#bad things happen in Philadelphia

[kickmag]

Allen Iverson Executive Produces Soundtrack To Bad Things Happen In Philadelphia

Allen Iverson has executive-produced the soundtrack to Bad Things Happen In Philadelphia. Kyra Knox is the director of the feature that looks at gun violence in the city from the perspective of young people and community members. The film's title is a response to Donald Trump's quote, "Bad Things Happen In Philadelphia. Bad Things" from the first 2020 Presidential debate. Knox wanted to show how Philadelphia's people encourage their communities through grassroots work, challenging the stereotype of being criminals and victims. Garry Mills who mentors young people through his non-profit Shoot Basketballs NOT People, says, "Less Excuses. More Adjustments. This film is a reflection of the commitment to making dark inner-city communities bright again and displays my GOD-given gift to uplift and be a guardian angel to the youth.” The documentary has been shown at various film festivals and won multiple awards. "Legacy Re-Mix" is from the soundtrack, featuring rapper Da'T.R.U.T.H., Jill Scott, Greg Cox, and Adam Blackstone. Shanachie Records will release the soundtrack on December 1st. Bad Things Happen In Philadelphia will premiere at the Philadelphia Film Festival on October 28th. Fox Soul and Prime Video will have the national broadcast premiere on December 1st. 

[vicvinegarandhughhoney]

Your writing is so good! I was wondering if for bthb if you're still taking those, maybe overdose for Dennis, having like a really bad time mentally and actually taking his prescribed meds in desperation but taking too many after getting frustrated when they don't work right away? And either Mac or Dee finding and having to look out for him in the aftermath or something.

Dennis does something stupid- prompt: Overdose

Dee's trying to make dinner when her phone first buzzes, the vibration setting turned up so high that the device nearly comes careening off her kitchen counter. She leaps away from the stove to keep it from dropping, irritation only building when she sees the name on screen.

Dennis only seems to call when she's trying to do stuff.

Sighing heavily, she picks up the phone, the frustration lending a bite to her voice that she regrets almost immediately. “What, dickwad?”

There's a pause, and a muffled sound in the background that sounds like sobbing, then-

“D-dee? Need… n-need you.”

OR

Dennis gets sick of waiting for his pills to do something.

[sunnykeysmash]

the structure in mac and dennis break up

this is gonna be a short post tbh, I just rewatched the episode and I have a couple of thoughts.

if you need a refresher on what I think the structure is in general, I talk about it here.

I think Mac and Dennis Break Up shows us an example of Mac and Dennis (and Charlie and Frank) working properly in regards to the structure, let me explain why:

First... I don't think there's a need for me to describe the plot of the episode, we all know.

What I want to focus on, is that at one point Mac moves in with Frank and Charlie, and starts bringing his way of life to them.

At first, Frank is thrilled.

"I could use a little structure in my life here." he says.

This reminds me of dialogue from Carries a Corpse.

"Nobody admit this to Mac, but... I feel like he was carrying a ton of weight."

"That would be another one of his annoying identities... the man who could carry stuff."

He's been shown carrying Dennis, on top of generally being inclined to micromanage, take care of others so they're safe, and make decisions or at least demand to be consulted in them (like which movie to watch on movie night).

That's when Mac works best, so I assume that Mac generally brings structure (or is a man of action, as he describes it).

Later on, we see Mac take this too far, and Frank doesn't like it anymore. To me, this is because what this episode tells us is that Charlie and Frank don't work well with a set structure, the way that Mac provides. They're more free.

I think this reading is important because it shows me why The Gang Gets Romantic fundamentally fails in its objective (not as an episode god forbid, I mean in the narrative, especially for Mac and Dennis).

It applies the romcom structure to Charlie and Frank, while it doesn't to Mac and Dennis, when it should be the opposite. Throughout the episode we see that Mac and Dennis keep fitting the tropes to the romcom structure, but they refuse to follow it, and thus it crumbles. It can't work.

Here's another thing.

Dennis' back broke in the S15 finale.

That is funny, yes, but what does this mean when I say that Mac is the (his) structure, then?

Well... Carries a Corpse implies that Mac was carrying most of the weight of the corpse, and the corpse is meant to be the show... and most show meta is basically the same as Dennis meta (most meta lines seem to relate to him, whether the fact he left for north dakota and came back, or the fact he's a dad, being between life and death, breaking his back aka the structure, and so on), as I have discussed better in my other post.

Point being, Mac carries Dennis. That's what he's meant to do, and what he does best in their relationship.

This makes me think of another recent scene that I think is emblematic of their dynamic... but in an interesting way.

So, in 2020: a Year in Review, Mac and Dennis work together on a song.

They seem to be in harmony, but eventually start disagreeing and stop altogether to focus on something else. Why?

Because Dennis is working on the backup vocals, and Mac is working on the words. Which means their roles are reversed. Mac is supposed to be carrying the song, like the wind beneath his wings that he is, and Dennis, like the man of words that he is, should be responsible for the lyrics. They're doing each other's job, which means any harmony they reach is still bound to crack a bit the moment the song doesn't work for them.

Their seating position on their sofa reflects this.

Compare it to Mac and Dennis Break Up, which is supposed to be our ideal.

They're in each other's places, in 2020.

This isn't new, they've been sitting in each other's places ever since Break Up. Mac was sitting in Dennis' place in MFHP, Dennis was sitting in Mac's place in Gets Romantic.

So tl;dr... Mac and Dennis work well under structure, when Mac is the one to bring it and carry Dennis. They fit a proper couple structure after all. Charlie and Frank don't work as well under structure, since their relationship is more unique and doesn't quite abide by normal rules because of that.

This does bring me to one last consideration though...

They're back in their right spots, in season 16! Only problem is... couch is different. I would argue an inflatable couch doesn't offer the same amount of support (structure) that a normal one would...

Now that Dennis' structural essence broke, is he gonna feel what it's like when Mac is absent?

Perhaps this is why in Cursed we get Mac as the lucky one while the others as so unlucky they start to believe they're cursed (according to the synopsis...).

So the whole gang needs Mac?

Well...

In Goes To Hell pt2, when they build the human pyramid, it's both Mac and Dennis that end up at the bottom, as its structure.

So maybe... Dennis needs Mac as his structure, and the gang needs them to be in sync so they can both, together, support them (or shut the hell up about it, as both madbu and s15 would argue). Maybe this realization could be what brings the gang to work together in order to get them together. But that's getting into just speculation so imma end it here.

I like these thoughts though... Mac and Dennis being the foundation, the structure of the whole thing :)

[oliviackaotix-blog]

So I’ve been looking into Micheal Staniforth’s other works, particularly in Rentaghost, and I could not tell it was him at first, he looks exactly like if Charlie and Mac fused

[boysareouttonight]

everyone says hero or hate crime ptsdee and gang tends bar are episodes that are connected and this is so real. mac realized his feelings for dennis right after the came out bc before that he was in denial about everything else including being in love with dennis. we have to consider all the repressed feelings from years back hit him at all once so he couldn't stop thinking about it and thats why he has that dream in ptsdee. when dennis shuts the door in macs face it obviously meant dennis rejecting macs feelings for him bc in macs head dennis reciprocating is smth that would never happen no matter how bad he wanted it (making dennis touch his face, lean in for a kiss but ultimately pulling back and then he wakes up bc reality hit him). and then in gang tends bar when mac gave him the rpg it wasn't just about dennis it was also about mac and what it meant for him. i personally think it meant him accepting his feelings for dennis and being ok with never getting anything back. its him realizing hes stuck with having to live every day with someone he can't have but being fine with it bc making dennis happy is already enough for him. that episode was macs closure and dennis' awakening.

[chounaifu]

⇖

Man who will never step foot onto Cinnabar Island EVER AGAIN.

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

i think the taylor swift tour could be studied as one of the biggest if not the biggest superspreader event of 2023

[itsthestutterforme]

Reacher’s Cranky Girl (Jack Reacher Drabble)

Summary: Reacher finds out that his best girl was having a bad day.

Warnings/Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, reader is black, sneakylink!Reacher, sneakylink!reader, sexual themes (fingering, oral sex, over stimulation, bondage, slapping), MINORS DNI

**

You woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

You couldn’t fall asleep until two in the morning so you only had five hours of sleep. You stepped in dog shit on the way to your car so you had to go back into your house to change your shoes.

Only for one of the heels to get stuck in a grate and tear off the back so you just settled for some flats.

You spilled your iced coffee on your silk shirt. At least it wasn’t hot because that would have sent you into a different kind of rampage.

When you finally get to work, your boss chewed your ass out because the printer froze in the middle of printing the investment proposal.

An investment proposal he needed for the board meeting this morning, which meant he either had to push the meeting to this afternoon or had to share the proposal digitally.

At this point, you were counting down the days so you can go home and spend the rest of the day rotting in your bed.

“Maybe I can call Reacher over here to help cheer you up,” your sister suggests, sitting in the chair in front of your desk.

“I’m not in the mood for teasing, Y/S/N.” “I’m not teasing you. I’m just saying that-“

“Not even Reacher can bring me out of this, okay? I just want to go home.”

“Y/N,” “I said leave it, Y/S/N.” You grumbled, shifting your attention back to computer.

“Okay, fine.” She says with full intention of calling Reacher anyway.

Your sister walks past the boss who was on the way to your office. He pops his head in the say, “Y/N, I need the updated spreadsheet ASAP.”

“On it,” “You’re still running point on the presentation, right?”

I thought you said I was incompetent.

“Sure thing. Did the board decide on a time tomorrow?” “Eight a.m.,”

“In that case, I’ll be in at seven thirty to prep.” He nods and gives a soft knock on the door before leaving.

Y/S/N closes the door of her office to call Reacher. He gave her his number when he found out the two of you were going to a concert in Philadelphia.

He knew you were the confrontational type and wouldn’t call anyone if you found yourself in trouble.

He wanted the er on the side of caution so he trusted your sister to let him know if anything happens.

Reacher was your sneaky link that wasn’t really that sneaky. He wasn’t easy to miss. He would walk into your place, fuck your face into the pillows, order the two of you some food, fuck your face into the pillows again then leave in the morning.

“Reacher,” he answers. “Hey, Reacher. It’s Y/S/N.”

“Is everything okay?” “Yeah, everything is fine. Um, when are you hanging out with Y/N next?”

“We didn’t really decide on a day this week,” Reacher states, unsure of where this conversation was going.

“Y/S/N, I’m sure you’re a great woman but I only have a thing for your sister and I’m a loyal man so..”

“Wow, that was not on my bingo card. I’m not trying to hit on you, Reacher. I’m asking if you can pick up Y/N from work today. She’s having a rough time.”

“Oh.. how rough are we talking?” “Like she’s about to bite the boss’ head off,”

“Okay, I’ll be there. What should I bring her?” “I trust your judgment, Reacher.”

With that, Y/S/N hung up and sat down at her desk leaving Reacher dumbfounded in Finlay’s living room while Neagley and David played video games.

“What’s with the face?” Finlay asks, handing him a beer. “What should I get a woman when she’s having a bad day?” Reacher asks everything in the room.

Neagley pauses the game and everyone slowly turning to Reacher who opened Google to find out the answer to his question.

He noticed the silence and looked up from his phone to meet their shocked expressions.

“What?” “You have a girlfriend*?” David questions.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he grumbles. “Then why do you care if she’s upset?” David retorts.

“Because it’s a nice thing to do for someone,” “Right, says the guy who breaks peoples faces for a living.” He presses the resume button on game.

**

As soon as the clock hit 5 o’clock, you gathered your things and sped walked out of your office. You practically ran into the stairwell when you heard an office door open.

You didn’t have any more energy to give to that god forsaken company today. You rush down seven floors until you reached the front door, inhaling deeply when the fresh spring air filled your lungs.

You heard someone to your right clearing their throat and immediately rolled your eyes. You were not in the mood to hear anyone’s cheesy pick up lines right now.

“Looks like someone’s cranky,” a familiar voice calls and you looked over to see Reacher leaning against his truck.

“Reacher?” You approached him with a confused expression. “Are you looking to invest something or..?” You trail off.

There was no way he was here for you, right?

“No. I’m not here to invest, peach.” He kicks off his car and closed the gap between you, towering over you in the process.

“Then why are you- I’m going to fucking kill her.” You seeth, turning to walk into the parking lot when Reacher stopped you.

“You want to know what sounds better than killing your sister?” he starts, slowly rubbing the sides of your arms.

Your eyes fluttered closed when his rough hands smoothed over your shoulders, humming in response.

“Some curry and sushi for dinner,”

That does sound really good.

“And my face between your thighs for dessert,”

God, that sounded even better.

“How does that sound, peach?” He questions as he continued rubbing your arms.

“Really good,”

“Good because Y/S/N already took your keys and drove your car home. Hop in.” Reacher suggests, opening the car door to hand you a Dunkin iced coffee.

**

“R-Reacher,” you groaned, twisting away from his eager tongue smoothing between your puffy folds.

He didn’t even wait until you were fully situated. Shutting the door, he took you in his arms and carried you into kitchen.

He set you on the counter and nudged you on your back. You gasped when he tore your pantyhose down your legs and lifted your skirt over your waist.

Pulling your panties to the side, he licks between your folds spearing your tight hole with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh my God,”

Shaking his head, he buries his face deeper in between your legs. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucked harshly on your sensitive nub.

He gathered your slick on his finger tips and sank two fingers into you, expertly thrusting upwards into your gspot causing your body to twitch.

He made it his mission to make you cum quick and hard.

“Mm, fuck.” You rolled your hips to match the thrusts of his fingers when he kitten licks your clit, sending you over the edge.

“I-I, fuck. I’m cumming, Reacher.” “Let it go, peach. Let me taste you.”

Your legs close around his head when your body trembles under the intensity of your orgasm.

A satisfied sigh left your lips when you came down from your high, your limp body was sprawled out on the counter.

He doesn’t slow his fingers and you could feel another orgasm building in your belly. He draws figure eights on your clit with his tongue, causing you to whine.

“Wait, I-“ you push his head away and tried to slide away from him but he pushed against your hand.

“Reacher,” you whimper, twisting your body away and covering your cunt so he would stop long enough for you to breathe.

“Move your hand. I’m not done yet.”

“I need a break,” you breathed out. “Move. Your. Hand. I’m not going to say it again.”

You don’t move fast enough for him and he threw you over your shoulder, smacking your ass hard as punishment. He didn’t care that you yelped out at the sharp sting.

Dropping you on the bed, he stripped down to his boxers.

“Strip,” he commands and you pulled off your clothes in record time.

You pressed your legs together when he approaches the bed when he pulls you closer by your ankles and flipped you on your stomach.

He placed a hand in between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. He straddled your legs and pulled your arms outstretched before tying your hands to the bed post with his belt.

Oh, you were in some deep shit now.

Moaning when you feel his hard cock against your ass cheek, he took your face into his hand and made you look straight back at him.

“You misunderstand, peach. The dinner was for you. The dessert was for me. I’m not going to stop until you’re crying and brainless.”

[luveline]

hotch baby blurb about the other members of the bau figuring out they’re dating/nearly dating,, reader as a bau member maybe and like he’s just a bit more protective on cases, always watching her and things, or letting her ride shotgun in the car, or bringing her coffee,, you’re a fantastic writer and i have a burning love for aaron hotchner <3

Thank you, and thank you for requesting lovely!!

It's Aaron's fault that the team find out. It happens on a case. Serial killer, Philadelphia, three days and counting. You don't share a hotel room, you haven't kissed in two days and sixteen hours, and you're honestly going a little crazy. You call shotgun and he drives. Emily and Morgan trade theories in the seat behind. 

"It's clearly psycho sexual," Morgan says. 

"And clearly a white male," Emily adds. 

"The sophistication–" You begin. 

"Clearly older. Late 40's." 

You glares at him playfully, too playfully considering you're in company of your colleagues, but he's getting too big for his boots — he's admitted that he cuts you off because he knows it irks you and that he likes how your brows pinch together when you're mad. He's flirting with you, and he isn't as casual as he thinks he is.

"You're so rude," you lament. You shouldn't, but Emily and Morgan are still talking. 

"Were you saying something?" he asks.

"False apology doesn't suit you, Hotchner–" 

"Mm, and what does?" 

Your lips part in shock. "Hotch." 

He laughs, and it's his fault; he laughs, and Emily and Morgan fall silent. You're about to clear your throat and reinstate the professionalism you're both sorely lacking but Aaron has not gotten the memo, he reaches across the console, his hand drops onto your knee, and he squeezes it like he always does when you're haunting his passenger seat outside of work. 

It's too bad you are not outside of work. 

"Oh, handsome," you murmur, pitying.

Funnily, it's your use of a pet name that snaps him out of it. He stills completely, eyes glued to the road, and slowly, slowly, removes his hand. 

"...Garcia owes me so much money," Morgan says jovially. 

You're so relieved that it isn't you (you'd both thought, undoubtedly, that you'd be the one to give it away, because Aaron is usually an impassive wall of stone) that you can't find it in yourself to be generous. 

"It wasn't me," you gloat, tone light with awe. "I can't believe it wasn't me. What did you say to me? You said–" 

"I know what I said, Agent." There's a slight hint of hoarseness to his chiding. 

"Don't be shy, Hotch," Emily says. "We're all friends here." 

"Some of us a little more than that," Morgan adds. Their amusement is crystal clear. 

Aaron clenches his jaw. You reach right on over and stroke his tensed muscle, because the cat is out of the bag. You worry for a moment, and then his lips quirk up into a reluctant smile. 

"I can't believe it was me," he says. You pat his cheek. 

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Beca beca please please I’m begging you write smt w cooper x shy!plus size reader. Please please please😭😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

In The Now | Cooper Adams/Abbott x Plus Size F!Reader

Gif credit to @d-vient

Synopsis: Nightly walks by the fire station is a ritual, a way to clear your mind from the bullshit in your life. The firefighters do so much for your community, why not give them a little appreciation back? Though, only one remains, and he happens to be your favorite.

Warnings: Porn with Plot, Smut, Soft!Cooper, Shy!Reader, Mentions of weight (soft belly/tummy, grabbable thighs, soft flesh, ect.), Public Sex???, Oral F!Receiving, Floor Sex, Cooper Talks You Through It (Shh its canon,)

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: M

Author’s Note: I hope I did your request justice.

Tagging: @rubyfruitjungle @cherryinterlude @lilly3434 @amethystblackkchaos @rosaleelovesdilfs @babygorewhore @dirtylittlefairytales @redpillbluepill @strangererotica

If you would like to be tagged for my fics, please fill this out

Introvert; a typically reserved or quiet person who tends to be introspective and enjoys spending time alone. Shy; being reserved or having or showing nervousness or timidity in the company of other people. What do both have in common? You. Being shy and introverted is not a bad thing, no, in fact it is a great thing. It protects you from the horrors of the world, keeps you in line with other things in life so – you can get the full experience without the bullshit that comes with it. It is a better way to go through each day; You’re not naïve but careful. You don’t leave traces where you have been, but you garner experiences. You don’t remember conversations but, you remember names and faces. It is better that way; it is easier to be in the background of everyone else’s journey than to be at the forefront. Not being seen is good, it’s safe. You know where you are and cannot be touched. It’s better than whatever is going on locally.

Sure, Philadelphia isn’t the prime location for a job change but – it was better than one season states. At least in Philly you got to see the leaves change, sun to rain to snow, every element was prevalent each day. It was a step up from what you were used to, nothing could follow you here. Your past, your regrets – they stayed away, like they deserved to. You deserved and needed a fresh start – this was the best way to do it, this ensured that you could be seen with fresh eyes, over critical ones. You didn’t want to be in the spotlight, or in places where it wasn’t important. You wanted a name for yourself, but one that didn’t bring attention. Wallflower, that was what you wanted. Standing, listening, analyzing; You take inventory of a room and guess the life pattern for everyone, then be on your merry way. Quiet, demure, mindful.

Moving here was a dream come true – a great work opportunity that you couldn’t pass on. You would’ve been a fool to do so. Plus, a way to escape the realism of your hometown? Call it a win-win situation. It was what every reclusive person wanted; Fully remote, put up in a swanky condo across from the fire department – so you know you’d never lose power in snowstorms. It was good; Safe. It meant you were out of the public sights of the world, you could in passing say hi and move on – never commit to the names. They never mattered anyways. It was a great experience, a great road trip drive, and better yet – a dream come true to explore.

Ladder 49 in Philly is an exuberant bunch – always laughing and welcoming the neighbors in. Every Spring day they are drawing hopscotch with the kids. Every Summer they are playing basketball. Every Autumn they are carving pumpkins and delivering turkeys. Every Winter they are holding toy drives and shoveling people out. When they say they are community driven – they are not kidding. Years upon years of photos always sit in the forefront of the station, showing new and oldcomers alike how much they love giving back, how devoted they are to the community. It was the luck of the draw for you to be across from it, it was a match made in heaven. The first day you moved in was just a show of their kindness, their dedication. Especially when the fire chief came strolling over with a simple sentence: “Let me take those for you.” He didn’t even stutter or miss a step as he took the box out of your arms, and carried it inside. A leader of example, considering his men were quick to grab the rest. That was your first interaction with Cooper Adams, and sure as hell hoped it wasn’t going to be the last.

With the Summer cresting into Fall in Philly, shorts weather now became jeans and a sweatshirt weather. It felt better, not having to deal with chafing thighs and the constant sticky skin. The humidity was brutal this time of the year, but as it dried against you skin it felt nice. The second you could feel it on your back, your stomach, and your sides? It was AC for you. But with the Fall rolling through it just made things better. The air was crisper, the mood was starting to get that spooky feel – with Halloween on the way in. It was everything you wanted, everything you asked for. Everything that made the world feel alright again.

Your favorite things to do during this time were take late night strolls through the town, getting use to the city and seeing how places were starting to decorate. Headlamps lined the streets in Victorian era black steel, the orange glow of the lightbulbs inside caused a cozy feeling to overtake your body. It brought you solace and comfort, knowing everything would be orange and red soon – and the rain would move in sweetly. Pulling your coat tighter around your body, you wrapped your arms over your chest – enjoying the plush feel. Your boots scuffed at the newly paved sidewalk, bringing music to your ears. Laughter could be heard from around the corner, the park playground – as the smell of marijuana hung sweetly in the air. Inhaling the scent deeply, you let your eyes fall shut at the notion – swaying on your own two feet. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re already ready for Winter!” A cheery voice chimed from beside you, causing your eyes to slowly drift open. Turning your head to your right, you saw him sitting against the firehouse wall, spraying down his helmet with cleaner as he smiled at you. Him, the one you have been pining over for months since you arrived in Philly – the one to always strike up a conversation with you. Cooper Adams, fire chief, and resident DILF.

Ever since that first day of taking your boxes in, he never passes on the opportunity to strike up a conversation with you. It was sweet, it was also the highlight of your days. His long chestnut locks always falling into his face, sweeping them away with both hands – the way his ember eyes glittered against any type of lighting sent shivers down your spine. You grew to admire the golden flecks his irises always loved to send out, sparkling like Tiger’s Eye against the sun. He was beauty and grace wrapped into one, the All-American man. Everything you could see yourself wanting, Cooper was. To you it felt silly to have such a high-school crush on a man, clearly in his forties but, the body wants what it wants. The little lines around his eyes when he laughed made your heart grow softer, the way he always admired what you were wearing made your head fill with smoke. He is ethereal, and you never seized the opportunity to embrace that light he shone so brightly.

“Sshh! Don’t say that too loud or else we will get an early one,” you joked, feeling your heart race as your feet started to walk towards the firehouse entrance, leaning against the brick wall beside Cooper. Staring up at you, Cooper laughed so dreamily – music to your ears. He shook with his laughter, which you admired a lot. It wasn’t just a thoughtful reaction but, a mindless one. Everything was always so comical to Cooper, your talk backs and dad jokes. He admired them, and you loved the full body chuckle. Shaking his head, he slowly started to calm his laughter down as he leaned back into the steel chair, sighing out as he grabbed a rag from his side. Propping his helmet on his lap, Cooper started to wipe down the visor of soot from their last call uptown this morning, a two-alarm fire that thankfully no one was home for. Your eyes lost focus on Cooper’s face as he gripped his helmet hard – wiping in circular motions. His blue fire department shirt was rolled around the sleeves, highlighting the beautiful bulging of his biceps. It was soft yet hard; Easily bitable. You felt your mouth water at the thought, smirking inwardly at the idea of doing so.

“You’re fun, you know that?” Internally you cocked your eyebrow, not believing that in the slightest. Sure, you could have fun but, to the outside world? No way. That wasn’t reality. You were a wallflower, shy and quiet versus talkative and extroverted. No, this was only for Cooper – a side of yourself you never would’ve thought would come out as much as it did. Feeling your cheek heat from the compliment, you shied away in yourself for a moment, locking your eyes onto the ground by Cooper booted feet, loving to see the scuffs against the leather – proving how hard he was at work. In fact, you were so into the fantasy of him calling you fun and thinking about his boots, that you wondered what the leather would feel like rubbing against your cu-

“Ah, shit!” Cooper yelled out as he jumped out of his seat, causing you to jump back into reality. Stumbling backwards a bit from the scare, Cooper leaned forth to grab your arm – stopping you from falling. You didn’t quite understand what was happening at first when he grabbed you, but as your body evened out to the stumble, you noticed that the dark blue of Cooper’s shirt was now navy, soaked in liquid – the cleaner he was using. The pungent smell permeated your nostrils, making them flare slightly. Cooper ground his booted feet against the concrete floor, watching you intently as you caught your breath. But you could never bring your eyes to Cooper’s face, no, instead your eyes were fixated on Cooper’s chest. His sopping shirt clinging so well to his form. He was hard in some places, but soft in all the good spots. The soft pudge of his belly to the hardened contours of his sides made your mind go wild. That flush crept down your neck to your chest – suddenly causing your coat to feel too tight around you; Too warm. His nipples pebbled beneath the wetness as a cool breeze rolled through, causing him to shudder.

“Sorry about that, I hope I didn’t splash you,” Cooper spoke with remorse, grimacing at the idea of getting this stuff on you. Shaking your head as you cleared your throat – you closed your eyes momentarily. “Uhm, no…not that I could tell. I was too busy uh,” you began as you chuckled, waving your arms dramatically to signalize your almost fall. Cracking one eye open, you caught Cooper looking at you with a longing look – his head tilted to the side as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. The admiration in his eye lit you on fire, from the inside out. Those beautiful autumn night irises trailed up and down your body, focusing on your baren legs, then trailing up the expanse of your torso – flashing his teeth slightly with his lip bite. You could feel your fingers starting to shake at your side, the electricity between the two of you immaculate – ready to burst at the seams.

As Cooper’s eyes slid over your face, he came to the realization that you saw him check you out, causing his eyes to go wide for a moment before relaxing. A flush of pink tinged his cheeks cutely, causing that little color to make his eyes pop more. Letting go of his lip, he trailed his tongue over the puckered surface. He was holding something back; An internal fight with himself. God, you wanted him to just say it – to put an end to the pining. The tension, the quietness, it was too much. “I was planning on it being you that got me out of my shirt, not the cleaning products.” Cooper was nonchalant with how he spoke out, leaning against the lockers to the left of the firetruck. He used the tip of his elbow to click the garage switch – those giant doors starting to close now, putting the city away for the night so it was only you two. You were happy he did that, considering how loud the garage doors were going down, it masked the small moan you let out at his words.

You were in shock to say the least, not expecting sweet, delicate Cooper to say such a thing. I mean it was obvious you both have been playing the will they, won’t they card for months but – you thought it may have just been all in your head. “Excuse me?” You said quietly, keeping your eyes fixated on the concrete floor. You wouldn’t be able to control yourself if you looked up – your shy demeanor would fall since it was now just the two of you. There was a deeper side of yourself that was questioning all of this – if it was real, if it was in your head. It’s a fantasy to you, Cooper interested in you – a recently divorced man, bringing him back to his glory days. It wasn’t self-doubt or insecurity stopping you; You know you are beautiful, sexy, and hot – but you were afraid this was all a dream. A dream brought on by a fever or a daydream while you’re at work. But as you peered back up to meet Cooper’s attentive gaze, you knew this was real. “Honey, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Cooper spoke so plainly, like nothing else in the world mattered within that moment. Only you did, only this moment did. “I could see it, still see it actually.” He used the rag in his hand to motion to your face in a circle, licking around the inside of his lip as he tried to find the next words. Slowly the gap between the two of you started to close, the air growing thicker and thicker as his body took up the empty space. The gentle pace at which he was going spoke measures, it was delicious – he was inevitable. “Your eyes speak the words you mouth will not.” Cooper brought his clean hand up to caress your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your soft skin. You couldn’t help but to lean in, letting the warmth of his palm envelop you. “That’s…very waxing poet of you.” Your words came out like it was never a question at all or have any hesitancy behind your words. They were true, cute, and most of all – funny.

The genuine belly laugh you got from Cooper caught you off guard - getting you off into a giggle fit. Hearing him let his true self out within that laugh made everything feel okay – the heavy sexual tension was blooming with free-spirited energy and such wholesome qualities; It made you feel so good. Bowing to you, he blew you air kisses as he slicked his hair back, nudging you with his shoulder. “Thank you,” he chortled, running a hand over his five o’clock shadow. The facial hair looked so good on him; Small specks of grey littered the edges, whilst his temple held all the rest. Grey looked so good on him; the color made him youthful in a way. “You know, I did major in poetry at school.” That was a shock to you; You never saw Cooper as the writer type but – more of an engineering background. The new tidbit of information made you question everything.

“Did you now?” You asked politely, crossing your arms over your chest. Biting his lip in your direction, Cooper leaned his arm directly above your head, looking down at you. Your eyes trailed up the inseam of his arm, seeing the light-colored veins under his skin, mixed with the intoxicating smell of his cologne. Your knees trembled the slightest bit as he stood over you, examining your face with precision. His gaze was intense, shifting from hazel to black almost immediately – his pupils taking up all the color. As he went to nod his head, he changed at the last second to a shake. “No, I went to a trade school but hey – I still dabble in a bit of Shakespeare.” He shrugged, doing the shrug smile with it. Rolling your eyes, you set your vision to the calendar hanging up on the other side of the fire station, trying to calm your heart rate from the proximity of Cooper.

He could tell your heart was racing, that your spine was growing tingling with emotion. To help quell the racing you were feeling, Cooper brought his hand back to your face, caressing your cheek as his lips were only a few inches from yours. “No, but seriously, though. I see the way you look at me.” He was so matter of fact with it, he wasn’t skating around anything anymore. He knew that he needed to speak the truth, to get across to you, because this would be the only chance he had while the guys were all playing pool downtown. “I don’t mean to be forward but, it feels good.” You made Cooper feel good, a feeling everyone deserves to have. You felt the pinprick of tears in the corner of your eyes as you smiled up at him, nudging your chin out for him to touch your lips. Cooper stayed where he was, not moving an inch, causing you to grow wanton. “Feeling wanted again.”

Deep seeded emotion found its way into his eyes, the glimmer of light reflecting off showcased the unshed tears he was holding back. With the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, you knew he was close to crying. But Cooper was not going to show that – no, instead he hissed as he pulled back, clearing his throat. A whimper slipped through his parted lips, which in turn caused you to clench your bare thighs together, swallowing down hard at the sound. You tried to be inconspicuous, so Cooper didn’t see; You were thankful his eyes were turned down. “Okay, yeah this is starting to burn,” he snickered out, grabbing at the end of his t-shirt with expert precision. Cooper whipped his shirt off quickly, small bits of chemical hitting the floor as it was removed. Your eyes went wide at the sight in front of you – showing off all the hard and soft parts of Cooper’s torso you saw earlier. This time his skin was pinkened by the exposure to the cleaner, but it didn’t take away from him at all. The happy trail leading right to his belt buckle; His chest hair spread across him in the sexiest way.

Cooper grabbed a clean rag from his locker and doused it with a water bottle, groaning as the burning got more intense. The way the liquid was about to glide over his abs, made your eyes vibrate. You felt your demeanor slipping at an alarming rate, knowing you were about to cross a line you wouldn’t come back from. “Do you want me to hose you down?” Your joke was a tight delivery, considering you couldn’t stop watching Cooper run the wet towel down his stomach, soaking up any bits of the chemicals. You felt your eyes waver heavily as your arousal grew, which caused you to stare at Cooper. His own eyes were obsidian, black around all edges – a man pained with arousal. Smirking in such a sinister way, he nodded at you – flicking the wet cloth in your direction. “Depends, you going to show me what you have hiding under that coat?”

That was it for you – you knew you were never coming back. Cooper Adams metaphorically saw what you had underneath, that lacy red number you bought a while ago. You had nowhere to wear it, and no one to wear it for. But you didn’t care – it made you feel sexy, enticing, plus it was a little incentive for Cooper in hindsight. His red iPhone gave away his favorite color, and tonight he happened to be all alone. It wasn’t planned in the slightest but, you were hoping. When you saw Cooper sitting alone tonight, you hoped no one else was there. After an hour and no one, you knew it was your time to make the call. Twisting side to side in your spot, you moved forward into Cooper’s space, giving your best innocent eyes you could muster as Cooper placed his hand on your hip, smoothing the other down your arm. “You’re not as sneaky as you might think, love.” The whispered tone in which he spoke to you made your body shudder under his touch; His lips pressed sweetly to the shell of your ear, letting his plush skin rest easily against you. He could feel the tremor in your body as his lips laid a peaceful kiss to your ear, moaning slightly into you. “I wasn’t-“ you managed to start but, alas gave up halfway through.

“Oh you were, don’t be shy, darling.” His tone shifted from calm to desperate very quick – a little tease at the end to sweeten the deal. The hand that rested against your hip scooted around to your lower back, running a finger up and down your spine. The other hand resting against your arm snaked to the back of your neck, rubbing at the nape. Quickly you were pulled flush against Cooper, feeling his bulging jeans press firmly against your stomach, causing your breath to waver. His lips only inches from yours; If you tilted your head up, you would be able to just feel him and every dream he could give you. “You were hoping that tonight, of all nights, would be the time you finally got a taste of me.” He read you like a book, because this is exactly what it was. What it all looked like, it was exactly what you needed.

Cooper let both of his hands trail over your clothed body, bringing them around to your front. Each finger admired the curves on you, the soft and supple skin hiding beneath. All he could think about doing was sinking his teeth in and leaving his mark on you. The beige trench coat you wore was adorned in front by the belt – to which you had tied into a bow. Thick, calloused fingers made their way to the simple knot, gently tugging on the longer end, teasing you. Cooper’s eyes remained on your front; mouth ajar whilst the soft fabric started to sway with the tension. You had half a mind to pull yourself back, forcing him to undo it quicker but – where was the fun in that? Cooper wouldn’t have it either, no, he would make your life a living hell if you did that. This was all about the chase, never the end – but you knew it was going to be worth it.

As you were about to speak, the last of the knot fell out in front of you, leaving just the first loop around. Cooper’s agile fingers worked diligently to undo it, letting the belt fall to your side, brushing past your exposed thighs. Taking in the sight of you fully clothed, Cooper took a deep breath as he let his left-hand swing back your coat, now being able to see the glory underneath. The teddy lingerie you were wearing didn’t leave much to the imagination, in fact it gave Cooper the eyeful he had been dying for since day one. You caught his eye, being so adorable and shy, he knew he had to have you. Letting out a low wolf whistle, he took in the gorgeous sight in front of him. Breasts were uncovered due to the structure of the lingerie but held up just nicely due to the underwiring. A keyhole slit sat against the front of your stomach, highlighting its softened nature. Cooper though was drawn to the open slit between your legs where it would be covered, growing harder by the second knowing your cunt has been free this whole night.

“Well, you’d be right,” Cooper stated huskily, rubbing his thumb against the side of your breast. You gasped at the soft touch, shivering under his finger as the cold air of the firehouse nipped at your exposed skin. Everything in you broke, that small thin thread that had been holding you together – completely unraveled. Cooper didn’t waste another second as he leaned forth to capture your neck between his lips, greedily biting at your supple flesh. The moan that ripped from your throat caused Cooper to grow feral; Your back pushed against the lockers next to the firetruck, the cold in perfect contrast with your heated skin. Your hands tangled in Cooper’s soft hair, tugging at the root for him to move his lips upward. You could feel the heat of his bites against your neck, knowing you’d be wearing his mark for days.

Once your lips finally hit Cooper’s, everything you had been holding back on came to fruition. It was unlike anything you had experienced within a kiss. It wasn’t all lips, teeth, and spit like you were used to, it was primal yet possessive. It reminded of the first rainfall of Summer; The air slightly too thick as it crests, skies turning grey at the drop of a hat. But through all that muck and heat you feel it – the cold, crisp drops of rain against your bated skin, absorbing into you – becoming one. The smell around you amplifying the sensation; Goosebumps rising against your flesh as you cool from the inside out. Safe, you’re safe. You’re okay. You’re at peace. It wasn’t like a traditional kiss, it felt more. Cooper must’ve felt it too because his hands pushed you further against his lips, caressing your neck as the fingers of his left hand squeezed your breast lovingly.

He was a man on a mission, a man intoxicated by your touch, how you felt, and everything that encompassed you. He wanted to get drunk off you, and swim in that loving pool of your soul, and never surface again. For the last few months, he felt so unloved, unwanted, embarrassed because of how Rachel treated him. It made him feel insecure, like he wasn’t worthy of that kind of love. But that flew right out the window the second he got you in his hands, knowing that you weren’t going to leave – that you were going to be forever to him. It made you feel lightheaded the amount of passion Cooper was exuding towards you – like you were his lifeline in this cruel world. You brought your leg up around Cooper’s hip to get him further, wanting to feel the full, covered length of him Not wanting to tease you any longer, Cooper grabbed at your baren thigh and hiked it up higher, making sure to spread your pussy enough to feel the cold breeze.

“But I need to taste you first.” He finally spoke again, making you forget his earlier sentence. The thought of Cooper’s mouth on your cunt was enough to make you cry – you needed it bad; you needed him biblically. Nodding against his lips at his words, you placed one of your hands on his shoulder, wrapping your arm around him. Cooper grabbed at the plushness of your thigh, placing it gently onto the bench to your side as he maintained eye contact. Not once in his slow descent down did he ever look away – always keeping his eyes on you, watching how you shivered with delight. His thick fingers ran down your skin like he was starving – hungry for you and only you, bringing a part of his life back he thought was long gone.

As Cooper came face to face with your wet cunt, the reservations he had about going too fast slipped away – he was like a man starved, your folds were the only thing he needed to survive. Cooper’s mouth was only mere inches away from your cunt, his hot breath fanning over your soaked lips. Wasting not a single moment more, Cooper dove into your sweet cunt like a man starved, hungrily lapping at your puffy folds. You screamed out in pure bliss at the feeling, his tongue working your clit in harsh circles, using his two longest fingers to circle your entrance, never did he attempt to push them inside of you. It was only a mere distraction for the fact that he was sucking your clit as if it was a hard candy.

The harsh clash of his lips and the slight grazing of his teeth sent you into an overdrive. So many feelings were flooding through your body, as if ice water had been tossed all over you. It was a pure feeling nonetheless, something so brilliant and rough - you didn't want to give it up. You brought your hands up to rake through Cooper’s locks, yanking harshly at the root as your nails dug into his scalp. The growl he let out into your cunt was feral, yet animalistic. In this moment you both were not humans, but two animals in the jungle, fucking like the world was going to end. “God, you taste so fucking good.”

There was nothing soft or human-like about this, it was pure primal. Cooper’s tongue lapped and flicked over your clit like water, his eyes watching yours as your face turned up in pleasure, wails of pure bliss exiting your mouth. Cooper took you by surprise when he shoved three of his long, thick digits into the cavern of your wet cunt - plowing them in and out of you with wreck less abandon. You were not moaning anymore, you were fully screaming in ecstasy over the brutal fucking you were getting. “I’m here baby, no need for tears,” Tears fell down from your eyes with ease pass of his fingers over that spongy spot - spurring your orgasm on like it was nothing. “You’re safe. Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Come on princess, you can give it to me.”

It's then that your body jolted off of the lockers with a wail of pleasure, neck tightening as you tried too hard to remain in control. “That’s my good fucking girl, you’re squeezing the shit out of me.” Cooper’s brutal pace of his fingers and tongue did not let up, not until you were screaming the safe word. Just then he got a great idea; His fingers kept moving at a rapid speed but his mouth was replaced with his other hand - using them entire pad of his palm to rub your clit quicker. He had a better use for his mouth, placing it on the apex of your thigh, and clamping his teeth harshly around the skin. Not hard enough to break it but, enough to make a welt and bruise form. It was sexy, you've never seen a man like this. “You make me insane, you know that? I am fucking mad for you.” Cooper’s grunts - the sensation of pain mixed with pleasure as your orgasm never faded, instead only growing stronger. The flex of your lower belly came in tune with the vice-like grip of your cunt, your hands twisted smacked hard against the lockers behind you, eyes rolling into the back of your head. It was then, the floodgates broke.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” You screamed out, a new sensation to your orgasm came forth, sending you into a spiral of the unknown. It felt like a bubble burst deep within you, enough to make you scream. "That’s it babydoll, just let go." Cooper huskily let out, letting his hands work in tandem with each other. The rapid movements on your clit and g-spot made you sob into the open air, your orgasm causing your entire body to be jelly-like. “That’s a good girl, you’re so perfect. You’re everything to me.” Your brain was nonexistent, all you could hear was the sloppy wet sound of your cunt being wrung out, and Cooper’s primal growls. Looking down at Cooper, you watched as the thickness of his fingers disappearing inside of your cunt, your orgasm soaking not just his hands, but his chest and stomach - eyes black as the sky above. There were so many things you wanted to say, but could not get them out - you were too far gone to speak. Cooper saw that you were twitching aimlessly, and took it as a sign to spot. Abruptly pulling his hands from your core, Cooper shoved his fingers into his mouth, sloppily sucking them clean as you watched with fervor.

You were a mess, one you knew you weren’t going to be coming back from anytime soon. It was too much – everything that you had been wanting played out, and yet still so much more needed to be said. “Coop! Why are you still here, my dude!” The young voice brought you out of your high, causing your eyes to focus back in on Cooper’s face – the front of his chest soaked with your essence. The gentle laugh emanating from the back of the firehouse made you shy away, feeling you turn in on yourself. Cooper didn’t get what was happening at first, not until the heavy bootsteps started to come towards you, making him scramble up on cracking knees. “Shit!” He let out in a whisper, the silent scream obvious as he wasted no time to grab your jacket – holding it closed on you as the footsteps haltered. “Oh hey ma-“ The young firefighter started, looking up from his phone at the same time. What he was met with, was the image of Cooper’s front pressed against you, your face heating with arousal and nerves as you buried it into Cooper’s neck, smelling a hard days work on his skin. Cooper flashed his coworker a taut smile, waving with his freehand, hoping he wouldn’t say anything. “Oh my god did you get laid?!” He yelled out, smacking the back of his phone against his hand as you erupted into a fit of laughter. You shook in Cooper’s arms as he laughed out loud as well, realizing there was no point of hiding it now. Looking up at Cooper, you watched as he slowly nodded towards his coworker, a few unruly strands of hair falling into his face.

Without missing a beat, the firefighter came over and smacked Cooper on his bare shoulders, going to his locker directly next to you and grabbing out his backpack. “Cooper, you’re my fucking hero dude!” He yelled as he ran out through the side entrance, waving off his fire chief, leaving you both alone again. The giggle fit going through the both of you made for a fun way to decompress after having the best orgasm of your life. No man had ever made you cum so hard – so precisely as well. It was like Cooper took you apart, and rebuilt you over and over; Each wave being harder than the last. Cooper took a deep breath in as he pressed his heated forehead to yours, the flush on his cheeks working its way back. “Let’s finish this at my house. Riley and Logan are staying with their mom this weekend.” You weren’t going to pass on this opportunity – especially now that you learned the names of his kids. It was a weird feeling, for both of you. Cooper never disclosed information about his kids to anyone – only those who he deemed important. He knew you were, and were going to be in his life for a while. He could already tell by the way you carried yourself  - they were going to love you as much as he could.

Nodding your head against Cooper, you pecked him gently on the lips – lingering for a moment and just focusing on the feeling. “I’m down, let me pack a bag.” The snicker Cooper omitted at your sentence made you perk up, cocking an eyebrow in his direction. Running his warm fingers over your cheeks, he grasped your chin firmly, yet soft – peering down into your eyes. “Oh sweetheart, that’s cute,” he began, biting at his bottom lip. The swirls of colors in your eyes caused his to ignite, flecks of reds and golds flitting around in his irises. His lips grazed your lips as he smirked, licking at you while he continued. “You’re not going to need anything when I am done with you.” Cooper whispered sensually, causing your cunt to pulsate. A weekend without clothes, Cooper between your thighs – was the best way to ring in the fall.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

No Exit | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? )

Warnings: Jo and reader are dicks to each other, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 5754

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You and the Winchester boys had been hunkered down in the rooms Ellen told you about the first time she met you for a few days now. You were grateful for her generosity while you and the brothers tried to pin down your next move with the demon or another hunt, but you were going stir crazy. You sat on the hood of the Impala under the shade of a tree pouring through newspapers. Sam and Dean approached you after a few hours of you researching.

“What are you doing to my baby?” Dean asked you.

“Dee, she’s fine, we’re bonding,” you said, tapping the spot next to you on the hood. “Nothing’s dented or broken; promise.”

He gave you a skeptical look but said nothing else.

“ ‘Sides, I was getting ready to come get you anyway,” you said, hopping down. “I think I got something. Los Angeles, California.”

“What’s in L.A.?” Sam asked.

“Young girl's been kidnapped by an evil cult,” you smirked.

“Yeah? Girl got a name?” 

“Katie Holmes.”

Dean chuckled, and a grin spread across your face. 

“Seriously, though, it’s like all things supernatural disappeared off the face of the earth,” you continued.

Dean turned his head toward the Roadhouse at the sound of a glass breaking. “Ooh, catfight.”

You grimaced and followed the boys into the bar cautiously. Ellen and Jo were arguing loudly about Jo wanting to go off and Ellen wanting her to stay at the Roadhouse or go back to school. She stopped shouting when she noticed you. “Guys, bad time.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Sam said. The three of you turned to leave.

Dean got one more quip in, saying, “Yeah, we rarely drink before ten anyway.”

“Funny, let’s go,” you deadpanned, grabbing his jacket lightly and pulling him to the door.

“Wait. I wanna know what they think about this,” Jo said.

At the sound of the creaking front door, you turned to see a family with two kids under three walking in wearing bright yellow “Nebraska is for Lovers” t-shirts.

Ellen continued to yell despite the customers that had entered. “I don't care what they think!”

The father of the two young kids cut Ellen off. “Are you guys open?”

Jo yelled, “No!” and her mother yelled, “Yes!”

The dad grimaced and shrank away. “We’ll just… check out the Arby’s down the road.”

The phone rang as the family left, and Ellen went to answer it. Jo turned to you and the brothers; her gaze mostly focused on Dean, per usual. 

“Three weeks ago, a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment.” She shoved a file at Dean. Dean looked down at it strangely.  “Take it, it won't bite,” she said.

“No, but your mom might,” he responded.

Jo’s lips pinched, still holding out the folder. He took it reluctantly as Jo continued explaining. “And this girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes. Only happens every decade or two so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer, or—”

Dean flipped through it and cut her off. “Who put this together? Ash?"

Jo smiled proudly. “I did it myself.”

Dean hummed, impressed, and you took the folder from him. You flipped through it, secretly hoping to find holes in it somewhere, but you couldn’t at first glance. You were impressed, too, much to your chagrin.

“I gotta admit. We hit the road for a lot less,” Sam added.

“Good. You like the case so much, you take it,” Ellen stated.

“Mom!”

“Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. And I won't lose you too. I just won't.”

Your gaze softened as you took in Ellen’s grief-stricken features. You could completely empathize with how that felt. And so, you and the brothers set off. 

***

“I feel kind of bad, snaking Jo's case,” Sam said as the three of you stalked around the deceased’s apartment.

“I don’t,” you said. “Her mom’s only trying to protect her.”

“Exactly. Maybe she put together a good file,” Dean added, “but could you see her out here working one of these things? I don't think so.”

You pulled out your EMF meter and continued walking around the very nice apartment. “What I wouldn’t give to have one of these,” you muttered. “You getting anything?”

“No, not yet,” replied Sam. Just as he spoke, you heard his meter beeping. He leaned over to something in front of him, and you walked over.

“What's that?” you asked.

“What?” Dean came up behind you as Sam reached down to the lightswitch and lightly touched it.

“Holy crap,” the younger Winchester said.

Dean reached forward, too. “That's ectoplasm. Well, Sam, I think I know what we're dealing with here. It's the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.”

You snickered. “Can we get through one hunt without a Ghostbusters reference, please?”

“Never.”

“Guys, focus, please,” Sam deadpanned. “I've only seen this stuff, like, twice. I mean, to make this stuff you have to be one majorly pissed off spirit.”

“Alright, let's find this badass before he snags any more girls,” Dean said. You followed him out of the apartment and immediately had to cling to a wall to avoid being seen by the approaching voices. Your face fell when you realized one of the voices was Jo’s.

“It is so spacious.” Her voice was getting closer. “You know, my friend told me I absolutely have to come check it out, and I have to admit, she was right. You did a really good job with this place.”

Dean stepped out suddenly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“There you are, honey,” Jo grinned, wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist. You could’ve killed her.  “This is my boyfriend Dean, and his buddies, Sam and (Y/N).”

“Good to meetcha,” the landlord said. “Quite a gal you've got here.”

Dean smacked her ass roughly, trying to convey his frustration to her. “Oh yeah, she's a pistol.”

“So, did you already check out that apartment? The one for rent,” Jo asked Dean.

“Yeah. Yes. Loved it. Heh. Great flow.”

“How'd you get in?” the landlord asked.

Dean swallowed harshly. “It was open.”

“Now, Ed, um, when did the last tenant move out?” Jo grinned back at the landlord.

“Oh, about a month ago. Cut and run, too. Stuck me for the rent.”

“Well. Her loss, our gain! 'Cause if Dean-o loves it, it's good enough for me.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Dean gritted through his teeth, smacking her again.

Jo pulled out a wad of cash. “We’ll take it.”

The landlord’s eyes widened, and he immediately brought you back to the front office to get a key.

***

You paced around the lovely apartment furiously at Jo re-hijacking the hunt you’d hijacked from her. 

“I’ll flip you for the sofa,” she said to you.

“Does your mom even know you’re here?” you asked.

“Told her I was going to Vegas.”

You scoffed. “She’s not stupid, She’s not gonna buy that.”

“I'm not an idiot,” Jo challenged. “I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos.”

Dean took your humorless laugh as an opportunity to jump in before you got any uglier. “You know, you shouldn't lie to your mom. Shouldn't be here, either.”

“Well, I am,” she said. “So untwist your boxers and deal with it.”

“Where'd you get all that money from, anyways?” Sam questioned.

She gave a prideful smile. “Working. At the Roadhouse.”

“Hunters don’t tip that well,” Dean replied.

“Well, they aren't that good at poker, either,” she smirked.

‘Take away her immaturity, inexperience, rashness, and massive crush on Dean, I probably could be friends with her,’ you thought.

Dean’s cell phone rang. “Yeah?” He answered, still glaring at Jo. “Oh, hi, Ellen.” Dean and Jo had a furious muttered argument before he said, “I haven’t seen her” back into the phone. “Yeah, I'm sure… Absolutely.” Dean hung up, and Jo grinned cheerfully.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” you hissed at Dean. “Ellen’s gonna murder us.”

“Seriously?” Jo folded her arms at you. “You’re scared of my mom?”

“No,” you spat back. “I just don’t wanna babysit the whole time I’m trying to hunt.”

“(Y/N), stop it,” Sam warned.

“Me? This chick has a death wish, and I need to ‘stop it’?” you snarked. “I’m going to get some air.” You stomped out of the room, Dean trailing behind you.

“(Y/N), where are you going?” he asked.

“Away,” you snorted. “She’s pissing me off. I’m not hunting with her.”

He grabbed your arm. “I’m not happy, either, but what’s this really about?”

You felt caught. “What?”

“You heard me. What’s goin’ on? You’re normally the one who has to talk me off the ledge. Not the other way around,” he said.

You lowered your voice. “I don’t trust her,” you began. “I don’t trust her to have any of our backs. All she’s tried to do thus far is get in your pants and act like an immature brat.

"She has potential, sure, and she’s smart, but she’s not one of us. And I have no idea what her skillset is. She pointed a rifle at you one time; we’ve never seen her use one. She could be an awful shot. And she has no idea how to actually kill anything. She’s, what, twenty-one, twenty-two? She didn’t grow up hunting. She has no experience.

"She doesn’t belong here. And you not telling Ellen she’s here was a huge mistake. Because now, she’s our responsibility. And like I said, I’m not babysitting. If it’s between you or Sam, and her, I’m saving you and Sam every time.”

Dean smirked down at you.

“What?” you hissed.

“You’re jealous,” he said simply.

“Seriously? Did you hear anything else I said?” You crossed your arms and quirked a brow.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I did, and I agree. I’ll watch her if you’ll watch Sam, okay? No blood on your hands if something happens to her,” he replied.

You shook your head. “No, Dean, I don’t like that, either—”

Dean smirked down at you. “What, don’t you trust me?”

“Of course, I do,” you replied. “I don’t trust her.”

He chuckled. “I think you said that already.”

“Just—” you huffed. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Dean snorted. “C’mon, it’s me we’re talking about. I’ll be fine. Will you come back and be civil now?” he asked.

“No promises.”

“Okay, I guess we’re doing this, then.” He raised his pinky at you, and you rolled your eyes.

“I can’t make a pinky promise I can’t keep,” you replied.

“That’s the point. You have to, so I know you’ll be civil.” Dean looked down at you, a challenge in his eyes and a smile plastered on his face.

“But—” you tried.

“No.”

“Dean,” you groaned but locked pinkies with him nonetheless.

“See, was that so hard?” he smirked down at you.

“You can’t use my own thing against me,” you said as you headed back to the apartment. “That’s against the rules of pinky promises.”

“Oh, there’s rules now?” Dean questioned playfully.

“There are when I say there are,” you responded flippantly, opening the door to the apartment.

Jo and Sam turned to face you, and you suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable. 

“Look, Jo—” you started.

“Save it. It’s fine,” she replied.

“Well, okay, then,” you mumbled, softly enough that only Dean could hear you mocking her. 

Dean gave you a warning look. “(Y/N).”

“I know, I know.”

***

You sat at the table with your laptop next to Sam as Dean paced around the room. Jo had been flipping her little knife around for the last thirty minutes while she looked over the blueprints for the apartment.

“This place was built in 1924. It was originally a warehouse, converted into apartments a few months ago,” she explained.

“Yeah? What was here before 1924?” Dean questioned.

“Nothing. Empty field.”

“So, most likely scenario, someone died bloody in the building, and now he's back and raising hell,” Sam added.

Jo shook her head. “I already checked. In the past eighty-two years, zero violent deaths. Unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor.” She looked up to Dean. “Would you sit down, please?”

Dean sat hesitantly at the head of the table, eyeing Jo guardedly. “So, have you checked police reports, county death records—”

“Obituaries, mortuary reports and seven other sources. I know what I'm doing,” she said.

“Jury’s still out on that one,” Dean replied. “Could you put the knife down?”

She complied, eyeing him angrily. He glared back.

Sam huffed. “Okay! So, uh, it's something else, then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it.”

“Meh, unless somebody’s got a relic from an Egyptian tomb, I’m not sure a cursed object has the kind of spirit power necessary to make ectoplasm,” you said. 

Jo completely ignored you. “Well, we've got to scan the whole building. Everywhere we can get to, right?”

“Right. So. You and me, we'll take the top two floors,” Dean said firmly. “Sam and (Y/N)’ll take the bottom two.”

“We'd move faster if we split up,” the blonde tried.

“Oh, this isn't negotiable,” Dean responded. 

***

You and Sam returned to the room way sooner than Dean and Jo did. The two of you found nothing of particular interest, unfortunately, and opted to just sprawl out on the couch and floor watching a rerun of Seinfeld. 

“I just wanted to tell you,” Sam began, “I don’t think you’re wrong about Jo. Just… tone it down a bit. My brother’s dickish enough to her.”

You sighed. “Dean made me pinky promise I would be civil, so you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

He scoffed. “My brother made you pinky promise?”

You giggled. “I introduced him to the concept.”

“What have you done to him?” Sam chuckled sarcastically. 

You shook your head. “I have no idea. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, either.”

Sam paused. “Have you… talked about it at all?”

You nodded your head from side to side as if to say, “sorta.” “I just don’t think now’s the right time. I mean, after your dad, I don’t wanna take advantage of that or him to use me as a distraction.”

He nodded in understanding. “I get it. But… I also don’t think Dean would use you.”

You shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.” You paused. “How are you holding up, by the way? We haven’t had much of an opportunity to hang out one-on-one recently.”

“Honestly? Not great,” he sighed. “I’m scared, man. I don’t know what’s happening or how to stop it. And I think my dad died thinking I hate him.” Tears began to well in his eyes. “I never should’ve said those things to him.”

You got up from the floor and went to sit next to him. You reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing firmly. “If it helps at all, I think my dad died thinking the same. And that feeling goes away after a while. I think both our dads knew that despite our many, many, many issues with each other, the bottom line is, we loved each other a lot.”

He squeezed your hand back and looked at you with sad, puppy-dog eyes. “I hope you’re right.”

The door opened to reveal Dean and Jo bickering and Dean’s fist clenched around a clump of blonde hair with skin attached to it. 

You giggled. “What, you hate each other that much that you ripped a piece of Jo’s hair out?”

Dean deadpanned, “No, smartass. We found this in a vent.”

Your stomach dropped. “Oh. Gross.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Dean grumbled. He opened the trash can in the room and dumped it inside.

“Alright, it’s getting late,” Jo stated. “Who’s sleeping where? There’s four of us, two beds, and a couch.”

“(Y/N) and I’ll take a bed,” Dean said casually almost immediately. “Sam’ll take the other. Jo, you got the couch.”

The three of you were stunned at Dean and his adamancy. 

Oh-kay,” Jo said, still shocked. 

“C’mon,” Dean said, jerking his head toward one of the rooms. He picked up your duffel bags and headed off.

You followed behind, saying “Goodnight, guys,” and shut the door behind you. You tapped the sides of your thighs with your palms as you stayed firmly planted by the door.

Dean seemed to feel a little awkward, too, and blew out a breath. “Was this… uh, okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah! Yeah. Sure. Why not? We’re adults. We’re friends. We can share a bed. No big.”

He chuckled. “You sure? You ramble when you’re nervous.”

“Nervous?” you laughed awkwardly. “Why would I be nervous?” He raised a brow at you, and you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’ve just… I’ve never… Hunting’s lonely. Even when I did hook up, I’d leave before I fell asleep.”

Dean seemed stunned. “Really? Why?”

“I don’t know, it just… felt too intimate, I guess? And I’ve never had anybody I seriously cared about that I’d want to experience that with,” you explained, sitting on the foot of the bed and kicking off your shoes.

His voice quieted considerably. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

You nodded. He seemed to understand what that meant, though both of you refused to talk about it. 

Dean showered, as did you, and then you climbed into bed next to one another. The two of you seemed to have scooted to the far edges of the bed, facing away from each other. After several minutes in silence, Dean spoke up.

“(Y/N)?” he murmured.

“Yeah?” 

“C’mere.” 

You could feel yourself getting flustered as you shuffled over to Dean, who now laid in the center of the bed. He opened his arms and wrapped them around you, allowing you to lay on his chest. You rested your hand on his stomach, and he took in a sharp breath.

“Should’ve cleaned the pipes,” he muttered.

You scoffed. “Perv,” and moved your arm across his stomach completely. You settled into him and drifted off to the most peaceful sleep you’d had in a while.

***

The next time you awoke, you felt arms around you, and you tensed. It took you a second to remember Dean was sleeping soundly next to you. His arms held tighter when he felt you shift, and you turned your face toward his. You smiled sadly at his beautiful, peaceful face, knowing this hunt would be the only time for quite a while that you’d get to wake up to him. You closed your eyes and nuzzled back into him, only to feel him groan above you; beginning to awaken.

“Morning,” he said. His sleepy voice was incredibly attractive. His arms didn’t move from around you.

A smile spread across your face. “G’morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Great, actually,” he admitted. He almost looked sad and regretful as he looked down at you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“You’re confusing me again,” Dean said.

You looked away from him, understanding. Your face fell, too. “You’re confusing me, too.”

“I want to… be more to you so bad,” he began, “but I can’t. I’m tired, (Y/N). I’m so fucking tired. I’m tired of this job, I’m tired of dealing with my dad, I’m tired of… all of it.”

“I know,” you said. “So, what do you want us to do? Do you— Do you want me to leave?”

“No, god, no,” he said quickly. “I don’t know what I want.”

You snorted. “Well, what is it you don’t want? Why don’t we start there?”

He considered for a moment. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You won’t,” you immediately said.

“Will you let me finish?”

“Sorry.”

He sighed. “I don’t wanna name and claim anything right now. I don’t wanna be just your best friend, but I also— I don’t think I can—” Dean paused and took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t be able to give you what I want to give you right now. I can’t be what you deserve.”

“Dean,” you said. “This is a very low-pressure situation. I know you and I can’t go there right now. I know that. And… I want to, too. I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about… anybody else.” You swallowed tensely, not sure if you’d said too much. “I— I want you to heal. And I know you’re tired. And I know it’s awful. And I hope that one day, I can make things better for you. But I also know that you have to fix you first. But until then, we can just be us. I won’t initiate anything. I need you to come to me when you’re ready. And until then, we’ll just be you and me.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

You smiled softly. “Always.”

***

After you and Dean talked things over a bit, you learned from Sam that another girl had died. Dean was off to investigate the room while you, Sam, and Jo researched. Jo wouldn’t look at you with anything but disgust after you spent the night with Dean. Her schoolgirl-ish crush was beginning to really just annoy you more than make you jealous.

Dean burst through the door. “Teresa Ellis, Apartment 2F. Boyfriend reported her missing around dawn.”

“And her apartment?” Jo questioned.

“Cracks all over the plaster, walls, ceiling. There was ectoplasm, too.”

“Well, between that and that tuft of hair, I'd say this sucker's coming from the walls,” Sam added.

“But who is it? Building's history is totally clean,” Dean reminded you.

There were various pictures and blueprints from Jo’s file spread across the table between you, Sam, and Jo. You picked up a picture of the field where the apartments now stood. Next to it was a building with bars on its windows. “Check this out. We’re next door to a prison.” 

“Nice going, (Y/N),” Sam grinned. 

Jo pulled out her phone. “I’ll call Ash—”

“No,” you shook your head, standing. “Let me figure this one out. Something about this is sounding really familiar to me, and it’s gonna bother me if I’m not the one to nail it down.”

“And what a shame that would be,” Jo snarked.

You glared at her as you continued to pace around the room. “Blonde hair, in the walls, prison, field, Philadelphia…” you murmured to yourself. You repeated it over and over to yourself until something struck you. “H. H. Holmes,” you breathed. “Holy shit.”

“What? What about him?” Sam questioned, straightening in his seat.

“That was his whole thing! He was really, and I mean, really into blondes— though, he’d kill just about anybody— had his whole ‘murder castle’ thing in Chicago, and the feds tracked him all the way to Boston. They brought him back to Philly, and he was hanged. Hence, field. Fields next to old prisons were almost always used for hangings,” you explained.

“What do you mean, ‘murder castle’?” Jo questioned. “And how do you know all this?”

“I like true crime,” you shrugged. “He built all these fake walls, fake hallways; his place was a fucking maze. Acid vats, trap doors, quicklime pits all up in his basement— although most of that was probably sensationalized— but anyway, this guy was a complete freak. ‘Multi-murderer’ was first used to describe him before they knew what serial killers were. He confessed to twenty-seven murders, but he probably killed over a hundred. He, uh, he used chloroform to kill his victims.”

Dean nodded, “Which is what I smelled in the hallway last night.”

“At his place,” you continued, “cops found human remains, bone fragments, and long locks of bloody blonde hair.”

Dean snickered at Jo. “Boy, you sure know how to pick 'em.”

“Well, we just find the bones, salt 'em and burn 'em, right?” she said, anxiously.

“Nope. His body’s in town encased in a couple tons of concrete,” you responded.

“What, why?” she asked.

“Didn’t want anybody fuckin’ with his corpse. ‘Cause, y’know, that’s what he did,” you cringed. 

“Wait, (Y/N), that means Teresa could still be alive. Inside the walls,” Sam added.

You nodded. “Yeah. Poor girl.”

“We need sledgehammers, crowbars. We've got to smash these walls; anywhere thick enough to hide a girl,” Dean barked out, hurriedly moving around the apartment.

***

You went with Sam, and Dean went with Jo as he promised you he would. Sam couldn’t get too far into the crawl-spaces of the walls, and you insisted on pressing forward. If you could get through, then the space was big enough to hide a girl. 

“(Y/N), holler if you need, okay?” Sam called to you.

“I’m good, dude, I promise. But you do the same.” You continued to wriggle through winding, claustrophobia-inducing corridors till you came face to face with the man himself; H. H. Holmes. Although, this version of the famed serial killer was a lot more gray, decayed, and gaunt than the one you’d seen in pictures. You screamed, “Sam!” before the world went dark.

***

You next awoke in a box that eerily mirrored a coffin; it was made of wood and just big enough for you to lay down in. You pointed your flashlight up at the ceiling to see long, deep, bloodied gashes in the wood; presumably nail marks. You huffed out a shaky breath, collecting yourself, when you noticed a slit in the wood to your right. A noise startled your already shaken mind, and you heard Jo say, “Hello?” You refused to talk, worried that it would upset Holmes even more.

You heard another woman’s voice coming from a different part of the room. “Is- Is anybody there?”

Jo continued talking. “Your name's Teresa? This won't make you feel better, but I'm here to rescue you.”

“Oh, god. He's out there; he's gonna kill us!” Teresa cried.

“No, he won't. We're getting out,” Jo insisted. “My friends are looking for us; they'll find us.”

Footsteps fell eerily nearby, and you could vaguely make out something approaching you.

“Oh, god, he's here!” Teresa sobbed.

“Shh! Just be quiet!” Jo scolded.

‘So much for being quiet, Jo,’ you thought. The next thing you heard was Jo screaming in pain, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from calling out to her.

You took a knife out of your belt and began hacking at the wall. You kicked with all your might until you finally started to break through a little. Suddenly, a man’s mouth appeared at the opening you were making in the wood. 

“You're so pretty. So beautiful,” the spirit cooed, reaching in your cell to stroke your cheek. You cringed and turned away, groaning in disgust. You turned back and stabbed it with your knife, the spirit crying out before disappearing again. You went back to kicking and hacking at the door with even more force than before. At long last, the paneling came loose, and you laughed in relief. You pried the rest of the paneling away from the wall and rolled out onto the floor, catching yourself before you toppled over completely. When you stood and dusted off your hands, Holmes appeared behind you and clasped a hand over your mouth. You kicked and struggled against him, screaming behind his hand muffling you. You wrestled with him a bit more before the spirit suddenly let you go. He disappeared completely when you heard a gunshot go off.

“(Y/N)!” Dean ran into the room, holding a shotgun.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Holy shit, I’m so happy to see you.” You ran to him and wrapped your arms around him.

“Um, little help, here!” Jo said from her box. 

You ran to the wall next to her and picked up a crowbar lying nearby. You began prying the cell open, groaning strenuously as you did so. When it finally released, you helped Jo down. “You okay?” you asked her.

“Been better. Let's get the hell out of here before he comes back,” she answered.

“I’m not leaving here just yet,” you said.

“(Y/N), no—” Dean protested firmly. He seemed to understand what you were doing.

“What other plan do you have, Dean?” “Wait, what’s going on here?” Jo questioned.

“(Y/N)’s gonna use herself as bait,” he explained. 

“What, would you rather Jo be bait? I don’t think so,” you said flippantly. “Now, get them out of here.” You gestured to Sam to help a frightened Teresa and Jo out of the room. 

***

You sat in the center of the room completely unmoving. You sat cross-legged, breathing evenly. You’d learned long ago how to steel yourself to these situations. You grinned slightly when Holmes began to approach you. When he got very close, Dean yelled, “Now!” and Sam and Dean began shooting the bags of salt you’d strung up to the ceiling to create a perfect circle of salt around the spirit. You ran out of the circle, leaving Holmes trapped inside. He wailed and growled at you, running around the salt circle pathetically.

“Scream all you want, you dick, but there's no way you're stepping over that salt!” you laughed coldly.

You and the brothers climbed back up out of the sewer and closed the grate, fully silencing Holmes’ howls.

***

“So? This job as glamorous as you thought it would be?” Sam asked Jo as the three of you stood over the top of the closed sewer..

“Well, except for all the pee-your-pants terror, yeah. Sure. But that Teresa girl's gonna live a life because of us. It's worth it, isn't it?” Jo replied.

You nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

“Hey, what if somebody finds that sewer down there, or a storm washes the salt away?” she questioned.

Sam chuckled. “Both very fine points. Which is why we're waiting here.”

“For what?”

As if on cue, you heard the beeping of a large truck backing up. You grinned over your shoulder at Dean backing up the cement truck he’d stolen, and motioned for him to stop when the spout lined up over the sewer’s entrance.

Dean got out of the cab and came to stand next to you.

“You ripped off a cement truck?” Jo scoffed.

“We’ll give it back,” you shrugged. You turned a lever on the side of the truck and watched the cement pour down into the entrance. 

“Well, that oughta keep him down there till hell freezes over,” Dean grinned.

***

As you and the brothers were heading out with Jo in tow, Ellen appeared at the entrance of the apartments, intense anger bubbling just under the surface. You and the boys cringed at the sight of her.

“Mom—” Jo began.

“Not now.”

She forced the five of you to ride back to the Roadhouse in complete silence. Ellen sat in the front seat, staring blankly ahead, and you were sandwiched between Jo and Sam in the back.

Dean chuckled awkwardly. “Boy, you– you really weren't kidding about flying out, were you?”

“You told her?!” you couldn’t help but blurt out.

Ellen scowled at you in the rearview mirror. You shrunk under her gaze. 

“How about we listen to some music?” Dean flicked the radio on. Ellen immediately reached forward and flicked the radio off.

You looked up to Dean, who looked back to you.

“This is gonna be a long drive,” he muttered.

***

Ellen dragged her daughter into the Roadhouse by her elbow, and you and the brothers followed closely.

“Ellen? This is my fault. Okay?” Dean tried. “I lied to you and I'm sorry. But Jo did good out there. I think her dad would be proud.”

Ellen whipped around, angrily commanding, “Don't you dare say that. Not you. I need a moment with my daughter. Alone.”

The three of you left and loitered around in silence for the next few minutes. Jo stormed out of the Roadhouse soon after, tossing a glance to Dean to incentivize him to follow her.

“That bad, huh?” he asked as he walked after her.

“Not right now.”

“What happened? Hey, talk to me.” He grabbed her arm and spun her around.

Jo immediately jerked her arm out of Dean's grasp. “Get off me!”

“Sorry. See you around,” he said, turning back to you and Sam.

“Dean,” Jo’s broken voice called.

He turned back to the blonde.

“It turns out my dad had a partner on his last hunt. Funny, he usually worked alone; this guy did too, but,” she swallowed her forming tears, “I guess my father figured he could trust him. Mistake. Guy screwed up, got my dad killed.”

The older brother’s face scrunched up. “What does this have to do with—”

“It was your father, Dean.”

Dean scoffed. “What?”

“Why do you think John never came back? Never told you about us? Because he couldn't look my mom in the eye after that, that's why,” Jo spat.

“Jo—” Dean tried.

“Just... just get out of here. Please, just leave.”

The three of you did as Jo asked. You headed back to Bobby’s to regroup and find yourselves another hunt. Dean was silent on the multi-hour-long drive back. When you stopped at Bobby’s house, Sam went inside. Dean stayed seated in his car, and you stayed with him.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

He scoffed. “ ‘What’s wrong’? Did you hear anything Jo said?”

“I did, I just wanted to see what’s goin’ on in your head,” you replied, unfazed by his attitude.

He shook his head and sighed. “If Ellen hated my dad so much and didn’t trust us at all, then why the fuck would she have called my dad in the first place?”

You nodded, getting out of the car; followed by Dean. “Yeah, I don’t get it,” you agreed. “She wants to get involved with your personal family shit and the demon and let us bunk at her place, and then bring up old crap you and Sam weren’t even a part of? I mean, I get that John did something that got ‘im killed, but I really don’t see how that’s your fault.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled. “At least we don’t have to babysit anymore.”

You snorted. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess. But you don’t have to pretend you’re not bothered by it. I know you are.”

He scoffed.

“Dean. I know you are. And I also know that I trust you with my life. And you know I don’t trust easily. You are not your father.” You walked up the steps into Bobby’s house, leaving Dean in the junkyard to mull over your words.

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

[pucked-bunnie]

not so bad ⎜j.drysdale

pairings: jamie drysdale x plus sized! reader genre: fluff warnings: mentions of injury ⎜ slight mention of body discrimination synopsis: after jamie was traded you finally made it to one of your best friends games - you didn't expect things to go so horribly. word count: 5k authors note: there are obviously a few discrepancies from the actual game when jamie got injured but this is what must happen for cute stories. (UNEDITED)

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“And please for the love of god, Trevor, don’t forget to lock the door when you leave.” You grumble as you slide out of the passenger side, scurrying around to the trunk to retrieve your suitcase - Trevor already pulling the hard cased bag from the car, placing it on the side walk for you. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think I can manage to look after your cat for a week.” He huffs, waving your off as you raise your brow at him. You had spent the last thirty minutes in the car making sure he knew how to care for your six month old kitten - despite the cat already being quite self sufficient and having an automatic feeder you wanted to make sure someone was checking on him at least once a day, hence your stressed instructions to Trevor on the drive to the airport. 

“Okay, I’m trusting you.” You say, pulling your keys out of your pocket and handing them over to the eager hockey player. 

“Me and bean are going to have so much fun.” He coos, shoving the keys into his pocket before reaching over and giving you a tight squeeze. “Make sure to tell him I’ll be watching his game.” He adds and you nod, squeezing him back before stepping onto the pathway pulling your suitcase with you as you watch Trevor pull away from the curb. 

You tug your phone from your pocket checking your flight information one last time before heading inside to check in. After Jamie had been traded almost a month ago you had been with little to no contact while he settled in to his new environment, both you and Trevor feeling the effects of your quiet best-friends absence. 

It was when you finally managed to catch Jamie between his schedules he invited you to Philadelphia to visit him, requesting your help in setting up his new apartment in the city - he luckily had managed to snag a fully furnished apartment - in his words it just needed a ‘piece of home’, so the two of you had quickly managed to book in a week for you to fly to Philadelphia. 

With Trevors reckless driving you had managed to make it to your flight with an hour to spare, taking your time at the cafe near your boarding gate to scroll mindlessly on your phone until you heard the first calls for your flight to board. With an estimated flight time of five and a half hours you were very glad for the kindle Jamie had gifted you at the last Christmas dinner. 

“I know we said we weren’t doing presents this year but I wanted to get you something I thought you’d find useful.” Jamie had whispered as he leaned over to your side as the conversation continued in the room. He placed the small wrapped gift in your lap with a nervous smile his eyebrows raised in anticipation as he waits for you to unwrap the gift. 

“I wrapped it myself.” He adds quickly, pointing out the red wrapping paper covered in Mario characters holding presents. You send him a quick smile before ripping the paper open gently - tucking the remnants into your bag to add to your keepsake box in the back of your closet - you pull out the amazon branded box looking down at the kindle now in your lap with a growing smile. 

“I know how much you love to read and my mum recommended this one.” Jamies explains before pointing to the torn box, “I already took the liberty to download some that my mum said you’d like and I put a gift card in the box so you can buy some more when you feel like it.” 

You can feel your heart beating against your chest as you look up at the sweet boy besides you, his hands fiddling in his lap as he waits for you to say something. “It’s perfect, Jamie.” You mumble, smiling at him with a short nod as you close the distance between you placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” You add shifting back in your seat as Jamie does the same a bright red tinge on his cheeks. 

That was almost a year ago and you had filled the kindle with over a hundred books since then, somehow managing to convince Jamie to get one for himself after he had listen to your high praise for the device. 

Sliding into your seat on the plane and placing your kindle on your lap you sent a quick message to your trios group chat. 

‘Princess Peach 🍑 : on the plane about to take off - should be there around six tonight.’ 

‘Mario 🥸: I’ll be waiting’

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲: me and beans are excited for you to be gone.’ Trevor sends with a photo of your kitten glaring up at the man, quickly followed by another message. 

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲: hey who changed my name.’ 

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲: I’m supposed to be Luigi.’

‘ Mario 🥸 : lol.’  You chuckle at the messages before switching your phone to airplane mode and tucking it into your pocket, sliding your headphones over your ears as the flight attendants finish their spiel on safety and move to their own seats. 

+

+

Six hours in a small seat trying to avoid making any contact with the person sitting besides you really has a way of stiffening every muscle in your body. You roll your shoulders as you wait for the others in your row to gather their belongings, deciding it best to wait for most of the flight to empty out before attempting to make your own way. 

As soon as you had turned off airplane mode on your phone, it had started dinging with messages. 

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲: I’m changing my name back.’

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲 has set the nickname to Luigi 👴🏻’

‘Luigi 👴🏻: that’s so much better.’ 

‘Mario 🥸 has set the nickname to donkey kong 🦍’ 

‘ donkey kong 🦍 : knock it off.’ 

‘ donkey kong 🦍 : @princess peach🍑 please tell him to stop bullying me’

‘Mario 🥸: she would never’ 

‘Princess Peach 🍑: I would never’  you respond quickly before deeming it time to grab your bag from the overhead storage and follow your fellow passengers off the plain, making sure to bid a quick ‘thank you’ to the flight attendants standing by the exit. Your phone dings again in your hand as you making it into the boarding area. 

‘bestfriend ❤️: I’m waiting outside your flights baggage collection - do you still have the white suitcase?’ Jamies message albeit simple gives you butterflies, the idea that after so long apart you were finally going to see him made you giddy. 

‘trevor’s bestie ❤️: yep, the one with the blue tag on the side.’  You send your reply frowning at the sudden change in nick name, Trevor must’ve have figured out your passcode again. You roll your eyes but tuck your phone back into side pocket of your leggings, pulling on the hoodie from your carry on, knowing Philadelphia this time of year was a lot colder than Anaheim. 

Jamie is easy to spot in front of the baggage carousel, his eyes focused on the passing bags as he waits for yours to slide past him. You watch him with a soft smile as he steps forwards to help a lady pull her oversized suitcase off the line before helping another lady besides her, nodding quickly as they thank him, stepping forwards once more to pull your bag off the line, placing it delicately at his side as he glances around the waiting area, pulling his phone quickly from his pocket his thumbs typing. 

‘bestfriend ❤️: I have taken your bag hostage - if you wish for it to be returned you must be in front of me in the next 60 seconds.’  Your phone dings with the arrival of the message, your feet moving quickly as you sneak up behind him, tapping his shoulder lightly once your reach him. 

“Miss me?” You question cheerfully, Jamie’s eyes widening as he turns around. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually get here this fast.” He says, placing a hand on his chest as he lets out a shaky breath, “Scared the crap out of me.” 

“Sorry.” You apologise waiting for him to move before deciding it’s best if you initiate contact. Throwing your arms over his shoulders, you pull him in for a tight hug, his arms immediately wrapping around your waist as he hoists you up, his arms pulling you in even closer as your feet dangle off the floor.

“I personally didn’t miss you at all.” You chuckle into his neck as he sways a little his own face buried into your shoulder, you can feel the grin on his lips as he gently places you down on the ground, not quite letting go of you yet. 

“I missed you so much.” He mumbled, nuzzling into your shoulder a little more before finally pulling away, his hand grabbing for your suitcase as his other hand reaches out for yours. 

“Trevor wanted me to tell you he’d be watching the game tomorrow.” You say as you take hold of Jamie’s hand, letting him lead the way out of the airport. 

“He better be.” Jamie says, “he has nothing better to do these days.” 

+

+

The drive to Jamie’s new place from the airport takes longer than normal, as he stops around to pick up a few bits a pieces to help make your stay with him more comfortable - snacks being his highest priority. 

“I know it’s not the fanciest but its cozy and it has two bedrooms so it was perfect for friends to come visit.” Jamie warns as he parks his car in the garage under his building. You’re quick to roll your eyes at his statement, if the outside of the building was anything to go by the apartment was going to be more than ‘cozy’. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” You respond, undoing your seatbelt and slipping out of the car, dragging your backpack with you trying to make your way to grab your suitcase before Jamie could beat your to it. 

You’ll give him one thing, for how built he was, he could move faster then most people. Jamie grins as he pulls your suitcase from the trunk of his car, holding it in one hand the other grabbing for the grocery bags. “Too slow.” He teases as he shuts the trunk, guiding you to the elevator. 

You just watch as he gets in the moving metal box scanning his access key and pressing the tenth floor your reasonably heavy suitcase comfortable in his hand. “You know the suitcase has wheels, right?” You question. 

“Yep.” Jamie says quickly, nodding his head as he adds, “But how would I show off how strong I am, if I just wheeled it around.” His statement pulls a shocked laugh from you as the elevator stops announcing it’s arrival on the tenth floor. Jamie once again moves quickly walking to his door and pressing a few numbers into the keypad. 

“Not fancy, my ass.” You grumble as he pushes his door open, moving inside placing your suitcase by the door, and the groceries on the dining room table. 

“Welcome.” He exclaims arms out wide as he lets you take in his space. It was definitely fully furnished, the house looking like it came from a home decor magazine, but it didn’t have the comfort a home should have. Jamie had already started adding a few decorations of his own, his and Trevors ducks jerseys hanging side by side in large frames besides the living room T.V, a few photo frames with his friends and family lining the shelves besides the window. 

“This place is great, Jamie.” You exclaim, as you reach for your suitcase, lying it on the floor as you dig around for your present. “But you were right when you said it was missing something.” You continue finally grabbing hold of the rolled up fabric in your bag. 

You smile as you hand it to him watching the fabric unroll, the man looking down at the blanket in confusion. “Your mum sent me some of your old jerseys that weren’t going to any use, and Trevor asked the equipment manager if I could have some ducks ones as a parting gift.” You begun to explain, motioning to the logos from the jerseys of every team he had played on. “Most of it is made up of jerseys from your time with the ducks, and I had to buy a Philadelphia one to finish it off.” You finish motions to the orange square at the bottom of the blanket. 

“You made me a blanket?” Jamie asks quietly. 

You nod. 

“Out of all my old jerseys?” He asks again. 

You nod.

“Do you like it?” You asks slowly, watching his face for any sign of distain. Jamie glances towards you for a moment before taking off down the hallway, his feet sliding against the wooden floorboards as he enters the room at the end of the hall. 

“It’s perfect.” He yells, your feet moving to follow him. You glance around the corner into the bedroom, Jamie smoothing the blanket over his bed with one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen. “It’s perfect.” He says again. 

“Well, I’m glad you like it.” You respond, your hands clasped behind your back, “Now show me my room.” 

+

+

“Are you sure your okay to make your own way there?” Jamie asks as he straightens out his dark grey suit, his hair freshly washed and pushed away from his forehead. Your night with Jamie had consisted of Chinese takeaway and a lot of gossip about Trevors new girlfriend - the two of you eventually falling asleep on the couch while watching ‘love is blind’ on Netflix. 

You had woken up in the guest room, unsure how Jamie had managed to move you with such ease. 

“I’ll be fine, it’s like a ten minute Uber.” You reassure, reaching out the smooth out the collar on his shirt. Jamie was heading to the rink early as most players did on game day, wanting the chance to start warming up and checking their equipment. 

“Oh before I forget.” Jamie says quickly, reaching into his practice bag pulling out a large ID hanging on a lanyard. “I grabbed you one of these so you have access to the family room if it’s too overwhelming down near the ice, it also gets you free food at the concession stands.” He says quickly handing you the lanyard. 

‘Jamie Drysdale - Friends and Family - All Access’ Printed in large letters on the front, the lanyard covered in big block letters spelling out ‘VIP’ 

“You didn’t have to Jamie, you already got me those rink side tickets.” You complain looking down at the pass again. 

“Well I didn’t have to pay for this - and it’s just in case of emergencies, I don’t want you to get stuck with security if you need something.” He explains and you nod slowly, tucking the pass close to your chest as you glance up at him. “I’ll see you after the game, okay? Meet me near the locker room.” He says softly, reaching forwards to tuck a lose piece of hair behind your ear. 

The silence is thick between the two of you - Jamie hand resting on the side of your neck as he opens his mouth to say something, closing it quickly after. He doesn’t say anything as he shoots you another grin, picking up his phone and keys by the door, quietly exiting his apartment. 

You let out a long sigh, the feeling of his hand still tingling on your skin. 

Now was probably a good time to get ready. 

+

+

You checked your outfit one more time in the mirror - the flared leggings doing wonders to make your legs look longer and slimmer, you favourite hoodie layered under one of Jamie’s new Philadelphia jerseys - usually you wouldn’t wear a jersey to a game often feeling they made you look awkward and desperate when hanging around with your two friends, but for the first game you were watching of Jamie’s in his new team you felt it was necessary to show your support. 

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, your grab the spare set of keys Jamie had left for you, tapping on your phone to order the Uber to take you to the rink. The car arrived quickly, game days often being a easy money making day for Uber drivers, the man greeting you and confirming your destination as you slide into the backseat of his car. 

“You a Philly fan?” The drivers asks as he glances at you in the rearview mirror. 

“Not really - I’m actually from Anaheim but my friend recently moved here and I just wanted to support him.” You explain the driving nodding before asking. 

“Your boyfriend, is he a player?” 

“Oh no, we’re just friends.” You correct the driver raising an eyebrow as he turns his gaze back to the road. 

“Not many friends would fly across the country to watch a hockey game.” The driver continues, a smile breaking out on his face as you stare like a deer caught in headlights. “Must be some friendship you two have.” He adds driving the needle further into your chest as you think about your friendship. 

The crowds begin to grow as you close in on the rink, the driver giving you a kind smile as he stops outside the front entrance. “I hope you have fun at the game.” The driver says as you swing open the back door, “Tell your friend how lucky he is to have you.” He adds as you shut the door, you can see him smiling as the car pulls away from the curb, shaking your head at the friendly mans antics. 

As you make your way into the building scanning your ticket at the front door - grabbing a quick bottle of water from a concession stand before making your way to your seat just in time to see both teams fly onto the ice for warm ups. Taking your seat you smile at the two girls sitting a few seats down, pulling your phone out of you pockets to snap photos of number 9. 

‘Jamie’s not-so-bestie 😈: snapped a few photos of our special little guy.’ You send the message to Trevor rolling your eyes at yet another name change in your phone. 

A hard bang on the glass has you looking up from your phone, Jamie staring down at you with furrowed brows. “Trevor.” You mouth his head nodding, as he flicks his puck into his hand, showing it to you before throwing it over the glass, the puck easily caught in your hands. Jamie watches you as he take a few steps away from your seat, handing it over to the girls sitting a little further away. 

“He wanted me to pass this to you.” You say as you hand it to one of the girls, both letting out high pitched squeals as they glance towards your best friend. 

“Where’s your pass?” He mouths through the glass, motioning his hands around his neck, your hand tapping your bag, pulling out one corner to show him where your stored it. He nods quickly, waving a quick goodbye as he skates away, doing a few laps around the ice before stopping to stretch closer to the bench. 

“I always knew Jamie would be into bigger girls.” One of the teenagers exclaims, both looking you up and down before leaning together and whispering. “She is really pretty though.” The others replies. 

You glance down at yourself with a sigh, settling back into your seat, your arms wrapped around yourself.  The game starts soon after the flyers and penguins taking to the ice in a close game. You watch on the edge of your seat as Jamie moves quickly around the ice - occasionally taking a second to respond to one of Trevors messages. The first period ends with the penguins ahead by one - Jamie exiting the ice with slumped shoulders. 

You knew how tough on himself Jamie could be when the game wasn’t going his way - and being on a new time, you could guess the pressure he was putting on himself was multiplied. Waiting for the second period you glance down at your phone, liking a photo on your instagram before a tap on your shoulder catches your attention. 

“So, do you know him or something?” One of the girls ask as she takes a seat next to you, her friend moving to sit besides her as they both wait for your answer. 

“Or something.” You respond, looking back to your phone as it dings. 

‘bestfriend ❤️: does the game look as bad as it feels?’ You move to respond before one of the girls asks another question. 

“So are you two dating?” She says and you shrug waiting as she adds, “you just don’t seem like the type to be with a hockey player.” Her friend slaps her shoulder as they both giggle, “You can’t say that.” He friend laughs as you just roll your eyes typing quickly on your phone. 

‘trevor’s bestie ❤️: the game is tight. You’re playing great.’ You send the message to Jamie. The two girls remain besides you as the second period starts, the flyers managing a goal to tie the game, the play moving fast as the penguins manage to score a third goal with less than nine minutes left in the period. 

You try to stay positive, hockey being a game where score reversals can happen so fast, the play restarting at centre ice the puck making its way back and forth on the ice before being hit high into the air. Jamie skates his way to the red line, swatting the puck back down to the ice before taking off with it. 

He gets past one penguin making his way into the offensive zone before he gets rammed into - his body hits the ice hard, you can see his mouth open in a pain filled hiss as he rolls to his side, his right hand gripping his left shoulder. 

“Shit.” You curse, jumping up from your seat as you watch him move. Jamie makes his way onto his feet, his left arm hanging limply by his side, the boy skating quickly off the ice into the locker room. You ignore the fans cheering as the two teams go head to head in a scrum, your mind racing as you take two stairs at a time. 

‘Jamie’s real bestie 😈 is calling.’ 

“Is he okay? What the fuck was that.” Trevor yells into the phone, as you speed walk through the building. 

“I don’t know - he didn’t look okay.” You respond stopping one of the workers who’s in a Philadelphia branded shirt. “Excuse me, do you know where the locker room is?” You question, the man looking at you with confusion as you fish around in your bag, your phone still pressed to your ear as you grab hold of the VIP pass. 

“It’s his shoulder, Trev. It looked dislocated.” You say into your phone as the man walks quickly with you behind him, stopping outside a roped off area, whispering quietly to one of the security guards who slowly walks away. “I’m going to see if I can check on him.” Trevor swears a few times before making you promise to text him once you know if Jamie is okay, the two of you ending the phone call quickly as the security guard comes back. 

“We don’t let most people in the locker room.” The security guard says quickly and you nod. “Can I see your pass please.” He adds quickly, handing over the lanyard and pass as he glances over it. His eyes widen a little as he sees the players name on your pass before handing it back to you. 

“What’s your relation to the player?” The security guard asks and you hesitate. 

“His girlfriend.” You splutter out the guard nodding before holding up one of the ropes for you to slip under - he motions for you to follow behind him as he walks to the entrance of the room, holding out a hand for you to stop. 

“We have someone claiming to be Jamie’s girlfriend outside, she wants to come in.” You heard the guard say into the room, a few people mumble back words of confusion and disagreement with letting you inside. 

“Let her in.” Jamie voice cuts through, before he lets out a painful whimper, “Please.” He adds quickly. You don’t wait for permission, rounding the corner to walk into the locker room, a small gasp escaping you as you take in Jamie. His eyes are squeezed shut as the trainers work carefully to remove his pads, his shoulder clearly out of it’s socket. 

Jamie lets out another yelp as they lift his arm to unclip the chest pads, both trainers apologising as they gently place it back by his side. You take a few steps forwards, Jamie’s eyes opening at the sound of your approaching, his bright blue eyes finding yours as he reaches out his right hand. 

“Oh Jamie.” You sigh as you take his hand in yours, your other reaching out to move his hair out of his face. He lets out a long sigh as he turns his head to face your, burying it in your stomach as he lets out a long groan as the trainers rotate his arm slowly, your face scrunching in a grimace as you watch the joint slide back into place, your hand stroking gently across his hair. 

Jamie lets out a sigh of relief as the trainers drop his arm into his lap, the joint now comfortable back in the socket. “Are you okay?” You ask, Jamie just nodding his head against you, his body melting into your side as your hand moves from his hair to rub soft circles on his back. 

“Lucky for you Jamie, I think we’ve saved you a trip to the ER.” The trainer says pulling out a triangle bandage, making quick work of wrapping Jamie’s arm in a sling “Bad news is you’ll still have to go to the hospital for an X-ray to make sure everything is where it is meant to be.” The trainer adds, finishing off Jamie’s sling before turning to you. 

“Are you in a position to drive him over?” The trainer questions and you nod quickly, “We will ring ahead to try and get you two in and out as quickly a possible.” You thank the trainer, before moving Jamie’s head away from your body, crouching down in front of him. 

“Do you wanna get changed before we go?” You ask, Jamie just nodding slowly, his eyes shooting over to the equipment manager already holding a fresh set of clothes. “I’ll wait outside, okay?” You reassure pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before leaving the room. 

‘Jamie’s not-so-bestie 😈: He’s okay, left shoulder was dislocated but one of the trainers managed to get it back in, so we’re heading to the hospital to get a quick X-ray.” You send the message to Trevor, your gaze lifting from your phone as Jamie trudges out of the locker room, his arm tight in his sling, a black hoodie thrown on with a pair of sweatpants. 

“They know you’re coming, just go straight to the imaging wing and give them Jamies name.” The trainer explains, handing Jamies backpack to you with a gentle smile. He pats Jamie on the back before heading back into the room. Jamies free hand reaches out to grip yours, pulling you in the direction of the parking garage. 

“Thank you.” Jamie says quietly as you reach his car, throwing his bag in the backseat before helping him slide into the passenger side. 

“Theres no need to thank me, Jamie.” You reassure, racing around to get into the drivers seat. As soon as you’ve reversed out of the spot, Jamie’s hand finds your again, his fingers laced with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand softly. You glance over at him every now and then, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw tight as the car jostles him. 

“We’ll be home before you know it.” You coos, trying to drive as smoothly as possible. 

+

+

Jamie’s trainer was right, the trip to the hospital couldn’t have been more then an hour, the doctor giving Jamie the all clear to go home with some pain relief and instructions for strict rest, he would be in touch with the Philadelphia team to decide on a treatment plan. 

Jamie is silent as you drive the two of you back to his apartment, his hand never leaving yours as you make your way into his apartment moving him over to the couch in front of the TV. 

“I’m gonna grab you some food and water so you can take your pills.” You say quickly, but Jamie just shakes his head, his hand squeezing yours as he pulls you back to him. 

“Just stay.” He says softly, “Sit with me for a little.” He adds, his head falling to your shoulder as you take the spot besides him on the couch. Both your hands clasp his, fiddling with his fingers as his breathing slows. 

“Thank you.” He says again. 

“You really don’t have to thank me, Jamie. It’s what friends do.” You respond, the boy letting out a scoff. 

“Most friends wouldn’t fly across the country to watch a hockey game.” He sulks, the words from your Uber driver earlier ringing in your ears. 

“I guess I’m not like most friends.” You coo, a smile lighting up on Jamie’s face. 

“I guess not.” He says softly before asking, “So, are we like offical now or something?” The words making your snort as you glance down at him. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You… Me… Us. You said you were my girlfriend.” He explains, his words gentle as he shifts his head against your shoulder, your eyes meeting. “I really want you to be my girlfriend.” He sense the way you hesitate, quickly moving to take back his statement. 

“Isn’t it obvious Jamie?” You ask, “would just a friend really fly six hours just to watch a hockey game?” 

[vicvinegarandhughhoney]

"talk to me": BTHB prompt- Heatstroke, Whumperless Whump Event Day 6- Heatstroke

@whumperless-whump-event

A tiny drabble where Dennis gets heatstroke.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 9: Wedding Bells or Gong of Destruction?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter nine of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (a few times), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, pining, fluff, some angst.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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

Philadelphia 1941

You paced at the foot of your bed, wringing your hands together, heartbeat frantic against your ribcage as your world seemed to spin to a stop. You didn't know whether you wanted to laugh or cry, scream or sob, throw up or have a stroke. Your entire body was electrified with your nerves, popping and crackling loud in your ears as the impulses jumped from synapse to synapse with ease.

And it was Howard's fault.

After three years of courting, of you trying to make up excuses to lengthen the distance between you two, of trying to find a way out, of trying to find a way to tell Ben that you loved him, it had finally happened, Howard had proposed. It wasn't out of the blue, you had been courting long enough and you were well past the age of usual engagement, something your mother continued to point out, but that didn't make any of this any easier.

Your eyes drop to the offensive chunk of jewelry on your left hand. Not only was it the ugliest ring you’d ever seen, but it was from the wrong man. You knew that deep down in your bones, knew it the second Howard came to Sunday night dinner and dropped to one knee in front of you. Hell, you knew it the second you met Howard for the first time. He was nothing compared to Ben, no one was.

You had looked Howard in the eye stunned, unable to speak, then raised your eyes to your father and mother hoping to find your voice and a plausible excuse, but before you could give him the honest answer you knew in your heart to be true, your mother had shouted "Of course she will!"

Because she's controlled everything else about my life, of course she'd do this as well.

Your tried again not to think about how ugly the ring and how it was utterly wrong for you in every way. When Howard dropped to one knee and opened the velvet box, all you could think of was Ben. You wondered what ring Ben would have chosen for you and wondered if the ring from him would have been right.  He knew you better than anyone else.

Which begged the question: shouldn't your fiancé?

You tried not to compare your best friend to Howard, because you knew who would win. Every time you began to compare them, Ben had more pros than Howard did. But you couldn't keep waiting for Ben, didn't want to. Howard was promising you a future, a family, marriage-

A loveless one. The thought is immediate and makes your heart seize in your chest.

You knew that a marriage with Ben would be different, filled with passion, romance, love-

But he doesn't love you. So basically if Ben married you it would be the same for him as you marrying Howard. A one-sided love.

Despite dating Howard, you still allowed Ben in your life. Ben stayed over whenever he wished, walked with you to the park, stole you away for drinks in the bar down the street where Howard wouldn't be caught dead in, and took you to the occasional baseball game. Howard didn't drink and he didn't like being outside. Those moments with Ben made you feel more alive than you'd ever felt and then you'd meet Howard later and try to summon the enthusiasm to sit with him at dinner, all the while you were still buzzing with happiness from seeing Ben.

It made you feel like a traitor, feeling that good and thinking about another person while Howard tried to be everything you wanted.

Whenever Howard would kiss you goodnight, it made you feel like you were kissing a statue, cold, unfeeling, and despite his attempts to slide his tongue in your mouth it was passionless. And it made you think about what Ben said about Howard's name and what he would be like in bed, as improper as it was. You think back to all the moments you and Ben had been pressed against one another when you woke up in the morning, how perfectly you fit against him. Whenever Howard tried to hug you or hold you close it was all wrong. He wasn't tall enough or broad enough, not to mention sometimes you thought if he'd even be able to pick you up. Howard was more lanky than muscular, certainly not as strong as Ben, who picked you up one time on a dare from Adam when you were all really drunk.

Howard didn’t make you feel warm when he touched you accidently, he didn’t make you feel brave whenever your mother was around, and he certainly didn’t make you feel as happy as you did when you were with Ben. Not to mention he never let you draw him, said that there were more important things that he could be doing rather than siting there posing for you.

Howard wasn’t spontaneous. He’d show up exactly on time, call when he said he would, time every single minute of your dates and he certainly never tried to surprise you the way Ben did. The only time Howard ever seemed excited about anything was when he was talking about the fiscal progress of the United States in comparison to Europe, which he weaseled into every conversation you had together.

Even when he asked you to marry him it sounded more like a business proposal than a happy moment. You always thought that when you got engaged the other person would make at least some confession of love. He hadn’t done that. Howard successfully sucked the life out of a moment you thought you would remember forever. You couldn’t even remember what he said before he got on one knee, just the awkward silence and the feeling of dread that clamped tight around your heart when he asked you the question that ruined your life.

Legally am I bound to this, because technically my mother said yes for me?

You wondered if Howard proposed because the U.S was finally joining in the war or if he genuinely loved you. He brought by flowers often, roses even though you liked lavender more, brought by caramels even though you liked chocolates, and sent you books on the financial history of the United States that were helpful when you couldn't sleep at night, they sent you right off, not to mention you'd started sketching street scenes in the pages making them much more interesting, but you weren't going to show Howard that. His head would probably explode.

You sigh again, pacing faster at the end of your bed.

Howard wanted a quick wedding within the week before he shipped out to military training on Friday, and maybe you should be scared about your fiancé going to war, but the only person you were worried about was Ben. He'd probably also join the military to prove something to his father and take your heart with him when he left. You knew that Ben was the only one you wanted to hold your heart in his hands.

You look back down at the ring on your finger, filled with dread and thoughts about a passionless future.

How am I going to tell Ben?

The tap on your window is familiar, but frightens you, because you didn't know how to tell him or how he'd react. Each time you brought up Howard around him, Ben would make a sarcastic comment and change the subject. You think about the night you danced together, when Ben said that you couldn't be Howard's and also his friend.

Does that mean he'll never want to be apart of my life when we get married?

The thought makes your heart break. You couldn't imagine a life without Ben and you didn't want to, but you could image a life without Howard.

Ben is crouched in the window, a wide smile on his face,  but this time he doesn't wait for you to let him in, he rolls up the window himself and he crosses the room to hug you.

The hug surprises you. You were usually the one that initiated them, but the hug breaks something in your chest and you hug him back tighter than you ever had to stop the tears from falling, pressing your face into his rumpled suit.

"Hey Sweetheart." Ben pulls back, but frowns when he looks at your face. "What's wrong?" Ben's hand gently cups your cheek, trailing warmth where his fingertips touch. You're surprised at the boldness of his touch, but you ascribe it to the alcohol, given the sharp tang of whiskey that floats through the air between you.

"Nothing." You clear your throat, stepping back so his hand falls and covering your ring finger on your left hand with your right nonchalantly. "How are you?"

Ben frowns for a minute at your reaction, but then shakes it off. "I've got great news." He smiles so wide that it makes the urge to cry rise in the back of your throat again.

You knew that as soon as you married Howard he would forbid you from seeing Ben. He already had after the night at the dance hall, but you didn't pay attention to him. Unfortunately, you knew that once you were married you wouldn’t be able to defy his wishes. You respected what marriage represented far too much to cross that line.

"Um me too." You smile tightly, your heartbeat so loud you wonder if Ben can hear it.

"Oh. Well-" Ben begins to say, wanting to let you talk.

"No. Please, you go first."

He won't tell me what news he has if I say my piece about Howard.

"Well, I've been thinking about what you said to me the other day about trying to figure out what I want-"

You remembered the conversation clearly. It was another day at Fairmount Park and it was an attempt to get Ben to start thinking about his future, though when you had told him to figure out what he wanted you hoped that it meant he would consider you, consider turning your friendship into something more. Your heart surges, hoping that this is it, this is Ben finally saying that loves you, that he wants to be with you.

"And I'm finally going to make something of myself." Ben's green eyes shine brightly with his excitement.

"Huh?" Your heart sinks.

"I talked to my dad." You don't miss the way Ben's jaw tightens when he says it. "And I've decided to enlist-"

"Enlist! Ben-" It takes all you have to beg him not to go, not to leave you here. Because you knew that you couldn't live without him and the thought that he would die overseas in a war destroyed you.

"Wait, listen." Ben smiles wider, confusing you. "My dad has friends in the war department, friends that are looking for volunteers for a military project."

"A military project?"

"It's a serum or an injection that's supposed to make us stronger, better-"

"What do you mean?" You ask mildly confused. You hadn't heard of the government announcing any kind of experiments or projects in the newspapers. Surely Howard would have told you about it, he was always boring you with things like that.

"I'm a not a scientist" Ben shakes his head. "But all I know is that they're looking for volunteers and they want men and women."

Surprise flits through your mind. It was odd that they were also asking for women. Although you knew that the military was beginning to accept women in their ranks, it was still surprising that they wanted female volunteers for a government project. Especially if they were experimenting on them.

Like lab rats?

"What are you saying?" You're still confused as to what he's trying to tell you, unusual given the fact that you were usually very good at reading him.

"I want you come with me." Ben can hardly contain his excitement, his smile is so wide it nearly splits his face.

It was the last thing you expected him to ask. "What?" You blink.

"I don't want to do this without you." He says in a tone that makes your heartbeat stop. "And I want you to come with me." He repeats.

Your immediate reaction is to scream yes, let him take you away from all of this, but then you remember Howard, and your mother and feel the weight begin to settle on your shoulders again.

"Ben I can't." It breaks your heart to say it to him, to watch how his face falls.

“Why not?”

"Howard is-"

"Come on, you really think things are going to work out with that son of a bitch?" Ben shouts so loud you're afraid that he'll wake up your parents.

"He loves me-" You begin to say, the urge to cry coming back strong, burning against your eyes. Because now it was that you were choosing Howard over him, even though you didn't want to, it was what your mother wanted. The future she laid out for you.

"You don't know that." Ben snaps, rolling his eyes.

"Ben, he-" You struggle to find your words, taking in a deep breath to strengthen your voice. "He- he proposed. I mean it's been three years, we're both of age-"

Ben's eyes drop to your left hand and this time you uncover your hand so he can see the engagement ring. His shoulders tense and the muscle in his jaw clenches and unclenches.

"When did he ask you?" Ben says in almost a growl.

"Tonight. He came to dinner, my mother is so excited-" You successfully keep the tremor from your voice, but it quickly feels like you're running out of air.

"But you're not." Ben mutters

"Of course I am-" Your voice cracks with emotion.

"No you're not." Ben raises his gaze to look at you.  "I know you." The look in his eyes is unfamiliar, almost afraid.

But Ben isn't scared of anything. You try to remember a moment that he acted afraid, the only time is the memory of when you first met, when his father was looking for him and you lied to help him hide. Ben was fearless, it was something that you admired about him. You could always rely on him to have your back, be strong when you knew that you couldn’t be. To see him afraid was different.

"Ben-" You try again.

"Please." His jaw clenches together. "Don't marry him. Come with me."

"What?" You blink a few times to comprehend what he's asking.

Is he saying that he wants me to marry him? To run away with him?

"You're worth a hundred of him and I don't want to do this without you."

"Ben you're asking me to give up my future, my life-" You say trying to strengthen your resolve.

As unwelcome as Howard's proposal was, it was a future of sorts, what Ben was asking you was to dive into the unknown and you weren't sure if you were strong enough to do that. To leave everything you knew behind you and go with him. But apart of you was thrilled. Maybe it meant that Ben cared for you, needed you and this was the only way that he knew how to tell you. The three little words jump to the tip of your tongue again, the words you wanted to say when you danced together under the twinkling lights all those nights ago.

"You mean the future your mother wants for you." Ben sighs.

"Ben-"

"You’ve been trying to please her your whole life. Please don’t do this for her. Don’t marry him for her." Ben says, trying to catch your gaze, but you look down at his chest for a minute.

"But-"

"You are worth more y/n. And even if she can’t see your worth I can."

"Ben-"  You look back up at him, trying to find the courage to tell him that you love him.

He stares back at you, green eyes wide and honest before he takes your hands. They're warm and rough, familiar in the best way. "Tell me that you want him. You’ve never lied to me before and I don’t think you’ll start now."

Your words die on your tongue, because you know that you can't lie to him, you never could.

"Is that really what you want? To spend the rest of your life with him? If it is I'll leave, but I want to hear you say it." His eyes are filled with promises that make your voice catch in your throat, like two blazing green fires that see through you. Ben might have acted aloof with other people, but he always paid attention to you and knew what you were thinking.  No one knew you as well as he did, well except for the most obvious thing.

No it's not what I want. All I want is to be with you. The thought is immediate.

"But what about my mother-" You say, squeezing his hands.

"If you come with me, you'll never have to worry about her ever again." He says. By now tears are trickling down your cheeks, frustration and confusion building in your chest. Ben was promising you a future with him, but you couldn't understand if he was doing it because he wanted to be more or if he wanted you with him because you were his friend.

He drops your hands and instead brushes away your tears from your eyes. "I know you don't want to marry him."

"I don't." You whisper. "But I don’t know if I'm strong enough for this-"

“Do you trust me?”

Your hands come up to the front of his chest before you can stop yourself, feeling the warmth that surges underneath your palms. “Of course I do.”

His eyes are inviting, pleading, filled with emotion. "I swear that I will be strong enough for the both of us." His hands cup your cheeks. "I swear that I will look out for you like I always have.  I swear that I will never leave you. And I don't want to leave you behind. Please y/n. Come with me." The earnest look in Ben's eyes makes you cry harder, but you know that all you want is to go with him.

You don't want him to go and leave you here, where no one understands and the future that you see is cold, emotionless, and the path dark. You see the coming years with Howard, living together, having children, lunching with other women you hardly know and talking about nothing that mattered.

When you were with Ben everything you talked about seemed important, every moment with him was fused with wonder and expectation, you were never disappointed and were always excited about what you would do together even if it was something as mundane as sitting on a bench with Ben talking while you painted. You could imagine spending the rest of your life with him.

But could he imagine the same thing with you?

The future you see with Ben is warm, inviting, filled with promises you know that he’ll keep because he’s never broken a promise to you no matter what.

But you wonder if it's the promise that you want.

You stand there in the silence of his plea, hearing the ticking of the clock on your bedside table, the sound of cars outside your window, and the sounds of the night vibrate through you bones.

He wasn’t saying that he loved you. He wasn’t confessing his love. He wasn’t making a promise to marry you.

But maybe this was his way. Ben had never been the best at expressing what he was feeling, but the look in his eyes, the way his fingers hold your face to his-

It spoke volumes.

“Yes.” You whisper. “I’ll come with you.”

Ben’s smile breaks your heart as he pulls you tightly against him, laying his head on top of yours as he hugs you and sets every nerve ending on fire. Because the hug is different. It’s filled with the unspoken words between you, the memories you’ve shared, and the great unknown that stretches beyond both of you.

And you cling tight to him, the only part of your future that’s certain.

Or so you thought.

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

a/n: I know, I know there's a lot of unresolved tension.😂 I promise it will all make sense and that it is going somewhere. But I will say the next few chapters are kinda... rough and are painful to write, but I can't wait for y'all to read them.

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts,@onlyangel-444

[doubleca5t]

Watched the super bowl for the first time because I am unfortunately a taylor swift lesbian (not a gaylor) and jesus christ I'm not sure anything happened for the first 3 or so hours but I got so stressed out when I thought the Chiefs were gonna lose. I think I get sports now. Also American Football is a bad game.

God you Swifties are going to be so spoiled if Taylor stays with Travis long term. You started following football five months ago and your team won the super bowl on your first goddamn season. You've all slipped and fallen into bandwagoning for a dynasty and it's going to make you all the most insufferable fanbase in football, and keep in mind this includes both Boston and Philadelphia sports fans so that is a VERY high bar to clear.

You have yet to learn that the core experience of being a football fan is the agonizing pain of watching your team lose a crucial game by snatching defeat from the jaws of victory right before your eyes. I don't see Mahomes' bullshit slowing down any time soon so after Taylor and Travis break up I think she should have to date Josh Allen for a few years just to even things out a bit. There must be some degree of justice in this cruel, unforgiving world.

[strawberryblondebutch]

So I read Britta Curl's apology.

Emphasis on read, because no way in hell am I listening to that whole thing with my shitty auditory processing. So please acknowledge that this means I'm potentially missing out on tonal cues and body language.

I don't think she's changed. A good apology recognizes what you've done wrong and how you'll improve in the future. She seems to think that her posts are the problem, not the beliefs that motivated said posts. Her improvement plan is to "grow in humility, and grow in love." I'm not sure where most marginalized groups would rank that in their restorative justice plans.

Even if the apology's content is lackluster, the fact it exists is good. That Curl felt she needed to say something, for her own and the league's reputation, means she knows that eyes are on her. There are degrees of harm in public figures. Among baseball players, you can trace a line down from Curt Schilling (actual Breitbart personality) to Jason Adam (refused to wear a pride cap in a game) to Brad Hand (likes Trump tweets on Twitter in silence). I have no respect for the beliefs Hand's social media activity suggests that he has, but he's not saying on the record that being gay is a bad lifestyle choice, nor is he tweeting about how awesome that Capitol riot was. My personal respect may be nonexistent, but Hand's actions are less directly harmful.

I would love if Britta Curl changed her beliefs. I don't engage in moral Puritanism. I believe that people can change, and I want them to. If she came out with an apology tomorrow where she said, "I understand that my words and actions have hurt members of the trans and Black communities, and here are the steps I am taking to understand why this is so harmful so that I can improve, I would support her. But that's not what happened.

Whether we like it or not, this shit does matter. Arguably, it matters even more in women's sports. I don't like it. I would love if the WNBA, PWHL, or any other league were one where you could shut up and play, and you weren't expected to be a role model for young girls everywhere (which, that's a rant all of its own). But at the end of the day, you can't cater who you are to a hypothetical ideal. You have to cater it to the world that you're in. And yeah, that sucks.

The increased scrutiny on female athletes will always affect marginalized groups more. I'm not going to speak too much on racism in the WNBA, because I don't consider myself an expert on it (I'm only a casual basketball fan, no matter the gender), but I've seen the scrutiny leveled on Angel Reese compared to Caitlin Clark. I also remember Hilary Knight being fucking terrified to come out as queer because of all the outside pressure on her. Having to hide what you believe is different than hiding what you are.

She's not going to get top-six minutes this coming season, and the discourse is going to be insufferable. Yeah, Curt Schilling's a terrible human being, and although his beliefs got worse after retirement, he was an outspoken conservative when he won the 2004 World Series. Compare that to Trevor Bauer, whose shooters claim that he's being blacklisted by the Woke Mob, when he's really just... not a good pitcher, and he's also managed to piss off every manager he's ever had. Britta Curl will not be one of the six best players on Minnesota unless something goes terribly wrong - she's not a better center than Heise or Pannek, and she's not a good enough sniper to move to the wing. The worst people you know will claim she's being punished for her beliefs, because they do not understand how sports work. Block and move on.

It is still very funny that she blocked me on Twitter. Block and move on goes both ways, but I didn't tag her in the post or anything, which means she name searches.

Once again, if you read this far, please consider giving to Prevention Point or Savage Sisters. Harm reduction is important. Those two organizations are why I'm still alive, and the city of Philadelphia wants addicts to die.