#and then of course it doesn’t work on Sam. doesn’t kill him.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Lilith being jealous of Sam and wanting him gone in s3 is :3 someone wants to get rid of their dad’s boytoy so they get all the attention again!

[bunni-v1]

Heyyaaa

May I request dorm leaders finding out you’re a girl please? If it’s too much u can make a part 2

Dorm Leaders Find Out You're a Girl?!?!?! (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!)

TW: Mentions of transphobia (nothing awful, just literally dropping the word lol); Idia is creepy

Info: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus x Reader (Platonic or Romantic); Fluff, Comedy(?)

🍓This one is gonna be long, like 5.3k words long. I love writing the dorm leaders so damn much <3 Besides, there’s been a long wait for this one, so I hope I make it worth it! You might see some favoritism shine through, but I did my best to keep it even. Hope you all enjoy!

Tags: @kierancaz @danchann33 @arashrita @the-ace-reader @akiyamasmizuki @kitsun369 @bloomstruck (I think I got all of you)

First Years

Ortho Sebek

Second Years

Third Years

-Okay so, I know we’re all wondering, how the hell do you get away with hiding your gender for so damn long?

-Firstly, those ceremonial robes do great at hiding the figure. The only tell would maybe be your hair, but feminine men aren’t unwelcome at Nightraven College, so you mostly get a few questioning stares and that’s it.

-Secondly, Crowley wants to save his own fucking ass. He already has to hide from the press that he has a MAGICLESS student from ANOTHER DIMENSION here, he doesn’t need the fact that you are a woman ALSO on his plate. So, obviously, he helps you hide your gender from others.

-Grim knows, of course, and he keeps his mouth shut for a few yummy cans of tuna (and threats of being expelled from Crowley <3)

-Even when you were just a janitor, he couldn’t have the rumor that he put a “helpless” young woman to work. (Like it wouldn’t be expected.)

-So how do you two do it?

-Baggy ass uniform. Crowley gave you at least three sizes too big.

-Your figure is completely hidden. Sure, you look completely homeless, but at least you’re hidden.

-For your voice, you simply deepen it. After some point, you blackmail Crowley into giving you a potion to help with it, since it's so taxing on your voice. (Or maybe your voice is naturally deep!)

-Sam provides you (for an unfairly pretty penny (not too different from your original world…)) any feminine hygiene products you might need.

-Honestly, you’re set for being cared for, but it’s the adjustment period that’s the hardest part. 

-Truly, it’s very jarring to suddenly be thrown into both a magical world and be isolated in a man's world with nowhere to hide.

-At least in your world you had other women who could understand your struggles. Here though? You’re completely alone.

-You notice how… messy some of these guys could be. How some of them smell… really rancid. -How rough they were with you and each other.

-Honestly, it’s kinda eye-opening. The way men show affection to each other is oddly refreshing to watch and experience!

-Ace and Deuce specifically are a good… trial run.

-That’s not what we’re here to talk about though…

-For the most part, it's incredibly easy to hide yourself for the first while on campus. Everyone on campus is so self-absorbed that they don’t bother questioning you.

-Your only real risk factor is Savannaclaw, but it's easy to avoid those guys (minus Jack, of course).

-However, you can only hide your gender for so long… It’s mentally draining to keep up this facade all the time around people you care about.

-So… how do they find out?

Riddle

-Riddle is the last student in Heartslabyul to find out.

-It’s not like he did anything to you for you to hold off on telling him (you know, other than the whole almost killing you that one time thing), it’s just that you don’t feel inclined to tell him. 

-Simple as that.

-He also really has no reason to question your gender. 

-Riddle didn’t have must interaction with people his own age until he came to night raven college, he doesn’t have the same social ideologies as other people do.

-Nightraven college is really his first touch with society outside of his mothers very watchful, conservative eye.

-So, excuse him for not picking up on stupid little gendered norms that the other students do.

-In his eyes, you dress like a man, you act (sort of) like the other male students, and you prefer he/him pronouns. 

-There’s nothing more to it then, right? If you identify as a man, he has no reason not to treat you as such - nor should he suspect you would hide your gender like that.

-Besides, this is an all boys school! Crowley wouldn’t allow you to attend here unless you were also a boy… right?

-He is aware there are exceptions — and you are already QUITE the exception, but surely Crowley wouldn’t be so cruel as to force a young woman to attend an all boys academy.

-Ah, sweet Riddle, ever in denial.

-He isn’t STUPID though. He notices how brotherly Trey is to you. He knows (and has heard) your many “secret sleepovers” with Cater.

-He ignores these things and doesn’t comment on them simply because, well, he likes you!

-He helps to tutor you sometimes, and he’s gotten to know you through that, and he really does come around on enjoying your presence.

-So, he ignores Trey and Cater’s odd behaviors for your sake.

-You keep him and his dorm members in high spirits, why would he want to shoo something like that away?

-He doesn’t really questionthings until he… overhears a conversation between Deuce and Ace. (A rather loud one, for how supposedly secret this topic was meant to be).

-One of them had gotten in trouble with a professor, and he was going to give them a stern scolding when he overheard what they were talking about.

-“Deuce, dude, you’re gonna want to sit down for this one.”

“What is it, I’m busy trying to finish my potionology homework.”

“Seriously this one is crazy, you’re not ready for for it.”

“Ace, if you’re just messing with me I’m going to leave.”

“Dude, the prefect is a girl.”

“…What?”

-Riddle did not bother the two after that. In fact, he just walked back to his room to sit and think about what he just overheard.

-It DID make sense. You didn’t quite fit in with everyone else for reasons outside of your otherworldly origin.

-You acted differently than the typical guy here at NRC, and you seemed to get along with the peers that were more ‘traditionally feminine’ best.

-It would explain Trey’s coddling and Cater’s secretiveness.

-Still, he didn’t want to assume. This was Ace and Deuce, and Ace could just be messing around with Deuce.

-So, at your next tutoring session, he broaches the subject as politely as possible.

-“So, prefect, I have… overheard something that I wanted to ask you about.”

“Oh no, am I in trouble because of Ace and Deuce again.”

“Not… technically… I did, however, overhear them talking about… you being a woman.”

“…I’m gonna kill them.”

“I could collar them for you, if that would help.”

-The confirmation was reassuring for Riddle in multiple ways. 

-1) Ace isn’t as terrible of a person as the thought he was.

-2) He wasn’t crazy in noticing the slight differences in you and your other peers.

-Now, you and Riddle aren’t exactly super close by any means, so your interactions with each other are limited to when you’re either being tutored or with friends in Heartslabyul.

-However, he is notably more nervous than he usually is.

-He doesn’t have some super secret crush on your all of the sudden, he just… never really had a chance to interact with women before.

-His mom kept him very sheltered from the opposite gender, so he has little to no experience with them.

-On top of that, because of his mother, he does have a slight fear of women. He’s afraid he’s going to upset you and you’ll blow a fuse on him or something.

-You have to assure him that you don’t bite and you won’t suddenly start screaming at him for no reason, and then he begins to relax a bit.

-Still, he’s very sweet and gentlemanly to you.

-If you need help with anyone around campus, you should come to him and he will have them dealt with accordingly.

Leona

-Leona “Respects Women” Kingscholar.

-Leona has SLIGHTLY worse smell than Ruggie, but he also knew immediately upon your arrival that you were a girl.

-In fact, he knew you weren’t a trans man, because they smell distinctly different from the typical woman.

-There aren’t many trans people in the Savannah though, so Ruggie not being able to pick up on that doesn’t really shock him.

-Leona, however, has smelled and seen plenty of trans people in his life time — you aren’t one of them.

-He won’t lie, he’s definitely interested in you. Women where he comes from are big and strong and proud, you’re just kind of plain.

-He keeps his ever curious eye on you though, because he’s interested in how you might navigate this whole thing.

-Now don’t get it twisted, he doesn’t care about you, he’s curious about you. 

-If you were to ask him for help on something, he wouldn’t offer it. (Not that you would, you seem particularly averse to him).

-However, if he were to see some creep trying to… well… creep on you, he’d chase them away without ever having you know he did.

-He was your secret bodyguard who wouldn’t admit it even if you held a knife to his throat.

-Still, he stayed out of your way and you stayed out of his. 

-A symbiotic relationship that you weren’t even aware existed… until you got in his way.

-Like Ruggie, when you start getting a little too involved in his ahem business, he gets pretty damn annoyed.

-You’re not exactly a threat to start, but you are a little trouble maker. If you find out what he’s up to, you’ll ruin his plans completely, and he can’t have that.

-However, he’s not exactly comfortable “taking care of you” like he is his male peers.

-He respects women, okay, you can’t blame him for not wanting to purposefully hurt you. (If his mom and brother found out, he’d never hear the damn end of it)

-He sends out Ruggie to scare you off, explicitly telling him he can’t hurt you on purpose.

-He knows Ruggie already has an idea of what’s going on, so he doesn’t have any qualms with telling him to be careful with you.

-Still, despite all this, he doesn’t really broach the topic until he’s forced to.

-He’s made it known to you, at this point, that he knows your secret. 

-He hasn’t caused you any extra trouble since his overblot, and he keeps his dorm members off your back, so you have no reason to interact with him… until, again, you get yourself into trouble.

-This time it’s YOU dragging him into your mess, despite him wanting nothing to do with it.

-You are convincing, though, so he gives and allows you to stay in his dorm room — rent free! Isn’t he so nice.

-Jack offers himself for protection if you need it, but you can see that Ruggie is quite bemused with the whole situation, so you decide to turn him down.

-Leona hasn’t tried anything yet, and he really could if he wanted to.

-You decide you can trust him. (You have to trust him).

-Then presents the issue of sharing a bed.

-Leona isn’t a weird pervert, okay. He isn’t absolutely leaping at the idea to be in bed with you — he’s so sorry.

-Honestly, it makes him a bit… uncomfortable.

-Sharing a bed is something you do with family or someone you’re involved with, not the weird magic-less kid who’s at least three years too young for you.

-So, Leona, ever the women’s rights activist, approaches you with a proposition.

-“Listen, I know you’re a woman and I know you know that. We’re not sharing a bed, there ain’t no way that’s happening.”

“Oh, so would you like the poor helpless homeless woman to sleep on the floor? How cruel can you be Leona.”

“Shut up, I’m not gonna do that to you. Listen, you can have the bed all to yourself and I’ll sleep on the couch, so long as you promise not to tell a single soul about this.”

“I promise.”

-You immediately tell Ruggie the next morning, and he is sure to make sure Leona never forgets it.

-Living with Leona for the short period of time that you do is very insightful!

-He’s actually pretty funny, much smarter than he lets on, and almost brotherly to you. Which does not fit the M.O. you built of him in your head.

-He’s gruff and pushy, but he does it out of genuineness.

-You end up getting really close to him because of it. 

-His quiet and laid-back demeanor are a break from the chaos of everyone else on campus, and he doesn’t make a big deal out of anything so you can just complain and he nods along unbothered.

-Only thing you notice that upsets him is when you bring up guys who bother you.

-Those guys tend to stop bothering you shortly after. How strange…

Azul

-Azul is hands down the last person on campus you want knowing about this.

-Riddle, Ruggie, Trey, Cater and pretty much everyone with half a brain tell you to stay as far away from him as possible.

-You see him in the halls sometimes, and he doesn’t look to bad. Unapproachable, sure, but he’s a rather pretty guy. Well put together and seemingly very smart from what you’ve been told.

-He helped to subdue Grim in the opening ceremony, so you know he’s magically capable. He’s also a house warden, so that goes unspoken, I suppose.

-He seems interested in you, from what you can tell. He always waves at you when he does see you in a sort of fake friendly kind of way. 

-You’ve seen him and his little (large, very large) goonies admiring ramshackle before.

-You’ve also politely asked them to not do that when you moved in, because it freaks you out a lot. To which they all gave you very eerie smiles and walked away.

-They remind you of a very small mafia, and you decided to heed your friends warnings because of that.

-You do so successfully for a long time too. Other than the few previously stated interactions, Azul seems un-inclined to bother you, and you don’t want to catch his leering eyes.

-Little do you know, Azul has a much more watchful eye on you that you initially thought.

-Sure, you don’t have much to offer him magic wise, but you have ramshackle. Oh, how he wants ramshackle.

-You are key to obtaining it, he just… has to find something on you first.

-You’re so painfully average. Perhaps a little more pretty in the face than his other peers, but you sacrifice that with the atrociousness of your uniform. 

-Truly, nothing about you is different.

-He almost gives up until Grim delivers him an opportunity in a pretty little bow.

-You agree to his contract out of the goodness of your heart, just like he knew you would. So sweet and kind are you, to practically hand him the deed to ramshackle on a silver platter.

-He notices, however, that Jade grows a very… sudden fascination with you.

-Sure, he told both Jade and Floyd to keep and eye on you and keep you in like, but for Jade to be so interested… very odd.

-Then, shortly after, Floyd’s own interest is piqued. Alright… less odd than Jade, but to have both of their eyes on you must mean he’s missing something. (I know I previously said that Floyd found out after Azul, but I was stupid and wrong and you should never listen to me when I’m talking about Floyd).

-He tries to get it out of them by any means, Asking, blackmailing, manipulation. He really does try, but their lips are sealed tight.

-It frustrates him to no end that they know something he doesn’t, and that he can’t figure out this very big secret.

-It stumps him for so long, because he’s looking in all the wrong places for the answer.

-Meanwhile, you know that Jade and Floyd know and you are TERRIFIED waiting for Azul to use this against you.

-The suspense starts killing you and making you anxious enough that its affecting sleep, so you decide to bite the bullet and arrange a meeting with him.

-Azul is honestly delighted, because he was just going to outright force the truth from you at this point.

-“I’m glad you set up this meeting, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“I know… I’ve been pretty nervous about it since Jade and Floyd started pestering me.”

“Before I talk about what I want to, I’d like to hear what you have to say. I’m a good listener after all.”

“Too good, if you ask me. Uhm, anyway, so I know that Jade and Floyd to you that I’m a girl already, but I’m really hoping you would just leave me be. You owe me after all.”

“…You’re a girl?”

“Did they not tell you…?”

-what. What? WHAT?!?!?!

-How could he not tell, he feel so incredibly stupid. Its so obvious now that he thinks about it.

-No wonder Jade and Floyd wouldn’t stop teasing him about it.

-He agrees not to let the secret out — he DOES owe you his life, after all. This is a minor trade.

-However, he does not mentally recover from this revelation for a while.

-He doesn’t treat you very different, I suppose. He’s more gentlemanly with you, and is generally more friendly, but those things come from saving a persons life regardless.

-He is, surprisingly, willing to ensure your whole gender thing doesn’t get out so long as you work a few hours at the monster lounge.

-Probably the best at keeping it to himself and making sure it doesn’t get out. You wouldn’t expect any less with Azul, though.

Kalim

-You and Kalim don’t really have much of a chance to interact.

-He seems sweet enough, and you know he’s much kinder than the rest of the dorm leaders, but you don’t really have any reason to interact with him.

-Kalim also doesn’t think too much of you. 

-You caused a ruckus at the entrance ceremony, that’s for sure, but you kinda blend into the background.

-Besides he’s a party animal — constantly hosting these huge parties at his dorm just because he can.

-As someone trying to keep out of trouble and hide such a huge secret… yeah, parties aren’t exactly your forte.

-So, when you get roped in to coming to Scarabia over winter break, Kalim is pleasantly surprised!

-He’s always excited to make a new friend, and you’re pretty infamous around school, so he’s extra excited to get to know you.

-Kalim has no reason to question anything about you, like most other people would.

-However, he isn’t stupid. He has plenty of younger sisters, and he picks up on social queues better than you’d expect.

-He definitely suspects something is off, but he figures you would tell him if something was up. 

-You actually find him quite easy to be around. He’s someone who makes it easy to let your walls down and just relax with.

-Despite his sudden mood shifts, he always makes sure that you’re happy and healthy and doing the best you can be in your position.

-However, you run out of the magical potion that deepens your voice pretty quickly, and you have to go back to dramatically straining your voice.

-You sound sick, honestly, and it makes Kalim worry. 

-He figures that you’re forcing yourself to deepen your voice so you’re still perceived as a man.

-Instead of asking you directly, as Kalim does, he goes to Jamil.

-“Jamil…”

“What do you need, Kalim?”

“Don’t you think somethings… off with the prefect?”

“Off? What are you talking about, nothings off with them.”

“No, I mean… do you think they might be… a girl?”

“…Kalim, that’s very rude to say. You need to be more respectful.”

“…You’re right, I’m sorry. Could we get him something to soothe his voice though, it sounds rough.”

-Kalim is a lot more watchful of you after that. He just… knows something is wrong, but he doesn’t want to be rude.

-It’s actually you who comes to him when no one is around for help.

-“Kalim, uhm, I need your help.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“So, I’m pretty sure you know, but I’m not a guy… I’m a girl, and I really need help hiding it. The longer I’ve been here, the harder it’s been on me.”

-Sweetheart he is, he promises to both help you and keep your secret to himself — and he does both surprisingly well!

-He offers his private bathroom to you so you can shower in peace. 

-It’s honestly the best bath you’ve ever had with all his sweet smelling oils. Your skin feels so smooth and renewed.

-Still, even with this, you still don’t feel safe with anyone else — plus the fact that Kalim has random and horrifying mood shifts. You have to flee.

-And yet you still get dragged into more trouble with the octatrio. You still get exposed to the whole dorm by a crazed Jamil, and now have to deal with the horror that they’ll tell everyone.

-Kalim feels awful, and thus shows his forgiveness in the best way he can: giving gifts.

-You get tons of apology gifts from him in the coming months. Baskets of the best shower stuff you’ve ever had; a new, better fitted but still innocuous uniform; enough tuna to keep grim satisfied for years (and sweets that you happily keep to yourself).

-It’s so nice, but you start to feel bad. It feels like you’re taking advantage of his guilt, when you’re not really upset at anyone involved anymore.

-You’re welcome at Scarabia any time. None of his dorm members will ever cause you any trouble, and you can dress and act and sound however you want within Scarabia’s walls. 

Vil

-Miss beauty queen himself. We love Vil, we Stan Vil, we adore Vil… 

-Oh my god he’s a pain in the ass though, especially for you.

-He sees through you in an instant.

-Truly, Vil finds you to be more of a little pest than anything.

-You are constantly in trouble, you are magic less, and you decided to needlessly hide your gender.

-The last one is the worst offense in his eyes.

-Vil is someone who does not value gender, but expression. Your gender does not matter as much as your expression, therefore you hiding your expression irks him.

-He’s understanding enough in the fact that he knows you might be doing this to protect yourself, but he finds it stupid and useless, because you’re easy to see through.

-He avoids you, and you avoid him. Simple as that.

-Unfortunately for Vil, you’ve caught Rook’s eye, which means he must sit through many hours of Rook rambling on about his “findings” about you.

-When you tried out for the VDC, he was simply going to turn you and Grim away, but Rook convinced him to give you a chance.

-Rook wanted him to help your reveal your “inner beauty”, though Vil wasn’t sure if you had any of that.

-You wore baggy, horrifically ugly clothing up until winter break. Your hair was constantly a mess. Your skin was poorly taken care of, and the bags under your eyes were as dark as night.

-It almost made him feel bad for you… so despite his better judgement, he decided to invest time in you.

-Vil makes it very clear that he knows what your whole secret is.

-“I am aware of the fact that you are a woman, however, I will continue to use your preferred pronouns since it seems to bring you comfort.”

-He’s very insistent that you allow him to do your skincare AND your makeup whenever you give him the chance.

-Especially when he moves into ramshackle temporarily, he’s very insistent on maintaining your skincare routine.

-He essentially makes your entire nightly routine himself, and is right there over your shoulder making sure you do it right.

-Despite how overbearing it is, you actually make good friends with him through this.

-Being stuck alone in a room with no one but him to talk to forces you two to talk.

-You get to learn why he cares so much about appearances, and he gets to know why you hide to protect yourself.

-“It’s just… easier to pretend, because guys will bother me less that way.”

“I can’t understand why they would bother you. You’ve done nothing to them, so why would they want to do anything to you.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know either. I just know it’s scary, and I don’t want to deal with it.”

-You move him, honestly. You’re strong even though you’re scared, and that’s beautiful. Thats what true beauty is.

-He helps you embrace your inner self and express that, while still helping you to hide your gender in a way that feels safe.

-You are always welcome at Pomefiore, and you can come to either him or Rook if you have any issues at all.

-It’s like having a big sister, almost.

Idia

-Idia has eyes everywhere.

-Every inch of that campus is (illegally) being monitored by his watchful eyes. 

-When he’s bored in class, he flicks through the cameras to amuse himself — maybe he’ll see someone slip and fall on their ass. That would be funny.

-He’s not really interested in you in particular.

-In fact, he’d like to keep a very far distance between the two of you.

-You’re… intimidating. You’ve fought some of the most powerful mages on campus and won.

-Total final boss energy, not something Idia is interested in being around.

-What he IS interested in is that wittle kitty you’ve got following you around.

-When he’s bored in class, he goes searching for Grim, and where Grim is you are sure to be.

-So, despite his aversion to you, he ends up spending a lot of time watching you.

-He starts to notice… things about you.

-He notices that you seem to put on a tough guy persona around… well… other guys in your class.

-When it’s just you and Grim though? You’re the softest softie he’s ever seen.

-It’s top tier cringe watching you try to being all macho, so he much prefers your more quiet and relaxed self you show in private.

-Seriously though, you’re a TOTALLY DIFFERENT PERSON when you’re alone with certain people.

-EVEN YOUR VOICE CHANGES!!!

-It’s so uber creepy, it’s like a jumpscare every time you drop that fake deep voice.

-If he’s being real, you’ve got a pretty voice. Honestly, you’re really pretty period. Too pretty to be a guy honestly.

-…

-….

-…..HOLY SHIT!!!

-He has to check your medical files to be sure — which he obviously has access to, thanks to having access to everything Ortho has access to.

-Blah blah blah allergies, blah blah blah horrific injuries from overblots, blah blah blah- AH HAH!

-Next to gender you are listed as… transgender man.

-He doesn’t wanna be that weird transphobic incel, but from what he’s seen? He highly doubts that.

-From what he’s seen in his (invasive) watching, you’re definitely doing the troupe of hiding your gender to better fit in.

-He feels like he’s in an anime or something.

-He doesn’t really want to bother you about it — but from watching you, you seem like someone he’d really enjoy being around.

-Ortho also insists that he’d get along with you very well!

-…It’s worth a shot right.

-He tries several times to “bump” into you, which always ends in him skittering away in fear.

-He psyches himself out every time. “They wouldn’t even wanna hang out with a loser like me.” “They’re way too cool for someone as lame as me.” 

-It’s not until you invite yourself to one of tabletop club’s meetings that he’s forced to interact with you.

-He’s really banking on the fact that you’ll be too busy talking with Azul to notice him, but then Azul leaves and its just you and him.

-Him and you…

-Both of you… in total and complete silence.

-…yep… 

-“Uhm, Idia…?”

“yES!?”

“I came here cause I wanted to talk to you, sorry for being so underhanded about it, I just couldn’t get you alone without you running off.”

“AH— I mean, ahem, okay. My bad.”

-You totally cornered him like an evil villain.

-All because you wanted to… be his friend?

-Is he dreaming, going insane perhaps, did HE get isekaied into an alternate universe where he was likable???

-Nope, Ortho just talks him up a lot, and you think his hair is cool. Huh. Kinda lame compared to what he was thinking.

-You guys talk a LOT after that. You exchange numbers and you text him about all sorts of stuff — and he’s actually interested in it!

-You learn that he’s been watching you and Grim for a long time, and while you scold him.

-You think it’s pretty funny that he’s embarrassed about his love for cute things.

-“If you’ve been keeping your eye on me for so long, you must’ve figured out that I’m a girl, right?”

“Yeah, you’re not great at hiding it. That macho guy act is suuuuper lame, you look like a noob lol.”

“Hey! I’m just copying what Deuce told me to do!”

-You guys don’t really see each other face to face very often, but like I said you text a lot.

-Sometimes he’ll text you shit like ‘I saw that, saved it for blackmail.’ After you biffed your shit on the pavement or something.

-When Idia gets more comfortable, you two spend hours on call whenever you get the chance.

-He lends you some of his precious manga, and even gives you an older TV he had laying around so you can watch stuff at ramshackle.

-Sometimes he invites you over to play video games with him and Ortho, and he gets all cocky and proud when you gush about how cool all his tech is.

-And, yeah, Idia definitely forms a little crush on you — but he would do that regardless of your gender. 

-He just likes you a lot, and you can feel safe on campus knowing he’s watching over you when you need it. (Mostly watching Grim, tbh.)

Malleus

-We know that Malleus enjoys… creeping outside of Ramshackle.

-He spends quite a lot of time on your front lawn, therefore, he’s usually in proximity of you.

-However, he is very intimidating!

-As a young woman in a magical world that you are not from, a very tall man with horns is the exact opposite of what you want to be around.

-Besides, you’ve heard the rumors about him — how powerful he is, and how scary he is.

-Malleus, on the other hand, is admittedly curious about you.

-He finds humans in their own right incredibly interesting, but you are not just a regular human.

-You are a human who has no magic and is from another world entirely. 

-You are something he has never once seen in his whole life, so excuse his childish curiosity.

-Still, you’re sort of cleverly avoiding him at every chance you get, and he just can’t quite find the time to talk to you.

-Until one night, you come back rather late and you find him in your yard… again.

-You send Grim in by himself and decide to confront him by yourself, because you are tired of being afraid to fall asleep at night.

-“Hey, you, could you maybe not stare at my house in the middle of the night!”

-Oh. You are quite feisty, and very bold to approach Malleus Draconia with such an aggressive tone.

-“I’m unsure what you mean, I’m simply admiring the architecture.”

“I don’t care WHAT you’re doing, you’re freaking me out! I know you’re supposedly some big scary monster guy, but I need you to STOP being weird outside my house.”

“…My apologies…”

-Malleus is pleasantly surprised at your spunk — he’s never been spoken to like that, he’s excited by it.

-After you yell at him, you let him explain himself, and you realize he is just… really, really bad at socializing.

-He wasn’t watching you, he just really enjoys silence and ramshackle is the quietest place on campus — even with you living in it.

-So, you give him the benefit of the doubt, because he really does just seem like he’s lost on everything around him 90% of the time.

-You don’t hang out with him during the day, but if you happen to see him on your lawn (as he usually is), you go out and hang out with him for a while.

-It makes Malleus happy, because you treat him like a friend. You give him cute nicknames, and you invite him inside for snacks, and you go out of your way to say hello to him when you pass him in the halls.

-He also gets to know more about you, and his curiosities about you and your world get quelled.

-He doesn’t really question anything about you, especially not your gender.

-Gender is hardly important for fae, and you seem confident in your expression, so he has no reason to wonder. Besides, there are far more thrilling things about you than your sex.

-So, you and Malleus start to grow close. So close, in fact, that you can confidently say that he’s one of your closest friends.

-At this point, almost everyone who you want to know about your gender knows. Everyone but Malleus.

-Initially you kept it a secret because you didn’t know how good he was at not talking, but now…

-Now, well, you don’t really have a reason.

-People usually question you at this point, or at least seem suspicious, but Malleus?

-Malleus shows not a hint that he thinks something is up. It’s odd to you, isn’t he supposed to be super smart or something. Maybe he’s just too respectful.

-Regardless, you decided to talk to him about it the next time you see him staring at the gargoyles around campus.

-“Hey Tsunotaro, what’re you up to?”

“Just admiring these gargoyles here, aren’t they fascinating? They were the first few installed in the school, if my memory serves me correctly.”

“They are very cool, but could I ask you something not gargoyle related?”

“What is it, child of man?”

“You know that I’m, uhm, a girl right?”

“Oh. I did not know that, how interesting.”

-He doesn’t understand why you would hide that, but it doesn’t really perturb him that much.

-The most you got was an eyebrow raise, and then he was back to his gargoyles.

-You were pretty satisfied with that, so you figured he wouldn’t tell anyone… and then you hear him loudly talking about it with his friends in Diasomania.

-Sigh… he means well, but he just doesn’t get the social stuff.

-You’re not mad, because pretty much everyone knows at this point, but it still sucks that he’s such a loudmouth.

[holylulusworld]

Torn in two - Angstober 19

Summary: It should’ve been the happiest day of your life.

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader (platonic for now)

Warnings: heavy angst, Steve being the worst, cheating, lies, deception, sadness, arranged marriage, unrequited love

Square filled for @steverogersbingo 2023 (expired): E4: Unrequited

Square filled for @steverogersbingo 2024: D3: Crime/Mafia

Trope: angst

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Should’ve. Could’ve. Would’ve. You never understood the meaning of the song until today. What a difference a day can make, huh?

Not hours ago, you twirled in your white wedding gown, giggling like a schoolgirl because you were about to marry the man you loved and adored for so long.

Everything seemed perfect. Your wedding gown. The ceremony. Your husband. For a moment, you believed you’d get your happily ever after.

That was, of course, until you discovered the truth behind his commitment. Not love and devotion but greed and power hunger were the reasons for his proposal.

One day earlier, after your wedding ceremony, …

You smile as Steve holds your hand tightly. Even though your marriage was arranged by your father, Steve promised you could make it work. You never doubted that your marriage would be anything but happy. For years, you have been hopelessly devoted to Steve, and your heart only ever belonged to him.

He was the one who needed time to confess his love to you. Your father doesn’t need to know that you would’ve married Steve with or without his involvement.

“My love,” Steve whispers lowly, “we should welcome our guests at the party. How about you greet your friends? I’ll talk to Sam and James.”

You nod, but hat that Steve lets go of your hand to walk toward his friends. Sighing, you look around the crowded room.

While you walk around the crowded room to greet your guests, chatting with them, Steve, Sam, and Bucky leave the room to talk in private.

You frown. Why would your groom leave his party to talk to his friend? He can talk to them any other day.

Curiosity is getting the best out of you. Before one of the guests can stop you from sneaking out of the ballroom too, you excuse yourself, lying about using the bathroom.

“You must be all over the moon." Bucky can’t hide the jealousy written all over his face. Steve Rogers, the golden boy, always seems to get the best in life. “You’ve got this pretty wife, and to spend a honeymoon with her on an exotic island.”

Steve huffs. “If only you knew.”

“What do you mean?” Sam furrows his brows. He believed his friend got his happily ever after only for Steve to look like someone kicked him in the guts. “You do not look happy for a newlywed.”

“I’d look happier if my bride was Peggy, not that spoiled brat.”

Bucky cocks his head at Steve’s words. He didn’t expect his friend to talk like this about you. “What the fuck, Steve! You just married the woman. She’s sweet and pretty. I’d kill to get a wife like that!”

“Well then, take her,” Steve spats. “I never wanted to marry her.”

“Steve, are you drunk?” Bucky grabs Steve’s upper arms, shaking him lightly. “Because if you’re not, I gotta punch the stupidity out of you.”

“Her father wanted this bond, okay? If I want to take over his empire one day, I must give him an heir. I agreed. Y/N isn’t Peggy, but she will do. After her father retires, I can divorce her and marry someone else.”

Sam’s eyes widen. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. The business is not new to him, but hearing Steve talk so lowly about you makes him sick.

“I got to go.” Sam turns on his heels and storms off, not looking back.

“Punk, you can’t be serious." Bucky looks his friend in the eyes. “Please tell me you tried to be funny, and we can laugh about your not-funny joke.”

Unbeknownst to the friends, you stand a few feet away, clasping one hand over your mouth. Hot tears spill from your eyes as you try to fathom what you just witnessed.

You put a brave face on and hold your head high. This is your wedding, and you won’t let anyone see how torn your heart truly is.

After hearing the truth and crying for half an hour in the bathroom, you freshened up your makeup and decided not to give anyone at the ballroom the satisfaction of laughing about your predicament.

Even if you despise Steve now, you let him ask you for the first dance as husband and wife. You don’t look him in the eyes; instead, you look around the room, finding a similar pair of blue eyes.

Bucky watches your lips wobble, and a single tear runs down your cheek. His stomach drops because he can see you trying so hard to not show the hurt.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Steve lies through his teeth. You can see it in his eyes when you look up at him. “I like the gown.”

“Sure,” you reply with venom in your voice. “How about you dance with Peggy next, because she will be the second Mrs. Rogers, won’t she?”

He looks like someone slapped him across the face, and for the first time since he broke your heart, you smile.

“What? Got nothing to say, Steve?” You huff. “Oh, I forgot. You discuss your betrayal only in private with your buddies.”

Dropping his hand, you step away from Steve and size him up before you leave the ballroom, excusing yourself.

Now, ...

Half of town was looking for you. After you ran from the party, you were nowhere to be seen for a day. I felt like the ground opened and swallowed you whole.

That night, you should have laid in Steve’s arms; instead, you were sitting at your old apartment, crying yourself to sleep because he didn’t even try to find you. You left your phone on, and he knew where you were living.

Steve simply didn’t care enough to look for his missing wife. Maybe he even spent the night with his former lover, Peggy Carter. The woman he wanted to marry instead of you.

You can’t blame him, though. Your father loves to make promises he doesn’t intend to keep. He promised to never use you as a pawn in his business. But here you are, sitting in your wedding gown, with messed-up makeup and a broken heart.

“Doll?” Bucky sighs because he finally found you. He didn’t believe you had come to your old apartment. It’s empty except for the old armchair Steve hated and didn’t want to keep. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” you reply.

“You heard—” Bucky bites his tongue when you sniffle. “Hey, I’m sorry. Maybe Steve didn’t mean it that way. He gets a little intense sometimes.”

“I don’t think so,” you snap at Bucky. “He said loud and clearly that he wants to marry Peggy Carter after he took over my father’s empire.”

You angrily wipe the tears off your cheeks. “There is nothing to get wrong, James. Steve hates me. He lied for months. He never loved me. He'll never love me. I thought—"You look at Bucky with tear-clouded eyes.“ I waited for him, James. All those years I waited for him to see me, and when he did, I was the happiest.

“Oh,” Bucky nods, understanding your feelings very well. He has been waiting for someone to require his feelings for years, too. Only for you to marry his best friend.

“I was a fool to believe Steve Rogers could ever love me.” You raise your hands and drop them again. “How could he? I’m nothing like Peggy. She was all a man could ever want.”

“Doll,” he steps closer to crouch down next to the old armchair you’re sitting in. “What are you going to do now?”

You dip your head to look at Bucky. “I’ll get my life back. My father, Steve, and everyone else in my life always told me what to do. It’s time to stand up for myself. Don’t you think?”

Tags in reblog.

[sammyluvr]

something about being close — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, angst, fluff, sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n, 9.5K words. requested !

summary : sam's being overprotective of you, and it leads to an argument and something more.

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket. 

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger’s seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years. 

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.” 

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours. 

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have. 

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up. 

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch. 

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed. 

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel. 

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat. 

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand. 

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love. 

but you still don’t quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips. 

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn’t seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap. 

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth. 

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible. 

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

[doctorbitchcrxft]

The Usual Suspects | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? )

Warnings: creepy police officer (not that that differs from real life), canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 3242

A/N: Ooh damn, this one was interesting to write. I tried the best I could to make this as coherent as possible. Y’all enjoy! Also, this'll be another creature-double-feature Saturday to make up for the short chapter! Love you, my darlings!

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Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

“I don’t wanna have to keep asking this, kid. Who are you?” the man who’d been interrogating you asked. He was a member of the Baltimore police department: Peter Sheridan. He’d been a complete dick to you thus far after arresting you in the boys’ motel room with Sam. 

“I told you, Ann Wilson,” you replied. 

He chuckled humorlessly. “Listen, dollface—” he leaned across the table creepily, and you fought the urge to recoil under his predatory gaze, “—I’m done playing with you. You were found with Sam and Dean Winchester; one of which was supposed to be dead. They’ve got some pretty serious charges stacked up against them, and you, by proxy. Credit card fraud, breaking and entering, and this one… puzzled me. Grave desecration.

"But still, these are a long way from murder. Then, we get a fax from St. Louis. Where Dean’s suspected of torturing and murdering a young woman.” He got up from his chair and began pacing. “However, no one could prove anything, of course, because supposedly he died there. So now we know Karen Giles wasn't the first person he murdered. And what about Sam? He was pre-law before dropping out after the death of his girlfriend. He’s twenty three years old, no job, no home address. His mother died when he was a baby; his father's whereabouts are unknown. And then there's you.”

“Can you cut the monologuing, man? It’s really starting to get on my nerves,” you replied. You had been sitting back in your chair with your arms and legs crossed confidently the whole time he spoke despite the anxiety you had given your situation.

He slammed his hands down on the table; you didn’t even flinch. “Who the hell are you? And how are you connected to the Winchester brothers?”

You sucked in air through your teeth and relaxed back in your chair. “Seems you got nothin’ on me. You can’t really hold me if you can’t even pin down who I am.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I do have you on one thing— over a dozen possible matches when we ran your prints.”

You tsked, cutting your eyes at him challengingly. “Possible. You can’t hold me on possible.”

“But I can hold you for forty-eight hours under suspicion of accomplice to murder,” he responded. “So you might as well start talking.”

You scoffed, sitting back in your chair.

“Sweetheart—” you nearly punched him when he called you that name, “—Dean’s life is over. Sam’s probably is, too. Yours doesn’t have to be. If you tell me who you are— maybe a bit about your place in all this— maybe I can get you a deal with the DA. We can look into your history, check your record; see how well you clean up. How does that sound?”

You considered for a moment before talking, repeating the story you and the brothers had discussed before your arrests in case you got caught. You had one of these stories for every case you’d ever worked on with them. “Sam and Dean’s dad knew Tony Giles. They were old friends; in the service together and everything. So we showed up as soon as we heard about his passing.”

Obviously, none of that was true. You and the brothers had found a story about a man’s throat that had been slit in the papers and headed up to investigate. 

You continued your story. “Woulda been kinda hard for Dean to kill Tony, considering we weren't in town at the time. Anyway, that’s when we went to see Karen. She was… she wasn’t doin’ well. We just wanted to be there for her.”

Karen was Anthony Giles’s wife, and you’d gone to see her to get information. She said he’d told her there was a woman standing at the foot of their bed the night before he passed away, and she'd been bleeding from the neck.

“And that was it. End of story,” you said.

“No, it’s not,” Sheridan pressed. “We have an eyewitness who said they saw two men and a woman fitting your description breaking into Giles’s office.”

“Karen just wanted us to get some old photos, okay? Police weren’t letting her in. I know it was wrong to break in, but she gave us the key,” you lied flawlessly.

In actuality, that was where you’d found a stack of papers littered with “danashulps” written over and over again on the tray of the man’s printer. The poor guy’s throat had been slit so deep, part of his spinal cord had been severed. Your working theory was that a Dana Shulps had died with her throat slit, and now she was back to wreak havoc. However, you found no evidence of any person by that name. So, you were back to square one. 

“Dean went back to Karen’s place to check on her and bring her those pictures and stuff,” you explained.

“Hm, and why didn’t you or Sam go with him?” Sheridan responded.

“We just went back to the motel,” you shrugged. “How’d you know we were there, by the way?”

“Why would I tell you?” he snapped.

“Whoa, pump the hate brakes, Biff,” you remarked, “I was just asking a question.”

“Don’t get cute with me, dollface. Now, you were with both brothers the whole time you were in Baltimore. Why separate now? Because Dean left you. To go murder Karen.”

You tried to seem unfazed, but your jaw clenched in anger. “He didn’t kill anyone.”

He slammed his fists on the table. “I heard the 9-1-1 call! Karen was terrified. She said someone was in the house.”

“Well, whoever it was, it wasn’t Dean,” you said. You stared him down. “Let me ask you something, babe. Do you have a murder weapon? Do you have a motive?” 

He seemed to have no response.

“That’s what I thought. Come back to me when you have something interesting to say.”

He angrily stormed out of the room, and your lips twisted up into a satisfied smirk.

***

You sat alone in your room, repeating “Dana Shulps” to yourself on a loop. You suddenly got an idea. ‘Maybe it’s not a name.’ You reached across the table and pulled a pen and paper pad toward you. You wrote several combinations of anagrams as to what it could possibly be. The only plausible thing you came up with was “ASHLAND SUP.” ‘But what would the S-U-P be? Ashland… a city? A town? …A street?’

***

You listened carefully to the commotion going on beyond the wall of your room. There was no two-way mirror, and from what you could tell, no camera nearby. You listened as footsteps hurriedly crossed in front of your room heading to the left and then growing quieter. You gathered your courage and took that opportunity to make your escape. Quickly, you opened the window and climbed out onto the outside of the building. Looking down below, it was almost a four-story drop. However, you knew you could make your way to the fire escape a few window sills over if you were careful enough. 

You clung to the wall, nervously, careful not to look down or move too quickly when the wind picked up. Thankfully, you made it to the fire escape safely and headed down as fast as you could. You weren’t sure if Sam or Dean had escaped, but you decided to try the trick they taught you to find each other: searching for Jim Rockford in the guest list of the first motel that appeared in the yellowpages. Thankfully, when you did, you found a Jim Rockford. You quickly made your way over to said motel and broke into the room. Sam had his gun drawn on you when you opened it.

“(Y/N)! Don’t scare me like that!” he huffed, putting the gun down.

You grinned and ran over to him. He scooped you up in a hug.

“I’m so glad to see you,” you told him. “What are we gonna do about Dean?”

He sighed. “I don't know, honestly. He’ll figure something out. For now, let’s focus on this ghost, huh?”

“I’m guessing you figured out it was an anagram, too, right?” you asked.

“Duh,” he grinned. 

“How’d Dean give you the cue to escape?” You sat down at the table across from him. 

“Got our lawyer to give me a note. Called me Hilts on it,” he smirked back.

You laughed. “The Great Escape? Nice.”

“I gotta say, man, I’m worried,” Sam told you. 

“Why?” 

“I’m guessing they read you the charges,” he replied. 

You nodded.

The brunet sighed and ran a hand down his face. “This is bad, (Y/N/N)."

“Yeah, I know.” You stared down at the table in front of you and bit the inside of your cheek nervously. 

Sam huffed and tried to remain cheerful, changing the subject. “So, what are we thinkin’? Ashland��s a street, but what’s S-U-P?”

You shook your head. “I’m not sure. Initials, maybe?”

“Sounds like a good enough place to start to me,” Sam grinned.

The two of you began pouring through online resources to see if anyone had died ugly on Ashland Street.

“Dude, how’d you get all these files, by the way?” you asked Sam, referencing the many manila folders and photos laid neatly on the table between yours and Sam’s laptops. 

Suddenly, a knock was heard on the door. You looked through the peephole to see a frightened woman in her mid-forties, and you opened it to her. 

“Wait, (Y/N)—” Sam stood upon seeing her, and you put two and two together that she was probably a cop at Sam's end of the case. The woman shrugged and entered the room. She showed Sam her wrists which were lined with a ring of bruises. She explained to you that she had seen the same ghost Karen described seeing and that she saw “DANASHULPS” appear on the mirror in the bathroom at the same time the lesions appeared around her wrists. 

“These showed up after you saw it?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” the woman responded. “You know, I must be losing my mind. You're a fugitive. So is she.” She gestured to you. “I should be arresting you.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” you questioned pointedly.

“Diana Ballard, Baltimore P.D.,” she said. “And… what was your name?”

You snickered. “You’re not getting that out of me that easily. Hey, do me a favor, look through these for us.”

“Why would I do that?” She suddenly seemed to register what she was looking at. “How'd you get those? Those are from crime scenes, and booking photos.”

Sam chuckled. “You have your job, we have ours. Tell me if you recognize anyone.”

She flipped through the stack and stopped on the photo of a drugged-out-looking blonde woman. She stopped on it and held it up. “This is her. I'm sure of it.”

“Claire Becker,” you nodded. “Twenty-eight; disappeared about nine months ago.”

“But I don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?” Diana asked.

“Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?” Sam replied.

“Yeah, Pete and I did. Before homicide,” the detective answered.

“You ever bust her?”

“Not that I remember.”

“It says she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place and didn’t find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves,” you added.

“Why would we do that?” Diana asked.

“See if we can find her body,” Sam explained. “We gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest.”

Diana rolled her eyes. “Of course it is.”

***

Turns out, poor Claire’s body had been hidden right where the moon shone through the window of 2911 Ashland Street labeled “Ashland Sup.”

Diana noticed the necklace on the corpse and touched it cautiously.

“That mean something to you?” Sam asked.

You could see she was beginning to get angry. “I've seen it before. It's rare. It was custom made over on Carson street.” She pulled out the necklace from her shirt and showed it to you and Sam. “I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me.”

“That son of a bitch,” you murmured. 

“Now it all makes perfect sense,” Sam began.

“I'm sorry?” Diana scoffed.

He nodded, explaining, “Yeah. You see, Claire is not a vengeful spirit, she's a death omen.”

“Claire's not killing anyone,” you chimed in. “She's trying to warn them. You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is.” You turned to Diana. “Detective, how much do you know about your partner?”

She thought for a moment before breathing out, “Oh my god. About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product.”

Sam huffed. “Someone like a heroin dealer. Somebody like Claire.”

“C’mon, we gotta find him before he kills somebody else,” you said.

*** Claire drove you and Sam on the route to the police station to confront Sheridan. She snapped her phone shut and huffed in annoyance.

“What?” you asked.

“Pete just left the precinct. With Dean,” she replied.

“What?!” you and Sam stiffened in your seats.

“He said the prisoner had to be transferred, and he just took him. Dispatch has been calling but he won't answer the radio,” she said.

“Radio? He took a county vehicle?” Sam questioned. 

She nodded. 

“Well, then they should have a lo-jack, you've just gotta get it turned on,” he noted. 

Somehow, Sam managed to track down the vehicle Sheridan had taken. You arrived just in time to see him aiming a gun at Dean who was kneeling on the ground behind the van.

“Wait! Wait,” Dean pleaded. “Let's, let's talk about this. I mean, you don't want to do something that you're gonna regret later.” His voice became louder as you got closer.

You drew Diana’s gun from her holster and aimed it at Sheridan. “Drop the gun!”

Sheridan turned his gun on you. “You!”

You cocked the gun. “Me,” you smirked.

Sheridan suddenly seemed to notice his partner. “Diana? How'd you find me?”

“I know about Claire,” she said evenly.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Put the fucking gun down!” you ordered.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Sheridan scowled. “You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster.”

“Why are you doing this?” Diana interrogated.

“I didn't do anything, Diana,” he said. “It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice.”

“And Tony? Karen?” Diana pressed.

“Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything. It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked.” Sheridan’s sorry attempt at emotionally relaying his story was enough to induce an eye roll from you.

“How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?” Diana asked dejectedly. 

“There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just one more dead scumbag,” Sheridan chuckled coldly.

“Hey!” you barked. 

“No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you,” he told her, faltering slightly as he looked at his partner. Dean rolled out of the way, and you took the opportunity to fire and hit Sheridan in the stomach. 

Diana didn’t even flinch at you shooting Sheridan. “Then why don't you buy me another necklace, you ass?”

You kept the gun trained on Sheridan as you rushed to Dean’s side, crouching in front of his slumped-over form protectively. You tried to get a lock on Sheridan, but he and Diana were fighting too erratically for you to be able to get a clear shot. At some point, Sheridan lost his gun, and Sam went to go for it.

Pete grabbed it before Sam could, shouting, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it.” He rose from the ground and kept the gun trained on Sam as he backed away.

You stared past Sheridan to see Claire having appeared behind him, grinning ear to ear. You tossed Diana her gun as Sheridan turned around, and she shot her former partner in the back. He fell to the ground, much more permanently this time.

You turned your focus to Dean. You got the keys to his handcuffs from Diana and helped him out of them.

“Thanks,” Dean smiled.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” you asked, putting your hands on either side of his face and looking him over.

He grabbed your wrist gently. “Relax, sweetheart, I’m fine.”

You nodded before throwing yourself into his arms. He hesitated in what you assumed was surprise but hugged you back tightly. You let go of him as the morning sun began to hit your eyes. You looked over to Diana who was crouched over the body of her ex-partner.

“You doin' alright?” Sam asked her.

She shook her head. “Not really.” She swallowed, her breath coming out unevenly despite the fact that she tried to hold her composure. “The death omen, Claire— what happens to her now?”

The brunet shrugged. “Should be over. She should be at rest.”

Dean brushed his hands off on his jeans as he stood next to his brother. “So, uh. What now, officer?”

“Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally. I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed,” she replied.

“You’d take care of that for us?” Sam questioned.

“I hope so,” Diana said. “But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you. Unless—” your and the boys’ heads perked up at her slight change in tone, “I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, are you sure?”

Dean pointedly looked at his brother. “Yeah, she's sure, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “No, it's just, I mean, you could lose your job over something like that.”

“Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night.” She turned to go. “Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for all of you right now. Get out of here. I gotta radio this in.”

“Hey, uh, you wouldn't happen to know where my car is, by chance?” Dean asked her.

“It's at the impound yard down on Robertson.” She noticed Dean’s calculating look. “Don't... even think about it.”

“It's okay, it's alright, don't worry,” Sam chuckled. “We'll, uh, we'll just improvise. I mean, we're pretty good at that.”

Diana nodded. “Yeah. I've noticed.”

You and the brothers began to walk down the road. 

“Nice lady,” Sam commented.

“Yeah, for a cop. Did she look familiar to you?” Dean turned to you.

“Yeah, actually. I don’t know where from, though,” you answered.

“Yeah, me neither. Anyway, you guys hungry?”

You nodded, but Sam shook his head.

“For some reason, I could really go for some pea soup,” Dean said.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

This doesn’t get a title because I’m confused

Disclaimers: The only character I own is the reader insert!

Author’s Notes: I think I got possessed, I don’t even like Sam 😭 like in the slightest 😭

But pretend season 8ish Sam has season 2-3’s hair for the sake of that’s the season I’m on lol.

Icons by @gosling-girlx !! She’s a genius!

Anyway, all notes are appreciated!

Content/Content Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Minors do not interact, this is NOT for you.

This fic is extremely spicy, sort of can’t-stand-each-other sex. Reader’s AFAB & uses she/her pronouns, only physical description is of her being shorter than Sam. There’s oral (both m and f receiving) and unprotected piv which frankly only exists in the books- wrap it before you tap it!! Oh also they’re both pretty mean to each other… you’ll see.

Again, I think I got possessed when I made it-I sincerely can’t stand him- but hope you enjoy it!

**************************************************** Working with the Winchester Brothers is a gig like no other. Cas and I are more tagalongs in the operation these days, Cas demoted to resident healer and I to stay at home mom, apparently.

One accident (authors note: one possession & a year long recovery for a spinal injury retained from said possession) had apparently rendered me useless to the boys. It’s not all bad- I’m relatively close with the older one, Dean, since we’re both hoes for a good time and good movies/music. And before the accident, I was happy to kill evil sons-of-bitches with Dean any day of the week.

And of course, Castiel is a right sweetheart- showing him new human things is the sweetest experience in the whole wide world.

But you know what ruins the laughs and the nice moments? The younger brother. Sam “Little Shit” Winchester.

I don’t know how he found himself upon the moral pedestal he crafted for himself, but lord I want to remove his kneecaps and slap him with them. Little baby giraffe looking shit.

I don’t like the way he acts, plain and simple. Between the way that he treats Dean and the way that he talks so condescendingly to me- I’m about two seconds from starting a fight every time we’re in a room together for too long. He seems to feel the same way. It’s helpful in a hunt- both of us are smart enough to concentrate that anger towards our monster of the week instead of each other in the field- but now, when there’s no field to take the anger out on? Dean’s had to break up at least 3 almost-fights, and I’ve only been back on my feet for a couple months.

***

The boys looked especially pissy coming home today- they’d grumbled something about a “stupid fucking vampire bitch,” and went their separate ways, Sam to the med bay and Cas trailing Dean like a golden retriever.

Great. Looks like I’m on Douchebag Duty.

***

“What’s your problem?” Sam snaps as I tug the thread on his stitches a little too roughly.

“My problem, you dick? I’m the one that’s stitching you up right now, why don’t I just let you bleed out?” I retort, yanking on the surgical needle with the string attached to a particularly nasty cut on his upper arm. Cut’s an understatement- it’s really a bullet wound. I’m just too proud to have pity for the jackass.

“Yeah, your problem!”

I set down the needle at that, my fists clenched at my sides. “You’re a whiny little bitch who can’t sit still and shut the fuck up for two minutes! That’s my problem.”

“I think you’re a little too high and mighty there, princess,” he scowls, standing up to full height, presumably so that he can use his stature to literally look down at me.

“Yeah? Look who’s talking, Mr Morals,” I seethe, staring up at him. I snatch the needle, on my tiptoes, and hastily finish the stitching on his scar, while standing up.

“Out,” I spit as I cut the thread.

“No,” he retorts, glancing down at me through long lashes and stupidly overgrown bangs.

“What? Is five minutes away from your big head too much to ask?” my hands are on my hips. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of staring up at him, so I stare at whatever’s eye level. He’s wearing a bloodied white tank top, which is not doing much for the whole vibe we’ve got going on right now.

He bites his lower lip, still looking down through his annoyingly long lashes. And my dumb ass is attracted to it, apparently.

“Get. Out,” I say, anger laced in my words.

“No,” he says through clenched teeth. I start to turn away, as if giving up, before pulling a Dean Winchester and turning back around on my heel, punching him in the abdomen. He grunts, keeling over. “Ow!”

“You should’ve listened, you ass,” I say, looking down at him. He looks pathetic, his eyes gone wide and pretty in pain. I shouldn’t be into this, not one bit.

Keeled over, Sam is at eye level. Our gazes lock, his hazel eyes boring holes into mine, searching for something. I don’t dare waver, looking back at him with just as much intensity until he surprises me, leaning in and crashing his lips to mine. He roughly grabs my face, holding me close as he forces his tongue into my mouth, exploring. I hate how easily I give him access, I hate the way I let out a gasp against my will. By the time he pulls away I’m already leaning back in. He smirks, humoring me for one more kiss.

“How do you like me now?” he says cockily, lips plush and pink from the kisses, hazel eyes blown out by lust.

“I don’t,” I mutter, pushing him back so that he’s forced to sit on the med bay bed. His legs are spread wide, and of course I fit perfectly between them, much to my distaste. I kiss his jawline, using mostly my teeth so that it scratches as I go, especially once I start on his neck, biting and sucking dark marks everywhere I see fit. He’s into it, little breathy whimpers further fueling my unfortunate attraction to him.

“Take off your shirt,” I tell him, stepping back and smirking at how this time he leans into my touch instead of the other way around. He thoughtlessly pulls the hem of the ruined fabric over his head, throwing it to the side, exposing an obnoxiously fit physique and an anti possession tattoo. There’s little scars everywhere, and something deep down urges me to kiss every single one of them, but that can be later.

“Take off yours,” he tells me.

“Why?” I ask, trying to play smart.

“Cause if I have to be shirtless you do too,” he says.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Better think of a better retort next time, Winchester,” I say as I take off the oversized concert tee I had been wearing.

“Bra too,” he orders, cocking his head to the side as he looks me over.

“Who made you the boss?” I ask, already unclasping my bra.

“I did,” he says, far too cocksure.

“We’ll see about that,” I grin, letting the lacy fabric fall to the ground as I lean in to kiss his damnable hot mouth. This time I take control, taking pride in the little noises he makes.

“I’m gonna suck your dick,” I say crudely, not bothering with pleasantries.

“Go right on ahead,” and I can tell there was meant to be spite behind those words, but it quickly fades away into sighs as I start kissing down his pecs, his abs, lightly scratching anywhere I can find with my nails. I hate how hot the heat between my thighs is, but at this point, I can’t help it, especially as I sink to my knees, nose perfectly level with his crotch.

I take his belt into my hands, grazing over the obvious tent that lies underneath it. He throws his head back at that, biting back a curse.

“What’s the matter Sammy?” I tease.

“Shut up,” he grumble, words morphing into a proper moan as I graze over the tent again.

“Uh huh,” I agree, tugging off his leather belt and yanking down the zipper of his jeans.

“Boxers? I had taken you for a ‘Tighty Whities’ girl, Sammy,” I mused, doing my best to work him up even more.

“Sto-,” he starts, immediately losing his words as I free his cock from his confines, pulling his boxers down to his knees.

You know, just cause a guy’s a big guy doesn’t always mean that everything’s proportionate. Sam’s six foot five-ish, long and lanky with lean muscle. And naturally, because everything about him is meant to spite me, his dick also fits the physical bill. My mouth waters, and the only prospect that excites my overly-horny self more than having it in my mouth is having it in my slick soaked pussy. And I will, if I have anything to say about it.

“Oh Sammy, you’re a big boy, huh,” I taunt, running a hand up and down his shaft slowly. He moans in agreement, no more fight left in him. It’s too easy.

I let go of it, ignoring the bead of pre cum leaking down as I move to kiss his thighs, grazing my teeth on them like I did on his neck. He seems to like it, legs moving in towards my mouth. Finally I move my mouth towards where he obviously wants me most, rubbing the bead over his tip with my thumb. I’m a little wary about taking the whole thing, but I’m sure as hell going to try.

I start simple, kitten lips around the base, licking a long stripe up the underside before wrapping my lips around the head, and he moans, a little too loudly. I brace my hands on his thighs before taking a deep breath through my nose and forcing myself down far enough that my nose is touching neatly trimmed hair. Thankfully my gag reflex is still gone-it’s been a minute- as I hold him there for a moment, before starting to bob my head up and down, testing the waters. He whimpers and whines, and it’s pathetic, and I’m far too into it, unable to do much else than keep up my ministrations.

One of his big hands find the back of my head, fingers weaving into my hair. I don’t think he does so with intent of forcing me to move, but the idea is so hot that I lock eyes with him with my mouth on his cock.

“What? You want me to fuck your mouth?” he asks, panting. And once he says it out loud I get impossibly wetter, and I moan yes, unable to nod at all with him buried as far as he’ll go.

“Damn, you’re a slut,” he grins, and I moan in agreement before he starts moving my head slowly. Forward and back, forward and back, before I lock eyes with him and he gets the hint to take it harder, hips starting to thrust meeting my throat as his hands push. I just keep sucking, doing my best not to choke as involuntary tears leak out. But it doesn’t hurt, not at all. If anything I’m just doing all I can to not start rubbing on my own sensitive spots.

Before I know it his whimpers get louder and his whines get needier, and he grits out “I- I’m going to-“

So I release him with a pop, taking a hand and rubbing up and down his length furiously before he bursts. Once he does, with the most pathetic whimper yet, I get my mouth right back on him, taking every drop of his hot release down my throat. When he’s done I stay there, opening his mouth so he can see that there’s nothing there.

“God, you’re such a slut,” he mutters, echoing what he said before as he catches his breath and pulls me up by the hair- gently.

I shrug cockily, moving back as he stands up.

“Strip and have a seat,” he lazily demands as he puts his perfect cock away.

I roll my eyes but comply, taking off my remaining clothes so that I’m left in all my glory.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that?” he compliments, a moment of tenderness as he crowds me against the bed so that I’ll take a seat. I blush, letting him hoist me up so that my ass is on the edge of the dinghy bed. “My turn,” he grumbles, voice low and hot against the column of my neck. He’s even rougher than I was, nipping at every square inch of skin that he meets, sucking dark marks down the side of my neck and over the tops of my breasts. I’m like a bitch in heat, responding to every touch in ways I can’t control- pornographic moans, leaning into his touch. He’s pulling on my hair to give himself more access, and I’m starting to worry that I’m soaking the bed. His mouth continues to work wonders, especially as he travels southwards, playing with my breasts.

He’s mean, outright biting the one and pinching the other, and it’s just what I need. I tangle my hands into his annoyingly long hair and tugging, not missing the way he moans into my chest.

Finally, finally, he gets down on his knees. He rests his chin on the bed, breath heavy on my heat. The sight of his head pillowed on my thighs as he looks up at me with those puppy dog, blown out eyes is enough to get me to come on the spot.

“This all f’me, princess?” he asks roughly, collecting some of the gratuitous wetness on two long, thick fingers.

“N-no,” I stammer, clutching his hair tighter. He bites back his moan in favor of a smug grin.

“N-no,” he mocks, turning to the side to bite the inside of my thigh, and I whine. “Uh huh, that’s what I thought.” His nose is eye level with my clit, and the only warning I get before he dives into my pussy is a small smirk that meets his hazel eyes.

“Fuck!”

He moans in between my thighs, setting my entire body on fire. I try to wiggle away from him, but it only takes one big, strong hand to hold my hips in place as he fucks his tongue into me, his nose rubbing on my puffy clit. It’s wet and it’s gross, but so, so hot.

He’s a little too good, knowing all the buttons to press that leave me tracking wetness all over his face, before taking two fingers and roughly pushing them into my core, giving me no time to adjust. They’re thick and long, and when he makes the come hither motion I know I’m fucked, doing everything I can not to gasp his name.

“S-s-oh my god,” I cry as he plunges his fingers all the way down to the knuckle every time, reaching deeper and deeper and rubbing on my g-spot. He’s too busy sucking on my clit to say anything, his attention overstimulating.

He adds a third finger, and that, combined with him tracing patterns on my sensitive bud, sends me straight over the edge with a an unintelligible cry.

Of course the bastard doesn’t stop, not until I’m physically shaking from the overstimulation, legs quivering, and on the brink of a second release.

He removes himself from my heat, laying his cheek on the inside of my thigh, looking up at me smugly.

“Good, huh?” he knows it was.

“Fuck you,” I mutter, voice weak.

“That’s what I’m getting to, princess. So impatient,” he taunts, standing up to full height again. Sam haphazardly wipes the slick off of his face with his forearm, not really caring how much he removes. He kicks off his shoes and socks before taking off his slacks and boxers in one go, revealing that gorgeous cock again. He stands before me, looking like some kinda statue of physical perfection. I have to physically close my jaw looking at him.

“Like what you see, princess?”

I stick out my tongue and blow a raspberry.

“Real mature, sweetheart,” he rolls his eyes. “You have a condom?”

I shake my head. “Don’t need one, I’m on the pill and I have morning after. Want you to fuck me and fill me,” I tell him honestly.

“God you’re a slut and you’re freaky? I’d never have guessed,” he mused, stepping between my thighs. I assume he’s clean as well since he doesn’t really… get out much.

“Yeah, that’s cause you’re not the brightest,” I tell him, scooting as close to the edge as I can without falling.

“Uh huh,” he says sarcastically, before picking me up and slamming my shoulder into a nearby wall, yet gently resting my back against it. Gentle with my injury, wow. Wouldn’t have expected it. I gasp, surprised by the sudden motion.

“Payback for the gut punch,” he explains.

“Oh yeah? I’ll punch you again if you don’t fuck me,” I say, a mean edge to my voice.

“Mkay,” he says, obviously not swaying either way as he aligns his tip with my entrance.

“Fuck me,” I order through a gasp, unable to wait anymore.

“Careful what you wish for there, princess,” he warns, before sheathing himself in me in one go.

Look, I can get laid whenever I want, especially back when I was on duty as a hunter. I’m no stranger to sex, and I have a decently high sex drive. If I can’t get some, then I always have backup- toys and vibrators, you name it.

But Sam? His dick was big in my mouth, but in my pussy? I feel like I’ve been split in two, my mouth is dropped in an o. But it feels so, so good.

“Move,” I demand after a few moments of adjusting.

“Say my name,” he cocks his head, pushing impossibly deeper so that he’s practically touching my cervix.

“Sammy,” I say with as much sass as I can muster, my voice high from the added pressure. I know he hates the nickname, it makes him feel like a baby. Because he is one.

“Nuh uh, princess. Say my name,” the pad of his thumb flits over my clit.

“Unh- Sam!” I moan, unable to stop myself.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Now ask me to fuck you. Nicely.”

“No.”

“Guess I’ll be on my way then,” he starts pulling out.

“No!” I whine.

“Ask nicely.”

“Sam, fuck me please?” I ask with as much sweetness and doe eyes as possible for me.

“You really are sweet when you’re horny,” he remarks, pulling back, before setting a brutal pace that has me raking my nails across his back and moaning his stupid name. He’s pounding into me with all of his might, sweat sheening on his brow.

It’s so hard that I can barely get any words out, and I hate it, but it just feels too good.

And of course, Sammy has enough words for the both of us.

“Fucking you dumb, huh? Got such a big attitude until I’m in you, just needed this dick,” he says, laughing meanly as I involuntarily clench at his words.

“What? You like me being mean to you? You get wet every time we fight?” a particularly hard set of thrusts accompanies each of the words in his third rhetorical question. I moan, not even sure of the answer. Probably? Maybe? Gah.

“Look at you, taking it like a good slut. You’re so tight and wet, and it’s all f’me,” his raspy voice starts slurring with lust. He brings one of his hands between us, finding my swollen clit and rutting on it, tracing patterns just as he did before with his tongue.

“S-Sam, it’s too much-,” I cry, unable to handle the overstimulation.

“Good,” he grins wickedly, before upping the ante both in thrusts and in rutting, unraveling me into a mess in his arms. I cry his name, helpless as I come down for the second time.

“So soon?” he tuts, not slowing his pace.

“Sh-shut up- ah-,” is all I can say as he gets impossibly rougher, chasing his own release.

“Gotta finish the job, princess,” he stutters, before growing more and more erratic. He’s got me on edge again as he does so, but mercifully comes before I can. I feel his hot release in me, filling me up just a little too full with his dick that he hasn’t yet pulled out.

Eventually he wordlessly puts me down, fingers plugging our mixed release in me. I can’t even complain- him keeping me full is unfortunately kinda hot.

“So…” he starts, looking down at me.

“Get out,” I interrupt.

“No,” he says, not moving.

This is going to be a long afternoon.

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

“Did you guys finally get into a bout?” Dean asks as we walk (re: stumble) out of the med bay and into the kitchen where he and Cas are sitting playing Uno, Bon Jovi playing in the background. “Oh- oh.”

Yeah, it’s pretty obvious the fight we got into. There’s no hiding it, even if we had tidied up our hair or faces- there’s scratches and bruises everywhere. Whoops.

“Are you guys in need of healing?” Cas asks innocently as Sam and I sit down a chair apart.

“No, Cas… these are, uh, special bruises. The fun kind. And they’re everywhere, apparently… damn, Sammy.” Dean comments as he surveys his brother and I. Sam coughs, and I reach over to punch him from my seat away. He grunts, and then we all go quiet.

“So… all in favor of never talking about this?” I ask after an uncomfortably long uncomfortable silence.

“Aye,” say the brothers in unison. Cas also agrees after Dean elbows him. “Fantastic.”

[winchesterwild78]

The Hunter pt 1

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (together), Sam Winchester, Jodie Mills, Bobby Singer x Reader (Uncle/Niece)

Warnings: mention of death, small age gap, mutual pining, language, fluff

A/N: I’ve been working on getting some stories out and it’s driving me crazy. I’m turning this one into a series, probably short(ish), not 100% yet. This story came to me after starting Supernatural again. We all know how Dean feels about relationships, but let’s just pretend he finally gave in. 😀 

This is my own work, please do not take it or copy it without my permission. It’s based on characters from Supernatural, but doesn’t follow the timeline completely. I wrote it fast and edited it fast. Please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

You had lived with your Uncle Bobby since his wife, Karen died. Your parents were hunters and were killed on a hunt not long after Karen died. Bobby didn’t want you to stay in a foster home, so he took you in. You were the daughter of his brother, so it only seemed right. 

Living with Bobby was easy. He stayed out of your hair and you stayed out of his. You were almost 18 years old when you moved in, so he didn’t have too many rules. The rules he gave you were pretty easy to follow: Always carry your gun/knife with you, keep your cell phone on you at all times, home by midnight, and above all else stay the hell away from Dean Winchester. 

You thought the last rule was hilarious. You of course knew who the Winchesters were. Their dad, John, had been on a few hunts with your parents. From what you knew Dean was about a year older than you and Sam was about 3 years younger. You hadn’t officially met them, so you weren’t sure why your Uncle Bobby had that specific rule. 

On the eve of your 21st birthday you went out with some friends from work. Bobby was tough around the edges, but even before you moved in with him he always made your birthday special. He was there for every birthday you’d had. 

When you arrived home from a night out you noticed a 1967 Impala in the driveway. It was gorgeous. As you approached the car you noticed it was well taken care of and you couldn’t help but stare. All black with black leather interior, and the backseat was pretty big too. You smiled at the thought of what kind of trouble you could get into in the backseat. 

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t see the man approaching you. “Like what you see sweetheart?” You jumped, startled at the voice. You looked up and saw a tall, broad, very handsome, green eyed man standing in front of you. “Oh, yeah. She’s beautiful. Is she yours?” “I wish, she’s my dad’s. Dean Winchester, and you are?” He extended his large hand towards you to shake your hand. 

You slid your hand in his and felt his firm hands grip yours slightly, “Um, I’m Y/N, I’m Bobby’s niece. Nice to meet you Dean.” You shook his hand but an urge inside you made you want to pull him in that backseat and let him do whatever he wanted to you. 

He smiled at you and took a step closer, “Oh, so you’re the birthday girl.” His breath brushed across your ear and neck as he whispered into your ear. A shiver went through your body. He smirked at the sight of it. You blushed and shook your head. “How did you know?” “Bobby had called dad about something he wanted to give you. We were in the area so we came in a day early. I think we’re crashing here tonight.” 

Inside your head was screaming at you to kiss him and take him right there. Now you understand why Bobby had the rule about him. You’d known him less than 5 minutes and you were willing to jump in bed with him. Was he a witch?! 

A few minutes later a taller man came out, and Dean introduced him as his baby brother, Sam. You smiled and shook his hand. He was sweet, and not as forward as Dean. This must be why Bobby didn’t have any rules about him, you laughed when you thought about it. 

It was getting late so the three of you went back into the house. “Hey, Uncle Bobby, I’m back.” You announced as you walked in. Bobby came around the corner and hugged you. “Glad to hear it kiddo. Did you have a good time?” You shook your head yes. 

There was another man standing next to Bobby. You extended your hand, “You must be Mr. Winchester. Uncle Bobby has told me so much about you and your boys.” You nodded in their direction. “Yes, you can call me John, and Bobby has told me so much about you too, Y/N. Glad he has someone around here to keep him out of trouble.” You both laughed as Bobby glared, “Idjit.” 

The five of you sat in Bobby’s living room chatting and having a good time. It was late and you were tired. As you stood up Dean jumped up too. John and Bobby looked at him and then at each other. You smiled at Dean then turned to everyone. “Well gentlemen, I’m beat. I’m heading to bed. See you all tomorrow. Good night.” Everyone said good night as you climbed the stairs you took one more look at Dean who was watching you go. You smiled softly at him until he was out of sight. 

“Don’t even think about it, Dean”, John practically growled. Dean looked at his father, jaw on the ground. “What are you talking about?” “Don’t play dumb with us boy, we saw how you looked at her. She’s still a kid, and you’re 22.” “I wasn’t thinking anything, besides 21 isn’t a kid anymore.” Bobby stood up and stepped closer, “Look here Dean, leave her be. She’s too sweet to get dragged around by you. We know how you are with the ladies.” 

Dean was genuinely hurt by the insinuation he would purposely hurt you. Dean threw his hands up in defeat. “Whatever guys. I’m heading to bed. Bobby, are you okay with me crashing in the guestroom or do I need to sleep outside?” Bobby rolled his eyes and Dean walked up the stairs. 

At the top of the stairs he saw the bathroom light on and the door cracked a bit. As he walked by he looked in and saw you brushing your teeth. He smiled because you looked rabid with all the toothpaste foam coming out of your mouth. 

He walked to the guest room and started to dig out his stuff for bed. He usually slept in his boxers, but since you were there he was going to wear his sleep shorts. “Shit!” You heard coming from the room as you walked past. You knocked softly on the door. When the door opened you saw Dean standing there without his shirt on. 

Your brain stopped working and you stood there blinking at him. It was like your eyes were snapping pictures for later. “Hey, sweetheart, you okay?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence between you two. “Um, yeah, are you okay? I heard you yell “shit” when I was walking by.” “Yeah, I just realized I forgot my sleep shorts.” He ran his fingers through his gorgeous light brown hair. “Oh, okay. Well maybe Uncle Bobby has something you could borrow.” 

Dean chuckled, “Yeah, maybe.” “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Good night, Dean.” “Good night, sweetheart.” Your heart fluttered every time he called you that. You weren’t sure why, but a warmth also spread through your body. No! Uncle Bobby said absolutely no relationship with Dean! Stay away from him! 

You walked away with a slight smirk on your face and a tinge of red on your cheeks. Dean watched you as you disappeared in your room. When he turned to head towards the bathroom Sam was standing there. “Dude, what are you doing? Dad and Bobby both said to stay away from her.” “I’m not doing anything, Sammy. She knocked on the door and we chatted. That was it.” “Uh huh, sure Dean. I know when you’re into a girl. Just please stay away from her. She’s too sweet to be hurt by you. Mister “I don’t do relationships.”” 

“Whatever Sammy. I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.” Dean went to the bathroom to get ready for bed and went back to the guest room. He was completely aware you were on the opposite side of the wall. He stripped down to his boxers and crawled in the bed. 

Bobby always had the best mattresses and Dean loved staying there. As he layed in the bed he smiled at the thought of you and your rabid looking mouth while brushing your teeth, or the faint pink in your cheeks when you got embarrassed. He sighed deeply. He knew he wasn't good for you. Sam was right, he didn’t do relationships. He did one night stands and left a trail of broken hearts. He knew you deserved better. 

You laid in your bed, your mind racing. He was a gorgeous man. One you could see yourself with. The only problem was Bobby. You loved your Uncle, and trusted him. If he said Dean was bad news, then maybe he was. When he touched you though, you felt it through your body. You couldn’t believe how your body responded to him when you saw him without his shirt. You weren’t a virgin, but damn you’d never been with anyone who looked like him. You stared at your ceiling wondering what he was doing on the other side of the wall, and what he was wearing in that big, lonely bed, all by himself. You shook your head trying to rid it of those thoughts and images. 

Dammit you had to get those thoughts out of your head. They were staying a few days and you can’t drool over him the whole time he’s here. You rolled on your side and sighed. Sleep finally washed over you and you dreamed of Dean Winchester for the first time.

You woke up around 9am to the smell of coffee and bacon. You walked downstairs to see Bobby had put up a birthday banner and streamers in the kitchen. When you walked in you smiled. “Happy Birthday, kiddo!” Bobby walked over and hugged you, kissing the top of your head. “She’s not a kiddo anymore, Bobby. She can drink now.” John said as he gave you a side hug. “Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

You smiled and thanked them. Sam stood up and hugged you too, saying Happy birthday before he sat back down. Dean stood at the stove cooking and looked over at you. “Hey, birthday girl! Hope you’re hungry. I’m making bacon, eggs, hash browns, and toast. There’s coffee too.” “Thanks, Dean. That’s so sweet of you.” You smiled and walked over to the stove, “Need any help?” “Nope, I’ve got it, you go sit down and relax.” 

You nodded and smiled at Dean. He smiled back and bit his lip slightly. Sam, Bobby and John all exchanged looks. You sat down at the table with a cup of coffee. “So, what’s your plans today? Are you going out with your friends and boyfriend?” Bobby asked you. Dean’s head spun around at the mention of a boyfriend. “Nope, I hung out with my friends last night, and Alex and I broke up about a week ago. He was an ass, tried to force me into his backseat, so I broke his nose and kicked his ass.” Everyone laughed, “That’s my girl.” Bobby said proudly. 

Dean let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding when you said you had broken up with your boyfriend. “I figured I’d spend the day with you guys.” You smiled over your coffee cup. “Breakfast is ready, ladies first.” Dean smiled as he handed you a plate. “Thanks Dean, this looks amazing.”

You grabbed a little of everything and sat down at the table. Everyone else grabbed a plate and as Dean was about to sit next to you, Bobby took the seat. Dean shook his head and sat across from you. Bobby kept glaring at Dean. You cleared your throat, “Dean, this is delicious. Thank you again for cooking breakfast.” You smiled at him. “You’re welcome sweetheart, anything for the birthday girl.” He smirked at you. John kicked him under the table and Bobby was staring daggers through him. 

After you finished eating you stood up to put your plate in the sink. Dean instinctively stood too. Bobby and John looked at each other and then back at Dean. Dean sat back down. “Well guys, I’m going to go shower. I’ll be back in a little bit. Bobby stood up, “Okay, take your time.” He kissed your head and you left the room. 

Before you got too far away you heard Bobby and John lay into Dean. “Dean, we told you to stay the hell away from her. What’s gotten into you? Telling her anything for her, standing when she stands. You’re acting like a lovesick teenager.” “Look Bobby, I know you love her and want to protect her, but seriously? Why do you hate the idea of me being with her? She’s 21 and I’m 22. It’s not that big of an age difference. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.” 

“Dean, I know you mean well, son, but you have a history of sleeping with women and leaving them. I don’t want that for her. She deserves better than that.” “Oh, now I get it, you think she deserves better than ME!” Dean growled. “Dean, that’s not what I meant.” Bobby said. “Well, you know what, maybe she does deserve better than me! Maybe all of you would be better off without me in your lives.” Dean yelled and slammed his fist on the table. You jumped and climbed the stairs. 

Dean left the kitchen and walked upstairs to his room and slammed the door. You were still in your room getting stuff ready for your shower. You heard him in the room. He was mad and cursing Bobby and his dad. You walked out of your room towards the shower. You stopped outside his room and took a deep breath, then knocked. 

“What?!” Dean yelled as he swung open the door. “Oh, sorry, Y/N. I didn’t realize it was you.” “You looked at Dean and could see so much hurt in his green eyes. It broke your heart. “Dean, thank you again for making breakfast. That was really sweet of you.” Dean smiled, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” There it was again, “sweetheart”. It had your thighs clenching together. 

You’re not sure what came over you, but a surge of courage ran through your body and you stepped closer to Dean. He stepped closer to you and put his hands on your waist. Your heart was racing, but you stepped closer and now your hot breath was mingling with his. His hand gently brushed your face and he cupped your cheek. You leaned forward, stopping halfway. Dean leaned the rest of the way and your lips lightly brushed against his. He pulled you closer and his lips captured yours. Moans left both of you as his hand traveled to your hair, pulling you closer.

Your hands instinctively went around his neck. Dean’s tongue ran across your lips asking for entrance. You parted your lips slightly and Dean’s tongue plunged in and fought your tongue for dominance. The kiss seemed to last for hours. Neither one of you wanted to pull away. Finally the need for air became overwhelming and you both parted. Pants filled the air as the two of you took in the needed air. 

Your lips were on fire and you could feel the slick between your legs. You noticed Dean’s not so little problem in his jeans and you bit your lip. “Wow, sweetheart. That was unexpected, good, but unexpected.” You blushed a little. “Yeah, sorry if I overstepped. I’ve just been dying to kiss you, Dean.” “Don’t be sorry, I’ve been dying to kiss you too.” 

He smiled and pulled you back flush to his body. “Maybe we can do it again.” He leaned down and kissed your lips softly. “Dean, I need to go shower. I’ll be back soon.” You kissed his lips again and walked away. 

Dean ran his hands through his hair. He knew he was in trouble, and not just with his dad and Bobby. That kiss set his soul on fire, and you consumed his every thought. Shit! What am I going to do? That kiss was amazing, but Bobby and Dad told me to stay away. How can I? Her lips, her smile, her body. God! It’s driving me insane.

You climbed in the shower once it was hot enough and let the water wash over you like a warm blanket. You just kissed Dean. Bobby and his dad were against any type of relationship, but how could you not. He was so sweet, and that kiss was amazing. Besides, you were 21 and could date whoever you wanted. 

Dean sat on his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. Shit! Dad and Bobby were adamant about not doing anything with her, but man that kiss. Ugh! He was lost in thought when Sam stepped in the room. “Hey, Dean. Earth to Dean!” “Oh hey, Sammy. What’s up?” “What’s up with you, I called your name like 5 times.” “I screwed up Sammy. I kissed Y/N and it was amazing.” “Dude, you heard Dad and Bobby! They are going to kick your ass.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Sam, what am I going to do? I really like her, I’m drawn to her and attracted to her.” “Dean, I don’t know what to tell you. You just don’t do relationships. I don’t blame you. It’s hard to maintain one with what we do.” “Yeah, but Sam she’s in the life too. Maybe it won’t be hard.” Sam shrugged, “You still have to convince Dad and Bobby.”

Dean shook his head. He knew what Sam was saying was true, but he needed you. Sam left the room and headed back downstairs. You came out of the bathroom, dressed but your hair still wet. You passed Dean’s room and saw him sitting on the bed.

Stepping in the room you walked up to him. Dean lifted his head and smiled. “How was your shower, sweetheart.” You blushed, “It was good. I couldn’t wait to get out so I could do this again.” You leaned down and kissed his lips. He stood, not letting your lips fall from his and deepened the kiss. You felt his hands roam over your body and you moaned. 

“Dean, I need you.” You whispered. “I know sweetheart, me too. We have to be patient.” You groaned and pulled back. “I don’t understand why Bobby and your Dad are so against this. We’re both adults and can make these decisions without them.” Dean pulled you closer, “I know, but we have to be smart about this. We will figure it out.” Dean kissed your forehead and you nodded. 

You walked to your bedroom and made your bed. A few minutes later Bobby was at your door. “I can’t believe you’re an adult, Y/N. Your parents would be so proud of you, I’m so proud of you.” He crossed the room and hugged you tight. “Uncle Bobby, I can’t breathe.” You both laughed. “Hey, Uncle Bobby, can I ask you something?” “Sure, kiddo, what’s up?” “Why don’t you want me to have anything to do with Dean?” You asked nervously. 

Bobby sighed, “Look, he’s a great kid, an amazing hunter, but he doesn’t have relationships. He sleeps with a woman and leaves her the next day. I don’t want that for you.” Your heart ached hearing that Dean slept around. You weren’t sure why you felt that way, but you couldn’t shake it. “What if he was willing to change?” Bobby took your hand, “Oh baby girl, I wish I could say he could, but I can’t. If he changed then maybe I’d be okay with you two being together. I just don’t want to see you hurt.” 

You sighed. You knew he was only looking out for you. “Look, let’s focus on your birthday. What do you want to do today?” Bobby said with a smile. “Honestly, I’d like to work more on my car with you if that’s okay.” “Sure, let’s see if we can get the others to help out. They are good with cars.” You nodded enthusiastically. Bobby stood up and so did you. He hugged you tightly, “I’m just trying to protect you from getting your heart broken.” “I know, I appreciate it, but you know you can’t protect me forever.” “I know, and that kills me.” You hugged him one last time before you two walked into the hallway. 

Dean was walking out of his room and you made eye contact. He looked hurt. Did he hear what Bobby said to you? “Hey Dean, want to help us with Y/N’s car today? She’s rebuilding that old mustang and it’s almost done.” “Sure, I can help.” Dean sounded different. Almost small. Bobby walked around and headed back downstairs. 

“Hey, Dean, are you okay?” You touched his arm and he stopped and turned towards you. “Yeah, um, I just have a lot on my mind.” He moved his arm away from you. “Dean?” He turned back to face you, “What Y/N?” “Are you sure you’re okay? Something seems wrong.” Dean’s jaw clenched, “No! I’m not. You know what, this (he motioned between the two of you) isn’t going to work out. You’re too young for me and I can’t be tied down with a relationship. I like to have fun and being with one girl isn’t fun to me.” He growled.

You flinched at his sudden change in tone towards you. “Okay, I’m sorry.” You whispered. Dean huffed and walked away. You turned back towards your room and closed the door before the tears fell. 

You sat on your bed and silently cried. Dean must have heard Bobby, but why would he take it out on you? You were in your room crying for a few minutes before you were able to pull yourself together. Quickly wiping the tears away, you stood and walked downstairs. 

Bobby was the first to see you and knew you had been crying. John saw you next and shot a look at Bobby and then Dean. Dean looked up and you thought you saw a hint of regret in his eyes, but they quickly turned emotionless. Bobby walked over to you, “Are you okay?” “Yeah, just sad. I miss mom and dad.” You weren’t lying, but that wasn’t the real reason you were crying. Bobby hugged you, “Me too, kiddo.”

“Okay, so who’s helping with my car?” You tried to change the subject. “I’m ready when you are. I’ll grab my keys and head over to the garage. I’ll meet you guys there in a few.” You grabbed your keys and headed out the door. Bobby’s land was filled with cars, scrap, and a huge garage where your car was. You and Bobby started to fix it up shortly after you arrived and you found it sitting in pretty good condition. Bobby said it wouldn’t be hard to get it up and running, and you figured it would be therapeutic for both of you to work on it together. 

You walked in the garage and uncovered your car. You took a step back looking at her. “She’s beautiful.” You heard Dean say behind you. You turned and looked at him, regret in his eyes. “Thank you, Dean.” Dean stepped closer to you, “Hey, can we talk?” “Unless it’s about the car, I think you said everything you needed to say to me upstairs.” 

Dean started to step closer and you backed away, “Dean, I get it. You like your freedom and a different girl every night. Maybe you thought you could screw me and then leave. I was stupid enough to actually think I would end up in your bed, in your life but thank you. Thank you for saving me from that. Bobby and your Dad were right, you aren’t good for me. Now if you’re going to help with my car, help. If you want to talk about anything else, there’s the door.” 

Dean’s jaw clenched. He did this, he can’t be mad at you. He pushed you away, now you’re doing what you can to protect your heart. “Fine! You know what, I’m not going to sit here another damn minute and listen to you, Bobby or my Dad tell me what a fuck up I am. Tell my dad I’m going to the bar.” 

He stormed out of the garage and you leaned against the workbench. Your heart was broken. You knew he was going to get drunk and pick up a woman. You were lost in thought when Sam, Bobby and John walked in. “Hey, Y/N, where did Dean go?” John asked, looking around. “Oh, um, he said he needed to run into town.” You couldn’t bear to see the looks on their faces if you told them Dean went to the bar. They’d know something was wrong. 

The day passed quickly and your car was up and running. You were beyond thrilled. Sam and John definitely helped work their magic and your car was purring like the day she rolled out of the assembly line. You asked Sam if he wanted to take a ride into town with you, and he jumped in.

“You kids have fun, and be safe.” Bobby said as he closed your door. “Hey, pick up whatever you want for dinner too.” Bobby handed you some money. “Thanks Bobby, see you shortly.” You said as you hugged him. 

As you drove towards town Sam was grinning ear to ear. “She sounds good, Y/N.” “Yeah, thanks to you and your dad.” Sam nodded and looked out the window. “So, what happened to Dean? He told me he was coming outside to help with the car and then he was gone.” Sam asked, breaking the silence.

“Um, well honestly we got into an argument and he left, he said he was going to the bar. I didn’t want to say anything to your Dad or Bobby.” Sam looked at you, “What were you two arguing about?” “I kissed him, he kissed me back. We were stealing kisses when we could. I guess he heard Bobby talking to me today. I asked Bobby why he was so against me being with Dean and he told me about Dean picking up different women and sleeping around. How he doesn’t do relationships. If I’m being honest it kinda stung knowing Dean slept around.” 

“That still doesn’t explain why he got so mad at you, he knows how he is and is often proud of it.” “Yeah, I don’t know. He told me we wouldn’t work out, that I was too young for him and he didn’t do relationships. When he came into the garage he wanted to talk and I shot him down. I don’t know Sam, maybe I should have heard him out.” You sighed. Sam took your hand and gave you a little squeeze, “No, you had every right to be upset and not hear what he had to say.” “Thanks Sammy.”

You drove around a little longer and pulled into the local bar and grill. Sam looked at you confused. “They have the best food. We can go in, we just can’t get alcohol. Come on, let’s get some dinner. I’m assuming you know what your Dad and Dean like to eat.” Sam nodded. 

When you walked in, a middle aged woman walked over to you and gave you a hug. “Hey Y/N, Happy Birthday! Figured I’d see you today. Who’s this handsome young man with you?” She looked at Sam who was turning bright red. “Hey Cindy, this is Sam. His dad is friends with Uncle Bobby. They are in town for a few days and I wanted to bring him out to show him around.” She smiled and nudged you, “He’s a tall, handsome one, ain't he?” She winked at you. “Cindy, we are just friends.” You laughed. 

She took you two over to a booth and you sat across from Sam. Scanning the room you noticed a man at the bar with his back to you. From behind it looked like Dean. Surely it wasn’t. Sam followed your eyes to the bar and then sighed deeply. “It’s Dean, isn’t it?” You asked. Sam nodded. “Dad is going to be pissed he’s drinking right now.” 

Sam got up and walked over to the bar while you sat in the booth. Dean looked over his shoulder towards you and scoffed. Sam walked back over looking defeated. “Is everything okay, Sam?” “No, Dean is already drunk and he’s being a dick. I wouldn’t go over there if I were you.”

When Cindy came back you placed your to-go orders and sat waiting. The whole time your eyes were on Dean. He had downed at least 3 glasses of whiskey while you sat there. You had had enough and stood up. Sam grabbed your arm, “I’m telling you, Y/N. Dean can be an absolute dick when he’s hurting and drunk, just please let it go.” 

“I’ll be fine Sam.” You shrugged off his arm and walked over to the bar. The bartender Jacob noticed you and walked over. “Hey girl, Happy Birthday!” He came around the bar and pulled you into a tight hug. “Hey Jacob. Thanks!” “Hey, you can finally order something from the big kid menu.” He teased you. You playfully slapped his arm. 

Dean was watching the interaction and you could see his body stiffen. “So, I heard you beat up Alex and broke up with him.” Jacob laughed. “Yeah, the guy was an ass. Tried to force me in his backseat.” “He’s a dick and you’re better off without him. So, what brings you here today? Want me to make you something?” “As much as I would love that, I have to drive. I’m just here picking up food. You see that guy over there?” You pointed towards Sam. “Yeah, the tall, handsome one.” Jacob said. You laughed, “yeah, well him, his dad, and Uncle Bobby helped me get my car up and running. So I took her for a drive.” 

“Oooh, and you brought the handsome one over there with you?” “He’s just a friend, Jacob. Besides, I had my eye on his older brother, but I don’t think that’s going to work out.” You glanced up at Dean and watched his body language shift a little. “That’s a bummer, cause if he’s that good looking I can’t imagine what his brother looks like.”

“Yeah, his older brother is something to behold.” You knew Dean was listening to you. “He’s just a little shorter than Sam, broad shoulders, a toned chest, his body is sunkissed and lightly dusted with freckles, piercing green eyes, and soft pouty lips. His legs are slightly bowed, thick thighs you could ride for days, calloused hands, and he definitely is packing.” Jacob was fanning himself and you saw Dean smirk. “Damn girl, point me in the direction of that man, ASAP.” You laughed, you’re not his type, Jacob. Sorry.” 

“So why are you here and not riding that man until you both see stars?” “We had a disagreement and I, being stubborn, refused to listen to him. I wish I could talk to him and tell him I’m ready to listen.” “So tell him? Girl, if that man is as gorgeous as you say he is, then you should tell him.” “Maybe, the night is still young.” 

Dean lifted his hand up to get Jacob’s attention. You saw Jacob pouring Dean a cup of coffee. Jacob came back over to you, “Now that man, mmm I’d give my left hand for one hour with him. He looks like he’s been carved by Greek gods. I don’t know what way he swings though. He’s turned down everyone that approached him. I asked him why, and he said he’s got someone special at home.” 

You smiled at the thought of Dean turning down women as they approached him, and him telling Jacob he had someone special at home. You looked at Jacob and winked then walked over to Dean.

“Hey there handsome, what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” You giggled. Dean looked up at you and smirked. Sam was holding his breath across the room. “That's the best you got, sweetheart?” “Nope, how about, I lost my number, can I have yours?” You giggled and Dean smirked again. 

You touched his arm, “Dean, I am so sorry. I should have let you talk to me. I was hurt and just so disappointed. I really thought we might have something, then you said what you said and I was just sad.” “No, sweetheart, it’s me who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or taken any of that shit out on you. Come here.” Dean pulled you into a tight hug and pulled back. “Can I kiss you again?” No words were needed, you leaned forward and his lips captured yours in a heated kiss. Jacob was standing there with his jaw on the ground. 

When the two of you finally pulled away, Dean paid his tab and walked over to the booth where Sam was. Jacob shot you a smile and a thumbs up. Dean put his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him. Cindy returned not long after that with your food order. “Oh and Y/N, I put a whole pie in there for you for your birthday. It’s on the house. Happy Birthday again!” “Thank you Cindy, see you later.” “Wait, you like pie?” Dean asked excitedly. “Yeah, who doesn’t?” You laughed. “Oh, sweetheart, you are definitely a girl after my own heart. 

Part 2

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[messylustt]

murderous — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : he tried to get you out of the city, but it’s too late…

contents : reader death. blood and violence. angry ethan. quinn being a bitch. wc 1.2k

You watch in horror as a friend you’d grown close to over the past year take off his Ghostface mask. Ethan Landry stares back at you, cold. But inside he’s burning. He had tried to get you out of the city, dropping subtle hints, but nothing seemed to work. He hadn’t wanted you to get caught up in his family’s revenge plan.

But here you were, eyes wide, with blood trickling down your forehead. Ethan hissed at Quinn. “You said you’d leave her alone.”

Quinn tilts her head, mockingly pouting. “Did I?”

“Yeah, you fucking did.” Ethan leers at Quinn, but detective Bailey intercepts. “That’s enough.”

Your backed up beside Tara and Sam, huddling protectively as your heart sank to the floor. Of course Ethan was Ghostface, how could you be so stupid to befriend him? You hadn’t known, but you should’ve. Never trust anyone.

Ethan looks back to you, suddenly feeling sick. His stomach hadn’t churned when he repeatedly stabbed Chad in the chest and stomach not mere moments ago. But your shaky breathes and betrayed gaze penetrates him more than any of his killings ever could.

He liked you. He liked being around you, talking to you. And now you hated him. You’d never be close to him again. Because now you could die. Ethan sucks in a breath, his grip on his knife tightening.

“Stop being so pussy whipped Ethan, and stab the bitch.” Quinn exasperates. Ethan shoots her a glare, wanting to stab her instead.

“Oh, shut up Quinn.” Ethan had never felt so angry—at everyone. All except you. He hated Sam and Tara for killing his brother. He hated his dad and sister for dragging you into this mess. But he could never hate you, with your sweet words and smiling face.

But you weren’t smiling, and he’d never hear that sugary tone again. Because now your shooting daggers at him, your stages of grief reaching mad.

You and the Carpenter sisters are holding bricks, prepared as weapons if any one of the fucked up family members decides to attack.

“Stay the fuck back!” Sam exclaims, gripping the brick tighter.

Quinn jumps at Sam swiping her knife across her upper arm. You jolt beside her, fear heavily prominent in your eyes.

Fuck, Ethan thinks. He didn’t like that expression. You were afraid…of him. God, no.

When your gazes met, you were gulping, praying to get away from here. Ethan was staring, unwaveringly focused. But when his dad began to speak explaining their plan he had to look away.

“…but of course my son had to make a friend. A real one.” Detective Bailey said, eyeing you. “He got too distracted, didn’t you, Ethan?” Bailey turns to Ethan waving his gun around.

Ethan ground his teeth, jaw tightening.

“And would you look at that?” Bailey continues watching Ethan. “He looks a little too effected, don’t you think?” He turns to Quinn who nods, a sadistic smile appearing on her face.

Bailey turns back to look at you. “We’ve come so far. It would be a shame for this to blow up just because Ethan’s young mind wandered.” Bailey pauses for a moment as your breath hitches. “So, I’m afraid this kills gonna have to be quick.”

He’s then aiming his gun at you and a bullet flies. Ethan doesn’t have time to react before it hits you. A wet patch begins to form on your sweatshirt as you touch your wound. You stumble back, choking, as you hear Sam and Tara rushing to you. Your hip hits one of the glass casings, before your sliding down to the floor.

Then you feel a hand cupping the back of your neck. Another holding you from falling more. Your coughing blood. Your eyes are slightly rolling as pain shoots through you.

Sam and Tara stare in equal fear and shock at Ethan who is holding onto you, pressing his own hand to your gushing wound. “No, no, no. Don’t you fucking— y/n.” He breathes, trying to tap your face to keep you from closing your eyes.

“Aw, I almost feel bad.” Quinn comments.

“Your a fucking bitch Quinn!” Ethan exclaims, red hot anger rolling off of him in waves. But it seems only Sam and Tara catch the desperation in his tone.

Ethan grabs your face. “Y/n stay the fuck awake.”

“Y-your a killer.” You choke out through your mouthful of blood.

“N-no. Y/n. I’m—” but he was. He wasn’t that delusional to think he wasn’t. “I’m sorry.” He decides on saying.

“No your not.”

“Yes I fucking am. But your not gonna die, you hear me?” Ethan breathes. He suddenly feels something on his shoulder. Whipping his head up he sees his dad, his gun tapping for his attention.

“Come on son, let her go. This is for the best.”

The best? The fucking best? Ethan lost it, grabbing his dads gun and tossing it aside. He swiftly stands and yanks hard on his collar, throwing him into one of the glass casings. Bailey is genuinely shocked as he gapes at his son.

“Listen, what are—” Bailey angrily tries but Ethan is quick to cut him off.

“No, you fucking listen!” He rages, holding his knife out. “I told you not to touch her! She wasn’t apart of the plan, she didn’t fucking need to be!”

“Our plan was to avenge your brother! Don’t give me this bullshit. She was apart of their so called friend group, so is automatically on our hit list!”

“Oh, I really don’t care dad. Kill the sisters.” Ethan gestures to Sam and Tara with his knife. “Do it. But don’t you think for one moment she is gonna die.” He gestures back to you.

Bailey follows the knife, stopping on you. But then a smile begins to form on the older man’s face making Ethan’s brows furrow.

“I think you may have to change your last statement, son.”

Ethan quickly looks to you and only sees a body. Your still, face drained of colour, and chest not moving. No. Ethan rushes over. No. Ethan taps your cheek. God, no. Ethan shakes you, gulping down the arising bile. Please.

Your cold, and when he feels your pulse, or where he should feel it, he freezes. He doesn’t think twice, his brain not being able to compute anything but rage. Any other emotion would break him.

He aims his knife straight into his dads chest, a satisfying squelching sound breaking the heavy breaths. Bailey screams, Ethan’s fast movements catching him off guard.

Quinn is rushing forward, but Ethan is twisting the knife, Baileys shirt and skin tearing as blood began to pool out. His screams reach Ethan’s ears only egging him on. He couldn’t feel anything but anger. Raw and murderous.

Quinn is trying to pull her dad away, before she tries to swipe at Ethan. “What the fuck are you doing?!” She exclaims.

But Ethan doesn’t stop ripping down baileys chest as he squirms. He can’t see him as his father anymore. He just took away the one thing that made him feel good.

When his knife dropped away, Detective Bailey fell to the ground, as Quinn quickly tried to aid him. This wasn’t supposed to happen, none of this was supposed to happen.

And when Ethan glanced back at your lifeless body, your last words swirling in his head (y-your a killer. I’m sorry. No your not), he almost felt bad for the people he was about to murder. You were right…he was a killer.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[urdepressedslut]

Protect me

♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: With Zemo hanging around, you begin to feel very protective over Bucky.

♡ Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of buckys trauma, anxiety attack

You were on edge ever since Zemo showed up, knowing what he put Bucky through made you feel extremely protective over him.

Your cheeks were flushed with rage, your nostrils flaring in attempt to hold yourself back from killing Zemo yourself. Zemo would try and be civil, starting small talk, being extra nice. You weren’t having any of it, you were snappy and short with him. Trying to keep conversation to a minimum, knowing that the second you opened your mouth, shit would go down.

Zemo found it hilarious and found the whole act to be entertaining. Now he was pestering you with dumb questions, making it his goal to get you to break. He found it pathetic that someone like you, was trying to protect someone like The Winter Soldier.

Bucky on the other hand found it adorable, and felt incredibly special with your protectiveness. His heart attempted to explode at every tiny gesture you’d make.

Always putting yourself in between him and Zemo. You changing the subject if Zemo tried to poke at Bucky’s trauma. Making sure you kept him reassured that he was okay. That the words don’t work on him anymore when he started to overthink.

All these things adding to the list of why he loves you.

Although Bucky loved seeing your protective side, he knew you were holding back much more than you were letting off. He could tell you were incredibly anxious, from the second Zemo joined their group.

He had made it clear that you didn’t have to be so strong for him, but you refused and kept up your guard. He knew that eventually things would get better, but for now he felt useless.

The air was thick with tension as Zemo did all the talking with Selby.

You were having a hard time holding yourself together, upset that Bucky had to portray The Winter Soldier again.

Selby kept giving you a judgmental side eye, making you nervous that she was growing suspicious. But otherwise didn’t push too much, and instead focused her attention on Bucky and Sam.

“What’s the offer?” Selby asked Zemo, smirking evilly.

“Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum,” Zemo starts, standing up to circle Bucky, “And I give you him. Along with the code words to control him, of course.”

Bucky doesn’t budge, standing still with an empty look on his face, staying in character. You clench your hands into fists at Zemo’s words, sneaking a look at Bucky and you swear you saw a hint of fear in his eyes.

Zemo continues to circle him, touching him as he makes rounds. Selby grins at his offer, making you sick to your stomach.

“He will do anything you want.” Zemo adds, caressing Bucky’s face. The words and actions had you seeing red, your chest tightening up.

Your nails dug into your palms, drawing crescent shaped cuts, blood starting to pool in your fist.

There was obviously a line that no one wanted to cross, and considering that this plan started over the line… It was too much for you. You couldn’t listen to Zemo talk about Bucky like he wasn’t even there, like he was an object.

Your nose tingled, the familiar warning that you were about to cry, and your fists shook slightly. Zemo and Selby kept talking, but to you it was all muffled.

This wasn’t the place or time to break down, and despite not being able to breathe well, you locked it away, not allowing any tears to fall.

—————————❂—————————

Someone had eventually shot Selby, and that someone ended up revealing themselves as Sharon Carter. One thing led to another, and now everyone was gathered at Sharon’s place.

Bucky had noticed quickly that you hadn’t spoken too much since before the interaction with Selby, and he had grown worried.

You looked paler to him, the gorgeous color in your cheeks gone. You were staring off into space if not listening in the conversation.

He figured it was going to be hard for you to see him back as The Winter Soldier, considering how protective you’ve been. But he was only acting, and he knew you knew that.

Bucky walked over to your staring form near the window, which had an incredible view but he doubted you were actually looking at it.

“Hey doll, you doing okay? You’ve been awfully quiet, which is not like you at all.” Bucky tried to lighten the mood, but barely saw you flinch from his attempt.

“Baby? Please talk to me.” He pleaded, growing more worried every second you stayed silent.

He wrapped his arms around your frame and it was then he felt you shaking. Pulling away he immediately scanned you over, taking in your balled up hands, noticing streaks of red leaking through the cracks of your fingers. Lastly, he could hear your pained wheezes, like you couldn’t breathe.

“Babydoll, I need you to look at me.” He told you softly, keeping his tone gentle.

Reaching out, he collected your fists into his palms, internally cheering when you moved your head to finally meet his eyes.

“There you are, now I need you to take a deep breath with me okay? C’mon baby, do it with me.” He told you slowly, and watched you take a tiny breath in, wincing when you strained your lungs to expand.

He coached you through a couple more breaths until you were taking in large gulps of air. It was like your brain finally allowed you to process everything as soon as you had enough oxygen.

“There we go, you did so well doll,” Bucky noticed your lip quivering, and watched tears gather in your eyes. “Oh baby, c’mere.”

He scooped you up into his arms, caging you with his embrace. Letting yourself feel the warmth of Bucky’s arms, you let out pained sobs, holding onto him like he was going to disappear.

“I was s-so scared.” She whimpered, causing Bucky to hold you tighter. His heart hurting from how broken you sounded.

“It’s over now baby, you don’t have to be scared.” He cooed, sneaking his metal hand under your shirt to stroke your back, knowing that the coolness brought you comfort in situations like this.

“I hate it when they talk about you like that,” You cried out, “Like you’re— like—“

“It’s okay baby, you don’t have to finish, I know.” He stopped you, knowing your words would’ve brought on a new wave of tears.

“I hated that I couldn’t do anything, I fucking hated it.” You cried.

He frowned, hugging your sobbing form, his heart breaking at the fact that you were upset because he had to portray The Winter Soldier. You were more upset for him, than he was for himself. You were too caring for his heart to handle.

You lifted your face from his chest, leaning up to meet his eyes. You held his face in your hands, looking into his eyes with panic.

“You okay?” You asked him softly, and he melted at your touch, pushing his face further into your hands. Even in this state, you were still worried about him.

“I’m okay babydoll. As long as I’ve got you with me, I’m gonna be okay.” He told you, lifting his flesh hand to gently grab your chin, letting his thumb caress your bottom lip. “Are you okay?”

“Now I am,” You nodded to him, “I just— You’ve already been through so much, and I hate seeing you have to do something so traumatic. I just wanna protect you from everything… I can’t and won’t see you hurt again.”

Bucky’s heart swelled at your words, there wasn’t anyone else that could make him feel as special as you do. You made him feel so important.

He pulled you in, giving your lips a quick but passionate kiss. His flesh hand cradling the back of your head, his metal hand pushing on your lower back, your front meeting his.

“I love you so much.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I love you too Buck.” You murmured, nuzzling your nose into his.

There was nothing else in the world you’d ever want, all you wanted was right here in his arms.

[french-goodbye]

If you want it good, downright iconic

Summary: your third date with Eddie goes even better than expected.

Warnings: kissing, masturbating. 18+, MINORS DNI.

Notes: title from Gibson Girls by Ethel Cain bc Eddie would’ve loved preacher’s daughter.

The first time Eddie asked you out, you were honestly surprised.

He now had been regularly dropping by the record store where you work, all smiles and fleeting touches, usually backed by silly teasing jokes. At the beginning you thought he might’ve liked you, but then two months went by and you thought to yourself that if he was interested, he would’ve definitely asked you out by now… right?

Turns out you were wrong and he was just bidding his time to make sure you were interest before he made a move. That happened a month ago, when he stopped by the store in his usual leather jacket and a pretty wildflower bouquet in his hands, and nervously asked if you wanted to hang out sometime.

“Like a date?” you’d asked hopefully, considering the huge crush you’d been nursing on him ever since he first walked into the store, chains hanging from his black jeans and chunky silver rings.

“If you want it to be” was all he said, fiddling with those same rings on his fingers.

Now after two official dates and many non official hang outs, he was taking you on your third one. The two of you had decided on watching the movie Halloween on the drive in by the edge of town and he had picked you up at your house earlier that night, a beaming smile on his face and a bag full of your favorite snacks on the passenger seat. Then, you couldn’t be bothered to hide your desire to squish his cheeks together and press kisses to his face until he was flushing red and pushing you away, claiming you’d be late for the movie.

After the movie, he had invited you to his trailer claiming his his uncle was on the night shift at work once more and that “he needed you to hold his hand because of how scary the movie was”. Of course you said yes, and that’s how you found yourself being led to his trailer, his hand clasped in yours swinging between your bodies.

You’re not stupid. You know what the third date usually entails, and the fact that Eddie invited you to his house when his uncle isn’t home just all but guarantees he’s thinking the same thing. It’s not like you can reprimand him for that either, since he took the first step and asked you out, you haven’t been exactly shy on telling him how attracted to him you are.

You’ve kissed enough times by now to know what he likes and what he doesn’t, but tonight was the farthest you’ve ever gone. The darkness of the drive in and the privacy of his van making it so, so easy for you to climb over the gear shift of his van and onto his lap and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him, until his van’s windows were foggy and your lips were red and spit slicked and you could feel his hardness poking your thigh for a second, before he readjusted you on his lap as Michael Myers killed Laurie’s friends behind you.

“I really don’t understand why people always die after having sex in horror movies” you complain as you take off our shoes by the front door, his hand on your elbow so you don’t loose your balance. “It’s such a puritanical take.”

“It’s the satanic panic, sweetheart. Can’t have teenagers having pre marital sex” he answers as he toes off his own sneakers and guides you to his now familiar room, that you came to know at your other non official dates, when he had forced you to come over to listen to the new Metallica album and to watch him play guitar for you.

“It’s stupid, it’s what it is” you complain, walking into his room like you own the place. You start removing your jewelry and putting it on top of his dresser.

“Oh, so you are having pre marital sex, sweetheart?” His eyes are almost dancing and he’s wiggling his brows suggestively, teasing you.

Despite his teasing jokes, you can’t help the knot that tightens in your stomach just by thinking of sex and Eddie Munson in the same sentence. You want so bad to find out everything that makes him tick, how he likes to be touched and how he’d sound if you touched him. Tonight had been the farthest you ever got together, as you sat on his lap and felt his half hard cock almost burn a whole through your dress and felt him give you a particularly nasty hickey on your neck.

You throw him a bored glance over your shoulder, trying to smother the fire in your belly as he walks closer, cornering you against his desk as his chest presses to yours.

“Is that your way of asking if I’m gonna have sex with you?” you ask boldly, but smiling and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Since it’s our third date and all.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t wanna do that” he shakes his head vehemently and you raise your brows. “I mean, you just said people who have sex in horror movies die. I’d never risk my life like that.”

“So you’d risk mine?” You scoff indignantly.

He shrugs, “yeah, sure. Why not?”

“You wouldn’t survive even if you didn’t have sex anyway” you sulk playfully, feeling his hands reach for your waist and pull you closer.

“Excuse me? I resent that statement.”

“You’re the town’s satanist, remember? You’re the first suspect,” you explain as he walks backwards towards his bed, turning you around when he’s close enough and pushing you around until the mattress hits your knees. “You gotta die so people can be sure you aren’t really the killer.”

“What about you? Are you the pretty girl who survives despite it all?” He asks, his nose rubbing against yours and his lips so, so close.

“It depends…” you begin. “Are you gonna make a move on me or are we just talking about horror movie tropes all night?”

He laughs loudly, gently pushing you backwards until you fall and bounce on his bed, squealing loudly as you do. He immediately throws himself on the bed and crawls after you.

“Oh, we’re feeling feisty today, aren’t we?” He asks, kneeling as you your legs spread wider so he can slot himself in the space between them.

“I’ve been waiting long enough for you, Munson” you tease.

“Excuse me? You could’ve made a move! What about feminism?” He complains, lowering himself until he’s on top of you and his hips are pressed between your legs and you can feel his half hard cock from your time at the drive in probing your inner thigh.

“I’m a lady!” you protest, your hands climbing up his back to pull him impossibly closer. “We don’t do that”

He smiles but leans closer and closer, until his lips brush yours, but still doesn’t kiss you. You try to kiss him but he dodges you, one of his hands sinking into the hair at nape of your neck to tug it and pull you away as he holds himself up with his other hand.

“Beg for it then, little lady”

“Eddie-“ you whine, trying to kiss him again as he grips your hair to stop you almost forcefully.

“Say please for me?” He asks pressing a wet kiss to each of your cheeks gently, a stark contrast to his hand on your hair.

“Please, Eddie. Please kiss me.” You beg, scrunching your brows almost a little desperately.

He smirks smugly but obliges, leaning down to kiss you and releasing the hold he has on your hair. You brush your tongue against his bottom lip and he lets you in, making your nails dig on his back and your legs spread open even wider so you can feel more of him.

His hand slips under your skirt and he grabs your ass, squeezing one of your butt cheeks hard. You whine underneath him, grinding your hips against his.

“Wanted you like this for so long.” He whispers when he breaks the kiss, rolling his hips to meet yours and finding you so hot and warm he can feel it through his jeans.

“Not longer than me.” You answer, wrapping your legs around his hips. “I’ve wanted to do this since you walked into the store.”

“Why do you think I walked in in the first place?” He murmurs against your lips, guiding your hips to meet his through layers of underwear and denim.

You feel infinitely more attracted to him at his admission and tug on his hair so you can kiss him again, again and again for what feels like hours, until you’re soaking through your underwear and his cock is rubbing a spectacularly good place around your clit.

He breaks the kiss to mouth on your neck, going lower until he’s reaching the neckline of your dress and sucking a mark bellow your collarbone.

“Thought so much about this,” you babble, your fingers sinking into his hair to keep his mouth on your cleavage, not really thinking about anything else but him. “Touched myself thinking about this.”

He immediately freezes on top of you and you regret your words as he pulls his mouth from your neck to see your face.

“Did you really?” He asks breathlessly.

“Yeah… is that- is that weird?” You ask self consciously and his hand shift from your ass to rub on your hip soothingly.

“Did you forget who you’re talking to? I’m the town freak,” he scoffs, squeezing your hip reassuringly. “That’s actually really fucking hot”

“You think so?” You ask, fiddling with his hair.

“Definitely” he nods rapidly, making his hair fly all over his face. You’re laughing quietly when he kisses you forcefully, but quickly. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What did you think about when you touched yourself?”

“Eddieee-“ you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“No, come on. Don’t hide from me.” He begs, pulling your hands away and holding them between his own.

“That’s embarrassing” you complain, playing with the rings still on his fingers.

“Why?” He shrugs. “I’ve done the same thing.”

You still, your brows raising in interest “you did?”

“Yeah,” he stammers, suddenly shy himself. “Is that weird?”

“No” you answer honestly, a hot star burning in your belly thinking about it. Thinking about him all alone in his room, getting hard and fisting his cock just at the mere thought of you, trying to keep quiet so his uncle can’t hear him. “What did you think about?”

“You,” he shrugs. You look at him curiously and he shrugs again. “What you’d sound like, what you’d look like if I got my hands on you… you know.”

“What else?”

“Why I am the only one baring my soul here?” He asks suddenly, his cheeks red and looking at you accusatorially.

“Sorry,” you say, scrunching your face in thought. “That’s not fair, is it?”

He shakes his head in no, “why don’t we make it a game? I tell you something and you tell me something?”

That sounds fair, you think to yourself. You do wanna know more, curiosity gnawing at your stomach to find out what he thought about you, if they’re the same things you did, if your fantasies match his.

“Fine” you agree, finally.

“So…” he teases, booping your nose playfully. “What did you think about?”

You look at him for a second, his bright brown eyes and flushed cheeks and his earnest expression. And you know in your heart Eddie would never betray you or shame you for whatever you’re about to say or do here in his room. Everything that happens in the private space between you is staying where it should be.

“Okay…” you begin, not sure where to start. “I thought about your fingers rubbing my clit, about how you’d feel with your head between my thighs.”

He looks like you’ve just told him Christmas came earlier, his hips unconsciously jerking against yours and the pressure of his grip on your hips increasing. You sigh and your hands climb up his arms to his back, rubbing your hands between his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking hot” he splutters, his hips still moving slowly on top of yours and his hand digging, tightening his hold on your bare hips. “I thought about that too…how you’d like it, what you’d sound like. Thought about how you’d look with my cock in your mouth, with my cum on your tits.”

“I bet you looked so fucking good jerking off”

He suddenly leans down to kiss you again, all tongue and teeth, his hips still driving against yours. He roughly pulls away when you’re both breathless and you’re almost feeling dazed.

“Why don’t you show me what you look like when you touch yourself, pretty girl?” He murmurs, his lips still brushing against yours and tucking some loose hair behind your ear.

You nod avidly, wanting nothing but to relieve the pressure building in your lower stomach and to put on a show for him, show him what you could’ve been doing all this time if either of you had just made a move sooner. He leans away to be able to see all of you, his hands spreading your thighs when he kneels between them.

You slide your hand down your belly, lifting your dress up to your waist so your lower half is exposed. He watches avidly, following your fingers as you slip them under your underwear and find yourself wet and swollen, a moan leaving your lips at the feeling of finally being touched.

“The first time I touched myself thinking about you,” you begin, your previous shame turning into hot liquid licking down your spine at the way he’s looking at you right now. “Was after you told me you were in a band. You know what they say about guitarists, right? I kept thinking if that was true”

He exhales a laugh through his nose, pushing his hair away from his face. He squeezes your thigh meanly, like molding bread underneath his fingertips.

“You’ll find out” he promises.

“Can I take these off?” You complain, already pushing your underwear down your legs with his help and quickly getting rid of your dress too, baring yourself completely to him since you’re not wearing a bra. He casually throws your clothes over his shoulder, not caring where or how they land, his whole focus on you as he sprawls you open, forcing your thighs against his sheets so he can see your bare pussy, his hands spreading your legs so wide it almost aches.

You smear your wetness around your entrance to your clit and start rubbing it under your fingertips, slowly building a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Such a pretty pussy, why’d keep it away from me for so long?”

He swiftly pulls his shirt over the back of his head, exposing miles of pale and inked skin. You barely have time admire him as he comes closer, so close you can feel his hard cock against the back of your hand over denim, one of his hands shifting up your thigh to brush his thumb over your ribs.

“Can I…?” He starts, looking intently at your breasts and you interrupt him.

“Yes, yes” you breathe out and increase the speed of your fingers over your clit, as he slides his hands up to experimentally brush his thumb over your nipple.

“Fuck, have been dying to get my hands on them” he admits, cupping the weight of your breast on his hands and then pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Looked so pretty with those tank tops, almost couldn’t stop looking”

You mewl underneath him, the feeling of his body so close, his fingers pulling and twisting your nipples and the knowledge of what you’re doing to him making you climb to your peak faster than usual. He takes notice of the way your hips are moving in time with your hand and squeezes your nipple harder, leaning down until you’re face to face.

“You’re gonna cum, sweet thing? Come on, show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.”

Your free hand pulls him closer by the neck so you can kiss him, exhaling into his mouth as you furiously rub your clit. Nothing but thoughts of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie echoing through your mind. He guides you through your high, whispering sweet nothings against your mouth, pressing his lips to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead as his hips grinding against your thigh.

When you’re finally done, your fingers moving away from your clit because of the sensitivity and his arms thrown over you as he lays on the spot next you, watching you in awe like you just played the sickest guitar riff ever.

“I knew you incredible before,” he says, his fingers stroking the skin of your ribs, tracing the bone underneath. “But damn, sweetheart.”

“Shut up” you complain laughingly, turning on your side to see him. His face is bright red, like he just came back from a run and his hair’s incredibly messy, more than usual and his brown eyes are so, so bright and happy.

You can’t help but lean over to press a kiss to his lips, a lingering one that goes on for a long time. The previously put out embers in your belly lighting up a fire again. You’re starting to slip your hand down his body to cup his erection when he stops you. You pull away to look at him questioning until you notice how shifty he is, and you look at his crotch only to find a wet spot there.

“Did you just…?” You begin.

“Y-yeah… listen, sweetheart, I’m sorry-” you interrupt before he can continue apologizing, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“That’s so fucking hot.” you claim matter-of-factly, still suffocating him with quick kisses on his lips.

“There’s no way you think that, you don’t have to spare my feelings-“

“Excuse me? I think the fact you were so turned on over me touching myself you came in your pants so incredibly fucking hot, thank you very much” you climb over him, straddling his body in all your naked glory and his eyes can’t seem to be able to stop roaming your body, his eyes constantly shifting from your tits, to your belly, to your hips and to your mound.

“Okay, okay. If you think so, sweetheart” he says appeasingly, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. You lean down again until you’re face to face and you can kiss his lips wetly.

“When does your uncle get home again?” You ask between kisses.

“Around 7am… why?”

You pull away to see his face and you can’t contain the beaming smile taking over yours.

“How long until you can get going again?” You question, slowly moving your hips on top of him. He watches you eagerly.

“Not long,” he answer and you can feel the damp patch of denim underneath you getting wetter as you grind against him. You also can distinctly feel his cock twitching through his underwear. “With the way you’re all over me”

You throw your head back in laughter and he digs his fingers on your hips painfully.

“Then maybe you can show me what exactly you were thinking about when you jerked off… something about my mouth on your cock and your cum on my tits?”

“You’re fucking perfect” he states seriously, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. He pulls you down until he’s hungrily kissing you, all tongue and teeth and way too wet, but you can’t really complain.

Turns out, he doesn’t really need that long to get hard again. Who would’ve thought?

[ashboy-3]

Smash or Pass

Fandom: Danny Phantom and Batfam Prompt: https://www.tumblr.com/help-i-need-a-cool-username/719653067055906816/ashboy-3-please-tag-me-whenever-you-post-it?source=share Characters: Danny, Sam, Tucker, Jason, Batfam Words: 1908 Summary: Danny refuses to sleep and gets stopped by a reporter. Not fully knowng what she aks when questioning him about Red Hood Danny answers with a simple Smash. Now if only his crush Jason Todd would pick up on the social cues.

“So what’s the game tonight?” Danny asked, looking at the screen of the video camera to see Tucker and Sam staring back at him.

“Are you sure Danny. Isn’t it like ten over there?” Sam asked, worry clearly on her face.

“It’s not a good night for sleep Sam. Please. You two both have the day off, right?” Danny asked.

“Yeah we do dude. So I was thinking Smash or pass?” Tucker threw the idea out there.

“Oh that’s a good one. What should we do it on?” Danny asked.

“Super smash bros? It has Smash in the name?” Tucker suggested.

“Then we should totally do Pokémon!” Sam had an evil smirk.

“Oh you are both so on!” Danny quickly agreed as Tucker quickly found a full list online of the Super Smash bro fighters, sharing his screen and making sure to record, if anything for future black mail reasons.

“Alright first up Mario,” Tucker announced, both his friends knowing that he would rather be the impartial party and narrator while they have their fun.

“Pass.” Danny and Sam voiced.

“Donkey Kong.”

“Pass,” Danny quickly said.

“Smash!” Sam was quick to say as the two looked at each other.

“You want to smash a giant monkey?” Danny questioned.

“First off he’s a gorilla, second you can’t tell me that he doesn’t fuck,” she quirked her eyebrow at him.

“Fair enough,” Danny yielded holding up his drink to take a sip in her honor.

“Dude that’s water,” Tucker rolled his eyes.

“Don’t’ remind me. Who’s next!”

“Link.”

“Smash” Tucker rolled his eyes at his two friends.

“Sometimes you two are so predictable. Samus.”

“Pass,” Sam waved her off.

“Smash. Let her fuck me up, in or out of that suit!”

“Dark Samus?”

“Same,” they both agreed, to keep their answers from last time.

“Yoshi.”

“Smash!” Sam yelled out, Danny thinking about it before he to agreed.

“Why am I friends with you two? Kirby?”

“Pass,” Sam said as Danny thought abot it. “Yeah pass. I feel like Kirby is to innocent. And dude who else would you be friends with. Hit me with the next one!”

“Fox and Falco.”

“Pass on Fox smash on Falco,” Sam decided. “Pass on both,” Danny shook his head.

“How could you smash one but not the other? Their the same thing?” Danny asked.

“First off their not. I feel like Falco is more bad ass. Second, I don’t want to hear that argument when we get to pokemon.”

“Fair enough.” Danny agreed.

“Speaking of Pokemon I’m skipping them in this list since that’s our next list,” Tucker skipped the image of pikachu. They both passed on Luigi, Ness, Captain Falcon, and jigglypuff.

“I would so smash princess peach, daisy, and Rosalina. Line them up!” Danny cheered.

“Really Peach? I would only smash Rosalina. She at least had a story line,” Sam rolled her eyes.

“Bowser?”

“Smash the fucking hell out of me!” Danny cheered.

“Okay I know I’m a monster fucker, but are you sure you’re not one?” Sam asked him.

“I have never actually thought about it,” Danny shrugged. “But you still didn’t answer the question?”

“Of course, I’d smash Bowser. Pass on Wario, Waluigi, and Dr. Mario,” Sam rolled her eyes, a smile on her lips.

“Yeah, I can agree with that statement,” Danny shook his head in understanding. “We are passing on the ice climbers?” Danny asked.

“Of course!” Danny agreed. “and you know I’m smashing Sheik and Zelda!”

“Smash Sheik pass on Zelda.”

“You are aware that their the same person right?” Tucker asked her.

“I’m very aware. Sheik could kill me and Zelda is a broing princess. I know what I want in a partner.”

“point taken,” Tucker stopped his fight as he ended up pushing next multip times. Danny and Sam both agreed to pass on the fire emblem charctrers along with young link while Smashing Ganon.

“Mr. Game and Watch.”

“Pass,” Sam said quickly.

“I’d smash. I feel like he could give me a fun time. You saw how he handles that hammer. If I’m lucky he’d use it to pound me,” Danny smiled, making both of his friends laugh.

“You know Danny I agree with that statement and that’s why I’d smash meta knight.”

“To much armor for me,” Danny said, making Tucker snort.

They passed on the Pit’s, kept their same opinion on Samus and landed on Snake.

“Extra Smash!” Danny and Sam agreed.

They kept playing, ending pretty quickly with mostly passes. Danny wanting to smash Bayonets,, Ridley, and King Roll. Sam was agreeing with that list adding Isabella, claiming that she must have some evil dark side to her. This led the group to the pokemon list.

“Do we want to start with Gen 1? Or just go into chaos?” Tucker asked, knowing his friends answers as he got up the list for Gen 9.

“I’m being honest if it’s got three evolutions, I’m most likely not going to smash the first evolution. The second and third are still up for grabs,” Danny set down his rules.

“I can agree with that. So we passing on Sprigatto, Quaxly, and Fuecoco,” Tucker mumbled to himself, making sure to skip thoses options.

“I’m Smashing Floragato, Meowscarda and crocalor from the starters,” Danny stated.

“Chicken,” Sam snorted. “I’ll take your grass started and your fire second evolution and raise you a Quaxwell.”

“I feel like it’s only going to drown into madness from here,” Tucker groaned, knowing it’s not even midnight where Danny is yet and there are nine generations of pokemon.

“How can you not Smash Spidops!” Danny asked frantically.

“Are you kidding? All it does is shot webs. If I wanted to fuck something that shots webs I would fuck spiderman,” Sam rolled her eyes.

“You. . .bring out an excellent point, but I’m not changing my answer!”

“Smashing Arbolliva!” Sam slammed her hand on the desk.

‘Damn girl! I am right here! If you don’t want me then just say it,” Tucker teased her as Danny laughed.

“Smash. Samsh. Smash Ceruledge,” Danny was cheering, Sam cheering with him.

“You know it makes sense that the two of you dated in. highschool, but I can clearly tell why you two were never going to work,” Tucker observed.

“And why is that?” Danny asked, quirking his eyebrow.

“You have to similar of taste.”

“No way in hell you’re actually fucking Grafaiai. Sam do you just have a thing for monkeys or something? “Danny asked.

“I’m not the one who’s ready to throw a party for Toedscruel. I thought we agreed no judging?” She glared.

“Oh know we are judging. I think I’m the one who’s judging the worst,” Tucker laughed.

“That doesn’t count. You only have eyes for Sam. I can’t even recombed a person looks hot and fuckable to you without you saying Sam’s better,” Danny groaned.

“Yep and it’s nice to see that my girlfriend does not have the same standards for me,” Tucker was looking towards her, a playful smile on his lips. He knows she loves him and that he’s not being serious.

“Ah shit guys! I gotta go and get ready for class!” Danny said after hours of playing the smash or pass game. They did eventually make it through all of the Pokémon, but now it was 7 am and Danny had to run to get to campus and stop at his favorite coffee shop.

“Make sure you stay awake dude. If you need to skip class I can write you a doctor’s note,” Tucker said.

“I’ll be fine. I just really don’t want to sleep right now. I should be better by tonight,” Danny said bye to his friends, changing into a different shirt, making sure to grab his jacket, wallet, and keys before leaving his small apartment.

Danny loved living in Gotham, but sometimes the hustle and bustle of the city can be chaotic and stressful, especially on the days when Danny could possibly be late for class, sleep deprived, yet to have his coffee and some report is stopping him to ask him question.

“Opinion of Red Hood?” was the only thing Danny heard the reported ask.

“Smash,” was all Danny could think of as he quickly walked into the coffee shop to get his black coffee with 12 extra expresso shots. Did is taste good? No. Did it wake him up? Absolutely.

Danny didn’t realize the absolute chaos he had caused till he was back home from his classes, Sam and Tucker spamming him with memes of what he did.

Seeing no other option but to go along with it. He found the original clip that tucker sent him a link to, tunrs out the news station put it up on twitter, and re retweeted it with just two words. “I’m right.”

Meanwhile on the other side of Gotham Dick is dying of laughter as he discovered the most hilarious news clip on the planet and proceeded to send it to every single person in his contacts and to every group chat that he’s in, just in case he didn’t have someone’s contact number saved.

He even found the clip being retweeted by the same guy who claims that he’s still right with someone else tagging it #plsdon’tkillhimmr.redhoodsir.

He was making fun of Jason for it especially because turns out his brother knows the guy in real life.

“Grayson what does he even mean when he says smash?” Damain asked as Tim and Dick were making fun of Jason at the cave.

“I have to agree with Damain. The video makes know sense,” Bruce agreed.

“I’m not explaning this,” Tim quickly grabbed his coffee and walked out of the batcave.

“No it!” Jason declared running upstairs, face fully red, Dick not far behind him.

“Why is it always me,” Duke groaned as Bruce wayne lifted a questioning eye brow up at him.

“Please don’t make me explain it,” Duke begged, but sadly when Bruce Wayne wants to know something he will know something.

“Keep making fun of me for this and I will no longer show up to family dinner,” Jason glared at his older brother.

“Aww. You know you can’t avoid Alfred forever,” Dick teased.

“Shit you’re right,” Jason groaned, knowing he was going to have to put up with his brother’s teasing no matter what.

Before anyone knew it Wednesday was upon them, which meant that Danny and Jason finished their only shared class and walked out together to get lunch.

“So did you see your famous news clip?” Jason asked, not able to look Danny in the eye.

“Yeah. I swear this I say the craziest shit when I’m sleep deprived. I stand by what I said though,” Danny got up from the table to grab his order.

“You’re not worried about Red Hood finding out or anything?” Jason asked, seeing a chaotic look within Danny’s eyes.

“Jason, I want nothing more than for Red Hood to come and find me. Hopefully then I’ll get my wish,” Danny smirked up at him, hoping his friend would catch on to the signs.

“Well one can always hope,” Jason gave an awkward laugh as Danny sighed.

Jason may be a bat, but Danny has a feeling that he’s as hopeless as he is when it comes to picking up on romantic cues. At this rate, it’s going to take a miracle to get Jason to realize that yes Danny has feelings for him.

@help-i-need-a-cool-username @spookytragedyshark @weirdfishy @meira-3919 @akikkobara @yjfk@shorterthanadverage@mistyaltair @seraphinedemort@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit@thatonegaybitch68@fuck-you-too-world@stargirl1331@blackrabbitt3t@staresatyoufromaccrosstheroom@f-theworld

I think that was everyone that wanted to be tagged. I personally feel like this could you a second chapter. If I ever do decide to do that then I would definitely add more Jason moments than just having him in here at the last moment.

[junicult]

!! going down on the bachelors

contains ; fem!farmer. nsfw. oral (m!receiving). suggestive content. praise!!! went a little crazy in harvey’s mb (i’m not sorry on the slightest). public sex (?). lmk if i’m missing some. not proofread!

harvey.

- first and foremost, this man is a giver.

- he’s extremely loving, and affectionate, already spending every night praising every inch of you.

- it’s rare you ever go down on him.

- it’s not that you don’t want to, you always offer, but he hardly gives you the chance.

- so when he comes home after a long, hard day, a limp smile on his face while he kisses you hello, it’s easy to tell it’s been a bad day.

- “i’m just tired, sweetheart. i feel much better now that i’m with you.” he smiles, trying to reassure you but unfortunately it doesn’t work and you’re just frowning.

- you force him to keep his hands still when he tries to help you finish up your daily tasks.

- as opposed to his usual of making you dinner, he gets to sit back and be pampered by you.

- after dinner, and after he takes a long shower (your orders), he gets to fall into your awaiting arms.

- running your fingers through his hair, kissing his cheek, whispering, “is there anything i can do to make you feel better?”

- “you’ve already done enough, my love. i’ll be fine.” he tries to throw on a chuckle to ease your tone, but you’re not having it.

- he’s confused when your persistence sounds a little different then what he’s used to.

- it only takes him until your hand gently presses against his clothed crotch, for him to understand what you mean.

- and of course he doesn’t say no, but his throat is closing at the sight of you going down to your knees.

- his breath hitches a lot.

- eyebrows pinching, weakly sitting up at the end of the bed with his low lids trained on you.

- “yeah, i feel so much better,” in a shaky sigh.

- he usually tries his best to watch you, a sight that makes him literal putty, but it becomes hard when his eyes grow heavy.

- he keeps his hands tight around the sheets. even if you like when he grabs your hair, he always gets too nervous.

- “y’so good at this, mmhm, know just what i need.”

- PORN.

- sucking his dick is so hot cus he’s so hygienic and he looks so fucking good while you’re doing it.

- his cheeks get so red.

- glasses fogging up. tehe.

- when he cums, he cums a LOT. he normally cums down your throat, but this time he needed to see his cum on your tongue and cheeks.

- he may as well be a dead man. you probably just killed him.

- cleans u up after <3

- wants to return the favor so badly, you have no idea.

- if you won’t let him that night, just know as soon as u have sex next he’s going to TAKE. HIS. TIME!!!

sam.

- definitely loses his mind whenever you go down on him.

- it’s pretty often when you do, so he’s no stranger to the sensation but he’ll never get tired of it.

- sometimes he just occasionally asks during casual conversation.

- he knows to read the room though, obviously not if you’re exhausted or upset, he’d never ask such a thing.

- will never be upset if you don’t want to. i cant stress this enough. he’s such a sweetheart.

- but when you do he goes crazy.

- literally so sensitive. you could hardly graze his tip with your thumb before he’s shuddering.

- like i once said, he’s so vocal. expect so much praise your ears go numb.

- “nggh, fuck fuck fuck, baby. you know just what to do—shit, like that.”

- head thrown back, hands loosely raveled in your hair.

- his cheeks also get so red, not because he’s embarrassed, but because you get him so hot and bothered.

- whimpering like a mf. near tears in his eyes.

- he’s breathing so heavily the closer he gets to cumming.

- “‘m gonna cum, nnh—where do you want me?”

- slowly moving his hips subconsciously.

- goes literally insane when you swallow, losing all strength in his arms that held him up until he collapses back onto the bed.

- throws his arm over his eyes, takes at least 2 minutes to catch his breath.

- he always wants to return the favor,

- so maybe sit on his face. he’s too exhausted to move.

shane.

- his favorite.

- it’s strange to him, because he’s not foreign to receiving head but for some reason you’re just exponentially better.

- it might be because you took the time figure out what he likes, so that’s why you’re so good.

- he’s probably an exhibitionist ngl.

- like, you guys are all over each other in the saloon, tipsy and stupid and already rushing to the bathroom.

- on your knees the minute you push into a stall, fumbling with his belt.

- he’s already groaning, just by your eagerness.

- he has so much precum. literally dripping off of his tip.

- loses his mind when you kitten lick his tip while looking up at in his eyes.

- “such a slut, so eager, fuck,” his voice low and breathy.

- grabs all of your hair and holds it into a messy ponytail, with a little force against the back of your head.

- “mm, yeah you like that, don’t you?”

- he has such sensitive balls. literally chokes if you touch them.

- thrusting into your mouth the closer he gets to cumming.

- his jaw is hanging low, quiet grunts from his mouth while watching you take all of him.

- messyyyyyy.

- literally deepthroating him, of course there’s gonna be spit all around the sides of your mouth and on his cock.

- only makes him so much harder he’s aching.

- he usually likes to push you away before he cums and fucks you instead, but if you insist on just giving him a blowjob, he’s cumming all over your tits. trust.

- or completely down your throat, but just the sight of his cum all over your chest could be enough to get him hard again.

sebastian.

- i touched on this for my last post,

- but i needed to continue. i’m sorry.

- before you, no one has ever sucked his dick before.

- so getting him off isn’t a hard task in the slightest if anything.

- he’ll never ask you to suck his dick. he’s not shy, he just doesn’t wanna be rejected.

- but that doesn’t mean he won’t hint at it.

- while you’re making out, messily and feeling him all over,

- he’s faintly whimpering, pressing his hard on into your thigh to make you feel what you’re doing to him.

- “please,” so quietly you almost miss it until your hand presses against his crotch and he moans.

- after teasing him with a, “what? what do you want me to do?” and “just say it, baby,” you’re finally going to where he needs you to be.

- he sighs like he’s in literal heaven the minute your hand wraps around his length.

- he’s so hard, aching to the touch and so, so sensitive.

- he has a long, thin vein down the side of his cock that literally has him trembling the second your tongue drags alongside it.

- holds his hand over his mouth, face flushed, beet red while he attempts to muffle his moans.

- his jaw locks in a silent scream the minute you take him on your mouth entirely.

- eyebrows threaded, stuttering a breathy, “h-holy s-shit,” while his fists become white from the grip on the sheets.

- subconsciously bucks his hips into your mouth just slightly when he feels like he’s going to cum.

- he’s literally drooling. eyes rolled back, limbs weary and trembling.

- cums so fucking much too. likes to cum down your throat, especially when you swallow.

- won’t be offended if you don’t.

- but this man’s refractory period is so short. give him five minutes, tease him one more time, and he can give you as much more as you want.

alex.

- he’s always horny.

- give him any sign of u being so as well, and he’s latching onto you.

- always starts with some sort of touching.

- like cuddling, watching tv together after work or lying in bed before falling asleep.

- goes fucking insane when you climb over him and softly kiss your way down to his boxers.

- rests against the headboard so he can watch you, but he’s also able to fully relax.

- one arm resting on his neck, the other on the back of your head.

- head pusher.

- but not in a gross way. more like a, “i know you can do better then that” way.

- “nnhg, yeah, just like that baby. doing so well,”

- his eyes roll back when you take him entirely.

- the thing abt alex tho is he has so much stamina, so making him cum just by a blowjob is kind of challenging. ur mouth will start to hurt.

- so usually, you suck him off as more of a warm up.

- it has nothing to do with you doing a bad job, cus believe me you’ll have him w his head back, groaning and muttering profanities.

- it entirely has to do with you getting sore LMFAO

- but on the occasion he does get close quicker, he becomes so intoxicating.

- “oh, fuck baby, you’re so close. almost there, just a bit more…nngh so perfect for me.”

- “yeah that’s it, doing so good for me sweetheart just a little more…”

- omfg.

- he cums so fucking much, and all down your throat.

- smiles at you after you’re done and your fucked out face, makeup smeared and eyes teary.

- “you did it baby, ‘m so proud of you.”

elliot.

- such a gentleman.

- once again, it’s probably rare you’d suck his dick. he’s more fixated on your pleasure then his own.

- but on the occasion you do…haha.

- it’s probably because he’s stressed, just like harvey.

- writers block, his music isn’t helping at all, and he’s just in a slump that you hate to see.

- doesn’t wanna tell you about it though, but it’s so obvious there’s something off.

- he’s not very closed off, so if you ask him about it, he’ll tell you.

- and that’s when you offer.

- “oh, honey you don’t have to do that.” he chuckles, brushing it off like you were just wondering.

- but when you show little persistence, telling him you really want to, he’s not going to deny.

- he’s so so sooooo gentle.

- looking down at you, softly pushing your hair out of your face and holding your cheek.

- he’s so sweet. lets you do everything at your own pace, no matter how horny he is.

- super sensitive too.

- and he can cum so quickly, especially when you wrap your hand around the base while sucking the rest.

- “oh juuusstt like that, my love. you know me so well.”

- breathy sighs, and his throats closing when he’s getting closer to cumming.

- usually cums down your throat too, and then he’ll makeout with you after.

- is fs returning the favor if you let him.

[five-rivers]

vacation in camazotz

@rgbyshipper101

.

“... keeps going like this, he’s going to end up dropping the house into another dimension again.”  Danny sighed heavily.  

“Well, that’s not really fair,” said Sam.  

“Huh?  What do you mean?” asked Danny, blinking blankly at her.  “That’s definitely a thing he did.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t totally him.”

“He was pretty tangential, actually,” said Tucker.  “Unless there’s something you aren’t telling us?”

“I… haven’t I told you about the time he sent the house into a parallel dimension?”

“You didn’t exactly need to.  We were all there.”

“No,” said Danny.  “What are you guys talking about?”

“Yes, we were.  The whole town was there,” said Tucker.  

“You know,” prompted Sam.  “Vlad pawning the Ring of Rage off on Valerie, you pulling Fright Knight’s sword out of the ground, Pariah Dark.”

“Yeah, you’re more related to us winding up in the Ghost Zone than your dad is.”

“Ooohhhh, I get what’s going on.  You’re thinking of a completely different time.  The time I’m talking about is way back in sixth grade.”

Sam’s gamer cave (she did not call it that, but that’s what it was) went quiet enough that the faint hum of the computer screens could be heard.  

“Your dad sent you guys to another dimension when you were in sixth grade,” said Sam, spinning her chair around and pointing a painted fingernail at Danny.

“Yeah,” said Danny.

“Three years before your whole…”  She waved her hand at him.  “Thing.”

“Before you got zapped, she means,” said Tucker.

“Yeah.  So?”

“So,” said Sam, “why is that, even though you knew alternate dimensions were a thing and your dad could get you there, you didn’t believe in ghosts and were okay with walking into the portal?”

“Okay, but, look,” said Danny.  He put his controller to one side.  “That’s– That’s a false equivalency.”

“Spending time with Jazz, I see,” said Tucker.  He was now the only one still playing the game.  

“Shut up,” said Danny.  “I know stuff without Jazz telling me about it.  But just because one unbelievable thing is true, that doesn’t mean that all unbelievable things are true.  Besides, the dimension we wound up in was way different from the Ghost Zone.  Had nothing to do with ghosts at all.  Definitely not something you look at and then go, ah, yes, ghosts exist.”

“But you knew that other dimensions existed.  Even if there weren’t ghosts on the other side of the portal, you still could’ve realized that it could take you to another dimension.”

“But it didn’t do that.  It just half killed me.”

“By opening a portal to another dimension in you.”

“And?”

Sam glared at him.  “You’re just playing dumb at this point.”

“Neither of you are playing anything, and I think at this point we can just say that Danny’s dumb.”  Tucker’s computer let out a little jingle as his character completed a quest.  

“Hey!  Most of their stuff doesn’t work,” said Danny, exasperated.  

“But you were messing around with something that they had made work before.  Didn’t you think that could be dangerous?  Or have consequences?  Drop you in yet a different dimension?  Something?”

“They said it didn’t work.  I believed them.  And you guys kept hassling me about it.”

“Someone skipped out on the ‘don’t give in to peer pressure’ PSAs,” said Tucker, singsong.  

“You are not innocent here, Tucker!  We’ve all done dumb stuff.  Can we drop it?  I thought we were playing games today, not playing ‘gang up on Danny for stuff we all did.’”

“Fine,” said Sam.  She picked her controller back up.  Danny picked his up a second later. 

They continued playing the game.  

Then Sam dropped her controller again, this time in her lap.  “Okay, actually, this is going to bother the heck out of me if I don’t know.  How did your Dad drop the house in an alternate dimension?”

“And what was it like?” added Tucker.  He, of course, kept his eyes on the game.  

“What was it like…” said Danny, contemplative.  He made his character run around in circles.  “How to explain?”

“Start with how you got there,” said Sam.  “Go from there.”

“Okay.  Well.  It started off– It was pretty normal.  You know.”

“Uh, no,” said Tucker.  “Sending your house to another dimension is not normal.”

“Normal for them.  For my parents.”

“Define normal here.  Like, describe it,” said Tucker.  

“Working on the portal.”

Sam let out a slow, exasperated sigh.  “Really, Danny?”

“Well, it was that or weapons.  Do you think their weapons teleported us to another dimension?”

“They could’ve.  The bazooka does,” said Tucker.  

“Fair,” said Danny.  “But, like, they were working on the portal, but then they were going over some of the math - it was wrong, obviously - and they saw that there was, like, there was a, um.  There was an ‘interesting result.’  Supposedly, distance fell out of the equation if you had the right inputs.  Something like that.”

“Which means… what?” asked Sam.  

“They thought they could make a teleporter.”

“What!”  Tucker finally whirled away from his monitor.  “They have a teleporter?  They made a teleporter?”

“No.  That’s the whole point.  No teleporter.  They messed it up.  But, like, they built what they thought was a teleporter.  And, of course, as soon as they built it, they had to use it.  Mom wanted to do small tests, sending an apple back and forth or something, but Dad decided to jump right into teleporting the entire house, because it was vacation time.”

“Yeah, okay, that sounds like your dad,” said Tucker.  

“Doesn’t it?  Which is why I’m worried now, because it’s the same thing all over again, he keeps getting too excited and then doesn’t slow down to make sure things work the way they’re supposed to.”

“You have no right to criticize that, Mr. Walks Into a Portal and Dies,” said Sam.  

“I think I’m the only one who does have the right to criticize it.”

“And the dimension?” asked Tucker.  “I want to know about the alternate dimension.”

“Right,” said Danny.  “Well, when Dad ‘teleported’ us, we knew things were wrong pretty much right away.  You guys have read a Wrinkle in Time, right?”

“Sure,” said Sam.  

“Yeah,” said Tucker.  “It was assigned last year, wasn’t it?”

“Right, so, you know the planet with the brain?  It was– It was kind of like that.”  His character died and he sighed.  “I suck at multitasking.  It wasn’t even just the stuff, it was, like, the air was flat.  The texture of everything was wrong.  Everything was… fake?  Like a performance, except it was the whole world.  Everyone just had these smiles on their faces but they were… empty.”

Sam propped her head up on her fist.  “Your parents sent you to play outside and didn’t notice any of that, didn’t they?”

“They did.  But they did notice stuff.  Like, all the houses being the same, the creepy sky–”

“The sky was creepy?”

“Super creepy.  It was like.  Segmented.  Triangles.  Like we were inside a pyramid.  And all the roofs were also pyramids, now that I think about it.  Just, pyramids everywhere.  Really pointy ones.  Oh!  And gravity was also a pyramid.”

“What?” asked Sam.  

“Gravity was a pyramid.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It was a pyramid.  Gravity.”

“Okay, okay, I think I’ve got this,” said Tucker.  “What shape is gravity here?”

“It’s round,” said Danny, “duh.”

“It’s round, so there you go, Sam,” said Tucker.  

“It is round,” said Danny.  “Like, gravitational fields, they’re round.  But they were pyramids there.”

“Wow,” said Sam.  “I wouldn’t have expected that.  Pyramids.”

“See?  Ghost Zone is totally different.”

“Yep,” said Tucker.  His computer let out another chime.  “By the way, you guys owe me soda now.”“How did you do that?” complained Danny.  “You weren’t even looking at the screen!”

[samandcolbyownme]

in the works of Sabrina carpenter please please please give me a Sam enemies to lovers fic

Warnings: strong language, mentions of weapons (guns, knives), injuries, dark business aesthetic, mentions of drugs, drinking, name calling, toxic relationship between reader and boyfriend, toxic actions, enemies to lovers, angsty, kissing

Word Count: 4.7k | unedited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Ever since day one, out of all of Geo’s employees, Sam was the one that got under your skin the most.

He was an asshole. Always had something to say, and it was usually never anything good, or nice. Mostly snobby and eye roll provoking.

He’s been with Geo since he started this whole thing.

All of you sat pretty on piles of money, you really only had to worry about two things - if a body needed to disappear and if the police were involved.

Geo owned a casino in Las Vegas, which was mainly party in the front and business in the back, behind closed doors of course.

People would come, pick up what they needed, paid, and left.

“Baby. Pass me that tray.” Geo reaches back and snaps his fingers, “Now please.”

You reach forward, grabbing the tray from the table and you hand it to him. He takes it and sets it down in front of him.

“You’re welcome.” You mumble as you go back to looking at your magazine.

“What was that?” He turns around, giving you a look and you shake your head, “Nothing, this mag-“

“Mhm.” He turns back around, talking with his associates as he rolls up a blunt, “So as I was saying..”

You take a deep breath, shaking your head as you flip to the next page. The door open and you look up, rolling your eyes when Sam walks through with Colby.

You avoid looking at him, but you listen in to what he’s saying, “Hey boss, Cartermen is outside, he wants to speak to you.”

“That fucker owes me money. Does he have it?” Geo leans back in his chair, staring at Sam and Sam shrugs, “I don’t know, I-“

“How the fuck don’t you fuckin’ know?” Geo scoffs, “Fuck, your job isn’t that hard.”

You glance at Sam, you did feel bad for how Geo treated him - sometimes.

Sam sighs, “He keeps saying that he won’t talk to anyone but you. I’ve asked hi- Colby and I both asked him if he has it and he refuses to speak.”

“Tell him if he doesn’t have my money, he’s a dead man walking.” Geo laughs, “What’s the main rule when working with me, baby?”

“Geo always gets paid.” You look at him and he points his thumb towards you, “Now with that, go back out there, and tell him if he comes in here, I’ll have to call Lowen and I don’t want to have to wake him up at this hour.”

“Yes, boss.” Sam gives you one last glance and you give him a disgusted look before looking back at your magazine.

You hear the door click shut and Geo goes back to talking to the men across from him.

Not even a minute later, there’s commotion outside and a bang on the door.

“God fucking damn, don’t they know I’m in a fuckin’ meeting?” Geo grumbles as he gets up. As he walks over to the door, it flings open and Geo lays his hand on the gun being held to his body by his belt, “What the fuck!?”

“You can’t-“ Colby grabs Cartermen, “Dude. You really shouldn’t be in here.”

“You better be here to deliver my money.” Geo walks over to him, grabbing his collar, “Do you have my money?”

The look on the guys face goes cold as he leans in, “Just fuckin’ kill me, Geo.” He glances towards you, “You and that slut over there can both go. To. Hell.”

Geo doesn’t even bother sticking up for you, but that’s nothing normal. You’ve been in the game long enough to know that you just brush it off.

“The fuck did you just say? I’m not getting my money? Is that what I heard.” Geo tilts his head and Cartermen laughs, “Yeah. That’s basically what I fuckin’ said.”

You lay your magazine down, getting ready to duck and cover if things go south.

“I don’t think you need to do this here, boss. Want us to take him to the-“ Colby is cut off by Sam, “If you’re saying that because she’s in here, she knows she’ll see shit like this.”

“Ignore her. She’s nothing in this situation right now.” Geo shakes his head, pulling his gun out to rest it under Cartermen’s chin, “I’m going to ask you.. one more time.. where is my-“

“Fuck y-“

You hear the tunk of the silenced gun go off and Sam and Colby let his body drop to the ground.

You swallow, tensing up as Geo turns towards you, “Call Lowen. I can’t deal with him right now.” Geo tucks his gun back into his jeans and sits back down.

You grab your phone and dial Lowen, leaning back on the couch as the line rings.

“This better be fucking good.”

“There’s a body for you. Back office of the Royale.” You look up at the ceiling, “Sam and Colby are on, they can help.”

“Be there in twenty.”

The line clicks and you look over, “He’ll be here in twenty.”

Sam scoffs, “Why the hell would you say I’ll help? I have to go collect a payment from Mr. Moore, y/n.”

“Um..” you tilt your head, “Because you’re here, Sam? You do realize that you have more than one job, right?”

Sam rolls his eyes and looks at Geo, “Do you want me to-“

“Do whatever you want, Golbach. I have to figure this out with them. Like I’ve been trying to do for an hour now.” Geo lights up the blunt and takes a drag, “Take y/n home. She doesn’t need to be here.”

Sam smirks as he watches your face drop. You stand up, walking up behind Geo, “Baby, I can st-“

“Home. Now.” Geo brushes your hands off of his shoulders and you tilt your head, “Will you be home tonight?”

“Probably, I don’t fucking know, just go.”

You grab your bag from the couch and walk over to the door, not giving Sam another look.

“Make sure Moore has my money. If not, you know what you need to do. Colby, you can help Lowen.” Geo gives the orders and Sam walks out, closing the door behind him.

He looks at you and shakes his head, “You better not bitch the whole way home.”

“Even better, I won’t say a goddamn word.” You watch as he walks past you before you follow him out the back of the casino.

Sam walks around and gets in the drivers seat, starting the car while you get in to sit beside him.

You furrow your brows, “My house is that way.” You point, to the right as he turns left, and he keeps his stare straight, “Thought you weren’t going to speak?”

“Well, when I’m going someplace other than home, I’m not just going to sit here and let it fucking happen? I’m not dumb.”

“I never said you were.” Sam glances at you and you roll your eyes, “If you’re taking me with to get this money, I’m staying in the car.”

“I expected that.”

“What’s your problem?” You look at Sam, “Like, seriously? Why are you such an asshole?”

“Because I have to be.”

“You have to be?” You scoff, “Not really, but okay. Cool.” You shake your head and look out the window, “I just..” you laugh, “I just want to know what I did to deserve you always giving me a snarky or bullshit remark.”

He shrugs, “I don’t have an answer for that.”

“Liar.”

Sam stops the car abruptly, causing you to jolt forward, “Sam. What the fuck?”

“You can call me anything you want, y/n. Okay? But let’s get one thing straight.” He stares into your eyes, “I’m not a fucking liar.”

You just stare back at him, “Next time, you don’t have to almost cause an accident to try and prove yourself to me.” You unbuckle to unlock your seatbelt and click it back into the buckle.

“I’m not a liar.”

“Okay, Sam.” You nod, “You’re not a liar, but you’re still an asshole.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just starts driving, and soon, after an achingly silent ride, you arrive to the Moore business and Sam goes inside.

You’ve been on pick ups like this before, so you weren’t really nervous, but your nervousness was peaked when Sam didn’t come out after a certain amount of time.

You were anxiously bouncing your leg, looking all around for anyone who might approach the car.

You knew that wirh being Geo’s girl, people would get desperate and potentially use you as way to get out of paying. That hasn’t happened, and you were grateful, but it still sat in the back of your mind.

You let out a sigh of relief when you see Sam come out with a bag.

He gets in, tossing it in the back and he immediately starts driving again.

“Did it go okay?” You ask, looking over at him.

He nods, “Yeah, fine.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Why do you care?”

“I just.. you didn’t come out within the time you normally do.. I just didn’t know if-“

Sam cuts you off, “You were worried about me?” He chuckles, glancing over at you, “Weren’t you?”

“No, I just, didn’t want to jump the gun and call Geo or anything, you know.. I seem to be causing a lot of issues lately.” You raise your brows and sigh, “I don’t know how.”

After a few minutes of silence, Sam breaks it, “It’s not you.”

You nod, “Mm.”

“He’s just, under a lot right now, trying to get this new business deal going. And Cartermen coming in the way he did. He’s just stressed.”

“So, what you’re saying is, fuck my feelings? I need to suck it up?” You laugh, “Figures.”

“No. No. That’s not..” he sighs, “Nevermind.”

“No, what?”

“No, you don’t want to listen so.” Sam pulls into your driveway, driving up the circle to the walkway to the door, “You’re home.”

“I see that.” You reach down to grab your bag, “Thanks.” You go to reach for the door but Sam grabs your arm.

You look at his hand and up at his face, pulling your arm away, “What?”

“Geo is good to you, right?”

You furrow your brows, “Why would you even ask something like that? Yeah, he’s fine. We’re fine.”

He nods, “okay.”

You get out, slamming the door shut before you walk up to the door. You push your door open and glance back, watching Sam leave your driveway.

Why would Sam ask me something like that?

You shake away the thought and take a deep breath, thinking about how, yeah, he’s good to you. But, sometimes he can raise his voice at you, or he can throw his dinner plate when he gets a bad phone call and you’re the one stuck cleaning up the broken shards of glass.

Or to where you’re silently crying in the bathroom because he comes home and ignores you like you aren’t even there, and then have to pull it together when he’s ready for bed and wants you.

But the good, outweighs the bad.. right?

You’re snapped from your thoughts as your phone rings. You take it out of your bag and answer, “Hey baby. Sam just dropped me off.”

“He texted me. Just wanted to make sure, I should be home by eight tonight, hopefully no later. This deal is on the verge of going through so.” Geo sighs, “I’ll tell you about it tonight. Have dinner ready by seven thirty, Sam, Colby, and Maurice are coming over to celebrate so make sure you set three extra places.”

“Sounds good. Anything in particular you want, baby?”

“Whatever, just make it good. I gotta go. Love you, baby.”

“I love you.”

The line beeps and you take a deep breath as you check the time.

04:36pm

You set your stuff down and walk to the kitchen, getting out the good plates and taking them to the table, along with the matching silverware.

You set out a glass of whiskey and three glasses by Geo’s place at the table, and go to the kitchen to start dinner.

As soon as you set the last dish of food on the table, the door swings open, chatter and laughter following through as Geo and the guys walk in.

“Y/n, this place smells so good.” Colby walks up to you, glancing behind you at the table, “You did good.” He smiles at you and shrugs off his jacket.

Sam doesn’t say a word to you. He just walks over and sits down next to Colby.

Geo walks up to you, “Baby, this is Maurice. He’s agreed to partner with us, do you know what this means?”

You shrug, “No, but I would love for you to tell me.” You smile and Geo slings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in to kiss your temple, “More money, my love.”

He motions to Maurice, “Maur, this is y/n.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” You smile and shake his hand. He nods, “Please, the pleasure is all mine.” He looks around, “You have a beautiful home, G.”

“Thank you, sir. Please.” He spins around and motions to the chair next to him, “Have a seat, I’ll pour us all a drink.”

Geo sits down and you walk down to your end of the table, sitting there in silence while they talk about the deal.

If you left, you didn’t think anyone would notice, but unbeknownst to you, Sam would be the first to notice.

“Baby, baby.” Geo motions for you and you get up, walking down to his chair. He pulls you onto his lap and shakes his head, “Where would you like to go on vacation?”

“Vacation? Can we do that now?”

“I didn’t ask for you to pick apart the question, y/n.” Geo laughs, “I asked you to pick a place.”

You glance at Sam and he raises his brows. You look back at Geo, “I’ve always wanted to visit Tahiti.”

“Tahiti it is.” He raises his glass, along with the other three and as soon as he downs his drink, you’re nudged off his lap.

You walk back to your chair and sit down to finish your dinner.

After dinner, when it’s all quiet and just the two of you, Geo walks up behind you while you’re doing the dishes, “Did you really have to do that in front of Maurice?”

“I’m sorry.” You glance back at him as you’re rinsing the bubbles off of the glass.

“Why can’t you just answer the questions I ask you with out analyzing everything?”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, baby.” You swallow because you know that was the flame to the fuse.

“What did you just say?”

You can feel his eyes in the back of your head, “Turn around and look at me.”

You turn the water off and spin around, “I said, I think you’ve had enough to drink, G.”

He smiles, but it wasn’t a regular smile, “You don’t..” he shakes his head while he laughs, “You don’t get to tell me what I’ve had enough of. Alright? Who makes the money in this relationship?”

“You do.”

“Huh? Sorry, couldn’t hear through the mumbling.”

“You do.” You speak up, looking right at him, “You make the money, okay? And I’m sorry that I pick apart each question you ask, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

He nods, finishing his glass before abruptly throwing it against the wall, “Today was a good day.” He shakes his head, “And I’m going to go to bed before it’s tainted anymore.”

You nod, walking up to peck his cheek, “Goodnight.”

You turn to grab a bag and some paper towels before you walk over and start picking up the glass shards.

You glance over your shoulder, seeing him walk away and once you look back at the ground, you feel the tears start to run down your cheeks. You quickly wipe them away on your shoulder and lay the glass on the towel in the bag.

As you’re picking up the shards, a piece scratches the palm of your hand and you wince, watching the blood drip to the floor before you get up and walk to the sink.

You hold it under cool water, letting out a sigh before turning off the water. You fix up your hand and finish cleaning up the glass and turn to walk into the living room.

You stop, instantly hiding your hand behind you when when you see Sam standing outside the sliding glass door.

You walk over, unlocking it and sliding it open, “What do you want?” You whisper, looking up at him, “Geo is upstairs. He went to bed.”

“I’m not here to see him.”

“There’s no one else here so-“

“Would you stop that?” He shakes his head, “You always act like people don’t want to see you, too.”

“They usually don’t. They’re always here for Geo.” You step outside, keeping your hand hid behind you.

Sam furrows his brows and he points, “What’s wrong with your hand?” You shake your head, “Nothing, why?”

“Why are you hiding it?” Sam crosses his arms and you sigh, “I dropped a glass, a piece got my palm while I was putting it into the bag, it’s nothing, Sam.” You look at him, “Is this why you’re here? To check on my hands?”

“No, I’m here to check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?” He tilts his head, “I saw the way he treated you at dinner, and I just..”

He stops and you furrow your brows, “You just.. what?”

He shakes his head, “Nothing. You clearly seem fine, so I’m just going to go before he wakes up and has an issue with me.”

“Wait, Sam.”

He holds his hand up as he continues to walk away. You huff, “Fine. Continue to be a fucking asshole.”

He spins around, “That’s all I’ll ever be, right?”

He turns back, leaving you alone on the patio. You stand there for a few seconds, looking up at the sky before Geo coming down the steps catches your attention.

You walk back in and turn around, “Can’t sleep?”

“Come to bed, baby.” He holds his hand out and you swallow, walking over to him to take his hand with yours.

“What happened?” He holds your bandaged hand up and looks at you, and you shake your head, “Nothing.”

“Baby.” He gives you a look and you sigh, “A piece of glass cut my hand, but really. Baby. It’s nothing.” You point to the stairs, “Let’s go to bed.”

You hated how on and off he was, but at the end of the day, you really had no way out of this, no where to go.

You change into your pajamas. Walking over to lay down on the bed, facing away from Geo. He crawls into bed behind you, liquor still heavy on his breath as he presses a kiss to your cheek, “Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight.” You stare at the wall, breathing steadily as your mind is too wired to settle down.

All you can think of is why Sam would show up, and then leave like he did.

Did he care about you?

You knew those questions would go unanswered, so you just shoved them to the back of your mind and forced yourself to sleep.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You stayed home the next day, you didn’t really do much.

You watched a few movies, made lunch for you and Geo, but you ended up eating alone because he never came home. He called, telling you that Lowen had to get called in, so he won’t be home.

You didn’t mind. After last nights escapades, you needed time for yourself.

It was settling in around six o’clock and you heard a car pulling up into the driveway. You ordered dinner, so you expect that to be the car you heard, but everything shifted when the front door slammed open and Geo came walking towards you.

“What the fuck have you been telling people?”

“Wh- nothing, baby. I haven’t talked to anyone.” You shake your head, “What happened?”

Your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest, “Geo, baby.” You reach out for him but he slaps your hand away, “One of my employees, told me I was being too hard on you.”

He laughs, “Which is actually fucking bullshit because if I wanted do be hard on you, I’d put you out on your ass.”

“I haven’t said anything, really. I-I don’t know why they would even say something like that.. you treat me the best anyone has.”

“Cut the bullshit.” He stares at you, “If anyone, I mean anyone says anything else to me about you not being treated right, I’ll make sure the lies they’re spreading around become true.” He raises his brows, “You hear me?”

You reach up, pushing your hands into his chest, “You’re scaring me..”

“Good. Maybe you’ll learn to act right.” He steps back, “Pointing to your hand, “Take off that bandage. It looks ridiculous.”

You snap, “Maybe I wouldn’t have cut my hand if you didn’t throw that fucking glass against the wall last night.”

He stares at you, slowly building up laughter, “So it’s my fault you’re clumsy?” He shakes his head, “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to do anything right.”

“Fuck you.” You go to walk towards the steps but he grabs you, slamming you against the wall, “What did you just say?”

“I said, fuck you. I’m done.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” He steps back, “I have to go back to work now, but I’ll be home about seven, seven thirty. If you leave, I’ll find you. Have dinner ready, and we can talk about this, okay?”

You knew what you were doing to do, so you just nod, “Okay.” You lick your lips, “Anything specific?”

He shakes his head, “Make whatever you want.” He pinches your chin, “I’ll be back.”

He walks away, giving you one last look before he closes the door

Instant panic.

Did Sam say something?

You slide down the wall and pull your phone from your pocket. You stare at the screen, unable to think about what to do.

Who do you call? You don’t really have anyone.

You dial Colby, shakily bringing the phone up to your ear as the line rings.

“What’s up?”

“C-Colby.. are you around Geo?”

“No, he left pretty pissed off, I don’t know about what. But, what’s up?”

“I-I-“ you break down into tears, followed by instant word vomit, “He’s mad because he thinks I’m telling people what happened here when I’m n-not..”

“What. Happened?” Colby asks slowly and you gasp for air, “H-he came home, screamed at me, threw me against the wall when I tried to leave and he said that if I left he-“ you lay your hand over your she’s, “Wou-would find me.”

“Are you okay?” Colby asks, “Really, he didn’t do anything else did he?”

“N-no.” You rest your head back against the wall, “I just didn’t know who else to call. Sam I think hates me, and I don’t know the others as well as you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, y/n. It’ll be okay. I promise.” Colby’s voice lowers and he speaks quickly, “Gotta go.”

He hangs up and you get a notification on your phone that your food was delivered. You can’t help but laugh through the tears.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Your eyes scan over the food on the table, watching it grow cold over time.

You dial Geo, again. No answer.

You set your phone down, getting up to reheat the food so it’s warm for when he finally comes home, and there’s a knock on the door.

You freeze, as it could be anyone, especially after what happened with Geo.

The knock happens again and you jump into the kitchen, pressing your back against the wall. You bring your phone up, and a text from Sam comes through, Open the door.

Your heart skips a beat and you run to the front door.

A part of you felt like this was a trick, but then another part hopes it was just him.

And it was.

You opened the door, gasping when you see a broken and bruised Sam puffing on a cigarette.

You gasp, “Oh my god, Sam.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go.”

You shake your head, watching as he flicks the done cigarette, “No, no. Come on.” You teach out, pulling him in, “What.. I don’t.. are you okay?”

He nods, “Minor injuries, y/n. I’m fine.” He goes to take his jacket off and you see a small puncture wound to his side. Your hand flies to it to add pressure, “This isn’t minor, Sam. What the fuck happened.”

He shakes his head and you sigh, “Come on.”

You lead him into the living room and help him sit down, “Don’t move.” You run upstairs to than any medical supplies you can find, and return back to Sam.

“This much hurt.” You tell him as you apply alcohol to a cotton pad, “I’m sorry.” You sit down next to him and he lays his arm over your thighs, his hand tightly gripping your hip as he groans.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know.” You look down at him and back to his cut forehead, “Can I know what happened?”

He nods, watching as you grab a clean pad and add more alcohol, “I um..” he laughs slightly, wincing in pain, “You don’t have to worry about Geo hurting you anymore.”

You freeze, quickly pulling it together to continue taking care of Sam’s injuries. You don’t say anything, as you move to new cuts and scrapes. Cleaning the dried blood off of his skin.

“I thought you hated me.” You whisper as you apply a bandage to his forehead.

His thumb strokes your thigh, “I never hated you.”

You raise your brows, “Can you.. uh. Take off your shirt please.”

He nods, sitting up and you reach down to help him lift it up over his head, “Thanks.” He whispers, leaning back, “Fuck, now this is starting to hurt.”

“Do you want something?” You go to stand up but Sam stops you, “No, just.. stay here.”

You nod and grab clean gauze to lay over the wound to his side, “I suppose Colby told you?”

“I was right there when you called. I heard it all.” Sam groans lowly as you spray some antiseptic on his wound, “As soon as he walked back through the door, I just.. went at him.” Sam looks up at you, “I’ve always hated that motherfucker.”

“So then.. why keep the job?” You patch up his side and sit back, “You would have flourished somewhere else, right?”

He shrugs, “I mean, yeah, but.. I had my reasons to stay.”

You look down, cleaning up his knuckles, “Can you, um.. what were those reasons?” You look up at him, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me you can just-“

Sam leans in, his hand moving to hold the back of your neck as his lips plant on yours.

You’re taken aback by surprise, you never in a million years pictured this moment happening.

“Sam-“ you lean back and he speaks over you, “I did it all for love. For you.”

“W-wait..” you tilt your head, “Are you saying..”

“I love you. I’ve loved you since the first day I met you. I knew how treated you bad. I stayed to make sure you were okay because I know what kind of spot you were in..” he reaches up, “But you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Your eyes move between his and you shake your head, “I think, I love you, too.”

You lean in, closing the space between you two. Your lips move in a slow, heated exchange, and he rests his forehead on yours, “We gotta get out of here.”

You nod, “I know, where will we go?”

Sam smirks, chuckling slightly as he speaks, “Tahiti?”

You laugh, nodding as you lean back, “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to go there.” He runs his hand over your head and sighs, “I know. And I’ll take you.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thank you so much for reading! I love you all so much! I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[mutable-manifestation]

Actual Scientists Jack & Maddie AU Part 4

Part 1 & 2

Part 3

Explaining The Papers (™) to Frostbite takes a While (also ™).

Though with no more imminent threat of “Vlad maybe finding out he’s the ghost king and becoming Insufferable (also also ™) about it” Danny was feeling a lot less stressed - Sam and Tucker, too, if the fact that they were actually drinking their tea now instead of just barely sipping at it was any indication - or they could’ve only just cooled enough to actually drink, the FF did tend to overestimate the level of heat they could tolerate just a tad.

Not to say that he wasn’t still stressed, given the whole “the Justice League is trying to summon ME” thing. But like. They were reaching out hoping for peace, not hoping to skin/dissect/exterminate him. 

Plus they don’t know how to summon him; he figures he has time. Hopefully enough to get Frostbite’s advice.

And mostly to cool his own nerves, because now that he knows they did try to help and are helping the Justice League is Cool again! And they want to meet him! 

Well, they want to meet the ghost king, but they already watched him! They thought he was a capable hero! 

Danny isn’t really used to getting positive feedback, so being called “good hands” by Superman - Superman! The hero! The Alien hero! (well, one of them. Martian Manhunter is also amazing but he hasn’t complimented Danny in person yet so he doesn’t have any expectations for Danny to live up to. Maybe. Hypothetically). 

The JL is so cool and they think he’s cool! Or at least capable! Except now he has to impress them not just as a hero but as a king?

Yeah.

Suffice to say, Danny is now a little nervous.

(And also maybe redirecting his nerves intentionally to be about the JL so he doesn’t have to breathe into a bag about being probably the only thing between the Zone and eventual total dimensional collapse because Frostbite was very ‘this is normal and okay’ about it but it’s eventual total dimensional collapse [ALL OF THEM] and it is Danny’s problem. But no, he’s just nervous about meeting the JL. Totally.)

Reciting pretty much his whole life story - well, the basics of his parents’ work and then pretty much everything from the portal onward - gives him time to untense, and honestly, getting it all out to a mostly uninvolved third party - one he likes and trusts - really is a weight off his shoulders.

He’ll never tell Jazz; the amount of I-told-you-so-energy she’d leech into the air would be unbearable.

Sam and Tucker tag in here and there too, and mostly take over when they get to the part where the GIW bought Fenton Works for a short while to try and destroy the zone. Danny winces at the memory of his behavior back then.

The explanation runs for longer than it could have, given the aside they make when they get to his parents’ theories. 

Frostbite is quick to confirm the combat-as-a-positive-social-behavior thing, and it turns out Sam is right about how to tell the difference.

Of course, Danny thinks they were all trying to kill him the rest of the way, but then that’s not a concern most ghosts have, so Frostbite offers his own perspective.

Skulker wants to hang his pelt on a wall: clearly unfriendly.

Technus is just having fun - enjoying playing with new technology in the living realm and throwing Danny around/being thrown around. He’s a friend. The whole world domination idea isn’t malicious as far as he’s concerned, because damage to the living realm doesn’t mean much to ghosts. What do they care about the living? What is the value of a single world as collateral when weighed against the games of ghosts? 

If Danny wants him to stop that, Frostbite tells him, he can just propose a new game.

Ember genuinely just wanted a powerboost from the Earth that first time, but her returns since are a gesture of friendship.

Spectra definitely hates him though. Which is good. He wouldn’t know how to feel if Frostbite had said that that whole mess was an attempt at friendship.

As for the thing with his parents, Frostbite compares it to winning a tournament only to find out the other participants lost intentionally. You haven’t really won a competition if the competitors were not competing. 

Like going in for a handshake only to get a “too slow” - even more insulting if it’s the first “too slow” you’ve ever gotten - Tucker suggests.

Or like asking a parent to a hug and only getting a wave. Not even a high-five.

They each go through another three cups of tea before the story winds down, Frostbite doing adding little more than the occasional nod or noise of acknowledgement - barring the social combat explanation, of course. 

It’s nice, Danny thinks, to have an adult that actually listens. Even if said adult is a dead yeti.

“You have given me much to think on Great One, Friends Sam and Tucker,” he says after the three of them finally run out of words, giving each of them a nod. “And soon, we shall have much more to discuss. First, however, it seems that I have a meeting to call. And you have living needs that require attending to yet. Eat, rest, and, if you would, return here… let’s say the day after tomorrow? Then we can begin to discuss the…issues. At hand.”

Back in the Specter Speeder, Tucker wonders aloud if “call a meeting” is code for yelling at the Observants.

Then he looks at his PDA and realizes how late it’s gotten - namely, past all of their curfews - and they promptly turn the conversation to getting their story straight (and three backups because they’re all feeling paranoid with how high-stakes everything suddenly became. Not that the occasional ghost looking to wreck earth wasn't already high-stakes, but the whole political aspect made it feel... different).

***

Danny is thankful it’s summer vacation at the moment, because the next morning is a Monday. 

He doesn’t know how he’d manage school with his mind miles away wondering about things like “how to king” and “how to maintain the fabric of reality” and other totally normal, non-stressful topics. 

Just normal high schooler things.

His parents are gone before he’s even up, leaving a note for him and Jazz on the kitchen table. 

They eat a quiet breakfast together.

The whole house is quiet. It’s unnatural, he thinks, and the small frown on Jazz’ face tells him she feels the same. 

They normally enjoy the brief lulls of quiet that their parents leave behind, but this is perhaps the first time they’ve ever missed breakfast - well, the first time they haven’t been in the house during breakfast at least. A welding torch, clanging metal, clinking glass, minor explosions, and excited shouting is the usual background noise of their morning meal - whether from the basement door or at the table itself.

This time, the silence is disquieting.

Even more so since it means that Danny could, at any time, be teleported somewhere. He really should have asked Frostbite about how that works before they left - they’d already missed curfew anyway.

After they’ve both finished eating, he takes the opportunity to fill Jazz in on the whole… everything.

She is, to put it lightly, Not Impressed.

“-s bad enough they let you fight Pariah Dark in the first place! You should never have been in that position! I know that you’re a capable fighter Danny, but you’re fourteen-”

“I’m almost fifteen,” he grumbles.

“You’re not yet fifteen,” she says, glaring into the distance, expression practically snarling. Danny thinks she might be imagining strangling an Observant, based on the… choice words she’d had for them earlier. “And they want you to be a king!”

Tucker chooses that moment to arrive, walking right into the path of where Jazz is glaring and freezing until Sam shoves him out of her way to close the door and drag him into the kitchen.

“Who spat in your cereal?” she asks, moving to sit and kicking the fourth chair out for Tucker.

“Whoever or whatever is responsible for deciding that a fourteen year old child should be king when there are no doubt numerous thousand-plus year old candidates who don’t have human lives they still need to attend to!” She bellows, throwing her hands up in frustration.

The trio exchange a glance while she takes a few calming breaths.

Danny kind of wants to point out that he isn’t a child, he’s a teenager. And she’s barely older than him.

But he does have some sense of self-preservation, even if there’s only so much self left to preserve. Heh.

Then she gasps.

“Danny! You’re still half alive!”

“Er, yes?”

“Maybe that’s why the Watching Wraiths didn’t say anything! Maybe you can’t be the Ghost King if you’re still partly alive!”

“But Frostbite said-” Tucker starts, only to be cut off by Jazz.

“Frostbite could be wrong.” She sniffs. “And even if he isn’t you there are millenia before it becomes a problem. The Zone can wait for you to graduate high school before it goes demanding things of you. Or longer.”

The words are decisive.

Still….

“The Justice League-”

“Can cope. They’ll be a little paranoid about retaliation, but a little paranoia won’t kill them. And maybe letting them stew a bit will teach them to be more active about taking down genocidal organizations before they hurt so many people.”

“That’s a great idea,” Sam says, tone saying the opposite, “except the part where they’re actively working on figuring out how to summon the ghost king - who is Danny - and are probably also going to try and make contact with Phantom at some point - who is also Danny.”

Jazz frowns.

“Well. You don’t have to be a king to talk to the Justice League. Just tell them you’re still too young - which is true - or that the coronation is going to take a long time to plan - which, according to Frostbite, would be a reasonable claim. And also true since you will not be taking the throne until you are at least 18 if the Fenton Peeler and I have anything to say about it.”

“Uh. I don’t know if the Peeler is the best idea. With your…aim.” Tucker cringes, shrinking back in his seat when her unhappy frown snaps to him.

Then she looks thoughtful.

“You know what. I’ll just use a specter deflector. You mentioned before how humans are ghosts in the ghosts zone; see if they still feel like making a child a king when they’ve got an unstrikable target punching their lights out about it.”

“Please don’t antagonize a bunch of ghosts who could try and attack you while you're sleeping,” Danny pleads.

“It’s bad enough that all this has impacted your sleep and grades and attendance records so much; I’m not going to let a bunch of ghost nobles - or whatever they’re called - mess things up for you even more. If they don’t like my proposals they can un-friendly fight me about it, and if you’re worried about retribution I can turn on the house defenses in my room when I sleep. But I am not letting this go.”

She stands.

“Since he didn’t give you a time, we’ll leave to visit Frostbite after breakfast tomorrow-”

“We?” the trio ask hesitantly.

“Of course. But for now, there’s something else we need to do, little brother.”

That said, she turns and heads for the basement.

Danny and Tucker blink at the abrupt departure, while Sam just frowns thoughtfully.

The three exchange one more meaningful glance, before sharing a shrug and moving to follow her.

They arrive in the basement to Fenton Fighting Ring rising out of the floor.

“Uh, Jazz?” Danny tries.

“We’re going to fight!”

In stark contrast to both her words and her furious demeanor upstairs, her tone and expression are bright and eager.

“Um. That’s. Nice, but you know that’s a ghost thing, right?” he offers hesitantly.

“I mean, I still fight with Dora,” Sam adds, the traitor.

“Thank you Sam,” Jazz starts. “But even without that example; you are part ghost, brother mine. That means fighting loved ones is a you thing. I love you, so of course I’m going to fight you.”

“Mom and Dad theorized - and Frostbite confirmed - that the fighting is a social behavior. Many social behaviors are also needs. Members of social species that are not allowed to socialize become stressed and their health worsens. Humans who don’t communicate with other humans for too long experience negative side effects, too little physical contact can lead to depressed mood and so forth,” she monologues as she moves into the ring.

“As you’re still half human, neglecting the social needs of your ghost half could negatively impact your wellbeing. Also. I’m your sister and I love you. If I could never hug you I’d be bummed. This is like the ghost equivalent of that. So. Square up, little brother.”

Danny is kind of touched, actually. 

Still.

“...Don’t you at least want an anti-creep stick?” he asks, gesturing at her general lack of ghost gear as he slips intangibly through the ropes around the ring.

“Nope!” She says cheerfully. “For this match we’ll be doing no powers and no weapons - just basic human strength and skill. We can try other kinds of fights later.”

Danny pales.

“No way! You’re a 4th degree black belt!”

“9th!” she corrects, still cheerfully - and she clearly means well, but for Danny that smile is beginning to look like an omen of ill fortune.

“That’s even worse!” he cries. “I’m only a blue belt! Barely!”

“I ~told~ you you should’ve stuck with mom’s training,” she sing-songs teasingly.

He cringes, but takes a stance.

“Now let's see how much you remember.”

That’s the only warning he gets before she’s in his face.

His strength, speed, stamina, endurance, and durability are all completely back to baseline in human form unless he actively uses his flight to compensate, but one thing he notes as the fight draws on is that his reaction speed is still the same.

Even so, it’s painfully obvious just how beyond him she is in terms of skill.

Without any powers to fall back on, Jazz runs circles around him like it’s nothing.

His reaction speed means that he sees everything she’s doing and that he has time to bring his arms up, but he keeps lagging trying to recall forms and getting shoved around for it, the defenses he manages too poor to be of any use. 

Other times he lags because he’s suppressing instinctual power usage.

And multiple times he accidentally, instinctively abandons proper stance all together, habitually falling into the stance of his usual “feral racoon” style of fighting - as Jazz had one called it - which isn’t much of a stance at all in a fight with no powers. Especially given how it's not made for someone fighting on the ground. She takes brutal advantage of every opening.

He’s on the back foot from the first second of the fight, and it’s obvious that it only lasted for longer than one because Jazz allowed it to, testing him.

It’s frustrating that he’s doing so poorly - he knows he’s doing poorly - but despite that, he really is having fun. 

It reminds him of the training spars at the Far Frozen - restrained skill set, fight with defined boundaries and win conditions-

Aaaaand evidently he let his mind wander too much. 

And Jazz noticed. 

And flipped him.

He’s thoroughly pinned in short order and he cannot for the life of him remember how to escape the hold short of cheating with intangibility.

“Uncle,” he calls.

Jazz pulls him to his feet and ruffles his hair.

He squawks indignantly, but she just chuckles.

"Good fight little brother," she calls as she slips between the ropes out of the ring.

"Our hero," Sam drawls as he follows.

Danny just pouts.

"That was just sad, man," Tucker ribs. "And I thought your early ghost fights were bad."

"I'd like to you do better against the 9th degree blackbelt," he grumbles.

"Don't fret, little brother. You'll improve with time," Jazz says as she rejoins them. "Though we'll have to do refreshers of all the previous levels first, given the amount of skill degradation I just saw. But with regular practice you'll back to your previous level and more in no time!"

"Uh. Refreshers?"

"Of course!"

"That seems a bit overkill just for sparring. Couldn't you just...wear a specter deflector or something? Then I can just not use karate."

Jazz, for the first time in a long time, levels him with a very serious look.

"You said that the reason Frostbite can't be the king instead is because he can't beat you in an all out fight. You told me the alternative."

She grabs him by the shoulders and stares into his eyes.

"Danny, Vlad already made a way to shut you away from your ghost powers. Frostbite may be unwilling to end you, and I don't think Vlad would. But you and I both know there are ghosts out there who would destroy you in a heartbeat for that power. And if Vlad has that kind of device, someone else could get one too. Ecto-weapons can give you a leg up if you get sealed away from your ghost powers, but you'll also need the skill to use them successfuly."

She lets go and steps back, tilting her head thoughtfully.

"Even with the ghost powers it's probably a good idea; the crown and ring might power you up but so did the exoskeleton. Clearly they aren’t the only power-ups out there so you can’t rely on strength alone. Skill could be the determining factor one day. And you already said you had fun," she smiles. "Come on little brother, give in to the karate side."

He grimaces.

"Didn't you say you were gonna make the royalty thing a non-issue for like three more years at least," he whines, slumping dramatically.

She raises a brow.

"A blackbelt isn't made in a day."

"Ugh, fine."

He's actually looking forward to it, but Jazz doesn't need to know that. He's duty-bound as a brother to be as annoyingly contrary about sibling bonding as possible, after all.

When Sam asks if they'll teach her and Tucker as well, Jazz is all too happy to include them - best not to have only one sparring partner, avoid forming bad habits and all that.

Both girls dutifully ignore Tucker's protests while they hash out a schedule. Danny pats his shoulder consolingly.

[quietwingsinthesky]

there’s a purpose to it, of course, because Sam’s body is gone. lucifer can’t possess him anymore. lucifer can’t guard his soul from hell (the way michael is guarding adam’s) and a human soul left alone in hell will always eventually become a demon. he can’t watch that happen to sam.

so imagine. try to imagine. this incomprehensible ever-shifting figure, teeth and ice and barbed wire made from the shredded inside of the cage’s bars that he tore off and are trapped inside his form now. terrifying beyond belief. and now imagine how delicately he holds sam’s soul. how he finds the only soft part of himself left and tears it open until it bleeds his very essence (knowing when the wound closes up, it will scar as rough as the rest of him.)

and imagine him giving that to sam to keep him from becoming a demon. what’s left of lucifer that’s holy, hidden away inside, and he fills sam with it.

sam probably doesn’t stay human, but at least he isn’t a demon.

okay. returning to cage cannibalism. Lucifer feeding Sam bites of his grace after Sam’s body is taken away.