#also i read a few fic before finishing the book and i thought sam calling andrew princess in fic was one of those instances

[deklo]

i’ve got 1h 45m left of the summer sons audiobook but even less considering i’m listening at 1.2 speed BUT it’s so hard for me to pay attention when im drawing UGH

[nightxcreature]

Hurt so good.

Summary: After the reader makes a comment about missing Dean’s leather jacket and the old days, he takes matters into his own hands and takes her on the hunt of her life.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, dark romance, hunting, p n v, all the things.

This is not the way I thought this fic would go, but here we are.

My first entry for #Jackelsversebingo2024! 🥳 This one is based on the prompt ‘Camping’ and I have no idea how I came up with this based on that. It’s smutty, it’s a little dark, and it’s got a brief appearance of early season’s leather jacket. 🤗 I loved writing this one, and I hope you enjoy reading it! I guess this could also be classified as Kinktober, but I’m not involved in one of those. 🤣

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Fluorescent lights flicker above my head as I rifle through the dryer, separating my clothes from Deans and folding as I go. He’s never separated clothes, not that he didn’t know how, he just didn’t care to; so it was always up to me or Sam to go through them and make sure nothing was ruined. I slide my arm back in and grimace as I feel the rough leather of one of his new jackets. Slowly pulling it out I can already tell that it’s about two sizes too small at this point; I toss it, along with the rest of the clothes, into the basket and grab a few extra hangers before heading up to our room to finish putting everything away.

“Dean!” I call as I ascend the stairs to the library, “I’ve got some bad news.”

I hear him rattling around in the kitchen, ‘Small Town’ by John Mellencamp softly playing through the little speaker above the door, “Bad news?” He roughly replies, “What do you mean?”

His head peeks around the door of the fridge as I set down the basket and wrinkle my nose, holding up his jacket, “You put this in the dryer.”

He runs a hand across his face and sighs, “Shit.”

“To be honest though,” I start, a slight smile playing at the corners of my lips, “This one isn’t nearly as nice as the one you had when we first met. That one was always my favorite.”

He raises an eyebrow and grins as he shuts the fridge door, “The brown one? That was my dad’s, I don’t even remember the last time I wore that.”

“The day Sammy came back from hell and we met your grandpa.” I blurt out, eyes widening and a blush creeping up my neck as his eyes snap to mine.

“Excuse me?” He gasps, a chuckle escaping him, “Did you just recount, in detail, the last time you saw me wear that jacket?” He takes a few steps toward me and I back slowly out the door. His normal baritone drops what feels like an octave as he whispers, “Did that jacket do something for ya, Darlin’?”

“I-I just-I liked it, and sometimes I miss the days when-when it was just you, me, and Sammy on the road, ya know?” I stutter out and snatch the basket of clothes out of the floor, “It’s-it’s not like I think about the jacket…or-or you in the jacket…”

He shakes his head, rubbing his face again and grins, “Sure, Sweetheart. I miss those days sometimes, too.”

“I’m gonna, uh, finish this.” I nod toward the basket and book it down the hallway, leaving Dean to his thoughts and me to hide in my embarrassment.

A few days later, I’m laid up on the bed with a new book, relaxing during an unusually slow day at the bunker when my phone lights up with Deans name.

‘Meet me in the garage, pack a bag. Got a case.’

‘Didn’t think we had any leads at the moment?’ I send back and grab my duffle from under the bed, stuffing it full with extra clothes and supplies. I sling the bag over my shoulder and grab my phone as another message comes through.

‘Not Chuck related.’

Weird, but not unusual. We could use a run of the mill hunt after everything Chuck’s been throwing at us lately. I shove my phone into my pocket and follow the rumble of the Impala into the garage.

“What did you two get tired of—.” I’m stopped dead in my tracks as Dean turns to face me from the drivers side of the Impala, leather jacket and black tee layered on his torso, Metallica’s greatest hits blasting through the speakers, and the box of his cassettes and 8-tracks sitting beside him. His face is clean shaven and his hair spiked up a little on his head, the only difference is the little aging in his face. If I didn’t know any better I would assume we had spun back in time to 2005.

“Dad’s on a hunt, and I need help looking for a Wendigo,” He nods at the seat next to him and I slowly set my duffle down in the floorboard, “You coming or not?”

Nodding, I sit down beside him and shut the door, trying to stay in character, “Couldn’t get Sammy to help out on this one?”

He snorts and shakes his head, “You know he’s too busy getting a fancy education so he can get me out of trouble.”

I laugh and nod again, “He’s got a lot of learning to do then.” pointing toward his jacket I smile and break for a moment, “Where did you find that?”

“Find what?” He asks, wrapping an arm around the seat and backing out of the bunker, “My jacket? I’ve had this thing for years, Sweetheart, I’d never lose it.” He winks and peels off into the afternoon.

A slight chuckle leaves me and I look out the window, “Where are we headed? Did you bring the map?”

He swaps the tape out, setting the box in the floor before pulling me closer as the intro to ‘Whole lotta Love’ fills the cabin, “Don’t need a map, I know exactly where we’re going. You just sit back and relax.” He places his right arm around my shoulders and I lean into him, the smell of the leather overwhelming my senses, “You gonna sleep? It might be while. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to rest up before we get there.”

I nod and doze off for a while not even feeling the car roll to a stop several hours later. Sunlight warms my cheeks and I stretch, opening my eyes I burst into laughter at the scene in front of me.

“Did you recreate the Wendigo hunt we went on back when we were looking for your dad?!” I exclaim, hopping out of Baby and staring at the tents set up around me, “You’ve really outdone yourself, Dean Winchester.”

He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck and sweetly smiles, “I was thinking about it after you mentioned liking the jacket so much and I’ve been missing the ‘monster of the week’ hunts. I thought it’d be fun to pretend for a little while.”

I return his smile and nod toward the bag beside the tent in the back, “Are we really hunting a Wendigo or do you have something more fun than a flamethrower packed in that bag?”

“Is there anything more fun than a flamethrower?” He questions with a shit-eating grin, “I have a lot of things planned for this weekend…and hunting a Wendigo is not one of them.” He stalks toward me slowly and reaches a hand into his jacket, pulling a rope and a black bandana out of the pocket, “But I do plan on hunting you.”

My jaw slightly drops and I take a step backwards, “This is not where I thought this was going.”

He sends me another sweet smile, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I do keep track of the books you read…and this does seem like a theme they follow. If it’s not the kind of hunt you had in mind though, I’m sure I can find something else.”

He shrugs coyly and begins to turn away before I jump and grab his arm, “No!” I can see the smile on his face as he turns back to face me, “I-I mean, no. This is fine. This is…great, actually. I am more than willing to do...this.” My feet shuffle beneath me and I can feel the anticipation in the air as he stares at my face, checking for any sign of hesitation.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He says as he shrugs off the jacket, his black tee stretching deliciously across his chest as he reaches up to tie the bandana around his face, “Run.”

My heart leaps into my throat and I freeze, “Now? The suns still out, that’s too easy…”

“Run.” He says again, picking up a knife I didn’t even know was sitting on the small cooler beside us.

“Dean, this feels like something we should do at….”

“Run!” He yells, stepping quickly toward me and I take off into the trees.

In my race to hide I realize that I have nothing but my cellphone with me, no food or water, and nothing to signal to Dean that I need help if I end up in a complicated situation. As if this isn’t a complicated situation already. The first place my mind goes to hide is higher ground, but Dean knows my mind just as well as I do, so I scan for somewhere lower and spot a small hole in a tree trunk just big enough for me to fit through. Sliding in, I shimmy my way up and into the trunk, listening intently for any sound that Dean was close by.

My phone begins to buzz in my pocket and as I dig it out I try not to laugh as I notice Dean must’ve taken my phone while I slept because his contact photo has been changed to Ghostface.

I quickly swipe right and put the phone to my ear, “Oh, please don’t kill me Mister Ghostface. I want to be in the sequel.”

A dark chuckle comes from the other end of the line and I hear him suck in a breath, “Tell me where you are and I won’t have to.”

“No way.” I breathe out, “You’ve gotta catch me.”

The snap of a twig comes from outside of the tree and I feel my heart plummet, “I don’t think you picked a very good spot.” He whispers, knocking softly on the tree trunk, “Do you?”

A hand suddenly slides through the opening of the trunk and wraps around my ankle, pulling hard enough to make me lose my balance landing me on my ass, “Got’cha.”

I pull on my foot and panic sets in as I realize he isn’t letting up. His other hand wraps around my other leg and one hard pull has me out in the open air.

Dean wags a finger at me, his green eyes sparkling, “I know you can hide better than that. I taught you better.”

My brows furrow and I set my jaw, “Speaking of which, how hard are we playing?”

He raises a brow and I see the bandana twitch as he smirks, “No holds barred, Darlin’. Do what you need to get away, it’ll make it more fun when I catch you….again.”

“Good.” I raise a leg and stomp on the hand still holding my ankle in place. He yanks his arm back, cursing, and I scramble away back in the direction of camp, “Catch me if ya can!”

I find another tree with branches low enough that I can swing onto and pull myself up high enough that I can see below me and for a few feet surrounding the tree. My phone rings again and I put it to my ear, hearing Dean’s gruff voice before I can answer.

“That wasn’t very nice.” He spits out, “Are you hiding better this time?”

“You didn’t say I had to play nice.” I whisper, “I think I’m hiding quite well, thank you.”

I sit on the branch with my back toward the trunk of the tree, keeping my knees to my chest in case they dangle and he sees me, “Are you coming to get me?”

“Maybe I already found you.” He whispers back, “Maybe I’m looking at you right now.”

“What are you gonna do when you catch me?”

“When?” He replies, and I can hear the smirk on his face, “Giving up so easily?”

“No, just curious.”

“You’ll find out soon.” The line suddenly goes dead, and I quiet my breathing, as if he could hear it from the ground. The birds and the sound of the creek below are the only noise surrounding me and I chance leaning over to see if he’s anywhere close by, slamming myself back quickly when I see his bandana clad face in the tree next to me. After a moment I realize he must’ve missed me and I chance leaning around again, when a hand wraps around my throat from behind.

“How do we keep meeting like this?” He grunts cockily into my ear, “It’s like you want to be caught.”

My heart is in my throat as he pulls me to him, “I’m going to help you down,” He whispers, one hand on my throat, his thumb and forefinger on either side of my jaw, the other hand on my ass, “Are you going to run?”

I shake my head dumbly and blink, “No.”

“Are you going to hit me?”

Another shake of my head, and he slowly helps me to the forest floor, “Now what am I gonna do with you?” He wraps a hand in my hair and pulls me to my feet, “You did try your best, didn’t you?”

“Uh huh.” I nod, frantically looking for someway to get out of his hold this time as he drops his hand to my jaw again.

Leaning down and he pulls my face up to his, “Your best just wasn’t good enough, was it?”

I smile sweetly and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer and then abruptly shoving him away. Losing his balance, he curses again as I take off running. He scrambles to his feet and lunges to tackle me to the floor, we roll for a few feet before I pin his arms above his head, my knee on his chest.

“Who’s catching whom?” I smirk as I stare down at him, “This isn’t going the way you thought, is it?”

The bandana moves again, the hint of a smile in his eyes, “Sweetheart, this is exactly what I had planned.” His knee finds its way underneath mine and we’re suddenly rolling once more, him pinning me and straddling my hips, “Now, are you going to stay still?”

I nod, my heart in my throat once more, as his hands make their way slowly down my body to the hem of my shirt.

••••••••••••••smut below the cut•••••••••••••••

He lifts the fabric above my head, throwing it to the side, and pulls the rope from his belt loop, wrapping it loosely around my wrists, “Tighter.” I whisper, watching his eyebrows raise before he pulls the knot tight against my skin.

His hands slide down my torso and he slowly slides my jeans down my legs, “Should’ve had you run around like this instead.” He whispers, biting his lip, “Would’ve caught you the first time.”

I blush and bite my own lip, as he rakes his eyes over my body, “Jesus, you’re so beautiful.”

He grips my jaw tightly, dropping the bandana to his neck and pulls me into a searing kiss, his tongue dancing over mine. I strain against the ropes on my wrists, lifting my arms to place my hands in his hair, “No.” he gruffly says before pinning my arms down again, “Don’t touch me.”

I groan, but his lips are on mine again before I can complain and any arguments fly out the door as he lays his body across mine and pushes his hips into me.

“Dean.” I moan, raising my hips to meet his, “Please.”

“Please what?” He asks, and I can feel the smirk on his lips as he runs them down my throat, “What do you need, Baby?”

My legs wrap around his waist and pull him roughly into me again, and he grunts as I sink my teeth into his throat, “Please, Dean.”

He moans again and slides a hand down my waist, “I love it when you beg.” He sinks his thumbs into the waistband of my panties and slides them down my legs before unhooking my bra and helping me stand.

“Now you.” I bat my lashes and he flashes a smile my way before reaching behind me.

“Got something else for ya, first.” He pulls a duffle bag over and takes the old brown jacket out, laying it out on the forest floor, “Lay down. Put your head on it, not above it.”

I do as he instructs as he takes his own clothes off and finds his way in between my thighs again, and slowly runs his hand over himself. I blush as he stares at me again, one hand around himself, the other around my throat as he brings me up to him in another kiss.

“I love you.” He whispers against my lips and pushes me down onto the leather again, before reaching below and feeling the wetness building between my legs, “All that because I chased you through the woods like a maniac?”

“All that because I know you’d never really hurt me.” I reply with a moan as he sinks a single finger into me.

“Oh, I’m gonna hurt you, Baby.” He grins as he adds another finger and runs his other hand across my breast, tugging and pinching at my nipples, “Hurt you so good.”

He slides his fingers out of me and shoved them between my lips with a groan before grabbing the rope above me and flipping me to my stomach. Lifting my hips, he lines up with my entrance and slams his hips into mine, pulling moan after moan from my lips as he rocks into me.

“Good girl,” He groans out, “Yell as loud as you want, no one’s coming to help you.”

His hand wraps around my throat and pull me flush against his chest as his other hand slides across my stomach to rub circles on my clit, “Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Uh huh. Yeah.” I whisper, breathily, “Gonna cum for you.”

“Then do it.” He grunts out as he runs faster, “Wanna feel you squeeze the life outta my cock. Wanna cum with you.”

The mix of his words and the sensations overwhelming my body send me directly over the edge, my eyes roll back and I go limp in his arms, feeling his hips stutter to a stop shortly after. He pulls himself out of me and spins me slowly to face him as he cradled my face, placing a sweet kiss to my lips.

“That was awesome.” He breathes out with a grin, “We should do that once a month.”

I laugh as he places the jacket around my naked shoulders and pulls his pants up around his waist, “Yeah, next time you can keep the jacket on.”

He winks and pulls me toward our camp, “We’ll see. You wanna rest, eat a s’more, and then maybe I’ll let you chase me through the dark.”

“Didn’t you tell a cop one time that you don’t get trapped in the woods with people, people get trapped in the woods with you?”

“I’d make an exception for you.” He says with a grin, tugging me close to him and kissing my temple, “I love you, Pretty Girl.”

I smile against him, “I love you, too.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: I was not sure how to end this so I hope that’s satisfying enough. My first time writing smut e v e r. I enjoyed this one, I hope you did, too! 🫶🏼

Tag list: @lmhf1

[builtbybrokenbells]

Hate To Love You | ii

Read part one here

Read part three here

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, female masturbation, slight touch of (consenting!!) voyeurism, fingering (f!receiving), dirty talk, a bit of choking, unprotected sex (god please wear protection, im sorry i keep doing this), sex in a sort of kinda public place, shower sex, continuing to have sex while someone is talking to you ? Idk what that’s called but yeah, that, swearing, talking about toxic ex’s, fluff, angst, love triangle shit, sad Danny and Sammy (very much deserves a warning), sorry if I missed anything!

without further ado, here’s part two! Hope you enjoy :) also fair warning that this is actually kind of filthy by times 😭 I’m unsure of where that came from, but anyway. beware, this kind of has emotions all over the place. also disclaimer, I set this up as a terrible situation right from the beginning because for some reason i literally live for writing angst. i only started this fic bc i knew how i wanted it to end. it’s a character flaw now ig. please be kind and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

~

Your heart drummed in your chest as your hand slipped around the doorknob, opening the door and sliding through the crack. You let out a sigh of relief when the latch clicked behind you with no interruptions. See, the plan was that there was no plan. Just you and Sam inconspicuously sneaking off at different times and hoping nobody would notice that you’d both magically disappeared without a trace. So far, it had worked out in your favour. And if it hadn’t, nobody had said anything yet. It definitely wasn’t the smartest course of action, but it was the one you were going with. You decided you would reap the consequences when they made themselves known.

You took a seat on the couch of Sam’s dressing room, crossing your legs and leaning into the arm. Their set finished in five minutes, which was your cue to get moving. In no way were you willing to be caught sneaking into his room by one of his brothers after they got off stage. You checked your phone to see if you had any missed messages, but the screen was blank. You pulled up your camera, checking your hair and makeup to make sure you looked good. You sighed as you clicked your screen shut, tapping your fingers against the leather of the sofa with growing impatience.

The boys has started a small tour, just for about a month, and it was wrapping up in the next week. But, the month had been too long for your liking. It had been weeks since you’d seen Sam, or any of the others, for that matter. They had a show booked for a venue a few cities over from where you were living. You had managed to convince their tour manager, which you’d met a few times in the past, to sneak you in the back door so you could surprise Sam. Guilt was creeping up on you for not telling Danny about your arrival, but you were desperate to see the boy who’d been occupying your mind for weeks on end. You loved your best friend, but Sam had somehow wormed his way into your heart and showed no signs of leaving. He consumed almost every one of your thoughts. He’d been plaguing your phone with messages of missing you, and some rather provocative voice messages and photographs. He was making sure you wouldn’t forget about him. Little did he know, it wasn’t even a possibility that you could. So, you packed up for the weekend when the chance arose, just so you could curb the need for his company for a few more days.

So far, to the best of your knowledge, he had no idea. Before you’d arrived that night, Sam had texted you his daily countdown of how many days were left until he could see you. You were quite confident that you were still in the clear. One thing you hadn’t really thought out was how you were going to leave the venue without anyone knowing you’d been in there. And also, how the hell you were going to sneak in and out of his hotel room. You’d worry about that later, though. All you were concerned with was seeing the boy who’d been occupying your mind every night for weeks on end.

You’d fully intended on telling everyone about your’s and Sam’s new found relationship the night it had begun. Somewhere along the lines, the plan was lost in translation. The sneaking around had become thrilling, to say the least. Pretending to hate each other like usual, but sneaking off to a bathroom to make out, sneaking touches when no one was looking or from under the table, or leaving parties ten minutes after each other to go back to Sam’s place, was kind of hot. Plus, the idea of growing the relationship together first, making sure it would last before announcing it to everyone seemed most logical in your brain. But, above all, you were terrified of hurting Danny by telling him. Realistically, you knew deep down it might hurt him more by hiding it, but you were terrified of being the person to cause him any sort of pain. This had been dragging on for months now, no end in sight.

You were jolted back to reality when you had heard laughing and shuffling from the hallway. You immediately sat up, straightening yourself out. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips, practically vibrating with excitement. You were eager to see his reaction when he came in. When the doorknob twisted, your heart could have exploded. The door pushed open and Sam stepped inside, not noticing you immediately. The door fell shut behind him with a thud. He was glistening with sweat, hair sticking to his neck, shirtless and barefoot. You had to stop yourself from giggling at the sight.

“Great show you put on, Sammy. Think I’d be able to get an autograph?” You asked sweetly. His head snapped up, eyes wide with shock. It took him a moment to process what was in front of him.

“Y/n?” He asked, still barely believing you were there. You jumped up, running over to him. He picked you up in a hug, kissing you as if it was the last time he ever would. You didn’t care if he was sweaty, you were just happy you were finally back in his arms. “What are you doing here?” He questioned, still holding you. Your legs were wrapped around him, his hands supporting your bum.

“I couldn’t wait any longer to see you, and I pulled some strings at work.” You whispered, kissing him again. It was soft, but imminent, showing him all the emotion you had pent up since he left. “I missed you so much, Sammy.” You whispered against his lips.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.” He said, resting his forehead on yours. “Does anyone else know you’re here?” He asked, gently letting you back down to the ground. You shook your head.

“As much as I love everyone else, I just needed to see you.” He understood what you meant, feeling the same way. “I drove here, so maybe I can just sneak out and meet you at your hotel once you get there?” You asked, hopeful. For the first time so far, sneaking around was much less than hot and way more of a pain in the ass.

“I mean, yeah, if you’d like to do that, we can.” He said, brushing some stray hairs from your eyes. “As long as I get to sleep next to you tonight, I’ll be happy.” He admitted. You couldn’t agree more.

“I just wanted to surprise you, I didn’t really think it all out too much. Five days just seemed so long.” You laughed, feeling a little dumb.

“That’s okay,” he rushed out “I’m more than happy to see you, trust me.” He let his fingers trail over your jaw, then down your neck and landing his palm on the back of your neck. He pulled you in for another kiss, much hungrier than the last. You could feel the shift in the dynamic before it was even over. “Bathroom, now.” He ordered once he’d pulled away. The sweet side vanished, quickly overpowered by desire.

“Why?” You cocked an eyebrow, challenging him.

“Because you’re going to get in the shower with me, and I’m going to fuck you.” He stated, simply. His eyes showed no hint of joking.

“I don’t want to ruin my hair and makeup. I prettied myself up just for you.” You smirked, knowing your disobedience to the order would get him going. “Don’t you want to appreciate it, first?”

“Oh, I have.” He paused, eyes looking you up and down. “I’m not going to say it again; go to the bathroom and take your clothes off.” He growled. You tilted your head to the side, staying in place, a sweet smile stuck on your lips. You always found it fun to mess with him. He was already tired of waiting for you, his patience never really existing in the first place.

“Make me.” Your cheekiness was quickly brought to a halt when he reached up, taking your throat in his hand. He was careful not to apply too much pressure, still terrified to hurt you in any way. He smiled, admiring the look on your face. He caught your lips in a kiss before tightening his grip slightly.

“I don’t think you want me to have to do that, sweetheart.” He whispered. You gave a nod, feeling your arousal pooling between your legs. “Now get in there and take your fucking clothes off.” You weren’t sure if Sam had normally been dominant in the bedroom, or if it was an extension of your relationship dynamic from almost the entire time you’d known him. Either way, you weren’t complaining.

He let you go, putting a little force behind it as he did so. You stopped yourself from stumbling and turned on your heels quickly, making your way to the bathroom without another word. You wasted no time ridding your clothes from your body, leaning against the counter to wait for him. You heard shuffling in the other room, presumably just Sam straightening some things out before he joined you. Your mind wandered to what he was going to do with you once he got you in the shower. You were out of your mind with anticipation; you had no idea how you went so long without having sex before Sam. Now that you were with him, it was all you wanted to do.

You couldn’t help but let your thoughts consume you, reaching a hand down between your legs for some type of satisfaction. You ran your fingers through your wetness, spreading it up to your clit, rubbing small circles. A gasp fell from your lips as you did so, but you couldn’t help but wish it was Sam’s fingers instead. You found yourself lost in the moment, not even noticing when the door opened until you heard someone speak. “You couldn’t even wait for me, princess?” A disapproving tone broke you from your concentration you quickly moved your hand, embarrassed to be caught. Sam moved towards you, now only clad in a pair of boxers. He grabbed your arm, roughly putting your fingers back to where they were before he’d interrupted. “I didn’t tell you to stop.” He reminded.

You watched him, cheeks flushed, trying to process what he was saying. His jaw was hard set, clearly worked up himself. Slowly, you returned to touching yourself, waiting for his approval. He took a step back, allowing himself full view. His breath caught in his throat. “Get up on the counter.” He demanded. You did as you were told without question, placing your hands on the cool surface and hoisting yourself up. You watched him watch you, feeling a knot form in your stomach. It had been far too long since he’d seen you like this. You placed your hands between your legs once more, but feeling a bit nervous being on display. “Don’t be shy, baby.” He said, reaching out and spreading your legs for you. “You wouldn’t have been touching yourself in here if you didn’t want me to catch you.” He said. Your eyes fluttered up to meet his. “Am I wrong?” You shook your head ‘no’. Although it wasn’t your original intent, a small part of you definitely wanted him to walk in on you. “Use your words.” He demanded.

“No, Sammy.” You said softly, feeling the anxiety slipping away.

“That’s what I thought.” His voice was gravelly. You could tell by his tone he was trying not to take you right there, but he was a bit too cocky to give in so quickly. “Get yourself off.” He ordered.

“Sam-“ you began to protest, but he cut you off.

“Shut up.” He snapped. You stopped, immediately scared that he wouldn’t allow you an orgasm at all. I said, get yourself off.” His hand was still on your knee. Although his tone was harsh, the loving circles he’d been tracing into your skin assured you it was an act. “Then, I’ll make you cum.” He assured you. “I just want to see how you did it while I was gone. Did you think of me?”

“Mmhmm.” You mumbled softly, picking up the pace in which you were rubbing yourself. “Wished it was you every time.” You mumbled.

“Oh so it was more than once?” Arrogance was radiating from him, but you couldn’t help but watch him with nothing but admiration. “Answer me, beautiful.” He said palming himself through his boxers.

“All of the time.” You answered truthfully. You let in a sharp inhale, feeling yourself getting close to your climax.

“I can’t wait to fuck you.” He admitted, hand trailing up your bare thigh. You could tell he was struggling not to touch you.

“You gonna show me how much you missed me, Sammy?” You wanted to put on a show for him, hooking your leg around his waist and pulling him closer to you. He let out a groan at your actions, tightening his fingers around your leg. “Are you gonna fuck me?”

“Don’t worry about what I’m going to do.” He spat, still rubbing himself, trying to get some relief. “Just worry about you. I’m getting impatient. If you don’t hurry up you may not get to cum at all.” You did as he said, quickening your pace and adding your fingers to the mix with your unoccupied hand. “That’s it, gorgeous.” He sighed, his eyes focused on your cunt. With the added stimulation of your other hand, you were painfully close to your climax. You threw your head back, closing your eyes and letting out a moan. Sam acted fast, grabbing your face in his hand and forcing your head back down. “Look at me. I want to watch you.” The statement caused your hands to stutter.

With his eyes locked on yours, gaze unwavering, you gave into the pleasure. Your orgasm hit you hard, way harder than it had in the past weeks. His eyes hardened, scared if he looked away from you, you’d disappear. Your own eyes rolled back in your head as you rode the high, desperate for air. “S-sammy!” You stuttered, almost as if you were praying to him.

“That’s it, baby.” He muttered, bringing your lips to his. He was painfully hard, already planning on getting you right off the counter into the shower. When he pulled away, you removed your hands from yourself, to which he immediately replaced them with his own. A strangled cry came from your mouth as his calloused fingertips brushed over your overly sensitive clit, but he didn’t stop.

“Sam, please,” you pleaded, trying to push his hands away.

“Stop it, you’re fine.” And he was right, you were. After a few moments of unbearable sensitivity, the euphoric feeling had hit you ten times harder. You were practically screaming your noises of pleasure, only fuelling him further. “Come on, princess.” He whispered, working his fingers into you. “I want you to cum like that for me.” And you did, clenching around his hand while crying his name. Tears were welling in your eyes as your legs shook, hips locked in a solid position. Your throat was hoarse, and you were sure the entire venue would have heard you if not for the concrete walls.

Just when you thought he would coddle you, maybe pull you in for a kiss, he removed himself from you completely. He walked to the shower, flicking the tap on. He threw his boxers away hastily and returned to your side. He didn’t utter a word as he picked you up. “Legs around me, now.” He ordered. You did as best you could to obey, barely being in the conscious mind. He stepped into the shower, still holding you, and pressed your back against the wall. The cool tile felt nice on your warm skin. He supported you with one hand while lining himself up with you with his other. He pulled you down on him, eliciting a groan from you. “Fuck I missed you,” he muttered, withdrawing his hips slightly and pushing himself back in. He stayed slow in that position, wanting to enjoy being close to you again without getting too intense. His head was buried in your neck, whispering sweet nothings while he sucked and bit marks into your skin.

“I love you, Sammy.” You mumbled, so fucked out you were barely aware of what you were saying. He paused his movement entirely, pulling his head away from you. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t-“ you rushed out, finally coming to your senses. When he dropped you to your feet, your stomach churned with anxiety. He didn’t say a word, but watched you meticulously. You were starting to panic, tears rushing to your eyes. “I’ll just… I’m gonna g-go.” You excused yourself, making a move to get out of the shower. He grabbed your waist, his fingers searing into your skin. He pushed you against the wall of the shower so your chest was flush, but pulled your hips back towards him.

“Say it again.” He barked, his hand now gripping your shoulder. He lined himself back up with you.

“What?” You questioned, unsure of what was going on.

“Fucking say it again.” He hissed.

“I- I love you, Sam.” You said with more certainty. He pushed himself into you, moving his hand to your hip. The steam from the heat of the shower was filling your senses, sending you back into euphoria as he started to fuck you again.

“Again.” He pleaded, all tones of assertion gone, replaced with a touch of desperation.

“I love you, Sammy.” You repeated, confident this time. His hips sped, pushing your face into the tile with every thrust. Something had taken over him, he was more animalistic with you than he’d ever been. You were driving him crazy by saying it. He leaned down, leaving love bites all over your shoulders, gripping you so hard you were sure he’d leave bruises. You let out a blissful moan as he hit your g-spot. He continued on at that angle, loving the noises you’d been making for him.

A knock sounded at the door just as you were both reaching your peak. You expected him to pull out, or at least slow down, but he continued on. “Brother?” Someone called out from the other side of the door.

“Yeah?” Sam yelled back, voice unfaltering.

“You okay, man? You’ve been in there for a while. We’re getting ready to head to the bar.” You could recognize the voice as Josh’s. You had been trying to stay as silent as possible, but Sam did not make it easy. He’d slipped his hand around to the front of you, fingers dancing over your already abused clit.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just don’t feel too good, don’t know what hit me.” He lied so effortlessly that even you could have believed him if not for him being inside of you.

“Oh, okay, man. You think you’re gonna join us? Should we wait up?” He questioned. A whimper fell from your lips as he had hit the perfect spot. His free hand clamped around your mouth.

“No, you guys can go. I’ll be done here soon, then I’ll probably go to the hotel and call it an early night.” You couldn’t understand how his voice was so steady. You chalked it up to him singing and talking while he jumped around on stage.

“Okay, text us if you change your mind and we’ll let you know where we are.” Josh yelled.

“Will do!” Sam answered. He waited a moment until he heard the bang of the main door shutting, then he removed his hand from your mouth.

“What the fuck was that, Sam?” You whispered, still scared Josh would overhear you.

“You certainly weren’t complaining.” He muttered, slamming his hips back into you. You let out a gasp. “Actually, I think you’re gonna cum.” He said, smugly. He was correct. Damn him for knowing your body too well. He swirled his fingers over your clit a few more times before you unravelled, slurring out profanities. “That’s it, baby.” Sam groaned, not far behind you. “Tell me you love me again.” He ordered once you can down from your high.

“I love you.” You said softly, no tone of arrogance or anything other than honesty. He took a sharp intake of breath and reached his own orgasm, moaning your name and pulling you back down on him as it happened. He rested in you for a moment, just basking in the closeness. Eventually, he withdrew and you turned to face him.

“I love you, too, baby.” He said, eyes drooping with exhaustion. You couldn’t help but smile at the confession. “I love you so much.” He sighed, pulling your chin up so he could lean down to kiss you. “We seem to have a thing for fucking in bathrooms, though.” He stated once you broke apart. You both laughed at the statement.

You finished your shower with him, both of you slipping out and wrapping yourselves in towels. You dried off and picked up your clothes, making a move to go back to the main room. He followed closely behind, not wanting you to leave his sight. When you dropped your towel, he gave your ass a smack. You jumped in surprise, letting out a giggle. He went over to his bag and grabbed a hoodie and sweatpants, tossing them in your direction. “Here, if you’d like to leave undetected.” He smiled. You nodded, slipping on the bottoms. You had to cuff the sweatpants quite a few times and tie the drawstrings, but you made it work. You threw his hoodie on, leaving the hood up.

You revelled in the confines of the sweater, breathing in the scent. It smelled just like him and it warmed your heart. “You look good in my clothes.” He said, pulling on another pair of his pants. That was one thing you had to laugh at, Sam packed a bag like a middle aged woman on vacation; two outfits for every occasion. He grabbed his wallet from a pile of his things and opened it, pulling out a hotel keycard. “I got two at check in, cause I always end up losing one.” He chuckled. “Guess it really came in handy, this time.” He handed it to you. “The room number’s written on it too.” You slipped it in your pocket.

“Guess so, baby.” You said, giving him a smile. He leaned down to place another kiss to your lips. You held him there for a moment, never wanting to lose the feeling. When you pulled away, you let your hand rest on his cheek. “I’m gonna head out, try and avoid everyone.” You informed him.

“Sure,” he said, pulling you into a hug. “I’ll be there soon. Be safe.”

“I will, Sammy.” You said, making your way to the door. “Oh, uh, can you bring my clothes back with you?” You asked, suddenly embarrassed at your earlier interaction. A blush rose to your cheeks. He laughed at you, nodding his head at your request.

“Of course.” He followed you as you left, leaning against the doorway as you walked out. He watched you make your way to the exit, smiling to himself.

“Hey, who’s that?” A voice sounded from beside him. Sam looked to see Danny standing, watching you walk away, too.

“Oh, uh, just some chick from the front row.” Sam brushed it off. “Asked security to pull her back here before she left.” He lied quickly, trying to cover his own ass.

“Ah, I see,” Danny said. “And you let her take your clothes home?”

“Yeah, just old shit anyway. Figured I’d never miss it.”

“Uh huh,” Danny paused, knowing that the clothes in question were some of his favourites. “And how do you think y/n would feel if she found out you were fucking groupies?” Sam nearly choked on his breath, whipping his head to look at Danny.

“What?” He asked, in disbelief.

“Come on, man. We all know. You think you guys are being sneaky, but we know you both way too well.” He chuckled. “Just wish you guys would have told me, you know?” He said before he walked off.

“Wait, Danny!” Sam called to him, but he wasn’t turning around.

“Also, you guys are obnoxiously loud.” He said before disappearing around the corner.

“Fuck,” Sam muttered to himself, turning on his heels and walking back into his room.

•

You pushed through the door of the hotel, taking in the sight of the front lobby. It was beautiful. You didn’t have too much experience with hotels, or travel. Your parents were quite poor growing up, and you never really broke the curse as you grew into adulthood. Hotels and anything of the sort, no matter if they were five star or not, were quite luxurious to you. The lady at the front desk gave you a warm smile as you passed by. You mumbled a hello, returning her gesture. You went directly to the elevator, pressing the button to go upstairs. The doors swung open, inviting you inside.

You looked at the paper holder containing the keycard, seeing the room number written messily on the outside of it. You clicked the floor number and waited. You laughed at the messy penmanship; Sam could be so forgetful by times. Luckily, this time around, it really worked in your favour. The ding of the elevator broke you from your thoughts. The doors parted and you stepped into the hallway. Your legs carried you down the hall, eyes scanning the bold black numbers labelling the rooms.

You landed in front of the room that matched the number on the card, swiping the key in front of the sensor. The electronic lock clicked open and you stepped inside. Upon first inspection, it was so blatantly clear that this was Sam’s room. His cologne was still present in the air from before he’d left for the venue, a towel was left on the bathroom floor, and a few different outfits were strewn on the bed. The blankets were messy and the pillows were all over the mattress. You smiled to yourself, dropping your bag by the T.V. stand and immediately crawling in the mess of pillows, pulling the blanket over you. The pillowcase smelled like Sam’s shampoo, inviting you in and lulling you to sleep. It had been far too long since you fell asleep surrounded by him.

Without even realizing it, you drifted off into a slumber more peaceful than any you’d had while he was away.

About thirty minutes later, Sam was unlocking the door himself and making his way inside. He dropped his own bag by the door, kicking off his shoes. When he looked to the bed, his heart melted at the sight of you. He walked over, carefully sitting on the bed beside you. He ran a hand through your still damp hair, gently brushing out any knots. As you began to stir, he leaned down and placed a kiss on your head. You let out a small groan, slowly coming back to life. You stretched out your legs, taking in a large breath as your eyes fluttered open. “Well, hello, sleepyhead.” Sam said softly, hand still tangled in your hair. “Have a good nap?” You couldn’t help but smile. It had felt like an eternity since you’d woken up next to him.

“Would’ve been better if you were here.” You whispered.

“Good thing I’m here now, then.” He said. He wasn’t sure if he should tell you about his interaction with Danny earlier, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness of the reunion. He knew he’d have to eventually, but right now just didn’t seem like the time for it. You opened your arms, reaching out for him to lay beside you. “Just a second.” He promised, standing up. He took off his shirt leaving himself just in his sweatpants. You watched him, silently admiring him as he moved. You made a move to take your pants off, wanting as much closeness with him as you could get. You tossed them onto the floor beside you, scooting over a bit to give him some more room to climb in.

He picked up the comforter, sliding in next to you and wasting no time pulling you to his chest. The warmth of his body immediately relaxed you. “I know I already said it, but I missed you, Sammy.” You mumbled, eyes closing once more.

“I missed you too, baby.” He said, his hand snaking under your far too large sweatshirt, caressing the skin on your hip. “I promise I’ll take you out on a date when we get home, I just want to be here with you tonight. I want you all to myself.” He admitted.

“Me too,” you agreed. You both sat in silence for a moment, not moving, just soaking up each others company. Eventually, he pulled you on top of him, settling you between his legs. Your head rested on his stomach, your arms brought to your chest, curling the blanket up to your chin. He played with the ends of your hair, letting the locks fall through his long fingers.

“Did you mean what you said, earlier?” He asked.

“Which part?” You asked for clarification.

“That you loved me.” His hands worked their way up to your scalp, gently massaging it. You let out a hum of pleasure at the feeling.

“Yeah, I did, Sammy.” You whispered, your own hand now moving to his stomach, tickling his skin with your fingertips. The muscles in his abdomen flexed at the contact, causing a small giggle to fall from you. “Of course I did.” You added. “I was scared that it was too soon, you looked almost… mad when I said it. But I meant it.” He laughed quietly at your words, finding it ridiculous that you thought he’d be mad at you.

“I wasn’t mad, y/n. Shocked, yeah, for sure. I wasn’t expecting you to say it.” He admitted. “But I’ve been waiting to hear you say that since the day I met you. If that was the only thing you said to me for the rest of my life, I’d be happy.” His hand that wasn’t knotted in your hair came down on top of yours, lacing your fingers together. “Why would you think I’d be mad at you?” He whispered now, gentle with his tone. You stayed silent for a moment, unsure of how to answer him.

“I don’t know… I guess I’m just so used to my past boyfriends being mad at me all of the time. I suppose it’s just in my nature to expect you to be mad, or assume I did something wrong.” You confessed. His heart leapt at the use of the word boyfriend. That had not been discussed yet, but he certainly didn’t mind the sound of it. On the other hand, he was curious. He’d never heard you talk much about your former partners.

“You can talk about it, if you want.” He didn’t want to pry, but he did want to know more. He gave you the option to tell him or not.

“I don’t know, Sammy.” You sighed. “Not much of a story, I guess. I’ve only had one other boyfriend. He was a dick. I dated him all through high school and moved in with him after graduation. He was mean and I didn’t know that it wasn’t how I should be treated. I didn’t know anything else.” A frown encased his lips. “He never let me go out, or have any friends. He wanted me to do anything he wanted whenever he wanted it. He always wanted to fight with me and according to him, I could never do anything right. That’s how I met Danny, actually.”

“What do you mean?” Sam never actually got close enough with you to know much about you in the beginning. He knew you were beautiful, funny and kind. He knew you adored Danny, but not why. He knew enough to fall for you, but he really wanted to know you, now. He wanted the little things constantly stored in the back of his head so he could use them as needed. He wanted to know what made you, you.

“After a particularly bad fight, I went to a bar to get some cheap liquor.” You laughed at the memory. “I’m not sure why, but it seemed right at the time. I barely drank back then. But Danny showed up, he was just finishing up with you guys at the studio. He sat beside me and bought some god-awful looking beer.” You shuddered at the thought. No matter how hard Danny tried to convince you it was good, you couldn’t stand the taste of it. “He introduced himself and noticed I’d been crying. He talked to me all night, wanting to know everything about me. It was the first time I’d ever felt…” you pondered for the right word. “Seen.” You finished. “He was the only person in my life by that point, who’d ever cared enough about me to want to know everything. And he barely knew me.” You had to laugh.

Sam felt a rush of jealousy flood through him, but he pushed it aside. “He offered me a place to stay because my boyfriend at the time told me to get out, and that he never wanted to see me again. You know why?” You asked.

“Hmm?” Sam mumbled, still listening intently.

“A male coworker sent me a friend request on Facebook.” You whispered. “It was bound to happen eventually, and I had an apartment lined up just in case. Things had been really bad for a while. But he just kicked me out, he didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. Just opened the door for me like I’d meant nothing to him for six years.”

“That’s terrible, y/n.” Sam consoled you, pulling you closer to him as he spoke. ‘I’d never do that to you.’ He thought to himself.

“Yeah, but I never would’ve ended up here if it didn’t happen.” You reminded him. “But Danny came with me as backup to get my shit from his house. He helped me move into the apartment I live in now. We got wine drunk together and the rest was history. He didn’t care that I was broken. He didn’t care that I had no idea how to make friends, because I was never allowed to have them. Just wanted to be with me.” You shrugged. Sam tried his best to just hear your words rather than think about how Danny felt about you, but he was struggling. “You know, I prayed for months that something would happen, anything to make life better. And he showed up that night. Just waltzed in and changed everything in an instant.”

“You love him, don’t you?” Sam couldn’t help it. The jealousy was surging through him. He wanted to listen to you talk, but his heart was breaking at the words you were saying. You lifted your head to look at him, noticing the expression of worry.

“Yeah, of course I do, Sam.” You were honest. “But it’s never been like that for me.” His body relaxed slightly. “Danny was always meant to be my best friend. He’s been the person I looked for my whole life. Someone to do stupid shit with, to make memories, to be my kids godparent, I love him more than anything, but I’m not in love with him, Sammy.”

“I’m sorry, I know that. I just… yeah.” He muttered. “I just get nervous, I guess. I know how he feels about you. I know how much he cares for you, and you for him. It’s hard to think that he could steal you away at any given moment.” He laughed quietly, more to himself. “You know, it would’ve made so much more sense if you ended up with him. He deserves you way more than I do.” He said, guilt seeping through his pores.

“It was never a matter of ‘deserving’ anything. If I wanted to be with Danny, I would be. I’m in love with you, and I always knew it would end up like this. The minute I met you… it was like all of the bullshit from the past didn’t matter. The pain from the last relationship didn’t hurt, because it brought me to you. It made it all make sense, you know?” You sighed, fingers still dancing with his. “I know we treated each other like shit for a long time, but I always knew. From the minute I saw you, I wanted to love you, to be in love with you. I wanted this, exactly what we’re doing right now.” His heart drummed against his ribs, threatening to break them. He couldn’t believe how much you affected him.

“Me too, baby.” He sighed. “All I want to do is love you; I’m sorry that I was an asshole for so long.” You sat up, moving around to sit on him. You straddled his waist, pulling his face in your hands and running your thumb over his cheek.

“We’re here now, aren’t we? Isn’t that what matters?” He smiled at your words, putting his hands on your hips.

“I guess so.” He agreed, catching your lips in a kiss. “I’m so lucky to be able to love you.” He breathed as you parted ways. “I want to know you. I want to know everything about you; I want to make sure that you know how you deserve to be loved. I hope I can do it properly.”

The sentiment of his words hung over the room like a cloud of serenity. You two enjoyed the alone time, rolling around in the bed, sharing kisses and laughs. You played music softly in the background, singing along to songs that had no meaning to you until that night. The evening dwindled by too quickly for either of your liking, slipping into the late hours of the night and eventually to the earliest ones of the morning. You wanted to live in that moment forever, where nothing was wrong and it was just the two of you making up for lost time. Sam made it so easy to fall for him, with his sweet words, loving touches and fantastic sex. He treated you better than you ever could have imagined a partner doing. The months of romance felt like an eternity; you felt like you’d known him like this your whole life.

Eventually, exhaustion enveloped the two of you and the music that was once fuelling your energy turned into lullabies. Sam was on his side, facing you with his arm draped over your bare torso. Somewhere in the events of the night, you both had ended up naked, but not resulting in a sexual motive. The intimacy of being completely exposed with no intent of sex was beautiful. It was just the two of you seeing each other completely, loving each other fully. Your eyes were drooping, barely being able to hold them open. His were similar, but he was forcing himself to stay awake so he didn’t miss a second of admiring you. His eyes on you, holding so much emotion behind them, felt like pure bliss. Being appreciated by Sam was the greatest feeling you’d ever experienced.

“I love you, princess.” He whispered, voice laced with sleep. “So much.”

“I love you, Sammy.” You said, the words coming straight from your heart. You were sure that you both had said it a million times that night alone, but the novelty of the phrase was too exiting to stop. Finally, the proclamation of emotion you’d both been feeling for so long was in the air, accepted and desired.

“I’m gonna take you to breakfast in the morning, before you have to go. Just me and you.” He promised. You smiled at his words but your chest ached at the realization you’d have to leave him again the next day. Although the time between now and seeing him next was much shorter than the one previous, you didn’t want to be away from him at all.

“I’d like that.”

“Me, too.” You laughed at him, barely awake and still trying to hold a conversation. You had both closed your eyes, finally giving your bodies a chance to rest, just minutes away from sleep. He pulled you closer to him, your head quickly finding its way to the crook of his neck. You drifted to sleep to the scent of him, finally feeling at home.

•

A violent knock on the door shook you both from your slumber. Neither of you had moved from the position you’d fallen asleep in. You both ignored the first knock, figuring it was one of the boys coming back drunk and wanting to chat. “Go back to sleep, baby.” Sam mumbled, clearly not caring about who was looking for him. You tried to do as he said, but another burst of loud knocking pried your eyes back open.

“Sam, open the fucking door!” You were upright now, immediately recognizing Danny’s voice. Sam groaned, reaching out for his phone.

“It’s 4 in the morning, man, go to bed! We can talk tomorrow!” He shot back.

“I know she’s in there, Sam. I just want to talk to her.” Danny pleaded. You could tell he was plastered. You could hear it in his voice. Your heart was racing, panic encased on your features. Sam gave a look to you as if to say it was okay. He rolled out of bed, pulling on a pair of pants as you searched wildly for clothes for yourself. You threw on the clothes Sam had given you earlier, crawling back in the bed and hoping that Sam could convince Danny to go back to his room. Sam wanted that, too, hoping you would just talk to him in the morning, when you were both sober and in the right state of mind.

Sam shuffled to the door. You heard him open it a crack before speaking again. “Just go to bed, Danny. You’re hammered.” Sam sighed, trying to reason with him.

“You’ve both been avoiding me for months and lying to my face the whole time. I’m done. I’m sick of waiting for you to decide to tell me the truth.” Danny snapped. Your stomach twisted in a knot, palms breaking out into a sweat. He knew. He’s known all along.

“Hey, stop, man. It’s okay. We can talk in the morning.” Sam muttered, obviously still half asleep. You didn’t understand how he was so calm about the whole thing. Sam made a move to try and shut the door, but Danny pushed it open again, not done with the conversation.

“Just let me talk to her, please.” Danny said again. “I know she’s in there. I saw her car outside.” Danny was pushing back on the door as Sam tried to hold it closed. “You can’t keep my best friend from me.” Something in Sam snapped at his territorial marking, not liking it in the slightest.

“Okay, fine, in the morning!” Sam was losing his patience. “I’m not letting you talk to her while you’re drunk and pissed off.” Sam was being overly protective, not willing to budge from him stance.

“I’m not going to fucking hurt her, asshole.” Danny argued. “She’s my best friend, Sam. I have to talk to her.” With a final push, Danny got the door open and stepped in the room. Sam sighed, stepping down and out of his way. Danny walked in, his eyes immediately landing on you. He stared for a moment, watching you sitting in Sam’s bed, wearing his clothes, looking scared. He felt a wave of hurt enveloping him. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, unsure of what to say. He’d gotten his answer already. He already knew what he would find, but he was hoping he was wrong.

“Danny,” you started, but he’d already turned to walk back out. Your heart shattered, but you pushed it to the side. You were not the one that should be upset in the situation. You jumped out of the bed, following after him. Just as he was rounding the corner into the hallway, Sam grabbed your wrist to stop you from following. “Let go, Sam.” You warned.

“Y/n, just wait until the morning. We’ve waited this long, we can wait one more day.” He begged.

“That’s the problem! We never should have waited this long to begin with!” You cried, still trying to shake yourself from his grip. “We lied to him. I hurt him. I’m still hurting him!”

“This isn’t a good idea, you’re both upset-“

“We’re going to be upset either way! I need to make it right with him before it’s too late. He’s my whole world, Sam.” You pleaded with him. Sam’s eyes darkened at your statement, once again feeling that pain he’d felt walking into Danny’s apartment the year before.

“What about me, y/n? Am I not part of that world, too?” He said, hurt dripping off of his words.

“What? Of course you are Sam, what do you mean?” You scoffed.

“I mean exactly what I said. This is just like it was in the beginning. No matter how many times we fuck, or how many times you say you love me, he’ll always come first, right?” You opened your mouth to retaliate, but found no words coming out. “That’s what I thought.” Sam rolled his eyes. “You wanna go talk to him? Fine by me.” He dropped your wrist. “It doesn’t matter what I think, anyway.”

“You’re jealous now, of all of the times you could’ve been jealous? We did something to hurt him and you’re pissed off because I want to make it right?”

“No, I’m pissed off because it seems like I was right the whole time. You may not have been fucking him, y/n, but he will always be the most important person to you. He says jump and you’ll do it, no matter how high. No matter who’s begging you not to.”

“Sam you’re being ridiculous.” You scowled, feeling the months of hatred and vicious words coming back.

“It’s four in the morning, y/n. He shows up drunk and wakes us up, barges in here and doesn’t even say a word to you, and you’re chasing after him. Im asking you to stay. I am begging you to at least wait until the morning, when he’s not drunk and you’re in your right mind, but you refuse to see that maybe that’s the most logical thing because like I said a million times before, he comes first, before anyone else. It. Will. Always. Be. Him.” He annunciated his words so harshly that it caused your blood to boil.

You couldn’t believe that after everything you’d told Sam, every memory and sweet word over the last few months, everything that you’d professed to him that night alone, he could throw this out the window so easily. Tears welled in your eyes, begging to be shed. You loved Sam, but he always seemed to be the one to know exactly how to break your heart. You thought that he’d changed, that him being an asshole was just one big misunderstanding, but maybe you were wrong. Maybe Sam would never change, no matter how much you hoped he would. “I’m not fighting with you over this, Sam. Not again.” You said, completely defeated. “I could go into the next room and spit on him, even kick him in the face and you’d still try and argue that I’m in love with him. You didn’t believe me when I told you the million other times, and you never will. I’m done fighting.” Your voice broke.

“If you leave,” he paused, eyes angry but you could tell it was covering sadness. “If you run out there after him, I’m done, y/n. I can’t always feel like I’m in second place.”

“That’s your problem, Sam. You’re trying to beat him in a race, but you guys aren’t even competing in the same one.” You took a step towards the hallway. “Oh, and if you’re genuinely giving me an ultimatum, whatever this is, ends here. Because if you make me choose, I will never forgive you.” You said, back turned to him now. You couldn’t see it, but a tear fell down his cheek, too. He didn’t answer, just watched you teeter between the hallway and his hotel room, hoping you’d turn back towards him.

“You say that because you know you’d choose him.”

“If you make me stay, we’re done.” You whispered.

“I guess we’re in stalemate, then.” He replied. You closed your eyes, praying he’d say something else, that he would change his mind. Instead, you were met with silence. You looked back at him over your shoulder, wanting to see him one last time before you made up your mind. The sadness in his features implored you to stay, to hold him and tell him you only ever wanted to love him, but the anger towards him that was brewing in your chest was overwhelming. “Please, y/n, come back to bed with me.” He tried one last time. You checked to make sure you’d slipped your phone and your car keys in your pocket when you got up, relieved when you found that you did.

“I love you, Sammy.” You whispered. His eyes glistened with hope, thinking that maybe you were going to stay. As soon as he’d let himself feel it, it was quickly shattered. You had stepped into the hallway and slammed his door shut, not even waiting for him to say it back. He stood, staring at the doorway where you’d been standing just seconds before, not knowing where to go from there.

.

Don’t worry!! It doesn’t end here, there will be a part three! 🫶🏻

[jawritter]

My Brother’s Keeper

Chapter 8

Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam

Word Count:  2737

Prompt: Snowball fight

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo​​​

Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)

Warnings: Throws fluff in your face.

A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!

Main Masterlist

“Has the plow come through yet?” Dean questioned as Sam walked through the door, shivering and kicking snow from his boots out of the still open door. Y/N shuttered, pulling the blanket she had draped over her lap tighter against the bitter bite of the cold wind that blew through the door. 

“Fuck no,” Sam answered breathless and struggling with the ski mask he’d adorned to venture out into the driveway. “It’s stop snowing, but that shit is deep, I don’t see them coming through here until later in the fucking week.”

“Well, you will just have to zoom what you can, and reschedule the rest, cause I highly doubt that anyone can even get into your office anyway,” Y/N chimed in, turning the page on a book she was holding more than reading. She was finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than Dean currently, but it was at least proper to pretend right? Pretend that he didn’t have a Goddamn choke hold on her. 

“Yeah, so it looks like I will be in my room all day long on zoom. Please don’t be dicks guys, I can see the smirk already forming on Dean’s face. No sex noises.”

Y/N snorted out a laugh at the absurdity that Sam thought they might actually be doing any adult activities between the pair of them period. Making out after a heavy drinking season was one thing, passing out on the couch together was one thing, but fucking, much less while stoned sober, was another. 

“No promises Sammy, You know me, I like I like everything in my life. Thick and loud.”

Y/N choke on plain air as Dean turned over his shoulder and shot her a wink. 

“TMI dude, just, you guys be quiet, I’ve got to zoom call a few clients to get ready for a court date at the end of the month.”

“Don’t worry Sammy, we’ll behave. I’ve got to try and get out there in that and dig out my baby anyway,” Dean said with a sigh, ''I know she’s technically under the carport, but I don’t like all that snow gathered up there by her rear end. I don’t want it to rust her paintjob.”

“I can help,” Y/N offered. She was so tired of being stuck in this house, trapped in her own head, that she thought that the bitter cold might make a nice distraction. Also, it would help cool down some of those raging hormones that Dean seemed to awaken every time he flopped down on the couch like he did just then and tossed his arm around the back of it. 

It was a simple action that probably meant nothing to him, but to her, it sent her stomach fluttering, and her thighs pressing closer together under her blanket. Especially when he was sitting there, mere inches from her, liking that perfect fucking lower lip of his that she so desperately wanted to sink her teeth into. Who the fuck was she anymore? She didn’t even recognize herself?

“Sweetheart, it’s freezing out there, I got it, it will not take me long just to shovel away from her trunk and tires. No need for both of us to be cold. Besides, when I come back inside someone’s gotta warm me up again,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at her with a face full of open innuendos, and Sam shuttered as he closed the door to his room, earning a cackling laugh from Dean. 

Y/N pouted at him, and he narrowed his sharp green eyes at her. 

“You’re not gonna listen to me are you?” Dean questioned, and Y/N grinned at him, her best, childlike, mischievous grin.

“Fine,” Dean said with an exaggerated eye roll, and she clapped her hands excitedly. “But you’re not allowed to shovel shit. You stay in the garage and keep me company, but stay out of that fucking frozen shit out there. I tried to get to the end of the driveway earlier and gave up. It’s that bad.”

“Deal,” she agreed, and bounded off of the couch to go and put on her boots and coat that were hanging by the door, while Dean got up to go to the guest room to retrieve his own. 

It wasn’t that she liked the cold all that much, quite the contrary, she hated it actually. It was more the fact that she needed to see the famous Baby she’d heard so much about. 

The day Dean had arrived, she’d been nervous about the potential of her new house guest, she hadn’t even bothered to look in the garage where he’d parked her. After he’d arrived, the blizzard hit, and no one was brave enough to open the door, so this would be her first time seeing Dean’s famous muscle car in the flesh. 

“Okay, ready to freeze?” Dean asked as he appeared suddenly into the living room, long, black trench coat, scarf, face covering, hat, gloves, and all. Pretty much all you could see were his bright green eyes poking out from underneath, and still somehow he was breathtakingly handsome. Even if he did have more covering on than a seral killer. 

Y/N snorted with laughter and nodded as she pulled her hat down over her own head. “You know, you’d think that you’d never been in the cold before,” Y/N said after a moment, still giggling to herself. 

“Laugh it up sweetheart,” Dean’s muffled voice came from behind his face covering. “Payback is gonna be a bitch though.”

“Dean, have you ever shoved snow before?” Y/N asked him, and Dean stopped to think about that for a moment. 

“No,” he answered after some thought, “no I don’t think that I have.”

“Well, you’re gonna start coming out of those layers after a few shovels full, I can assure you of that,” she informed him as he approached the door that led to the open garage. 

“You’re probably right,” he admitted, “but we’re just gonna wing it, cause I’m hoping she’s not too buried and just a couple of shovels full will do.”

“Suit yourself,” Y/N voiced with a shrug and opened the door for the pair of them, immediately gasping as the cold air hit her like a punch to the face. 

Living in Detroit, cold and snow just came with the territory. It was something she’d grown up with. Shoveling snow was by far NOT a new task for her. Dealing with being snowed in wasn’t either.  The part of the winter she never quite got used to was the cold. She could handle the ice. She could even handle the heavy snowfalls. But it was the bitter, biting cold that only came after a famous Michigan snowstorm that she never got used to, and probably never would. This is also why she vowed to never move or live any further north than what she did right now.

“Goddammit,” Dean quipped from behind her as she closed the door behind him, and followed her down into the garage. “You know, Sam really needs to see about getting this old garage closed in and escalated.” 

Y/N shivered as a gust of northern wind billowed through the opening at the top of the garage, “couldn’t agree more.” 

That’s when he saw her, and God she was a beauty, standing there in all her black, iconic glory. 

“Gorgeous isn’t she?” Dean asked, bumping her with his elbow as he passed with the shovel in his hand, making his way around the car to start shoveling the snow away that was piled higher than her tailpipes. 

“Beautiful,” Y/N admitted. She wasn’t exactly a car fan, but you didn’t have to be one to appreciate Baby. She shined like a black pearl. There wasn’t a scratch on her. Dean had kept her detailed down to her chrome accents. 

It was something really, to see how much care and devotion he’d put into the things he’d cared about. To take the time to make sure every minute detail of her was to perfection, and to even be out here, shoveling snow away from her, even when most people would have never braved the cold to do it. Sure, it was just a car, but to her it spoke heavily to the character of the man he was. 

The heavy sound of Dean’s shovel cracking at the snow brought her back to her present, and she turned to see him diligently working, but this time without the face covering, and missing a scarf. She smiled at the fact that she was proven right. When shoveling snow, it doesn’t take long to work up a sweat. 

That’s not what distracted her though, what really distracted her was the sheer to god work of art that this man was in front of her. Every movement he made was mesmerizing. While she hadn’t seen him shirtless, she could just imagine how his broad shoulders and chest muscles trained against the fabric of the dark green Henley he wore underneath his jacket. Or how this back muscles surely rippled like freckle dusted waves on an ocean. The way his breath came from his mouth in hot pants against the cold air, causing a puff of steam to form around him as he worked, eyebrows furrowed, and arm muscles building around the strained sleeves of his coat, all the way down to his powerful, bow legged stance as he bent to scoop another shovel full of powder away from Baby’s precious black exterior. 

“Like what you see, baby girl?” Dean questioned as he looked over his broad shoulder at her, wiggling his jean clad ass teasingly, and she knew she’d been caught, so she blushed deeply, and turned away, seeing a large pile of snow that had slid off of the roof not even for feet from where she’d been standing watching him, and she did the only thing a mature, helpful adult could do, grab a handful of it as he turned back to his work, and launch a ball of it right at his backside. 

Dean jumped and cursed as the cold ball of snow and ice made connection with his left ass cheek, and Y/N laughed as he turned to face her, an impish look on his handsome face, somewhat red with exhilaration that it had taken to shovel the snow away from his car.  

“Oh, that's how this is gonna be, princess?” Dean questioned, giving her a pantie melting smirk as he ditched the shovel in his hand for a fist full of snow of his own.

Squealing, Y/N took off around the impala, using her as a shield as she ducked, only just missing the launch of a snowball from his direction, erupting in a fit of laughter at his swearing when she ducked for another handful of snow herself. 

Two hours later, and more snow thrown than shoveled, Y/N and Dean found themselves in Y/N’s room with a hot cup of coffee, and the TV playing in the corner so as to not disrupt Sam, who was still on a zoom call with the client he’d been working with. 

“With that much snow on the ground out there,” Y/N stated as Dean lifted the covers to settle himself down next to her, “I don’t think you’re gonna be able to get out of her any time soon, cause all that powder is gonna turn into ice as the temps drop. I’m sure they will keep the roads closed until everything starts to warm up again, there’s only so much salt and road plows can do through these suburban areas.”

Dean just shrugged as he took a drink from his cup. 

“That’s fine with me, cause it’s not like I got much to go back to anyway.”

“Did you ever tell Sam you quit your job?” Y/N questioned as Dean scooted even closer to her, draping an arm around her shoulders, and settling the pair of them down deeper into the blankets around them. Y/N hadn’t even realized how cold she was until they’d gotten back inside, but with Dean next to her, all she could concentrate on was how SOLID the man seemed to feel. How warm he was. How good he smelt. Did the man have any fucking imperfections for fucks sake?!

“No, I was gonna… but he kinda offered me a proposal that I wanted to talk to you about before I made a decision,” Dean admitted, and Y/N adjusted so that she could see his face. It was heavily guarded, and there was nothing readable about him as he stared straight ahead to the television, purposely avoiding her gaze. 

“Okay, Shoot.” 

“Sam asked me to move in,” Dean admitted in a rush, and Y/N sat up a little straighter. 

“What? Really?” 

“Yeah,” he said, blinking at the TV, but not really focusing on it. “He asked if I wanted to move in, and start a private investigation agency down here. Seeing as he’s a lawyer, he thinks he can help with that a lot. He wants me to start over here with him. Leave all that bad shit in Kansas behind…”

Dean let his words drift away, and suddenly, Y/N’s anxiety tightened around her throat like a vice. 

If Dean moved in, what would that mean for her? Would she have to move out? Would the brother’s even want her around anymore? What would she do if they wanted her to move out? Sam said she could stay here for a while until she figured out what to do? Now he wanted to move in Dean, and she’d be stuck here again as the third wheel. 

“Hey,” Dean said, catching her attention from her worrying. “If you don’t want me to say baby I can go home, It’s okay, I haven’t made him any promises, I just thought you should have a say so too, seeing as you live here too.”

“No!” Y/N said, maybe a little too quickly, because as much as she didn’t know what him moving in might mean for her, she didn’t know how she’d handle him leaving.  She really, really did not want him to go. “I don’t want you to go home… it’s just… did he say if… you know… he wanted me to leave?” 

Dean blinked at the questioned as if it just didn’t compute for a moment, and he didn’t know what she was talking about, until the lightbulb almost visibly appeared over his head, and a range of emotions passed over his face she didn’t understand. 

“No, you’re not going to have to leave if I stay! Y/N, you’re one of the main reasons I’m even thinking about staying!” Dean admitted, and Y/N looked at him like he’d lost his mind. 

“What do you mean?” she questioned, and he reached for the remote to shut off the TV that seemed to be playing too loud suddenly in the background.

“Y/N,  I love my little brother, but Sam and I living and working together is nothing new, I mean, we did it for years. If I decide to stay… It would be because I really, really, like spending time with you, and maybe if you’d have me I’d want to hang around.”

Y/N blinked at him as if he were speaking another language. Like she’d fallen in the garage and hit her head, and now was having a fever dream of some sort. 

“You— you want to stay here because— of me?” She questioned, and narrowed his eyes at her the way he always seemed to do when she wasn’t catching on to whatever it was he was saying as fast as maybe he wanted her to, his dimples always showed when he did that, and fuck if it wasn’t the most beautifully distracting thing she’d ever seen. She’d never get tired of staring at them. 

“Yes, I like you Y/N, a lot, and… I don’t know, if you’re not opposed to dating an old man, I’d like to see where this goes between us?”

Y/N blinked and stammered at him for a moment, and if he’d not been watching her so intently, she probably would have pinched herself to see if she was dreaming or not. 

Chapter 9 HERE!!!

Forever:

@demongirl1996​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

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Jensen and Dean’s Babes

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[miscelunaaa]

em's favorite reads for 2022

Hello and welcome to the list I said I’d make like two weeks ago and used to procrastinate doing both edits to sacrificial and messaging a client back about plot stuff!! Because I have a job now and I’m still adjusting to the fact that I’m an adult even now after all these years!! 

It’s been a fucking YEAR. Even like for myself personally, like this year’s just been fucking nuts. And yet somehow I found the time to do an immense amount of reading. I keep track of books I read, and well, to make myself feel better about how few books I read this year (and last), I started keeping track of fics I read that were longer than 50k. After all, 50k is what NaNoWriMo calls a novel, so why can’t I? With that in mind, it looks like I read some 60 books this year, most of them booklength fics. Of course, the list I keep is not exhaustive, thought I like to think it’s still pretty thorough. This year saw me starting to peak into other fandoms and read within them on ao3, and it also saw me return to commercial romance in the form of the Bridgerton Novels. There were things that I started and took to long to decide I didn’t like, there were things that I started a few times and finally decided I loved, and then there were things that I finished and allowed to haunt me for days after, when I couldn’t find anything that could compare. 

The list below is a selection of my favorites. All of them are works that qualified for a spot my personal “completed reads” list, so that means that, whether they’re finished or not, they hit roughly 50k (or were close enough for me to say it counted).  There are only ten because I had to arbitrarily pick a number to limit myself to, otherwise I would be here just listing things for the rest of eternity. Also note that there’s a lot of mxm on the list! On this blog, we are friendly to member x member fics, and if you have a problem with that, you can see yourself out. There’s so little I won’t read that after a certain point, it seemed silly to rule out some tremendous and beautiful stories just because I was worried about people being earnest Twitter shippers. The same accusations of delusional thinking can be easily leveled at those who read and write member x reader fics. In the end, the intent with which something was rendered matters more.

Anyway, that is all to sat that when I love something, I really deeply love it, and I will attempt to scream at anyone who’ll listen to me to read it. Consider this me, screaming at you with love. Happy reading <3

Before we begin, it should go without saying that all of the fics on this list are mature in nature and that you should not interact with them if you are a minor. Which like also, if you're a minor, you should not be on my blog, period. Read more disclaimers here.

∞ Stars Lost in the Sea (ao3) by smiles | this might have been recommended to my by @vyduan?? I don’t recall but either way THANK YOU. 

yoongi x seokjin, 75k, complete. Read for kind-of period romance, time travel, so so much pining, being where you need to be at precisely the right time, the unexplainable weightiness of love lost and regained, characters that deserve each other in ways I can’t hardly fathom. 

∞ Restitution (ao3) by @cloudteawrites | recommended to me by @minttangerines!!

ot7 x reader, 48k, incomplete/in progress. Read for deliciously tense hybrid dynamics, unconventional takes on species assignments for characters, phenomenal and thoughtful world building, a fic worth reading even if it were to remain incomplete for the rest of time. 

∞ tell me about the seagulls sam (ao3) by ebenroot | recommended to my by my irl army friend kitkat!!

seokjin x jimin AND namjoon x jungkook, 149k, in progress. Read for wonderful depictions of mental health issues, riotously funny character interactions, platonic soulmates vmin, deliciously one-sided-ish enemies to lovers, characters you are guaranteed to want to put in your pockets. 

∞ A Breach of Protocol (ao3) by Anna (pineconepickers) and tragicamente

namjoon x seokjin, 81k, complete. Read for unrepentant beefcake joon content, earnest and wonderful portrayals of adults trying to figure shit out while still being in the public eye, THE BODYGUARD AU TO END ALL BODYGUARD AUS, flawless and authentic characterizations.

∞ trust in the weather (ao3) by melodiousb

namjoon x yoongi x jimin, 70k, complete. Read for the magic au that will haunt me for the rest of my miserable life, the historical au that will similarly haunt me for the rest of my life, a magic system that felt natural and not once overwrought, romantic tension brought on by being the third in an established relationship, learning to love because you want to and not because you must, finding one’s place in a new home. 

∞ Teardrop (tumblr) by @hesperantha | I had the immense pleasure of beta-reading most of this!!

yoongi x reader, 70k, complete. Read for a story that feels deeply of our time, unflinching and joyful queerness, roadtrips with people who feel like people, the feeling of being unable to describe what a person means to someone while knowing the feeling is both vast and simple all at once. 

∞ What the Stars Look Like Under You (ao3) by nicedress

namjoon x yoongi, 100k, in progress. Read for the only pornstar au I have ever read that doesn’t fetishize sex work, depiction of recovery from deep seated trauma, being deeply understood in ways one would never expect, returning to loves once lost, a flawless depiction of an unreliable narrator. This is the fic that has seen my tears for every single fucking chapter. I can’t make this shit up. I have actually cried for each chapter of this fic.

∞ Honey when you need it (ao3) by GraphiteFox

yoongi x reader, 82k, in progress. Read for a reader-insert filled with tremendous depth, a playboy Yoongi that feels authentic, side characters that enrich and delight, depiction of mental health issues that feels real and done with care, an author taking care of their characters in a way that feels palpable while also being refreshing. Like that’s hard to describe and talk about but when you know, you know. 

∞ Up We Go (ao3) by Oh_Hey_Tae | recommended to me by @wwilloww!!

yoongi x jimin x taehyung, 100k, complete. Read for magical throuples, stunning depictions of depression, a modern magic au that I will never stop thinking about, a fic that will feel for you when you yourself are so tired of feeling, stories about love that taught me more than I could have ever expected.

∞ but i want it anyway (ao3) by ameliabedelias

namjoon x jimin, 55k, complete. Read for a truly perfect Jimin depiction, awkward and lovable Namjoon, metaphors threaded throughout that truly add to the story while being built upon in all the right ways, moments between two people falling for each other that I just think about all the fucking time. 

Have something wonderful you read? Want to share what you loved throughout the year? Tag me! I want to know what you read this year and loved!!

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©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. Thank you.

posted: 12.14.2022

[simplee-dreaming]

The Great Escape

A/N: So this was requested by an anon and I had so much fun writing it, I think it's the longest fic I've ever written so I hope you enjoy! (Also, reading back over this, I realised I've mentioned Vision and Jarvis in the same story which I know isn't possible but I cba to change it because I love them both...even though they're technically the same...)

Word count: 2458

Summary: The reader tries to sneak out to a party, but Tony, Steve and Bucky are onto her.

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

“Are you coming tonight or what?” Your friend asked at the other end of the phone.

“Yes, yes I am. I’m just thinking of ways to escape without being caught.” You replied.

“You’re not in a prison, just walk out of the front door,” they said.

“I wish it were that easy. Tony’s already said no to me going so he’s gonna be on high alert. Don’t worry, I’ll find a way,” You said.

“Okay, meet me outside the party at 9, no later. Good luck, agent Y/L/N” your friend teased.

“Shut up, I’ll see you later.” You hung up the phone. It was half 5 in the evening and it took about 45 minutes to get to the party by walking. You decided you were gonna attempt to leave at quarter to 8, so you would have time to escape without being seen and enjoy a gentle stroll to the party.

“Everyone normally eats dinner about 6, then they tend to go off and do their own thing. This should be a doddle, right?” You thought to yourself.

At 6, everyone sat round the table together to eat.

“So, what’s everyone doing after this?” You asked, trying to work out everyone’s movements.

“I’ll be working on my latest model,” said Tony, shovelling a load of pasta into his mouth.

“I’ll be in the gym, pumping iron,” said Bucky.

“Vis and I have got a date night booked,” said Wanda. Sam made gagging noises next to them.

“Are you gymming too, Steve?” asked Bucky before spilling pasta sauce on his leg.

“Nah I did my workout earlier. I may chill with a film. Fancy joining me, Y/N?” He asked.

Shit. That backfired.

“Oh, uh, thanks but I can’t. I said I’ll phone some friends tonight.” You said, thinking quickly.

“Surely that won’t take long though, would it?”

You paused. Tony looked at you suspiciously.

“You know Y/N, she won’t shut up once she gets talking to her friends.” Peter piped up. You relaxed.

“Yeah, exactly. I’ll be up there for hours.” You said.

“Aren’t they all going to this party you talked about?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, no, not this lot. This is the nerd group I’m part of, they don’t party.” You said quickly. Tony grunted but said nothing more.

Once everyone finished eating, you raced back upstairs to find an outfit. Once you had gotten changed and done your hair and makeup, it was quarter past 7. Half an hour before you were due to leave. You were sat on your bed, scrolling through TikTok until half past 7.

“Sod this,” you thought. Waiting around for any longer would heighten your anxiety so you decided to put your plan into action now.

You left your room and decided to scan all exits of the building to see which one was the best option to use.

“Sir, I don’t mean to alarm you but Y/N seems to be acting pretty suspiciously,” Jarvis informed Tony. Tony was in his lab working on his latest project.

“What do you mean suspicious?” Tony asked.

“She’s wandering back and forth around the compound.” Jarvis replied.

“Maybe she’s just taking a walk.” Tony said.

“Sir, she’s wearing make-up.” Jarvis informed him. Tony stopped what he was doing.

“Makeup? She never wears makeup unless…” Tony stopped in his tracks.

“Jarvis, does Y/N appear to be scanning all the exits?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And does she look dressed up?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That little minx.” Tony said. “Jarvis, get Steve and Bucky up here please.”

“Of course, sir.”

A few minutes later, Bucky and Steve appeared in Tony’s lab.

“What’s up?” asked Steve.

“I’ve got a mission for you both. Y/N is trying to sneak out of the compound to get to this party of hers tonight. I’ve got eyes on her through Jarvis but I need your help to stop her leaving.”

“Tony, she’s just going to a party. What’s the big deal?” Bucky asked.

“The big deal is that she’s 16 and she’s going to a big party where there will be loads of people and most likely alcohol...or worse. Plus she’s already asked me if she can go and I’ve already said no so now she’s disobeying me.” Tony said.

“Oh. Right.” Bucky replied.

“Here are some ear pieces, I’ll stay here and tell you where she is and you go and stop her from leaving,”

“Roger that,” Steve said. “Mission: Trap Y/N is go.” He saluted Tony and left the room with Bucky. Tony sighed.

“Alright Tony, where she at?” Bucky asked quietly.

“Jarvis, I need eyes on Y/N.” Tony said.

“Sir, she is currently heading to the north exit.”

“North exit guys,” Tony spoke into their ear pieces.

“I’m closer, I got this.” Steve said. He quietly ran to the north corridor and saw you walking to the exit.

“Hey you, finished your phone call already?” He asked. You jumped and turned.

“Oh, uh, yeah, um, I was just going for a walk.” You said.

“Oh sweet, I’ll join you.” Steve said.

“Oh, um, well I just wanted some alone time,” you said, hinting at him.

“I’ll be quiet, I can do with some fresh air too.”

“Actually, on second thoughts, I really need to pee so um...yeah…” you said, jogging past him and back upstairs.

Shit. Back to square one.

You gave it a minute then decided to head to the east exit.

“Guys, she’s going east.” Tony informed the boys.

“On it,” Bucky responded.

He was closer to the door than you were so he decided to open it and lean against the threshold, as if he was just admiring the garden. You turned the corner to see him stood with his back to you. You froze in your tracks.

“Dammit,” you thought to yourself. You tiptoed backwards and headed for the south exit instead.

“Nice work guys, she’s going south now.” Said Tony.

“My turn,” said Steve. He, once again, appeared the same time you did.

“Oh did you pee? Fancy going for a walk now?” He said behind you. You rolled your eyes and turned around.

“Hey, um, yeah I did, but um I’ve changed my mind I don’t actually wanna walk anywhere now.”

“But you’re heading for the exit?”

“Uh, yeah, um...I...I got lost.” You said, shrugging.

“Lost? You’ve been here for 16 years…”

“Yeah, um, bit forgetful it seems,” you laughed nervously, “alright well back I go.”

You walked past him. Once you knew you were out of sight, you headed for the final exit to the west of the building.

“Alright guys…” Tony began.

“Going west, got it,” Bucky finished. He headed in your direction and deliberately walked straight into you.

“Whoa, watch where you’re going.” He teased.

“Sorry Buck,” you responded.

“Where exactly are you going?”

“Just going to get a drink then back to my room,” you lied.

“....dressed up like that?” He asked. You blushed.

“Um, yeah, we decided to dress nicely for our call earlier. Bit of a treat, you know?” You said.

“So...what are you doing at the exit if you’re getting a drink?”

“Thought I’d go around the outside to get some fresh air before entering the kitchen.” You lied, again.

“Without me?!” Steve said. You jumped.

“Oh uh, hey, um, yeah I changed my mind again.”

“Well can I at least join you this time?”

“Oh, uh..”

“What do you mean this time?” Bucky asked.

“Well I found her at both the north and south exits and she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to go for a walk or not. I offered my company and she said no.” He said.

“Maybe that’s why she said no.” Bucky teased. You giggled a little.

“So how come Steve caught you at the north and south exits and I caught you at this one and the east exit?” Bucky asked.

“Oh, I...um...I...wait, how did you know I was at the east exit?” You asked.

“Because we have eyes everywhere, Y/N.” Tony said, appearing behind Steve. He held up his tablet that contained Jarvis’ map. “I told them to follow you.”

“What? Why?” You asked.

“Because, you’re sneaking out to that party. Don’t think you can outsmart Jarvis now, Y/N.”

“Damn you, Jarvis.” you mumbled under your breath.

“I have been programmed to protect everyone in this compound, especially children.” Jarvis said over the speakers. Bucky, Steve and Tony all laughed.

“Oh very funny. I’m not a child.” You said, sarcastically.

“No you’re not, but you’re also not 18 yet which means you’re still legally under our care. And when I say you can’t go to a party, it means you cannot go to a party.” Tony said, taking a step towards you.

“But Tony, if I miss out I won’t be one of the cool kids.” You said.

“You live with all the cool kids here.” said Bucky, you rolled your eyes at him.

“I can’t believe you disobeyed me and tried to sneak past even Jarvis.” Tony said.

“I’m sorry for disobeying you, I really am. I just...I need to go to this. People are waiting for me.” You pleaded.

“No. Maybe I would have considered it if you didn’t break my trust. But now I want an apology.”

“I just said sorry.”

“No no, I want a proper apology.”

“What do you mean by a proper apology?” You asked.

Tony took a step towards you and you subconsciously backed away.

“Come here.” He said, sternly. You looked to Steve and Bucky for help but they just kept a poker face. You stepped closer to Tony.

“Now, I need to make sure you mean your apology and that you’re not going to break my trust again. Any ideas on how I’ll do that?” Tony asked.

“By putting a Jarvis tracker on me….oh wait,” you said, sarcastically. Bucky chuckled. Tony cleared his throat.

“Keep talking like that and this will be much worse for you.” Tony said.

“What will?” You asked.

“This.” Tony said. In one swift motion he had swooped you up and pinned you to the ground, careful not to hurt you in the process.

“What the hell?!” You complained, now trapped under Tony.

“I’m not going to stop until I know you’ve learned your lesson.” He informed.

“Stop what??” You asked. He pulled your arms up and pinned them above your head. He then took a single finger and wiggled it into your armpit. You instantly started giggling.

“Nononono wahait shit plehease,” you giggled.

“Not until I know your apology is sincere.” He said, wiggling another finger into your armpit.

“Please please please I am sohohorry,”

“No you’re not, not yet.” He said. With that, he let go of your arms and stuck both hands into your armpits. You pulled your arms straight down, trapping his hands in the process.

“WAIT NO PLEASE!” You screamed as he tickled deep into your armpits. Bucky and Steve both awed at your giggling mess.

"Come join, agents. You deserve some down time too.” Tony said to Steve and Bucky. They exchanged a look and smiled before walking over to you.

“NO NO NO NOT YOU!” You screamed, watching them approach. Tony was still tickling your armpits so Steve sat to the side and started kneading your hips. Bucky grabbed your legs and went for the back of your knees. You yelped and screamed and arched your body violently.

“AHAHAHAHA NOHOHO STOHOHOP!” You cried.

“Not until you’ve learned your lesson.” Tony repeated.

“I HAHAHAHAVE!” You cried.

“What do you think guys? Has she?” Tony asked the others. They both said “no” in unison. “Right then,” Tony continued.

He removed his hands from your armpits and started tickling your neck. You hunched up your shoulders and squealed. Steve noticed you were trying to pull Tony’s hands away so he shuffled up next to your head, grabbed your arms, pinned them above your head again and sat on them.

“WHAT THE HEHEHELL?!” You screamed, now unable to protect yourself from Tony. Steve gave an evil laugh then proceeded to drill his fingers into your armpits. You screamed louder than ever and frantically tried to twist away.

“NAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEASE!” Tears started forming in your eyes as the boys tortured you. Bucky adjusted himself so he was now sat on your legs. Having just taken your shoes off, he was now tickling the soles of your feet.

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE I’M SO SOHOHOHORRY!” You yelled through the laughter. Tony felt your legs trying to move and looked over his shoulder to find Bucky holding your toes and scratching at your soles. You screamed loudly again and fell into silent laughter, your face going bright red.

Tony looked at Steve and they both stopped instantly, but you were still screaming. They looked over and realised Bucky was still going, tickling both of your feet simultaneously.

“Buck, ease up now, don’t kill her.” Steve said.

“Oops,” said Bucky, climbing off your legs. Steve got off of your arms but Tony was still sat on your waist.

“I….I...I really am sorry, Tony.” You breathed out.

“I believe you,” he said. “Will you do it again?”

“Absolutely not,” You giggled softly.

“Good.” He climbed off of you and helped you up.

“What time does this party start?” He asked. You looked at your watch, it was now half 8 .

“In half an hour,” you said.

“Go and fix your hair and makeup. I’ll drive you there.” He said.

“Really?” You asked.

“Yes, really. I was too hard on you earlier. But you’re still only 16 so I’ll be collecting you at midnight, okay?”

You stood up and smiled at the three of them. Then you thought for a moment.

“No.” You said.

“Excuse me?” Tony responded.

“I’m not gonna go. I want to spend the night with my family.” You said. Bucky clutched his heart and let out a long “awww”, which made you giggle.

“Movie and snacks?” Tony asked.

“Movie and snacks.” You agreed.

You all walked back down the corridor together.

“So, does this mean you’re definitely not going for a walk?” Steve teased. You laughed and elbowed him in the ribs. He put his arm around you.

“Wait, let me get changed into something more comfy,” you said, running up the stairs. When you came back down, you got your phone out and messaged your friend.

“Sorry, can’t make it, got caught. See you another time.”

You then placed your phone on the side and sat down between Tony and Steve.

One by one, the other avengers slowly joined your little film group. It really was the perfect family night.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

destiel, 2.4k, mild hurt/comfort, happy ending. for @wormstacheangel who wanted a fic with anemic!Cas <3

"Cas?"

Dean hears a flump from the direction of the bedroom right as he finishes shaving his left cheek. It takes him about five seconds from there to dashing out of the bathroom, sink hastily turned off and half of his neck still covered in white, wearing an expression of worry that doesn't quite go with the foam beard.

Cas seems to hold the same opinion because his face splits in a wide grin the moment Dean enters the room.

A grin almost distracting enough for Dean to not notice that Cas is back on the bed, and suddenly wearing a blanket.

Almost.

"Goddammit, Cas." He sighs, huffing as panic slips away to make room for exasperation. He walks up to the bed, sets about righting the blanket around Cas.

Cas lets him.

"I should've known -"

"- Dean, I forgot -"

"- you were going to ditch your meds the first night after I stop bugging you 'bout them." Dean mutters, ignoring Cas completely as he makes weak attempts at protesting when Dean tucks one corner of his blanket all the way round at the other side, effectively turning him into what he mentally likes to call a Cas-burrito.

He doesn't like to call it anything at the moment though, cause right now, it's just proof of how Cas doesn’t listen.

Friggin' ex-angel of the lord, billions of years old, with libraries worth of stories and history in his head — but taking his meds when they're supposed to be taken, he forgets.

"It wasn't on purpose." Cas insists in a small voice, and Dean shoots an annoyed look at him before stepping back, finally finished with the blanket routine.

If you could call it that.

Well, Dean does call it that.

Because it happened often enough times after Cas's return from the Empty, human as the day Dean was born, to prompt both a title, and a reason to investigate why in the first place.

And not a lot of road to cover from typing in Cas's symptoms in a search engine — headaches, spells of dizziness, fatigue and feeling cold in general (things Cas had dictated to Sam who was typing, while Dean seethed from the next chair at not having been priorly informed of most of those things that warrant being informed about) — to ending up at the conclusion of a few billion (but actually just the first four) results, just minutes after.

Cas had anemia.

(The doctor Dean took him to the very next day, and Sam's completed research on the Novaks' medical history by the time they got back, confirmed it.)

Now, as far as the Winchesters were concerned, that was practically a relief — especially since their next place to look would've been old, tired books of curses, and the meekest of those would've been several times more worrying than the awfullest case of anemia one could possibly get - and Cas's, thankfully, wasn't even that bad.

However, curses are reversible. Or at least, equally as destroyable as their curse-rs are — who, usually, tend to be pretty destroyable when it comes to Sam and Dean.

Mineral deficiencies, on the other hand, are neither.

So supplements it is, as the doctor said and then prescribed — or so it should have been anyways, except for how the love of Dean's life was a giant baby when it came to taking pills.

"Sure it wasn't." Dean rolls his eyes, continuing in his exaggerated 'Cas' voice. "You just forgot."

Cas squint-frowns at Dean with all the ferociousness of a tired, cold and anemic four-weeks-old human, and Dean perches next to him on the edge of their bed with a sigh, the exasperation wearing off too.

(If he hadn't already wrapped them up, this would've been about the time Dean would've taken Cas's hands in his own.)

"Cas," He says, softer now.

Truth be told, Dean can't imagine what it must be like to go from being a - a being, that can heal itself and everything else, to a human who gets shivery and lightheaded cause of things inside of him he can't even control.

It's got to be terrifying, and obviously awful, and Dean's proud of Cas for the way he's been handling all of it — but dammit he's supposed to do the things that make it easier.

Just like he's supposed to let Dean take care of him.

"Dean," Cas replies, looking sideways at him with most of the stubbornness melted from his expression as well. "I'm a little cold but it's okay. I'm fine." He says, like he can still tell exactly what Dean needs to hear.

What he needs Cas to be.

There's a pause and Dean looks down at his hands. He can't help his next question, it's been on his mind for some time.

"What about the first time you were human?"

Cas noticeably withdraws into himself on hearing him, and Dean feels immediately a pang of guilt. It may have gotten easier to read him since he became human, but an accidental display of emotion was still a novelty. (Being difficult to read was apparently more of a Cas trait than an angel feature.)

"What about it?"

"Shouldn't you, uh," Dean pauses. "Shouldn't you also have been anemic then?"

Cas turns away from him, slow enough that Dean knows he's not taken offense, deliberate enough that he's thinking.

He finally answers, facing the wall ten feet away instead of Dean.

"I guess I was."

"But," Dean frowns. "I thought you had no idea you had anemia until last week."

"Dean, I didn't even know there was anything wrong with me until last week." Cas returns, his tone steady. "And back when I was human for the first time, I didn't either, because I'd never known what healthy felt like before, so I had no idea if I was or wasn't it. Of course I knew in an objective sense, say, the ideal temperature of the human body, but the ordinary amount of chilly one should feel on the streets in winter, or how hard or easy falling asleep is supposed to be, I couldn't have told you."

"Oh."

"And I still wouldn't have been able to," Cas turns back to him. "Had you not been the one to point it out."

Dean scoffs.

All he'd done was ask why Cas had been shivering in the middle of the day. That was it. Honestly, how could he not have seen it sooner?

"So you just," Dean lets out, afraid of the answer. "You just thought the cold spells and the, uh," he falters. "The being tired all the time — you thought that was part of being human?"

Cas smiles wryly. "It is for a lot of people."

"But —"

"And it was, Dean, anemia or not, for a lot of the people I lived with back then."

Dean's stomach bottoms out. He knows Cas is right. Six years ago, he'd been living on the streets, living in a bus. Dean remembers him — homeless, cold, sleeping on the floor of a Gas 'N Sip in his only set of clothes, Cas. And he knows he's responsible for it — knows he deserves to be hated for it, and it messes with him everyday that Cas doesn't — but did Cas really not even know what Dean had done to him? What Dean had — and Jesus, he detests himself — made him go through?

"You really thought all of us were going through that," Dean blinks. "And none of us was saying a thing?"

Cas doesn't look away this time and Dean goes on.

"I mean, I know you put humanity on a pedestal it doesn't deserve, and you think we're all capable of things you're capable of, but Cas, I can't believe you associated being human with being cold and tired, and —" Dean scrubs his face with a hand. "Goddammit, Cas! How could I have let you go out there on your own when you — h-how did I not see it, and — and you should never have had to deal with it all alone, I should've —"

"Dean."

It's not until Cas interrupts him that he realizes he's been rambling. Ranting, really, because it's not fair that Cas only got to see the worst of humanity, and it's not fair that Cas was so used to feeling awful that he just figured everyone felt that way all the time. That Cas was all alone at a time Dean should've been there for him, should've been at his side, been there to make sure he was warm, and make sure he ate spinach and seafood and whatever the hell else is rich in iron — hell, Dean should've looked it up sooner — and Dean should've been able to tell that Cas was sick, even if Cas couldn't, because that's his job.

He hasn't felt this way in a while — this particularly familiar fear of failing Cas, and losing Cas, entwined horribly, returning to him; seeping back in through his skin, and settling on his bones like the vast sediments of guilt and loss he's been carrying for most of his life.

Cas is supposed to be okay, and Dean's supposed to make sure he is.

But so far as upto here, turns out Dean's just been failing in more ways than he'd even known.

"Dean," Cas repeats, pulling him out of his reverie with determination in his voice, and a hand on Dean's left arm, his blanket now hanging off of one shoulder.

Dean immediately reaches to make it right but Cas holds him right where he is. Physically and not-drowning-in-his-own-head wise, and he's the only one who can do that.

"You're not listening to me."

Shit, Cas had been speaking this entire time, hadn't he? "Sorry, I was -" Dean looks Cas in the face to apologize, and lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, cause thank god, Cas isn't that pale. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Cas smiles, and it's not lopsided anymore, it's just Cas.

(Dean wonders if he should try to mirror it.)

"I was just saying that now I know that that's not the only part of being human."

"What do you mean?"

"The pain and the suffering, Dean. That's not all." Cas says. "There's also love, and kindness, and worry of the non-lifethreatening kind that dissipates with a smile, and warmth."

Dean stares at him.

"And sure," Cas shrugs. "I knew those things before too — I've read books, I've watched you and Sam — but now I've felt them as humans do, for the very first time, so it's a different kind of knowing."

Cas takes Dean's hand in his, and Dean's the one who squeezes.

"I believe the human expression is 'knowing it in my bones'."

Dean lets out a strained laugh in spite of himself. "Dunno, man. I don't think that's exactly what that means."

"But I do know it in my bones." Cas says simply, and Dean's heart does that thing where it feels too big for his chest. How Cas could go through so much, and still be so full of kindness and good, is one of the mysteries of life Dean's never going to solve — but it doesn't stop him from falling a little bit harder every time it happens.

"You should've gotten to know it the last time too, Cas." Dean tells him, sighing again. "I'm just — I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Well, you are now." Cas tilts his head. "And I prefer the things I'm learning this time over the last time anyway, and I believe it's you who's always taught me that the present is what matters the most. I'm just glad you're here this time."

"And I'm not going anywhere." Dean squeezes their hands tighter, and Cas's smile grows. God, he deserves the world and he keeps settling for Dean, doesn't he — and Dean hates it, and loves it, and couldn't live without it. He puts his other hand on Cas's face, gloving his cheek. Cas leans closer.

"I love you."

Dean's throat constricts. "You're too good to me."

"I think that's the point."

Dean can't help but smile, and he really can't help the tears.

"I'm okay." Cas says, once more. "Are you?"

There's only one answer, and nothing to fight this time.

Dean closes the gap.

"I love you too."

It's not their first kiss, nor is it the first time they've ever said it — but it feels more significant than anything's felt before. It's more them, too — not sickly-sweet or angry and fighting, just them, coming around to the end of a hard talk, falling into each other's arms with an ease they reserve for each other only, and sinking into each other, slow and perfectly synced, like they're made for it.

When they pull back, a moment later, Dean leans his forehead against Cas's and licks his lips. Breathes.

"There's so much more to being human," he hears himself saying. "Than you'd ever find out just living here in the bunker with us."

"Dean," it's Cas's turn to sigh. "I've already found everything I need."

Dean's cheeks heat up. "I thought it was never too late to learn."

"It isn't." Cas leans back, hands falling back to his sides from where they were wrapped around Dean's neck. "But sometimes, practising old things is more important."

Dean immediately dissolves into laughter. "Yeah, no, great going. Call me old before you go to town practising on me."

Cas ignores him save a twinkle in his eyes. "And some things, I'd like us to learn together."

Dean grins.

"And some things," Cas concludes, with a wide smile. "Aren't taught anywhere else in the world."

"Yeah?"

Cas shrugs.

"Why so?"

"Well, rumor has it the teacher's afraid of flying."

Dean freezes for a moment, silent, and then snorts — because yeah, that's funny, Ha Ha, but okay, if Cas is fit enough to make jokes, then he's fit enough to take his meds now, and Dean tells him that gleefully, resulting in Cas's grin immediately turning upside down as he tries to scoot away from Dean, except Dean's kinda expecting it so he's prepared to launch himself on the bed if he has to — and he does have to, cause Dean might love him for his heart, and his courage, and his kindness, but remember how Cas is just a baby in a trenchcoat?

Yeah.

(And that is just a regular morning in the Winchester household.)

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 1

I'm finally back with some more rowaelin! I started this fic in november last year and wrote the first 10k in 24 hours, but from then on this fic was a struggle... Thank you so, so much to @morganofthewildfire for sharing so much of your time to help me with this, this fic would not be here without you 💗 I'm so happy to have finally finished it and can share it on here. I hope you enjoy

CW: past drug abuse, minor character death, violence

7.7k - masterlist - ao3

--

When her agent sends her the script it’s not the first time she’s heard of Rowan Whitethorn, his name is written at the top under the heading director, which itself is under the big red text reading confidential. He’s been at this stuff for a while now, directed a couple of movies that popped up on her radar but that nothing ever came of for her, and he’s well known in the business.

He was even nominated for an Oscar a couple of years ago, and she watched the ceremony with Lysandra, slapping the bills into her outstretched hand when he didn’t win.

His movie had been far too fucking raw for him to have won, she knew that, a tale about a group of kids who witnessed a murder and how it stayed with them and fucked them up into adulthood, but it had stuck with her nonetheless and she’d put her money on him anyway.

She reads the section of script Dorian has sent her, tucked up in bed with a glass of sparkling water and her most comfortable sweater, leaning back into the mountain of expensive pillows she had Elide buy for her and pondering how so much money could end up so uncomfortable, and she knows it’s something special.

She realises she wants this role, almost to an uncomfortable degree, when she’s about five lines in. The heroine is bratty and rash, but serious and pained in a way that makes her completely fleshed out and Aelin wants to play her, wants to be her and embody her in a way that takes her out of the pit she’s in.

She hopes this could be what gets her out of it.

Aedion had tried to pull her out, gods bless him, dropping by her apartment every morning for weeks to check up on her with a coffee in his hand, topped with cream and two sugars the way he knows she likes. Each morning he let himself in with her spare key, the one she gave to him the day she moved in, wanting him to be able to let himself in whenever he wanted but also knowing there was no one else she wanted to give it to.

She would have given it to Sam, would have given everything to Sam, but he’s gone and she’s left sitting here, wondering how to salvage what’s left of her reputation.

What reputation she had even managed to build after starring in one mediocre TV show and a handful of low-budget movies. She knows deep down, and in a way her brain likes to remind her of when she’s at her lowest, that the main reason she isn’t a complete nobody is because she’s Evalin Ashryver’s daughter. Her therapist tells her every time she bothers to go to a session that having a famous mother doesn’t mean she’s a failure and that she has to recognise each of her successes as her own. She nods along every time, but she doesn’t believe her. What has she managed to accomplish truly on her own?

It hasn’t been made public yet that Rowan Whitethorn is involved in the film, she only knows because Chaol wrote the whole script himself and texted her to let her know when he signed on to direct. She’s known Chaol since she was eighteen and took her first solo trip to Rifthold, drawn to the lights of the big city and the almost magnetic pull of the heart of the industry. He’d stumbled upon her in a club she was far too young to be in and had pulled her out, sending her home in a cab that he paid for. Looking back she was grateful for his attempt to avoid what she knew later was an inevitability.

She had cursed him when he told her she’d still have to audition, but she gets it. She hasn’t exactly behaved in a way recently that makes people want to take a chance on her.

Stumbling out of clubs, eyes as wide as saucers and high as a fucking kite isn’t the kind of star casting directors are desperate to hire, but she’s trying to be better. She’s promised those around her that she’ll be better, and she knows that the only reason she hasn’t ended up in rehab is that she has an incredible therapist and a highly persuasive manner of dealing with her friends and family. The only reason they’ve taken that chance on her is time, and she’s grateful for that mercy.

She turns the page, hitting the final line for the third time. Chaol’s script is so good she’s read the few pages she’s been sent over and over.

She only reads scripts in physical copies, takes the time to print them out using her shitty printer that belongs right back in 2008, and she knows it’s wasteful but she allows herself that small luxury of the crisp paper in her hand as she delves into each new world. Her character is in the middle of a teary monologue that she knows exactly how she’d do, the way she’d halt her breath and choke out the words-- it’s not her character. Yet.

The audition is next week, and she’ll work her ass off to make sure she’s ready. Her usual pre-audition ritual involves taking up far too much of Lysandra’s time to practice reading the lines and filming herself time after time, take after take, and watching it back in the unholy hours of night until she’s happy she’s made an improvement.

Or at least that’s how she used to do it, nothing has made her want a role like this in a long while. She worries as she bites her lip, that wanting something this much means she’s getting over Sam. That maybe one day she won’t think of him and hear the pounding in her ears, won’t feel the lightheadedness that comes with a memory of their time together. Worries that if she forgets the sounds of his screams she’s failing him somehow.

She takes another sip of her sparkling water. It’s poured into a wine glass so she can at least pretend she’ll get the relaxation she craves. Alcohol was never one of her vices but she finds it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s unhealthy as far as coping mechanisms go, but she’s been worse so it’s going down as a win.

Chaol told her some guy called Brullo is casting this one. She’s never heard of him, which is kind of rare. She’s been on the periphery of this bubble for pretty much her entire life, following her mother around her own movie sets and sitting on the wooden directors chair when her legs still dangled off the side, but if he’s like any other casting director in Adarlan she knows how to impress him.

When she reaches the last line of the part of the script she’s been sent, her mind wanders again to Rowan Whitethorn.

He’s the kind of director up and coming actors can only hope to one day work with, even though she’s pretty sure he can’t be much more than thirty, he’s built himself to a level where he can be choosy with his projects.

It's a well deserved privilege. Each of his works has stayed with her after watching, his style is gritty and dark, but grounded in a way that leaves her empty each time after finishing.

She wants this, and she buries the guilt she feels for that. Sam would want her to want this. She deserves it, or at least she hopes she can come to.

Dorian books her a mid-morning flight so she doesn’t have to wake too early before the audition, he’s a damn good agent and one she definitely doesn’t deserve with his seemingly endless patience, but she’s continuously grateful for him.

Aelin styles herself for it, ties her hair back and leaves the makeup to a minimum in a way that she hopes shows them she’s right for the part, that she can be the insecure little girl who experiences far too much. She knows she doesn’t have the sheltered innocence the character has, but she’s an actress and this is what she does. Aelin pretends for a living.

He’s also booked her a room in a pretty nice hotel for the night, she’s not sure whether he’s used her meagre acting funds or the funds from the account she knows he mom throws money into every month. It’s an argument she and Evalin have had repeatedly, she wants to stand on her own two feet, but she never protests too hard. The account kept the roof over her head when she was too busy snorting her life away to consider where her next paycheck would come from.

Aelin throws herself backwards into the crisp white bedding on the hotel room bed and takes a deep breath. The only luggage she brought with her is a carry on slung somewhere by the door and the room feels too empty to sit here and wait for the car that’s arriving to take her to the studio in just over an hour. If she sits here and waits the nerves will only build, and then she’ll itch for something to take the edge off.

She picks her phone up to text her cousin.

Jet lag from a 2 hour flight. Who would have thought?

Aelin waits two minutes for a reply, locking and unlocking her phone as she sits there, but one doesn’t come. Aedion’s probably at a training session and not checking his phone. Aelin runs a hand through her hair, careful not to dislodge the pins she placed carefully in it this morning, she needs to stop using him as her crutch. She knows he doesn’t mind, but it’s not right either way.

She needs to get out of this room.

The streets of Rifthold are busy and crammed as she meanders down them, clutching the takeout coffee cup she bought from a vendor with a stall at the side of the road.

People pay her no mind as she walks, the oversized shades hide her eyes that she knows are a dead giveaway for her membership of the Ashryver line. Even if she didn’t wear them, everybody else here wants to be someone, and so far she can still blend in if she tries.

She sends a text to the assistant organising the audition, it’s kind of shitty of her but she keeps it brief because she can’t remember their name, letting them know the car isn’t needed anymore and that she’ll make her own way there. She needs the stroll through the streets to clear her head.

Aelin needs to nail it. She hasn’t felt the twisting of desire so sharp in her stomach for a long time and the only way she’ll manage it is with a clear head.

She alternates her breathing with sips of her coffee, the taste is bitter but she keeps drinking. She pulls her phone out to check the directions to the studio.

Spontaneous isn’t a word Aelin would use to describe herself anymore, any longing to go with the flow died the minute she lost control. It’s safer now to plan, to make sure she won’t lead herself astray.

Brullo is a man in his mid forties, with dashes of grey seasoned through his muddy brown hair, and kind lines around his eyes as he smiles and shakes her hand. Aelin wipes the sweat off her palm on her jeans before clasping her hand in his.

The audition goes about as well as she can hope for, she remembers every line, and the other casting director is fairly natural reading the lines for her to act against. Aelin swallows back her tears after she finishes, trying to keep what dignity she can to end the audition when there’s snot threatening to run down her upper lip. It was a brutal scene to start with, but if she can pull this off she can surely manage the rest.

Brullo’s expression is carefully guarded as she leaves, giving nothing away, but Aelin thinks she did a good job, which is all she could have ever hoped for.

She’s staring at the tiled floor, mulling over Brullo’s parting words, thanks Aelin, our people will be in touch, when she hits something hard and warm.

She’s too busy dissecting those eight words to register exactly who it is with their hands clamped around the top of her arms, steadying her as she stumbles, but she looks up and her gaze meets that of a pair of striking, green eyes.

The man gripping her is easily over a head taller than her, broad and strong enough that she fights back the shiver that wants to roll through her at his touch. He’s staring down at her, the strong planes of his face drawn into a deep frown, with his strangely coloured eyebrows pulled in.

They’re a kind of silver that matches his short cut hair, and it shines in the fluorescent light of the hallway in a way that it can only be natural, but she’s never seen a shade quite like it.

“Sorry,” she manages to stutter out, still thrown from the vulnerability of her audition.

“It’s alright.” His voice burns through the words, his accent rolling in a way that raises hairs down the back of her neck. He flashes her a dangerous grin and she steadies herself. She knows what that look means. She’s used to the male attention, and as much as she hates to acknowledge it, she knows her looks are an element of how she’s got as far as she has. That and her family’s name.

The decision of whether to register in the guild as Aelin Ashryver or Aelin Galathynius was one she had spent hours deliberating over. Did she want the level of independence Galathynius would give her, or the reputation being an Ashryver would bring?

The man releases his grip on her shoulders, but not before running his hands down her arms until he reaches her wrists which he releases with a light squeeze. She takes an almost imperceptible step back, leaning back to breathe some air into her lungs. All she ends up doing is filling her mind with this man’s smell, inviting and intoxicating, a delicious combination of pine trees and snowy winter mornings.

“I don’t usually go around slamming into people like this,” she tells him, letting some of her snark slip through. He’s said two words to her so far but she knows he can take it, and she wants to play.

His grin becomes even more wicked and it truly is a sight to see. This man is built like a god; broad, muscular shoulders stretching the white button up he wears and she spies the dark lines of a tattoo threatening to slip past his collar.

It’s been a couple of months since her last mindless hook-up, and this man would more than do. The mischief glimmering in his eyes tells her he’d know how to make her gasp and beg.

“Slam into me anytime.” His words are a sensual croon and her mouth drops open slightly, but he sidesteps her before she can manage to speak again, nodding towards the door she’s come through. “Good luck with whatever you were here for.”

With that he’s gone, leaving her to turn and watch the way his grey slacks pull against his thighs as he walks away from her.

Aelin tries not to think too much about the outcome of the audition, and flies back to Orynth in economy class with a sleep mask tucked over her eyes lest she be recognised when all she wants to do is curl up in bed and be alone for a bit. That or get fucking wasted, and she can’t do that.

She tries far too hard to forget about the man from the hallway, forget about the way his voice had rumbled deep in her chest and the tug in her belly that his words had sent through her.

She begs Elide to come to a bar with her, and she agrees. Aelin needs to pay her more, maybe change her title from publicist to publicist-come-part-time-therapist-and-life-saver. Aelin’s not sure she has the budget for that really.

Elide would smack her if she knew Aelin’s thoughts. Would scold her for looking at Elide just like an employee as if they weren’t childhood friends and Elide hadn’t been there holding her hand through the whole Sam thing. As if she, Lysandra and Aedion hadn’t been her only reason for being here now.

A bar might be a risk, but she can sip her sparkling water while she browses the small selection of men that Orynth has to offer.

She enjoys the easy conversation she has with Elide, chatting about what their friends have been up to, even though most of them are mainly Elide’s friends at this point. After Sam she stopped speaking to everyone but those who were necessary. She couldn’t manage any more than that.

“You should come with us next time,” Elide is saying as she sips her own lemonade. Aelin knows Elide would normally choose a crisp glass of white wine over a lemonade and her sobriety solidarity touches her heart.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, noncommittal.

The look Elide wears tells her she’s debating pushing the issue for the millionth time against the risk that Aelin would pull back again. She hates that she does this to her friends so she sighs.

“Text me next time,” she tries. “I’ll see if I’m free.”

Elide offers her a thankful smile, and Aelin returns it, trying to tell herself this is what she needs and that she shouldn’t just stay locked up thinking about Sam.

There’s a dark haired guy at the bar catching her eye, his jeans are far too tight and his shirt is ridiculous, but she can see the body beneath and his face is striking. Elide notices her stare and smirks.

She likely knows why Aelin invited her out tonight, but doesn’t mind. Lorcan’s probably waiting for her at the home they share, waiting for her to come back so they can be in love. Aelin hates the bastard, except she doesn’t. She introduced her friend to the tall, dark and grouchy hockey player at the wrap party for the shit teen movie she did a couple of years back, and she’s big enough to admit she wants what they have.

She had what they have.

What’s left in her glass slips down her throat easily in one mouthful and she promises to text Elide tomorrow before slipping out of the booth and over to the guy at the bar.

“You going to just stare at me all night?” She asks with a sly smile. “Or did you plan on doing something about it at some point?”

His smile makes him look even more attractive.

“Maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move, a beautiful girl like you can be intimidating.”

It’s a shit line and she rolls her eyes, but tugs him into a cab back to her place anyway.

“Please.” Her voice shakes as she begs. “Please don’t do this.”

The man in front of them scoffs and Sam squeezes her hand, his palm rough against her own.

“Aelin, baby. It’s okay, just do what he says.”

He lets go of her hand and turns back to the guy in front of them. His face is covered by a black mask, only two slits show her the dark brown of his eyes. She can barely look away from the knife he holds out in front of himself, it’s pointed at Sam but that doesn’t make her feel any better, it makes her feel worse in fact.

“Your wallet,” the guy demands.

Tears are rolling down her cheeks, fat and hot, as she fishes around in her bag for her purse.

“Just dump the whole thing,” the guy growls, irritated, but she’s pretty sure she’s going into shock and she can’t focus. Can’t breathe.

Sam’s voice is steady by her side as he throws his own wallet onto the street in front of them.

“Alright, man. We’re doing everything you say.”

“Hands up.” The mugger’s voice is sharp. “Don’t fucking move.”

She raises her arms straight in the air, trying to control the way her hands are shaking and the attacker ducks down to grab their things.

She lets out a tiny whimper and feels Sam spin to her, his eyes begging her to trust him. No, she shakes her head.

“I said don’t fucking move,” the guy yells and lunges for Sam.

His scream cuts the night air and she whirls, hands dropping into the air between them as he drops to the ground. The mugger takes off, sprinting down the empty street and she falls to her knees by Sam’s side.

In the dark, the pool spilling out across the floor by Sam’s side just looks black, but she knows that really it’s red. She’s not stupid. His face is twisted in pain and her hands flutter around his torso before she manages to pull back the flap of his jacket.

There’s a hole in his white t-shirt and now her jeans are wet where she kneels.

She needs her phone, needs to call someone who can make this all better, but her phone is gone.

She presses her hands against his side and his eyes shutter closed as he gasps. His breathing is stuttered and uneven.

“Sam. Sam, no,” she cries. “I’ll get help. You’re okay.”

“Aelin.” He raises a hand to press against her cheek, and the blood on it is sticky and warm.

“No, Sam. No, stay with me.”

The scream that tears through her throat will hurt tomorrow but now she barely feels it. “HELP!”

His breathing becomes much quicker as she presses on his side and screams again.

She knows abstractly that she’s crying, tears and snot streaming down her face as she desperately presses her hands against his side.

There’s a strong arm around her waist, tugging her back and away from Sam, and she screams one word over and over.

“No, no, no, no.”

There are people here now, leaning over Sam, leaning over his body.

“NO.”

Aelin gasps as she launches up in her bed. The sheets are stuck to her clammy skin and her head flies to the side. The guy is gone, the side of the bed he occupied when she fell asleep now cold. Good.

She lives it over and over in her dreams, sees the dark street more often than not, feels the phantom warmth of his blood down her legs. Wakes screaming herself hoarse just as she did that night. She doesn’t normally let people stay the night. Even when Aedion tried for the first few weeks after the fact, she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t turn her brain off for even a second. Every time she closed her eyes she was back on that street, begging and pleading for him to open his eyes.

She grasps at her side for the switch of her bedside lamp and flicks it on. Her room is cold and empty and she hasn’t had it in her to decorate past the basics so it’s plain and impersonal when she looks around, trying to calm her breathing.

She checks the time. 6:25am. Not bad, she must have managed about six hours of sleep last night, and it’s more than she usually gets.

There're a few texts waiting in her inbox, including one from Elide, and she expects it to be a request to let her know that she got home safe but it’s not.

Call me as soon as you wake up.

Sent at 6:02am. Elide is a chronic overworker, no matter how much Aelin begs her to stick to a 9 to 5 schedule, but she couldn't imagine her friend any other way. The smiling emoji at the end of the text lets her know it’s nothing she needs to panic about, so she takes a moment to scroll through her other messages. It’s unusual for her to wake up to so many.

She clicks on her conversation with Dorian, the only message she can see, his most recent one, just says Aelin. He has sent her nine messages while she slept, and she scrolls up to reach the first one.

Aelin, you did it. You booked the Rowan Whitethorn movie.

Her heart pounds in her chest, running into overdrive as she processes the words on her screen.

She got the part. She fucking did it.

This is one of those moments she knows she’ll remember.

Dorian has forwarded over a number of contracts and official things but she ignores them in favour of dialling Elide’s number.

“Aelin!” Her friend’s voice is breathy when she answers. “Congratulations, I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, El.” A pause where she takes a deep breath in. “I can’t believe it.”

She falls back onto her mattress, pressing a fist to her lips as she smiles, eyes closed, almost giddy as she listens to her friend talk.

“They’re putting a press release out today at 12:30, announcing you and the male lead, who I haven’t found out yet but I will.”

“Oh my gods,” she sighs, covering her eyes with a clammy hand.

“I know,” Elide laughs.

She allows herself one tear as she stares up at the white of her ceiling.

This is big, she can feel it.

Later her phone buzzes as Elide sends her links to two different articles breaking the news.

Fenrys Moonbeam and Aelin Ashryver to star in new Chaol Westfall drama. More to follow.

Rowan Whitethorn signs on to direct The Crescent City, the latest project from Chaol Westfall (Throne of Glass, The King’s Hand & more).

She presses the phone to her chest as she lets out a sigh of relief.

It all moves pretty quickly from that point.

She’s on a plane back to Rifthold the next day and Chaol has sent over the whole script for her to read on the plane, bypassing Dorian completely even though that’s how it normally goes and she knows the two are like brothers.

Chaol was the one to introduce her to Dorian, and they kind of took her under their showbiz wings in the first few years she began to get really serious about acting.

They gave her the inside scoop, having been in the industry for a few more years than her. Chaol writing and making movies and Dorian doing all the background stuff like contracts and negotiations and exposure. They took her to their wrap parties that everyone knows are just networking events and introduced her to some of the big names in the industry without so much as batting an eyelid, and she knows she owes them a lot.

The script is phenomenal, and she has to try and hide the tears that form when she reaches the end, it probably wouldn’t be the best start to the project, being photographed crying on the plane on the way to start shooting. It really is some of Chaol’s best work, and she sends him a text when she lands that says fuck you, I hate it, but his reply lets her know he knows she’s joking.

It tells the story of her character, Feyre, and how she’s dragged into selling drugs to pay for her mom’s hospital bills. Along the way she meets Fenrys Moonbeam’s character, Rhysand, the glowering bad-boy who’s well established in the gang and together they see some shit and do some shit but manage to get out together. The topics are kind of cliché and over done, but Chaol has managed to add a level of originality to it that makes it really special.

It’s heavier on the romance than Rowan Whitethorn’s previous projects, but it’s gritty enough that she can see why he’s signed on. It’s going to be hard, she knows this, and it will really push her to her limits trying to embody the range of emotions her character goes through. But she wants it, and she will make her performance incredible if it fucking kills her.

There’s a niggling part of her brain that reminds her that she’s surrounded by some big names on this project, names that are big for a reason, and she can’t let them hiring her be a mistake.

She sends Chaol a follow up text, wtf are these names btw???

He ignores her.

When she’s in the car taking her to the apartment the studio is renting out for her while they film she decides to take a little trip through Instagram and look up her new co-star. Fenrys is a household name by now, a couple of years in after his debut, but it can’t hurt to know a little more about her leading man.

f.moonbeam01 comes up as the first option when the types the three letters f e n into the search bar and he has over eleven million followers.

Shit.

Not that she needs a reminder but it slaps her in the face that this is actually big. Aelin only has a few thousand followers herself and Elide has already told her to prepare herself for that to rise.

His Instagram is a mixture of mostly photos of himself, some selfies and some professional shots, and he’s obviously gorgeous. His deep brown complexion playing well against his golden curls with a straight strong nose and flawless white teeth. He’s definitely leading man material, and she can tell just how charming his grin is even through a screen.

There are also promo pictures for all the movies he’s involved in at the moment, there are at least three projects he has coming out this year. Damn.

His most recent picture is a screenshot of the article announcing their casting, and he’s actually tagged her in the photo along with Rowan himself. She hasn’t seen the tag until now, it’s normally Elide’s job as her publicist to tackle the professional side to her social media, but there’s 6.4 million likes on the photo.

Again, shit.

She can’t help herself from clicking onto Rowan’s account, rowanwhitethorn is a pretty simple handle. He only has 27 posts, most of them are behind the scenes shots from projects, one with his classic director’s chair that has his surname printed across the back in thick white lettering, and a few pictures of different cameras and pieces of equipment.

There’s only one picture of him on there, and it’s from 2017. He has his back to the camera and the sunset behind him lends a shadow that covers all of his features. Very artsy she muses to herself as she double taps the screen to like it, he probably won’t see anyway, the notification will probably get lost in the ones his account no doubt gets from his 2 million followers. The only thing she can gather from the photo about his physical appearance is that he has pretty broad shoulders.

She’s tempted to google him, wanting to know what he looks like, but she feels a bit too much like a stalker, and she knows she’ll meet him in a couple of days anyway so she leaves it and pulls up her emails to reply to the seemingly endless list of forms she has to fill out and send back to Dorian.

The apartment she’s living in for the next few months is modern and airy, with clean lines and bright decor. Aelin likes it, and while it’s not hers in the same way as her home back in Orynth, it’s far better than a hotel room that lower budget movies tend to shove actors in. Another reminder that this time is different, there’s a bigger budget than she’s used to, bigger names than she’s used to, and she can’t fuck this up. There’s more eyes on her now than ever before.

She sends Elide a picture of her new bedroom and her friend just replies with a bunch of exclamation marks and she forwards the picture across to Lysandra too. Aelin wanders through to the kitchen, wondering if anyone bothered to stock the kitchen, not that she can’t do groceries herself, it would just be nice. She’s delighted to find a fridge full of fresh produce and gets about making herself a dish of pasta and veggies.

She tucks herself in front of the big television, munching away as she watches some National Geographic documentary about whales and it helps to take her mind off the fact that this is her last night of peace for a while. She’s trying not to get too in her head about it, there’s a fine line between knowing it’s a big deal and freaking the fuck out about it, and she needs to stay on the right side of that line, needs to keep herself in check.

If she allows herself a moment to relax, a moment to sink into the situation and bask in the opportunity; she’s excited.

And depending on how well this movie does, she knows she may not have another night like this one. Somehow the thought doesn’t seem to scare her.

Lysandra calls her as she’s waiting for the car to arrive to take her to the studio, it's day one of their table read today and she’s tired. She spent all of last night tossing and turning, unable to shut her mind off and panicking over every single detail of how this day could go.

She’s lucky it’s only a table read, she’s not sure even a professional make-up artist would be able to cover the dark circles under her eyes.

“Hello, you.” Lysandra’s voice is cheery through the phone and Aelin smiles, she’s really missed Lysandra and hasn’t taken nearly enough time to seek her out during her recent whirlwind. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

They had texted since the news dropped, but with Lysandra shooting a campaign for a brand she can’t remember somewhere over in the Southern Continent they haven’t had time yet for a call.

“Thanks Lys,” she says as she gets into the back of the sleek black car that the studio has sent for her, tucking her small black backpack onto the seat next to her. It’s all she can use at this point, any other bag just makes her think of that night.

“How’s it going? Have you met everyone yet?”

Lysandra runs in these circles of A list celebrities and Aelin wouldn't be surprised if she already knew Fenrys. She met Lysandra when they were teens; years before her first show for Victoria’s Secret, years before she was walking for people like Gucci and Prada, and they stayed close when they were both living off cheap ramen and thin strands of hope. Aelin likes to tease her about hanging with a lowly C-lister like herself but Lysandra is always quick to quip that she’s maybe a G-lister at a push.

That could change.

“I haven’t met anyone so far, but I’m literally on my way to meet everyone now.”

“That’s exciting, you’ll have to let me know if Fenrys Moonbeam is really that good looking in person.”

“So you don’t already know him?” she asks, teasing. Maybe Lysandra doesn’t know quite everyone.

“Oh you know, apart from every week-end when we hook-up, we’re not really that good friends.”

Aelin laughs, mostly to herself, knowing that somewhere out there that probably is a story that’s cropped up in some cheap tabloid. She knows there’s probably some dating rumours about herself and Fenrys already even though she’s still yet to meet him. It’s just how it is, she knows this, has known this since she was old enough to read the stories about her parents’ messy divorce.

“What does Aedion have to say about that, hm?”

“Oh, he joins us obviously!” Lysandra’s laugh is bright and loud through the grainy speaker.

No-one is more desperate for Aedion to propose to Lysandra than Aelin, not even the magazines, desperate for a scoop of the golden couple, quarterback for the Rifthold Ravens and the world-famous supermodel.

“I think I’ve heard enough, thanks,” Aelin laughs as the car pulls through security checks at the studio. “Lys, I have to go, I’ve just got to the studio.”

“Okay, good luck! Promise you’ll call me later though and let me know how it goes.”

She needs to make sure she puts aside a minute to catch up properly with Lysandra, she’s been slacking recently and she knows her friend misses her. She misses Lysandra too, and Aedion. Maybe she’ll stay with them for a couple of days when she gets a break from filming, she can probably see them far more often now that she’s in Rifthold too.

“I promise,” she agrees. “Tell Aedion to make sure he spoils you from me.”

Lysandra snorts, “Oh he does, I’ll pass it along anyway though.”

“Means a lot. Love you, got to go.”

Lysandra’s returning love you is sincere, but she cuts off the phone as the car comes to a stop outside the plain brick building.

She readies herself in the back of the car, pulling down a deep breath to center herself, she can do this.

The girl leading her to the room doesn’t speak other than to tell Aelin to follow right this way, and she’s grateful, she’s not sure she could speak right now without vomiting all over the dated linoleum flooring.

She needs to get a grip, and fight the urge for a hit that strikes her when she’s nervous like this. It could make her fears disappear, at least for a moment before they all came crashing back down ten-times worse the minute the high faded. There is a reason she packed that shit in, and she knows her nerves will pass. It’s been a while since she’s done any of this, her last movie read was pre-Sam and no matter how hard she tries to push it down, there’s a lot of pressure on her for this to go well.

The girl pauses outside an unassuming white door and holds a hand out to gesture for Aelin to go in. She rolls her shoulders back, holding her head high before she steps into the room. If all else fails she’s still Evalin Ashryver’s daughter and to some people that is something to be proud of.

Fenrys Moonbeam is the first person to catch her eye when she steps into the room, and it seems he’s done some stalking too because he ends his conversation by the food table with some others she doesn’t recognise and bounds straight over to her with a grin.

“Aelin Ashryver,” he says, his voice deep and smooth like velvet. “I’ve heard of you. It’s a pleasure.”

“You have?” She’s both surprised and not at the same time as she holds a hand out for him to shake.

He bypasses the hand she holds out and tugs her into his chest, wrapping both arms around her and knocking her backpack off her shoulder.

“I have,” he says as he bends down to pick her bag back up. “Sorry about that.”

She shakes her head. She needs to stop acting like a bewildered school girl meeting the Queen, she needs to remember that she has second billing for this movie thanks to Dorian.

“Don’t worry about it.” Aelin finds a smile and plasters it on.

Someone calls for everyone to take their seats and she notices the name placards spaced out in front of each chair. She locates her own and it's surreal to see her name printed there, Aelin Ashryver, between Fenrys and another actress playing her sister called Manon Blackbeak. She’s even less known than Aelin, and she only feels slightly guilty for how much that relaxes her.

Aelin knows how this goes down, they sit opposite the production team, the director and all the executive producers and she realises that she’s opposite the sign that reads Rowan Whitethorn.

She slides into her seat, Fenrys and Manon chatting over her head as she does, and she spots a male slipping into the chair opposite her. He’s wearing a slim-fit forest green henley and dark jeans, his shoulders are just as broad as they were in his Instagram photo and here there’s no shadow across his handsome features.

She can’t deny that he’s attractive, she knew it the first time she saw him. Her stare locks onto the man from the hallway after her audition and he smirks at her as if they have a secret. And maybe they do, but now she’s realising that he’s her boss, and a little voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Elide is whispering to her that opportunities like this don’t come around everyday.

She owes it to Sam and she owes it to herself not to fuck this up, but the look that Rowan Whitethorn is sending her across the table makes her think she could risk it all.

It takes them three hours to run through it in full, and she’s happy to see she’s not the only one with a tear in her eye at the end. Rowan doesn’t cry, but he hasn’t looked at her since before they started and each time she read a line she avoided looking at him. She knows there were a couple of times where he nodded along with her expression of the lines. She’s ignoring it.

This is what she lives to do, they’re not even filming yet and she feels like she’s right where she needs to be. It’s cliche but she breathes easier when she acts, the air feels lighter when she takes on a new personality and feels all the things she’s told to feel.

It takes away the restlessness she feels when it’s all just down to her, being told how to feel is far easier.

Her therapist tells her she has both anxiety and PTSD, but she feels like giving it a name doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. She knows a diagnosis can be a relief for some, but to Aelin, what she feels is far too messy to be summed up in four letters. Her life has simply become the before, and the after, even though what each of those contains is a complete fucking shit show.

There are two Aelins; pre that night and post that night.

The Aelin from before that night doesn’t exist anywhere but in her own memory.

Once the run through is completed and basic notices are given by the producers, things like call sheet distributions and health and safety, the occupants of the room begin to mingle. She sees him make a beeline for her, and she swallows. She’s not ready for this.

“You look surprised to see me.” His voice is as hot as it was the last time she saw him, the slight rasp in his throat and his accent. Gods, the accent.

“You don’t look too surprised to see me.” She tilts her head at him because she feels way thrown off, like he has all the power here. Which he does. But like, she can play it cool. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? “Maybe had a little google search?”

He shakes his head at her, biting his lip kind of like he wants to laugh, and she bristles. She needs to level the playing field.

“Says you.” He’s definitely laughing now. “I saw you liked my photo last night.”

“What about it?” She shrugs, hoping her acting skills are up to it. He only tilts his head to the side as he takes her in.

“Do you think I didn’t know who you were in the corridor? I’m the director.” And fuck him for saying it like that, full of an easy confidence that in any other situation would have had heat pooling in the floor of her stomach. “Brullo discussed the casting with me.”

Right. Of course.

She’s not sure what to say next. Honestly? She kind of wants to flirt with him, but fuck.

Instead she hums a laugh, not really caring whether he thinks it’s sincere or not, and looks absentmindedly around the room instead of back up at him. He reaches a hand out to brush his fingers down her arm, looping them round the bones of her wrist and squeezing slightly like he did the last time before letting go. Her eyes snap back to his.

“Just between you and me?” he asks and the smile he wears is far too hot for her to deal with right now. “I think we made a good choice.”

“Thanks,” she says, but it’s a little too breathy. A little too dazed for having spent such a short amount of time in his presence. She’s aware that she needs to be careful, they are very much not alone in this room right now, and she doesn’t need to start any rumours that would destroy her chances of escaping this without a scandal.

She’s here to do a job, and she’s going to do it well. She doesn’t need any distractions.

He leaves her soon after that, and his parting remark of “have a good first day, Aelin” sticks with her, and she tries not to replay the way his voice had wrapped around her name.

Manon Blackbeak is watching them from across the room, and she arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow at Aelin. She ignores her; let her think what she wants, she’s surely professional enough not to gossip to any press, and stomps over to where Fenrys is chatting with one of the producers. It seems like a good enough place to start.

[lilacmeadows]

Made For You pt. 2

Omg you guys thank you so much for all the support! Part 1 was my first fic and you guys were so sweet. I had to get started on part 2 right away. If you want to be on my taglist, just let me know! This is just leading up to the next few chapters that’s just gonna be FILTHY. I needed a bit of backstory to be satisfied, but now that the boring part is out of the way, I’m gonna go research other names for genitals. Hope you enjoy! -Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1    Part 2     Part 3

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

WORD COUNT:  2.9k

“Make the Soldat happy. He is my mission.” 

When she was first taken, of course she was scared. She didn’t know why, where she was going, if she’d be rescued. It was a painful adjustment, and some days it was as if the tears would never stop. It’s not like she was worth anything to anyone who mattered, her family wasn’t rich. Just her mom and brother. They lived a happy and normal life. 

She’d guess it didn’t really matter. At the age of 10, y/n was old enough to understand basic concepts, carry a conversation with adults, and she had strict teachers in school, so she knew how to behave. 

What she didn’t know was how to be a wife. Or a ‘life-partner’. None of the Men would ever call her a future ‘wife’. She was training to be a mate. Someone the Soldat could own and connect with so he didn’t fly off the rails if things got out of control. If he got out of their control. Every morning, a watcher would wake her up at 8AM so she could stretch, eat, and meditate. By 10AM, her first trainer of the day would come in and teach her the schooling she was missing. Just basic math and reading, a little German, and a little Russian. Not enough for her to eavesdrop on their plans, but enough to understand her Soldat if he didn’t feel like speaking English. 

At 1PM, another trainer would come and bring her to the small kitchenette down the hall. They had no intention of domesticating the ‘couple’, but she was learning to be a woman- of course the Men would have her start in the kitchen. She would learn very simple meals that could feed a fully grown man, and usually had something light for lunch herself. The men brought her the other 2 meals a day. At 3PM she would have lessons on ‘Womanhood’. At least that’s what she called it. A trainer would come in and teach her a never-ending list of rules that she had to follow in order to be a ‘lady’. It reminded her of an old Barbie movie she would watch when she was little. There was a song called ‘To Be a Princess’, where a poor girl learned how to act proper. Once she started seeing herself as that princess, the days got a little easier. Some days, they would go over how to sit and lie down like a lady. Others, they would walk laps around the halls open to her, reviewing how to walk on the balls of her feet. She learned to talk in short sentences with excellent manners, and how to brush her hair, so she could look more presentable for her Soldat. 

Over the years of compliance, the trainers softened on her just as the watchers had. Of course, they were still horrible people, but they knew she was a kind girl at heart and wouldn’t cause trouble. Some days, she would be made to sit perfectly still with a stack of books on her head, while her trainer would tell her something silly happening outside the walls of the building that became her home. She learned little bits of information about their lives, music, art. But never anything political or having to do with who the Men even worked for. That was strictly forbidden. They would let her color in her free time. Sometimes a watcher would bring a book from his home for her to read, and when she was old enough, she was given a few colors of yarn and started knitting sweaters and scarves on plastic needles. She didn’t have a clock, but she would learn by the rotating shifts of her watchers what time of day it was.

There were children whose lives sucked more than hers. And for that, she was grateful.

When she got older (let’s say 18), the training started to change. She never knew what day it was, or even what year. She had stopped keeping track so long ago, but the changes were made gradually. She would be made to read books on intimacy, and then watch videos of men brutally ravishing ladies about her size. She had to learn what to do to please her Soldat, without being taught physically. This made her happy. The thought of any of the watchers or trainers doing that to her made her sick. And everyone thought it was in her best interest to be completely innocent to the touch of a man when she has her first encounter with the Soldat.

Which turned out exactly as planned. But on the day Steve and Sam plucked her out of her bedroom, she was not expecting the Soldat to be sitting right in front of her. In all his glory.

The quinjet was eerily silent for all of seven seconds before Clint had the audacity to continue the conversation he started.

“You make the soldier happy?” was the best the shocked man could come up with.

“I haven’t met him yet, but I’m ready. They made me ready for him.” y/n said with bright, hopeful eyes. Her words flowed so easily, they sounded rehearsed.

“Do we tell her?” Tony asked Steve, who was getting greener by the second. He couldn’t believe he just got his best friend back, not two weeks ago, and now he has to worry about a girl who’s obsessed with said best friend.

“I don’t think we really have a choice.” Steve replied, taking a deep breath. The whole quinjet looked like they were holding their breath. y/n still didn’t know the names of the three men on the opposite side of the quinjet. Two of them standing together, pausing their conversation, and the brooding man, who everyone keeps looking at.

“y/n, meet Bucky.” Steve said, pointing at the man across from her. But ‘Bucky’ went completely over her head- the name being unfamiliar to her.

“Hello, sir. Pleased to meet you.” She said, offering a genuine smile, but clearly not picking up what Steve was putting down. Clint chimed in again, wanting to be out of his confused misery.

“Wait a second. Y/n. You mean the soldier, as in the Winter Soldier?” Y/n immediately nodded at hearing that name. She knew her Soldat went by that name. “As in that guy right there?” 

Her eyes went wide at the realization. He was sitting right in front of her. Staring at her since the minute she stepped onto the plane. And he was gorgeous. Long hair, thick thighs, piercing blue eyes, and a jaw that could probably cut glass. But he looked upset. Pissed really, and that scared her. She had one job: Make the Soldat happy. And there she was, barely presentable. She hadn’t even addressed him properly, how she was taught. With all the eyes on her, she felt a blush rush through her whole body at the embarrassing thought. But she had to. He wouldn’t like her if she didn’t follow the rules she grew up with.

Y/n daintily stood up and walked until she was right in front of Bucky. He held her eye contact the entire way, still not having said one word during this whole exchange. She gently knelt down until she was on her knees in front of him. 

“I hope I can make you happy, my Soldat. I am a gift from the Men who take care of us, and I am entirely yours.” Bucky’s jaw twitched. He hadn’t said anything this whole time, but his mind was moving at lightning speed. He watched this gorgeous, barely dressed girl sit across from him, and was already in awe. But then that girl got on her knees and declared her loyalty to him? In front of everyone he knows? He couldn’t lie to himself, he’d never been more turned on. But everything about this was wrong. She was just a Stockholm Syndrome’d girl who wanted to follow orders. But her orders were to make him happy. He finally broke eye contact with her to see Tony’s shocked face looking over at Bruce and Thor, to make sure he’s not hallucinating this. 

“Y/n, you should stand up.” He said to her in a hushed tone. Probably harsher than he meant to. He could see her visibly take a breath at the sound of his voice, his eyes followed the gentle slope of her neck down to her breast. She dreamed for years about what his voice would sound like, and it just rolled over her. But she quickly obeyed and stood in front of his seat. He expected her to say something else, but she was silent then. Her previous outburst was one of the few exceptions to her ‘only talk when spoken to’ rule. “What do you want? Where is your family so we can take you home?” He asked her. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes. He didn’t want her was all she could assume. She was made for him, so why was he turning her away?

“I want to make you happy, sir. It’s all I want. Please let me be good for you. I promise, I’ll be so good for you.” Begging was familiar to her from her studies. She didn’t expect to be begging for her to be able to please him, but she would do whatever it took to get him to keep her.

“No. Y/n. This isn’t right. You were being kept there, whatever Hydra told you to do is over. You’re free now.” The tears flowed freely down her cheeks and it broke his heart. She tried to cover her face with her hands. He didn’t want to see her cry, nor did he want to turn her away, but he also couldn’t just let her be his sex slave. It wasn’t right. 

“Please don’t be sad. This is for the best-” He tried to reason with her, but when he took her hand off her face so she would look at him, the contact only made her sob harder. This was all she wanted. 

“Buck, I think we should just let her sit for a minute. Can you grab her some water? Tony and I will try to figure out where she was from.” Steve said to Bucky- trying to end this painful and awkward situation. Bucky stood and walked to another area of the quinjet. He was grateful to be able to use this time to think.

“Y/n, we’re gonna need your help to get you home okay. What’s your last name? How old are you?” 

“Y/L/N” And then she went quiet. It never occurred to her that she didn’t know how old she was. Of course, she remembered her birthday, but she couldn’t tell the weeks and months apart, so she hadn’t celebrated it since she turned 10 in 2006. “What year is it?”

“When did they take you?” Steve asked gently. Being a man from another time, he could remember well the day he woke up in 2011 when it was supposed to be 1944. He knew how jarring it was to discover all the time that’s been lost, and wanted to spare her that grief.

“2006. I was 10.” She looked at him, and she could tell it’s not just 2008 by the look on his face. She knew her body went through changes over her time with the Men, but between the ‘dietary supplements’ they gave her, and the fact that she wasn’t looking in a mirror- much less shopping for clothes- she didn’t realize she had fully completed puberty. 

“Y/n, it’s 2016. You’re 20 now.” And that made the tears come harder. But she wasn’t so upset about the 10 years of her life. She was mad at 20 years of her life wasted. Since Bucky didn’t want her, all of the training was for nothing. She knew living for him made her the definition of a broken person- she wasn’t dumb. The idea of her Soldat was what grounded her all that time. When she was lonely, she’d think about the man the Men always tell her about. They told her how he was their ‘greatest asset’. And she often fantasized about if he would fall in love with her. So by the time she met him, she had already been in love with him for much longer than she’d care to admit- which makes the heartbreak of rejection hurt that much more.

Unfortunately for Bucky, his heart was heavy too. He tucked away into the tiny bed area on the jet after quickly handing Steve the water to give to y/n. It was too much. Being in that room with her, she looked at him like he hung the moon. But he most certainly had not. He was a murderer. Tony’s father was a scientist during the war, and Bucky knew him pretty well through Steve. And he killed him. He had scattered memories of hurting dozens of people, so why would she be so willing to be with someone like him?

Part of him wanted it. After almost a century of not owning anything and not having a choice, he was given the opportunity to have something that belonged only to him. A gift from the men who take care of us. If it wasn’t cruel, he would have laughed in her face. Maybe she was taken care of, but he most certainly wasn’t. She was brought in young enough to still be under the impression that Hydra wasn’t evil, just strict. He imagined for a minute how things could have turned out for the two of them if he hadn’t gotten free. If Hydra really was planning on giving him a gift. He didn’t like the last gift they gave him in the shape of an arm, but y/n was perfect. She was the perfect size for him- although his broad frame could dwarf most women. And her smile pulled at his heart.

He wanted to kiss her the minute he saw her. He knew he wanted to make her his.

And that was bad.

He rubbed his hand over his face and decided to rejoin the group in the middle of their conversation. Thor and Bruce decided to stop being passive members of the conversation and introduced themselves. Y/n was very confused at Thor’s proclamation as ‘God of Thunder’, but with all that was happening, she didn’t feel it was her place to question it.

“- a good thing we have spare rooms at the compound. You can stay as long as you like.” Tony finished speaking to y/n just as Bucky was walking into the room. “We’re gonna have a new house guest MC.” He waggled his eyebrows at the man who caught the back half of that conversation.

Bucky’s jaw dropped. This would only make the situation much harder than it needed to be. He looked to Steve for an explanation. The blond stood up and made his way over to Bucky.

“Look, Hydra scrubbed her records off of every database and-” He took a deep sigh, “Her family is dead, Buck. They probably killed them after they took her.” 

Then it was Bucky’s turn to sigh. He knew the right thing to do was to help her, but he also knew how much he wanted to feel her soft skin in his hands. And that made her dangerous to be around. 

What nobody knew was why Hydra took the 10 year old from Georgia. In 2006, the Winter Soldier was sent on a mission to kill a scientist that lived there. Of course the poor guy didn’t have a chance when the Soldier was sitting in his house, waiting for him when he got home, but what the Soldier wasn’t expecting was a little girl to be coming inside with him. The scientist looked sleazy and didn’t have any children, so who knows what would have happened to her if the Soldier didn’t get there in time. She screamed and cried. The comm in his ear commanded him to kill the girl for being a witness. But the part of the Soldier that was still Bucky wanted her to be safe. He shushed the little girl and asked her for her address. When she recited it to him, he rubbed her head and told her she was a good girl, before he dug his metal fingers into the child’s pressure points and she fell limp into his arms. y/n woke up in her bed, crying at the bad dream she must have had- her mother not even home yet. That was the first act of defiance Hydra ever experienced from the Winter Soldier. First sign of humanity and compassion. They knew if the mind control was getting weaker, he would be harder to control next time they unfroze him, but his protective nature of the girl would make her an asset to them.

Her capture was arranged before his heart was fully frozen in the chamber. Neither Bucky nor y/n remembered this- Bucky only remembering parts of his time under their control, and y/n never thinking about that bad dream again, but the connection was still there as strong as it was that day 10 years ago.

Part 3

[wikiangela-fanfics]

Fictober22 - 6. Adaptable, I like that.

Fandom: marvel

Ship: Bucky Barnes & Jessica Jones (as friends), Sam x Bucky (mentioned)

Words: 652

Ao3 here

Note: This is just a silly little idea that came to me after staring at that prompt for an hour 😂 (I've been thinking about my defenders fics a lot lately lol) I still stand by the fact that Bucky and Jessica would've been besties if they met lol and I'd love to see their dynamic, it just seems so interesting hah

It's a continuation to my previous defenders fics (Ao3 here) but can be standalone too i guess

***

Bucky couldn’t say that he knew Jessica very well. They met a few months ago, and since then they’d hung out a couple of times, mostly just drinking in silence in a bar. It was perfect and he might actually call her his best friend, if it wasn’t for Sam, obviously. Though his relationship with Sam was much more than friends. After all, they’d been dating for close to a year now.

When he met Jessica, he approached her to kind of recruit her to their new team, just in case of another threat (she declined for now). He also made it clear that she could contact him or Sam whenever she needed help. She never did. But Bucky did occasionally help out anyway, or tried to, whenever he was at her place or just hanging out with her while she was following people. It could be fun sometimes.

Right now, he was at her apartment again, just sitting quietly and reading, while she worked. They never had to talk to pleasantly spend their time together, and that’s why they both liked it so much. Having the company of a person who fully understood you and what you went through, it was nice sometimes. Now, Sam understood, too, but at the moment he was busy being Cap. Otherwise, he’d be there with them. Plus, Bucky loved him more than anything, but he could be chatty.

He was taken out of his book, when Jessica sighed, mumbled “shit,” and picked up her phone. She dialed a number, called whoever she was calling, and Bucky heard her voice in a way he never had before. He didn’t even register the words, because, shit, her voice was all high and sweet and bubbly. Bucky was watching her with wide eyes. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised, she was a very good PI, she must’ve been able to do those kinds of things. Still, it was just so different from her usual persona, it caught him off guard.

When she finished her phone call, she looked at him and smirked.

“What?”

“Nothing.” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Adaptable, I like that.” he winked. 

“Don’t flirt with me, your boyfriend will be jealous.” was Jessica’s dry response, as she went back to her computer. There was a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Who’s gonna tell him?” he joked. They both knew he was just teasing. She leveled him with a look.

“You do know that I catch cheaters for a living, right?”

“Like I’d ever do that to the love of my life.” Bucky rolled his eyes, not able to hide a fond smile at just the thought of Sam.

“Ugh, even when he’s not here, you’re still sickeningly adorable.” she wrinkled her nose. Bucky laughed. “Why are you even here?”

“I was bored home alone.” he said with a shrug. “And you always wanna hang out with me.” he grinned.

“Do I?” she raised her eyebrow. “What is it about me that makes people want to be around? I don’t get it, I do so much to have the opposite effect.” she shook her head.

“It works for me.” Bucky grinned, then quickly got up and walked up to her to peek at her laptop. “What are you working on? Can I help?”

“No.” Jess muttered, but then proceeded to fill him in on the case she was working on anyway. 

Bucky generally liked to be either alone or with Sam. But spending time with Jessica became one of his favorite pastimes, too. He really enjoyed her dry and sarcastic humor, and they always had fun conversations. Above all, they went through similar things, and even if they nearly never talked about them, it was nice to know that there was someone that understood him. Besides, he just liked having her as a friend, and he didn’t really have a lot of those.

[yourlmanburg]

and i'll be here, my love // c!dream x gn!reader

word count: 1,781

summary: you finally cave in to your emotions and visit your boyfriend in prison

request?: thank you anon!! i really enjoyed this one :D

this fic takes place after dream kills/revives tommy but before quackity's visit!! also i proofread like half of it pls forgive any mistakes

---

You thought you were ready, you thought you could handle seeing him again. You really did.

Turns out you were very, very wrong.

When you turned up to Sam's place in tears, begging to be allowed to see your partner in the prison that he was in charge of, he was shocked to say the least - but even so he found himself without a reason to deny your desperate request. And so today was the day; you were going to see Dream for the first time in two months.

A lot had happened since the last time you saw him. You'd always worked alongside Dream and everybody knew that, yet he was the one who faced the severe consequences. You didn't care about the fact that he killed Tommy. In fact, you were happy about it! He deserved it. Annoying little bastard. But there was something that just didn't feel right about the thought of visiting him and it stopped you for this long, but you refused to let the thoughts get in the way any longer.

You made your way through the Nether Portal on Sam's command, shaking like a delicate autumn leaf on a windy day. You gave the creeper hybrid a forced smile as you approached him, your heart racing faster than ever and your palms clammy.

“Hi.” you greeted, and Sam smiled back sympathetically.

“Hello,” he replied, his voice plain. This is what must be known as his Warden State. “I just have a few questions to ask before we get started, is that okay?” you simply nodded in response, expecting the worst as per usual. “Alright, when was the last time you visited the prison?”

“This is my first time.”

“Where is your place of residence located?”

“I don’t, uh, I don’t really live anywhere.” you admitted with a pink tint to your face, you’d been so caught up in what was going on that you just didn’t think to build yourself a house. It’s not like you needed one, anyways.

“Mhm, okay. Do you believe the prisoner is deserving of being locked up?” well shit. How the fuck were you mean to answer this? Of course Dream didn’t deserve this! You weren’t stupid; you’d noticed how tense Sam had been around you, especially after you completely revealed yourself to be not only on Dream’s side, but his significant other, too.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” you lied. “Despite the feelings I hold towards him, the things he did are truly unforgivable and that’s why I’m here today; I need to talk things through with him.” probably the best to add that in for good measure. Sam nodded and you could see his shoulders sink a little, great - you were beginning to get on his good side, you hoped at least.

Look, it’s not like you were oblivious to the fact that you were a bad guy. If anything, you loved it, and you loved Dream! You two were a pair, and there was nothing that could come between you, not even what he did… you struggled to admit to yourself that what he did was going a little bit too far. But this must be part of some greater plan that you didn’t know of yet, it must be! Surely he wouldn’t do these things for nothing?

“And what are all your prior relations with the prisoner?”

“A friend then a lover. Perhaps an enemy - we’ll see how this goes.”

“Right. Are you willing to submit to any and all physical exams?” you nodded your head once again, aching to be in the arms of your lover once more. Even if it meant living a lie, telling everyone you’d moved on and you never wanted to speak to him again, you’d do it. For him. “Do you acknowledge that you may not bring anything into the prison with you?” “I do.”

“And do you recognise that I, Awesamdude, am the ultimate authority on the grounds and what I say goes?”

“I do.”

“Okay,” he said, dragging out the “o” as he finished scribbling down your answers in his book. He then placed another book on the lectern in front of you, asking you to read through the waiver out loud and then to sign it, which you did. Once the waiver was signed and you were ready to go, Sam instructed you to place all of your belongings in the locker to your left and you complied, trying to be as fast as possible so you could see Dream a little bit sooner.

You were then faced with many aforementioned physical examinations to make sure you were not a threat to the safety of anyone (which you weren’t) and it was finally, finally time to lower the bubbling lava surrounding the main holding cell. The cell that he was in.

You couldn’t lie, you were absolutely shitting yourself. It had been two months since you and Dream had last seen each other, and as far as you were aware he didn’t know you were visiting today. What if he was mad at you for leaving it this long? What if he’d fallen out of love with you? What if-

“Make sure you move with the bridge, okay?” your spiralling panic was thankfully interrupted by Sam and you looked up from the spot on the floor which you zoned out on, to see an awfully familiar green hoodie paired with ripped blue jeans, to see him.

And funnily enough, the segment of the stone floor you were standing on began to move. You wobbled a bit at first which panicked Sam a little, he couldn’t stand being responsible for a second death, but you regained your balance and felt the nerves rise up as you neared the cell. He was there. He was waiting.

You stepped off the platform once it reached the obsidian, waiting for the barrier to be lowered.

“Y/n?” was all he said, his eyes filling up with tears as the lava was lowered once more.

“Dream!” you exclaimed in glee, hopping over the barrier to be engulfed in his warm hug. You could feel his bones through the ripped green hoodie he was wearing and his mask was in anything but a good state, his dirty blond hair had grown out a lot and the bags beneath his eyes were more prominent than ever. You decided not to mention any of the alarming things you noticed though, taking note of the very little space and furniture he’d been living with. To think this is what he’d been dealing with while you had no idea… you felt terrible. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been okay, I’ve been okay. Decided to do a little experiment on Tommy, did you hear about it?” he asked excitedly, a genuine grin painted across his face.

“Have I? It’s been the talk of the town! Everyone fucking hates you for that, you know.” “Everyone?” “Almost everyone. The Eggpire celebrated the news and Puffy was livid about it, and acting as if I cared was more exhausting than it sounds. You did a good deed honey, you really did.” you said with an honest smile, properly looking Dream in the eyes for the first time in a long time.

His green irises stood out as always, piercing through your own e/c eyes. There was a hint of desperation in them, it was as if they were screaming at you to let him out of this absolute hellhole of a place. You couldn’t blame him, really - what did he have? A cauldron of water, a chest and a lectern with an empty book placed on it. Your heart ached for the man who stood before you, you wanted nothing more than to get him out of this horrid place.

“Great!” he said with enthusiasm in his voice - but something was off, it was more than obvious.

“Dream, love,” your eyes softened as you spoke, taking his hand in your own and gently rubbing your thumb along his knuckles. You adjusted his mask so you could see his face properly with your other hand before tracing it across a fresh scar that reached right from his eyebrow to his chin, but that was a topic for another conversation. “Tell me the truth now, how are you holding up in here?” the smile he held faltered as he looked towards the floor, the grip you had on his hand tightening ever so slightly.

“It’s not too bad, I guess. Just tiring, y’know? All I have to eat is raw potatoes and that’s the only reason Sam ever comes to visit me. I used to have a clock, too, multiple actually, I’d always throw them in the lava so he’d come and give me a new one and he’d be forced to visit me, but I’m not allowed another one now. Tommy’s come to see me a few times, but you already know that, and Sapnap’s been and he said he’d kill me and Bad’s also been and he was the only person who’s been nice to me, besides you of course, and Sam hates me and everything’s just been a mess and-”

“Shhh,” you ever so gently placed a tender finger over his lips, stopping him from spiralling. “Breathe with me, okay? You’re panicking again.” you took Dream through a few deep breaths in and out, in and out. He began to calm down and after pulling his mask over his face to hide his tears, he pulled you into the tightest hug yet. You felt him shaking beneath your touch, and you felt absolutely terrible for him.

“Say, how about I come and visit you every day? I can whip up some lame excuse so Sam doesn’t suspect anything. I’ll come here and I’ll talk to you, I’ll keep you company and we can talk through things, because I think we can agree there’s a lot we need to go through in regards to recent events. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I’m so glad I get to see you again my darling.” he cupped your cheek in his hand and you placed your own palm above his hand, clasping it and placing a soft kiss on his lips beneath his broken, white mask.

“I love you, Dream, never forget that.”

You hugged one last time before calling for Sam, assuring him that you’d be back tomorrow. And you were, and again the next day, and the day after that, and so on and so forth. The love you had for Dream was endless and you were forever grateful that he trusted you enough to see him like that.

[ghstandpucks]

Nothin’ Like You ~ Cale Makar

In honor of reaching over 200 followers, here is a song fic based on Dan and Shay’s Nothin’ Like You. I have a few requests in my inbox that I will be working on. If you have any, feel free to send them in using this prompt! Thank you for 200!!!

Master List

I remember when I first met you Sipping coffee in a corner booth You were twirling your hair And I just had to stare For a minute or two

Cale was with Tyson and J.T. after practice one Wednesday afternoon. The three of them decided to stop and get some coffee as it was a cold winter day outside. They were waiting in line talking about something E.J. had said earlier that day when Cale’s eyes landed on you in the back corner by a window. You had a cup of coffee and were staring at your laptop, completely oblivious to the world around you. He couldn’t help but stare as you wound and un-wound a strand of hair around your finger, every so often stopping to type something. Tyson kept talking as J.T. realized their defenseman was completely distracted by something. Following his line of sight, he chuckled. “See something you like? Or someone?” he chirped his teammate. Cale started to turn red as he looked away from you.

“I thought maybe I knew her,” he muttered. Tyson had stopped his monologue and was paying attention also now. He looked over as you had your head buried in a book, slowly typing something out.

“How did she carry all those books?” he asked with a slight laugh. Cale had noticed the numerous books you had scattered around the table. Didn’t people just do their research online now? “You like studious girls Makar?” Tyson elbowed him.

I was laughing at your stack of books Then you shot me that smile Hey beautiful girl, in your own little world Let me in it

“Man shut up,” Cale said turning on his friend. Unknowingly to them though, you had actually heard all the commotion. It was why you enjoyed doing your research in coffee shops; the garbled noises made it easier for you to concentrate. This doesn’t mean that you had heard what they said exactly, but who could really miss three hockey players walking into a small coffee shop in the middle of the week.

You looked up right as Cale was glancing back over at you. As you locked eyes, you sent him a shy smile and looked back down, trying to focus on your work again. Of course you knew who they were, all of Denver practically did. You were just an overstressed grad student with too many deadlines coming up though; he was probably just looking around the place.

The three of them ordered their coffees, and Cale noticed that you had looked sadly at your cup after taking a sip. He walked up to the counter and got the attention of the barista. “What did that girl in the corner order?” he asked, and was told it was a caramel latte. “I’ll take one of those too,” Cale said, paying for a second coffee. J.T. gave Tyson a look before he could say anything as they watched Cale walk over to you with two coffee cups.

You got all of my attention And you ain't even trying Yeah, you're my kind of different And I never seen nothin'

Nothin' like you

“Um hi. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought you could use this,” Cale said, announcing his presence at your table. You looked up, slightly startled as you had been engrossed in a thought you had while typing out your research. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckled nervously.

“No, you’re fine! Sorry, I had a train of thought going,” you sputtered out just as nervous as him. “Thank you, that’s very kind. What do I owe you?” you asked, instinctively reaching for your wallet. Cale shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said, trying to think of what the guys on the team might say in this situation. “Your number maybe?” he made a face like he couldn’t believe he just said that, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Um, sure, yeah,” you squeaked out, writing your number on a piece of notebook paper and ripping it out to give to him. “I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself.

“Cale,” he said, taking the paper from you. He was about to ask what you were doing when Tyson called out to him.

“Makar, are you coming?” Cale turned toward his friends who had big, goofy grins on their faces watching the interaction. You blushed slightly at the thought of others watching you.

“I’m sorry. I’ll text you,” he stuttered out, putting your number into his pocket. You smiled softly at him and nodded.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you said and he smiled at you.

“My pleasure.”  

Shades on spinning in a summer rain Dancing when there ain’t no music Just the right kind of crazy, baby

           Cale had texted you like he said he would that same evening. You honestly weren’t expecting it, but felt completely giddy when you saw the unknown number and read his message. He explained that he would be gone on a road trip with the Avs for the next week, but would like to take you to dinner when he got back. You accepted and plans were made; the two of you talking regularly throughout the week getting to know each other better.

           The Avs returned home on Thursday, and a few hours later Cale was at your apartment knocking on your door. He had brought you flowers and you couldn’t help but smile at the kind gesture. The two of you made your way to dinner, talking the whole time. He had just finished telling you a funny story from the trip, beaming at the giggle he had enticed from you when your food arrived. As you looked down at your plate, you started moving your head and shoulders in an excited fashion. “Are you dancing?” Cale questioned you with a chuckle. You stopped immediately.

           “Oh my gosh, sorry. I tend to have a happy dance with food. It’s a weird family thing. I don’t even realize I do it until it’s pointed out to me,” you rambled on, face turning red. Cale shook his head.

           “Don’t be sorry. I though it was cute,” he said in a low tone. You smiled and giggled nervously; Cale deciding then and there that he wanted to continue seeing that smile for as long as you would let him.  

Something about you Rocking that rock 'n roll t-shirt Whole party dressed up But you just doin’ your thing Ain't nobody ever seen nothin' like you

           You were working on your research the following Friday night, having the game on in the background. Cale had taken you out to dinner once more since your first date, and the two of you had been nonstop texting. The Avs had won, Cale scoring that night. After the game you were about to text him a ‘congratulations’ when your phone started to ring, the caller ID showing it was him. “Congratulations!” you said as you answered and heard him chuckle on the other end of the line.

           “Thanks Y/N. Hey, what are you doing tonight?” he asked, and you heard a few wolf whistles behind him with muttered ‘shut ups’ coming from the defenseman.

           “I’ve just been working on my research since I got out of class earlier. Why?” you asked, trying not to laugh.

           “Come out with us. We’re all going out to celebrate,” he said in a more hushed tone, and you could imagine him trying to avoid the whole locker room from hearing.

           “Cale, I would love to but I’m not dressed to go out,” you said.

           “Who cares. Please? I would like you to come,” he pleaded with you ever so slightly. You looked down at your outfit, deciding it wouldn’t take much to put on some jeans quickly. Your Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt didn’t look terrible at least.

           “Text me the address,” you said into the phone, and you could hear the excitement in Cale’s voice as he said he would.

When you're wearing them worn out jeans Purple untied shoestrings You're a light in the dark And you're stealing my heart like a gypsy

           Showing up to the bar, you became a little self-conscious. Maybe you should have changed? The second Cale spotted you though, he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the room. The front of your band tee was tucked into your ripped black jeans, your white converse showing years of wear as they were no longer exactly white and the shoelaces were frayed at the ends. Cale knew you were probably stressed with your research, and yet you still had the softest smile and a sparkle in your eyes when you found him in the crowd. “You made it,” he whispered into your hair as he hugged you close. He felt you giggle into his chest.

           “Couldn’t let you down,” you answered simply. Cale smiled at you and took your hand, leading you over to a table where some of the team was sitting.

           “Coffee shop girl!” A slightly tipsy Tyson shouted.

           “Oh my God,” Cale muttered as you giggled. You were introduced to everyone as you took a seat between Cale and someone he called Gravy.

           “So what is your research on?” Gabriel Landeskog asked when you said you were a grad student at the University of Denver.

           “The archaeology of Zoroastrianism,” you said, and caught many blank stares.

           “Zoro what?” Andre asked.

           “It’s an ancient Persian religion. Today’s modern practices of Christianity, Islam, and Judaism all have common ties to it,” you briefly explained.

           “Wait, that was the religion Freddie Mercury practiced,” Sam Girard commented, looking interested. You nodded.

           “That’s how most people have heard of it now,” you responded.

           “What is your research trying to say about it?” he asked.

           “So I’m basically writing a big literature review to make sure it is preserved in the archaeological record. It was the first dualistic religion in a time where civilizations had their pantheons to believe in. It spread with the Persian conquest, but no one they conquered was ever forced to convert to it. Now it’s a rare religion to come across, and their numbers keep getting smaller. With it being one of the oldest organized religions, it needs to be preserved and the traditions documented before we lose it all through modernization attempts.” To you, your explanation was simple and one that you had said many times whenever asked what you were studying. It seemed you had impressed the table though, and you slightly blushed as a few questions started flying your way. You didn’t notice Cale softly smiling at you while you talked about a topic that you loved so much; he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. His teammates noticed though, and boy were they going to give it to him at practice.    

I love the way that you kiss me In front of everybody So baby come and kiss me They ain't ever seen nothin'

Nothin' like you

           The following day at practice, the guys were giving Cale crap for how head over heels he seemed for you. The fact he hadn’t kissed you yet was another source of ridicule. Everyone who had met you ended up adoring you within the time span that you spent with them at the bar; and they could easily see that their defenseman was taken by you as his cheeks would turn red at the mention of your name. They were all happy for him, but that didn’t mean the chirping would stop.

           They had another home game to play the following day, and Gabe convinced Cale to invite you and have you sit with Mel and Linnea. Later that day Cale went to your apartment and handed you his jersey, asking you to be there for the game. You couldn’t say no to him, not that you wanted to anyways. That Sunday you put on the jersey and headed to the stadium. Meeting Mel at the front, you quickly got along and enjoyed the game. The Avs came out victorious again, and you followed the captain’s wife to the locker rooms. You stepped aside as Gabe made his way over to his wife, feeling a little out of place. Luckily for you, Cale wasn’t far behind.

           He didn’t know if it was from the guys comments or seeing you in his jersey, but one second he was smiling widely at you, then the next his lips were on yours and his hands on your waist. Without a second thought, you kissed him back, your hands holding his face to yours. You were both grinning ear to ear as you separated, chirps flying all around but all in good nature. Giggling, you hid your face in Cale’s chest as his face turned bright red.

Shades on spinning in a summer rain Dancing when there ain’t no music Just the right kind of crazy, baby Something about you Rocking that rock 'n roll t-shirt Whole party dressed up But you just doing your thing Ain't nobody ever seen nothin' like you, yeah

           A year had passed and you were at the end of your grad program. You were set to present your research at the graduate fair, having been selected to present your research on behalf of your department. The Avs were scheduled to be flying back home that day, but Cale wasn’t sure if he would be there in time to see you present. You told him that it was fine, that you understood; and you really did. He was hell bent on making it though. You weren’t that surprised when you saw Cale sneaking into the back of the auditorium. What did surprise you was that half the team had followed him in. Having become good friends with them, they wanted to be there to support you too. As your name was announced, you swear you had the loudest applause.

           You calmly presented your research, smiling at Cale when you finished and a few questions were thrown your way. Having worked so hard, the questions were simple to answer. Finding Cale afterward, he took your poster from you and the two of you made your way to his apartment so he could unpack from the trip. Changing into some leggings and one of his shirts, you showed him the bound copy of your 105 page thesis. He was so proud of you and couldn’t help but share the cover on his Insta story. The two of you cuddle and slept better that night then you had in a while. For him it was being back home with you, and you finally had the stress of your research gone since the first time you met him.  

Nothin' like you Shades on spinning in a summer rain Dancing in the rain no music Nothin' like you Rocking that rock 'n roll t-shirt Whole party dressed up But you just doing your thing Ain't nobody ever seen nothin' like you, yeah

           Once you graduated, Cale asked you to move in with him. You had secured a job at a museum as a curator in their Antient History section. Setting up an exhibit all morning, you met up with Cale at the same coffee shop you had met at two years prior later that day. “Sorry I’m late” you muttered to Cale as you found him. He smiled and gave you a quick kiss.

           “You have nothing to be sorry about. I already put your order in,” he said as you sat across from him, taking a sip of the coffee he got you.

           “You know me so well,” you hummed with a giggle, the caramel latte tasting sweet. Cale grinned at you.

           “Technically, your coffee order was the first thing I learned about you, so I better get that right,” he chuckled. “That and you seemed like a huge nerd.” You faked offense, but laughed anyway.

           “It was all those books that got you. I knew my tactic of sitting in a coffee shop would work for me one day,” you winked at him.

           “It did. I’d never seen nothing like you,” he grinned, reaching into his pocket to take out a small velvet jewelry box.

Never seen, never seen nothin' like you Ain't never seen anything like you Mmm Never seen nothin' like you

Tagging: @yeahcalesy @avsfans95  @tysojost​ 

[dothwrites]

Cas using Enochian pick-up lines on oblivious Dean. Dean doesn't get them, Cas feels rejected each time, and Sammy is done with it all! Can I have that fic, pretty please?

ah, this has been sitting here for a WHILE, so i’m sorry that i’m trash 

lost in translation

---

It begins when Dean is pathetically trying to impress his crush. 

Or at least that would be Sam’s take, if Dean cared enough to ask him. 

Dean would rather say that it began with a simple misunderstanding, one which could happen to anyone. 

He doesn’t ask Cas’ opinion of the situation (and Cas would say that’s the whole crux of the problem). 

Whoever has the correct perspective, no one would argue about the beginning of the affair. It starts one afternoon when Dean is contemplating switching Sam’s creamer with buttermilk, just for a break in the monotony. Cas is with him in the library, his customary suit and coat exchanged for a hoodie and a comfortable looking pair of jeans which Dean suspects used to belong to him (there’s something vaguely familiar about that hole in the knee, and it wouldn’t be the first time Cas has pilfered his room for clothing; several of Dean’s shirts have ended up upon the angel’s body. Cas always seems perplexed when Dean calls him on his thievery, plucking at the shirt with faint confusion--Oh this? I found this down in the laundry room a few days ago and thought it looked familiar, do you want it back? And the question is phrased so forlornly that Dean can’t help but allow Cas to steal another article of clothing out from under his very nose.). Cas dresses down these days. And slouches. Right now, his chin is in danger of disappearing into his chest. The sight delights Dean. There for a while, he hadn’t been sure Cas was capable of relaxing.

It’s an overwhelmingly quiet afternoon. It’s nice, because Dean loves to spend time with Cas when there’s no imminent blood or monsters on their horizons, but it’s also boring. Dean sneaks a glance at Cas over the top of his book. Cas seems perfectly content to sit all day reading some godawful thick, leather bound tome. Dean finds himself less than content, but he doesn’t want to leave Cas. He sighs, shifting in his seat as he pretends to read. After a few more minutes, he sighs again, this time with a little more spite in the sound.

(Dean’s about three seconds away from kicking his feet and whining I’m bored, but Cas doesn’t need to know that.) 

Cas mutters under his breath. Dean recognizes the guttural syllables of Enochian, which is Cas’ go-to language for when he’s saying something hateful and he doesn’t want to get called out on it. Tough luck for him, though, because Dean’s heard one of those words enough to parse its meaning. 

“Did you just call me stupid?” he demands, slapping his book down on the arm of the chair. 

Castiel looks at him, his eyes wide with surprise. “You...understood that?” he asks. “You understand Enochian?”

Not in the slightest, is what Dean should say. He understands one word, and that’s only because Cas uses it enough as an insult that it managed to stick in his mind. But something that looks like fondness, and admiration, and other nice adjectives which Dean would like Cas to apply to him, shines at the edges of Cas’ eyes. So he rolls his eyes a little bit (the audacity of Cas! Asking him if he bothered to study something which was not strictly required!) and scoffs, “Uh, kind of hard not to at this point, you know, what with...” He waves his hand at Cas, hoping that the vagueness of the gesture will cover a multitude of sins. 

And really, he should come clean. If the past fifteen years have taught him anything, it’s that nothing good comes from lying to your nearest and dearest. But this is just a little white lie. Like when he was sixteen and he told Brandy Fletcher he could play a rocking drum solo, because he wanted to impress her and there was no way he would ever be called upon to perform such a task. This is just a little fib, made so that Cas doesn’t think he’s a fucking idiot. 

Plus, there’s something which looks horribly similar to gratitude shining in Cas’ eyes. The emotion brims over until those baby blues can hardly contain it, and Cas looks so goddamned happy. Dean’s not a monster. He’s not going to take that away from Cas just so he can come clean with a Gotcha! moment. 

Cas bites at his lower lip, looking uncommonly shy. Worry starts to stir in Dean’s gut, which is only compounded when Cas says something else in soft yet clear Enochian. As the new phrase doesn’t have the word stupid anywhere in it, Dean doesn’t have the slightest idea of what Cas is saying. The guilt squirming in his stomach gets worse when Cas looks at him, with gentle anticipation, as though he’s expecting a reply. Dean does what humans have been doing since the beginning of time when confronted with a language they don’t understand and smiles, wide and sunny, at Cas. Cas’ forehead creases but he returns the gesture. His eyes are still brimming over with emotion and the sight does something to Dean. 

Dean begins to suspect that he may have started something which he is not equipped to finish. 

---

After that, things get a little weird. Considering Dean’s general life, that’s saying something. 

Dean catches Cas looking at him more, like Cas is having a one-man staring contest with the side of his face. Cas staring at him is nothing to write home about, but his looks have gained new intensity. It makes Dean’s innards squirm with worry as well as something deeper. He’s not willing to examine that feeling any closer, though it is pleasant. 

As if the soulful looks weren’t bad enough, there’s also the thoughtful slant of Cas’ eyes to worry about. Every time he looks at Dean, he looks like he’s working himself up to something momentous. Since momentous decrees from Cas usually come hand in hand with world-ending events and revelations, Dean thinks he can forgiven for dodging Cas’ presence. 

It does him no good: the bunker, for all its space, is only so large in the end, and Cas was once a heavenly messenger who has the patience of millennia. Add that to the fact that Dean needs to eat at least twice a day, and the game of Cornering Dean becomes a game of cards, in which the deck is stacked firmly in Cas’ favor. 

Dean sneaks into the kitchen sometime between midnight and two am. If Sam caught him, then he would get a talking-to about the most appropriate times to eat, better digestive function, and the ravages of heartburn in a man his age, but it’s not his brother sitting at the table when Dean flicks on the light. 

It’s Cas, who blinks owlishly at him, before his face splits into his brightest smile. 

(Cas’ brightest smile is an awkward, crooked little thing. On a regular human being it would be considered unbecoming. On Cas, it’s a thing of glory.)

“Dean,” Cas greets him. Hearing his voice in that low, rough voice never fails to send a little shiver down his spine, and today is no different. “This is an odd time for a snack.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, a little lamely. The shock of finding Cas in the kitchen has kind of killed his appetite, but it’s not like he can turn around and leave. “Just, you know, had a craving. Why were you here?” 

Cas looks around the kitchen, his mouth pursed. “I like it here. It’s peaceful.��� 

Dean looks at him, waiting for the punchline. “You were sitting in the dark, dude.” 

“Oh. Well, I don’t need lights to see in the dark,” Cas says, as though the knowledge that his best friend has some freaky see in the dark cat eye nonsense going on with him isn’t the weirdest thing Dean’s heard all day. 

“Great.” Dean opens the fridge and pulls out a container at random. He spares one second to hope that Sam got rid of all the moldy food before he samples the contents. “Well, I think I’m going back to my room now.” 

He wants to get out of here, not so much because he doesn’t want to talk to Cas (he has no problem with late-night chats with Cas, it’s just that he would prefer such chats take place in his room, preferably in his bed, preferably while both participants were significantly less dressed), but because Cas is starting to get that look again, like he’s getting ready to drop an atomic bomb’s worth of shit on Dean in the middle of the kitchen. 

“Dean.” Cas stands up. He twists his fingers together before he realizes what he’s doing, and then places them flat against his thighs. He takes a deep breath. Before Dean can stop him, Cas opens his mouth. 

Low, rolling syllables flow through the kitchen, the harsh notations of Enochian softened by Cas’ voice. There’s a question in Cas’ eyes, and Dean would answer it, if he only knew what Cas was asking. 

The kitchen falls into silence. Dean gets the distinct impression that walking away is not the appropriate reaction. If only he knew what the appropriate reaction was. 

He settles for plastering a fake ass smile on his face and loosing a brittle laugh which threatens to shatter the lighting fixtures. The corners of his mouth hurt from the wideness of his smile, but not even the small twinge of pain can take away from the brief flash of hurt in Cas’ eyes. 

“Yeah. You bet.” Dean barely restrains himself from giving Cas a big thumbs up.

Cas’ face, if possible, turns even more disconsolate. Dean’s stomach twists at the sight. 

This would be the correct moment to confess. Cas, I don’t have the faintest idea what you said, but I’d really like it if you could say it again in English, so that I could maybe comment on it. Sorry I’m such a jackass. 

Dean does not confess. He reaches out and claps Cas on the shoulder, almost buckling Cas’ knees under the friendly contact. Dean almost stops, but he continues to his room, trying to erase the memory of Cas’ stricken face. 

---

It gets worse. 

Cas says something in Enochian to him the next morning, a tiny, hopeful smile darting across his face. Dean gives him a weak smile in return and tries not to focus on the longing, almost desperate tone of Cas’ voice. “Ok, Cas,” he says, when it becomes clear Cas is angling for something more than a smile that makes it look like he ate some bad tacos. 

Cas takes him by the wrist. This time the syllables which come out of his mouth are almost frantic. His eyes are wide and imploring, and his voice cracks on the last word. 

The truth, Dean. Tell him the truth. 

“Look, I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean says. Confronted by the weight of his failings and his inadequacies, he flees. All the while, he feels Cas’ eyes on his back. 

---

It gets worse. 

Cas continues to mutter Enochian at him, alternating between frustrated, hurt, mocking, and pleading inflections. Each time, Dean looks at him in a mixture of helplessness and shame. 

The last time Cas tries, there’s a faint snap and tingle of grace curling around the room. Dean can taste it in the air, ozone and electricity, before it makes the lamp closest to him spark and pop. “Great, now you’re killing the furniture,” comes out of his mouth before he can stop it. 

Cas recoils as though Dean reached out and slapped him. He says something else in Enochian, his voice small and defeated. He won’t even look at Dean. 

If Dean were a better person, he would come clean. He would apologize to Cas and beg his forgiveness. He would take Cas’ scorn and irritation and lump it in with the rest of the shit that’s gone wrong with his life, and they would move past this. 

Dean’s not a good person. Hell, he’s not even an okay person. He’s a piece of shit who got a hell of a lot luckier than he ever deserved, and Cas is just naive enough not to realize that. 

---

It gets worse. 

Sam walks into the library one afternoon with a dazed look on his face which means he’s just emerged from being caught deep in a book. He runs his hands through his hair and only then seems to realize that Dean and Cas are sitting at opposite ends of the library, deliberately ignoring each other. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut. 

“You guys okay?” he asks, glancing back and forth between them. 

“We’re good,” Dean says shortly, flipping a page of his book with unneeded aggression. 

Sam flicks his eyes towards Castiel. Cas looks over the top of his book, his eyebrows twisted in a scowl. He mutters something most definitely not English under his breath, staring at Dean. 

Sam chokes on nothing. 

“You all right there, Sammy?” Dean glances at Sam, only to see that his brother’s face is bright red. 

“Yeah, I’m great.” 

Castiel says something else in Enochian, sounding more forlorn than angry. Dean didn’t think it was possible for his brother’s eyes to get any wider. “Something you want to share with the rest of the class?” Dean asks. He keeps his eyes on Cas, but the question is meant for both of them. 

“I think you two should really talk,” Sam says, looking back and forth between him and Cas. “I think you’re both missing some information.” 

“What do you mean--” Dean pauses as the obvious answer comes to him. “Hold on. You can understand him?” 

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room,” Castiel says, proving that he can speak English just damn fine when he wants to. Then, because Cas is an asshole whose main job is torturing Dean, he mutters something in Enochian. 

Sam snorts. 

If he didn’t know he would later regret it, Dean would put both of them in the ground. 

“Well, if you want someone to talk to you, then knock it off and speak English!” Dean snaps. “I’ve got no idea why you’re babbling on like that and looking like I kicked your puppy when I don’t answer.” 

Cas scowls, the full wrath of Heaven in his eyes. He starts what sounds like it will no doubt be a lengthy tirade (in Enochian of fucking course), before he’s interrupted by Sam. 

“Dean doesn’t understand Enochian, Cas!” he shouts. 

Two pairs of eyes snap to Sam. Dean’s are filled with furious betrayal, Cas’ with frustrated confusion. Sam ignores them both, rolling his own eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah, look, I’m sorry to cut in your drama or whatever, and I’m sure that you two could keep this up for another three weeks, but I value my sanity. Dean, nut up and tell Cas you don’t speak Enochian. Cas, stop running into a brick wall and tell him what you want. I mean, good God, it’s like I have to do everything around here myself!” 

Sam’s complaining never ceases as he peruses the shelves for the particular book he’s looking for. Both Dean and Cas are referred to multiple times as idiots, sometimes assholes, and once even idjits. Throughout his litany of abuse, Dean and Castiel refuse to look at each other, though Dean does feel a telltale prickling at the back of his neck several times. Every time he looks at Cas, however, the angel has his eyes firmly fixed on his book. 

Dean wonders if Cas would get more pissed if he told him his book was upside down. 

“You ever think about how much pain and agony you could save me if you two assholes would just talk to each other?” Sam finally snaps. Arms laden with books, he levels a fearsome glare at the both of them. “For homework, neither of you are coming out of this library until you’ve actually talked to each other like rational adults. And if you make any weird noises, I’m going to smother both of you in your sleep.” 

He stalks out of the library, leaving Cas and Dean alone once more. Cas looks up from his book, finally realizing it’s upside-down, while Dean puts down his own book. They stare at each other for a long moment, then speak at once. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t understand Enochian?” “What were you trying to say to me?” 

They stop. Dean swallows, gathers up all of his manly courage, and speaks. 

“So what were you trying to say to me? It must have been pretty exciting to get Sammy clutching his pearls.” 

Cas tilts his head. He considers Dean for a long moment before he crosses the space between them. Cas leans forward, putting his hands on the arms of Dean’s chair. The gesture boxes Dean in, a turn of events which Dean doesn’t struggle against. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t speak Enochian?” 

Pinned beneath Cas’ gaze, Dean squirms uncomfortably. Now that it’s just him and Cas, his deception seems childish. Would it really have been the end of the world if he’d told Cas he was too stupid and selfish to learn his language? It would have just been another disappointment in Cas’ life, but has it been worth these past few days of being at odds with Cas? 

Heat flushes along the bridge of Dean’s nose as he mutters, “I wanted you to think I was smart.” 

Damn super-angelic hearing. Cas doesn’t miss a beat, though his forehead creases. “You wanted...what? Dean, you are smart.” 

He says it so naturally, as though Dean doesn’t struggle over translations or speaking Latin or cross-referencing indexes or any of the thousand other things that seem to come naturally as breathing to Sam and Cas. “Yeah, sure, I’m a regular fucking genius,” Dean mumbles. 

“You’re capable of finding the problem with a faulty engine with a single look. You built your own EMF meter out of a spare Walkman. Despite your efforts to hide it, you’re very well-read, and you have an innate understanding of some fairly complicated mathematics. I’m not sure exactly what humans qualify as intelligent, but I feel as though all of those skills count.” 

Dean knows his whole face is red. Heat prickles along the tips of his ears and down his neck. “Jesus, Cas,” he mutters. Unable to withstand the force of those blue eyes, he darts his glance down towards the floor. “Most people don’t start sweet talking until the third date.” 

“Well, I’m an angel,” Castiel says, smugly, as though that solves every argument (not a bad strategy; that line’s worked for Cas for years. What else can you say after that?). 

“All right, I answered yours, now you answer mine. What were you trying to say to me?”

Amazingly, Cas’ cheeks color. 

“Come on, Cas,” Dean wheedles, when Cas doesn’t immediately answer. “I told you mine.” 

Cas looks off to the side. He actually shuffles his feet before he answers, “It was just a thought. I thought, maybe, we could...Never mind. It was stupid.” He looks back at Dean and rolls his eyes, showing how ridiculous he finds this whole trial. “I guess, roughly translated, it would amount of something like ‘If only he were as decisive as he is pretty, then there would be no problem’.” He forces a weak laugh. “I said it in the heat of the moment. I was frustrated.” 

Dean blinks in astonishment. Only one fact has managed to slip through the tangle of Cas’s words. “You think I’m pretty?” 

Castiel’s blush deepens. “Anyone who has eyes would think that,” he says, a little roughly. 

An automatic flush spreads across Dean’s cheeks, but he’s able to ignore that. He’s much more interested in what else Cas might have been telling him. “And what was something else you said?” 

Cas coughs. “’Your eyes are bright as the sunrise, yet they fail to see what is in front of them’,” he says. If possible, his already rough voice has deepened. 

“Another.” 

Cas doesn’t pretend coyness. “’You had my heart from the first time I saw your soul’,” he says, in a near whisper. 

Dean can’t hold himself back. He snatches Cas’ hoodie in his hands and drags Cas down to his level. Cas lets out a surprised grunt before he gracefully collapses atop Dean. He’s barely managed to balance himself on Dean’s lap before Dean’s lip are on his. 

Despite Dean’s rushed actions, the kiss is sweet and almost chaste. Cas’ lips are warm and chapped and utterly wonderful. At first, they’re stiff, but only for a second. Then Cas relaxes into the kiss, sighing happily as his hand cups Dean’s cheek. Cas’ stubble scratches against his chin. He’s going to bear the marks of Cas’ affection later, and he couldn’t be more thrilled about it. 

Cas parts from him, but not far. In fact, he’s close enough to Dean that when whispers a phrase in Enochian, his lips brush against Dean’s. 

A shiver of delight runs down Dean’s spine. Now that he knows the gist of what Cas was trying to say to him, Enochian fills him with illicit glee. “What did that mean?” 

Cas kisses him again, adding a cunning sweep of his tongue across the seam of Dean’s lips. “’Of all the stars in the heavens, you shine the brightest’,” he translates, resting his forehead against Dean’s. 

Heat floods through Dean once more. It’s everything he ever dreamed of hearing. It seems impossible that he could have it. There should be a rule against it. Dean Winchester doesn’t get what he wants. 

Except, apparently, Dean Winchester does get what he wants, as evidenced by his lapful of angel murmuring Enochian endearments into his ear. “Hey Cas?” Dean tilts his head to catch Cas’ eye. “When I first saw you, sparks flew. How would you say that in Enochian?�� 

Cas thinks for a second before a smile spreads across his face. “I’ll teach you,” he promises, before he pulls Dean’s face towards him once more. 

(Sam’s warning about making weird noises makes a lot more sense now.)

[queenbeean]

she's mine / ari levinson

werewolf au

author’s note: fic for @lielullabye 500 challenge, congratulations💕(this is a repost of my work) dedicated to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork love you amber💕

warnings: angst, mentions of sexual harassment, threats

prompts: slight beauty and the beast au; werewolf!ari x mate!reader

read please: this is an alternate universe with ari levinson, in this fic there’s no RSDR, no guy thomas, just the man with the same principles and ideals; also, my knowledge on werewolf dynamics is limited, i’m writing this with what i know from what i’ve read before

“Why do you hate her so much?” Sam asked Ari. They were coming back from yet another successful battle against rogues. Those wolves were tormenting packs all around the state and Ari made it his mission to help as many packs as he could. But the rogues were still coming, they were relentless.

“I don’t hate her.” He grumbled.

Ari didn’t want a mate. Simple as that. He didn’t want to deal with caring about someone who had the power to kill him. He was fine with saving packs from being murdered by rogues. That was his mission in life. No getting distracted.

Until she came along. Until he saved her.

Ari wanted to despise her. He needed to hate her.

Why couldn’t he just bring himself to reject her?

He had tried so many times. It would be so easy to go up to her, reject her and be free of their so called bond. The human in him didn’t want to be cruel. But he couldn’t allow himself to care for her, for anybody. That was the animalistic part of him. Because the wolf part of him wanted nothing more than to be her mate.

Still he couldn’t do it.

“Okay, then. Let me rephrase.” Sam chuckled, making Ari grit his teeth. “Why do you dislike her so much?”

“Can we not do this right now? I’m tired.”

“We never do this. You are always tired when it comes to her. Funny because she’s as quiet about you whenever I ask her.”

Ari’s head whipped so fast in Sam’s direction. “So now you are talking to her?” He demanded to know, his Alpha voice coming through. He didn’t know why Sam talking to her was making his blood boil.

Sam’s laugh boomed. It was so easy riling him up when it came to Y/N. “So what if I am?” He taunted.

Ari stopped the car, tires screeching on the pavement, making the cars behind struggle to stop as well. He got out of the car and before going to Sam’s side, he mind-linked his wolves.

“Everybody get to the house, now!”

The first driver resumed driving and the rest followed. The Alpha’s orders were clear. They wouldn’t want to disobey in any way, especially with an angry Alpha.

Ari opened Sam’s door and took him out by his shirt. “She’s a really nice girl, Ari.” Sam continued his teasing. If Ari wasn’t so angry, he’d realise what Sam’s intentions were. He would also know that Sam meant no harm and would never disrespect Y/N nor his Alpha. “Why are you so worked up over me and her?”

Ari dropped him and Sam took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Back at the pack house, Ari walked in with his mind set on someone. His pack bowed in respect and in other circumstances, he would nod in acknowledgement but he was on a mission. He opened door, making young wolves whimper in fear, something he regretted instantly. He tried calming himself down but the she and Sam would pop into his mind.

At last he found her. The sight in front of him doing something to his heart. Y/N was sitting with a book in her hands, the pages showing cartoon wolves. Around fifteen toddler wolves were sitting in front of her, their attention on the captivating woman telling the story. Her hands moving gracefully and her words smooth as honey.

“Fuck.” Ari muttered under his breath. Y/N gasped, letting him know that she had heard and so would the younglings would have if they weren’t so captured by the story. Their eyes locked and she looked away first, intimidated by his hard stare. “Y/N, a word.” She nodded in acknowledgement and closed the bedtime story.

Simultaneous whines came from the young wolves. “It’s time to sleep. We can finish tomorrow.” She said in a soft voice and Ari cursed in his mind. He stepped aside as the wolves dragged their feet towards their respective rooms. Ari let out a small chuckle at the sight. “How can I help you?” His head snapped in her direction and instinctively took a step back, something as an Alpha he shouldn’t have done. Weakness. Exactly why he didn’t want a mate. Especially a beautiful one with a voice like velvet.

Y/N bowed her head and took two steps back when Ari did that. He hasn’t officially rejected her yet but she knew it would nearly kill her whenever he did. It was already painful and he had only put some space between them. It was a ticking bomb that he was handing her and she no choice but to accept it.

Ari swallowed hard as he realised what he made her feel but then Sam’s words sounded in his mind again. “Why have you been talking to Sam?” No, he wasn’t beating around the bush. He needed to know with urgency what was going between his Beta and his very own mate.

“What do you mean?” Y/N sounded genuinely confused.

Ari groaned. “Don’t play dumb, Y/N. He told me you two have been talking and I want to know why.” He didn’t realise he had walked into her personal space until there was nothing else he could smell but her. And it was maddening.

“Alpha,” Y/N whispered, feeling her heart beating worryingly fast and her wolf clawing for a way out, ready to be with her mate.

The way his title sounded coming out of her lips pushed him to the edge. In a swift movement, he carefully pushed her against the wall and kissed her. His lips were devouring her and she tried her best to keep up with him. As an Alpha, she knew he had the upper hand when it came to dominating her. And she loved it. The way his hands were firmly but gently cupping her cheeks until they needed air. Then one of his hands left to cup the back of her neck and the other to wrap around her waist. His hot breath fanned from his cheek, her jaw to her neck and shoulder as he placed open-mouthed kisses all over every inch of skin. She could do nothing but run her hands through his long hair, the feel of his silky strands were driving her crazy. And she gripped them tight when she felt his canines rubbing the place where her neck met her shoulder, what would be her marking spot.

As soon as Ari felt her tensing, he came to his senses and pulled away. His eyes locked with hers and his heart hurt when he saw the fresh tears gathering.

Y/N pushed herself off the wall and walked past Ari.

“Don’t take another step, Y/N.” He didn’t know what to tell her though, he didn’t know if he could succumb to her. She stopped, she couldn’t disobey direct orders from the Alpha, from her Alpha, her mate.

Ari saw her lips trembling but he couldn’t bring himself to move and get her in his arms. And he didn’t try stopping her when she moved. He just saw how she walked away from him, hurting him in the process.

Y/N ran out of the pack house all the way to the river a couple of miles into the woods. She knew he wasn’t following her but her body could still feel him. Then she yanked her clothes off and shifted, hoping that running would make him disappear from her thoughts. She needed to brace herself, harden her heart for when the time came that he would reject her. Because he had said so. Just waiting for the right time.

/

Ari’s wolf was going crazy. There was too much distance between him and his mate. The only thing that Ari staying put was knowing she was still in his territory. The patrolling wolves of that night let him know that she was safe. And as much as he hated it, Sam offering to keep her company kept his mind at peace.

He knew his resolution was crumbling but there was so much at stake for him. A few minutes with her had him losing focus. Nothing else existed but them. How was he supposed to care for an entire pack when he lost himself in her.

“Alpha Levinson.”

Ari looked up to the door and his blood boiled. Gabe Ashton was the type of wolf that shouldn’t be an Alpha. Ruthless, merciless and cocky. Had been tormenting wolves for years but without proof there was nothing much Ari could do to stop him. It didn’t help that he had an army of trained and loyal killers that somehow helped rogues destroy entire packs.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ari stood up and tried moving forward when Gabe presented a gun and pointed at him.

Gabe tsked. “Be smart, Ari. I came in peace, I promise.” His smile was taunting.

“What do you want?” Ari gritted through his teeth.

“I have a proposition for you and you will accept it.” Gabe grinned maniacally. “I’ve been planning for months. You have a nice pack. Strong wolves. Pretty she-wolves. You have pretty much everything. Last I heard you were only missing a mate to have the perfect pack…”

“Sam, get Y/N back to the house. Now!”

“I’ve been planning your destruction and today, something made me realise that I didn’t have to plan so much. I don’t even have to do much. You have a weakness but then again, you are not even that strong. Ari Levinson, the mighty Alpha, but are you really?”

“What do you want, Gabe?” Ari repeated, his hands fisted and his face red. Nobody threatened him or what was his.

“How’s that pretty new wolf of yours, your mate? You know, I saw her shift earlier. Got the whole show for myself. It’s funny. I didn’t catch any scent that would indicate she’s been claimed, she was reeking of you but no mark on her soft neck…” Gabe taunted, waving his hand in front of Ari. “Since you don’t seem to care about her, what about I mate her? I wonder how she would look under me as I make her mine-”

Ari lost it. He grabbed Gabe by his shirt and slammed him against the wall. Gun going off before dropping to the floor.

“One more word out of you and I’ll fucking end you.” He threatened. “She’s my mate, you hear me. Mine!”

Sam burst into the room. “Ari, Y/N… she’s gone.” Sam’s voice was frantic.

Gabe chuckled and Ari growled.

“Oops, too late I guess.”

[killianmesmalls]

Seeing the Signs

A short fic with Cas and Jack that takes place between 14x03 and 14x06, directly after their hunt in Sarasota. Just some father/son stuff for no reason. 

---

Castiel could feel the humidity sticking to his vessel’s skin, could sense the odd looks from passersby. A trenchcoat over a suit in the middle of Florida, he admitted to himself, was a strange sight even while driving in a thunderstorm. Just a few years ago, he wouldn’t have noticed the difference, but so much time amongst humans and a wave of pop culture knowledge allowed him to at least understand the glances in his direction.

Then again, this was Florida. They had seen weirder. Besides, he had bigger concerns.

Jack had been talkative the whole drive to Sarasota. Hell, there had been a time or two that Cas had attempted the age-old “quiet game” he’d read about in at least 20 of his child-rearing books in order to get the boy to settle. A pang of guilt snapped at his chest, knowing how much his son’s energy was due to pure excitement of just being allowed on a hunt.

Now? Jack was quiet, staring out the window as the typical afternoon storm made its way through. His thin finger traced the tracks of a raindrop before it gathered at the base of the passenger side window.

“Jack?” he tried, glancing at the boy. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah.”

“If there’s something you want to talk about—”

“I’m fine, Cas. I promise.”

The winding interstate traffic around Tampa began to peter off along with the rain. Suddenly, Jack’s focus turned upward as signs indicated exits for Orlando and Kissimmee before he seemed to remember whatever thoughts he had been locked in.

“Jack—”

“I said I’m fine.”

The rise of parental frustration bubbled inside Cas. He knew, in spite of everything the boy had been through and everything he had learned, he was still very much a child. It was occasionally difficult for humans to see, considering they assigned such importance to smaller units of time: months, years, decades, and even more importance to appearance. As an angel, his eons made all other increments or visages almost inconsequentially different. Sam and Dean were human adults with more experience and trauma than he’d wish on any other of his father’s imperfect, perfect creations. Still, they were blips in existence compared to him.

Jack? Nephilim, human, whatever he may be now, Cas could never shake just how very young he was. Eighteen months. Eighteen months of trauma and responsibility and weight on his shoulders, but only eighteen months.

Still an infant by human standards, not that he had the chance to experience proper infancy, Jack was physically confusing to describe even for Sam and Dean. Was he eighteen? Twenty? Twenty-two? Not that any of those made a difference to Cas. Eighteen months in a teenage-to-young-adult body with the lost powers of an eldritch being wasn’t something they discussed in parenting books.

Cas heaved a sigh and, just as the last of the rain trickled off, pulled the car over.

“What? I said I’m fine,” insisted Jack before the car had even come to a full stop.

“We both know that is not true. Now, Jack, I want you to know that I respect your right to privacy and, should you need time on your own to sort out anything you’re thinking through, then I will continue on and we can hopefully work this through together if you cannot do it on your own. However, I am unable to ignore a marked difference in your behavior from the start of this trip to now and, if there is anything in my power I am able to do, I wish to help. Something is on your mind and I am here to listen if you’re willing to talk.”

A long quiet stretched between them. Just as Cas was about ready to restart the car and call it a temporarily lost cause, Jack shrugged.

“I just… I kept seeing signs.”

“Signs? Like, from heaven?”

“No,” the boy replied, shoulders curling slightly, “I mean road signs.”

“Well, Jack, we are on the road. Is there a specific one that upset you?”

“No, that’s not….” he trailed off and Cas could hear the teenage grunt of annoyance in the back of his throat. “I saw some signs for Disney World.”

Cas’s mind recalculated for a moment. “Disney World?”

“It’s stupid, never mind.”

At the dejected sound of his kid’s voice, Cas turned off the engine and fully glanced at him, admiring for a moment how very much this boy had been through hell and still looked like kindness personified. He felt a brief wave of remembrance for touching Kelly’s belly as the child kicked, solidifying in an instant their bond. Somehow, warzones and countless losses had not stripped that from them.

He’d be damned if continuing the wrong route down the interstate did.

“It is not stupid. Your feelings are never stupid. Misplaced maybe, depending on the circumstances, but never stupid, and certainly not now.”

Jack perked up as Cas finished, finally glancing his chosen father in the eyes. The look sent a swell through the angel, pushing him forward.

“We have some time before we need to be back home, and Sam and Dean will understand if we’re later than expected. Let’s go take a look and maybe, if you want, we can spend an extra day or two here and see a few things. Maybe meet this Mickey everyone has been discussing for so long.”

“Wait, really?” asked Jack, eyes wide.

“Really,” he said, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “While we’re here, we might as well. Besides, all work and no play—”

“Makes Jack a dull boy?”

“I was going to say ‘isn’t fun for anyone’ but I suppose I understand that reference. Though, remind me to tell Dean that The Shining is not appropriate viewing material for you.”

Jack rolled his eyes but, to Cas’s delight, at least shed a smile. “I kill monsters, I can watch horror movies.”

“Did you or did you not get nightmares after that one?”

Jack faked a cough and went back to looking out the window, smile broadening. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

“Remind me to also tell Sam not to give you law terms to use against us,” Cas said as he started the car back up and eased back onto the interstate.

From time to time, Cas took glimpses at the boy as they made way to Disney, spotting the smiles from him searching what he may want to experience in the parks in between counting down the miles. Though he didn’t like to spend the money they truly didn’t have on frivolous things like resort rooms and meal plans, there was nothing frivolous about this. For all that Jack had been through, he deserved this. He deserved to be a kid, to ride rides, to build a plastic lightsaber and hug a costumed character.

And, as Cas took the exit, he figured maybe a small part of him deserved it, as well.

[echoghost1]

Dannymay 2021 Day 10: Shadow

The Brighter The Light, The Bigger the Shadow

Summary: It's been a month since the accident and Danny still doesn't have any control. Or anyone on his side.

Word Count: 2077

And today's fic is brought to you by the age-old "ask and you shall receive" except I can't promise that it will arrive in a timely manner.

This is part 2 to the fic I did for Phic Phight called, What You Fear The Most

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut as per usual!

also going to tag a few people because they reblogged the last one and really enjoyed it: @blueoatmeal, @another-shameless-fangirl, @ilikepensandships

Danny’s locker was stuck. Again.

He sighed and let the lock drop from his hand as he rested his forehead against the cool metal. This is not what he needed right now.

It had been almost a month since his accident and he still wasn’t in control. He wasn’t sure how he had been able to slip under the radar at home for so long. It kept him up at night knowing that eventually, they were going to catch him. They were going to find out that he was a monster.

He was terrified of what that would mean.

But he didn’t want to think about that here. Not while he was at school. He had enough to deal with here and thinking about how he had accidentally turned himself into a monster some of the time wasn’t something he needed right now.

He took a breath to center himself and then stood up fully so he could try again.

Just after he heard the satisfying click of his combination unlocking, he was shoved face-first into his locker.

“Oops, I tripped,” Dash mocked, only proving that he had done it on purpose.

Danny turned his head so he could both breathe and talk. He was thankful that the push hadn’t broken his nose, “You okay?” Danny asked with no hint of actually caring.

“Yeah, I had a dork to catch my fall.” Dash was cackling in amusement before he even finished the sentence and his fellow footballers were just as amused.

“Lovely.” Danny deadpanned as he tried not to think about how a guy twice his size was crushing the air out of his lungs and absolutely no one seemed to notice. “You mind getting off?”

“Aw, what’s the matter, Fen-total-waste-of-space? Can’t handle a little weight?”

“I think you’re more than a little weight, bricks for brains!”

Dash pulled back and spun Dany around fast enough for him to get a little dizzy, “What the hell did you call me you little jerk!?” Dash screamed as he lifted Danny up by his shirt and slammed him against his locker again.

“Did I say that out loud?” he honestly hadn’t meant to, but then again it felt kind of nice to be able to fight back. Even if it was just with words.

He meant to sound apologetic, or even honestly surprised by his slip-up. Turns out grinning was the wrong facial expression to have.

“You think this is funny? Well here’s a new joke for you,” Dash started as he pulled Danny off of his locker, opened it up, and shoved Danny inside.

When Danny saw Dash’s grip on the door he knew he had to pull his legs in or risk them getting crushed. He pulled them in as close to his body as he could just as Dash slammed the locker down shut.

“Good luck talking your way out of that one you freak.” Dash sneered before punching the locker once before he walked away with this friends.

They all just laughed.

None of them stayed behind to help.

He wanted out. Needed to get out.

Dash had no idea how right he was about how freakish Danny was.

The space in the locker grew darker. Too dark.

He glared at the darkened door before him, the otherworldly green light was all he had to illuminate the impossibly dark space.

The hallway was quiet so he figured it didn’t matter now. It was too late anyway.

His nightmare form had been unleashed; he might as well use it to free himself.

He burst from his locker with a primal scream. His claws hit the floor first as his tail slid out like a snake behind him. The door clattered to the floor beside him, his books and papers scattered out around him, but he didn’t care. He was too angry to care.

There was a gasp behind him.

He whipped around and saw his friends. When did they get there? How much had they seen?

He slowly stood up, or floated upward, to his full height. He was usually the shortest in their group, but he towered over them now.

His elongated body of shadows was almost tall enough to touch the ceiling. He could touch the ceiling if he just reached up for it. It wouldn’t take much effort at all.

That was way too tall. No person should be that tall.

But he wasn’t a person right now, was he?

“Where’s Danny?” Tucker asked in almost a whisper.

They didn’t recognize him? Was that a good thing?

He looked back to the locker, his neck snapping loudly as he had turned his head too fast. He huffed in annoyance, because of course he couldn’t do anything without being pure nightmare fuel.

He turned back to his friends, slowly this time as to not repeat the same mistake.

They still looked horrified.

Was he moving too slow now?

He wondered if maybe it was the height? He was clearly too tall. Nobody liked being towered over. But he didn’t know how to not be tall.

He shrank down on himself. Got low to the floor and hoped that they would understand that he wasn’t going to hurt them.

Maybe he should just leave?

He started to back up, he peeked behind himself to gauge where the janitor’s closet was. He knew there was one nearby.

Found it!

He skittered backward as fast as he could. Too fast.

He ended up crawling backward up the door and halfway up the ceiling.

He stopped, opened the door, and slipped inside using his tail to close the door behind himself.

Sure, shutting himself inside the closet wasn’t much better than his locker, but it was at least a little roomier. He didn’t bother going for the light even if it was within his reach.

The last time he turned on a light in this form, the lightbulbs exploded. He really didn’t want to clean up a bunch of glass again.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm back down. If he could calm down he would shift back.

At least that was his theory anyway. He still had no idea how this whole thing worked.

He felt his tail wrap around himself. It was long enough at it coiled around him more than once and the tip rested on his shoulder. He tried not to think about this form seemed to favor the tail instead of legs. Then again, in this instance, the prehensile tail made more sense than long spindly legs. It didn’t make it any less weird though.

He was so focused on himself that he didn’t notice that the door had opened.

Sam stood there, staring down at him. “Danny?”

He opened his mouth to answer her, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. To acknowledge that she was right? To deny it?

It didn’t matter. All that came out was indistinguishable static and moans.

He snapped his mouth shut, his hands clamping over it. He didn’t want them to see him like this. He didn’t want to be like this.

Why couldn’t he just be normal? Why didn’t he just die in the portal?

She pulled him into a hug and all his thoughts just stopped.

“It’s okay! You’re okay,” she hugged him tighter but it didn’t stop him from slipping his arms out from between them and hugging her back.

“It’s not okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he cried his apologies into her shoulder.

She leaned back and held his face in her hands, “Why are you sorry Danny?”

He pulled away from her. He knew he had changed back, but he could still feel all that darkness just under his skin, it danced on the edges of his being, eager to come forth again. “Because I never wanted you to see me like that.” He pulled his hoodie sleeves up and over his fingers so the oversized fabric engulfed his hands completely, “I scared you.”

“Don’t be silly Danny,” Sam smiled as she reached out and touched his balled-up sleeve-covered hand, “you didn’t scare us.”

“Speak for yourself.” Tucker scoffed from his spot lingering on the edge of the doorway.

Sam snapped her attention back to Tucker, “Not helping!”

“At least he’s being honest,” Danny muttered.

She looked back at him with a slightly less annoyed glare, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He hadn’t meant for her to hear that, but given how close she was, he really should have expected it. He pulled his hand away from her and used both arms to hug his stomach, “Because I know I scared you both. I can tell.”

“How do you know?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“I’m afraid I’d scare you more if I told you.”

“Well that certainly wasn’t ominous,” Tucker quipped nervously as he bounced on the balls of his feet. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but right where he was.

Danny didn’t blame him for wanting to run away. It hurt, but he understood.

“If you want to go, it’s okay. I get it if you don’t want to be friends anymore.”

“Whoa there,” Tucker dropped to his knees and shuffled in closer so he could also place a hand on Danny’s shoulder, “No one said anything about not being friends. Sure I’m scared, we all are. That includes you, Dude. I’m not going to leave you alone just because you can get spooky sometimes.”

“Get Spooky?” Danny deadpanned.

“Well, what do you call it?” Tucker shrugged as he best defense.

Danny looked down and pulled his knees closer to his chest, “I don’t really call it anything.” he wrapped his arms around his legs so he could pull them even closer, “I try not to think about it.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together,” Sam said as she placed her hand on his knee again.

Danny didn’t know where she got all that confidence from. She was still scared. He could tell even in this form.

“So, I’m probably going to hate myself for asking, but,” Tucker took a breath then sat down fully, one knee tapping against the floor while the other stayed perpendicular to his body. “How did you know Sam was scared?”

Danny looked from Tucker’s nervous curiosity to Sam’s steely resolve. He bit his lip but couldn’t think of a reason not to tell them. They’d seen him at his worst and they didn’t run away.

“I can,” gosh he really hoped that this wouldn’t be the thing to push them away, “ I can smell it?”

“What does it smell like?”

“Red.”

“Red what?” Tucker asked.

“The color.”

“The color?” he repeated sounding even more confused than when he had asked his initial question.

“Yeah.”

“You smell emotions in colors?” he asked to clarify.

Danny sat up and threw his hands out for emphasis, “Look my senses have been really weird since the accident. I think all that electricity scrambled my brains or something.”

His friends just shared a look so he continued.

“Ghost stuff feels like flavors to me now. Like the portal, it felt sour. That might just be all ectoplasm though, or at least the raw stuff anyway. Oh and sometimes,” he paused mostly because his brain was going so fast and he still hadn’t found all the words to explain what he had been going through in the last several weeks. Plus this was the first time he was saying any of this out loud. “Sometimes I have trouble holding or touching things. Like I’m not really there. And when that happens my body or just parts of it, feel spicy? But if spicy was cold instead of hot.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

Danny slumped back against the shelving unit behind him. He knew it was weird but he didn’t know how else to describe it.

“Actually I think I know.” sam said slowly as she nodded to herself.

“You do?” the boys both asked with slight variations of confusion. Tucker’s was more towards disbelief, while Danny was a little more hopeful.

“It’s like he’s trying to translate it, but there are no words for it. Not in English anyway.”

Before Danny could ask what she meant the bell rang.

“Oh gosh I exploded my locker all over the hall and we’re going to be late for class!” Danny scrambled out of the closet and passed his friends.