saying. “Hannah Montana is not the right person to bring into this motivational speech.” “But you sing Hoedown Throwdown and True Friend on a weekly basis.” “And you better take that sentence with you to the grave.” You grinned at him. “But imagine how much money I could get for selling those twelve little words to the press.” Yes. He tackled you and made you swear on your life that you wouldn’t tell a soul.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ it depends on his mood: either he’s doing all the talking or he’s strictly listening, there’s no in between ⇾ when he’s talking, it could be about a n y t h i n g ⇾ from atsumu to food to you to work to a new show he’s watching to kita to meeting up with friends ⇾ literally anything ⇾ he doesn’t necessarily need to know you for a long time, but he does need to feel close to you if he ever talks about how he feels about you ⇾ he’s not the type to be soft of the regular, so when he is being soft, he’ll be even quieter, maybe even hide his face in your neck or your stomach depending on the position the two of you are cuddling in ⇾ when you’re the one doing the talking, his hands are always busy doing something - most of the time playing with your hair, but it could also be playing with your hands, massaging your hips, etc

“- so Kita blocked our numbers.” “I mean, you did cuss out Atsumu while his phone was on speaker and he was with his grandmother.” “How was I supposed to know that?” he asked quietly into your neck. You laughed. “Let him talk next time. You and your brother you are adults now, so stop arguing like children.” “I can’t help it, he pisses me off sometimes.” You hummed. “Give Kita a fruit basket or take him out to lunch and apologize.” He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles before pulling you closer into his chest. “Yeah I’ll do that.” “Ooo! What if you have him test out that new recipe you were telling -” “No. I always have you test new dishes and that won’t change,” he mumbled. “Samu?” He nuzzled his face further, his breath warm on your neck. His hand moved to your hip and alternated from massaging you to rubbing his hand up and down. “You’ve gotten me this far and everything worked fine. I don’t wanna change anything.” You reached back and lightly scratched the nape of his neck. You turned over and found his face closer to yours that you expected. His arm went back to resting on your hips with his hand on your butt, pulling you closer. He gave you a light kiss on the tip of your nose. “Are you saying I’m your good luck charm?” you asked teasingly. “Nothing’s gone wrong since you’ve come into my life. I’m gonna fucking marry you one day.” You smiled. “Yeah, you also said that when you got your wisdom teeth removed. I’m still waiting on the ring.” He pulled you into a hug, your head in his chest, his lips placing another kiss on your forehead. “Don’t rush me or your not getting anything.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ he wouldn’t talk at 3 am ⇾ would literally tell you to shut up and go to sleep ⇾ and if you didn’t stop talking, he would get up and either go to someone else’s place or tell you to leave ⇾ this man does not care about what you’re thinking or what you have to say when he’s trying to sleep ⇾ so don’t expect him to be all soft and listen to you - better yet, talk

“So I was thinking -” Suna grumbled. “Yeah? You better stop thinking.” “But I’ll forget in the morning.” “Then it wasn’t necessary to talk about.” “I’m gonna say it.” “You’re gonna shut the fuck up if you wanna sleep here tonight.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ a listener ⇾ would literally tell you to shut up and go to bed jk, not really ⇾ if he’s up at 3 am with you, he’s listening to music ⇾ for sure he won’t be talking and doesn’t really want to have to pay attention to whatever you’re saying ⇾ not in a rude way but like, it’s late and he doesn’t feel like using brain cells at the time ⇾ if you are talking and he loves you, he won’t tell you to shut up or stop, but don’t expect a reply from him ⇾ depending on his mood, he’ll choose to listen or not, and when he’s listening, he’ll make sure you know that he is

“Did you make this lofi playlist?” You were scrolling through your shared Spotify account on your phone, trying to find something to listen to since neither of you could sleep. “Yes.” You played it, both of you enjoying the soothing music that filled the quiet of the room. “Do you have a fanclub?” Sakusa hummed. “Is that a yes or a no?” It took him a minute, but he replied. “Not sure. Why?” “I don’t know how I feel about a group of girls drooling over you.” Were you proud? Jealous? Indifferent? You couldn’t figure it out. But the fact that he asked made you happy that he cared enough to bother listening to you. “Why should you care?” You looked over at him. “Well, what if they’re the crazy type of fans who try to break in here. Or don’t like that we’re dating and try to kill me?” He laid there in silence with his eyes closed as you spoke about all the extreme types of fans that you had heard about. Once you finished, he remained quiet. You felt bad, thinking that you bored him to sleep. “Love, I think you’ve been listening to too many true crime podcasts.” “But still, those types of people exist.” Sakusa shifted with his eyes closed, pulling you so you were resting on his chest. “Stop thinking about that. It’s stupid. Now go to sleep.” “But -” “Go to sleep.” “I can’t.” He shushed you. “Sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ jesus would talk about his insecurities ⇾ would catch you up with his friends aka the other third years ⇾ but also i feel like his anxiety traveled with him into adulthood so like, lots of stress talks about releasing new designs on time and not wanting to let people down/be a failure ⇾ he would talk about his travels too, the different things he enjoyed from each country he visited with noya ⇾ would make plans to go somewhere with you when both of you had the time to drop off the face of the earth for a little bit

“So where else did you want to visit?” you asked. “Maybe Switzerland?” You nodded. “That’s a good choice. Want to do anything specific?” “Not really. When I was with Noya, we kind of just winged everything. It was more exciting and memorable that way.” “I do remember you being more free.” Whenever he called you or sent you pictures and videos, he seemed more happy. “Really?” “Uh huh.” “I do remember feeling less stressed. I have a deadline coming up soon and the pressure is intense.” “Does it feel like volleyball stress?” He gave you a little shrug. “A bit? I have a team - a different type of team - and I don’t want to let them down, but in this case, I’m the captain without anyone to rely on. Everyone else needs me to have everything together, so I don’t have the time to freak out or be stressed.” “Yet, you’re still a ball of anxiety.” “Am I?” He grimaced. You nodded. “I’m trying to get better. It’s really hard when there’s a voice in the back of your mind telling you that if you mess up, everyone will be let down and disappointed in you. On top of that, the media and public are so harsh with everything. There’s just a lot of pressure.” “But you’ve done so well. Sure things were a little shaky when you first started, but you’re well known now and well loved.” “You have a point. I’ll do better for you.” You smiled. “I’m already proud of you, don’t worry about that.”

[cal-puddies]

is it warm enough for you inside me? || calum hood

this is 100% a joint effort with @kindahoping4forever​. So if you are lucky enough to live in the midwest of the US, then you know we had a random one day snow storm the other and I was talking to crystal about it. mind you i was drinking so i launched into the tropiest idea i could and this is what came out. Make sure you give her extra love too because she doesn’t realize how fucking good she is at writing.

Cal had been your best friend for a while, you couldn’t exactly remember when you met, but you’d run into him and Ashton and he quite literally ran into you, knocking you on your ass and it’s all history from there. 

The two of you had decided a get away was in order, work stress for you and him being home from tour for too long, you both needed a break. 

And getting there was a disaster, Cal had mistaken AM flights for PM flights and booked because they were a good deal, and you didn’t actually see the tickets until last minute only to realize you needed to be up at 3 am and it had been midnight and you were tipsy and still not fully packed. 

Then the airline lost your bag. You had to wait in the airport for hours to get a rental because they were all out and you were 12 hours early.

To make matters worse, you still had to drive in a snowstorm over two hours to get to the cabin he’d rented. And you, of course, trip in the snow almost immediately. And it wasn’t light, fluffy snow, it was the super heavy, super wet stuff, and it of course soaked you through. 

So that brings you to now, tired and cold, with no extra clothes for the night except what Cal decides he can spare. It leaves you in his hoodie and your panties. The two of you sitting in front of the fire, making s’mores. 

He’s wearing the crotch hole jeans and telling  you about how he had to teach Luke about graham crackers. 

“You’re kind of being an asshole.” He mentions. 

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a fun getaway. I haven’t slept in two days and I don’t know If I’m getting my bag back or I just have to wear the same clothes for the next four days.” You gripe. “And I’m fucking cold.” You groan. 

Cal nods in understanding. “I know I messed up the flights but you don’t have to take everything out on me.” He reminds you. 

You relax, because he’s right and you’d be equally as annoyed if he treated you like this. You head for the couch and throw a blanket over your lap. 

And not too long after that is when you propose the alcohol gets cracked open for the "scientific warmth", and when you cheers to your first drink, he calls a truce.

“Sorry for being a jerk, just everything that could, did go wrong” he murmurs, clinking glasses.

“Murphy’s law.” You mumble, agreeing. 

Downing your shot, you can't help but get one last jab in, "I can feel you getting likeable again already!" and then as it usually goes whenever one of you gets in a Mood, it's immediately as if nothing happened. 

You're laughing about the way you fell in the snow and doing impressions of the unhelpful airline employees who couldn't help with your bag situation.

And Cal notices you hogging the blanket on the couch, so he just climbs on next to you and helps himself, “you already got my hoodie so you gotta share.” 

“I’d share anything with you,” you mumble under your breath.

Which he doesn't hear because Cal is making a show of getting comfortable with you on the couch, “so cozy, so comfy,” and he pulls you against him for maximum comfort for you both.

And you lay there together for a while, talking about everything and nothing, his hands are slipping under the hoodie after the third drink because you are warm in his hoodie and his hands are cold.

You gasp at his touch but not entirely because of the temperature change. Calum hood could touch you 100000 times and you’d still never be ready for the full on butterfly feeling

He nonchalantly drums his fingers on your  bare skin because he's Cal and hasn't noticed how your breathing has changed, doesn’t notice you seem to hold your breath and you’re not laughing as much, because what if your stomach feels weird to him and he’s grossed out. 

You kind of panic and you know you need an out of this situation. So you end up exaggeratedly yawning, “think I’m gonna head to bed Cal, I’m exhausted.” You mumble. But you know you just need to put some space between you for even just a few minutes, you don't know how much longer you can pretend that your face is flushed from drinking. 

Cal agrees “yeah, we should get some rest so we can fight the airline for your fuckin bag,” so he’s behind you, rambling, and when you make it to the bedroom in your little cabin, you realize Calum must have booked one with only one bed. You stop short in the doorway.

He finally makes it to the door and bumps into you. He takes in the room and kind of laughs, “coulda sworn I asked for two.” He scratches the back of his neck. 

“It’s cool, I’ll sleep on the couch.” You shrug, turning to walk away, it’s too crowded in here now. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll freeze, we’ll share.” 

"Great" you sigh, and while he's gone back to the living room to make sure everything's locked up, you quickly rearrange the bedding to form a makeshift pillow wall down the middle of the bed,  so you have at least some hope of being able to rest. You rush to the bathroom to pull yourself together as you hear him coming back down the hall.

Cal thinks the pillow wall is ridiculous when and is rearranging the bed when you come back, he gives you this look like ‘what is wrong with you?’

“What?! My back hurts from tensing up and shivering; I just wanted some extra support.” 

“I can rub your back, and if you're still that cold, we should probably snuggle up skin to skin. You know, transfer body heat and all that.” He explains. 

You groan internally as he strips down, to his underwear and snuggles into the bed, “here I’ll get it warmed up for ya.” He smiles, and wow he’s looking so cute smiley and snugg in the bed, cheeks tinted pink from the alcohol. He makes a show of kicking his legs and rolling around to warm up the bed, and then looks at you, “c’mon! It’s warm, hoodie off.” 

“Calum.” You roll your eyes.

"Just tryna help, love," and next thing you know he's pouting with those plush lips and god, you really could not have made this a worse situation for yourself if you had tried. You fidget with the hem of the hoodie for a beat longer before you offer an exasperated "Fuck it" and tear it off and hurriedly slide under the covers.

“That’s my girl.” Calums grins, pulling you into him. He wraps his arm around you and starts absentmindedly rubbing your back, “isn’t this better? The bed is warm, we’re cuddled up together rather than having all those pillows to make sure we both stay cold?”

You roll your eyes to yourself at his ability to remain totally oblivious to the situation. It's so Calum. This isn't the first time your attraction to him has gotten the best of you but it's definitely the closest you've come to having to address it. Wrapped up in tattooed arms, bare chest pressed up against your back, this is the closest you've been to Calum, period. "You were right, 's great, Cal. Thanks" you say warmly but in a tone you hope makes it clear the conversation doesn't need to continue.

He stays quiet for a little bit, burying his face against the back of your neck. “Glad we decided to get away.” He murmurs, and you get goosebumps as his lips brush against the back of your neck. “Are you cold? Here, turn over, against me.” He says softly.

You can't think of a reason not to so you flip over as requested. He runs his hand vigorously up and down your arm, that he's decided entirely on his own needs warming. In a genuine but light tone, you ask, "How are you not tired? We got up so early and everything that went wrong... hell is literally freezing over right now. Why are you not sleeping?" 

Without even a beat of hesitation, he shrugs and answers simply, "Guess I'd rather talk to you."

You let out a little sigh. Cal was aloof. No idea what those words meant to you, no idea of the total effect he was having on you, and you’re not even sure he’d care if he did know and that was annoying enough.

You must still have a notable amount of liquid courage in you because you hear yourself press him, "Well. Let's talk then. Tell me something I don't know. And make it interesting, Hood."

And he decides to match your courage, “I think you’re pretty.” He murmurs, in case you don’t hear him and he can take it back.

You purse your lips in thought. Normally you're a big believer in the "go big or go home" mindset but the problem here is if this goes wrong, you can't go home because of the storm. His admission isn't much but coming from Cal, it's kind of a lot. Realizing you need to respond before either of you lose your nerve, you take a deep breath and move the slightest bit closer to him on the bed. "You got me drunk and naked during a blizzard just to tell me I'm pretty?"

Cal lets out a sigh of relief and grins at you, “best laid plans darlin... what did you wanna hear, about how I wanna kiss you, or suck your clit instead?” He decides to be brash right back.

You grin back at him while your mind is going a mile a minute. You search his eyes, trying to decide how much of this is him trying to get a reaction out of you, hoping this is for real and not just a game of chicken that flirty friends might play. You clear your throat and smirk, "Well. I guess I did say make it interesting, now didn't I?"

“Right, right.” He nods... “so you definitely wanted to hear about how I’d kiss down your body, paying attention to your neck and nipples because I know you like that. Maybe a couple hickies? Then your thighs would just be covered in marks...” he watches you shift, “should I go on?” He smirks

You love that smirk and you hate that smirk. That smirk that lets him get away with anything but also let's on that he knows he can get away with anything. You wish your breathing hadn't become so shallow as you lean in and say in a much lower voice than anticipated, "You know... I'm realizing I've never been a big fan of stories." You lightly drag your finger down his chest, stopping to trace over his many tattoos. "Always preferred 'show' over 'tell', you know?"

“I think I know that about you.” He pushes your hair off your shoulder and pulls you closer, pressing his lips to your neck, he feels your body tense for a moment as he presses another to your cheek. “This ok?” He checks.

You exhale loudly, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. You smile faintly at him, the flirty confidence you'd been hiding behind finally slipping. "Yes..." You answer, running your hand down his sweetly concerned face, enjoying the roughness of his stubbly cheeks. "More than ok. I've just... I've been wanting this." You hook your fingers under his chin and bring his face to yours, fitting your lips against his before he can respond to your confession.

Cal grins into the kiss; happy to have the permission. The kiss is needy, he’s nipping at your bottom lip, sucking it, and then he’s moving his lips back to your neck, pulling you against him, grabbing your ass to pull you closer. He pushes you over onto your back as he starts to kiss down your body.

Your fingers instantly thread thru his hair as you watch him move down the bed, pressing his lips to your skin any and everywhere he sees fit. You gasp as he palms over your right breast, loudly sucking a mark just below it. "You don't waste any time, do you, Cal?" You comment shakily, closing your eyes.

“Well... I’ve been wanting it, too.” He smirks at you. “So pretty.” His tongue pokes out, teasing your nipple. “Wondering how you taste, how you sound.”

You inadvertently let out a yelp when the chilly air of the room hits your skin dampened by his kisses at the exact moment he says the word "sound." You both chuckle warmly at the coincidence and for a second, you forget that this is not normal, that this is uncharted territory. You remember that it's just Cal. His mouth closing in on your other nipple yanks you out of your thoughts and you relax into the feeling, murmuring "That's nice, Cal" because you know he likes encouragement.

Cal kisses back up your body, pushing himself flush against you so you can feel that you’re getting him hard. He presses a couple sweet kisses to your cheeks before moving back down leaving open mouth kisses against your thighs, marks and nips decorating your skin

Cal hooks his fingers in your panties and gently pulls them off. He notices your breath catches as you feel him between your legs and he looks up at you, eyes meeting yours to check in once more. You bite your lip and nod. Satisfied with this exchange, he wraps his arms around your thighs, bringing you closer to him and his tongue darts out to lick a stripe down your center.

Cal hums against you as he slowly licks over your clit, “so worked up.” He grins at you. “Can you turn the lamp on? Wanna see you.”

You snort at his request but oblige him, making a big show out of extending your body up and over to reach the bedside table. "Not exactly the type of stretch I've been hoping for tonight, Hood," you tease.

He cocks an eyebrow, licking into you, staring you down. He presses his thumb to your clit, “you want stretch, darlin? I’m sure I can make that happen for you.”

He circles your clit with his thumb a few times before attaching his lips to it. He continues to eat you at a torturously slow pace and you groan, bucking your hips against his face, resulting in him murmuring an unintelligible protest against your pussy and reaching out to steady your wild hips.

“Acting like no ones touched you in months.” He teases. “Fuck, youre delicious.” He rests his head against your thigh and flicks his tongue over and over your clit, moaning. He flicks his eyes up to you to see your face

He sees your lips are moving but no words are coming out. He smiles to himself as he asks a question he feels he probably already knows the answer to, "You ready to cum for me, darlin?"

Your fingers tangle in his hair and he buries his face back against your core, licking, sucking, nipping on the super sensitive flesh, listening to your moans and rambling

He hears you find your voice just enough to get out a strained "Jesus, Cal" and then feels your body finally tense and relax beneath him. He laps at you a few more times before you're pushing him away. He presses a kiss to each of your inner thighs and then raises himself over you, to kiss you, tongue moving against yours with grace, offering you a taste of your arousal, taking away the breath you had barely just caught after your orgasm.

“Was it everything you’ve wanted?” He teases, against your mouth. He drops his hips against yours, needing you to feel him. You pull out the kiss and Cal immediately goes back to kissing your neck, “it was more than I thought, you sound better than I could have imagined. Better than I’ve thought about when jerking off.” He admits.

You press a small kiss to his shoulder and decide you can't get him close enough so you run your hands down his back, drawing him near, "Can't say I was disappointed." You roll your hips against his, eliciting the type of sharp groan you were hoping you'd receive. "But tell me, what else have you thought about?" You reach between you and find his hard cock between your bodies and give it a light squeeze thru his boxers.

“What haven’t I thought about?” He chuckles, gripping you and flipping you so you’re on top, “this has crossed my mind a lot. Bet you look so pretty when you’re riding cock.” He hums, “think about your lips wrapped around me.”

You lean over him and trail short wet kisses all over his chest, "Oh yeah? Reckon I'd look pretty good with your cock in my mouth?" You tease

“I’d be willing to bet on it.” He winks. “Should we find out? Or are you wanting more.”

You both grin at each other like fools as you work together to get his underwear off. You figure you've both waited long enough for this and waste no time licking up the sides of his cock before taking as much of it as you can into your mouth

“No what the fuck.” He breathes

You pull off of him as quickly as you took him in and chuckle, "Thought you said you thought about this a lot, is this not what you expected?" You smile at him playfully while you give his cock a few gentle strokes. You lean down to roll your tongue briskly over the head before wrapping your lips around it and gently begin to suck.

“No, this is perfect, baby, thank you.” He groans, wrapping his hand in your hair. He moans as you work his cock up and down, flicking your tongue over the tip before licking down his shaft to suck on his balls, drawing out a low groan. “Baby, want you on my cock, please.”

You react audibly to his words and lazily drag your lips across his cock and chest as you make your way back up his body. You lay next to him and he wraps a hand around your neck, pulling you to his lips, murmuring nonsense against them. You pull back and kiss along his jaw because you've always wanted to do that and now you can, "How do you want me?"

“Be a good girl and ride me for a little, yeah?” He asks. “Just wanna see you on top of me for a bit, and then maybe I can get it from behind.” He murmurs, holding your neck tight.

Just the thought of Cal bending you over like you've always imagined has you feeling weak and your eyes fluttering shut, "That... sounds like a fantastic plan." You peck at his lips a few times more and sit up, "So tell me, does a stud like you keep condoms with you at all times or are we going with the honor system here? I'm on the pill and like, I know you so I'm fine either way..."

He hmmms... “I didn’t assume to bring any... like don’t get me wrong, I would have thought too if I thought this was possible. But I can be a responsible adult and wait, as much as I don’t really want to…”

Of all of the unexpected events of the day, hands down the most surprising for Cal has to be seeing the wide smile that spreads across your face. Before he can ask you about it, you're capturing his lips in yours again, "Good boy," you beam and then bound off the bed into the living room. He's confused until he sees you rushing back into the bedroom, digging thru your purse. "You know, I've always wondered what your move would be in this situation, although I appreciate you not assuming anything," you triumphantly toss a shiny packet at him on the bed. He raises an eyebrow at you as you toss your bag aside and climb back on the bed. "Don't flatter yourself, Cal, it's not specifically for you, I just like to be prepared," you tease.

“Oh yeah? Just gonna fuck a random mountain man then?” He quips with a soft smile to let you know he’s joking.

"I didn't take you for a role playing guy, but if that's what you're into, I'm down"

“No no, if we're gonna do this, we’re gonna do this as ourselves. I don’t wanna pretend I wouldn’t have you if you weren’t you.” He admits. 

“Another point for Hood.” You grin. “Now, are you gonna put that condom on or do you need a hand?”

"I'm never gonna say no to you putting your hands on me," he taps the bed next to him, indicating you should come closer. He rubs over the top of your thigh as you tear open the wrapper and give his cock a few firm tugs before you roll the condom onto him.

Cal grabs for your hips, sitting up for a kiss and to guide you over him. He grabs his cock in one hand and slicks it through your folds. “Think you’re ready?” He checks, “it feels like you’re ready.“ he murmurs

"You have no idea how ready," you groan and begin to sink yourself down onto him.

Cal groans from the sudden delicious change of your body on top of him and you wrapping around him “can’t believe we’re finally doing this, you feel amazing.” He admits, laying back. “Show me how you like it gorgeous.” 

And you can’t help but love all the affection and terms of endearment he’s showering you with.

You take his hands from off your hips and place them on your tits. He takes the hint and begins playing with them and then you're rolling your hips, trying to find a rhythm that satisfies you both. "Fill me even better than I thought you would," you tell him.

“Oh? So you’ve been thinking about my dick?” Cal gets cocky, and he grins. “You can take it slow, I wanna enjoy you on top of me, I can rail you in a bit.”

Calum lands a hard smack to your ass.

You roll your eyes, partly at his smug demeanor and partly at how much it turns you on. "You want slow, Cal?" You lean back, bracing your hands on his legs. You raise your hips until his cock is nearly all the way out of you and then slowly lower yourself to take him all in again. You repeat this slow dance again and again and the way Cal is gripping your hips along with the soft curses slipping from him tells you the sensation -not to mention the sight- is driving him wild. "This more what you had in mind?"

“Exactly.” He confirms, slowly moving his hands across your skin, up over your breasts, tweaking your nipples, lightly holding your neck, and down back over your thighs, he might be in you but he wants to make sure you feel him all over your body. He bites his lip watching you, “feels so good, pretty girl.” He praises. “You let me know when you’re ready to switch.” He lets his thumb linger over your clit, pressing soft circles over it.

"Ah... that's so good, keep doing that." You moan contentedly and lean into his touch, bouncing on his cock just a little more aggressively. "Love this but honestly just about ready for you to wreck me"

“Happy to.” He guides you off of him by your hips, “let’s get ass in the air.” He directs. He watches you turn over and settle on your hands and knees, wiggling your ass. He can’t help himself as he leans in to slick his tongue through your folds another time, listening to your breath hitch at his unexpected action. “So good,” he murmurs as he kisses the back of your thigh and up to your lower back. “Nothing’s gonna beat the view of you on top of me, but...” he lines up and sinks in, “fuck you feel good.” He makes quick work of upping the rhythm since you’re already so wet for him.

He moves his hips against you, hands alternating between grabbing at your ass and holding on to your hips for leverage. You can't believe how good he feels from this angle and you want to tell him but all that comes out is a series of whines. He seems to get the message, though, since he responds with "Feelin good, pretty girl?" and a loud slap to your ass as he drives himself in deeper.

Your arms give as you drop your face to the bed, chanting and whining his name. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” He teases, rubbing a hand over the newly smacked flesh, landing another one, he grins at your little yelp. “Taking it so well.” He groans. And then it’s just skin on skin and the moans filling the bedroom.

You can't help but move your hips back against him as you feel yourself nearing your end. "Fuck, gorgeous, get what you need," his encouragement sending you over the edge. He slows down, letting you ride out the orgasm at your own pace, groaning at your satisfied sounds and the feeling of you pulsing around him. Once he feels your body relax, he gently alters his rhythm once more, searching for his own release.

He grins, still watching you while chasing his orgasm, your body still moves for him, he’s watching the nothing fall out of your moving lips, your fingers curl into the sheets, it’s when you finally find your voice to say “cum for me cal” that he loses it, holding his hips tight against yours as he spills into the condom.

Cal stays buried in you for a few beats longer, hands absentmindedly rubbing over your ass as he catches his breath. He gives one last "Fuckin hell," under his breath as he eases himself out of you, you murmur in blissful agreement. You feel him affectionately run his hand down your spine and leave a small kiss on the back of your neck before the weight on the bed shifts as he gets up to dispose of the condom.

When he comes back, you exhaustedly cuddle against his chest. He kisses the top of your head and listens as you fall asleep. “Guess we’ll talk about us in the morning.” He whispers, kissing your head again. 

You’re both awoken by your ringing cell phone, cal is wrapped tightly around you, and you have to fight your way out of his arms to go answer it. 

His eyes are barely open as you climb back in bed with him, he scoops his arm around you and pulls you in. “My suitcase came in this morning, they are going to bring it here.” He grin. 

“That’s good, but I was liking you in my hoodie.” He murmurs, eyes closing again. 

“Know you wanna go back to sleep Cal, but, can we talk?” You ask and watch as he nods, “about last night… I want you to know that I hope it’s not just a one time thing.” 

“Could be a two time thing,” he murmurs, pushing his hand between your thighs and kissing your cheek, “are you thinking something else?” He checks, as you push against his chest. 

“I was thinking maybe like… we try… us.” You admit, “if you want to, no pressure.” You quickly sputter out. 

“Of course I want to.” He sighs. “Just wasn’t ever sure you wanted that.” 

“I do, I want that.” You kiss his nose, “so let’s try.”

Tag list: @cocktail-calum​ @1dthewantedlove​ @youngblood199456​ @lustingforwunder​ @calumsphile​ @neso-k​ @rosecoloredash​ @radmcqueen​ @justayoungandwisefangirl​ @itsnotmyblood​  @lietoash​ @pushthetide21​ @5sosfanficrec​ @therealmrshale​ @fallfrxmgrace​ @lukashemmos​ @justarandomgirlthatyoudontknow​ @5sos-microwave​ @madbomb​ @sweetheartmendes1000​ @literally-anythin​ @lfwallscouldtalk​ @clemmingstylins0n​ @ccnicole02​ @lustingfor5sos​ @buteverythingiscopacetic​ @rosesfromcth​ @bodaciousbonzi1996​ @ashtontotheirwin​ @captainam-erika-trash​ @xxgendurvikixx​ @jazzyangel242​ @bluebabycal​ @rhiannonmichellee​ @iovehemmings​ @glitterycalum1205​ @katcontreras​ @cashtonasfuck​ @ificanthaveu​ @kindahoping4forever​ @here-for-the-uproars​ @canterburyfiction​ @opheliaaurora​  @queer-5sos​ @banditocth​ @gigglyirwin​  @glitterycalum1205​ @rebelwith0utacause​  @inlovehoodx

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[forasecondtherewedwon]

They’re Sayin’ (You’re Gonna Be My Man)

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 2217

Summary: Sam calls Bucky too soon after he's left Louisiana, looking for advice he doesn’t really need and getting a conversation he didn’t really expect.

Sam’s supposed to wait until news of the Flag-Smashers’ movements comes down the line to get in touch with Bucky. He doesn’t. It’s sooner. It’s almost right away.

He’s sure Bucky’s gotta be out of the state, but he doesn’t know whether he’s made it back to this alleged apartment in Brooklyn (on some level, Sam’s aware that he keeps making jokes about the conspiracy of the apartment’s existence because it’s his way of daring Bucky to invite him over sometime). When he calls Bucky up, he knows he might catch him on a plane, in a cab, with a buzz of voices around him as he scowls at strangers in an airport or stomps down a sidewalk. But, other than Bucky’s voice on the other end, Sam just hears quiet, so he figures the guy made it home.

“You never told me if you had any tips,” Sam accuses straight off.

Shifting his feet, he tamps down more of the grass he’s been practicing on, squinting when sweat rolls into his eye. He just finished a brisk mile with the shield on his arm, getting used to the weight and the bulk of it, and he’s ready to start throwing again.

“Tips for what?” Bucky asks. “Fixing the boat? General life stuff? I know we had a good talk, but I think I take advice better than I give it.”

“Which is not saying much,” Sam points out with a laugh. “You suck at taking advice.”

“Until recently.”

“Until recently,” Sam allows. He takes a deep breath and leans over to the side, stretching from his run and tapping his hand on the Vibranium disc currently propped against his leg. “Nah, man, for the shield. How to throw it, how to catch it, how to pull off some of Steve’s fuckin’ boomerang tricks.”

“I thought you were gettin’ the hang of it,” Bucky says in his ear.

“I am. I just realized that, when I had you here, you did a lot of standing around and catching the shield on that cyborg arm of yours. Not a lot of active advice-giving.”

“You really want me telling you how to do your job?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, nobody said that. I am simply aware of the fact that you’re one of very few people alive who’ve handled this thing, and maybe the only one who did it with any actual competence.”

“The level of flattery is astounding,” Bucky says dryly.

“You want more, you gotta help me out,” Sam jokes back.

“Well, show me what you’re doin’.”

Sam glances around himself. Flat lawn. Waning daylight. Tall trees wrapped in the pads he’s been ricocheting the shield off of. No place good to prop his phone.

“I gotta get somebody to film me,” he realizes. “Lemme call you back.”

“Everybody’s gonna be filming you with the shield pretty soon. Only question is whether you’re doing something impressive in news footage or looking like a jackass in some kind of Avengers’ Greatest Fuckups reel.”

“Shut the hell up. I thought we were gettin’ along now.”

“Just trying to be motivational. Am I not doing it right?”

“I think you better look up the word ‘motivational’ in the dictionary while you wait for my call,” Sam suggests.

He disconnects and hangs his head, shaking it even as he smiles.

His legs are screaming for a thorough, post-workout stretch and maybe some ice on his shins—they’ve been taking the brunt every time he digs his feet into the ground and braces to snatch the returning shield from the air—but what’s another quarter mile? Sam runs to Sarah’s, arms pumping, stride a little different now that he has to accommodate the shape of the shield.

When he gets there, the boys are playing soccer on the lawn and he calls through the screen window to the kitchen to get his sister’s ok to borrow them as his training assistants. They get even more excited by the bestowing of this title and its implied responsibility than by the sight of the shield. That’s pretty incredible. Sarah caves to a temporary borrowing (supper’s almost ready) and they’re off.

On the way back, Sam lets AJ carry the shield. Seems like a nice break for himself until Cass requests a piggyback.

“Alright,” Sam agrees with a sigh, crouching in front of his nephew. “Hop on.”

Captain America’s benevolence is limitless. At least, it is this evening. When his back’s killing him tomorrow from absorbing the shock of a hundred shield throws, he will not be so easily persuaded into giving piggybacks.

In the clearing, Sam pulls his phone from the zipped pocket of his shorts and videocalls Bucky, who picks up on the first ring. His face is too close to the camera, but it’s good to see those blue eyes and the crinkles that are either there because he’s smiling in greeting or he’s confused about how a videocall works. In a few seconds, Bucky figures out for himself that he needs to hold the phone farther away. It makes Sam miss him. Also makes him a little worried because he can see the blank, white wall of Bucky’s apartment around his head. No paint, no art. Sam can’t even hear a TV or anything in the background.

“You’re not busy,” he observes.

“Not really, no,” Bucky admits.

“You coulda stayed here longer.”

“Nah, you needed time with everything, not me constantly looking over your shoulder. Shield’s yours now, Sam. I’m gonna be at your side, but you and the shield… I got no say in what that relationship is. I understand that now and I’m trying to respect it.”

“So when you’re actually doing the right thing, let you back off?”

“That’s right,” Bucky agrees.

“I’ll try to remember in case it ever happens again.”

Before Bucky can defend himself against Sam’s teasing jab, Sam passes the phone to AJ, camera turned so Bucky will still be focused on him when he starts throwing the shield again.

“Got you propped up on my human tripod,” he informs Bucky, reaching above the phone to playfully shove the side of AJ’s head. “So watch your mouth.”

“Can I say hi?”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Sam warns.

And, of course, Bucky eggs the kids into a long ooooh, like they’ve caught him breaking his own rule. Which they have. But Bucky was being a smartass and the opportunity to let him know is not something Sam likes to pass up.

He’s stretching now—maybe for himself, maybe for the camera pointed his way—gripping his ankles in turn and holding his heels to his ass until he feels the pull in his thighs. Bucky’s not wrong about having this time to himself. Just him and this legendary object that’s feeling more right on his arm every time he slips it through the straps. Still, he misses what they had going the last two days. Not him and the shield, but him and Bucky. Having him here like that… It was different from every other experience Sam’s had with him. Bucky was still, in turns, a grouch and a showoff and a staring machine and a shithead (flirting with Sarah, come ON), but he was also more convincingly a person than Sam’s had the pleasure of seeing him before. At ease and multi-faceted by nature instead of the necessity of adapting in the face of a threat.

Bucky smiled.

They didn’t always bicker.

He looked damn good in the morning when they leaned against the kitchen counter, not talking, sipping their coffee.

Sam wants those minutes back so bad. Living with Bucky here was incomparable to living with him overseas. Lotta reasons for that, including not having to share the space with Baron Zemo. Mostly because this is home and Sam liked pretending, while Sarah did some well-deserved sleeping in and the boys got the hems of their pajama pants wet in the dew in the backyard, that it was real. That this breath between their fights (no longer with each other) could last and that this is where they’d hold it. It could be their kitchen, their mugs, their tousled sheets Bucky’d climbed out of, looking all rumpled and lovely and shit.

But Bucky doesn’t know what Sam pretends and Sam sure as hell isn’t going to tell him. He’s just going to keep faithful to their usual dynamic, trying for less glaring. Not a word to unsettle things, as much as he’s curious how they might handle things being unsettled. As much as his mind plays back the blinding glint off the water as they rolled up their sleeves and went to work together in a way more meaningful, more personal, than they ever have before. Plays it back all the time.

No. Quiet. Sam needs to figure himself out first and knows Bucky’s working on doing the same. Maybe sometime—but probably never—they can see how those selves overlap. All they need to make fly right now is being Captain America and… what’d that moron call himself? The White Wolf? Son of a biscuit…

“Let me see him!” Cass says excitedly, recapturing Sam’s focus.

It’s his brother he’s talking to and Sam watches fondly as AJ turns the phone to show Bucky a grinning Cass, being careful to keep it steady. Pretty damn sweet. Cass even waves while Sam stands there, watching and doing shoulder rolls.

“Hi, Uncle Bucky!”

Sam feels like he just whipped the shield out and caught the return in his stomach. He strides over to the boys and AJ passes the phone back without being asked. He’s stifling giggles despite or because he senses that his little brother shouldn’t have said that.

“One minute,” Sam tells Bucky, hardly glancing at him because he just can’t. He tilts the camera towards the ground and raises expectant eyebrows at his grinning nephews. “Did somebody tell you to call him that?”

In unison, the boys go, “No, Uncle Sam,” which is suspiciously adorable. But they aren’t liars.

“Did you hear somebody call him that?”

AJ and Cass glance at each other and that’s enough for Sam. They won’t answer, so he knows it’s Sarah who’s made this joke, put this idea in the kids’ heads. They won’t give her up though, because they’re Wilsons and they’re loyal to their mother.

Sam turns the camera back on himself, unprepared for the upward tick at the corner of Bucky’s lips that make them even harder to look away from than usual.

“My sister must’ve—”

“I know,” Bucky interrupts.

“You know?”

“Yeah. Sarah called me that to my face.”

“She did what?”

Sarah having her joke is one thing, but saying it to Bucky takes things a little far, in Sam’s opinion. Bucky could think Sarah’s serious. He could think she’s saying that because Sam’s said something to her. Something about coffee and bedsheets and the sweet ache he felt in his chest when he saw Bucky’s smile in the golden light of dawn.

“Last night, before she put the boys to bed. You were in the shower, I think.” Bucky reaches up absentmindedly to run a hand over the top of his head; the flex of his bicep in the long-sleeved shirt he’s wearing and waiting for the end of this recollection are both torture for Sam. “They wanted to hang out with me, but Sarah said, ‘Uncle Bucky’s gotta get some sleep. You’ll see him tomorrow.’ Something like that.”

Now, when Sam’s truly learning the meaning of flabbergasted, Bucky’s mouth cracks into a wide, self-satisfied smile.

“You made that up,” Sam guesses helplessly.

“Nope.”

Sam knows that, with his nephews’ inability to lie and Sarah’s lifelong history of messing with him as evidence, but it would’ve been a convenient escape from the reality of his sister (and possibly the boys too) addressing Bucky as if he and Sam are together.

“Tell me you told my sister to drop the ‘Uncle.’”

Another thing Sam knows: that Bucky didn’t do that. Bucky seems happy to prove his fears correct; he shrugs.

“Sounded kinda nice,” Bucky defends. That makes Sam soften. He knows Bucky doesn’t have any living family, that he’s been struggling to allow himself to make friends. Maybe he just likes being told he belongs to them and that Sarah’s joke makes it effortless for him. Then, Bucky adds, “Pass me back to my nephews.”

Sam points a warning finger at him.

“Watch it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The crease between Bucky’s eyebrows deepens as Sam watches the pain in the ass pretend to be stern with him. “Just throw the damn shield. I thought you asked for my help.”

“I did.”

Releasing a cautious sigh, Sam hands the phone to AJ once more. The boy’s got his silliness under control and he accepts the job solemnly.

Sam’s two steps away, hefting the shield onto his arm, when he hears Bucky shout, “And my hand in marriage!”

The boys’ laughter has them rolling on the cool grass, the phone clutched in AJ’s grip, and by the time Sam wrestles it away from his nephew, the camera’s swung all over the place. Showing Bucky the sky, the dirt, some quality footage up AJ’s nose, and probably—almost definitely—the way his words made Sam smile.

[amazingmsme]

Lets See A Smile

AN: My first Hazbin fic! There’s not nearly enough fics for it so here I am! Had a blast writing it, hope y’all enjoy! Angel and Alastor have such a fun dynamic!

Angel sighed in relief as his shift finally came to an end. You'd think a hotel with virtually no patrons would make for an easy work day, but when one of those guests was none other than fucking Sir Pentious of all people, you might as well jump off the highest cliff in hell. He kicked open the door to the break room, eager to vent to his friends.

"You would not BELIEVE the day I had! Next time you need someone to deal with Sir Penis get someone else to do it 'cause there's no way I'm going back up there to pick up eggshells and 20 feet of snake skin," he exclaimed dramatically, eyes closed with an arm thrown over his face like a damsel. Alastor popped his head up from where he was laying on the couch.

"I will be sure to let Charlie know of your complaint," he said. Angel's eyes flew open as he pushed himself away from the wall. 

"What, you? Where's Charlie? Or Vaggie?" he asked, not too pleased to see the radio demon when he was expecting his gal pals.

"Don't you remember? Tonight is their anniversary!" Alastor said in a cheery tone. Angel crossed his first pair of arms and rested another hand on his hip.

"Oh yeah, forgot about that," he said dismissively. Alastor sat up fully now, resting his feet on the floor instead of taking up the whole couch. He tilted his head quizzically, taking in the other demon.

"What, you got some fuckin' problem?" Angel asked, noticing his intense stare. Alastor shook his head, looking away.

"Not at all Angel, but from the sounds of it, you do." Angel rolled his eyes.

"Yeah and he's on the third floor," he said with a huff. Alastor scooted over and patted the cushion next to him invitingly.

"Why don't you sit?" Angel's face lit up as he strolled over.

"Hey don't mind if I do," he said before plopping right in Alastor's lap. He blushed and faltered.

"Wha- Not on me!" he exclaimed and shoved him off. Angel Dust chuckled, settling into a proper seat.

"Sorry, you didn't specify," he smirked. Alastor glared at him with a small growl.

"You know damn well that's not what I meant." They fell into a slightly awkward silence. Alastor sat stiffly while Angel sprawled across the sofa, taking up most of the room and not seeming to care. Alastor liked to pride himself in his ability to read other people, and right now it was obvious that Angel was not himself. Oh sure he would try and act like his usual flamboyant and snarky self, but apparently their customer had really gotten under his skin. He didn't like seeing the other demon so upset. He tapped his fingers on his knees, letting out a low whistle that mixed with the smallest whine of microphone feedback.

"Soooo..." he started. Angel only raised a brow. "Would you care to talk about it?"

"Eh, not really. That slithery prick's already eaten up too much of my time," he dismissed. After a brief pause he let out a long suffering sigh, arching his back over the arm of the couch and just let himself hang there. This caused Alastor himself to sigh.

"Well you're obviously upset about it, and normally I'd dump you off on Charlie but she's not here right now, so you're stuck with me. And while I may not be very good at this, I would like to cheer you up. Is there, um, anything I could do to maybe help?" Angel raised himself up, a little skeptical.

"You serious?"

"Yes! After all you're never fully dressed without a smile! And you sir are lacking the appropriate attire," he justified.

"Yeah well, I'm a slut, so what do you expect?" he asked, though he allowed himself to relax a bit. "Can you, no ya know what, never mind," Angel stopped himself mid sentence. And was that a blush creeping up his face? Needless to say Alastor was intrigued.

"No do go on!" he encouraged. Angel waved a hand as if to brush him off.

"Naw you wouldn't like it."

"Nonsense! And if I don't like it, I'll just talk about it behind your back to Husk like a normal person," he admitted. Angel considered this and shrugged.

"Well at least you're honest. So, what I was gonna say was, uh, can I have a hug?" he asked sheepishly. He reached up and rubbed a hand behind his neck, "It's just I'm a little tired and upset, and I'm kinda used to it with Charlie around. Hehe, look at me, goin' soft..." he trailed off. Alastor- didn't really know what to say. So instead he just leaned back into the sofa and held out his arms. Angel broke into a shy grin and cuddled against him. Alastor rested his arms around him, not allowing himself to fully relax into the hug. Not yet at least. Affectionate touch was still kinda new for him. But he had to admit, it did feel nice. It gave him a warm kind of comfort he hadn't felt in forever, and he let himself sink into the feeling.

"Ya know what Al? You actually give pretty good hugs. Heh, better not let Charlie know, am I right?" he joked with a poke to his side. Alastor went completely rigid, his hold on Angel tightened ever so slightly. This didn't go unnoticed.

"Al, you okay there buddy? Didn't hurt ya, did I?" he asked. He doubted he could even hurt him if he tried, but he wanted to make sure.

"W-what? You hurt me? Oh please," he tried to play it off, hoping he would just drop it. But this is Angel Dust we're talking about, he's not one to simply "drop" things. Not to mention, he's had years of experience in his old line of work. He's learned all there is to know about the body and it's various reactions to touch. Which is why it only took him a second to figure out what had happened.

"If you're ticklish you coulda just said so, I woulda left you alone," he said casually. Alastor's jaw dropped in mild horror and shock, pushing the other demon away.

"I am no such thing!" he adamantly denied. Angel raised a brow, a sly smirk creeping onto his face.

"Oh please, big scary tough guy like you? Definitely ticklish," he said, watching Alastor's reactions from the corner of his eye. Despite his best efforts to keep it at bay, a blush rose to his cheeks. As Angel spoke, he let one of his hands wander closer to Alastor's side.

He was just about to snap at him, a sharp retort on the tip on his tongue, when Angel's hand connected with his side. He let out a startled noise, jerking away and snapped his head to look at Angel. The smile he gave the radio demon was completely predatory and feral. Alastor found himself scooting away.

"Now Angel, don't do anything you'll regret," he warned, but his voice wavered with nerves.

"Trust me, I ain't gonna regret this," he said, lunging forth and straddling a very shocked Alastor. He wasn't used to people not taking his threats seriously and was a bit stunned. He tried to grab Angel's hands to block him, but he countered by pinning his wrists with his first set of arms. He chuckled, wiggling his fingers above his stomach. Alastor struggled, trying to free himself.

"What's the matter? Forget I had these?" Angel asked. He emphasized his point by skittering his fingers all along his belly, making him burst into staticky giggles.

"Stohohop this ihihinstant!" Alastor demanded through his laughter. Angel Dust leaned forward, grinning widely. Alastor could see his own hysterical reflection shinning in Angel's eyes, so he looked away, too embarrassed to see the giggly mess he'd become.

"Nah, I don't really feel like it. Besides, I think this is the first time I've heard you laugh! I'm having way too much fun to stop!"

"Thahahat's nohot true! Ihihi laugh ahahall the time," he tried to speak through his manic giggles.

Angel shrugged, "Yeah but laughing at your own lame jokes don't count. Kinda pathetic actually." He added another pair of arms to the mix, reaching behind him to squeeze and scratch at his knees. Alastor drummed his legs on the couch, his laughter increasing in volume and pitch. Radio static mixed more frequently with his laugh, making Angel coo.

Dohohon't patronize mehehe!" Alastor cried.

"I'm not! But you gotta admit Al, your laugh is adorable," he teased, making his voice a higher pitch and using the same tone that he normally talks to Fat Nuggets with. He brought his third pair of arms up to squeeze at his sides, the second pair starting to crawl up his ribs as he sang.

"The itsy bitsy spider crawled up the water spout." Though he thought it to be impossible, Alastor's laughter increased even more. "Down, came the rain and washed the spider out." He raked his knuckles down his ribs, making him arch his back with a cackle. As he finished the nursery rhyme, he let his fingers walk back up his ribs before attacking his exposed underarms.

Alastor squealed before his voice faded into the high pitched screech of a microphone. Angel jerked back in shock at the loud noise, covering his ears as he fell back on the couch. His eyes were squeezed shut as he fell into a giggle fit, clutching his stomach with his many arms. He brought a hand up to wipe away a few tears as Alastor recovered.

His breathing was already beginning to return to normal, but his face was still a burning crimson. Angel patted his leg comfortingly before he rose from the couch, stretching as he spoke.

"Oh man, that was fun. Never knew ya could laugh like that Smiles," he said, settling back onto the cushions. Because he was so tall, Alastor was taking up most of the space, causing Angel to huff and kick his legs with his boot. "Skooch over, you're takin' up the whole damn couch," he grumbled. Alastor finally sat up, seemingly recovered. His cheeks were still sporting a decent flush and he brushed himself off, trying to scrap together his remaining dignity by straightening his crumpled clothes. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"You have ten seconds," he stated calmly. Angel raised a brow.

"Ten seconds to do what?" he asked.

"Why, to run of course," Alastor stated as though it were obvious.

"Hell no, I ain't runnin'! I just got comfy," he said, gesturing to his already lounging position. Alastor shrugged, his residual smile widening into something more sinister.

"Very well, it is your funeral after all." Angel's eyebrows furrowed together, beginning to connect the dots. He opened his mouth to protest, only to be cut off.

"Nine."

Angel's eyes widened and he scrambled to get as far away from the radio demon as possible. In such a rush, his legs got tangled and he stumbled over himself before rushing out the door. Alastor was already down to six. He rushed down the hall and into the lobby, looking for cover. There was no way he could out run him, so his only chance was to hide. He only hesitated for a second before his eyes landed on the bar and he sprinted towards it.

Husk saw him coming and shook his head. "Oh hell no, you already used up all your points," he said casually. He jumped back with a hiss, fur standing on end when Angel made a move to dive over the bar.

"This ain't about that, you gotta hide me!" he pleaded, gripping onto his shirt. Husk shoved him off.

"What the hell did you get into now?" he asked, running a hand down his tired face.

"No time to explain, just go on about your business and act like I ain't here," he said, crouching down underneath the bar. "Oh and if Al asks, say you haven't seen me."

Husker's eyes widened, shaking his head. "Sorry, but I'm not covering for you. This is your mess, you deal with it. I don't wanna get caught in the cross hairs of whatever you did to piss him off," he said, trying to drag Angel Dust out from underneath the countertop. Angel cursed as he struggled to stay put, already forced halfway out. It was then that Alastor himself leisurely strolled into the lobby. His eyes fell on Angel, and he twirled his microphone stand gleefully.

"Oh Angel there you are!" he exclaimed. Angel let out a small scream before leaping back over the bar, much to Husk's annoyance. As he ran out of the room, he used two hands to flip Husk off.

"Wow thanks for bein' fucking useless!"

Husk cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled after him. "I'll be sure to remember that next time you ask for a drink!" He sighed in defeat, bending down to arrange the various glasses and bottles he had knocked over. Alastor came up and leaned against the bar.

"I'll take a glass of water real quick, if you don't mind," he said. Husk complied, filling it up with tap before sliding it over to him.

"The hell he do to you? Kid was so desperate to get away you'd think he was fleeing for his life." Upon hearing the question, Al's ear twitched, another blush dusting his cheeks as he looked away. Husk looked him up and down and spoke once more. "Then again maybe he is."

"Mm. If you'll excuse me Husker, I believe I must enact some well deserved revenge." The bar tender chuckled.

"Alright, but don't rough him up too much. Charlie'll have your head if you hurt him."

Alastor waved a hand lazily as he made his way in the direction that Angel ran off. "No need to worry, our friend shall be in good hands." He sent his shadow in search of the fleeing man, rolling up his sleeves in preparation. In his time alive, one of the things he adored most was the thrill of the chase. The adrenaline rush that came with hunting down his prey was nearly more enjoyable than the act of killing. Almost. But oh how he relished in the fear glistening in their eyes and their labored breath as they were inevitably trapped, watching as he closed in. He found he was eager to see that look in Angel's eyes, though for a completely different reason.

Angel was close to his room now. He had had a few close calls, turning down halls that suddenly lead to nowhere, catching the glimpse of a dark shadow from the corner of his eye. He knew Al was fucking with him, but he was determined to make it to safety. He was almost there; he could see his door at the end of the hall. He ran that much harder, only to find he wasn't getting any closer. He looked down at his legs that were running in place and felt dread sink to the bottom of his stomach. He heard a deep, staticky chuckle from behind and gasped, trying with all his might to get to his room.

"Oh c'mon!" he yelled out in an exasperated tone, looking over his shoulder only to see the grinning deer. He gave a small wave, tilting his head to the side. Whatever magic Alastor had him trapped with vanished, and he let out a victory cry as he threw himself at his door, opening it before slamming it shut and locking it behind him. He let out a deep sigh of relief, shoulders slacking as he leaned against the door. The wood felt cool against his cheek, and he smiled to himself, finally knowing he was safe.

A slow clap sounded from behind him, and his breath hitched and caught in his throat. He whirled around to see Alastor, sitting on his bed with a stupidly smug grin as he applauded.

"Splendid! You put on quite a good show I must say, but I'm afraid the previews are over." Angel reached for the knob, only it was locked by his own doing. He pressed his back against the wall, smiling sheepishly as the man stood and slowly made his way closer to him.

"Look, A-Al, no hard feelings, right? I won't tell a soul I swear! You got my word, I'm sorry," he tried to plead.

"Did you really think I'd let you get away without having my revenge?" he asked calmly. Angel shrugged.

"Well I mean, yeah. I mean- I was hoping for it," he corrected himself, rubbing a hand behind his neck with a chuckle. Alastor snapped his fingers, opening a portal in the floor. All of a sudden, tentacles reached out and grabbed Angel and forced him onto the bed, pinning all of his limbs.

He blinked in shock before smirking. "Can't say this isn't what I'm used to. Been in worse bondage situations than this, let me tell ya," he mused, trying to mask his growing fear with his usual flirtations. Alastor sat next to him on the bed and he tried to squirm away, not getting very far. Angel shrunk in on himself, feeling very exposed underneath Alastor's gaze, and not in the way he would've liked. He gulped and spoke. "So uh, I normally ask this question with a lot more enthusiasm, but- what are you gonna do to me?" he ventured to question.

Alastor answered gladly. "I would've thought you were smart enough to know but clearly I overestimated you." Angel let out a cry of protest only to be cut off.

"I'm sure you know the phrase "an eye for an eye,"" he said, casting a sly look his way. That alone made Angel's chest shake as he fought to force down his chuckles. He tugged at his bonds but they held strong, not allowing any leeway.

"Ahahal I'm sorry! I won't do it again, promise!" Alastor smirked and rested a hand on his stomach. Angel jerked at the touch, barely holding back a squeal.

"Oh I know you won't, but I have to make sure the lesson is ingrained in your thick skull so you won't even think about trying it again." He looked down at him, smirk growing as he drummed his fingers along his stomach.

"Nohohooo," Angel whined through his giggles, trying to suck in his stomach to get away from the touch.

"Laughing so soon? Oh this is going to be fun," Alastor practically growled through static. "So, are you willing to speed things along and tell me your worst spots? Or are you going to do this the hard way?"

Angel was already in deep, he knew he shouldn't say it but the guy gift wrapped a perfect chance for a dirty joke and gave it to him on a silver platter. He couldn't help himself. "Oh you know I like it hard," he all but purred. Alastor's eye twitched and he flicked an ear. Angel's flirtatious smirk quickly fell flat as he saw his life flash before his eyes.

"Nonono wait I take it back-"

"Too late Angel. I'm delighted to say that you just dug your second grave." He dug his claws into his stomach, grin growing as he watched him writhe underneath his touch. Angel bit his lip, trying to contain his titters. Maybe if he held out long enough, Alastor would grow bored and give up. Angel always was a dreamer.

"Hm, I wouldn't have thought you of all people would play hard to get," Alastor mused. Angel screwed his eyes shut biting his lip so hard he began to taste blood. "But you'll crack sooner or later," he said. Angel was wearing a loose t-shirt, so it was easy for him to slip his hand underneath. The reaction was instantaneous; he burst into frantic cackles, tugging on his wrists weakly. Alastor gave him a lazy, nonchalant smile. "See, I knew you'd come around!"

"Nohoho you cahahan't do this to mehehe," he cried out.

"Oh but I can! In fact, I'm doing it right now!" he said with a flourish, followed by a laugh track that could barely be heard over Angel's mirth. He let out an annoyed huff when the baggy shirt slid back down over his stomach due to his squirming. "Why don't we get this out of the way?" he asked. Before Angel could question him, he snapped his fingers leaving Angel's chest bare.

"Hey that was my favorite shirt you asshole!" Alastor didn't dignify that with a response. Well, not a verbal one anyways. The thin pink line trailing the middle of his stomach caught his eye, placing a single finger on the pattern. "Whoa hey, if ya wanted me to take my shihirt off all ya hahad to do was ask nicelyyyy," his voice raised in pitch when Alastor pressed down ever so slightly. Fuck this wasn't good, his pattern was way more sensitive and he really didn't need Al of all people to figure that out.

"By now you should know that I don't ask nicely," he said, a completely sinister look in his eyes. He drug his finger up along the pink line, making Angel arch his back with a squeal, much to his delight. His finger made its way back down the same path, and Angel shook his head back and forth, squirming in the tentacles' hold.

"Nohohot thehehere," he pleaded. Alastor hummed in thought.

"You see, when you say that it really makes me want to focus all my efforts on this exact spot," he teased.

"Bihihite mehehe!" They both froze, Alastor's grin stretching across his entire face. Angel realized his mistake and even though he knew it was futile, he kicked his legs out for purchase so he could scoot away. Alastor moved to straddle his waist, leaning in closer as sharp teeth glistened. "A-Al Ihihi didn't mean it like that! Oh shit, you're not gonna eat me, are ya?" Nervousness gave way to fear as he had no chance to escape.

"Why, what an excellent idea Angel Dust! I am a cannibal after all." He lunged forth, head diving towards his stomach. Angel screamed in terror which soon gave way to hysterical screams of laughter as Alastor nibbled and nuzzled against his stomach.

"Fuhuhuhuck it tihihickles so damn muhuhuch!" he yelled, trying to curl in on himself, but Alastor's magic held firm. He rose his head back up from the fluff, sputtering before picking a few hairs from his mouth. Angel gasped for breath during the break he knew wouldn't last long.

Alastor wiped his tongue on his sleeve to rid his mouth of any excess fluff. "Suddenly I've lost my appetite!"

"Greheat, so can you lehehet me gohoho?" Angel asked, fearing the answer. Alastor tapped his chin in thought, studying his form before answering.

"I suppose I could, but there's one spot left I want to try," Alastor said, eyes falling on his exposed hollows. Angel followed his gaze, eyes going wide with realization as an excited sort of panic flooded his body. Giggles bubbled out of his mouth that was stretched in an anxious smile, gold tooth gleaming.

"No please, anywhere but there," Angel begged, his efforts to escape doubling but still yielding the same results. Alastor smirked as he rested his hands right below his second pair of arms. Just doing that made him jerk and let out a small squeal. Alastor tilted his head, a devious look on his face.

"Oh Angel, you don't really get a say in the matter," he said, and then he attacked. He was completely lost to his laughter as Alastor scratched and skittered in his underarms, switching rapidly between them all to keep him a jumpy hysterical mess. He drilled his thumbs into the fur and kneaded around the sensitive area. He had to hold back his own chuckles once Angel started hiccuping amongst his cries of laughter. He finally granted him mercy, snapping his fingers and releasing his hold on the other demon. He sat beside him as Angel's giggles trailed off, interrupted every once in a while by another hiccup. Alastor notes that he hadn't moved at all, arms still raised and laying on the bed.

Angel glared up at him. "Damn you, you fuckin' prick. You're a fucki- fucking monster," he said, having to restart the word when another embarrassing hiccup broke up his speech. Alastor just smirked, narrowing his eyes.

"A tickle monster," he felt the need to correct. Angel groaned, a bright blush growing on his face. He covered his face with his lower set of hands, hoping that Alastor would at least be nice enough not to comment on it. "I hope it goes without saying that none of what happened is to leave this room," he threatened in a nicer tone, though it was a threat none the less. Angel sat up, waving a hand at him.

"Yeah yeah, trust me I don't want anyone else to know." Angel perked up, head snapping to look at Alastor. "Hey what'd you do with my shirt?" Alastor pointed around a pile of clothes in the corner, the soft pink shirt laying on top. He walked over, slipping it over his head. He noticed him staring at him, a smug, knowing look on his face. Angel narrowed his eyes.

"What?"

Alastor glanced down at his nails nonchalantly. "Nothing, just noticed something rather peculiar."  Angel flopped onto his bed, making him bounce with the mattress.

"Mind sharin' with the class?" he asked, even though he had a feeling he would regret it.

"I don't recall hearing you tell me to stop," he said with a sly smile. The curious grin on Angel's face immediately disappeared, cheeks heating up. He refused to meet his eyes as he struggled for a comeback.

"I- you- well- how could I, I was laughin' too hard!" he justified.

"You didn't seem to have any trouble saying other things," he beamed, holding up a hand when Angel grabbed a pillow and started beating him with it.

"Shut the hell up!"

"You like it!"

"SHUT UP!"

Alastor's static filled chuckles rang through the air. He even had the audacity to pinch his cheek before standing. "Glad to see you're feeling better. Laughter is the best medicine after all," he said.

Angel crossed his lower pair of arms, trying to hide his smile behind his hand. "Heh, I guess so."

Alastor was at the door, hand on the knob before he looked over his shoulder at Angel Dust. "Don't be shy to come find me if you ever need any more cheering up," he teased with a wink. Angel's face was practically on fire, and for once he didn't have a witty comeback. Alastor gave an amused huff before closing the door, leaving Angel alone to think about all that just happened.

[redhawtriot]

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Sooo... I think It’s the size of my tag list that was fucking this chapter up so much! Every time I have more than my previous chapter had, this chapter deletes itself from my page/drafts! I’ve contacted Tumblr about it, but don’t cross ur finger’s on that one lol. I am sorry if you weren't able to make the list!

(If you beta read for me you could read the chapters up to an entire day ahead of every else tho! If ur interested in that, just inbox me!)

HnM

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Month 1, Month 2 , Month 3,

--Month 4--

‘SLAM!’

The front door crashed shut like ammunition through cannon fire. The sharp bang clapped and echoed throughout the small, otherwise quiet living space, and soon, three roommates filed out of their respective rooms. One by one, they inched out to get a glimpse of the oncoming storm: Hurricane Katsuki.

Denki warily removed his gaming headpiece as Bakugou whipped past his bedroom door, “Oh hey, Bakugou! You sure disappeared outta nowhere. We coulda used the backup in squads! Where’d ya go, man!?” 

The others listened carefully for the explosive blond’s answer, but got nothing short of an insult in return,

“None of your business, you damn idiots. GO DIE ALREADY!” and with that, Hurricane Katsuki simply slammed the door shut-- somehow even louder than before.

Kaminari, who had gotten the brunt of the explosion, was left wide eyed,

“Woah…”

Sero gave a low whistle as he shook his head at Bakugou’s shut door, “Looks like a wild Teenage Bakugou has entered the chat.”

Denki gave an abrupt, slightly uncomfortable chuckle at the remark, but soon gulped, giving his roommates a concerned gaze, “So… should we…” he trailed off.

Kirishima fervently nodded, stepping fully out into the hallway, “I’ll go check on him, guys.” He flexed before making his way to Bakugou’s room—a nervous habit he had picked up somewhere along the line to reassure himself before he dived headfirst into rough situations.

He looked back to his other two roommates one last time and threw a pleading glance as if to say “Wish me all of the luck” before giving a few slight knocks to the rage-secreting room, “Bakugou,” he called out, “You okay, buddy? I know that there is something up. There’s no point in hiding it…we can talk?”

No answer.

Kirishima gave a long sigh, “Well, when you finally want to talk about it, you know where to find me...” 

The other roommates sighed as well before both retreating to their rooms and shutting their doors. Kiri turned to make his way back to his room as well, but only made it a few feet before Bakugou’s door sharply yanked open a few inches.

“Where are those other idiots?” Bakugou’s eyes were redder than their usual vermilion as he glared out from the cracked doorway. Kirishima gave a thick blink in surprise. Had he… had he been crying?

“They back in their rooms?” Bakugou said very lowly. His voice had an extra hint of raspiness weighing it down, Kirishima noticed.

“Y-Yeah.” Eijirou quickly replied, startled by the unseemly sight of his best friend, “They’re prolly back on the game by now.” Bakugou did not say another word as he threw his door open a few more inches and marched deeper into his room to stiffly throw himself on the edge of his bed. Kirishima cautiously followed him-- this was as good of an invitation as any in ‘Bakugou language.’

Bakugou sat, glaring seriously at the floor in front of him, as if it offended him, and his leg bounced nervously. The red head uncomfortably cleared his throat. ‘Holy shit, what the hell is going on…?’  Kirishima had never seen him do that before, “You.. uh.. you wanna talk about it, buddy?”

No answer.

Kirishima waited a few beats before releasing another sigh and shutting the door behind him so that he could make his way to the bed. He sat down next to his best friend and simply sat deep in the silence with him. The two waited for what seemed like hours before someone finally spoke up,

“I got a girl pregnant,” Bakugou said very flatly, still glaring at the floor and bouncing his leg.

Kirshima had to stifle the choke that erupted out of his throat as his own saliva sneaked into his larynx, “Ack! Achkaka!” His natural bodily functions were completely forgotten as his brain tried to compute the sudden and drastic information that was just thrown at him.

Bakugou?? Pregnant? He never thought he would hear the words in the same room, let alone the same sentence! The guy hardly ever did anything but work, work out and come home to play video games. He didn’t converse with people. He didn’t get girls pregnant. Girls didn’t even look at him!

In his coughing fit, Kirishima’s speech was also forgone, “I-I- uh.. man that.. wow I…” he tripped and tumbled over his words. He was dreaming. He had to be. Well, either that or he had wandered into some strange episode of the Twilight Zone or something.

Bakugou’s glare at the floor intensified, “I thought she might not be so bad… but I didn’t want to be with her like this,” Kirishima’s eyes widened at the underlying tone of hurt buried under his friend's words, and then they widened even further once he realized what he just said.

Had Bakugou fallen for someone for the first time?? And then his eyes widened the furthest as things finally began to click within his confused mind.

He sucked into a sharp gasp, “You mean that model!?”

Bakugou simply scoffed, finally relieving his glare form the ground and focusing his hot gaze on Kirishima, “Yeah, turns out she’s actually a fucking bitch.”

Kirishima’s jaw dropped, “BAKUGOU! That’s the mother of your child! You shouldn’t—”

“She didn’t remember the night at all. I was just another fuck toy for her,”  Bakugou stood up and clenched his fists over and over again as if they itched to be slammed against something—tears welling up in his red-hot eyes, “Now tell me if the roles were reversed, how shitty it’d be then, huh?” Kirishima immediately shut his mouth from speaking up anymore as he allowed his friend to release his feelings. It wasn’t often that Bakugou built up enough to let things out this way.

Bakugou scoffed again as he began pacing the room, but Kirishima swore that it had the hint of a cry layered within it somewhere, “they might not even be mine since she likes that ‘fuck toy shit’ so much. That night meant nothing to her…” he threw his arm against the wall, effectively tearing a hole into it

Kirishima jumped a bit from the action as his mind briefly wandered to the security deposit on their lease. He pushed these thoughts away as Bakugou stiffly returned to the bed, his leg bouncing even more fervently than before.

Kirishima simply watched for a moment to allow his friend to simmer down before he spoke up very softly, “But you think it is yours though…”

Bakugou’s eyes snapped up to Kirishima’s, whose eyebrows were furrowed deeply into each other as he stared back.

In all his years of knowing Katsuki Bakugou, Kirishima would have never described his best friend with anything even resembling ‘gullible.’ His gut feeling and instinct were as sharp as ever and hardly ever wrong,

“Must be for a reason then…” he tried to look past the tears that filled up within his best friends eyes but they still left his heart feeling a little heavier than usual,  “If you think it’s yours then I’ll have your back no matter what buddy. You’re not alone in this.”

“They.”

“What…” Kirishima eyebrows folded toward the center of his expression.

“She’s having fucking twins.”

“Holy Sh…” Kirishima quickly swallowed his words as he took in the forlorn expression plastered onto his friend’s face. There was no room for him to be shocked right now. He had to be Bakuous ‘rock’ so to speak, “I-I mean congratulations!”

Meanwhile you found yourself studying the woman in the reflection of your mirror. Your eyes trailed every detail of her swollen, red eyes. Then to her hair that was fuller than you had remembered—the beauty of bottled color maybe? You danced over the way that loose strands stuck to the slimy mess of tears and mucosa that had accumulated on your cheeks.

Nasty.

A sharp chuckle came out of you, spittle following not too shortly after, but as it reached your ears it resembled more of a cry.

Okay, that’s enough self loathing for one lifetime.

And with that, you moved away from the mirror; however, as you did so, your sight basically smacked the open cabinet of liquor bottles that you were eyeing earlier.

Okay…. Maybe not quite enough self loathing. Your mouth began watering at the delectable sight. It was a desert after a delicious four course meal.  There was always room for more…

With a shake of your head, you brought your hand up to smack these thoughts out of your mind. What was wrong with you? You had been a lot of things in life, but were you really so low to bring yourself to effectively murdering your own children?

That’s what would happen if you drank, right?

You loudly groaned as more tears slipped from your eyes. You really didn’t know shit when it came to this pregnancy thing.

Your mind briefly wondered to Baby Notes Vol 1. You should probably take the time to actually read through it a little. Skimming it wouldn’t kill you.

Physically.

The sudden pounding at your door snapped you almost immediately out of your thoughts.

“Y/N?? Y/N, it’s me!”

With a final pathetic sigh you found yourself gathering up all the alcohol from the cabinets that you could into your arms and placing them in the bathtub before jotting over to the door.

As soon as you opened it Deku barged in and gripped you softly,  “I came as soon as you called! What’s up, what's wrong?! Are you okay??” His eyes frantically danced around your wet eyes and red sockets before he allowed them to roam all over you, checking for injury.

He wouldn’t ever think that Kacchan was the type of guy to put his hands on you, especially with how much he’s grown since high school, but the nagging voice in the back of Izuku’s mind fervently reminded him of all of the bruises and burns and numberless emotional scars he accumulated with he was quirkless from his childhood friend.

And here was a woman he deeply cared about-- quirkless—having to spend time alone with said childhood friend.

“What’s wrong??” Izuku found himself repeating as his hands mindlessly wiped the fluid from your cheeks. As soon as he committed the action, however, his face ran completely red and he quickly released you from his grip, so that he could get a grip of himself.

You didn’t notice his slip up, and if you did you sure as hell didn’t care at the moment. There were more pressing matters at hand. Two to be exact, “Twins,” you simply said to him as tears began flowing down your cheeks more furiously.

“Huh? Oh… Oh.” Izuku’s eyes went wide as your words sunk in. As soon as he threw you an obviously apologetic glance you threw yourself into his chest and sobbed throwing him a bit off guard as he barely caught you in his arms.

Izuku’s eyes nervously roamed around your home as if he were searching for the right thing to say to you, but as he made contact with an open pantry in your kitchen, his jaw dropped-- your alcohol pantry.

It was far less full than it had been the last time that he visited, “Y/N… What’s with the… have you been drinking?” he pulled you away from his chest and looked seriously into your eyes.

The sight honestly kind of scared you a little—like a 15-year-old being caught with their first beer-- that is, until you remembered that you were innocent as fuck, “No,” you gave a slight chuckle through your tears at the sudden surge of intimidation, “I need your help getting rid of it.”

You walked away from Izuku for a moment, leaving him confused and a bit wary of where this was going, until you returned with a hammer—leaving him even more concerned,

You were aiming for bad ass Harley Quinn vibes, but you were sure that with a dried trail of tears on your cheeks and the force smile splitting your face you came across like more of a psycho ass Harley Quinn. Furthermore, the look on Deku’s face screamed that you were correct (also it screamed ‘GET THIS GIRL IN A STRAIGHT JACKET!’).

“What are you gonna do with THAT?” Izuku squealed.

“I need to get my favorite bottles out of the house. Stat. and you're gonna help me.” At your words, Deku gave a gigantic sigh of relief, but still kept his eyes glued on the hammer in your hands. You noticed and shrugged a bit, “Smashing things is also really cathartic. I am sure you of all people can agree with that.”

“Heh… Yeah. But are you sure this is okay? I mean, I don't want to raise your blood pressure or anything because--”

“Deku. Less talk, more smash,” you threw a towel in your tub to make clean up a little easier, and so you didn't knock a chunk of tile on your bathtub. You gave Deku one last glance. He was still looking very uncertain, but you threw him a short smile before bringing the hammer down onto a bottle of tequila. The bottle instantly shattered, sending bits of glass throughout your tub. You looked up to give Deku an excited glance, and surprisingly, he returned one right back.

“See? Not so bad!” 

But you spoke too soon as the scent kicked you in the fucking nose. It was too far to turn back now. You choked down your nausea and handed Deku the Hammer, “You go ahead and get started. I’ll go get another weapon-- I mean… tool,” you corrected yourself after he sent you a terrified stare.

As you made your way back to the after grabbing your second weapon-- I mean tool a sudden thought crossed your mind. Without hesitation, you pulled your phone out and dialed in,

“Hello?”

“Yes. How may I help you today?” Dr. Yamakawa sounded from the other line.

“It’s Y/N…Y/N L/N…” you trailed off, hoping that you wouldn't have to say the ‘p word’ or anything relating to it.

His old ass better take the hint. To your dismay, his old ass did not take the hint, and a long pause of awkward silence filled the air.

You pursed your lips together in annoyance, “Mama Bakugou,” you clarified through gritted teeth, still dancing around the fact that you were a maternity patient of his.

“Ohhhhh!” He exclaimed, causing your face to fall into an expression of disappointment as he continued, “What can I do for you, Mama Bakugou?!”

This mf. You internally ground and fought the urge to facepalm, “Well. I need you to write a doctors note for me.”

“For…?”

“Work?”

“For your pregnancy? Dear, why don’t you just take maternity leave for that?”

“No.” In the moment you shook your head even knowing that he couldn't see you,  “I need a few weeks more before I can tell my job about this… situation. I’m a model. They own me through a contract and I didn't exactly add two roommates to the lease on my body...”

There was a pause on the other line, causing your heart to lurch a bit, but things soon went back to normal when he finally spoke up, “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll email you something.”

You gave one final thanks (and an internal ‘yessss’) before making your way back to the bathroom, “Hey Deku, sorry it took me so long I was just--” you froze at the sight in front of you. The shirt that Izuku wore was completely drenched in liquid and your tub had a gigantic hole on the side.

Your lips fumbled over themselves as you gawked at the spectacle. Deku could only send you a nervous laugh,

“Uh, hahaaa… Can we be done now? This… this burns,” he rapidly blinked the liquid from his eyes as he glances back down to the lot of broken bottles in your tub before throwing your one more pleading glance.

You choked down a laugh, causing it to flee from you in the form of a snort, “Someone had some pent up aggression, huh?”

In response, his face delved into a deep shade of red, “I.. uh..” he had no idea how to answer you when you looked at him like that-- your lips curved into a stunning smirk of a smile. Izuku promptly cleared his throat, “C-can I take a shower?”

“Obviously not that one-- you're totally fixing that by the way Mr. Big Shot Hero,” with a laugh you swiftly made your way to him and carefully grabbed the hammer from his grasp, looking up to see his face dive even deeper into crismon. You flashed a smile at the display. He really was adorable as hell.

You took in his face bit by bit-- his soft, blushed skin, his freckles cheeks, his round eyes. As you digested his expression you swore you could see an entire forest within his stare. Suddenly your heart pinged.

“Uh, Y/N,” Izuku interrupted your thoughts, causing your heart to throb for a different reason as you suddenly realized the proximity of the two of you. You stepped back so fast that your head spun. At least, you hoped that was why your head was spinning,

“You can use my shower.” you said very abruptly as you turned away from him,gesturing him to follow you to your bedroom.

Your bedroom. Your hear throbbed once more. Deep down, you hoped that you were about to have a heart attack or something; however, something  within you told you that that probably was not the case. You swallowed hard.

What the fuck was happening?

‘KNOCK kNOCK KNOCK’

The next morning you found yourself stirring awake to a loud succession of banging. Your eyes fluttered open for a moment only before they snapped back shut. The magnet drawing them together and you closer to sleep was much stronger than whatever noise was trying to wake you up, “Mhmfmfm…” you muttered as you rolled over on the couch and pulled the blanket over your head.

Izuku, however, was not one to ignore such an obvious noise and he found himself trudging off of the other sofa he slept on to answer whoever was banging on the door.

‘KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!’

“Coming!” the green haired man tiredly called out as he launched himself toward the front door and swung it open.

The astounded face on the other side of the entrance soon mirrored his own.

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed.

Bakugou’s shocked expression very quickly contorted into one of pure rage, “What the hell is going on here?!” He screamed causing you to jolt awake as you threw the blanket over your head. You found yourself fumbling up as Bakugou continued to scream pointed to Deku, “The fuck is he here for??”

You made your way over to the two men- one seemingly terrified, and the other obviously enraged. As your head began lifting from the daze of sleep, you crossed your arms and glared at Bakugou, “He spent the night helping me with something,” you shook your head, trying to free yourself from the oncoming headache, “Hey, better question: why are you here?”

Bakugou seemed to swallow his own tongue as his jaw clenched shut, “I wanted to… uh…” he glared at the ground as he tried to find his next words. Shit. why was this so fucking hard? He should have never listened to that Shitty Hair and come over here. Bakugou scoffed to himself before redirecting his stern gaze back toward you, “Come with me.”

You could only blink.

What kind of caveman talk…You tilted your head as you fleetingly threw a confused glance toward Deku, who only shrugged in response.

Bakugou quickly grew tired of yours and Dekus silent conversation, “You wanna hang out or not??” he growled before throwing another heated finger toward Deku,  “And he can’t come.”

“I was just heading out anyways. It’s no big deal really!” Izuku defensively threw his hands up as if to show Bakugou that he was no threat at all. He went to gather a few of his belongings from the sofa he slept on before throwing Bakugou one more gaze-- this one a lot more astute.

A majority of Midoriya’s mind told him that there was nothing to worry about at all, but there was still a small section of him that couldn't shake the memories of how Bakugou treated him as a quirkless child. Izuku knew that he would never hurt you! But… just in case…

“You take care of her Kacchan,” the tone came off pleadingly but the look in his eyes was a  bit stern. You had never seen this portion of Deku before and it almost instantly caused your chest to thud, harshly reminding you of last night’s sensations. Shit.

“Don't tell me what the fuck to do, Deku. Those are my kids in there. Not yours. You just remember that,” Bakugou scoffed, causing Izuku’s expression to falter ever so slightly before he fixed it again.

Your jaw dropped at the sheer bluntness of his statement, “Kacchan, what the f--”

“I guess you’re right, Kacchan,” Izuku began, “Sorry if  I crossed a boundary,” he smiled at Bakugou-- who only huffed in return-- and quickly turned to you, making the tightness in your chest worse, “Bye, Y/N!” Izuku smiled, almost too innocently, considering the raging war in your gut at the moment.

You smiled back-- a feeble attempt at masking the inner turmoil ravaging your insides. “Peace, bb,” you gave him a weak hug before gesturing him out of your home. You threw him one final smile before shutting the door. You instantly whipped your head back around the the blonde brat behind you, “What. The. Fuck!?”

“I already told you. I want to hang out.”

“Are you fucking allergic to texting or some shit??” you yelled, “You just waltz in like you own the damn place and demand me to ‘Ohhh ahhh wo-man! come with me, wo-man’,” you renacthed his prehistoric behavior. 

Bakugou felt his muscles tighten in response to your taunting. Your loud nature, mixed with the confrontational behavior was reminding him way too much of his own mother. He swore on his life that he would never end up with  a woman like her and yet, here he was standing in front of her fucking carbon copy. The thought made him sick as he groaned in frustration,

“Shitty hair was fucking wrong!” Bakugou spat, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion as he continued, “The last thing I want to do is hang out with a bitching hag like you!!”

Your jaw dropped, “Excuse me??” You have heard pretty much every other insult in the book hurdled at you, but ‘hag’ was never one of them. You laughed, “I wasn’t a hag when you fucked me all night, huh?!”

“Yeah? I don't know what was wrong with me then. You are way different when I am not pumped full of alcohol, apparently.”

Your laughter immediately ceased, “Whatever. you came up to me and confessed your love like a raging SIMP, and now all of a sudden I’m a bitch?

“Fuck! Well, I got to know you past a pretty, stupid, fucking face!”

You blinked in shock. The unfamiliar feeling of your heart sinking into the pit of your stomach overwhelmed you as hurt surrounded your face. Practically your entire life, being beautiful has been a mask of sorts for your overwhelming failures. Still, here this man was-- practically a stranger-- seeing past your facade, looking directly into the steaming pile of shit that you truly were. Your eyes suddenly became warm as tears filled them,

“Then why the fuck are you even here, asshole?? TO PISS ME OFF?” you shouted, throwing your hands by your side and clenching them so tightly that your nails dug into your skin.

“BECAUSE  I WANTED TO KNOW ALL OF YOU!” he screamed back. The shocking words fled out from under his harsh tone and stunned you as your brain processed them. You felt your fist unfurl a bit as he continued, “I wanted to know you. Good and bad. Bitchy and not. You're carrying my children… I want to know them,” he finished, almost defeated. This tell of emotion was obviously the last thing he wanted to be doing, you could tell.

Still, it meant a  lot for some reason that he felt that he could do this with you “Oh,” you breath out, unable to articulate much else.

“Oh?!” he angrily repeated. Bakugou felt his face shrivel in disgust. He just poured out his being to you once more for you to trample on it like a fucking gymnast mat. However, as Bakugou formed his mouth to say something else, you halted him,

“Go… have a seat,” you gestured to the couch, blinking the accumulating liquid in your eyes away. The blond could only shoot a lone eyebrow up in response, causing you to sigh in exasperation,  “Well, Are you just gonna stand there looking like that, or what?” he gave you one final scoff before making his way to one of your couches and seating himself comfortably, propping one of his feet on your coffee table as he glared at the non functioning television.

“Welcome, I guess. I am sure you’ll have no issue making yourself comfortable,” you deadpanned, eyeing his propped up legs,  “I’ll go make us some… tea?” you suggested , but no answer came from him, “Tea it is.”

You rolled your eyes before trudging away. You always loved green tea, but for some reason the smell had been killing you lately, so you opted for peppermint tea instead. It was inferior by, far, but it matched the inferior, pathetic life that you had adopted recently.

Jeez. How much self deprecation can you fit into one week? Would this have any effect on the babies? If so, they’d probably come out singing RnB or some shit in the maternity ward. They’d have already stressed dyed hair and an entire Tumblr dedicated to sad aesthetics before they reached their first birthday, for god's sake.  

You vehemently shook your head to once again get rid of the oncoming headache that snuck in with these disgusting thoughts, “So Kacchan!” you called out as you walked back to the living room, “What do you wanna know?”

“Don’t call me that,” he simply barked.

“What?”

“Don’t call me that name. I fucking hate it.”

You snorted and took a seat next to his glaring figure. You tried not to notice how he shifted further away from you as you sat down, “I am sure Deku disliked being called worthless his whole life too,” you smirked up at him, “I bet he fucking hated it.”

The atmosphere seemed to once more shift into a much heavier tone after your statement and the room fell quiet for a few beats. Bakugou’s small glare morphed into a much more forced one. It was as if he was trying to use the glare to hide another feeling, you noticed.

Finally, he spoke, “How much do you know.”

You tilted your head into another shrug, “Enough to know that you probably hate the fact that I am quirkless.”

His face contorted into one of pure disgust as the glareful mask he wore faded away like yesterday’s lunch.  “I don’t give a fuck,” he argued, but the look you sent him showed no sign of believing it. Bakugou’s disgust deepened, but he made sure to control it enough to where you didn't know that it was directed towards himself.

“Oh really? Let’s see if you can keep that same energy when one of your kids pops out without that flashy quirk of yours,” Of course his face fell, just as you suspected it would. Just like it had for multiple other men you had told.

Most men’s pride utterly shrivels into dust as soon as the pretty girl in front of them-- the one that they fantasize about having a dream life with-- ends up telling them that they are quirkless. As soon as the words fall out of your mouth, the men's dreamy gaze effectively shatters alongside their hopes and dreams concerning you.

Nobody wants to pass weakness onto their children.

“You know what? I think I’ll go first,” you snapped him out of the uncomfortable, uncharacteristic silence, and he gave you an irritated, questioning glance, “You wanted to play 20 questions with me, or whatever. No limitations, okay? And I have the first question for you,” you explained before sending him a challenging gaze, “How could someone so full of hate truly aspire to be a hero?”

You expected him to blow up at you-- to scream, and yell and argue that you were wrong.

Yet.

The slightly apologetic, yet stern look on his face threw you for an absolute loop, “I wanted to win.” he simply answered. Somehow his matter of a factness was worse for you than any furious defensive scenario you had conjured in your mind, but as you went to open your mouth with a roll of your eyes, he halted you,

“That was when I was younger, “ he sharply clarified, “I wanted to win more than anything. To be better than everyone else—and that hasn’t changed but there's more to it now. I have to protect the people I care about—like my idiot roommates—I want to make sure we all come home safe by the end of the night.”

Once again he had thrown you off with a surprisingly normal non-caveman response, “That was actually…”

“My turn,” Bakugou abruptly cut you off, “How many men the you fuck this past few months?”

Your jaw dropped. 

And back to Neanderthal you mother fucking guess! “Are you fucking kiddin—”

“You said no limitations,” he gruffly stated.

You bit your tongue and shot him a glare that could match his own before giving a sharp sigh, “Four during the last year. You were the last and the only one during the month I… conceived,” you swallowed as the word left a bitter taste in your mouth, “My turn. What about you?”

“What.”

“How many women the past year?”

“Why the hell does it matter?” Bakugou argued. Your eyes shot down to his body as it shifted around even further from you. From his body language you could tell that his answer was sure to be outrageously high.

He was an extremely attractive guy after all. Those rippling arms were nothing to fuck around with. His red hot eyes could melt steel beams with a passing glance. The chisel of his permanently hardened expression could slice through even the most secured of panties. 

Yes. and there was no denying that he was a sex god in his own right.

It also didn't help that his temperament sucked, so you doubted he had had many long term relationships. He had all of the ingredients of a man whore stirring within him.

“I’m just curious,” you shrugged.

Bakugou threw his glare away from you for a moment as he contemplated on whether or not to answer your stupid question. He had his own questions to ask you still so he guessed that he didn't really have a choice if he wanted his answers,“...One.”

Your jaw dropped, “Seriously?” as his face fell into a furious shade of red you were smacked with a sudden realization,

“Kacchan, did you... lose your virginity to m...?” He glared even further away from you, but you could still see his ears falling even deeper into red-- effectively giving you your answer, “Oh my…” he trailed off. No wonder he was so fucking head over heels for you! Through your discomfort a horribly timed joke flew past your lips, 

“You knocked her up on the first try huh? You’ve got some super swimmers,” you half laughed, but Bakugou obviously didn't find anything funny about it as he snarled angrily as you,

“Shut up!” he barked, throwing a pillow at you, “My turn. What’s up with you and that shitty Deku?”

The pillow hit you, but it was really his question that had smacked you in the face. Your chest thudded, and you prayed to whoever was listening that he couldn't see the racing of your heart, “He’s just a friend! A really good friend to me. Probably my first actual friend ever,” you said this as a joke, but obviously forgot who you were talking to.

“You didn’t make any in high school?” Bakugou’s face twisted up disbelievingly.

“Never went. Couldn’t afford the tuition...” now it was you who was uncomfortably shifting from him. 

“Your parents didn’t help you out?”

“Slow down there, buckaroo,” you laughed, but his face remained as stern as ever as you continued, “That’s like three questions In a row for you. My turn.”

Luckily he caught the hint and didn't press upon the subject any further.

Through the night, you found out a lot of things about him. He was actually younger than you by a few years at twenty years old. His parents were both fashion designers (probably the biggest fucking shock to you considering his choice of black shirts and flannels) and that he was working on making his own hero agency since he had already climbed up the ranks in Japan.

Your game, however, was cut short by the growling of your stomach.

Bakugou almost immediately stood up, surprising you as he walked to your kitchen. Well, you did say ‘make yourself at home’ but this was a little upfront wasn't it? He soon yelled to you from the kitchen as you sat in shock still, “What do you have to eat in this shit hole?!”

Shit hole? You glance around at the decorations and clean atmosphere that you pride yourself on. That jerk. Your house was not a shit hole! “You can eat shit if you want. I’m not hungry.”

“The hell are you talking about? I just heard your stomach growling.”

You shrugged, “Just indigestion. I get a lot of stomach issues with these things inside of me,” the sudden clanging of pots and pan in your kitchen startled you,  “What the hell are you doing??” you called out before marching to your kitchen.

You found him rummaging through your cabinets, stopping momentarily to judgmentally eye your still plentiful liquor cabinet for a moment before moving on, “You can starve yourself all you fucking want, but you're not fucking starving my kids.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his accusation, “I’m not starving.”

“You think I’m fucking blind?”

“I have to stay in shape for work. Just like you I am sure,” you walked up to him and grabbed a bicep for demonstration, but he quickly threw your hand away from him as his face fell into a bout of shock. He quickly regained himself,

“Whatever,” he grunted before swinging open your refrigerator.

“What are y—Hey!” you yelped as he began haphazardly throwing food onto one of your counters.

“Is all you have in here rabbit food? Jesus fucking Christ,” he ignored your cries and began throwing certain items together and heating up a pot of water.

You couldn't help but blink at the display. He seemed pretty natural in the kitchen and that in itself was unnatural considering his caveman persona, “You... cook?” you felt uneasy.

“You don’t?”

Honestly, your diet consisted of salads and ramen since you were 15, so cooking wasn't a necessity. You reluctantly shook your head at him.

He looked completely disappointed and disgusted with you but, hey, what else is new? Bakugou scoffed, “Well you’re gonna have to learn how now. Pay attention.”

You rolled your eyes at him. If you wanted fucking Gordon Ramsey bitching you around in the kitchen you would have clicked on that stupid ad that always popped up on your Youtube. Then again, Bakugou was more of a Guy Fieri with that spiky hair of his.

Whatever.

You guessed learning how to cook one meal wouldn't be too terrible,  

“What are you stirring the water for if you didn’t put anything in it yet?”

“It helps it heat up faster, idiot.”

“Do you actually throw the noodles on the wall to see if they’re finished?”

Bakugou threw you a frown, “If you’re a fucking dumbass,” he said, moving you aside as he began stirring a saucer filled with vegetables. He completely disregarded your yelp as he moved you as a parade of thoughts bombarded his mind.

He would have to come over more and keep you and his kids fed if you truly didn’t know how to cook. He scoffed and his stirring hand more slightly more erratically with frustration. What kind of grown woman didn't know how to cook pasta?

His thoughts were halted by a loud squelch that sounded through the air. He immediately threw his gaze up to the wall in front of his face and his expression fell at the sight. He growled, snapping his gaze back toward you by the pot of pasta, “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” his furious glare danced between you and the wet noodle that stuck to the wall.

“I wanted to see if it would actually stick! Don’t get your balls in a twist, it was one noodle!”

“So damn wasteful,” Bakugou ground his teeth as he frustratedly scrapped the starchy pasta off of your wall. He opened his mouth to tell you just this, but immediately snapped it back shut as he felt something being thrown at his head, “that better not be what I think it is…” he snarled through his teeth as he eyed food dangling from one of the spines of his hair.

“Don’t worry, Kacchan. It’s not a worm,” you laughed, but your giddiness was soon cut off as a hot noodle was thrown back in your direction. You could only blink as it stuck itself on your nose.

“Hmph,” the corners of Bakugou’s lips slowly curled into a smirk, “It’s a good look on you, noodle face,” You laughed but once again was cut off. The brief sound of his laugh coinciding with your own shocked you.

His smile slowly died down as he caught wind of you gawking at him. He cleared his throat, “Are you done being a child? I’m ready to enjoy my good ass cooking.”

However, you didn't answer him as you once again found a smile creeping onto your face. He rolled his eyes and began making himself a plate of food, but he quickly grew tired of you smiling at him like some bimbo,

“What?!” He snapped, “You want another noodle to the face.”

You shook your head as you shuffled past him to serve yourself a plate, “No.. just you have a nice laugh.”

He scoffed, “That all you're eating?” he completely disregarded your comment but you decided to let it die too,

“I don’t see you with any food on your plate,” you shrugged, “I’d be more worried about yourself if I were you,” you winked at him before setting down at the table.

The night went pretty well after that. So well, in fact, that the two of you decided to have “parental meetings” every few days so that Bakugou could teach you how to cook. You ended up learning how to make 10 more dishes within the next three weeks.

Bakugou and you didn't exactly become close, but there were far less screaming matches than there had been in your first few meetings. You still didn't know him very well, but he wasn't necessarily a stranger anymore.

It was… nice.

The next check up came very quickly because of your lack of employment and your dates-- err um… “parental meetings” with Bakugou.

“Your twins should be about the size of avocados now! We’ll check again with a routine ultrasound. We do have the DNA tests in for you all so I’ll just go and run for those real quick.. well walk briskly. You don’t do an awful lot of running at my age.”

“I don’t do an awful lot of running now,” you joked, and Bakugou sent you a stern glare that screamed, ‘don’t encourage him.’ you shrugged as the doctor walked out of the room.

It was silent for what seemed like forever. You and Bakugou still weren't very good at sparking conversations, but eventually he spoke up as you laid back on the exam table, “You're really fucking showing now.”

You brows instantly came together, high fiving each other in your state of being roasted, “Thanks...” you deadpanned.

The look on your face sent a wave of hurt through the blond’s heart.

What the hell. It was like he felt your hurt. For the first time in a long time, Bakugou actually regretted his choice of words. He glared at the ground as he attempted to change the subject, “You’ve been eating, right?”

“How else Would I be sitting here, looking fat and talking to you, Kacchan.”

“I told you don’t call me that,” he paused, as if he were really considering his next statement, “Call me Katsuki,” he finally dragged out.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, Kacchan.”

Just as Bakugou open his mouth the no doubt scream at you, Dr. Yamakawa entered the room, 

“Mama Bakugou! We have some really good news. Everything seems fine with the twins according to the DNA testing. One is a little small right now, but it’s completely normal for there to be a dominant twin so to speak. No genetic abnormalities or health concerns,” you saw Bakgou visibly stiffen at this before relaxing as the doctor continued, “’Cept for you.”

You shook your head, blinking heavily as if you’d just been punched in the brow, “Me?”

“You do have a concerning BMI—you tend to lean a little towards underweight. I understand you are in the profession of modeling correct,” he said very, curtly, “You need to add more calories to your daily intake. You wont need to ‘eat for three” as they say, but you do need to put on some substantial pounds or you will risk a premature birth..”

You had no fucking idea what to say to that. ‘Nice?’ ‘Cool beans.’ ‘fucking just give me the mother of the year award already!’ You felt your chest tighten and suddenly you realized you hadn't been breathing. You sucked in abruptly, causing the doctor to take a step towards you,

“You're looking a little flushed there, Mama Bakugou.”

“Well how else is she supposed to respond when you tell her like that, old man?!” Bakugou snapped, causing both you and the doctor to gawk at him. 

“Kacchan! What the fuck don’t talk to him like that, jerk!”

Bakugou scoffed, throwing his glare, much more pouty this time-- to the jar of cotton balls on the counter of the office.

“It wouldn't help either of you to sugar coat this, son,” the doctor sighed, “You have made it this far along in her pregnancy. Miscarriage is substantially less likely but if you want to give these babies a better chance, I’d suggest higher caloric intake.”

Needless to say, Bakugou did not leave the doctor's office that day a very pleasant man. He would angrily stalk ahead of you a for a few moments before pausing and grumbling about how ‘fucking slow’ you were as you caught up before the cycle would start all over again. You could only take this for so long, however,

“What!?” you yelled suddenly as the grumbling phase of his cycle began once more, “Will you stop fucking brooding already and speak your mind—”

He instantly snapped his face towards your own to stare into your eyes. You fumbled back a bit as the intense vermilion bore into you. You opened your mouth to speak but his serious expression exclaimed something before yours could,

“I wanna move in with you.”

You paused. You couldn't have fucking heard that right.

He… wants to...

“What…?” you mouthed.

Taglist:  @steggy4ever​ @library-trash​ @watevermelon​ @glimmadora-ble​ @persephones24​ @dragonempress123​ @your-pri-ncess @broken-from-fandoms​ @hot-pocket01​ @tsukineho @bakugousbabydoll​ @bubbzibubbles @ikebukuro-ghoul​ @thehoneycookiecrumbs​ @katsukis-sad-angel​ @dulcetailurophile​ @yukiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @kanasakura @lonekitsune @pastel-prynce​ @mynameispurple​ @cutest-celestial-princess​ @minfani​ @aurorahoneybuns​ @galacticrosee @orokayagi​ @centerhabit​ @animefan7420 @katsukisposts   @bakugou-is-my-daddy

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 10

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Reader x Steve Rogers (best friend) Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count:1843

Warnings: Slow Start, Language.

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Annnddd I’m back! so I know it’s been a while since the last update and I just wanna thank you all for having patience with me while I finished up with college, just a warning this chapter may feel a little awkward to read due to me just getting back into my writing mind so apologises in advance for this one. Anyways I’ll quit blabbering, Enjoy everyone! :)

This was my day of reckoning, my punishment for all the bad deeds I’d done over the past couple of years…I was finally being sent to school. Okay maybe that was a tad dramatic, but can you blame me? I mean who wants to be trapped in a building against their will for 7 hours straight learning about dead guys?! No sane person would willingly agree to that crap!

I’ve tried just about everything to avoid my approaching doom, hell I even went as far as hiding in the basement surrounded by cobwebs to try and get out of this, but as per usual neither Steve or Bucky took mercy on me, hence why in currently trapped between the two. “You are aware I’m perfectly capable of walkin’ by myself aren’t ya? The looping of the arms is not needed boys” I swear down these two are being more annoying than usual, and I didn’t think that was humanly possible cause these two are basically the living embodiment of annoyance. Steve turned and raised his eyebrows at me, shaking his head as he let out a small laugh, “Yeah there’s absolutely no way I’m fallin’ for that again, last time that happened it look me and Buck an hour to get you outta that tree”. Ah crap there goes that plan.

I’m pretty sure the noise I made wasn’t even human, it was a mix between a seal and a possessed monkey “I’m not gonna get outta this am I?” “Nope” and que another frustrated groan. “Is this payback for the time I placed that bucket of flour above your bedroom door and watched the both of you turn into ghosts? If it is then I want you to know I regret nothin’” both of them stopped and glared at me, for some reason they didn’t find that as funny as I did, and I have no idea why. Okay whatever you do y/n don’t laugh, even if Steve’s face looks like a slapped arse don’t laugh! A snicker slipped past my lips and a few seconds later I was full on laughin’.  Goddamn it.

Both of em just let out a bunch of sighs and started draggin’ my butt along the street, wait there’s somethin’ I haven’t tried yet…in hindsight this is completely stupid but screw it. “OH MY GOD LOOK A SPACESHIP!” I’m pretty sure poor Bucky jumped outta his skin, Steve ended up trippin’ up and falling down, I’ll admit that I felt bad about but hey may plan worked! So why am I still standin’ there?… maybe we try this thing called running y/n! I quickly pulled my arm away from Bucky and used my new-found freedom to run in the opposite direction of them, I could hear the shouts of protest from the both of them, so I decided to kindly ignore them and absolutely leg it.  “GODAMMN IT Y/N! THIS IS THE FIFTH TIME THIS MORNIN’!” when were the boys gonna catch on that I didn’t wanna go? Do I need to prepare a firework show and blast it in their faces or somethin’…probably.  

I know I probably shouldn’t be smiling, but the feeling of the wind flowing through my hair as my feet hit the ground made me feel free, after so many years I could finally begin acting my age and enjoy my childhood. I finally felt content with my life, which is probably the opposite of what I should be feeling at this moment in time, considering I was currently making my grand escape. And to completely honest I’ve got no bloody clue as to where I am. I glanced behind me to see where the hell those idiots were, to my surprise Steve was directly behind me, Buck was somewhere in the back holdin’ his knee and I’m guessing the daft sod decked it. Why am I not surprised? Okay maybe I should of kept my mouth shut cause literally a second later my foot tripped over a rock and, you guessed correctly, I landed on my ass for the thousandth time!

“Sh*t! Cr*p! B*lls! That f**king hurt!” and that ladies and gentlemen is my fine command of the queens English, a groan of pain made me loose my train of thought as I turned my head to Steve, to put it simply he was laid flat on his back with his eye closed. Well there’s the rush of guilt I’ve been waiting for, “Sh*t Steve I’m sorry, you okay down there tough guy?” I quickly offered him my hand to help him up, I mean it’s the least I could do. Steve’s hand grabbed mine, a not so quiet grunt of pain made me feel even worse, quick question why am I such an assh*le at times? “Yeah, I’m fine y/n, don’t worry about it you know for a fact I’ve had worse” a quiet sigh left my lips as I brought him in for a hug, which was a tiny bit awkward due to the height difference. Once we pulled away from each other, I couldn’t supress the need to check him for anymore injuries, much to Steve’s embarrassment and Bucky’s amusement, “Jesus I’m gonna have to start wrapping ya up in blankets and pillows, Steve how the hell did you manage to get a bruise on your ear?!”

The sudden gasp behind me pretty much answered the question for me, it’s safe to say barney boy is in trouble…for the first in my life Bucky looks pretty f**king terrified of me, perfect. Slowly I started inching towards him, the glare I was sending him would probably make a demon cry for his mum…so yeah imma go kill the boy. I didn’t even have to say anything, he just started runnin’, “IT’S NOT MY FAULT HE STOLE MY FR**KING PUDDIN’ AND THE PUNK KNOWS I LOVE MY PUDDIN!’” YEP DEFINITELY KILLIN’ HIM “HE IS A SMALL AND GENTLE BOY HOW IN THE NAME OF HELL CAN YOU EVEN THINK OF LAYIN’ A HAND ON ‘IM?!” god this sounds like a bleeding soap opera.

 At this point I wouldn’t be surprised of someone called the cops on us, all everyone woulda seen was a big lad runnin’ for his life as a small lass tried to murder him while a smaller lad ran after the pair yellin’ for em to quit it.  Now that I think about, that’s actually hilarious. Wait, where was I? ah yes the murdering of one James Barnes…okay that is not a normal sentence I am aware. “HE.STOLE.MY.PUDDIN’! THAT A CRIME WORTHY OF DEATH!” oh for f**ksake “HOW THE HELL DO YA KNOW IT WAS HIM?! DID YOU NOT THINK IT COULDA BE BECCA?!” I think he made a sudden realisation, cause the dumbass stopped running and BOOM I was on the freakin’ floor. Again. We both groaned, mine was mostly in annoyance more than anything, but seriously the bloody floor is quickly becoming me best mate! “…. It just dawned on me that that could be a possibility…” if my neck twisted any quicker I’m 100% sure that I’d end up doin’ that weird owl thing “Oh now you realise?! Ya gonna say sorry to Steve or not?” a few seconds of silence gave me my answer. “Don’t give me that look y/n! I ain’t doing s**t till I’ve got some evidence so he’s still under my list of suspects!” oh my Jesus Christ this is gonna be the day I get arrested for murder isn’t it?

“Barnaby…you have exactly five seconds to run for your life so I highly recommend you get your affairs in order and kiss ya ass goodbye” oh hey look at that I didn’t yell at him! Well done me I’m so proud! “could you two quit trying to kill each other for 5 minutes?! We’re already late enough as is it and I ain’t explainin’ to the teacher why Buck’s outta it on the floor!” my f**kin god Steve just yelled! At me! why do I never have a camera when this s**t happens?  “Jeez, alright I’ll murder him later, calm your damn t*ts Rogers” and cue the sound of barely contained frustration in 3,2,1….

“I’m beginning to get the feelin’ that you don’t like me y/n” oh really? I wonder what gave that away “wow you catch on quickly don’t ya Barnaby?” by the looks of things I’m really doing wonders for his ego, buck’s head looks like it’s gotten smaller so the risk of him turning into a hot air balloon’s gone down. The feeling of a pair of eyes glaring at the back of my head once again reminded me that the blonde boy was quickly getting tired of our crap, my worst fears were confirmed once I met Steve’s surprisingly intimidating glare…how he manages to be both adorable and beyond f**king terrifying is a mystery to me. “Okay I’m comin’ just stop staring at me like I just murdered your kitten!” and the little s**t has the nerve to smirk and look pleased with himself, ugh he’s been hanging ‘round me and Bucky too long that’s for sure.

“Ya know Buck and you are gonna be the death of me” right do I be offended or pleased with that statement? “actually, if anything it’s gonna be the pair of you that send me to an early grave cause god knows the both of ya don’t know how to stay outta trouble” two muffled sounds of protest came from my left and from behind me, “what’s that supposed to mean?!” once again the point has been missed “do you really wanna know the answer to that? I’ve got my report and presentation ready on how you two are a pair of numpties”.

Maybe that was a tad harsh…okay wait never mind it seems I’ve learned how to fly again with the assistance of one James Buchannan Barnes. “this is coming from the girl who can’t walk five feet without fallin’ over somethin’?” as much as I hate to admit it the walking embodiment of frustration and annoyance has a point “what you call fallin’ I call floor hugs, now how about you pUT ME DOWN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!” wait when did Steve walk off? See this is what happens when an overgrown ape demands attention. I don’t even have to look at Buck to know he’s givin’ me that look that says, “what the hell?” and “I’m not surprised by this” at the same time, “Nah I don’t think that’s gonna happen doll” the temptation to kick ‘im where the sun doesn’t shine is too much to bare for me at this point. “And you wonder why I love Steve more that you” Buck’s face kinda looked like someone just shoved a whole lemon in his mouth, I’m almost certain that he woulda dropped me on my ass if it wasn’t for the fact that Steve came over and dragged us both through the gates of hell.

This is gonna be so much fun!……said no-one ever.  

Okay…maybe it didn’t suck as much a thought it did, hopefully my skills as a writer will come back for the next couple of chapters XD Thanks for reading ! :)

Rose xxx

[anboringday]

A Date With Lenny | Part 3

Pairing: Lenny Summers x F!reader/OC

Summary: Lenny and his lover spends some quality time together in Valentine. Head over heels for one another, things get heated between the two rather quickly ;) 

Word Count: 3.9k

Rating: NSFW/Explicit

Read on ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Arms linked, Lenny and I sauntered out of the crowded saloon. It was a lively night in Valentine, a constant stream of interested visitors trotted through on horseback. Fellers loitered outside the stores, laughing and chatting boisterously. Penned pigs squealed, stray dogs panted in the heat, and chimes rung as doors opened. The noise and activity of the teeming little town was disorderly and loud, but not unpleasant. In fact, it was quaint. The people here were unfettered, spirited, and unapologetically free.  

Normally, I felt rather small and out of place in the company of strangers, but with Lenny beside me, all my silly fears and insecurities melted away. He escorted me through town in his black brushed cotton vest and matching trousers, his shirt and neckerchief both a pristine white. And god, he looked damn fine too, putting every other man in attendance to shame. Ever so often, the women that crossed our path would stare, sometimes tripping over their own feet as they took in his remarkably handsome face.

But he was all mine, and I made it known to the world by keeping my arm hooked possessively around his. Occasionally rubbing his strong shoulders. Stroking his toned biceps. He’d return the affection by showering my cheeks with tiny, playful kisses as we strolled aimlessly along Valentine’s dirt road. We had no destination in mind, no grand plans, or schedules to keep. We were simply enjoying each other’s company, and I couldn’t have been happier.

Cradling a flask of whiskey to his chest, Lenny took a swig. “See, the saloon wasn’t so bad, right? We ate a full course, top-notch quality meal in absolute peace, undisturbed—no bar fights, and only a few drunken bastards got rowdy and ruined the mood. Usually it’s much worse.”

“We have to keep a low profile,” I muttered. “We’re lucky no one recognized you.”

“Have you forgotten that I am the living embodiment of luck—” He tripped over a rock and tumbled clumsily, landing on his backside with a rough thud.

My heart skipped a beat. “Lenny!” I hovered over him. “Are you okay?”

With the cutest, goofy grin plastered to his face, he patted himself down for injuries. “No broken bones…I’ll live, I reckon.”  

His wide, bright smile was contagious. Holding the hem of my flowy skirt, I crouched to his level and surveyed him briefly. Besides being stricken with a bad case of the giggles, he seemed fine. “Of course, you’ll live. You have an obligation to keep breathing, Mr. Summers, ‘cause I wouldn’t last a day without you.”

“Is that so? I guess you’re stuck with me then…forever!” His arms enclosed around my waist, he tugged me to the ground playfully.

“Get off, you silly man!” With a hastily suppressed snicker, I squirmed about in his warm embrace. “Release me!”

“Nooo, you can’t get rid of me—not ever! You’re all mine. Just submit already, woman!” He attacked my cheeks with a frantic rush of kisses.

I smothered a chuckle from the sensation of his beard stubble brushing against my skin, but once he started tickling my sides, my voice rang up a scale and crackled hysterically. Whenever I tried to pull away, he’d draw me right back in, fragrantly fun, carefree, and mischievous despite the dozens of onlookers in our midst.

I tickled him back, and Lenny’s laughter was so jubilant, pure as the Heavens above, childish even despite his adulthood and masculinity. His mirth was like the summer sun and the stars at the peak of dawn. Whenever I heard it, no matter the time of day or weather, the world brightened.

Breathing in his tantalizing, uniquely familiar scent, I nuzzled my nose against his. “I love you.”

Stiffening abruptly, a rush of red stained his cheeks. His voice lowered, quiet and shy. “Hey, you’re making me feel all fuzzy and warm inside. There’s folks around—I’m not blushing, am I?”

“You are. It’s adorable.” I stood and extended a hand to him. “Now get up outta that dirt, silly.”

“C’mere, Sugar.” With a captivating smile, he lured me down to his level once again. He tipped his chin toward the sky. “Look at the stars, ain’t they pretty?”

Pinpoints of silver peeped in and out of the masses of gray clouds overhead. It was going to rain soon. I wiped the dust from my skirt. “You’re ruining my outfit, handsome.”

“What does it matter? I’m just gonna take it off you anyway.” He took another sip of his whiskey.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, cowboy.”

Music blared from the nearby saloon, a live performance it sounded like. There was clapping and cheering, a soulful feminine voice filled the air, blending in elegantly with the strum of stringed instruments.

Lenny’s brows shot up. “You hear that?”

I nodded. “It sounds lovely.”

He tossed his whiskey aside and rose, lifting me along with him. Taking my hand in his, he preformed a courtly bow, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “My lady, may I have this dance?”

“Dance?” My face heated at the proposal. “H-here?”

“Right here, right now.”

Filled with embarrassed discomfort, I lowered my head. “There’s an awful lot of people around, Lenny.”

“Don’t be scared. We’re in this together. Just focus on me, okay?”

Arms encircling my waist, he anchored me against him, swaying to the music. I was tense and on edge at first, I’ve never danced in public. Let alone in the center of town where just about every neighboring feller, woman, loyal steed, and child could take a gander.

But once his hazel gaze found mine, our bustling surroundings melted away. Hypnotized by the shimmering sparks of gold in the depths of his eyes, all I could see was him. The way his lean body glided with effortless rhythm and fluidity. How his muscles flexed and rippled with every slight movement beneath his shirt. Following his gentle motion, my arms slid around his neck. He was my world, and the moment was ours.

“We coulda done this in the saloon, you know,” I said.

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “I know going to that saloon in particular was my idea, but uh, honestly…I didn’t feel comfortable in there.”

“Why? Did one of those drunkards do something? Say something? I swear, if there are any inbred yokels around here, you just point me in their direction—”

“No, it wasn’t that.” He gave a shaky laugh. “Every fella in there was eyeballing you. It ain’t no crime to look but…” His voice trailed off.

I frowned. “I didn’t notice anyone was staring, I’m sorry—”

“Hey, don’t apologize for being the prettiest girl in town. You got all the women in the West green with envy and the fellas? They salivate over you like a pack of rabid dogs after a bone. And regardless of all that, you chose me. Feels like a dream. The best damn dream.” He dipped me back and kissed my temple. I held onto him as his full lips drifted to my neck, brushing over my sensitive skin. I closed my eyes on a moan when he caught the lobe of my ear between his teeth, the spontaneity of it all warmed my heart, and awakened a fierce ache between my legs.

With he straightened me, I was near breathless and dizzy. There was an applause, and whistling coming from over my shoulder. Lenny’s grasp on me was strong and clinging, as if I could slip through his fingers at any given moment. “You’re mine, I’m yours, and now everybody knows it.”

I flushed, perversely flattered and delighted by his possessiveness. “You know, this isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘keeping a low profile’,” I whispered.

“So, about that…” He grinned sheepishly, a boyish smile so cutely at odds with the wiry, solid sexuality of his body. “I ain’t the best at laying low, never have been. Everywhere I go, something or somebody starts kickin’ up a fuss and I get dragged into it. For example, some fool gets robbed—by no fault of mine, might I add—then that same fool gets brave and winds up with a bullet in his gut. And of course, being the law-abiding citizen that I very much am, I got no choice but to intervene.”

I smiled. “So, all this time you’ve been playing the hero? Everything the lawmen said about you was a lie?”

“The law ain’t never been fair or smart.”

“That much is true.” The sky rumbled, and the clouds began to shed some heavy droplets of rain. Folks began to retreat indoors, while a select few preferred to take shelter under the general store awnings.

“Well, there goes our audience,” Lenny said. “A real shame, too. I was getting used to the limelight.” He took off his brown leather cowboy hat and gave it to me. “Here, Sugar. For your hair.”

“Thank you.” I nuzzled my face to his chest. “We should go. The storm is only going to get worse.”

Seemingly unbothered by the rain, he tilted my chin up and settled his mouth on mine. A rush of warmth flowed through me, the soft sweetness of his kiss weakened my knees. Gradually, the pressure of his lips increased, and I surrendered myself to him. His tongue stroked slow and tenderly over mine. Our connection was wildly passionate and undeniable. I was so absorbed by him, possessed by his sweet love, I hardly noticed the drizzle running down our faces to where our lips connected. The cold rain mingled with the uniquely wonderful taste of him.

The working of his mouth against mine made me hot. Restless. I pushed a hand into his gloriously damp hair and sucked on the bottom of his lip, tracing my tongue over its perfect fullness, nibbling, gently pulling…

The sound of his groan was so satisfyingly deep and erotic, my core throbbed, uncomfortably wet. Lenny broke the kiss, his chest heaving. “Damn…what are you doing to me?”

I smiled innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gripping my hips, he crushed me to him, the impressive package between his legs brushed my thigh. “I…I-I need to be inside you,” he confessed with some difficulty. “I’m aching.”

Moved by the extent of his longing, I stood on the tip of my toes and reclaimed his lips, my palms sliding all over his lethally sexy body. We were drenched in the chilly, pouring rain, but not even the forces of nature could keep my hands off him. “There’s a hotel next door,” I said between kisses.

Lenny nodded an assent and lifted me off my feet, my legs hooked around his waist. He carried me across the road and through the hotel’s swinging doors. The lobby was empty.

“I’ll be just a minute!” a voice I presumed to be the receptionist called out from down the hall.

Still holding me in his powerful arms, Lenny leaned against the front desk as we made out with reckless abandon. The soul-reaching massage of his lips sent shivers rippling up my spine. Raising my skirt a fraction, his hips started moving, the hard length of his cock grinding sinfully against me through the confides of his pants. Oh, god…a deep hunger stirred inside me. I had to have him—all of him—and it had to be soon. Or else I’d go crazy.

I held onto him for dear life, trembling from the hot, delicious friction. I didn’t care who was watching. I was way past the point of shyness, the primal desire to be fucked by this beautiful outlaw was at the forefront of my mind. It was all that mattered.

My skin burning hot and flustered, I whimpered. “I want you, Lenny.”

Muscles tense and visibly shaking with lust, he uttered huskily, “Fuck, I want—I need you.”

I buried my face in the crook of his corded neck, ravaging his skin with love bites and licks. “How bad do you need me?”

“Real bad. More than anything. I’ll beg if I got to. I’ll plead. I’ll get on my damn knees right now.” He swallowed deep, his expression tight and eyes smoldering. “If we don’t get a key soon, I might just bend you over this desk and fuck you right here.”

I trembled. It sounded like a threat as much as a promise, the scorching intensity of his words so unlike him. He was losing his composure, the desire stripping away his inhibitions and calm, sweet-tempered mannerisms. Only I could do this to him. It was a major turn-on and confidence boost.

“Here I am!” the receptionist finally arrived, scrambling into his rightful place behind the desk. His presence was a blur, I was too preoccupied enjoying the softness of Lenny’s lips. I could probably come like this, just by kissing him if we went at it long enough.

“Good Lord Almighty!” the receptionist gaped at us. “You kids need a room immediately! Luckily for you, we have one available. Just one. It’s been a big night for tourism, with that band of fancy folk from Saint Denis parading through town, playing their music and causing a ruckus. I don’t understand how anyone can get anything done with all that darn noise and commotion—”

Lenny shoved a hand into his satchel and flung a couple dollars at the chatty receptionist. It stopped his ranting, thank goodness.

“Second floor, first room on your right.” Once he passed over the key, Lenny whisked me upstairs. Heedless of everything and everyone, our hot, lingering kisses didn’t break as he fumbled with the lock. A moment later, the door opened, and we were inside a dimly lit room bathed in candlelight, rain softly drummed against the windowpanes.

Lenny dropped me on the bed. I reached for his vest and ripped it open, the buttons scattered across the hardwood floor. “Get naked, cowboy.”

He laughed, shrugging out of his shirt and suspenders, and then unbuckling his gun belt. I ran my hand down his chest in awe. His deep brown skin illuminated by the warm, flickering light, he glowed like flames piercing the darkness, radiant with transcendental beauty and mystery. I wanted him so bad, it hurt.

I nuzzled my face against the solid ridges of his damp, god-like abdomen. “Christ, why are you so perfect?”

“Perfect?” He pinched my cheek playfully. “Aw, you really think so? Arthur told me the same thing once, but he was drunk and vomiting in a pig pen outside the saloon when he said it—”

“Lenny…” Grinning, I swatted his hand off my cheek. “You’re ruining the mood.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Flashing an apologetic smile, he tossed aside the wet hat on my head and helped me out my clothes with gentle finesse. I went for his zipper, freeing his thick cock. My mouth watered. He was rock-hard, and throbbing. I traced the flat of my tongue along the heavy veins coursing his length, slow and worshipfully.  

He fisted my hair, restraining me just before I took him into my mouth. “Nuh-uh, Sugar. That can wait. Lay down.”

My brows raised. Apparently, Lenny was in charge tonight. I obeyed, curious of what he had in store.

The heat and clean, woodsy scent of his body took my breath away once he came down on me. “You’re beautiful.” He plumped one breast in his hand, kissing my neck, his lips grazing back and forth over my tender, flustered skin. I squirmed from the heady sensation. My legs locked around his hips, silently urging him to make love to me already. Near mindless with need, I struggled to find my voice, to formulate words. All that slipped from my throat was tiny, helpless whimpering.

He took himself in his hand and stroked my slick entrance, the soft nudges of his cock head agonizingly teasing. I arched my hips, my body straining toward him, desperate for a connection. He was making me wait, avoiding my clit and somehow resisting the temptation of fucking me despite my pleading.

“Lenny, please. What are you waiting for?”

“Hush now,” he said. “You’ll be ready for me soon.”

“I’ve been ready for you for the longest. Since this morning.”

He nipped my neck, sucking feverishly. Surely leaving a mark behind. Inflamed and trembling in distress, I rolled my hips against the rigid column of flesh he so cruelly teased me with. Patiently, he coaxed me to the brink of insanity. I was soaked in my own wetness, creaming madly for the feel of him inside me.

Raking my nails across his back, I pulled him closer. I needed him to fuck me more than I needed my next breath. “Now,” I gasped. “Need you now.”

With an expert shift of his hips, he pushed into me hard, and so pleasantly deep.

“Oh, God, yes,” I moaned, shuddering, clenching around him. Finally. Warmth struck my heart. I’ve been waiting for this for so long, too long—

“Don’t come,” he murmured, his palms slipped under my hips and cupped my behind, squeezing.

“Excuse me?” I was so close to the edge already. How the hell did he expect me not to go off?

“Good things come to those who wait. It feels so much better in the end.” Lenny started to move, his thrusts lazy and tortuously slow. “Can you do that for me, Sugar? Can you make it last?”

The cadence of his soft-spoken, drawling words sounded so sweet in my ears, so delicate. A fierce ache struck my chest. I was hopelessly in love with him, and more than willing to submit to his every need and request.

“It’s not fair,” I mumbled, my vision blurred with tears. “You have no idea how good you feel inside me.”

“Trust me, I-I do.” Lenny’s leisurely rhythm came to an abrupt halt, his body shivered violently. Jaw clenched, a groan slipped through his lips, tension contorted the gorgeous features of his face. Holding back seemed to be affecting him as well.

Quickly regaining his poise, he resumed screwing me. Lenny knew my body so well, all the tender spots that demanded attention and how precisely to stroke them. It was all muscle memory to him at this point. Over and over, his cock rubbed the bundle of quivering nerves clenching, aching for his touch.

Gripping the sheets with white-knuckled force, I smothered an upsurge of sobs, thrashing against the overwhelming need to climax. I was burning from the inside out, our bodies sticky with sweat. Trembling uncontrollably, I couldn’t hold back for much longer…

“Don’t come,” Lenny repeated. “Make this last. Just hold on.”

“I c-can’t. It feels amazing. Jesus, Lenny…” Tears escaped my eyes. I was falling apart, utterly and irreversibly lost in him. “I love you. I-I love you so, so much…”

He kissed away the tear tracks on my face. “Hold me. Don’t you let go.”

I released the covers and clung to him. His heavy-lidded gaze snagged with mine, searing into me. He sighed heavily, from pleasure, tension, or both—I couldn’t tell. His hips still surging at a moderate, deliberately restrained tempo that was driving senseless, I blurted, “Slow down. Please. I’ll come if you don’t slow down.”

“Will you now?” A wicked smile pulled at his lips. “I thought you wanted to come, Sugar. Why the change of heart?”

My back arched as his hold on my behind grew bruising. He lifted my hips into his thrusts, and I cried out, my core boiling and tightening with a pressure so severe, I feared I’d snap in two if I didn’t give into my bodily cravings soon.

“I won’t come,” I panted. “Not—not until y-you say so.”

His hazel eyes softened, sympathetic almost as he watched me quiver helplessly beneath him. One hand clasping the side of my face, he kissed me with a heartrending tenderness, his tongue caressing mine. Yes.

“Come for me,” he fucked me harder, dominating my body, although his voice was honeysweet against my lips. “I need to feel you…”

With his permission, an orgasm erupted inside me like a volcano, molten pleasure spreading from my core and overcoming the entirety of my body in a scorching wave. It was remarkable. Explosive. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I let out a shrill cry, writhing under Lenny’s sweat-slick muscles. His name spewed repeatedly from my lips as he fucked me into blissful oblivion.

The climax surged on and on. I was melting, drowning in the immense ecstasy of being loved by him, pleased by him. He was my everything, and without him I was empty and hollow. I could die in his arms right now and regret not a thing, because I’ve never truly lived a day until I met him.  

The connection we shared was incredibly intense, inside and outside the bedroom. But when we were making love like this, intimately linked, giving and receiving pleasure from one another like our lives depended on it…our bond felt unbreakable. It was frightening how deeply I adored him—an outlaw. A man the law wanted strung up by a noose…

A muscle twitching in his jaw, he rode out my climax until the clenches faded; then he slowed down his pace, burying himself inside me languidly. He sucked in a harsh breath, eyes dark and dilated, his strong body convulsed furiously. He was teetering on the edge of an orgasm, still denying himself the pleasure he’s been working toward all night long. The glaring self-control and perseverance Lenny emanated was something to be envied.

I gathered his hair in my hands, kissing the side of his damp throat. “You’re shaking, handsome. Do I feel that good?”

“Yes,” he rasped, pounding into me erratically, his balls slapping against the curve of my behind. “Oh shit, yes.”

A bead of sweat dripped from his chin onto the corner of my lip. I slid my tongue along his sculpted jawline, collecting the saltiness with a soft murmur of satisfaction. He tasted so good, and the scent of his lust smelled even better.

“Why don’t you come inside me, cowboy?” I teased, my voice husky. “You know you want to.”

He clasped the nape of my neck, his gaze burned into mine. “Do you want me to?”

I had just as much control over his body as he did mine and I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, Lenny. Come.”

With a serrated groan, his beautiful cock jerked, spurting hotly, flooding me with his heat. His hips ground against mine, he emptied his load as deeply as he could inside me. I don’t know how long we laid there holding each other, spent and panting. Eventually, our breathing steadied and our bodies cooled.

“Leonard Summers!” a rugged voice shouted from outside, piercing the calm serenity of the rain. “We know you’re in here! Give yourself up, boy, there ain’t nowhere left to run!”

Lenny shot up from the bed.

Still wrapped up in a sex-induced daze, my brain struggled to comprehend what the hell was happening. Lazily, I sat up, covering my exposed breasts with the sheets. “What’s going on?”

Lenny inched to the window and glanced furtively though the blinds. “Lawmen,” he winced. “A lot of ‘em.”

I shivered, my heartbeat sped up. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I was, Sugar. Maybe you were right—coming ‘round here was, in fact, a real bad idea.” His teeth gleamed in a lopsided smile, confident and reassuring despite our unfortunate circumstances. “So, uh…you know how to handle a gun, right?”

My eyes widened. Oh no…

[mochi-marie]

Matchup for a bnha or haikyuu bb? Whichever you’re more motivated and inspired by! I love both😌

I’m pan/bi/don’t really have a word for whatever I am lmao. I use she/her and they/them pronouns!

I’m pretty short😒 I have very long dark hair, brown eyes, and freckles! I have an undercut, and an eyebrow slit, I have a dark blue money piece too😌

For personality, I’m incredibly chaotic😅Though I’m an introvert. But I have the tendency to be rather loud, and I have some bad anger issues. I’d consider myself a pretty spontaneous, accepting, ambitious for sure, academic, and creative person. :) I’m also a Libra!

And for hobbies, I’m a tumblr writer, for starters😌 reading, gardening, anything anime(wow who coulda guessed), random art related things, and anything music related are what I spend most of my time doing :) Homie I play like 8 different instruments lmao

For clothing style, I prefer being comfortable but honestly I dress edgy as fuck lmao. Band tees, hoodies, leggings or skinny jeans, vans 😌 (the urge I have to buy a bucket hat,,, you don’t even know) but I have days where I dress totally different so it’s kinda up in the air🤷🏻‍♀️ whatever I’m feeling at the time

My love language is 50% words of affirmation, and 50% quality time. I’m not big on touching due to some past shit, but in long term relationships I’ve found myself being okay with it.

I don’t have a type physically, at least I think so? But I do personality wise! Accepting, open minded, hard working, and generally compassionate/caring to others are BIG. Also, if you don’t love animals, it’s not happening bro. (I’m an animal lover okay cut me some slack)

Lastly, I desperately want to say I’m an early bird- so so bad. But I’m a night owl by default, usually going to bed around 8-9am. Maybe I am a morning person then? 🧐 One thing I can’t live without is my cat😌 My absolute -BABY-

That was a bit long, but I used your examples page to help! I also tried to separate in terms of usefulness lmao! Hopefully I got some relevant stuff for ya😌

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: so i really hope you like what's in here !! kinda nervous, especially since i didn't want to look like i was taking the easy way out by choosing shirabu 'cause of your pfp, so i hope you like who i chose instead ! 🥺😌 also, i had to look up what money pieces were because i was literally so confused pff, so hopefully i looked up the right thing ?? also, i feel like i might've made him a bit ooc since i'm still trying to get a handle on how to write certain characters, so i deeply apologize !! 😞

𝗜𝗪𝗔𝗜𝗭𝗨𝗠𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗝𝗜𝗠𝗘

♡ . . . REASONINGS : reading over the entire ask, i have come to the conclusion that, in my own personal opinion, you would look best with iwaizumi hajime!

look-wise, i think alone you would be a rather interesting couple! when it comes to clothing style, on your more edgy days, i could see you and iwaizumi both rocking some rather nice looking outfits fit with dark fitted trousers and t-shirts or hoodies — y'know that one outfit of his where it is a grey hoodie underneath what seems to be a jean-jacket of some sorts? if you were cold, he'd shoulder it off to throw over your form, looking away quickly while muttering how he couldn't let you go cold.

i think for this relationship, there definitely seems to be a small bit of "opposites attract". mentioning how chaotic you can be, your creativity and spontaneous tendencies would nicely balance his gruff / seemingly grumpy austerity. iwaizumi also fills out some mentions of what you are attracted to; iwa seems to be hard-working and ambitious to a degree, but he is also very caring and observant of others, as seen within his relationship with oikawa. i feel that he might be used to dealing with people more expressive than him, so i think that this relationship would balance out really nicely and just be so cute together.. ☺️ <3

iwaizumi would definitely respect your discomfort with physical affection in the beginning, and along with that, quality time!! he! would! love! it! whether it would be sitting in the same room as you as you both do your own little things, or managing to rope him into gardening with you or showing him your talent in all those instruments, i have a feeling that he'd love to spend simple time with you.

i think he would be mildly intrigued in your hobby of gardening — imagine him bringing out any tools you might need, whether it be a bucket or spades or something.. ( listen, i suck at anything dealing with gardening i don't know anything about it i apologize- ) <3

𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗣 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗-𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦

♡ . . . iwaizumi would either fight your cat for your affection, or be fighting you for your cat's affection, there is no other way that i can see it (depending if you're comfortable with affection / how far into the relationship you are!)

♡ . . . like i said, imagine him coming out to garden with you!! if you tend to garden for a while (i'm imagining like a full on garden, so i apologize if i'm way off base!!), he might stay outside with you for awhile, help if you need anything, bring you a drink if it's hot outside 🥺

♡ . . . i feel like he might get you little things, like if he sees a book you've been talking about he'd get it for you on spur of the moment and bring it home to you ! or if you've been wanting to try out something art-y he might get some supplies on his next outing, or supplies similar to what you had been talking about! he'll leave them on the counter for you to find-

♡ . . . i feel like he would want to go everywhere with you, if he could — i'm not talking like he needs to be with you every second of the day, no — more so, i think iwa would always just get up and grab his shoes and keys if say you're going to the store.

𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗣 𝗠𝗢𝗢𝗗𝗕𝗢𝗔𝗥𝗗

𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗜𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦

♡ . . . sugawara koushi, tendou satori, akaashi keiji, yamaguchi tadashi

[waywardaardvark79]

Supernatural Rewrite: Season 1, Episode 10: Asylum

Summary:  Y/N Singer joins Sam and Dean on the road. A rewrite starring you.

Pairing: eventual Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: language, show level violence

Word Count: 10,442

A/N: I’ll try to do at least one episode a week. No set schedule. Tags open. 

You blinked open your eyes, trying to focus on the blurry red numbers on the clock, 2:37 AM. You tried to move around in bed, but Dean had wrapped himself around you and you couldn't move. 

"De." you said, trying to move his arm, only causing him to hold on to you tighter. "Dean, come on. You gotta let me up. I gotta pee." 

"Mmm...no." he sleepily mumbled, throwing one of his legs over you, further preventing your escape. 

You sighed heavily, "I gotta pee." you said, Dean burying his face in the back of your neck. 

"Five more minutes." he said, his lips practically touching your skin, sending a shiver down you spine. 

"Let. Go." you said, your hand sliding under the covers until you found his thigh, your fingers giving it a hard pinch. 

Dean shot up in bed, "What the fuck, Y/N?" he asked, glaring at you. 

"I gotta pee." you said, climbing out of bed, Dean settling back down, rolling to face away from you. 

"You coulda just said so." he mumbled, you shaking your head as you walked to the bathroom. 

You walked into the bathroom and closed the door before flipping on the light, trying not to wake the boys. You pulled off your gloves and tossed them on the sink before using the bathroom, standing back up a few moments later to wash your hands. 

You dried your hands on one of the small motel towels and flipped off the light before opening the door, forgetting your gloves on the bathroom sink. 

You shuffled back to bed, half asleep, and crawled inside, Dean's back to you. You snuggled up to him, tucking your legs under his, one arm thrown over  his side, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, your face buried between his shoulder blades as you breathed  him in. 

"Bein' the little spoon is kinda nice." you head Dean say, your mouth turning up at the corner as you chuckled under your breath, not realizing at the time that he didn't actually say that out loud. 

You were still half asleep, a low murmur pulling you closer to consciousness, but your eyes remained closed as you shifted in bed, listening. 

"Oh, please don't wake up. I'm not ready for you to wake up yet." you heard Dean think, stilling yourself, wondering if he would continue. "I wonder if you ever notice just how much I look at you. I would think it would be a hard thing to miss. Sam sure says it is." Dean thought before he lifted your hand from his chest, "Hmm...maybe it doesn't work when you're sleepin'. Hey, maybe you could stop sleeping in those gloves all the time. I kinda miss the way your hands feel." Dean thought, pausing for a moment, his hand wrapping around yours, "You know, there are so many things I want to tell you, but I just never can find the words or the right time." he thought, and as much as you wanted to know what he was going to say next, you moved, Dean quickly letting go of your hand as you opened your eyes. 

It wasn't right to listen in on him when he didn't know you were, when he didn't think you could hear him, and part of you didn't know if you were ready to hear what he had to say. 

There had been enough change in your life. You didn't know if you could handle anymore, even though you were pretty sure you were feeling the same as him. 

"Hey, I didn't think you were ever gonna wake up. It's about time though, Singer. I can't feel my arm anymore." Dean said, your hand on his chest as you raised up, allowing him the room to pull his arm from under you. "Shit, Dean. Why the fuck did you have to go and say something like that?" he thought, a slight smile on your face as you sat up and pulled your hand away from him, breaking the connection. 

"You'll live." you said, getting out of bed, grabbing some clothes out of your bag before walking into the bathroom to get dressed. 

"Real fuckin' smooth." Dean breathed out, rubbing his hands over his face. 

"What'd you do now?" Sam asked, rolling over in bed. 

"What?" Dean asked, looking over at him. 

"What did you do now?" Sam asked, again, the bathroom door opening before Dean could answer. 

"I don't know about you guys, but I need some fuckin' coffee." you said, slipping on your gloves as you looked between them. "You guys want anything?" you asked, grabbing the keys from the table. 

"Yeah, grab us some, too." Dean said, throwing the covers back. 

"Alright, I'll be right back." you said, turning to head to the door. 

Sam watched you go, an amused look on his face, "So, you're letting her drive now?" he asked, once you walked out. 

"It's just coffee. It's no big deal." Dean said, getting up to get dressed. 

Sam chuckled, "Sure it's not." he said, a smile on his face. 

"Drop it, Sam. I said, it's not a big deal, so it isn't." Dean said. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." Sam said, Dean giving him a look before walking into the bathroom. 

You pushed through the motel door about twenty minutes later with a tray of coffee in your hands, Sam busy on the phone. 

"No, Dad was in California last we heard from him. We just thought...he comes to you for 'munitions...maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. Just, call us if you hear anything." Sam said. 

You walked into the room and handed Dean his coffee, "Lookin' for John?" you asked, Dean nodding his head. 

"Thanks." Sam said to the person on the end before hanging up. 

"Caleb hasn't heard from him?" Dean asked as you handed Sam his coffee. 

"Nope, and neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Any leads in there?" Sam asked. 

"No, same the last time I looked. Nothing I can make out...I love the guy, but I swear he writes like friggin' Yoda." Dean said. 

"Well, what about Bobby?" Sam asked, turning to you. "Maybe he's heard from him." 

"Sam, they...they don't really talk anymore. Besides, I talked to Dad yesterday and he didn't say anything about it. Believe me, if he heard from him, he would mention it." you said, Sam's face falling. 

Sam thought for  a moment, "You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person's." Sam said. 

"We've talked about this. Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail." Dean said. 

"He's right, Sam. That'd just be bad fuckin' news." you said. 

"I don't care anymore." Sam said, a cellphone ringing, Dean crossing the room to go get it. "After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean...he should've been there, guys. You both said so yourselves, and I know that both of you tried calling him and...nothing."

"I know!" Dean snapped, rummaging through his duffel, "Where the hell is my cell phone?" 

"Move. I'll find it." you said, knowing an argument was about to start, and you hadn't had enough coffee to deal with it yet. 

"You know, he could be dead for all we know." Sam said. 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Sam. Really?" you asked, still digging through the bag. 

"Don't say that! He's not dead! He's...he's..." Dean trailed off, unsure of what to say. 

"He's what? He's hiding? He's busy?" Sam asked. 

"Don't fuckin' start, Sam. It's too God damn early for this shit." you said, finally grabbing the phone and flipping it open, a text message from an unavailable number staring back at you, the message short and sweet, coordinates, "Well, fuck me." you said, passing the phone to Dean. 

"Huh. I don't believe it." he said, his eyes on the phone. 

"What?" Sam asked. 

"It's, uh...it's a text message. It's coordinates." Dean said, going over to the laptop. 

"You think Dad was texting us?" Sam asked Dean. 

"Who else would it be?" you asked, Dean nodding his head in agreement with you. 

"He's given us coordinates before." Dean said. 

"Guys, the man can barely work a toaster." Sam said, looking between you and Dean. 

"Sam, it's good news! It means he's okay, or alive at least." Dean said. 

"Well, was there a number on the caller ID?" Sam asked. 

"No, it said unknown." you answered. 

"Well, where do the coordinates point?" Sam asked. 

"That's the interesting part. Rockford, Illinois." Dean said. 

"Ok, and that's interesting how?" Sam asked. 

"Rockford, Illinois." you said, shaking your head, "Why does that sound so familiar?" you asked, Dean holding up a finger at you. 

"I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this. This cop, Walter Kelly, comes homes from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum." Dean said. 

"Roosevelt Asylum?" you asked, Dean nodding his head. 

"Okay, I'm not following. What does this have to do with us?" Sam asked. 

"Dad ear marked the same asylum in the journal. Let's see." Dean said, reaching for the journal. 

"I fuckin' knew that place sounded familiar." you said. 

"Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths...till last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go." Dean said. 

Sam scoffed, "This is a job...Dad wants us to work a job." he said. 

"So, what if he does?" you asked, shrugging your shoulders. 

"Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there?" Dean said. 

"Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing." Sam said. 

"What are you getting at, Sam? It is kinda our job, so I don't see what the big deal is." you said, Dean speaking before Sam could say anything. 

"Who cares! If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!" Dean said. 

"This doesn't strike you guys as weird? The texting? The coordinates?" Sam asked, looking between you and Dean. 

"Sam." you sighed, at a loss for words, knowing nothing that you could say to him would change his mind. 

"Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'." Dean said, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

The three of you were standing in a bar, each of you looking for Daniel Gunderson, the partner of the cop that killed himself. 

"Right there." you said, subtly pointing out the man who just sat down at the bar. 

"Ready?" Dean asked, nudging you. 

"Yeah, reporters, right?" you asked, Dean nodding his head before the two of you walked over to him. 

"You're Daniel Gunderson. You're a cop, right?" Dean asked. 

"Yeah." Gunderson said. 

"Huh. I'm, uh, Nigel Tufnel and this is Lyla St. James, The Chicago Tribune. Mind if we ask you a couple questions about your partner?" Dean asked. 

"Yeah, I do. I'm just tryin' to have a beer here." Gunderson said, obviously annoyed with the two of you. 

"That's okay, I swear it won't take  that long. We just want to get the story in your words." Dean said. 

"We would really appreciate it." you added. 

"A week ago, my partner was sitting in that chair. Now he's dead. You two gonna ambush me here?" Gunderson asked. 

"We really are sorry for your loss." you said. 

"But, we need to know what happened." Dean added, Sam walking up and shoving him aside, roughly. 

"Hey, buddy, why don't you leave the poor guy alone! The man's an officer! Why don'tcha show a little respect!" Sam said to Dean before turning to you, "Same goes for you. You two should get outta here." 

"Come on." you said, grabbing Dean's arm. 

"You didn't have to do that." Gunderson said. 

"Yeah, course I did. Those two were serious jerks. Let me buy you a beer, huh?" Sam said before looking at the bartender, "Two." 

"Thanks." Gunderson said. 

You and Dean were sitting on the Impala when Sam walked out of the bar. 

"Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy." Dean said, you rolling your eyes. 

"I told you not to start anything." you said, shaking your head. 

"I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting." Sam said. 

"Huh?" Dean asked. 

"Never mind." Sam said. 

"What'd you find out from Gunderson?" Dean asked. 

"So, Walter Kelly was a good cop, head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him." Sam said. 

"That's all well and good, but what about at home? Maybe the guy had a shitty home life." you said. 

"He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but it was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids." Sam said. 

"Alright, so either Kelly had some deep seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him." Dean said. 

"Right." Sam said. 

"What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?" Dean asked. 

"A lot." Sam replied. 

The three of you pulled up outside of the asylum, all three of you getting out of the car. 

"You gonna be able to make it, Singer?" Dean asked, looking at the tall chain linked fence. 

"What kind of question is that? Of course I can make that, and I'm a little fuckin' insulted that you even asked." you said, narrowing your eyes at him. 

"Well...it's just last time you had to scale a fence like this...you had some trouble." Dean said. 

"Last time I had on a skirt." you said, looking up the length of the fence. 

"Yeah, but if you need my help just let me know." Dean said, looking you up and down. 

"Newsflash, I'm not wearing a skirt. I'll make it just fine on my own." you said. 

"Hmm...see, I was just thinkin' that those jeans look a little tight. I'd be all for you takin' 'em off if you need to. You know, to make it over the fence." Dean said, smirking at you. "Hell, I can even help you take 'em off. You know, if you need me to. I'm always willing to help." 

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head, "Be thankful you're fuckin' hot, De. I mean, do those lame ass attempts actually work on anyone?" you asked, as you started to climb the fence. 

"You think I'm hot?" Dean asked, a smile on his face as he followed you up the fence, quickly passing you. 

"Show off." you breathed out. "You know, I should have known that was all you would get outta that." you said, working your way down the other side of the fence, Dean already on the ground. 

"Hey, you can't take it back now." Dean said, his hands coming to rest on your hips, "Go ahead and jump. I got ya." he said, easing you to the ground before the two of you took off running to catch up with Sam. 

"So, apparently the cops chased the kids here...into the south wing." Sam said, pointing up at a sign over one of the doors, the three of you now inside the asylum. 

"South wing, huh? Wait a second." Dean said before flipping through John's journal. "1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived. Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts, and started lighting up the place." Dean said. 

"So, whatever's going on, the south wing is the heart of it." Sam said. 

"That's what itt sounds like to me." you said, walking ahead of Sam and Dean. 

"But if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?" Dean asked. 

"This could have something to do with it." you said, holding up a broken chain. "Looks like the doors are usually chained." 

"Could've been chained up for years." Sam said. 

"Yeah, to keep people out, or to keep something in." Dean said. 

"Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel." Dean said to Sam, as the three of you walked down a hallway, "You too, Miss Cleo." 

"How long have you been sittin' on that one?" you asked, a half smile on your face. 

"Dude, enough." Sam said. 

"I'm serious. You guys gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you two got going on." Dean said. 

"I told you, it's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes, weird dreams." Sam said. 

"Yeah, whatever. Don't ask, don't tell." Dean said before looking to you. 

"Listen, I'm not even gonna fuckin' pretend to know what's going on with me. So, if you wanna go with ESP then go ahead. I kinda thought we settled on magic fingers, though." you teased, Dean smiling. 

"You get any readings on that thing or not?" Sam asked, looking over to Dean, trying to get the focus back on the case. 

"Nope. Of course, it doesn't mean no one's home." Dean said, looking down at his EMF before nudging you, "You, uh, feel anything, or you know, however it, uh, works?" Dean asked, nodding his head towards your hands. 

"I'd have to take the gloves off, but I can tell you that there is definitely something going on here. I can tell that with these on." you said. 

"Spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day. Maybe that's why." Sam said. 

"Yeah, the freaks come out at night." Dean said. 

"Yeah." Sam said, you nodding your head. 

"Hey, Sam, Y/N? Who do you guys think is the hotter psychic, Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Y/N, or Sam?" Dean asked, Sam pushing him causing Dean to laugh, "I'm pretty sure me and Y/N have the same pick." he said. 

"So, you think Sam is the hottest, too?" you asked, Sam laughing loudly. 

"What?! No! You were supposed to say you!" Dean yelled, you and Sam both walking into another room before he could say anything else. 

Dean whistled when he walked in, "Man, electro-shock, lobotomies. They did some twisted stuff to these people. Kinda like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest." Dean said, grinning at you and Sam, Sam ignoring him. 

You chuckled, smiling back at him, "I haven't seen that in years." you said, shaking your head, "Well, as near as I can figure out, It's 'cause I, uh, fight and fuck too much." you said, quoting the movie under your breath as you looked around, Dean smiling at you. 

"So, whaddaya guys think? Ghosts possessing people?" Dean asked, forcing himself to focus on the case instead of you. 

"Maybe." Sam said. 

"Or maybe it's more like Amityville." you suggested, Sam nodding his head. 

"Or the Smurl hauntings." Sam added. 

"Spirits driving them insane. Kinda like my man Jack in The Shining." Dean said, grinning, you turning to face him. 

"I said, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm just going to bash your brains in! Gonna bash 'em right the fuck in." you said, quoting The Shining, doing your best Nicholson impersonation, Dean laughing loudly. 

"See, that's why I love you." Dean blurted out, both you and him freezing the moment the words left his lips, each of you looking at each other in panic. "I...didn't...I mean, as a, uh, friend. Yeah, a friend, that's it." Dean said, playfully punching your arm. 

Sam cleared his throat, "Dean." he said, Dean looking over at him, "When are we going to talk about it?" Sam asked. 

"Talk about what?" Dean asked, your heart racing, afraid that Sam was going to push the two of you to talk about your feelings. 

"Sam, we don't need to talk about anything. He already explained himself, okay? Lots of friends love each other. So, there's no need for a therapy session or intervention, or whatever you have planned. Let's just fuckin' drop it." you said, Sam looking at you strangely. 

"I was talking about the fact that Dad's not here." Sam said. 

"Oh, of course." you said, slowly nodding your head, Dean speaking up before you could embarrass yourself any further. 

"Oh, I see...how 'bout...never." Dean said. 

"I'm being serious, guys. He sent us here..." Sam said, trailing off. 

"So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later." Dean said. 

"It doesn't matter what he wants." Sam said. 

"Sam." you sighed, "Can we just do the fuckin' job, and fight later?" you asked. 

"See. That attitude? Right there? That is why I always got the extra cookie." Dean said. 

"Guys, please. We've had this fight a hundred times by now. It's not going to fuckin' solve anything. Let's just do the job. John clearly wanted us to, and even if he didn't, it's still a job. If we leave now more people are gonna die just because we couldn't suck it up and move past shit." you said. 

"Dad could be in trouble. We should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about." Sam said. 

"I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order." Dean said. 

"So, what, we gotta always follow Dad's orders?" Sam asked. 

"Of course, we do." Dean said, both of them more than frustrated. 

"Alright! You two are gonna knock this shit off right fucking now. We have a job to do. We can pick this bullshit up later. You two can fight all you want then, but right now both of you are gonna lock it the fuck up." you said, looking between them, Dean turning away, ending the conversation. 

The three of you were poking around, looking for any information you could find, all three of you remaining silent, the tension palpable. 

Dean picked up a sign, "Sanford Ellicott...you guys know what we gotta do. We gotta find out more about the south wing. See if something happened here." Dean said before walking away, leaving the sign with Sam. 

"Come on, Sam." you said, turning to follow after Dean. "Let's go find out everything we can about this asshole."

"How do you know he was an asshole?" Sam asked, the corner of his mouth turning up. 

"Well, he was a doctor in this fuckin' place. That can't be anything good, so I'm pretty sure that makes him an asshole." you said, Sam shaking his head at you, a smile on his face, "But, what do I know? I think everyone's an asshole." you said, Sam chuckling as he stepped to your side. 

You and Dean were waiting outside of Dr. James Ellicott's office, the three of you deciding that Sam was the best one to go inside and talk to him. 

"Do you think Sam's right?" Dean asked, leaning against the glass windows by the door. 

"About what?" you asked, looking up at him from your spot on the ground, your knees drawn up to your chest, your arms wrapped around them. 

"About Dad. Do you think he's...he's dead?" Dean asked. 

"I don't." you said, Dean sliding down to sit next to you. 

"Do you really think that, or are you just tryin' to make me feel better?" he asked. 

"I wouldn't like to you about that. I'm not gonna sugar coat things just to make you feel better. I mean, I wouldn't want you to do that to me, so." you said, Dean nodding his head. 

"So, you think he's alive?" Dean asked, again. 

"I do. I don't think we're gonna find him though." you said, Dean's face falling, "At least not any time soon." 

"Why not?" he asked. 

"If John doesn't want to be found, we won't find him, and I honestly think...that he doesn't want us to find him." you said. 

"Then what's with the text messages? The coordinates?" Dean asked. 

"I think you were right when you said he wanted us to take over. I think that's why he's sending us jobs." you said, resting your head on his shoulder. 

"We...I...need to find him." Dean said. "I have to." 

"I know you do, and trust me, I'll be there every step of the way to help you, but I think we'll find him when he's ready for us to. John's smart, Dean. He knows what he's doing, and he can take care of himself. He'll be okay, De." you said. 

"I hope you're right." he said. 

"I always am." you said, trying to lighten the mood, stretching your legs out in front of you, "So, you have nothing to worry about, okay?" 

You felt Dean kiss the top of your head, "Thanks for, uh, just thanks." Dean said before standing back up, scared that he crossed a line. "What in the world could they be talkin' about in there? He's been in there forever." Dean added, changing the subject. 

"Maybe he's talkin' about us." you teased, getting to your feet. 

"Us?" Dean asked. 

"Yeah, what did he call us the other day? Emotionally constipated? Said therapy would do both of us some good. Maybe he's gettin' some tips." you said, Dean laughing. 

"Yeah, I can see him doing somethin' like that." Dean said, shaking his head, the two of you slipping into silence, both of you fearing what could slip out if the conversation continued. 

Dean was leaning against the windows again, looking bored when Sam walked out. 

"Dude! You were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?" Dean asked, catching up to him. 

"Just the hospital, you know." Sam said. 

"Well, with how long you were in there, you should know the entire fuckin' history of the place." you said, Sam giving you a completely done look. 

"And...?" Dean asked when Sam didn't say anything. 

"And the south wing? It's where they housed the really hard cases. The psychotics, the criminally insane." Sam said. 

"Sounds cozy." Dean said. 

"I was thinkin' the same thing." you added. 

"Yeah, and one night in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff, attacked each other." Sam said. 

"So, the patients took over the asylum?" Dean asked. 

"Apparently." Sam said. 

"Any deaths?" Dean asked. 

"De, a bunch of psychotic people rioted...of course people fuckin' died." you sassed, Dean rolling his eyes at you before playfully shoving you. 

"Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our Chief of Staff, Ellicott." Sam said. 

"Whaddaya mean, never recovered?" Dean asked. 

"Yeah, I mean, what the fuck could they have done with them?" you asked. 

"Cops scoured every inch of the place, but I guess the patients must've...stuffed the bodies somewhere." Sam said. 

"That's grim." Dean said. 

"Yeah, so, they transferred all the remaining patients and closed the hospital down." Sam said. 

"So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies." Dean said. 

"Not to mention,  a fuck load of homicidal spirits." you added. 

"Good times, huh, Singer? Let's check out the hospital tonight." Dean said, you and Sam nodding in agreement. 

The three of you were back at the asylum, Sam pushing open the door, you and Dean beside him. 

"Getting readings?" Sam asked, holding a video camera and a flashlight. 

"Yeah, big time." Dean said, looking down at his EMF. 

"This place is orbing like crazy." Sam said. 

"Probably multiple spirits out and about." Dean said, glancing over at you, stopping when he noticed you taking off your gloves, "What are you doin?" he asked. 

"What good are magic fingers if I don't use them?" you asked, shrugging your shoulders. 

Dean looked at you, concern etched on his face, "I don't know, Singer. You remember what happened last time. you should put 'em back on." Dean said. 

"I'll be fine." you said, Dean shaking his head at you, knowing that he couldn't change your mind. 

"If these unrecovered bodies are causing the haunting." Sam said, trailing off. 

"We gotta find 'em and burn 'em. Just be careful, though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a  pissed off spirit...is the pissed of spirit of a psycho killer." Dean said. 

Sam had separated from you and Dean, walking into another room alone. After a minutes on his own Sam saw an old woman through the lens of the camera he was holding, her hair white, one eye bloody and hanging out as she moved towards him. 

"Dean. Y/N! Dean!" Sam yelled, you and Dean running into the rom, Dean rummaging through his bag. "Shotgun!" Sam yelled. 

"Sam, get down!!" you yelled, raising your gun, Sam throwing himself to the ground before you pulled the trigger, the old woman disintegrating once she was hit. 

"That was weird." Sam said, the three of you still on edge. 

"Yeah. You're tellin' me." Dean said, walking out of the room, you and Sam following after him. 

"No, Dean, I mean, it was weird that she didn't attack me." Sam said. 

"Maybe she just hadn't had time yet." you said, Dean nodding.

"Yeah, looked pretty aggro from where I was standing." Dean said. 

"She didn't hurt me. She didn't even try! So, if she didn't wanna hurt me then what did she want?" Sam asked, a noise coming from one of the rooms the three of you were passing, stopping all of you in your tracks. 

Dean immediately raised his shotgun, Sam flicking on the flashlight as the three of you walked into the room the noise came from. 

You looked around the room, spotting the top of a blonde head sticking up from behind an overturned bed, grabbing the boys to point it out to them. 

The three of you braced yourselves, Sam reaching out to tip the bed over, a terrified girl spinning around to face the three of you.

"Fuck. What the hell are you doin' in here?" you asked, definitely not expecting to see another living person.

"It's alright, we're not going to hurt you. It's okay. What's your name?" Dean asked. 

"Katherine. Kat." she answered. 

"Okay, I'm Dean, this is Sam, and that's Y/N." Dean said, introducing the three of you. 

"Okay, great...we all know each other now. So, how about you tell us what the fuck you're doing here?" you asked. 

"Don't mind her." Sam said, stepping forward. "She means well...really. What are you doing here, though?" Sam asked. 

"Um, my boyfriend, Gavin." she said. 

"Of course." you said, shaking your head. "Of course, there's two of you." 

"Is he here?" Dean asked. 

"Somewhere. He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts. I thought it was all just...pretend. I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream and..." Kat trailed off, completely terrified. 

"Alright, Kat? Come on. Sam's gonna get you out of here and then we're gonna find your boyfriend." Dean said, gesturing between you and him. 

"No! No, I'm not going to leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you." she said. 

"Yeah, that's a really bad fuckin' idea. Almost as bad as the one to come in here in the first place." you said, Kat shrinking back .

"She's right. It's no joke around here, okay. It's dangerous." Dean said. 

"That's  why I gotta find him." Kat said. 

"Alright, I guess we're gonna split up then. Let's go." Dean said, stopping you when you tried to follow after Sam, "Uh-uh, you're with me. I can't make you wear the gloves, but I can keep you with me, so I can make sure nothing happens." Dean said. 

"Jesus Christ, Dean." you said, walking away from him. "You know, you gotta trust me when I tell you that I'm fine. You've already got one damsel in distress to look after. You don't need another one." you said, Dean biting his tongue to keep from arguing with you. 

You, Dean, and Kat were wandering around the halls, looking for her boyfriend, Gavin. 

"I got a question for ya. You've seen a lot of horror movies, yeah?" Dean asked her. 

"I guess so." Kat said, Dean turning to face her. 

"Do me a favor. Next time you see one? Pay attention. When someone says a place is haunted...don't go in." Dean said. 

"He's right, you know. All this shit's real, and you're gonna mess around and get yourself killed." you said, Kat nodding her head. 

You, Dean and  Kat were walking down yet another hallway, Dean leading the way, his flashlight fading. 

"You son of a bitch." Dean said, shaking the flashlight. 

"You want mine?" you asked, grabbing your flashlight, trying to turn in on, "Fuck, mines out, too." 

"It's alright. I got a lighter." Dean said, reaching into his pocket. 

"Ow. You're hurting my arm." Kat said causing you to turn and face her. 

"What are you talking about?" you asked. "I'm not touching you." you said, looking down to see a disembodied hand clutching onto Kat's arm. "Oh fuck." you said, quickly grabbing onto her, both of you ripped backwards into a room, the metal door slamming behind you. 

Dean rushed over to the door, and struggled to pull it open, Kat banging on it from the inside, the door not budging. 

"Lemme out! Please!" Kat screamed, Dean continuing to struggle with the door. 

"Kat! Hang on!" he yelled, pausing a moment. "Hey, Singer, try to calm her down." he said, smashing at the door with a metal pipe. 

"Singer, what's going on in there?" Dean asked, worried that he hadn't heard you yet. "Y/N!!" he yelled again, getting no response from you. 

Sam and Gavin were running down the hall towards Dean, "What's going on?" Sam asked. 

"They're inside with one of them, and Y/N ain't answering." Dean said, Kat's scream causing him to whip back towards the door. 

"Kat?! Kat, what's going on in there?" Dean asked, completely panicked that he still hadn't heard you. 

"Help me!!" Kat screamed. 

"Kat!" Gavin yelled. 

"Get me outta here!" Kat yelled, sliding down against the door. 

"Kat, I need you to listen to me, I need you to tell me what Y/N's doing. Is she okay?" Dean asked. 

"I...I don't know. It...I think it did something to her. She's...she's just sitting there." Kat said, Dean trying even harder to open the door. 

"Y/N! Y/N! Come on, Singer! Talk to me!!" Dean yelled. 

"Kat, it's not going to hurt you." Sam said, stepping up to the door. 

"Bullshit! It hurt her!" Kat yelled, Dean's heart pounding in his chest, needing more than anything to get to you. 

"Listen to me. You've got to face it. You've got to calm down." Sam calmly said. 

"She's gotta what?!" Dean asked, turning to Sam. "It's already done something to Y/N, and now you want her to face it?" 

"I have to what?!" Kat yelled. 

"These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us. They're trying to communicate. You gotta face it. You gotta listen to it." Sam explained. 

"Tell that to the comatose girl in here. You face it!!" Kat yelled. 

"No! It's the only way to get out of there." Sam said. 

"NO!" Kat yelled. 

"Do you really think the door will open if she does it?" Dean asked Sam, Sam nodding. 

"Listen to me, Kat." Dean said "I need you to turn around and look at the son of a bitch, okay? Find out what he wants. That's the only way this door is openin'.  So, just do it. Dean said, aching to get inside. 

"Kat?" Gavin asked, when he didn't hear anything. 

"Man, I hope you're right about this. I gotta get in that fuckin' room." Dean said before waiting in tense silence, the lock clicking before the door slowly opened. 

"Oh, Kat." Gavin said, Kat standing in the doorway. 

Dean pushed by her, rushing into the room and kneeling down by your side. You were just sitting there, your back against the wall, a blank expression on your face. 

"Y/N. Y/N." Dean said, grabbing your shoulders. "Come on, Singer." he said, his hands coming up to your face, one on each cheek. 

Your eyes were open, but you weren't looking at him. You were staring straight through him, somewhere far, far away from there. 

Sam walked into the room to see Dean taking you into his arms, his back against the wall as he clutched you to his chest. 

Sam crouched down next to Dean, thinking to himself that he couldn't remember a time when he had see Dean look so scared. 

"What do I do, Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice breaking. "I...I don't know what to do." 

"It's okay. We're gonna figure this out. She's going to be fine." Sam said before turning back towards the door, "Kat, what did you see? What did it do to her?" Sam asked. 

"I...I don't know." she stammered out, still terrified. 

"Well, think God damn it!!!" Dean roared, Kat jumping back. 

"Dean!" Sam barked. "That's not gonna help." he said before turning back to Kat. "Just try to think, okay. Anything you can remember could help." Sam said. 

"He...he...just touched her. She was trying to get something out of her pocket, I think, but it was too late. He touched her, and she...she just stopped. I...I don't know she was just standing there looking at him, and then she just slid down the wall." Kat said, Dean looking down to see your gloves halfway out of your pocket. 

"Okay, so he probably didn't possess her. He just touched her." Sam said, looking down at you, waving his hand in front of your face. "Kat, did you see where he touched her?" Sam asked. 

"He just grabbed her hand, I think." Kat replied. 

"Okay, maybe he was trying to show her something." Sam said, more to himself than to Dean. 

"No, somethin's wrong. She...she shouldn't still be like this. She said it stops when she isn't touching something, and she's not fuckin' touching anything." Dean said, panic in his voice. 

"Dean, I need you to calm down." Sam said, his own worry and fear for you pushed to the back burner. "Ok, she did something like this when we were in Kansas, remember? She, uh, touched something in the closet and then kind of just zoned out." Sam said, Dean nodding his head. "So, what did you do then? You got her to snap out of it." 

"I didn't do anything. I just talked to her, said her name a couple times." Dean said. 

"Try it again." Sam said. 

"I tried that, Sam! It didn't fuckin' work!" Dean yelled. 

Sam took your hand in his, "Hey, Y/N, we need you to wake up." he said, your eyes still wide open, not blinking. "Come on, Y/N. You can do it, just wake up." 

Dean took hold of your other hand the best he could while still trying to hold you, "Hey, come on, Singer. You can't do this. We need you. You know that. We'd both be lost without you. I mean, who'd save our asses? So, just snap out of it." Dean said, both him and Sam slipping into silence when you didn't respond. 

"He's right Y/N. We need you. I...I need you. I know we aren't as close as we used to be, and that's my fault, but I want to get back there. So, just make your way back here. If anyone can do it, it's you. We're waiting for you." Sam thought to himself, still holding onto your hand. 

"Singer, I know you're in there somewhere, and I got to believe that you can hear me. Come on, Y/N, just do something...give me some sort of sign here." Dean thought, looking down at you to see you in the same state. "Come on, Baby, don't do this to me. You...you can't do this to me. You said you weren't going anywhere. You promised. So , I need you to snap the fuck out of it, and get your ass back here. I need...I need you. Please, just please, wake up." Dean thought, your eyes starting to flutter. 

"Dean! Look!" Sam yelled, both of them looking down at you.  "Y/N?" Sam asked, Dean holding his breath. 

"Stop thinking." you finally said. "I...can't hear you when you both think at the same fuckin' time." you said, Sam smiling a relieved smile as Dean pulled you into a hug, crushing you against his chest, as he released the breath he had been holding. 

"You scared the shit outta us, Singer." Dean said, refusing to let you go. 

"Is...is somethin' wrong with the car?" you asked, your eyes closed as you tried to center yourself. 

"No, no. The car's fine." Dean said, giving Sam a confused look. 

"Did you see something about the car?" Sam asked, just as confused as Dean. 

"No, but I heard Dean say something about Baby not doing something, so I just thought..." you said, trailing off, Dean not even bothering to look embarrassed. 

"Y/N, what happened?" Sam asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

"Give her a minute, Sam." Dean snapped, still holding onto you. 

You opened your eyes, "I was there...at the riot. I saw it. I...I felt it. 137. We got to go to room 137." you said, your thoughts still a little jumbled. 

"137?" Kat asked from the doorway. "That's what it whispered in my ear before the door opened. 137." she said. 

"That's what he wanted me to see, but I...I don't know. It was...I think he was taking me there, but then he let go of my hand and I couldn't see anything anymore. I could...I could just feel. I could feel all of their emotions, but it was just black. It's like I was trapped inside my own fuckin' head, and I couldn't find my way out. I could only focus on what they were feeling and I couldn't get back." you said, Dean holding onto you tighter. 

"It's okay. You're back now. I've got ya. I'll always get you back." Dean said, rocking you side to side. 

"I know you will. I know." you said, pulling back from him, "We have to go to room 137. I have to see this through." you said, pulling your gloves from your pocket and slipping them on. 

"Nothing I say is gonna change your mind, is it?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer. 

"No. I...I have to do this, Dean. I can't just go hide in a corner, scared, somewhere. I just...I need to do this." you said. 

"Fine." Dean said, even though it was the last thing he wanted to say. "Room 137, it is. But, you're putting those gloves on, and you're not taking them off no matter what. And, you're gonna stay right by my side like we're fuckin' glued together. Are we clear? I need to know that you're gonna actually listen to me for once." Dean said. 

"Ok. We're clear. The gloves stay on, and I stay with you." you said before wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "Take a breath, De. I'm fine. I'm just fine." you whispered in his ear, feeling him take a deep breath seconds later. 

You, Sam, and Dean were crouched against the wall where Gavin and Kat couldn't over hear. 

"Alright. So, if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone..."Sam trailed off. 

"Then, what are they trying to do?" Dean asked. 

"There's something that they want us to know, that they want us to see." you said. 

"Well, I guess, we'll find out." Dean said before looking over to you. "Gloves?" 

"Gloves." you said, holding your hands up so he could see. 

"Alright." Sam said, nodding his head. 

The three of you walked back over to Kat and Gavin, "So, now, are you guys ready to leave this place?" Dean asked. 

"That's an understatement." Kat said. 

"Okay." Dean said, turning to Sam. "You get them outta here. We're going to go find room 137." Dean said, Sam nodding his head, knowing that Dean needed to keep you with him. 

Sam was leading Kat and Gavin down a hallway, "So, how do you guys know about all this ghost stuff?" she asked. 

"It's kinda our job." Sam replied. 

"Why would anyone want a job like that?" she asked. 

Sam huffed a laugh, "I had a crappy guidance counselor." he said. 

"And Y/N and Dean? Are they..." Kat trailed off. 

Sam sighed, "It's complicated." he said. "They don't know what they are, but I like to call it denial." 

"And are they your bosses?" Kat asked. 

"No." Sam said, looking down at her, a little bothered by the question. 

You and Dean were walking down a hallway, both of you shining your flashlights on the doors, looking for room 137, Dean glancing over at you every few seconds. 

"De, I'm fine. you don't have to keep looking." you said, your flashlight landing on room 137. "There we go." 

Dean pushed against the door, using his weight to push aside the broken furniture blocking it, finally getting it open. 

The two of you walked inside noticing that the room was a complete mess, filing cabinets pushed over, papers everywhere, the walls stained. 

"Well, guess we should start lookin'." you said, flipping through some folders lying in a cabinet. 

The two of you were still searching and you were starting to get discouraged that neither of you had found anything yet. You looked over in Dean's direction to seem him running his hands along the wall. 

Dean happened upon a loose panel and pried it off, finding a satchel full of papers behind it, "This is why I get paid the big bucks." he said, waving the satchel at you. 

"I'll stroke your ego later. Let's open it." you said, pulling up a chair. 

"I got somethin' else you could stroke." Dean said, wiggling his eyebrows at you, trying to make you laugh. 

You threw your head back, laughing loudly before looking up at him, "Pretty sure that would chafe like a bitch." you said, wiggling your gloved fingers at him, Dean laughing as he pulled up a chair next to you. 

You opened the satchel, a journal with many notes and hand drawn pictures of medical instruments inside. "Well, that's just fuckin' creepy." you said before you started to read over the notes, "It's like a fuckin' how to manual." 

"Yeah, well, all work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy." Dean said, a noise making both of you look up quickly. 

Sam was moving back down a hallway towards Gavin and Kat, "Alright, I've looked everywhere. There's no other way out." he said. 

"So, what the hell are we gonna do?" Gavin asked, panicked. 

"Well, for starters. We're not gonna panic." Sam said. 

"Why the hell not?" Gavin asked, Sam's phone ringing before he could reply. 

"Hey." Sam said. 

"Sam, it's me. I see it. It's coming for us." Dean said, the connection bad. 

"Where are you?" Sam asked. 

"We're in the basement. Hurry up!" Dean said, Sam hanging up the phone before looking over at Kat and Gavin.

Sam quickly instructed Kat on how to use the shotgun, telling her to be ready to shoot before making his way to the basement. 

"Dean! Y/N!" Sam called out, searching through hallways and rooms, his flashlight flickering and fading, a door behind him swinging open. 

Sam raised his gun and approached carefully, "Dean? Y/N?" he asked. 

A shadow moved behind a ragged curtain, catching his attention. Sam pulled the curtain back expecting to see someone, but finding nothing. 

He turned back around, an old, beaten up man with ragged hair and clothes was standing before him. The man grabbed Sam's face, his hand starting to glow. 

"Don't be afraid. I'm going to make you all better." the man said. 

You and Dean were coming around the corner, Dean seeing Kat just as she pulled the trigger. Dean grabbed you and threw the both of you back around the corner just in time. 

"What the fuck?!" you yelled. 

"Damn it. Damn it, don't shoot. It's us." Dean said, both of you still against the wall. 

"Sorry. Sorry." Kat said. 

"Son of a..." Dean said, coming around the corner, looking at the marks on the wall. 

"What the hell are you two still doing here?" you asked, looking at Kat and Gavin. 

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked when he noticed he wasn't there. 

"He went to the basement. You called him." Gavin said. 

"I didn't call anybody." Dean said. 

"Oh, fuck." you breathed out, knowing that this couldn't be good. 

"His cell phone rang. He said it was you." Kat said. 

"Basement, huh?" Dean asked, looking over to you. 

"Basement." you said. 

"Alright." Dean said, grabbing some extra weapons. "Watch yourselves...and watch out for us." he said before the two of you headed to the basement. 

"Sammy? Sam, you down here? Sam? Sam!" Dean called out. 

"Come on, Sam!!" you yelled, Dean turning to see Sam standing right in front of him. 

Dean jumped back, automatically raising his gun, "Man, answer us when we're calling you! You alright?" he asked. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam answered. 

"You sure?" you asked, looking him over, something seeming off about him. 

"Yeah, I'm sure." Sam said. 

"You know it wasn't me who called your cell, right?" Dean asked. 

"Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here." Sam said. 

"Well, you're right about that." you said. 

"I think we know who, Dr. Ellicott." Dean said. 

"That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. I think that's what that one wanted me to see." you said. 

"You haven't seen him, have you?" Dean asked Sam. 

"No. How do you guys know it was him?" Sam asked. 

"Dean found his log book." you said. 

"Apparently he was experimenting on his patients, awful stuff, makes lobotomies look like a couple of aspirin." Dean said. 

"Yeah, real fucked up shit." you said, shaking your head. 

"But it was the patients who rioted." Sam said. 

"Well, can you blame them, Sam?" you asked. 

"Yeah, they were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it." Dean said. 

"Instead, it fuckin' backfired and only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So, we're thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? You know, being a dick even in the after life." you said. 

"Think about it, the cop, the kids in the seventies. He was making them so angry that they became homicidal. Come on, we gotta find his bones and torch 'em." Dean said. 

"How? The police never found his body." Sam said. 

"The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere, where he'd work on his patients." Dean said. 

"I know if I was a patient I'd drag his ass down here, do a little work on him myself, give him a taste of his own fuckin' medicine." you said.

"I don't know. It sounds kinda..." Sam trailed off. 

"Crazy?" Dean filled in. 

"Yeah." Sam said. 

"Yeah. Exactly." Dean said. 

Dean opened another door, and looked inside before gesturing with his head for you and Sam to follow. 

"I told you guys. I didn't find a hidden room." Sam said, you and Dean checking the walls. 

"Well, that's why they call it hidden." Dean said. 

"You hear that?" you asked, what sounded like wind catching your attention, Dean nodding his head. 

"What?" Sam nervously asked, as you and Dean looked around. 

"There's a door here." Dean said, crouching down and holding his hand out, you quickly joining his side. 

"Dean. Y/N." Sam said, pointing his gun at the two of you, a trickle of blood running from his nose. "Step back from the door." 

"What the fuck are you doin', Sam?" you asked, your eyes on the gun as you stood up. 

"Sam, put the gun down." Dean said, rising to his feet. 

"Is that an order?" Sam asked. 

"Nah, it's more of a friendly request." Dean said. 

"Listen to him, Sam, put the fuckin' gun down." you said. 

"'Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders." Sam said to Dean before turning to you, "Both of your orders." 

"I knew it. Ellicott did something to you." Dean said. 

"For once in your life just shut your mouth." Sam said, "That's all both of you do....talk." 

"What are you gonna do, Sam? Guns filled with rock salt. It's not gonna kill us." Dean said. 

Sam pulled the trigger, shooting Dean in the chest, the shot blasting him backwards through the hidden door. 

"God damn it, Sam!" you yelled, looking behind you, trying to see Dean, Sam now aiming the gun at you. 

"It may not kill you, but it will hurt like hell." he said, you turning just in time to see him pull the trigger. 

You and Dean were both lying on the floor, both gasping for air after coming to. 

"I...can't wait...to roast that motherfucker." you panted out, Dean looking over at you, making sure you were okay. 

"Sam!" he said, Sam standing over the two of you. "We gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal." Dean said. 

"I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? Cause you're following Dad's orders, and she's too scared to disappoint you and say anything. That's why she never goes against you. You always do what Dad says without question, and then she does what you say, like a trained dog. Are you that desperate for Dad's approval, Dean? Are you that desperate for Dean's, Y/N?" Sam asked. 

"Fuck you." you spat out, looking up at him. 

Sam chuckled, "Oh, here we go, the whole I'm so tough act. The I'm not scared of anything bullshit you always pull. Yeah, we can see right through that, Y/N. You aren't fooling anyone, just yourself. We both know that you're scared, scared that Dean's gonna realize what a freak you really are and toss you aside." Sam said, looking down at you. 

"Like I said, fuck you." you seethed. 

"This isn't you talking, Sam." Dean said. 

"That's the difference between you guys and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic like you two." Sam said.

"So, what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill us?" Dean asked. 

"You know what, I am sick of doing what you guys tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago." Sam said. 

"Well, then here. Let me make it easy for you." Dean said, holding out his gun to Sam. "Come on. Take it." Dean said. 

"Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt." you said, going along with Dean, knowing that he had something up his sleeve. 

"Take it!!" Dean yelled, Sam taking the gun and pointing it at Dean. "You hate us that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Your best friend? Then go ahead, pull the trigger. Do it!!" Dean yelled. 

Sam pulled the trigger, but the chamber was empty. He tried again, and then once more, the result the same every time, giving Dean enough time to hit Sam, knocking him to the ground. 

Both you and Dean got to your feet, Dean moving to stand over Sam, "Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded pistol." Dean said, Sam glaring up at him. 

Dean delivered a vicious right cross to knock Sam out, almost falling over as he did so. "Sorry, Sammy." he said, patting Sam. 

"Alright, let's go find those fuckin' bones and get this shit over with." you said, the two of you starting to look around the room. 

"You know, you didn't seemed too freaked back there when I handed Sam my gun. You kinda just went with it." Dean said. 

You shrugged your shoulders, "What can I say? I trust you." you said, noticing a bit of something sticking out of a closed cupboard, "I figured you had a plan." you added, nudging Dean to get his attention. 

Dean moved closer to the cupboard and opened the door to find a mummified corpse, both of you flinching back and gagging. 

"Jesus fucking Christ." you said. 

"Oh, that's just gross." Dean said before salting the body. "Soak it up." 

Dean dropped the salt container, and you passed him a small tin of kerosene. He squirted the body, both of you completely oblivious to the presence behind you until a gurney came flying across the room, knocking both of you to the ground. 

Dr. Ellicott appeared in front of both of you, and reached down to grab Dean's face, his hand lighting up, "Don't be afraid. I'm going to help you. I'm going to make you feel all better." Ellicott said. 

You crawled over to Dean's bag, quickly finding his lighter. You flicked it open and struck it before tossing it onto the mummified body. 

Dr. Ellicott let go of Dean as his remains started to burn, Dean crawling out of the way, both of you watching as Ellicott's ghost turned black before falling to the ground and crumbling on impact. 

"Take that...you crazy fuck." you said, Dean collapsing on the floor next to you. 

"Thanks, Singer." he said. 

"Anytime, De." you said, patting his arm, Sam starting to wake up. 

You and Dean looked over at him as he flexed his jaw painfully. 

"You're not going to try to kill us, are ya?" Dean asked. 

Sam raised his hand to push at his jaw, "No." he said. 

"Good...because that would be fuckin' awkward." you said. 

The three of you were standing outside the asylum with Kat and Gavin, the sun shining brightly overhead. 

"Thanks, guys." Kat said. 

"Yeah, thanks." Gavin quickly added. 

"No more haunted asylums, okay?" Dean said. 

"Yeah, the next time you're looking for a date idea go with pizza, beer, and Zeppelin IV." you said, missing the way Dean's mouth turned up at the corner. 

The three of you stood back and watched Kat and Gavin walk away, giving them one final wave goodbye before turning to the Impala. 

"Hey, guys?" Sam said, you and Dean turning to look at him. 

"I'm sorry. I said some awful things back there." Sam said, looking at the two of you apologetically. 

"You remember all that?" Dean asked. 

"Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it, but I didn't mean any of it." Sam said. 

"You didn't, huh?" you asked, eyeing Sam, still feeling a little salty. 

"No, of course not! Do we need to talk about this?" Sam asked. 

"No, I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep." Dean said. 

"Yeah, me too." you said, climbing into the car. 

The three of you checked into a motel, the boys letting you grab the first shower this time. 

You walked out about fifteen minutes later, "Next." you said, pulling on your gloves as you sat down on the end of the bed. 

"Go ahead, Sam." Dean said, Sam getting up to walk to the bathroom. 

Dean turned to you once Sam closed the bathroom door, "How bad did he get ya?" he asked. 

"I'm fine. I've had worse." you said, Dean coming to sit next to you. 

"Let me see." he said. 

"I told you...I'm fine." you said, not wanting to worry him. 

"Please?" he asked, needing to see for himself that you were okay. 

You flopped back on the bed, sighing dramatically as you lifted your shirt, pulling it up just enough for him to see where you got hit, the shot hitting you right at the apex of your ribcage. 

"See, just fine." you said, Dean ghosting his fingers over the already forming bruise. 

Dean let out a slow breath, leaning down until his forehead rested on your stomach, his hands on either side of your waist, "Hey, I'm fine, okay? Just fine." you said, again, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. 

"I...you just really scared me." he said, turning his head to the side, still laying it on your stomach. 

"I'm sorry." you said, your fingers moving to card through the hair on the back of his head, Dean raising his head to look up at you. 

"I thought...I thought..." Dean said, trailing off, unable to say the words, his hands gripping your harder. 

"Hey, I told you before that I wasn't going anywhere and I meant it." you said, the bathroom door opening, Dean quickly sitting up. 

"I, uh, saved you some hot water." Sam said to Dean, trying not to look at you or his brother as you pulled your shirt down. 

Dean looked over to you, as if he was asking your permission, "Go." you mouthed, Dean standing up and walking to the bathroom. 

You moved up in the bed once the bathroom door closed, pulling back the covers before laying down on your side of the bed. 

"Y/N, I really didn't mean that stuff." Sam quietly said. 

"I know. Don't worry about it, Sammy. Everything's fine. Let's just get some sleep." you said before turning away from him. 

You felt Dean's side of the bed dip a few minutes later, the lights in the room already out. He crawled into bed beside you and pulled you back into him, his arm coming to wrap around your waist, almost as if he was scared to not be touching you. 

You could feel how tense he was, "Hey." you said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, "Relax, okay? Everything's fine. Get some sleep, De. I'll still be here in the morning." you said, Dean still holding you tightly to him, but you could feel his body start to relax.

The three of you were sleeping, you and Dean tangled up in each other as a phone started to ring. 

"Dean." Sam said, Dean not moving. 

Sam frowned and grabbed Dean's phone from the night stand before checking the number and flipping it open. 

"Hello." Sam said, listening a moment before sitting up straight in bed, "Dad?" 

A/N: I just want to say a big thank you to everyone that takes the time to read this. I really appreciate it.  I love hearing what you guys have to say. I'm a socially awkward train wreck, so I may not always reply, but I want you all to know that I truly appreciate each and every one of you. <3 <3

Tags: @miraclesoflove @22sarah08 @deans-baby-momma @spnae @karikatz12481 @spngirl05 @winchester-fantasies @freddiemermaytaydeac​ @rainbowkisses31​  @in-deans-arms​ @scentedhoundshepherdmoney​ @teamfreewillisbae​ @it-could-go-off​ @moonlight-on-her-skin​

[thevioletjones]

36 and 58

Looks like these involve a lotta meet-cutes. Lmao. Ok, I scrapped the #36 “Established relationship,” because it didn’t fit with any of the other requests really. I’ve combined #58 with a request from @tarantula-teeth for #16, which gives us...

Space AU / Innocent Physical Contact

“God… fucking… dammit!” Ian cussed as he smashed his finger into the same button over and over and over again. He then moved to toggling the switch next to it on and off and back and forth fruitlessly. “Piece of shit… motherfucker!”

Somewhere over his shoulder, a mellifluous, sarcastic whistle sounded long and loud as it approached. “Problem officer?”

“Officer?” Ian asked incredulously before turning around in his chair. “I’m not an officer, I’m a pilot.”

The guy in front of him was short, with dark hair, but pale skin, and he was wearing a maintenance jumpsuit.

“My bad. This is my first gig on this particular spaceship. All you different crews have your own titles and semantics, but it’s none of my business really. Just tell me what you want me to call you.”

Ian’s brow furrowed. “Who are you and why are you talking to me right now?”

The guy pursed his lips and scratched at his eyebrow. “Think it’s pretty obvious that I’m a repair guy… from engineering?”

“I didn’t call for a repairman.”

“No, but your boss did,” the guy replied, thumb indicating an older gentleman across the deck.

Ian bent his head around and caught the captain’s eye, receiving a cheeky smirk and a knowing nod. Ian looked back at Mickey and rolled his eyes.

“Look…” he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Mickey,” the maintenance guy answered.

“Mickey… I think I can handle this. I’m about to run some diagnostics, and in the meantime,” he glanced at his co-pilot to the right, “Russ here has perfectly good control of the ship.”

“Uh huh,” said Mickey with a condescending little smile. “Well, that’s not really gonna work for me, see… the captain is the captain, and he ordered my boss, the head engineer, to send someone to fix this for you. Guess that means he knew you couldn’t handle this sorta repair on your own. Anyway, you can make yourself scarce for a while, since you’re not actually flying anything.”

Ian’s mouth dropped open. He was usually treated with reverence aboard the ship. At the very least, people respected him. He was the fucking pilot, after all. They put their lives in his hands every day. Yeah, he was part of a team, but he was like the first in the frontline whenever shit went sideways. Maybe he wasn’t the captain, or the commander, but he still couldn’t help but silently think of the craft as his ship. And he wasn’t about to wander off on a long break and let this yahoo he didn’t even know have free reign of his gear board and equipment.

“If you think I’m going anywhere while you work on my station, you’re outta your fuckin’ mind, pal.”

Mickey chortled. “Pal? What’re you gonna call me next? Buddy? Champ?” He casually pushed past Ian and dropped his case to the floor. “You wanna hover around over me, be my guest, but keep your damn trap shut and let me do my job, alright Sparky?”

Ian tried his best not to fume, but he wasn’t entirely successful. Still, he managed to stay quiet as he watched Mickey arrange his tools and open the circuit board beneath the console. He was actually fascinated with the mechanical guts of the spacecraft, but he’d always been terrible at anything remotely mathematical, and couldn’t make it into engineering school no matter how hard he’d studied. When it came to ships, he could work it all, but he didn’t know exactly how it worked, and that was frustrating as hell at times like these. Knowing the theory wasn’t enough.

Mickey worked quietly for over an hour, never daring to say a word to Ian, despite his watchful presence. Occasionally, he would accidentally brush against Ian’s leg, and that sent him into a tailspin thinking about how long it’d been since he’d gotten any, followed by wondering why the hell he was thinking about sex just because some repair guy grazed him through his clothes, culminating in deep frustration that he had no prospects to speak of on this entire ship-full of 2,000 plus people.

If his horniness was making him long for this random dude that clearly didn’t like him at all, he was definitely in a bad way.

“I’m gonna need to solder this, and I didn’t bring my kit for that, so I’ll be back in like 15. Think you can handle it, coppertop?” Mickey said, breaking Ian’s reverie.

“My name’s Ian,” he responded tersely. “See you in 15.”

Mickey smiled at him then, and it didn’t even seem sarcastic. Ian didn’t know how to react, so he just blinked and turned away to grab his handheld computer. He spent the minutes waiting on Mickey answering messages from his family back on New Earth.

Once the soldering was about to be underway, Ian was eager to observe again, and Mickey tossed him a face mask without a word before he got started.

Another hour later, and everything was patched up and properly reassembled, the little buttons and switches working the way they were supposed to again. Ian still had a few hours left on shift, and Mickey hung back to watch as the control was shifted back to the main board, from the co-pilot’s station.

After a good ten minutes of smooth sailing, Ian switched to auto and stood up to reach out for the engineer’s hand. “Looking good. Thank you, Mickey.”

Mickey gave him an almost coquettish once over. “Same, Gallagher.”

“Oh, so you know who I am now?”

Mickey shrugged. “You’re the pilot. I knew who you were before I came down here.”

“Coulda fooled me,” said Ian, noticing that their hands were still clasped. He looked down at them, then back up into Mickey’s eyes. They were a sparkling, pretty shade of blue.

“Act like a dick, get treated like one,” Mickey replied.

Ian gasped and let his hand fall. “You were the one being a dick, not me.”

Mickey rubbed his nose and reached into his pocket, pulling out a genuine piece of paper and a pen. Ian hadn’t seen anyone use those in years.

He scribbled something down quickly and handed the paper to Ian.

“Block E, number 492,” Ian read aloud.

“That’s my cabin number, pilot boy. Maybe you wanna come over for a nightcap later.” His impeccably arched eyebrow left no room for misunderstanding.

Ian tittered breathily. “I think I just might.”

[ludi-ling]

Crazy Eights

Well, here it is, a little treat for my followers - the first chapter of Crazy 8′s, the sequel to 52 Pickup. I’m sharing since it’s Day 7 (AU) of Rogue/Gambit Week 2020. I don’t know if I’ll ever finish this story, even though I got a fair way through it, since I wrote myself into a corner, and I’m not sure I like it very much. But I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy!

Crazy Eights

Chapter 1

               Thieving 101.

               Simplest rule in the book.

               Don’t get caught.

               I can hear pere’s voice in my head, clear as day, literally beatin’ the words into all of us, his snotty-nosed, grass-stain-scuffed li’l Fagin’s gang.

               Don’t. Get. Caught.

               And then his face, leaning in towards mine, grinning, saying:

               Unless, o’ course, you have a reason t’get caught.

               Yeah, that was mon pere, full of good, subtle ideas. He’d usually direct them at me cos he knew I was like the worst kind of sponge. I’d be soakin’ all that shit up, swimmin’ in it like a gator swims in swamp water.  As a kid, I’d always figured he was just picking on me. As an adult, I realise all he was doing was laying down challenges, cos he knew this punk-ass kid would rise to the bait every time, pushing every damn boundary he could along the way.

               You got potential, boy. But you got no discipline. Always halfway t’ bein’ in a rage, t’ ventin’ it out on some poor trash. You play de con, kid, you live de con. No heart-on-your-sleeve shit.  Dat stays inside. Cos y’know what? Folks can read dat crap a mile away.

               “C’mon, pretty boy,” the man to my right grunts, as the alarms I’ve set off still scream all around us. “Getcha arse in gear. The boss don’t take kindly to waitin’.”

               He prods me in the back with the barrel of his gun, a little too sharply than is strictly necessary; but I get it, he has a job to do, and actin’ mean is part of it.

               “Yeah, well, that’s what bosses are like, mon ami,” I answer with a smirk. “Never got time for nothin’. Mebbe you should think about goin’ freelance, neh?  It has its advantages.  No calls at unsociable hours… Don’t gotta do all the dirty work y’self… Get t’ have a couple of pretty femmes hangin’ on your every word… Still. I reckon mebbe you two ain’t smart ’nuff yet t’ graduate from the ol’ ‘Crime Boss 101’ course, am I right?”

               “Hey!” The guy to my left gives me a crack on the back of the head with what I assume is also the barrel of a gun. “Shut the fuck up!”

               See? Boring, predictable, run-of-the-mill flunkies. These couyons ain’t never gon’ make it past mid-tier bodyguard material.

               And those alarms are still screaming.  Ain’t some asshole gon’ shut it off already?  It’s givin’ me a headache.

               Whatever. I do as I’m told and shut the fuck up. Mostly because I’m busy scanning the décor of this corridor we appear to be walking down.  The walls are lined with paintings, a mess of eras and styles that could tell anyone with an ounce of taste that whoever’s collecting this shit has none.  Taste, that is.  All it tells me is that this guy has cash, and he don’t mind throwin’ it ’round.  We walk past a Cezanne, and I grimace.

               Hang on in there, li’l guy, I say to myself as we sweep right by it. One o’these days I’m gonna free you.  Soon.

               Cos let’s face it.

               You think I’m gonna leave a Cezanne to rot in Cain Marko’s fuckin’ playboy mansion when it could be on my wall?

               I think not.

               We get to the end of the corridor and, thankfully, as soon as we do, someone finally finds the off switch to the alarms. My lovely escorts throw open the burnished oak doors that I can only assume lead to Marko’s private hidey-hole; and before I have a chance to admire the woodwork, I’m being pushed inside in yet another unnecessary show of who’s boss.  I stumble a little over the threshold, and there he is.  Cain Marko, kingpin of London town.  A big, ugly, concrete slab of a man with a mat of red hair and a jaw like a foot.  He’s sitting on a burgundy-red velvet sofa that looks to be late Victorian.  Possibly a Chippendale? Something to research later.  True to form, he has a girl on each knee.

               Crimes bosses.  I toldja so.  Predictably borin’.  Boringly predictable.

               “Well, well,” Marko greets me with a menacing grimace and a Cockney rasp. “Robert Lord.  Your reputation precedes you.  Finally, we get to meet face ta face.”

               It’s at that point that Jake decides to kick in, a harassed voice in my earpiece, hissing: “Remy? Remy, where the fuck are you? Is everything okay?”

               I jerk my head to one side and Jake’s panicked questioning cuts out.

               “Yeah,” I address the man on the sofa. “Coulda been under better circumstances, though. Don’t much care for bein’ kicked around and chained up.” I clink the restraints at my wrists and ankles meaningfully. “Unless, o’ course, it’s consensual and there’s a woman involved.”

               An ugly grin crosses Marko’s face.  He shifts a little and pats each girl on the ass; they get the message and get to their feet, tottering out on stilettos that take a certain art to walk in – neither of them have it.

               “Well,” Marko says with mock disappointment as he, too, gets to his feet. “If ya wanted to meet under better circumstances, you coulda made a less shitty attempt to rob me, Mr. Lord.  I’d heard you were supposed to be some thief extraordinaire, but you ask me? You, breakin’ into my safe? That was pretty fuckin’ amateurish.”

               “Hey,” I banter back good-naturedly as I watch him walk over to the bar and pour himself a drink. “I got through most of your li’l traps jes’ fine, mon ami.  You wanna talk amateurish, let’s talk ‘bout your alarms. They’re more fuckin’ painful than Tante Mattie boxin’ me onna ears.  And it takes too long to shut ‘em off.  Either that, or your flunkies are too stupid to figure out how.”

               Marko, who’d looked half-amused up to this point, lets his mouth drop into a disdainful sneer.

               “Y’know somethin’, yank?” he growls at me, turning back from the bar. “You talk too fuckin’ much.”

               I raise a wounded eyebrow at him.

               “Yank? Hey, now you’re just insultin’ me.”

               “Oh really?” He laughs; and I take back the comment about his alarm system. This is worse. “Mr. Lord, insults are gonna be the least of your problems tonight. No one steals from Cain Marko and gets to just walk out again. You picked the wrong house to rob, mate.  This is one job you ain’t walkin’ out of.”

               He lifts his chin slightly and calls out:

               “Klein?!”

               There’s no answer, and he gives an irate little pause, looks over his shoulder and says again:

               “Klein?! Where the fuck are you?”

               “I’m here,” a woman’s voice replies from a darkened corner, her presence so unexpected it even causes me to jump.

               “Fuck me, woman,” Marko rasps at her. “How long you been standin’ there?”

               The woman says nothing, simply stepping out from her corner.  I realise there’s a door there.  It’s impossible to say whether she’d just walked through, or whether she’d been there all along.  Marko ain’t big on lighting.  Which is a shame, ‘cos Klein is a woman to be looked at.  Mile long legs and a figure to get all wrapped up in.  Brunette hair scraped back into a bun that begs to be loosened. A glance like wildfire.

               “Sorry,” she says with a small twist of humour, all delivered in a perfectly delicious and proper English accent.  I feel some sorta expression begin to form on my face; an appreciative little smile begins to shift round my lips.

               Forget pretty girls tottering around in sexy stilettos they can’t walk in.  This is a woman.

               She glances over at me, then back at her boss with an expectant expression.

               “This shit thief stole me old lady’s engagement ring.” He takes a cellphone out his back pocket and stares at it. “Lesse how fast you can find it for me.”

               Klein don’t waste time mincing words.  Unlike the two couyons behind me, she’s calm, quiet, efficient.  She marches on up with a roll of the hips that’s entirely unconscious.  When she’s finally in front of me, I catch a whiff of her perfume – a barely-there scent that’s not quite fruity and not quite flowery.

               I cock my head to one side and hitch her a smile.

               She doesn’t take the bait.  Her expression is composed as she sizes me up, wondering where to start.  It’s as if she hasn’t even noticed my smile at all.

           “Be gentle, chere,” I quip.

              That’s when she raises her eyes and gives me a look – part disinterested, part unimpressed. Her facade is almost frosty, but it don’t fool me. Beneath the cargo pants and the bomber jacket and the unadorned face, there’s a something to this woman. It’s in the sway of her hips and the sensuousness of her scent. It’s in a whole lot more besides.

              She frisks me in all the usual places, and, Goddamn, her hands alone are enough to set me on fire. Her movements are precise, clinical... yet as insinuating as the touch of a lover.

              Did I mention yet I haven't had sex in 8 fucking weeks?

              She gets on her knees and runs her palms down my legs, and it’s almost more than I can take.

              “While you’re down there, chere...” I can’t help but say; and she pauses, looks up at me with steely eyes and says... Nothing.

              Her gaze fixes on my fly like it’s the only option left, and now we’re talkin’.

              She holds eye contact as she raises both hands, and thumbs open the button of my pants. Her look is impassive; but there’s an undercurrent there, a something that’s signalling to me loud and clear. She unzips my fly slow as a strip tease, and that’s when the shadow of a smile flickers across her face – a brief split second of something more, something to work with.

              Jesus Christ, I’m holding my breath.

              She knows what I’m thinking. She rises to full height and this time she doesn’t bother to hide the smile. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

              “Thought you were s’pposed t’be lookin’ for contraband, p’tite,” I can't help but drawl. The comment wipes the smile from her lips and her gaze drops. She yanks open my fly and within a few short seconds she’s found the fob pocket hidden inside the waistband of my pants. Another split second later and she’s found the ring.

              She turns and flashes it triumphantly at Marko.

              “You made record time, Klein,” he observes approvingly, glancing up from his phone. “Twelve seconds. I’m impressed.”

              Twelve seconds? I swear it coulda been a lifetime...

              She throws the ring to her boss and I watch on, with a wistful sense of loss, as it arcs across the room and into his hand. Oh well. Next time, maybe.

              “If you’re done, chere,” I pipe up behind her, “mebbe you could zip me up again? O’ course, if you ain’t, we can always take dis somewhere a li’l more private... ...”

              I hadn’t exactly been expecting an answer, so I’m doubly taken off guard when she whips round and socks me hard with a fist to the face.

              I totter a bit, tasting blood and seeing stars.

              Damn, this woman packs a punch!

              In the background, Marko’s laughing raucously.

              “Looks like you chose the wrong woman t’ try and charm, yank.”

              Seriously? Enough with the ‘yank’ thing already!

              I grit my teeth and scowl as he continues:

              “Zip ’im up, Klein. I can afford to be charitable to trespassers. I think we can let him leave here with his dignity, if not his life. He has taste after all. Me old ma’s engagement ring,” and he grins sardonically over at me, “is my favourite piece outta my entire collection.”

              Klein obediently turns around and zips me up with more force than necessary. No more smiles and subtle flirtation. She doesn’t even look at me.

              “Sentimental value,” Marko is saying, turning the ring between thumb and forefinger as he approaches me. “That’s what this ring has, Mr. Lord. Me old ma woulda been turnin’ in her grave if I lost it. Specially to some shitty low-feeder like you.”

              I lick the blood from my lip slowly. Low-feeder, huh? This guy is really throwing out them punches tonight.

              “Yeah, I getcha,” I retort with a sarcastic grin. “Momma woulda slapped ya t’ kingdom come if you ever messed wit’ her jewellery. Beat you wit’ a belt, prob’ly, told ya you were a good f’nothin’ piece o’ shit, I’m willin’ t’bet. Sure, I can read a mommy complex a mile away, homme, and you got it bad.”

              I dunno what’s gotten inta me tonight. Or maybe I do. Frustration is a thing and a half. I'm fuckin’ wired, and I can’t stop running my damn mouth off. I ain’t usually this lippy. Honestly.

              Anyways, I’m steeling myself for a beating from my End-of-Level-Boss, but surprisingly he don’t take the bait. Judging from his get-up, he’s ready for a night out, and he don’t want my blood soiling his purple Savile Row suit. Which is good for me, ‘cos the rings on his fingers look like they could double up for some pretty nasty knuckle dusters.

              “I take it back,” he sneers down his nose at me. “This bloody yank don’t deserve jack.”

              He sweeps away and grabs his jacket.

              “You’ve been lookin’ t’prove yerself, ain’t’cha, Klein,” he throws over his shoulder at the woman still standing beside me. “Take care of Mr. Lord for me, and consider yerself one of the gang.” He walks over to a side table, pulls open a draw and takes out a gun. When he throws it to her, she catches it like she doesn’t even have to think about it. “Just make sure you keep some suitably gory keepsake for me to remember ’im by. I’m thinkin’ his teeth. He’s got them pearly whites you can only get in ’Murica. It'll remind me of ’is charmin’ smile.”

              He laughs to himself, throws the ring up in the air, catches it, and deposits it into his pocket.

              “Sorry, Mr. Lord,” he addresses me, “but I have places to go and people to kill.  Don’t worry. Klein’ll entertain you in the playpen.” He waves absently at a door to the right. “I’m sure she’s just itchin’ to get her hands on you.”

              He chuckles and heads for the door, followed by one of his henchmen, leaving with a final, gleeful, “So long!”

              The door bangs shut and now it’s just me, Klein, and Henchman #1.

              Wise strategy on Marko’s part, if Ms. Klein is basically untried and untested.  I might break her little heart, and Henchman #1 might have to put me down instead.

              I suppress a laugh at the thought.

              Klein says nothing. She turns abruptly and sticks the barrel of the gun into the small of my back.

              “Move,” she says.  Her voice is deadpan – nothing to work with.

              “Y’know, chere,” I venture conversationally, as I start shuffling over to the door, “I could speed up some if you’d jes’ untie these chains… Then we could get t’ playtime in the playpen a whole lot faster…”

              “Hey, shut up will ya!” Henchmen #1 barks at me, punctuated by a sharp poke in the back by Klein’s gun. All right, all right, already. I get the message.  They hustle me up to the door and next thing I know, I’m being shoved inside.  Henchman #1 shuts the door behind me and I hear the locks thunk shut.  Now it’s just me, and Klein.

              It turns out the playpen could give H. H. Holmes’ hotel of horrors a run for its money. It’s a pokey little room, and someone’s done gone and painted the walls in a nice shade of red and crusty brown. Blood, gore and brain matter.  The whole place stinks of death.  Merde. The light-hearted mood I’ve managed to maintain so far immediately takes a dive.

              “I take it housekeepin’ don't come round often,” I quip in an undertone – hardly as insolent as it could've been, but it earns me a kick up the ass anyway.  I stagger forward under the momentum, turning to face my would-be executioner as I do so.

              She has the gun pointed at me.

              “Chere, I’d put my hands up if they weren’t tied behind my—”

              The gun fires.

              And the bullet hits the wall over my shoulder.

              The crazy femme don’t give me a moment to recover.

              In a flash she’s lowered the gun and is marching right over to me, grabbing the front of my shirt and jerking me down into a hungry kiss.

              “It’s okay,” she whispers when she sees I’m too shocked to respond. “There aren’t any cameras in here.”

              The words are barely out of her mouth and she’s kissing me again. This time I slip easily out of the chains that I’ve been working on ever since they were clapped on me, and as soon as they hit the ground, I let my palms slide up over her cheeks, pulling her closer, deeper into our kiss. Her fingers wind into my hair, tugging lightly; her body presses against mine, reminding me exactly what I’ve been without the past couple of months. I grab handfuls of her perfect ass and pull her in closer.

              God, I’d fuck her right here, right now, if we weren’t in this shithole and this wasn’t a very important job.

              We kiss until we have no air left to breathe.

              “Lord, I’ve missed ya, Remy,” she murmurs against my lips.

              “Mmm, not as much as I’ve missed you,” I answer sincerely, stealing another kiss before adding heatedly, “Eight whole weeks without you, chere... It’s enough t’ drive a man certifiably insane.”

              She laughs, soft and sexy, her fingers combing lightly through my hair as she backs up a bit and regards me.

              “Darlin’,” she murmurs with a smile, “you were the one who said no contact...”

              “Didn’t wanna risk breakin’ your cover, Anna,” I reply, bridging the slight gap between us and feathering light kisses along her jawline. “Cain Marko’s gang don’t got a real nice reputation, sweet.”

              “Pfft,” she scoffs. “I can handle myself.”

              “For sure,” I agree. “But I’d prefer it if we didn’t tank this mission ‘cos we couldn’t keep our hands offa each other.”

              She hums with vague agreement and runs her thumb across my bottom lip.

              “Sorry about the fist to the face, babe,” she apologises. “Hope I didn’t hurt you too much."

              “Peh.” I wave it off absently – I'd pretty much forgotten it already. “You do what you gotta. Speaking of...”

              But she’s already way ahead of me, rooting around in her utility belt and taking out the small mem-chip case.

              “Nice distraction, by the way,” she congratulates me wryly as she hands me the goods.

              “Didja like it?” I ask her, pocketing the small case.

              “In theory. Thought you had more style, though, Cajun. You managed to set off every alarm in the fucking building.”

              “Heh. Just wanted to make sure you had enough time to pull the heist, cherie.”

              She rolls her eyes expressively.

              “You thought it was funny pissing everyone off, admit it. And what was all that business with the fob pocket?”

              “Chere,” I answer with mock sincerity. “Eight weeks of celibacy and you think I’m gonna pass up the chance to have you feel me up? C’mon.”

              The punch she lands on my bicep is enough to hurt.

              “You are such a troll!” she shoots at me with more affection than ire, I’m happy to say.

              “You love it,” I mutter, grabbing her helplessly and kissing her mouth soundly. We end up wasting a few more precious seconds making out again.

              “So what we gonna do, huh?” I ask her once we break apart. “Henchman #1 is waitin’ outside, and I figure we could both take him out pretty easy...”

              “Nuh-uh,” she cuts me off with a mischievous grin. “That’ll break our cover for sure. You, sweetheart, are taking the back door out.”

              Her gaze slides over my shoulder, and when I look back, I see that the back door is actually a chute in the wall. From the amount of gore it’s covered in, it’s pretty obvious it's a disposal chute – for corpses.

              “You have got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me, p’tite,” I groan under my breath.

              “Think of it as payback for kicking me down that garbage chute back at the Plaza hotel,” she banters back lightly, clearly enjoying this.

              “Anna, after this, we’re even and then some,” I say dolefully.

              “Yup,” she replies cheerfully. She swoops in for another quick kiss before saying: “I’ll be waiting for you by the East gate in about 30. Got some stuff to finish up here, otherwise they’ll get suspicious.”

              “All right.” My response is half-hearted. I ain’t relishing goin’ down that chute, that’s for sure. Anna, however, is completely indifferent to my plight. She’s almost at the door already when I stop her.

              “Uhh… Anna?”

              She stops, turns.

              “What?”

              I point down at my chained-up ankles.

              “Li’l help, please?”

               She gives a theatrical sigh; but she comes back anyway, dropping to her knees and undoing the chains round my ankles.

              “I’m pretty sure you could do this yourself faster than I ever could, Cajun,” she says pointedly, to which I shrug and reply:

              “Sure. But havin’ you down on your knees in front of me brings back all sorts of happy mem’ries I’ve been denied the past couple of months.”

              The chains clatter to the floor and she quirks an unimpressed look at me.

              “Jesus. You’re puttin’ out more pheromones than a skunk puts out spray.”

              “Chere, I been insulted ’nuff today, bein’ called a ‘yank’ an’ all. You reckon you could find an analogy a little more flatterin’ than a skunk?”

              She gets to her feet and plants her hands on her hips.

              “Swamp boy, there ain’t enough analogies in the world for the dirty things I wanna call you right now,” she declares in her gorgeously titillating and rarely-bestowed native Mississippi accent.

              “Oooh,” I banter back. “Dirty, huh? Beb, when I get you home tonight, you can call me all the dirty things under the sun. I can’t wait.”

              She chooses to ignore the statement, walking over to the chute instead and pulling it open. When she looks back at me, she’s smiling sweetly.

              “Sugar, when we get home tonight, the first thing you’re gonna do is take a shower. Cos once you’ve gone down this here chute, you’re gonna be dirty as hell, and not in a good way.”

              Trust her to kill the mood. I peer down the hole gingerly. The miasma wafting up from down below is worse than any skunk’s.

              “Chere, you wanna rethink this? Only I get the feelin’ one shower ain’t gon’ be enough t’ get the stench out...”

              “Quit being such a baby!” She’s smiling way too hard for my liking at this point. “The sooner you get this over with, the sooner we can wrap up this job.”

              I step reluctantly up to the edge of the hole, and she leans in over my shoulder, murmurs in my ear: “And the sooner I can get my hands on you again.” She lets that suggestion linger. And, Dieu, does it linger.

              “Now buckle up and hold onto the railings,” she warns me.

              “What railings?” I manage to get out, before her boot heel connects with my ass, and I’m suddenly tumbling through the filth and mire down, down into the depths of the Marko mansion.

-oOo-

[Chapter 2 now here!]

[thecursedhellblazer-arc]

At the Edge of Nowhere

(( So, guess who went ahead and scratched that crazy itch I got yesterday? Yep, Scotty did. It turned in a small fic instead of a drabble, since apparently I had more to play out than I initially thought, but...here it is. I took the chance to experiment a bit with the writing style too, while I was at it, ‘cause...why not? ))

(( I’m not really sure of where the idea came from, I just really wanted them to have interact, somehow, without inventing something too complicated. And this was the result. Also, it doesn’t mean that I won’t try to shove Five into John’s universe or vice versa at some point, but for now I’m good with this xD ))

(( Sharing just in case anyone is in the mood for some random oddity! ))

(( I even posted in on Ao3 if anyone wants to have a look at it there! ^^” ))

They sit side by side, watching the eternal sunset of Eternity stretching before them, swinging their feet past the edge of the Abyss, unfazed by the danger of its depths. The darkness seems to be threatening to suck them down, condemning them to an endless fall, and yet they pay it no mind, each of them far too interested in sipping and enjoying his drink.

The silence floods past them, over them, through them, carrying the whispers of their lives. However, for this ephemeral moment, they are given the almost unique chance to ignore them. It’s a rare gift, one that deserved to be savoured, like a fine well-aged vintage. Like the ambrosia that the ancient gods, legit and false, so much have lauded.

And so they sit, the Boy and the Fool, side by side, on the edge of the Abyss.

The atmosphere is almost companionable, as much as it can be when shared by two strangers who carry with them too much baggage. A past and a present that are too dark, too painful. There’s as much kinship and understanding between them as there’s mistrust.

They let the quietness linger for a while, listening only to the taste of the alcohol that coats their tongues, knowing that the stasis won’t last. Neither of them is good at keeping his mouth shut when something is making their skin itch.

“Th’ ‘ell ‘s a lad like yeh doin’ in such a place?” The Fool finally asks, turning his eyes away from the magnetic horizon and landing them on his unlikely companion.

The Boy scoffs. Why is it always the same old story with everyone he meets? “I’d watch my fucking tongue if I were you, young man,” he shoots back, with a withering look. “I’m far older than I look. And I’m older than you for sure.”

A half laugh rises with a small cloud of smoke, but it dies in the matter of seconds as the seriousness of those declarations settles in.

“Blimey. Yeh ain’t pullin’ me leg, are yeh? ‘Ow old are yeh s’posed to be den, mate?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding? Trust me, mate, I’m not. I’m fifty-eight. And I’m stuck in the body of a thirteen-years-old. There’s nothing funny about it.”

“Bloody ‘Ell. Fifty-eight n’ still a lad? Tha’s...insane. I dun envy yeh. Nay.”

The Fool shakes his head, but, despite the lingering astonishment, there is a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Tell us, tho. Woh’s yeh secret? I gots me diabolical trick to slow down agin’ n’ all, but it obviously ain’t workin’ as well as yehs.”

“I got stuck in the future for forty-five years and, when I finally figured out the equation to go back to my time, I missed a typo and...this is the result.”

“Soddin’ math. ‘S one o’ th’ bloody reasons why I ne’er managed to get alchemy rite. T’in’s keep blowin’ up in me face.”

“Sodding math indeed. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They clink their glasses together and go back staring at the frozen skyline. Two sets of blue eyes. Different shades of the iris, similar heaviness burdening them.

The Boy steers his drink with his straw, lips pursing pensively. “Speaking of things that suck, what is this place exactly? Am I dreaming? Or did I accidentally take some of my brother’s drugs and this is like the most boring trip in history?”

The Fool scoffs. “Gonna pretend tha’ yeh didn’t jus’ insult me too, together wit’ dis soddin’ place.”

His gaze wanders for a split moment, touching their motionless surroundings. “Ah, I dunno, mate. Could be yeh dream, aye. Could be mine. Or maybe we bot’ stepped inside another real wit’out noticin’ n’ ‘ere we are. Wouldn’t be th’ first time for me. Won’t be th’ last either.”

“I’ve never been in another world. I’ve travelled through time, maybe a bit too much, and I’ve rushed through the fabric of space but this…” The Boy waves his free hand. “This is new. It’s easier to think of it as a dream, so I’d go with that, if you don’t mind. The last thing I need is another headache.”

“Wohe’er works wit’ yeh, mate. I get it. At times, ‘s be’er pretendin’ life ain’t real. ‘S good for yeh mental sanity. Even if yeh got none left.”

The Fool takes yet another drag from his cigarette. Curiously enough, it doesn’t seem to be shortening, even if the ash falls down on his trench coat.

“One t’in’ I can tell yeh ‘bout dis place, tho. It ain’t somewhere e’eryone can visit. Yeh gotta carry some serious shite wit’ yeh to ‘ave stumbled in ‘ere. Do yeh?”

The Boy shrugs. “Maybe? I kept pushing and pushing, even after my father had told me not to and I ended up after the End of the world. I heard the bastard’s voice echoing in my head for the past forty-five years.” He makes his voice thicker for a moment. “I told you so, boy. I told you so. Asshole.”

A long sip from his drink, as if he is trying to wash away that intrusive voice from his ears, before he continues.

“I worked for this organisation that monitors the timeline for a while as a trained assassin. They made me into the perfect killer, a tool for their plans. I had my goals, though, since the start. I took their deal just so that I could go back to try to stop the Apocalypse and save my family. We ended up breakin the world anyway, so I dragged them all back in time to try again. Of course, all that shit followed us. Because it’s never that easy, is it?”

The Fool nods and the Boy can tell that his companion knows that sort of feeling far too well. It’s nice to be fully understood, for once. Even if the understanding comes from a nameless stranger he’ll probably never see again. Assuming that their meeting is truly happening in the first place.

“So...We saved the world this time but broke the timeline. And now my childhood home is gone and me and my siblings are stuck in a timeline that holds no place for us anymore. I’m still trying to figure out how that’s supposed to work. Oh, and that bastard of my adoptive father is hunting us down using the kids he adopted in our place. It’s a real mess.”

There’s bitterness colouring his voice, the embers of a fight that’s too stubborn to die just yet, but the exhaustion is stronger.

“Though, between you and me...All I really want is a decent nap and a dozen more drinks. Maybe get a dog too. Not necessarily in that order.”

The straw produces a light slurping sound as he takes the next sip. “What’s your story? You must have one too, since you’re here...wherever here is.”

The Fool tips his head, in a sign of acknowledgement. No comments follow the tale, and there’s no real need for them there, out of time and space.

“Grew up in me own particular version o’ ‘Ell. Me oul man was th’ fuckin’ opposite o’ ‘father o’ th’ year’...So, I ran in my teen years, still thinkin’ I coulda owned th’ world. Stuck me nose in e’ery bloody t’in’ tha’ was magic n’ occult. One nite I got too cocky and damned an innocent girl to Hell. Earned a bloody place wit’ me name down there too in the process.”

The voice that spells out the words is casual, but there’s something haunted in his expression, darkening his eyes.

“Spent all me life tryin' to make up for tha’ bloody mistake. Ended up messin up meself and most o’ me mates n’ th’ people who ‘ad th’ ‘orrible o’ puttin’ their faith in me as a result. Girl’s still in ‘Ell, th’ bloody Devil ‘imself gots an eternal grudge against me, I gots demon blood in me veins n’ me soz arse ‘s still damned. I might not be a professional like yeh, but I bet I gots jus’ as much blood on me ‘ands. N’ even more souls on me conscience.”

The ice clinks against the transparent walls as the glass is lifted. More sourness to wipe away the one that the words have left on his tongue.

“Nowadays, ‘s mostly me, meself n’ I. Me best mate, too, from time to time. No clue o’ ‘ow he survived bein’ by me side for so long. ‘M still tryin’ to make t’in’s rite, but...for th’ most I jus’ try to be there to do th’ bloody dirty job no self-appointed ‘ero gots th’ time to do. I might be lost, past th’ point o’ no return, but there are lots o’ people out there who aren’t yet. Th’ fuckin’ least I can do ‘s tryin’ to ‘elp ‘em, aye? Make dis soz existence o’ mine wort’ more than misery n’ destruction.”

A drag from his cigarette and there’s a small hand landing on his shoulder, in a brief pat, before he has finished sucking the smoke in. The light pressure says more than a thousand words could.

“Between you and me, tho...I could use a dozen drinks too. Maybe more. N’ a bloody vacation. To sod off somewhere, even for jus’ a day. Maybe take me best mate n’ dis other lad I know. Oh, he could use a break too, th’ poor sod.”

The Boy makes a sound of agreement and he is back stirring his drink. “What a pair we make, you and I. And I don’t even know you.”

“I ‘ear tha’ loud n’ clear, mate. Bloody loud n’ bloody clear. Woh’s tha’ yeh drinkin’ anyway?”

“What? You ne’er seen a margarita? Where the hell are you from? England or Mars? Come on, try it.”

“Oi, I know woh a fuckin’ margarita is, oul man. Yehs jus’ a bit...flashier than woh ‘m used to.”

“Special recipe. I perfected it myself.”

“Now, tha’s more like it. I like a bloke who can make ‘is own drinks. There. Yeh like g n’ t?”

The glasses pass from one hand to another and then they both turn to look back at the unchanged horizon, holding each other’s drink.

A moment to sniff the liquors, in unison, and then the Boy dips his lips in the clear spirit while the Fool wraps his mouth around the straw. The tastes mix in the silence and it’s a symphony of citrus and sourness, with just the right amount of sweetness coming at the end.

“So, what happens now?” The Boy asks, after a moment.

The Fool shrugs. “Ah, I guess we wait till all dis fades. Or till we do. ‘S always ‘ard to tell when it comes to dis sort o’ shite.”

A huffs, with the faintest hint of irritation. “For someone who’s supposed to know a lot about this stuff, you give the worst cryptic answers. I can’t tell if you’re that ignorant or if you’re just fucking with me.”

A nudge in a smaller, slender side and a sharp smirk. “Who knows, mate. Yeh guess ‘s as good as mine. Keep th’ drink. I gots more back where I come from. Consider it a safe trip back home present. I’ll keep yehs as a reminder.”

“A present from a guy I never truly met? And a reminder of something we didn’t even speak about?”

“Nay. Jus’ th’ memory o’ some peace n’ quiet in decent company.”

“Fair enough. I can drink to that.”