#but then a kid comes in that looks like he could be his little brother or son and suddenly all bets are off | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emiqip · 2 days ago

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Pt.2 Apocalyptic Ponyo AU ft. Shockwave and his menaces @keferon

If there was something you learned while living in the ugly, rotten and forgotten parts of the city your whole life, it was that trust was to be given away scarcely and returned fiercely.

Damus learned this lesson fast. Abandoned beside a squalid garbage bin after his guardian couldn't afford to take care of him anymore- not that they tried in the first place anyway. Life got only more complicated from there: food and shelter were always scarce and had to be fought for, especially if you were a scrawny kid like him and had to tussle and shove middle-aged junkies daily, to be able to scavenge inside the most recent load of trash from the local shitty restaurant in hopes for some lukewarm scraps.

And then years passed and he became less and less alone. Other kids joined him and life became just a tad bit more bearable. He slowly warmed up to them, feeling for maybe the first time the warmth of what could resemble a family, even if his was little and a bit broken. They looked out for each other: yes the older kids obviously held the most authority and weight out of all of them, but it wasn't unusual to see the twins putting on their best intimidating appearances and stand tall in front of any adult after they dared pick on one of their older siblings- he had seen the scratches and bite marks covering the poor soul who tried to steal Windcharger's lunch...

It had always been left unsaid, but it was clear they loved and cared deeply for each other- that sort of care that looked rough and jagged from an outsider perspective, but it was their kind of love and nobody- adult or whatever could ever have a say in this.

But it was when you cared so intensely that even at the mere prospect of losing something so dear, your body and soul started betraying you.

He felt it when the apocalypse hit and now... as he watched Blue- young, naive and kind Blue, caged behind a massive wall of sharp teeth and even sharper claws, smiling happily, without a care in the world.

The beast followed the gaze of its small prisoner and finally locked eyes with the new arrivals. Sharp cat-like blue eyes curiously took in the presence of the remaining kids, with its mouth slightly open in surprise, the monster tilted its head and from its throat came forward a small melody of clicks and trills.

Damus felt his heart sink. God, what did he do in a previous life to deserve this? When he caught himself moving forward on shaky legs, it was already too late. His brain was in overdrive. He had to get the kid out of this situation now.

"...Blue, buddy, I want you to listen to me very carefully." His throat felt dry and the hands that were clutching his weapon were clammy with sweat.

"Uh? O-okay." The younger kid briefly looked at his captor before returning his focus on his brother.

"...walk slowly towards me and hide behind us."

"What?! Dee I'm not in danger yeah I know Sir. Pancake can be a bit intimidating at first even I was scared but he patched up my knee with some sea moss I don't know how he knew how to do that but-"

"Buddy please- just- sigh come here Blue!" He hated interrupting his littlest brother during one of his spiels, but now was not the right time. Stress and frustration began eating up at him from inside: why couldn't he see how dangerous this thing really was?!

"No."

Wait.

"WHAT?"

"I said. No."

Bluestreak huffed, crossing his arms in a pure show of defiance. "I'm perfectly safe where I am, you're being a jerk." To everyone's absolute horror the child lifted his right hand and patted one of the beast clawed fingers to prove his point- in return he got a quiet happy trill.

"If he really wanted to hurt me he would've done so already and I'm not letting you shoot him."

He hated to admit he kinda had a point. When the twins left the scene they left the two alone, leaving the youngest completely unprotected against a beast several times bigger than himself. If that thing really wanted to see them all dead, he wouldn't even be here to ponder the possibility.

Oh for fuck sake, he knew where this was going. They were NOT going to adopt a random fish person.

Were they?

\\\

Well wasn't this quite the situation he found himself in?

Honestly, he had been only searching for a place to finally experience some peace and quiet, away from the grubby hands of the Senate and, consequently, his very dear colleagues. If he had to speak with esteemed senator Tyrest again and entertain him as he blabbed away about 'Rectitude' and 'Order', while an impressive persistent piece of algae clinged on his front teeth- he was going to lose it and offer himself as lunch to the first frenzied monster he found.

As he reached the surface he began to notice the utter and total destruction around him. Apparently a massive cataclysm had hit a few days prior, leaving the city in utter squalor- he wondered how many lost their lives in the wreckage. Wondering the landscape now engulfed by water. He passed what were once streets, houses and parks- ordinary places where people like his spent their time just... living.

He wasn't unfamiliar with humans, of course: little hardy creatures, with a knack for destroying everything they came across, even themselves. But he would be lying if he didn't admit he came to favor them- oh, yes! Their utter lack of self preservation had wholly endeared them to him. How depressing things turned out to be.

He let his train of thoughts race aimlessly as he finally let himself breach the water and slowly heave himself on a random slab of abandoned concrete, perfectly warmed up by the midday sun and he prepared himself to doze off to the calming lull of the waves around him...

A voice- oh no, a couple whispering voices reached his audial fins. They sounded young, very young, but he could not discern the meaning of their words. Too entranced by the new language he didn't notice that one of the speakers was getting quite close to his face, until he felt a sharp poke on his cheek that abruptly made him open his eyes and stand on alert.

What came after happened too quickly for his still foggy brain to follow entirely: three small humans, most likely guppies, scrambled away from him. The two he presumed were the oldest sprinted as far as possible, while the runt of the bunch got his tiny final caught on a stray rock and fell miserably on the hard ground.

The other screeched once more as they hurried away to who-knows-where, leaving him and their tiny companion alone. Surely not the best wake-up call he ever had but it can only go better from here, can it?

A tiny whimper woke him up from his stupor as he once again focused on the small pile of human still plastered on the floor before him. Poor dear must have hurt himself, well that won't do. Slowly, gently he caressed the back of the little darling as he kept softly hiccuping- it was a shame humans skin wasn't as tough as his, it would prevent such inconveniences to happen, not that he blamed the little thing for his own poor biology, of course.

"Oh sweetheart, it's going to be okay I promise. You're a very tough small fry, I've got you." He let himself coo softly like he heard parents do to their own off-spring. Still minding his own size and sharp points, he dared to nudge the guppy over and inspect the damage himself- turns out the little one had only grazed his right limb, nothing a small dab of sea moss cannot fix.

As he tended to the guppy's injury, he witnessed the little thing's mood change completely: from an inconsolable heap on the floor to a lively chatterbox- even if the meaning still escaped from him, the constant stream of sound made for a pleasant background as he continued his ministrations. And anyway, the guppy was happy just talking his audials away, who was he to stop his fun?

Once he deemed his work acceptable enough, he gently prodded the little one to stand beside him, close enough to cover him with one of his fins as a make-shift blanket, and keep him cozy and warm against the evening ocean breeze. Sleep crept closer to him once more, as he listened to his new small ward rant about this and that, while the last rays of the sun warmed his back. Content and at ease he felt his body betray him as he recognized a familiar pleased rumble start in his throat.

He let himself relax further, knowing this far out nothing would dare attack him and his little guppy. However, he was pleasantly surprised when from the rubble emerged three more small humans.

Well, he counted six unattended little ones so far- this was getting quite awkward really, who was leaving all these children lying around? They were clearly sporting some sort of weapons, he guessed- although he felt that was reasonably natural, considering humans didn't have any claws or sharp fangs to defend themselves with.

He watched as the two parties shared a fairly animated conversation. These were most likely his guppy's little friends or... siblings? No matter really since they were all way too young to be wandering around alone in a place like this.

It was final then! He ought to protect and care for these little ones, until they wouldn't need him anymore.

#transformers #apocalyptic ponyo #im back with more fish-dad #you have no idea how much fun im having writing this #im losing my sense of humanity #shockwave is a rich fish #his kids can smell his richness he aint fooling no one #hope you enjoyed!!#the humble pancake shark

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shanastoryteller · 12 minutes ago

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Tracking down a prince of hell is surprisingly easy. The other demons can’t avoid them if they don’t know where they are, after all.

Castiel gives up arguing against it, but instead he’s taken to brooding in the corner, arms crossed, and glaring at him. As his main source of human bodily expression, Sam wishes he wasn’t so good at it. He doesn’t look like that, does he? Jesus.

Sam knocks on Ramiel’s door. There’s no reason to be impolite.

“Huh,” Ramiel answers, wearing the face of a weathered old fisherman. Which, from all accounts, is exactly how he’s been spending his infinite life. Sam learned how to fish like he learned all of his father’s lessons, grudgingly, but compared to how he’s living now, he has to admit it sounds peaceful. “You’re the kid that killed my brother.”

“What,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “were you close?”

Castiel makes some sort of choking sound that Sam knows he didn’t learn from him. Maybe he should be monitoring his television usage.

Ramiel cracks a grin. “You here to kill me, boy?”

“Do you want to be killed?” he asks.

“Not especially,” he says. “But if you killed Azazel, then you can kill me. We going to fight about it?”

“You’re not hurting anyone,” Sam says. He’d checked. “I don’t think you’re especially loyal to Lucifer.” If he was, he would have made an appearance during the apocalypse, would have been helping Azazel find Lucifer’s vessel, not hiding out in the middle of nowhere fishing and drinking. “If he comes back, that’ll be a problem for you, I think. So helping me is in your best interest.”

“Well, if it’s in my best interest.” He steps back, nudging the door open a little wider. “Come on in.”

Ramiel is surprisingly open giving Sam his blood. He looks fascinated and doesn’t question what Sam wants it for, apparently already well aware that Sam and Castiel are in the process of destroying the remaining seals.

“He wants to destroy Lilith,” Castiel says, the first thing he’s said since Ramiel opened the door. Sam wishes he was close enough to hit, which is probably one of the reasons Castiel is staying propped against the wall rather than sitting down with them. His vessel doesn’t feel tiredness, so Sam’s impressed he’s leaning at all.

“You don’t think he can?” Ramiel asks. “Sure, not now, but at all?”

“You think I can?” Sam interrupts, hope causing his stomach to flip over. This whole thing is his idea, he remembers killing Lilith before, but Castiel has been so sure it wouldn’t work.

Ramiel looks him over, something in his eyes that he can’t quite place. “You remind me of him.”

Sam tenses.

“You must see it more clearly than I do,” Ramiel says to Castiel. “You knew him before the fall. I only met him after, obviously.”

“Lucifer and I were not well acquainted,” Castiel says stiffly.

“I’m nothing like him,” Sam snaps. He can’t be. He won’t be. Even in the memories from the future, when he’s drinking demon blood, he’s not the damn devil.

“That’s a shame,” Ramiel says. Sam stares. “He was the strongest angel in heaven, a general among kings, God’s most beloved son.”

Sam swallows. “Propaganda.”

Ramiel raises an eyebrow and looks over at the angel in the corner.

Castiel holds out for several long moments before saying, “No. Lucifer was that. Once.”

“God asked of Abraham to do to Isaac what he could not do to Lucifer,” Ramiel says. “He had no deity of his own to appease and so Lucifer was cast out rather than eliminated. He was brilliant, in the beginning, of course we followed him. He shone so brightly, so righteous in his certainty, so compelling in his grief.” His hand falls heavily on Sam’s shoulder. “I see him in you so clearly. It’s not a damnation. Until the moment he fell, Lucifer was the brightest star in the sky.”

He's silent for probably too long, trying to find some way to respond to that. Finally he says, “I won’t fall then.”

He can’t.

He won’t.

He’s going to ensure Lucifer stays in the cage forever and whatever it costs him will be worth it. But he won’t fall.

Sam is startled out of a dead sleep by his name.

SAM! Echoes through his head and he’s rolling out of bed, rolling upright and still half asleep when he shifts from one place to the other. The urgency in the call has him standing there still half asleep, barefoot in sweatpants and a grey t shirt just tight enough in the shoulders that he thinks it’s his brother’s.

He runs a hair through his hair, smoothing it back from standing every which way, and blinks at the crowd of people in front of him. “Uh. Hi?”

He’s in the Roadhouse in the middle of standoff, a couple dozen people blocking off the door while pretty much everyone else in the bar has their guns drawn and pointed. He notices his father among them and refuses to react, not daring to look at his dad’s face for long enough to read anything there besides shock.

Ellen has her rifle aimed, but Jo’s slumped against the bar, her arm around – “Dean!”

He’s out of it, eyes squeezed shut and curled half over. It’s only Jo that’s keeping him partially upright. He sees the blood dripping on the ground and is already moving towards them, grabbing Dean’s shoulders and pushing him upright enough to see the blood soaked across his torso, his stomach split open just like Jessica’s had been, just like their mother.

Sam sees red.

“Sam,” Jo says in relief.

“Sammy,” says someone else, and this time when he looks over, those people in front of the door all have black eyes. “Samuel. You killed Azazel.”

“Loyalists?” he snarks, shifting to stand in front of Dean and Jo. He’s going to fix his brother, but he has to take care of this first. Dean’s not dead, and he’s stronger than he was when he brought Jo back, but he doesn’t know what kind of shape healing him is going to leave him in. Better not to risk it.

“Yes,” says the man, eyes still black. “You have earned the throne, Samuel, but it remains not empty. You’re meant to lead us, Samuel, but you’ve been missing. We’ve been forced to go to extreme measure to get your attention.”

“I’m not mean to do shit,” he snarls. He’s so tired of this crap. His future self had that part right – taking the destiny Lucifer had wanted for him and making him choke on it, using that infinite power to send his memories to his younger self so Lucifer wouldn’t ever get a chance to taste fresh air this time around – good. He didn’t like it when it was his dad trying to dictate how he lived his life, and he has even less tolerance for it from Lucifer. These ass clowns? It should be a joke, would be, even, if he didn’t have his brother’s blood on him.

He raises a hand and all the demons choke on air, eyes going wide and feet glued in place. He doesn’t pay any attention to the hunters at his back, hoping that they won’t be stupid enough to try and kill him while he’s saving their asses. Even if they succeed, Castiel will bring him back.

He walks forward, eyes narrowed, wondering if they’re flashing gold and not caring. “Well, good job, hurting my brother does get my attention.” He leans in close to the man who had spoken, voice whisper soft and yet carrying easily in the near silent bar. “You don’t want my attention.”

Pulling the demons from their hosts is easy. Smothering them into nothing, turning black smoke into black dust as he kills them permanently isn’t much harder than that. The people start coughing and groaning, others limp and likely in need of a hospital if they’re still alive, but Sam ignores them to focus on one woman who’s still trembling and terrified, the one demon he’d left behind.

He moves her hair away from her face, hoping the woman inside of her isn’t aware of what’s happened to her. The demon looks at him in terror. “You tell everyone. You tell them what happens when they spill my brother’s blood.”

“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, I will, please. Please. I’ll tell everyone. I will.”

Her fear isn’t satisfying. He has to remind himself that it’s not this girl looking at him like this, but the demon inside of her. It doesn’t help much. He’d never wanted to be anyone’s nightmare. “Go.” Her head snaps back and he adds, “Gently.”

She hesitates then her head drops forward, black smoke oozing out her mouth, nothing quick or violent about it as the demon does it’s best to leave without doing any damage. As soon as it’s out, it disappears, running form him as quickly as it can.

The woman sways in front of him and he grabs her elbow to steady her. She blinks at him, dazed. “What happened?”

“You’re okay,” he says, patting her shoulder and letting go. She stays on her feet, although she still looks confused, but Sam turns away from them.

The hunters are still all silent, all still watching him. Most haven’t lowered their weapons, although some have. Ellen’s gun is still raised, but it’s not towards him, which is both comforting and not. He wonders who she thinks is most likely to try and kill him.

Dean’s passed out, out cold on the ground with Jo holding him up and pressing a hand towel from the bar against his stomach. “Sam,” she says again, eyes huge, but she doesn’t look afraid of him. That’s good.

“Thanks for calling me, Jo,” he says. “I’ve got him.”

He pulls Dean back against him, his brother’s chest rising and falling too quickly. He’s gone cold with blood loss and this wound might have even been the thing that killed him if Sam wasn’t here.

That’s never going to happen. Dean isn’t going to die. Dean isn’t going to go to hell. Sam is doing all this for his brother and just because he won’t be able to keep him doesn’t mean he’s willing to lose him.

He hooks his chin over Dean’s shoulder and presses is hands against the wound on his stomach, feeling fresh hot blood spill over his fingers. He tilts his head just enough to graze his lips against Dean’s cheek, holding him steady as his body seizes under him.

Castiel heals with a touch, all if it happening too quickly for it to hurt. Sam’s not that good at it yet.

“Sorry,” he whispers, feeling Dean’s skin knit back together and his body go warm with new blood. Dean groans and coughs, body rebelling against being healed but not having much choice.

“John,” Ellen barks. “Don’t do anything stupid now.”

Sam looks over his shoulder to see that his father has stepped forward, the Colt directed at him. Dean got hurt by demons and Dad had the Colt and didn’t use it. Only two bullets left and more than two demons, sure, he gets it. But still.

“Don’t waste a bullet, Dad,” he says. He's still refusing to look at his father's face. He doesn't need to know.

Any gun will do. Although he wonders if being killed by the Colt would prevent Castiel from bringing him back. He’s not much interested in testing it.

He tips Dean back towards Jo, who braces him with an arm around his waist. “Take care of him for me.”

“I’m trying,” she says, honesty and dry and exasperated, which is how he knows she means it. He smiles, might have even laughed if things were different. He likes Jo. He’d thought he did, from his memories, but he hadn’t felt it. He feels it now.

“Sammy,” Dean says, eyes glassy and movements still weak as he reaches out to him. “Sam.”

He grabs Dean’s reaching hand, gives it a quick squeeze, and is gone as soon as he hears the sound of a gun being cocked.

Apocalypse Never

They help Dad into the cabin, more coherent than he was when they first broke him out, and Sam heads back to the car for their bags, for the Colt, and tries not to think about how everything has gone so quickly to shit. Mom and Jessica’s killer got away, again, but they’re all alive. That’s not nothing, that’s –

The pain hits him so completely and suddenly that he has no chance to brace himself for it. Usually it builds, first prickling pain then greater, but this is something else. It feels like nails are being shoved into his skull, images coming almost too fast for him to follow. He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until it stops, until he comes to with his head in his brother’s lap, Dean’s arms pinning him down and his face white and terrified above him. “Sammy? Sammy, you’re bleeding. What’s wrong?”

His throat is too raw and tight to speak even if he wanted to. He does want to, but he can’t, he can’t say a goddamn thing.

I saved the world for you, he thinks wildly, and I didn’t even get to keep you. How fucked up is that?

He doesn’t know if his future self couldn’t send it all back any further, or if he thought that this would give Sam less time to fuck things up.

For a couple terrifying minutes, Sam had taken control of Lucifer. For a couple exhilarating minutes, Sam had the power of an archangel.

That sending the knowledge of the future back four years in the past was the best thing he could think to do with it leaves Sam with a poor opinion of the man he became. Then again, he had saved the world, so. There’s that.

He doesn’t want to think of the him that had fallen into the pit with Lucifer and Michael. He hopes he can save him by making different choices, but maybe he can’t. Alternate universes, or parallel ones, or whatever. Maybe that Sam is damned for good and the best he could do was save a different version of himself, a different version of his brother.

There’s not much point in wondering about it. He’ll never know either way.

It’s memories with no emotions, thank fuck, because just the knowledge of it all is enough to drive him to his knees, to edge him to weeping and whimpering and slitting his wrists if he lets it.

He’s not going to. He has work to do. There will be time to fall apart after, when the world is safe. When Dean is safe.

Dean after Dad had died and given him that ultimatum had been bad enough. Dean after forty years in hell had been nearly unrecognizable.

He wipes the blood from his face, ushers Dean back inside, and tries not to think too hard about what he’s about to do.

Dean figures out it’s Azazel in Dad’s body and they’re pinned to the wall and Sam waits until Azazel is hovering over him, hand next to his head as he tilts his head back and breathes over Sam’s lips. It’s a torture and a powerplay, to let the want in his eyes come out in his father’s face, to make it John’s body that’s pressed so nauseatingly close to his own.

Sam isn’t the same person he was four years ago, ten minutes ago.

Breaking out of Azazel’s hold is easy. He’s using the equivalent of a single finger to keep them down, like pinning down a butterfly, and it's only enough until it isn’t.

He grabs Azazel’s face and pulls him close, hears the beginning of his laughter before Sam seals their mouths together. He’s making a deal here, selling his soul sure as anything, just not with Azazel.

Azazel leans into it, just like Sam knew he would, shoving his tongue in Sam’s mouth and getting off at his instinctive flinch of disgust, of the way Dean’s screaming bloody murder behind him. Azazel hasn’t hurt Dean yet. Sam’s going to make sure he never will.

He bites down hard. Blood fills his mouth and he sucks on his tongue, drinking as much as he can. It doesn't tase like iron, not like it should, instead it's sweet and thick like honey. He thought Azazel would pull back now, but he’s still laughing into Sam’s mouth, even bites the inside of his cheek to add to the blood from his tongue, and he just lets Sam drink his fill. Of course, he doesn’t know what Sam knows. If Sam had done this the first time, the only thing the blood would have done would be to get him high and useless.

It means he gets more than a mouthful, that it’s long minutes of keeping his eyes closed and swallowing and trying not to think too hard about how it’s Dad’s hands on him and Dad’s hard on at his thigh and Dad’s tongue he’s sucking on. He’s already got four years’ worth of nightmares in his head. No need to add more than necessary.

His skin is buzzing, feeling stretched out over him like his body is too big for it suddenly, almost like the aches of growing pains but more electric. Azazel pulls back and licks up the side of his face, leaving blood and spit behind, and breathes into his ear, “If you missed me feeding you, boy, all you had to do was ask.”

Yeah, that’s enough of that.

He shoves Azazel back without moving his hands, hard enough that he stumbles, and he has to move fast, before he gets a smart idea like snapping Dad’s neck or bursting his heart. He raises his hand and he’d settle for an exorcism, but power is lying heavy and thick in his veins. Destroying Lilith nearly killed him and Azazel is more powerful than Lilith and the blood he drank shouldn’t be nearly enough.

But fear sparks in Azazel’s yellow eyes and he starts choking, black smoke leaking from his ears and out his mouth. “How-”

Sam doesn’t let him finish. He remembers killing Samhain, killing Alastair, killing Lilith. He knows what to do.

Azazel dies screaming. Mom and Jessica are avenged. It’s not as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

Dad is on his hands and knees, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Sam knows from experience that being possessed isn’t pleasant.

“Sammy?”

He forces himself to look over, sees his brother approaching him with hands outstretched. The fear hasn’t gone anywhere even with Azazel dead, even with Dad alive, even though he doesn’t have any of the devastating injuries he sustained last time.

He doesn’t have the emotions to go along with the memory of the first time Dean saw him drinking demon blood, but he imagines it was something like this. “I’m sorry.”

“Sammy,” Dean says again, but Dad’s getting to his feet, Dad’s looking at the Colt, and Sam can’t die yet. He still has work to do.

It’s not a conscious thought, not something he actively tries to do, it’s just one minute he’s there in a cabin with his father and brother and the next he’s in the middle of a field, the night air crisp and clear and a million stars shining above him.

He couldn’t do that before.

There’s something wrong, he thinks, because he doesn’t remember what drinking demon blood felt like, but he remembers describing it, and this isn’t right. He should be drained after that, should feel almost normal again, but instead it’s like there are bees pinging around inside him, like there’s molten lava in his veins, like he’s dying.

He’s dying, he realizes suddenly, the power threatening to eat him alive. He looks down at his arms, like he’s expecting to see them crisping up beneath moonlight, but they look normal, like skin. Of course it’s not killing him, no matter what it feels like. He’s Lucifer’s perfect vessel. There’s no power his body can’t contain, none except God’s, maybe, and it looks like he’s long past making house calls.

It won’t kill him, but it hurts like hell, and he can’t think, he needs to burn it off somehow. He’s never had this problem before, not even when he drank all that blood for Lucifer.

He’s standing in Bobby’s living room and he doesn’t understand why until he sees the body on his kitchen table wrapped in a white sheet. He doesn’t know how Bobby got rid of the paramedics, if he’s maybe holding the body for her family, but Sam thinks he knows how to get rid of some of the itching along his skin.

Sam died a lot, in those weeks he and Dean were apart. Lucifer was true to his word. Sam came back every time.

He pulls down the sheet, sees the ways Meg’s face has settled into death in the past day, how decay has started to take hold and left her blue and cold and her skin slack. He leans down, presses a kiss to her cheek, and thinks that this is the least he owes her, for what she endured because of him, for trying to help him even at the bitter end.

She gasps to life beneath him, warmth flooding her skin and air stuttering into her lungs. “Sam?” she asks, fear and confusion and a pain that’s not physical.

Maybe she won’t want to live, considering everything she’s been through, but at least now the choice is hers and not a demon’s. There are footsteps and he turns to see Bobby standing in the doorway, gun pointed to the ground and mouth open in shock. Sam doesn’t have time to worry about it, instead he’s gone, the same burning still clawing its way out of his bones.

Caleb lies slumped in the chair Meg had tied him to, throat slit and eyes empty. Sam puts his hands on his shoulders, presses his lips to his bald head, and feels the moment his heart starts beating again. He sends the ropes falling with barely a thought and he’s gone the moment he hears his first confused groan.

Pastor Jim is laid out in his home, church workers Sam vaguely recognize huddled around him in prayer, his final send off. He’s just glad he got here before they burned him. They start screaming when they see him but he leans down, internally wincing at how Jim’s going to explain his way out of this one, and kisses his forehead, a reversal of the paternal tenderness Jim had shown him as a child.

His chest rises and his eyes open and his eyebrows push together. “Sam, what-“

He doesn’t stick around to hear the end of that question, figures it’s not anything he can answer anyway.

It takes him a long moment of staring out at the snow covered peaks and too close sky and the brilliant sun hitting his face even though it was just the middle of the night for him to place himself, even though it shouldn’t be enough, but he knows where he is even though he shouldn’t.

The air’s too thin and he’s going to give himself altitude sickness if he lingers and he should probably be freezing to death but his blood is still running too hot. Not burning, not like it was before he brought three people back from the dead, but still far from comfortable.

Still. He can’t say he ever thought he’d ever get to see the view from Mt. Everest.

“Castiel,” he says. “It’s Sam Winchester. We need to talk.”

Nothing. Typical.

“I know about God’s plan, about Lucifer and Michael, about my role as his vessel. I know about you, Cas. You’re going to want to hear me out.”

There’s the rustle of wings behind him and he turns to see Cas, younger than he looked before. Jimmy Novak younger than he’d been before. He wonders about that for a moment. He’d half expected Cas to show up as a sherpa rather than nip to America for a vessel, but Cas had kept the shape of Jimmy Novak even after his physical body perished, so maybe there’s a deeper preference there than just convenience.

His face is as cold as their surroundings. “You have strayed from God’s light.”

“Yeah, well, what good has he ever done me?” he asks tiredly. He used to believe. He believed yesterday. He prayed this morning. Even when he met Cas the first time, he believed. “I can’t explain. Can you just read my mind? We don’t have time.”

His eyebrows push together, but Cas has to be curious, otherwise he wouldn’t have said anything. He steps forward and presses two fingers against Sam’s forehead. He doesn’t feel any different, but when Cas lowers his hand, he’s lost his stoicism. Shock, despair, and anger chase themselves across his feature and Sam can’t blame him.

He’s not the only who lost his faith in the future.

“You said there were thousands of seals,” he says. “How many exactly?”

His eyes snap to Sam’s. “What?”

“God loved Lucifer,” he says. “It’s why he imprisoned him rather than destroying him. It’s why he left him a way out. Maybe it’s why he set up the apocalypse in the first place. I don’t know, I don’t care. All I know is that I’m not letting him out, ever. So we’re going to destroy every seal we can.”

Some can’t be undone, like the first one, a righteous man torturing an innocent soul in hell. But there are plenty that can, hopefully enough, hopefully most. If there are less than sixty six seals available, then Lucifer is never getting out of his cage.

“There were originally ten thousand seals,” Cas answers and Sam gets lightheaded for reasons that have nothing to do with thin air. “Only two thousand and thirty four seals are still viable.”

Okay, that’s better. Not great, but better. “Let’s get that number down to sixty five.”

“You are different,” Cas says.

Of course he’s different. His father’s alive. His brother never went to hell. Sam has never known the utter desolation of being completely alone, of grief and guilt so heavy he’s surprised it didn’t break his spine as surely as Jake’s knife in his back. He doesn’t actually remember feeling it, which is no small mercy, but he saw the effects of living with it, which is almost as bed. He'd thought what he’s feeling because of Jessica is as low as he could get. It’s not even close.

He wants to dig up her bones and breathe life into them, but at almost a year dead he thinks that’s beyond even this strange new power. Even like this, he’s failing Jessica one more time.

“Got any ideas?” he asks. “It wasn’t like this before. With the blood.”

He’d drank Ruby nearly dry more than once. It had been a high and then a crash and never did it give him access to this type of power.

“Azazel is – was a prince of hell,” Cas answers.

Sam frowns. “I thought he was king?”

“He was regent,” he corrects, “but to be a prince is separate from being ruler of hell. Lucifer created Lilith from bone, as Adam and Eve were made. The princes were created from his blood. Azazel’s blood is, in a way, Lucifer’s.”

Lucifer’s blood. Sam, his vessel, drinking down Lucifer’s blood, as a baby and now. Except as a baby he’d only had a few drops. He’d consumed a lot more than that back at the cabin.

Demon blood always wore off. The few drops of Azazel’s blood he’d gotten as a baby never had. He probably should have taken that into consideration, but there hadn’t been any time.

“Lucifer is evil but he is not a demon,” Cas continues.

Sam realizes suddenly that he did have power like this once. When he locked away Lucifer inside of him and took his power for his own. It’s not the same, not even close, but it’s similar. “This is what angel blood does?”

“No,” he says. “This is what Archangel Lucifer’s blood does to his perfect vessel. I believe. This has never happened before, so I cannot be certain. You are, as always, one of kind, Sam Winchester.”

It’s not quite a compliment, but it’s not as combative as he remembers Castiel being in the beginning. He’ll take it. “Guess we’ll figure it out together, then. If you’re sticking around to help prevent the apocalypse.”

If he’s not, this is going to be more than difficult. Tracking down all the seals without an angel on his side isn’t going to be impossible, but pretty damn close. And he doesn’t know how much time he has. Hell is going to be pissed about him killing Azazel. Heaven is probably going to take notice once he starts destroying seals so they can never be opened. Not to mention, he’s definitely going to be on hunters’ radar. Even if Dad can keep his mouth shut about him drinking demon blood, which he knows better than to rely on, him bringing back people from the dead is going to spread quickly. He’s going to be hunted at all sides, just like last time.

At least last time he had Dean, even broken, even when he was broken himself. He still had his brother.

But this is the price for saving him. For making sure that Dean is never in the position to kick off the apocalypse in the first place, to make it so Lucifer never again walks the earth even if heaven and hell reincarnate him and Dean and try and start this all over again.

He’s going to be killed for it, he knows, by demons or angels or hunters. But that doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things.

“Yes,” Cas says. “It is better for us all if the future you saw never comes to pass. I will help you.”

He grins, clapping Cas on the shoulder, and only laughs at the glare he receives in return. They have to get out of here before the altitude makes him loopy. Maybe it already has.

He’s going to save the world for his brother and he’s not even going to get to keep him.

How fucked up is that?

#i've done sam pov this whole time but also #what's going on in the hunter community is so fun #human meg is staying with bobby #jim's parish convinced sam is an angel #caleb having been the one to tell ellen exactly what happened #ellen and jo being staunchly pro sam for obvious reasons #jo having to use the 'i saw your brother and he told you to help me' to get dean to hunt with her #sam showing up in front of a roomful of hunters who've all heard the rumors in sweats and bed head #at once confirming and dispelling dozens of rumors at once #sam being oblivious like my actions can't possibly be having any long reaching consequences #no reason to look into that at all #meanwhile #supernatural

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sturniololuvz · 3 days ago

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hey i would love a story where the triplets younger sister (15-16) always was cuddling her brothers and kissing their cheeks because it was how she was raised and when her friends came over she was cuddling matt on the couch and her friends started to make fun of her the next day at school so she distanced herself from the boys, refusing to even go near them so they talk to her about it

PLSSSSS

okayyyy

“Too Old for Hugs?”

Sturniolos x sister

Y/N had always been affectionate with her brothers. It wasn’t weird—it was just how they were raised. She hugged them when they got home, kissed their cheeks before they left, and cuddled up next to them on the couch whenever they were watching a movie. It was just normal.

Or at least, she thought it was.

The night before, her friends had come over, and she had been curled up against Matt on the couch like always, his arm lazily draped around her as they watched some random YouTube video.

She didn’t think anything of it—until the next day at school.

Her so-called friends had spent all day teasing her.

“Dude, you’re way too old to be cuddling your brothers like that.”

“Do you seriously still kiss them on the cheek? That’s so embarrassing.”

“You act like a little kid, Y/N. It’s kinda weird.”

She had laughed it off at first, pretending it didn’t bother her. But as the comments kept coming, something in her started to shift.

Maybe… they were right?

Maybe she was too old for that stuff.

So, she stopped.

At first, the boys didn’t notice.

Y/N had never been super obvious about her affection—it was just there in the little moments. But when she suddenly stopped hugging them when they got home, stopped curling up next to them during movie nights, stopped even sitting close to them—it didn’t take long for them to realize something was wrong.

Chris was the first to say something.

“Why are you sitting over there?” he asked one night, frowning when he saw Y/N sitting on the opposite side of the couch instead of next to Matt like she usually did.

Y/N shrugged. “Just wanted to sit here.”

Matt and Nick exchanged a look.

“Okay… but, like, you never sit over there,” Nick pointed out.

Y/N kept her eyes on the TV, pretending not to care. “Maybe I wanna start.”

Chris narrowed his eyes. “You mad at us or something?”

“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

Matt tilted his head. “Then what’s up?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing.

And the boys knew it wasn’t nothing.

But Y/N was stubborn, and no matter how much they asked, she kept brushing it off.

It wasn’t until later that night that they finally got the truth out of her.

She had been in her room, scrolling through her phone, when there was a knock at her door.

“Y/N/N, open up,” Chris called.

She sighed. “Go away.”

“Not happening,” Matt’s voice added.

“Seriously,” Nick chimed in. “We’re coming in either way.”

Before she could protest, the door opened, and the three of them stepped inside, all looking way too serious for her liking.

Chris sat on the edge of her bed. “Alright, talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she muttered.

Matt scoffed. “Bullshit.”

Nick crossed his arms. “Y/N, come on. You’ve been acting weird all week. You won’t even look at us.”

Chris nudged her foot. “Did we do something?”

That made her look up. “No! It’s not you guys, I swear.”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “Then what is it?”

She hesitated.

Chris softened his voice. “Y/N/N, whatever it is, you can tell us.”

She chewed her lip, debating for a second, before finally sighing.

“My friends…” she started, picking at a loose thread on her blanket. “They—um—they said it was weird that I always hug you guys. And that I still kiss your cheeks and stuff. They said I act like a little kid.”

Silence.

Then—

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chris blurted.

Matt sat up straighter. “That’s why you’ve been acting weird?”

Y/N felt heat rush to her face. “I just—maybe they’re right? Like, I am kinda old for that stuff—”

“No, you’re not,” Nick interrupted firmly.

Chris shook his head, clearly pissed. “Who cares what they think? They’re your friends, not your damn family.”

Matt nudged her knee. “Y/N, you’ve always been affectionate with us. That’s just how you are. That’s how we are. It’s not weird—it’s just us.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. And if they don’t get that, then they don’t really know you.”

Y/N swallowed, feeling her eyes sting a little. “I just didn’t want you guys to think I was weird too.”

Chris groaned, grabbing her wrist and dragging her into his chest. “Dude, shut up and hug me right now.”

Y/N let out a wet laugh, melting into his arms.

Matt sighed dramatically and wrapped his arms around both of them. “Yeah, you’re never getting rid of us.”

Nick rolled his eyes but joined in, squishing her between them. “Seriously. You’re stuck with us, sorry.”

Y/N sniffled. “I love you guys.”

Chris kissed the top of her head. “We love you too, dummy. And don’t listen to those assholes.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, screw them.”

Nick smirked. “But, uh, if you did wanna give us their names…”

Y/N snorted. “No fighting my friends, Nick.”

Chris grinned. “No promises.”

And just like that, everything felt right again.

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #sturniolos #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sister sturniolo #sturniolo series

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ikbitchssss · 3 days ago

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I Just Want Your Heart (Daryl x Half-Walker!Reader)

Warnings/Tags: Major Character Death, Angst, Cussing, Blood, Violence, and Normal TWD stuff. If anymore, please tell me and I'll add it!

Season: In the 30 days between season 3 and 4.

Words: 3K

Plot: Daryl finds a walker, but she can talk. She’s always chewing on gum, and her body is a bit rotten. It’s like she was half dead. He goes ok to help her and take care of her, not knowing why. Until one day, he does something he might regret.

A/N: Hope y'all enjoy;3

(OG BLOG: @idkbishsss)

Daryl Dixon was a man who did not fall in love with anyone. He was a rough around the edges, redneck, quiet, distant, guy. He did not fall in love. He loved only one person, his brother. Lost together somewhere in an apocalypse world and treated him like shit most of the time sure, but he did love him. As much as he wouldn’t admit it because Merle would just scoff and roll his eyes.

Daryl Dixon was not a man of groups. He was a part of one, only because he had to. Merle said it was because they needed him, but Daryl had a feeling that it was because Merle needed them. Daryl didn’t do groups, but he understands the importance of them. As long as they left him only he was okay.

Daryl Dixon was not a family man. He never wanted a family. His only brother was now dead. He didn’t need a family. Sure, he had a small care for the kids in the group, and didn’t want them to die. He would protect them, but it wasn’t his family.

Daryl Dixon was a lair. He was a family man, these people at the prison were his family. It was his group. He lied about it himself and others about those things for sure, but he never lied about not falling in love. Sure he’d love, in like, a family way. He’d never fall in love though, he’d never allow himself to.

Rick had ordered Daryl to go out and get more fuel for the cars. They were low and needed more for runs.

Daryl got in a trunk and rode up to a few big ass rich people houses he’d seen a few weeks ago. They had a lot of cars and trucks in the neighborhood, meaning a lotta fuel if no one raided it already. In fact, a few houses were having parties, so there were more than usual for bug neighborhoods.

He pulled up to the first house and went to go get the fuel out of the cars and trucks. Using the classic suck on a hose until you feel like passing out method, he got nothing. Hence the sucking too long. He decided he’d check the houses later if he had time and moved on to the next set of cars and trucks. These ones look promising, and were very promising. Fuel came pouring out like the rain, he filled two gallons worth of gas from four cars and one truck.

He put those gallons back in the back seat, and went to the truck bed to grab more fuel cans. However, something stopped him, a loud screaming noise. He grabbed his crossbow and looked around for the source. He heard giggling and saw the house it was coming from.

He slowly approached the home with extreme caution. He turned around the halls that lead him to a bedroom. He could hear the smacking of gum coming from the room. A girl was sitting there on the bed. A girl was graying skin, dead walker eyes, and a few broken limbs. You.

You casually popped the bones back into place. You looked over to him and smiled, he drew his crossbow up and pointed it to you.

“Woah! I’m not gonna bite you, I am not like the other ones.” You made a joke out of it while putting your hands up. He was confused, what the hell is happening? Why is a Walker, a dead woman, talking? And why isn’t he shooting it’s head off?

You got up and walked over to him, still with your hands up. Your smile faded and you looked a little nervous. “Look I was freaked out and confused when I woke up and was… somewhat alive. But I don’t hurt people, and it still hurts when you hurt me… so please just let me go…” You begged for your life as if you were human. Daryl didn’t understand, you aren’t human, you barely look human. Well, you didn’t look like a walker, you still had flesh, but still, you looked dead. It freaked him out.

You knew he was freaked out, it was all over his face after you said those words. But honestly? Daryl was more than just freaked out, a small part of him was intrigued. Which wasn’t like him. He wasn’t an intrigued guy, but he wanted to know you, know what happened to you.

“Why’d ya scream?” He asked gruffly. You didn’t expect his voice to be that deep, he must smoke something.

You wave it off and shrug. “Walker grabbed my leg, forgot they don’t bite me anymore.” He was even more intrigued by this, you were immune? Or just half turned. He knew the group would shoot you as soon as you got close because of what you looked like. He’s had personal experience in that at the fram, but he wanted to know you.

“Look… I’ll show you the best water and food and well anything you need! In this area and neighborhood… just let me live… please.” As you begged him again he put his crossbow down. He told himself not to, to put it back up, kill you, threaten you. But he didn’t. He just nodded and let you lead the way to show him things.

You were a talker, and walkers didn’t even look at you when you were being so loud. Daryl found it strangely interesting. He’d never been interested in anyone really, let alone a woman. Yet, there was something about you that made him wonder and think more than he ever let himself before.

You were showing him a map of the area and places that hadn’t been raided already. “Now there’s a horde here, but when you go just tell me about a week before and I can steer them clear from your path!”

He looked up at you, an expression on his face that could only be described as a little confused. “Now why would ya’ help us..?” He asked, quietly, you guessed he wasn’t much of a talker.

“Meh! If we are neighbors I have to help you right?” You said it like it was obvious. Like people just help one another in these conditions. “It’s what good neighbors do!” You exclaimed, Daryl just nodded. It wasn’t the old world normal people knew any more, but you act like it. Then again, Daryl didn’t know much of normal, so who was he to judge? Besides, the help would be nice.

You altered your smile, your big grin going away into a slight smile. For a dead girl, you seemed happier than most people. Maybe that was the secret, being dead. But Daryl had people, he wasn’t going to leave them. They needed him just as much as he needed them.

After it was all said and done Daryl went back to getting fuel. You stayed around just kind of watching him. It made him nervous, and he felt a strange new feeling he hadn’t felt before. He wished he could place it, but after years of controlling his emotions, they were all over the place. He didn’t know how to pen point the feeling he felt.

After he was all done with one car, he’d move onto the next one. You’d follow him, just standing around, watching. It almost creeped him out at some points, almost. He wasn’t used to people watching him so closely. Maybe this is how people felt about him. But earlier you were so talkative, and now you just watched, quietly.

He put the last two gallons of fuel in the truck and turned around after closing the door. He jumped a little when he saw you behind him. It wasn’t noticeable to you, just him. You just smiled and put a new piece of gum in your mouth.

“I have to… leave.” He mumbled walking over to the truck door. He glanced back at you, seeing that you were no longer smiling. You stood back, looking back at your house.

“I’ll be back…” He said. He thought he was stupid for saying it, but when he looked up and saw your smile, those thoughts faded into nothing. He pulled out of there immediately, why does he feel this way? Questions plagued his mind as he drove back to the prison.

He pulled back into the prison and didn’t say a word to anyone, not even to Rick, who’d asked him many questions about the area. He just helped unload his truck and stayed quiet with the small nod a few times. As the sun started to go down over the hills and people started to go inside, Daryl soon followed them. He then walked back into his cell and pulled the thin sheet as a door over the opening.

Daryl put his crossbow down with his stuff. He took his shoes off and threw them next to his boots. Beth found him “nice” sneakers to wear. He only wore them because it made her happy. He took off his vets and threw it on the top bunk

He laid down on the bottom bunk. He was on his back trying to sleep, but he just kept thinking about you. He knew it was a bad idea to think about you this much, but he couldn’t control himself anymore like he used to. You were talkative and almost happy, even though you were dead.

He has so many questions. Why’d you look freshly dead? Why’d you chew gum? If you bite him, will he turn? Can he even get these answered? Probably not, he’d probably not even go back. A broken promise he gave you based on impulse.

He wasn’t like this. He didn’t let himself be like this, he wasn’t weak. Yet, he was thinking about you. He just wanted to see you, but he won’t let himself. He’s not going to let himself. But then again, what if you didn’t like him?

He switched onto his side and buried the side of his head into his pillow. He groaned, he wasn’t going to sleep with his thoughts racing like this. Why was he so obsessed with you? You weren’t anything other than another traveler he met, a very interesting undead traveler he met. He needed to let it go.

If he just doesn’t go near the houses, he’d be fine!

Unfortunately, Rick wanted to go to the houses to raid them. They needed more food and supplies. He was planning everything out for a few days. He told Daryl to lead the car and truck on his motorcycle.

He led them there but was far ahead. You were out killing walkers and humming. You turned and saw Daryl, you dropped your knife and ran up to his bike. “Hey! You’re back!” You said joyfully. Daryl looked worried.

“My group, they’re gonna be here soon. Ya gotta hide…” he said. You looked confused, as if you didn’t understand that his group could hurt you. He turned over to the car and truck coming in and shoved you in the pile. He killed a walker and put it on top of you.

You started to breathe heavily. You started to get scared. It reminded you of your death, but Daryl put you here. And you trusted him. He’s the only thing or person that hasn’t tried to kill you.

Daryl said he’d raid your home, as he did half of it already. The rest of the group went into other houses. He waited till they were out of sight and he picked you up from the ground and walked into the house.

“I said hide, girl.” He shoved you on the couch. And sighed. He picked up a few things and shoved them into his bag. One of two lighters, a water bottle, a few canned foods, and a knife. He then sat down next to you. “Won’t take it all from here...” he mumbles looking anywhere but at you.

You just grabbed some gum and chewed on it. Not paying much mind to him.

“So. Your group. How come I can’t meet them?” You asked like it was urgent, like somehow you needed to meet them right now.

He mumbled a little to himself before answering, “I don’t know how they’ll react to ya,” he paused and looked at your eyes, yellow and bloodshot, “hell I still don’t really know what to think…” He said with a grunt. You giggled, giggled at him.

He looked confused by it. “I’m a walker, who would know what to think?” You explained. He smiled a little and nodded his head. He guessed he understood that, who would react well?

You got up and walked up stairs, you came back down with a bag. “Here. My old bag of supplies before I turned, enjoy your raid of my neighborhood stranger.” She smiled and he noticed that you weren’t chewing gum anymore, why?

He looked down and opened the bag, it was full of food and maps. It had a few knives too. He looked up thank you but you were gone, just like that. He missed his chance to talk to you. He just sat there, what was he meant to do? Go look for you? He had a job, raid this place.

He got up and looked through the house a little more, he found some things others could use. He guessed you didn’t use soap or cleaning things, you were dead. He had your bag and another full one of needs and others of wants. Beth and Carl requested things since they are still too young for runs.

He walked back outside and put the stuff in the truck. Rick and Michonne got done with theirs and walked over, same with Maggie and Glenn. A few new guys as well, but Daryl didn’t care to know their names. He should really learn your name.

Also, you weren’t as talkative as last time… why?

The next time Daryl went on a hunt he stopped by that neighborhood, you were nowhere to be found. You just disappeared into thin air. At a blink of an eye you were gone when he saw you last and you never showed up again. What happened? Did you not like him? Lots of why’s with you.

He looked up and down the neighborhood, but it was no use. He didn’t want to give up. You were so; no. He needed to stop, he couldn’t let himself get this close to you. It almost felt like… love.

What if you were dead?

That thought hit him when he sat on his bike. Dead. No? You? But it was completely reasonable. You were half walker, you almost blended right in. You could’ve easily been killed by someone. What if it was someone in his group? What if his family killed you?

No. They aren’t his family and you are nothing to him. You talk together only a few times, yet it felt like he knew you longer.

He got on his bike and headed back on the open road. He was going to the prison again, he got a few rabbits that would be fine for now.

The breeze was cold, a nice contrast to the hot sun that beat his pale skin to a tan. He always loved taking these bike rides. They were peaceful, especially when he was stressing about stupid things. No more of that, but there was something he the road

He pressed the brakes, hard. You stood in the middle of the road, scared. He got off his bike and ran to you. The whole, not stressing about things always lasts him two seconds.!“Are you okay?” He said, you hugged him.

“Hey stranger..” You just sobbed into his neck. His beautiful, fleshy, biteable neck. You pushed him away. He was confused, why? Did you really not like him? Is what he feared right?

“I’m going to bite you… I want to bite you… I keep wanting to bite people… I’m freaking out! Gum doesn’t help anymore!”

Daryl grabbed your hand. “Then let’s find some asshole to cure that hunger.” You looked at him like he was crazy. Hell, he knew the plan was crazy, but losing you was crazier. He couldn’t lose you, he loved you. Goddamn it, he fell fast and hard, but he loved you. He really did.

You pulled your hand away from his. He wanted to run and hug you, make you stop running from this, he can handle a bite. “It doesn't work like that! I just got hungrier..” You mumble, you tried it already. It didn’t work. He grabbed your hand.

“I’ll find a way. I need you…” he mumbled that last part but it made your heart break. It happened in three swift moves. He kissed you, you bite his lip, you pull back. It was all so fast that you nor Daryl had time to realize what happened. What you both did. A kiss and a bite.

“Stranger-“

“Daryl.”

“Daryl… I, you’ll turn…” You mumble, you’d be crying if your tear ducts worked. Goddamn it, he had a family, you were going to kill him. He nodded and laid his head on yours. “And I’ll be yours…” he mumbles. He knows he’ll miss his family, it’s why he sheds a tear, but he wants to be with you. Maybe you’ll both be half dead. Maybe you’ll find a way to live. Maybe his family will accept you guys.

Daryl Dixon was a man of love. Fast, messy, sweet, heartbreaking love. He’d give the world, he’d give himself, for the one he loved. Over and over and over again. He was a lover, because he allowed himself to fall in love. He was all the things he thought he wasn’t, because he was a liar. But he would no longer be a liar, because he knew he was these things. He was just Daryl Dixon. A very half-dead and in love Daryl Dixon.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #idkbish writes #the walking dead #fanfiction #fanfic #twd #norman reedus #writing #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl dixon imagine #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic

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to-the-stars8 · 2 days ago

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The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

Front Page Scandal

“Are you ready?” You asked, and Damian responded by nodding enthusiastically. “Here we go!”

You pushed the swing and watched as the little boy swung up in the air before back towards you. Damian shrieked and giggled, exclaiming that Duke should hold his hand. Duke, who was quickly catching up on his little brother’s swings, reached out. While they were occupied in trying to match each other, you looked for Mr. Wayne. He had surprised the kids at the part an hour earlier after taking the rest of the afternoon off since it was a Friday.

On the other side of the playground, in an empty field, was Bruce playing kickball with the rest of the kids. He was a self-elected coach of the game, especially since there was such an age range of children, and was currently running around with the little red ball in his hands. A mass of children were following him, some of his brood while others weren’t, with a big, silly grin on his face.

“Look at your dad,” You said to the boys. “Doesn’t he look a bit goofy running around like that?”

Duke laughed and happily exclaimed, “Yeah!”

Suddenly, another voice came up behind you, and said, “Excuse me, Miss?”

You whipped around on your heels, feeling your heart jump out of your skin from fright. Grabbing the chains of the swings with one hand to slow their momentum, you looked her over with full suspicion. She was pretty, with long red hair and bright brown eyes that instantly caught your attention.

“Can I help you?” You asked, stepping back to be closer to the kids.

Her smile seemed fake. It was too forced and didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m a reporter with the Gotham Gazette, and was wondering if you would be willing to comment on your relationship with Mr. Wayne.”

That was your cue to get the kids out of there.

Truthfully, you didn’t fully read your contract through, but you did remember one part of it (mainly because it was written in red ink and highlighted): Under no circumstances were you to speak to the press, nor were you allowed to let them speak to the kids. You picked up Damian, who loudly whined about his swing time being cut in half, and took Duke by the hand.

“I can’t speak to you,” You stated before retreating towards Mr. Wayne.

He was still running around with the other kids, but, when he noticed you hurrying towards him, all fun seemed to pause. His eyes locked in on the woman behind you, and, after telling the kids to keep playing without him, started toward the three of you.

“What’s going on,” Bruce asked, gently grabbing you by the arm to maneuver your positions so that he was in between you and the woman who was rapidly approaching.

“Reporter,” was all you could manage before the redhead was greeting Mr. Wayne.

Bruce groaned and ran a hand down the sides of his face before he turned to her. “Vicky, what’re you doing bothering my family?”

“I’m not bothering your family,” She stated matter-of-factly.

“No, just my nanny, huh?” He said.

“Nannies have a lot to say,” Vicky quipped as she looked back at you with a wink. “Especially the pretty ones.”

You would have taken the compliment if you knew it was genuine.

Bruce sighed before he called the rest of the kids over, telling them that it was about time to go home. They were all angry, Dick more so, and pointedly glared at Vicky who cooly stared at all of them. Between comforting and looking at Vicky, you could not help feeling a tingling sense that this would not be the last time she would come sniffing you out.

---

The shopping was usually done by Alfred, but he had been pulled away by some work. Truly, you were happy to do it. There was something freeing about going out to do normal things without the kids. You could listen to the music you wanted, pick out items that you actually liked, and, most importantly, you didn’t have to divide your attention in six different ways. Juggling grocery bags, you attempted to grab the handle of the trunk of the car, but it seemed impossible without dropping something. That was until a hand reached from your side and grabbed. You gasped and took a few steps back before you realized who it was. Vicky.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” You asked, throwing the groceries into the back of the car. Slamming the trunk, you began to round the car to the driver’s side with Vicky hot on your heels. It felt worse than having the kids following you.

“A hello or thank you would be the appropriate response,” She said.

The frustration grew in your chest when your keys decided it would be a good time to disappear. “Hello, thanks for helping. You can leave.”

“I just have a few questions,” Vick insisted, getting out her notepad.

You groaned, saying, “I can’t talk to you! It’s literally in my contract that I can’t talk to you. Unless you’re gonna start paying my bills, then I think you need to leave.”

Vicky stared at you in the same cool way she looked at the kids a few days ago. It felt as though she was silently saying that it would get you to talk one way or another. Thinning your lips, you turned back to your bag to continue looking for the keys. She sighed, before leaning on the car next to yours.

“Just answer one question, then I’ll leave you alone.”

Side-eyeing her, you mumbled, “Ask it and I’ll think about answering it.”

There was a sliver of a smirk on her face as he coyly asked, “Have you ever slept with Bruce?”

“What? No! What is it with people asking me that,” You grumbled, finally finding the keys. “Aha!”

Vicky quickly said, “I’m just surprised is all. Bruce seems like the type to fuck anything not nailed down. I will say, though, he’s skilled with his tongue.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes at her, before opening the car door. You felt flushed all of a sudden, searing hot anger rushing through your veins. It was like your heart jumped at the thought of Bruce touching another woman. Bruce had brought home women before, and he would again. It made no sense that you felt offended that he had a sex life while you didn’t.

“Yeah, I don’t care. My job is the kids.”

“You’ve never thought about getting into bed with him?” She asked, stepping closer so that she was leaning against the back door of your car. You could smell her perfume, the flowery, expensive scent nearly made you gag.

Opening the car door, you turned to her to say, “Again, my job is taking care of the kids, not fucking Bruce Wayne. I’ll leave that to his partners.”

“He brings home a lot of lovers?” She tapped the pen to her notepad.

You snickered, mumbling, “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“How’s that?”

Shaking your head, you closed the car door and started it, pulling out of the parking lot. Yup, you thought, you knew this was going to come back to bite you in the ass.

You were folding clothes in the playroom, just having sent the kids off to school with Alfred, when Bruce came barrelling in. His momentum was so quick that he was nearly kicking up dust. His face was hard, with his eyebrows pinched together and his mouth pressed together in a pout. Bruce was angry about something, but you couldn’t think of a reason why.

When he threw the paper down on the cushion, you flinched at the title.

Bruce Wayne a Player? The Nanny Says No!

Under the caption was a piss-poor picture of you getting into the car with the kids all around you. You felt angrier at the kids' pictures being plastered all over the front pages than the title.

“You talked to the press?” Bruce yelled.

You drew back a little, surprised. You had heard him yell before, but never directly at you. It was more than likely out of fear, you knew, but that didn't make you like it in any case. Anger filled your veins and you decided to give him the same medicine. “I didn’t talk to the press! Vicky Vale harassed me when I went shopping the other day.”

“What’s this, then, hm?” Bruce asked, opening to the column of the story and beginning to read. “‘Nanny Wayne, a new, popular figure of the Wayne Household, stated that Bruce Wayne does not play around as much as we were led to believe.’”

“I said nothing of the sort!”

“Nan, Vicky knows better than to lie about me, or my kids. She wouldn’t put her career on the line for a damn title,” Bruce spat.

“But, I would? Maybe you don’t know her as well as you thought,” You said as you put the folded clothes into a basket. “Outside of the bedroom, I mean.”

Bruce huffed before turning to leave, stopping at the door, and coming back over to you. “What did you say to her, then?”

For a second, you thought about not telling him, just out of spite, but you couldn’t lie to him when you thought about how it would hurt you and the kids. You told him all about how Vicky found you in the parking lot to her mentioning how good he was with his tongue. The entire time, you watched his face. It remained frozen in the same pinched face angry expression that he had when he came in.

When you were done, he finally met your eyes, saying, “And that’s all you said?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Bruce,” You softly insisted. “I promise.”

He grew quiet, like he was thinking, and then leaned over to pick up the newspaper. Looking at it, he said, “I’ll handle this.”

“Bruce,” You called out to him as he began to leave. He turned back toward you, and you around the couch towards him. It took you a second to find the words, but they eventually tumbled out of your mouth. “You would always want me to tell you something if it bothered me, right?”

“Yes.”

“I…I don’t like the fact that I’m always getting asked if we’re sleeping together,” You stated. “I’m good at my job.”

“You are,” He stated. “Good at your job, I mean.”

You smiled, and he stepped closer to you. Close enough that, if you were to get onto your tip-toes and lean up, you could kiss him- As simple as that. Though, you opted for a quiet, “Thank you.”

Bruce nodded before he looked like he realized what he was doing. “I’ll take care of it, Nan. Of all of it. I promise.”

"Okay, Bruce," You said.

As he left, the butterflies in your stomach went wild.

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universefcb · 1 day ago

Note

Hellooo!! Could you write something with Pau Cubarsí? Where he meets Y/N's family, and is terrified of her father and older brothers? But in the end everything turns out okay. Something fluffy and funny please hehe 🤭💓

↬❥ Mission impossible

Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

sy: He meets his family for the first time, but his brothers are protectors.

a/n: Sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

warnings: No warning.

Today was a big day. Pau Cubarsí would finally meet his family. You were excited, but he... not so much.

“Baby, you’re freezing!” you said, holding his hands as you walked to your front door.

“I’m fine... just a little nervous,” Pau admitted, trying to hide it.

He had heard a lot about his family. His mother was a sweetheart, but his father and older brothers... well, they had a slight history of being overprotective. And Pau, despite being a fearless defender on the field, felt like this would be his toughest defense yet.

When they entered, their mother welcomed them with a warm hug.

“Dude! I finally meet you, darling! Y/N talks about you so much!” she said, smiling.

He smiled in relief. At least one positive point.

But then… they arrived.

His father and two older brothers walked into the room. Three tall men, arms crossed, with sharp gazes straight at Pau. The aura of intimidation was almost palpable.

“So you’re our sister’s boyfriend?” one of her brothers asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes, it’s me,” Pau replied, swallowing hard.

“You play for Barcelona, right?” his father asked, without looking away.

“That’s right, sir.”

“Good to know. Because if you do anything wrong with my daughter, we’ll mark you like a defender in a Champions League final.”

Pau almost choked on his own air. You had to hold back your laughter.

“Dad!” you complained, giving him a light shove.

But his brothers laughed, amused by the evident terror in their boyfriend's eyes.

“Relax, Cubarsí,” the other brother said, giving him a none-too-gentle pat on the back. “We just need to make sure you’re the right guy for our sister.”

Pau nodded quickly, trying to hide his panic.

“I promise I am. I like her a lot. I would never do anything to hurt her.”

His father and brothers looked at each other, as if they were considering his answer. You could have sworn they were holding back laughter.

After a few tense minutes, his father finally broke the silence.

“Well, then come eat with us. Let’s see if you can handle the family dinner.”

If Pau thought the worst was over, he was wrong.

During dinner, his brothers began a real interrogation.

“What is your intention with our sister?”

“Do you have any exes that still talk to you?”

“If my sister asked for your card, would you give it to her without hesitation?”

“Guys!!” you interjected, rolling your eyes. “You guys look like those annoying barbecue uncles!”

Pau smiled nervously and, with each successful answer, he received looks of approval. In the end, he was more relaxed and even laughing at some stories about his family.

When the night ended and you were leaving, your father finally gave a small smile and gave Pau a firm handshake.

“You passed the test, kid. But keep your eyes open.”

His brothers crossed their arms and nodded in sync.

Pau let out a sigh of relief and smiled.

“Thank you, sir. I promise to take good care of her.”

On the way back, you looked at him and laughed.

“See? It was peaceful.”

He stared at you in disbelief.

“Easy?! I thought I wasn’t going to get out of there alive!”

You laughed and grabbed his hand.

“Well, now they like you. Next time will be much better.”

Pau took a deep breath and smiled, finally relaxing.

“I hope so. Because honestly, I'd rather mark Real Madrid strikers than face your father again.”

You laughed and kissed him on the cheek.

“My hero.”

#barcelonafanfic #fc barcelona #pau cubarsi imagine #pau cubarsi #pau cubarsi x femeni!reader #pau cubarsí x reader #universefcb #pau cubarsi x reader #pau cubarsí #pau cubarsí x y/n #pau cubarsí x you #football x y/n #football x oc #football x reader #football imagine #football

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fake-mouthstatic · 15 hours ago

Text

baby fever

@bucktommyfluffebruary, day 20. rated G.

💕

"So sorry I'm late," Tommy says as Chimney opens the door with a tired but bright smile.

"No problem, we saved you some dinner," Chim says, ushering him inside and through to the kitchen where Evan and Maddie are sitting with a sleeping Jee and her new little brother.

Tommy freezes in the doorway, his brain short circuiting when he sees Evan carefully cradling little Daniel in his arms, grinning down at him with a smile so bright Tommy almost feels like he needs sunglasses.

read the rest under the cut or on ao3 // other days here

"Hi Tommy," Maddie says, looking radiant as ever as she smiles at him across the living room.

It's a moment before he answers, too caught up in the sight of his boyfriend so tenderly holding a newborn; he could easily imagine it being their child and the thought sends a pleasant warmth through his chest.

"Uh, hi, sorry," he says eventually, leaning down to peck Maddie on the cheek. "How are you doing?"

Maddie smiles, joy evident in her eyes.

"Tired but good."

"Everything went okay? No complications?"

"He took a while to actually come out," she says, casting an inordinately fond look at her son, "but other than that, peachy."

Chim reappears with a plate of leftovers and Tommy takes it gratefully, his stomach rumbling at the delicious smell of casserole wafting into his nostrils.

He sits carefully on the couch next to Evan, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"How was work?" Evan asks softly, finally tearing his gaze away from the sleeping bundle in his arms.

"Two alarm turned into a three alarm turned into a four."

Evan grimaces in sympathy. "Oof."

"Yeah, oof. How was your day?"

"Perfect," Evan says, returning his soft smile to his adorable nephew.

"You're really great with kids," Tommy tells Evan as they set off home a couple of hours later, the Jeep's engine rumbling gently beneath them.

Evan smiles, looking shyly pleased.

"I just love them," he says, practically beaming. "Kids are awesome."

His smile fades suddenly and Tommy can almost see the gears whirring in his head.

"You, uh, you want kids?" he asks hesitantly. "I know we haven't really talked about it yet."

Tommy smiles, reaching over to rest his hand on Evan's thigh; the rate their relationship had been going they'd barely had time to breathe, let alone talk about the important stuff.

"One day, yeah," Tommy says, his words putting a smile back on Evan's face. "Definitely one, maybe two."

"Okay, good," Evan says, seeming relieved, "because I definitely want kids."

"Yeah, I figured from the way you wouldn't let your nephew go all night," Tommy teases, grinning as Evan blushes. "And honestly? I've seen you with kids enough to know it'd be criminal for you not to be a dad."

Evan smiles, bright and shy all at once.

"You're gonna be a great dad too, you know."

Tommy smiles softly.

"I hope so."

Evan lifts Tommy's hand from his thigh, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

"I know so."

#bucktommyfluffebruary #char writes a thing #char does fluffebruary #911 #bucktommy

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yara0546 · 3 days ago

Text

Racing Hearts | Lee Jeno

Anonymous asked : Hello! I'd love a scenario featuring only Jeno. He's dating the sister of an F1 driver – either Max Verstappen or Charles Leclerc would work. Could it focus on him spending time with her brother, perhaps including them going to watch an F1 race? He's a known F1 fan, so that would fit perfectly. Don't worry if you don't know much about F1 or the drivers, also it's ok if you don't wanna do it… thanks <3<3<3

I'm sorry if you don't like it 🥲...

୨୧ Pairing : lee jeno x reader (Charles Leclerc)

୨୧ Genre : Romance, Comedy, Sports (F1), Fluff

୨୧ Word Count : 2,000 - 2,500 words.

୨୧ Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

Masterlist

Jeno had been a Formula 1 fan for as long as he could remember, but he never imagined that one day, he'd be sitting in the Ferrari garage, watching the Monaco Grand Prix with his girlfriend’s brother Charles Leclerc.

Dating you was a dream in itself, but the added bonus of getting to spend time around F1 made his heart race almost as fast as the cars on track. However, today wasn't just about watching a race. It was about proving to Charles that he was worthy of dating his little sister.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” you teased, adjusting Jeno’s Ferrari cap.

“I’ve faced screaming fans, strict choreographers, and weekly workouts. I think I can handle one protective big brother,” he said confidently.

You laughed, but before you could respond, Charles strolled up, already dressed in his race suit.

"Jeno," Charles greeted, offering a firm handshake. "Ready to see what a real sport looks like?"

Jeno chuckled, used to the friendly banter. "Of course. But don't get too jealous if I decide to switch careers."

Charles smirked. "Let’s see if you survive the pit wall first."

You shook your head at them, sensing the silent challenge between them. "Play nice, boys."

Jeno was practically buzzing as he followed Charles through the paddock. The energy was electric—mechanics rushing around, engines roaring, the smell of burning rubber in the air.

“You okay?” Charles asked, glancing at Jeno, who looked like a kid in a candy store.

Jeno nodded quickly. "I think I just fell in love all over again. But don’t worry, you’re not my type."

Charles laughed, finally relaxing a little. “Good. Otherwise, I’d have to fight you.”

They reached the Ferrari garage, where team engineers were making last-minute adjustments to Charles’s car.

“You can stay here during the race,” Charles said. “Best seat in the house.”

Jeno grinned. “I feel like I just unlocked VIP mode in real life.”

A few minutes later, Charles was called to the grid. Before leaving, he turned to Jeno. “Take care of my sister while I’m out there.”

Jeno didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

Jeno sat on the edge of his seat, his hands clenched as the lights went out.

"Come on, Charles," he muttered under his breath.

Watching an F1 race on TV was one thing, but seeing it live, feeling the vibrations, hearing the engines scream past—this was next level.

Halfway through the race, Charles was in a tight battle for first. Jeno couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. Even when a Ferrari engineer handed him a headset so he could hear the team radio, he barely registered it.

“Box, box,” Charles’s engineer said through the radio.

Jeno turned to you. “Why does that sound serious?”

You bit your lip. “It means he’s pitting. But the stop has to be perfect.”

Seconds later, Charles’s car screeched into the pit lane. Jeno held his breath. Within 2.4 seconds, the tires were changed, and Charles was back on track.

Jeno exhaled. “That was insane.”

You squeezed his hand. “Welcome to my world.”

Charles finished second on the podium, and while he didn’t win, he was in good spirits. Back in the paddock, he found Jeno and patted him on the back.

“You didn’t jinx me. Maybe you’re good luck.”

Jeno grinned. “I’ll take the credit.”

Charles hesitated before adding, “You know, I was skeptical at first. But I can see how much you care about my sister.”

Jeno’s smile softened. “She means everything to me.”

Charles studied him for a moment before nodding. “Then you’re okay in my book.”

You wrapped your arms around Jeno from behind, grinning. “Told you they’d get along.”

Jeno turned to kiss your forehead. “Best day ever.”

Charles smirked. “Don’t get too comfortable. Next time, we’re putting you in a simulator.”

Jeno gulped. “Uh-oh.”

You laughed. “Guess we’ll see if my boyfriend can really handle F1.”

Jeno still couldn’t believe he had spent the day inside the Ferrari garage, experiencing the race from the best seat in the house. But now, the real test was about to begin—spending the evening with Charles outside of F1, where the driver could shift his focus entirely on him.

You had planned a small celebration for Charles’s podium finish, inviting a few friends and team members to a private villa overlooking the Monaco coastline. The golden hues of sunset painted the sky as music played softly in the background.

Jeno adjusted his shirt nervously, watching Charles pour himself a drink at the bar. You nudged him with a teasing smile.

"Why do you look like you're about to meet my dad for the first time?"

Jeno sighed. "Because your brother is basically F1 royalty, and I just know he's going to grill me about something."

You laughed. "Relax. He wouldn’t have let you sit with the team if he didn’t already like you a little."

Jeno still wasn’t convinced, but before he could respond, Charles called out to him.

"Jeno, come here!"

He shot you a look that clearly said help me, but you just gave him a playful push.

Charles leaned against the counter, a knowing smirk on his face. He handed Jeno a glass—non-alcoholic, since he knew Jeno wasn’t much of a drinker during promotions and performances.

"So," Charles started, "you survived your first F1 weekend in the garage."

"Barely," Jeno chuckled, taking a sip. "I think my heart stopped a few times when you were overtaking."

Charles grinned. "That’s how it feels to watch someone you care about in their element, right?"

Jeno nodded. "Yeah. I get that feeling when I see her in the audience at my concerts."

Charles’s smirk faltered slightly, and Jeno could tell he was about to get serious.

"Look, I’ll be honest," Charles said, setting his glass down. "When my sister told me she was dating an idol, I wasn’t sure what to think. Your schedule is crazy, your life is always in the spotlight… and she deserves someone who will be there for her."

Jeno swallowed. "I know. And I won’t lie, it’s not always easy. But I love her, Charles. And no matter where I am in the world, she’s always my priority."

Charles studied him for a moment before nodding. "I can see that. She’s happier with you."

Jeno exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath.

"But," Charles continued, "if you ever hurt her accidentally, intentionally, emotionally, or otherwise I will personally make sure you feel what it’s like to be at the back of the grid."

Jeno laughed, but the warning in Charles’s eyes was real. "Got it. No DNF for me in this relationship."

Charles cracked a smile. "Good answer."

You walked over, slipping your hand into Jeno’s. "So, how’s it going? Are we planning a family race or something?"

Jeno smiled, squeezing your hand. "Not yet, but I think I just passed his test."

Charles rolled his eyes. "Barely."

You shook your head. "You’re both impossible."

Jeno turned to Charles. "You know, I meant it when I said I might want to try the simulator one day."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "You think you can handle it?"

Jeno grinned. "If I can handle being on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans, I think I can handle a race car simulation."

Charles smirked. "Alright then. Tomorrow morning, 10 AM. My place. Let’s see if you’re more than just a fanboy."

Jeno blinked. "Wait, I was kind of joking... "

You laughed. "Too late, babe. You’re in now."

Charles clapped Jeno on the back. "Welcome to the fast lane, Jeno."

Jeno groaned, but he couldn’t help smiling.

Maybe this whole ‘brother in law bonding’ thing wasn’t so bad after all.

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cuteandhughesy · 2 days ago

Note

3. “we really shouldn’t” “so?” with anthony stolarz

he def seems like the type of guy who’d be ur brothers teammate and you’d sleep with him behind ur brothers back 😶

prompt no.3: “we really shouldn’t.” “so?”

your brother mitch has always been protective. you’re his younger sister, two years younger than him, and have always been super kind and naive. from a young age, he saw the way people took advantage of you and felt that it was his responsibility to keep you safe.

when you got a bit older and started dating, mitch’s protectiveness got worse. no boy was good enough, even when they were. mitch would drive boys away with menacing looks and what he called ‘stern talkings’ which are also known as threats.

eventually when you convinced your brother to chill the fuck out a little bit and let you work things out on your own, he surprisingly agreed.

under one circumstance.

you can’t date his friends, and you certainly can’t date his teammates. ever.

and you could live with that. most of mitch’s friends where your friends, and you didn’t see them that way. and when mitch started getting more serious about hockey, he barley went out or had his teammates come over, so you never even met them. steph would ask all the time if you wanted to come to games, but you weren’t really interested.

“maybe you’ll find a guy,” she used to tease, winking at you discreetly in the dim light of the living room.

you always responded the same way, “im not into hockey players.”

when mitch made it to the nhl, you started going to games more often. you got to drink beers that mitch was paying for, and chat with steph about school and boys without the prying ears of your brother and your family.

as the years passed, mitch never strayed from his dating rule or protectiveness over you.

you never planned on rebuking mitch’s dating rule until anthony stolarz waltzed into toronto with a summer tan and a perfect smile. he’s older than you, mature but doesn’t take himself too seriously. anthony introduced himself to you with a playful and intriguing gleam, and it instantly has you feeling things.

and your sister-in-law knows it too, because anytime mitch brings up anthony or the net minder is in the same room as you, she’s wiggling her brows at you and grinning. you hate her.

and it’s fine, you think. it’s just a stupid crush on a new, older man. you’ll get over it. it’s not reciprocated.

expect it’s totally reciprocated, and after too many glasses of wine and a private bathroom at some bar after a win, you and anthony begin hook up. and it doesn’t just end there. you have sex often, and kiss and go on dates even more frequently.

you find yourself in a secret relationship, and at the same time, betraying your older brother. slowly it becomes harder to keep a secret, and the people in your life start noticing.

it starts with steph who just knows you too well. she straight up just asks you, and you blurt it out like you physically can’t hold it in any longer. steph smirked and said, ‘I fucking knew it.’

next came auston matthews, one of mitch’s closest friends and teammates, walks in on your and anthony making out like teenagers in a guest bathroom. to be fair, you didn’t look the door. and it was also auston’s house. you rushed out after the goal scorer, lips glistening and eyes frantic, begging him not to say anything.

auston just laughed and said, ‘don’t worry kid, your secret is safe with me.’

your parents knew, and your closest friends knew (mostly leaf wags who you sworn to secrecy). it started to feel more real, and you certainly got more comfortable.

so yeah you may of had four too many beers at the game. and yeah, when you see your boyfriend walking out of the leafs dressing room, looking divine after a win, you just want to normal and go up to your boyfriend.

it wasn’t uncommon for you to wait in the tunnels with steph for mitch after games, especially when you’ve all driven to the rink together. anthony would always smile at you, a little too sexy for trying to be discrete, but you never pushed those boundaries. not when mitch could walk out.

but once again, you’re well passed tipsy and you just want to live up on your man like all the other wags get to. before you can think about it, you’re walking up to anthony, heels clicking on the floor as you make your way through the crowd.

anthony’s talking to morgan, completely unaware of the way your striding towards him until you’re right in front of him. you wrap your hand around his bicep, blinking up at him with a glossed over expression.

“hi,” you beam, glossy lips tempting.

anthony swallows, eyes squinting in amusement. he shoots a glance at morgan, who is just stifling laughter like he knows—god damn it tessa. “hi,” he parrots.

“missed you,” you whine, pushing up onto the toe of your heeled boots and pucker your lips, “can I have a kiss?”

anthony laughs, rubbing the back of his neck and subtly scanning the room—checking if anyone was watching. morgan has slipped away now, and there’s only a few lingering people left in the tunnel. he sees steph, eyeing you both sneakily. which means mitch is still here.

“we really shouldn’t.” he mumbles. despite his words, anthony lets his hand wrap around your waist, keeping you against his chest to steady your drink sway. he licks along his bottom lip, “your brother could catch us.”

“so?” you huff, pushing even further up his body. “just a quick kiss.” you say. you’re too happy on wine and in love to think about your brothers stupid rule right now. you couldn’t care less about anything besides your gigantic boyfriend—who is grinning down at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

and you are. more than the nhl. more than the stanley cup. more than breathing.

quickly, anthony leans down, free hand enclosing on the side of your face as he tilts your head up, connecting your lips together.

the kiss doesn’t last nearly as long as you need it to, and you whine when anthony pulls off of you. you’re not caught, thankfully, and that only makes you want to kiss him over and over again.

“i’ll see you later, kay?” anthony whispers softly, talking his hand off your hips.

you nod, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and dropping back down to your heels. “love you.”

“love you too.”

—

(unedited)

#🍾 ⊹˚₊ 1000 celly #❣️answered #anthony stolarz blurb #anthony stolarz imagine #anthony stolarz smut #nhl blurb #nhl smut #hockey blurb #hockey smut

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citricacidprince · 2 days ago

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I was looking at your relativity falls au and I was thinking since Ford in the original series takes off Stan’s hat to show his hair, kinda revealing he is Ford, what if in relativity falls Ford takes the glasses off of Stan and puts them on and that is kinda of the moment

Also I really want more protective! Relativity falls Ford, I want to watch that child go feral and start biting people <3

Hiiiii!!! Sorry it took a super long time to reply to this I just,, this possessed me so much I may or may not have written, uh, 7400 words based on this lol (also a drawing but it’s hidden in the writing haha)

There sadly isn’t a lot of feral protective Ford in this, just sad wet cat baby Ford (tho you get a glimpse of it at the very end), but believe me I have many thoughts of protective Ford as they’re teens hehe!!

Like, they’re so fun to be because they’re the opposite of how they are in the show! Stan was the protector and would get into fights for Ford, but as teens Ford is extremely protective of Stan and will throw himself into a fight he know he can’t win in a moments notice because they insulted Stan, even when Stan tries to insist that it’s okay. These two make me siiiiick 💥💥💥💥💥

Anywho, this mini writing this is just a prolonged scene from Weirdmageddon part 3 but with my Relativity Falls AU paint on it lol

It’s filled with an comical amount of tears because I believe Mabel and Dipper are weepy saps and the baby boys haven’t had the ‘Boys don’t cry’ motto drilled into their heads yet, also they’re like, super traumatized atm haha

Well, have fun reading! Please please please please be nice, I know I’m not the best writer and just write when I’m possessed so please be so niceies to me or I’ll fucking cry <33💥💥💥💥

Everything is under the cut! :]

🍃🪦☁️~~~~~~~~~~~~⛈️👓🥀

Mabel and Dipper could only watch on in shock and horror as one of their beloved great nephew erased the mind of their other beloved great nephew. Dipper didn’t even know the boys still had that blasted machine, much less that they still had it on them here of all places!

Maybe it was good that the children had the memory gun hidden away. After all, they just used it to outwit and defeat Cipher.

However… at what cost?

Stanley’s round face was drenched in silent tears as he held the memory gun to the back of his brother’s head, his gaze completely focused but his trembling grip on the memory gun giving away just how much this was affecting him.

Dipper always thought he’d be ecstatic when Bill Cipher was finally defeated. Spit on his face, dance on his grave, give the worst eulogy in the world, the whole shebang. But now that the moment has finally arrived all he can feel is sick to his stomach.

They’re just kids. They shouldn’t be here. His sweet little grand-nephews shouldn’t be paying for his hubris. This should’ve stayed between him and Bill.

It should have been him.

The bright blue light faded and the memory gun hit the ground, Stanley’s hands shaking even worse now as tears fell to the floor, unable to keep his head up as little hiccups fell from his lips.

Dipper was still squeezing Mabel close to his side, the two frozen in their huddled positions on the floor, gut-wrenching guilt on his face while his sister had her hands over his mouth, only able to watch on with dread.

Dipper only faintly registered that the other members of the zodiac had been released from their tapestry prisons. That blonde woman Mabel seemed to like was rubbing her head as that young Hispanic woman who works for Mabel, Anjelita, held out a hand to help her up. That red-headed hairy lumberjack and that one oddly peppy goth teen helped young Fiddleford through his shaky breathing.

After a couple of moments Dipper heard his sister take a deep shaky breath, his voice wet as one of her hands reached out towards Stanley.

“…L-Lee? Lee, baby come here-” There was a weary and wobbly smile on her lips. She was doing that thing where she tries to be the comforting light in an awful situation, even though she is not doing any better than anyone else at the moment.

She was trying to corral her crying great-nephew into her arms, a mixture of trying to comfort him and herself.

She was swiftly cut off by gravity going wonky.

Dark bricks ripped out of the walls and shot up into the rift up in the blood red sky, Weirdmaggedon falling apart at the seams. Creatures of many shapes and sizes flew up into the rift, the older twins gripping each other close as they stared up into the multicolored light. Everyone was staring up into the sky, hope and relief in their hearts that the nightmare might finally be over.

Everyone but Stanley.

He was intensely staring at the back of his brother’s head, silent tears continuously streaming down his cheeks, unable to see the small content smile on Stanford’s face.

As the light began to envelop the town of Gravity Falls, Stanley reached out his hand to his kneeling brother to try and grab onto him but was unable to before the light reached the two, erasing most traces of Weirdmaggedon’s effects and safely displacing everyone in the Fearamid to the ground below.

The woods were quiet. Everything was much quieter than it was during Weirdmageddon.

There was barely a moment of peace before Dipper and Mabel were sprinting through the woods yelling out for their great-nephews, panic increasing with every passing second.

They finally came across the boys in a small clearing after 2 minutes of franticness. Stanley’s back to the older set of twins and Stanford kneeling in the grass.

Mabel ran much faster than Dipper did, practically throwing herself to her knees as she grabbed Stanley and pulled him tight into her arms. She buried him into the crook of her neck, tears beginning to drip down her face as she ran her fingers through his messy brown curls, trying to soothe him while she gently shushed his crying.

“Shhhh… shhh it’s okay Lee it’s okay sweepea, I’m here, Grunkle Mabel is here pumpkin.”

Dipper would’ve chuckled at the use of ‘Grunkle Mabel’, something Stanley insisted on calling her even after she revealed that she wasn’t a man because he thought Grauntie sounded strange, but he couldn’t really feel anything but heart ache right now. He stepped closer to the crying duo, kneeling down next to them as he glanced over towards Stanford.

He still seemed to be unconscious, quiet as a mouse as he kneeled on the grass. He was so still that Dipper almost wanted to check his pulse to make sure his heart was still beating, but the soft breathing coming from his chest eased his worries. Stanford was always so stressed and on edge the entire time Dipper had known him, which in all honesty, wasn't very long. However, in this moment with that small smile on his lips his nephew almost looked peaceful.

Guilt ate at his heart even more.

God he should’ve seen the warning signs that tension was building between the two boys. He’s the catalyst for causing Weirdmageddon by saying he would train Stanford in Gravity Falls while Stanley went home. He should’ve put his foot down and said Stanford was too young and needed to go home at the end of the summer with his brother. But his great nephew was just so insistent and Dipper himself was scrambling to think of an amazing gift for his twin sister for their first birthday together in 30 years, he just caved and said yes.

He’s the reason Stanley ran with that cracked rift. He was the final crack in the already strained relationship between the boys and he was too blind to notice.

He turned to his sister once more, emotions welling in his heart seeing his sister and nephew so upset and clinging to each other. He gingerly rubbed Stanley’s back and Mabel’s shoulder, softly speaking with sorrow dripping from his voice, “Stanley, I am so sorry… words can’t express how much I didn’t want this to happen. You shouldn’t have had to deal with the consequences of my mistakes..” He gingerly tucked a loose curl behind Stanley’s ear, softly adding on with a feeling of shame flooding his head, “…It should’ve been me.”

Mabel’s head immediately shot up at Dipper’s words, a glare on her wet face as she shot back with a low warning tone, “Dipper Lee Pines.” He quickly shut his mouth. Noted, she wasn’t going to take any self depreciation coming from him at the moment. Can’t say he blames her, he would’ve done the same if any self-depreciating words came from her mouth.

Stanley muffled something against Mabel’s neck instantly making the two stop what they were doing to turn to him. “What was that baby?” Mabel gently asked as Dipper continued to rub his back. The young boy pulled himself away from Mabel’s neck ever so slightly, taking in a deep shaky breath as he shakily repeated himself.

“…n-not Lee-”

The older twins' brows furrow, their hands stilling slightly as it was Dipper’s turn to softly question, “What are you talking about Stanley?”

The brunet pulls his trembling form away from Mabel to stand up, wiping his wet face with his arm, his cheeks so flushed from sobbing that his faint freckles were easily seen against the red. He stood still for a moment, trying to calm his breathing before he stepped between the sitting pair of twins and towards his kneeling brother.

He took in the sight of him for a moment, a sick feeling in his stomach as his trembling hands tentatively grab onto the glasses on his unconscious brother’s face, his touch light as a feather and careful, as if he was afraid his brother would shatter if his finger even as so much grazed him. He carefully pulled the glasses off and stared down at them in his hands, a fresh wave of silent tears falling from his cheeks and onto the cracked glass lenses.

“I-I’m… I’m n-not…” He shakily whispers, voice caught in his throat as he tries to get the words out. He gingerly lifted the glasses to his face and placed them onto his red nose, his fingers gripping the temples of the glasses as he hesitantly turned around. His wet brown eyes locked with his kneeling great-uncle and great-aunt, the kid’s gaze drowning in guilt as Stanford hesitantly continued on with his wobbling voice, “…I-I’m not S-Stanley.”

The two froze at those words, Mabel's bewildered gaze kept whipping her gaze between Stanford and Stanley, quickly growing distressed while Dipper felt a deep pit form in his stomach.

He’s so stupid, it should’ve been obvious but in all the chaos he didn’t even think to check. In the moment of peace he finally saw the differences.

The six fingers and the way his eyes squinted without his glasses should’ve been a dead giveaway, but there were also other signs as well.

Stanley had told Dipper not too long ago that his tooth was knocked out the second day the twins showed up. Apparently it was knocked loose when he fell face first into the dirt while fleeing with Stanford from a vampire, after his brother had hid the 3rd journal away from Stanley all day, taking ‘Trust No One’ Dipper had scrambled onto that in a paranoid panic to heart.

Stanford just lost his tooth not even 30 minutes ago. When the boys had begun to argue on the Zodiac Wheel Stanley couldn’t take it anymore and decked Stanford to the ground. Dipper remembers the immediate regret that flashed onto the young boy’s face when his brother spat out a bloody tooth onto the floor, opening his mouth to try and apologize but was unable to get a word out before Stanford quickly punched him back, causing the infamous fight between the two.

Stanford still had some speckles of dried blood on his chin, a reminder of that awful fight.

The two had faint freckles dusting their face but Stanley was the only one who had freckles on his shoulders.

The bandaid on Stanford’s face was falling off, as if it was peeled off and slapped onto his face.

Mabel let out a weak and breathless noise of confusion, brows furrowed and clearly overwhelmed by everything happening in such a short time. “W-Wha-? How-?”

Dipper cut his sister off. She was barely keeping it together as is, and while he was also extremely upset he had a lot of practice suppressing these kinds of emotions to survive in the multiverse. He can take over for a moment just so Mabel can take a moment to breathe.

“Stanford… what happened?” Dipper questioned, a comforting hand on his twin’s shoulder as his furrowed gaze met Stanley’s. Despite how intense he looked, there was a softness in his voice. A quiet plea for his great-nephew to tell him what the hell is going on.

Stanford’s watery eyes stayed locked with the ground, looking almost as overwhelmed and weary as Mabel did while his hands fidgeted against his stomach. “W-When you two started getting c-chased Bill I…” His breathing hitched. “…I didn’t know what to d-do, I was just so s-scared.”

One of his finger’s lifted to his lip as he unconsciously began to chew the skin off the side of it, a habit Mabel has been fighting tooth and nail for Ford to quit through the entire Summer.

Not that she can really bring herself to care at the moment.

Stanford looked increasingly distressed as he continued. “I-I was panicking, I always know w-what to do and I just I couldn’t t-think of anything! I thought my h-head was going to explode when-” He takes in a sharp breath, more tears beginning to well up in his eyes. “…w-when Stanley said he had a plan.”

Stanford was trying to wipe away the thick tears off his face, his cheeks irritated and red from how often he's been rubbing away tears. “E-Everything went so fast. He was explaining the p-plan as fast as he could while we swapped clothes. Said we were going to p-pull off our best con yet. Tricking Bill into S-Stan’s mind by convincing him it was m-mine and then erasing him for g-good.”

“I t-tried to ask why we were d-doing all of this… Stanley could've just erased my mind after I let B-Bill in and e-everything would just end, but Stanley… S-Stanley didn’t budge. He s-said it had to be him. Said I… S-Said I actually had a future.” Ford breathing hiccups, shoulders hiking up to his neck as even more even more tears run down his cheeks and to the grass below. “A-A-And I was j-just so scared I… I let him… I let h-him take my place…”

A choked sob rips from his throat, unable to take it anymore as he covers his face with his polydactyl hands, continuing to explain through the tears and shaky speech. “O-One of the last things I ever d-did was punch h-him in the face! I never t-told him I was s-sorry! He DIED thinking I h-hated him!”

Dipper immediately jumped into action, pushing himself over to Ford and pulling his hands away from his face. He rested his forehead against his great-nephew’s and held onto his smaller hands, keeping his eyes on Stanford’s as he firmly spoke. “Breathe with me Stanford. In and out.”

It took a moment but the kid’s breathing slowed ever so slightly as he tried to mimic Dipper’s breaths though he was still unable to control the hiccuping and sniffling.

“You didn’t kill Stanley.” Dipper continued to speak, his tone softening considerably as he gently squeezed Ford’s polydactyl hand with his larger one. “He’s alive and breathing right behind you.”

The kid began to look frustrated as he lowly choked out, “He might as well be.”

Dipper… couldn’t exactly retort that. By all means Stanley would be a shell of his former self, fundamentally a completely different person when he wakes up. However, he wasn’t going to let his great-nephew wallow like this. He gently squeezed his hands once more and softly questioned, “…Do you really think Stanley would hate you after all of this?”

Stanford froze at the question, only the sound of rustling leaves and birds chirping to be heard as the brunet boy’s eyes stayed locked with Dipper’s before letting it fall to the dirt below. After a couple quiet moments Stanford finally mumbled out. “He should.”

“But would he?”

“….” Ford couldn’t reply, a bittersweet and melancholic feeling flooding his heart.

As if on cue, a faint noise was suddenly made behind the three of them.

Everyone whirled their heads over to where Stanley sat kneeling on the grass. His brown eyes blearily began to open as he raised his hand up to idly rub them. The faint freckles on his cheeks and his brown curls were dusted in the warm light of the sun. A yawn fell from his lips, tiny tears pricking the corners of his eyes from the deep breath, before he finally opened his eyes completely.

His brown eyes blinked away sleep, his gaze slowly darting between the three people also kneeling on the grass in front of him, not saying a word yet, just taking them in.

Dipper and Ford waited with baited breath, words stuck in their throats as they stared back at Stan, trying to find any familiarity in his eyes.

Mabel couldn’t wait a single second longer.

“…S-Stanley? Lee?” She softly questioned, tears beginning to well up in her eyes again as she gingerly crawled closer to him. “H-Hey my little firecracker! You r-remember me right? Your lovable Grunkle Mabel!” Her hands raise up to cup Stanley’s round cheeks, her smile a little wobbly but her brown eyes filled with a ray of hope. “You remember me, d-don’t you pumpkin?”

Stanley just stared blankly at his great-aunt, completely silent for a moment before his brows furrow. He tilts his head, confusion clearly seen in his blank eyes as he bluntly asks, “Who are you?”

Mabel’s heart might as well have shattered into a million pieces. The tears welling up in her eyes freely fall but the wobbly smile refuses to fall. One hand raises to run through his messy curls as the other continues to cup his face. “W-What are you talking about sweetheart? It’s me, Stanley, It’s Mabel.”

Dipper sprung forward and gently began to pull Mabel away from Stanley, that pit in his stomach growing even more as his sister tried to weakly yank herself out of his grasp while crying out, “It’s me, Stanley! It’s me!” He squeezed her in his arms as her cries turned to sobs, burying her face against Dipper’s chest as she finally let out all the pain she’s been keeping in her chest since the moment Weirdmageddon had begun.

“It’s no use Mabel, Stanley doesn’t remember anything.” Dipper softly spoke. He hugged her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head, her silver curls brushing against his skin as his brown eyes locked with Stanley. The kid looked so confused and lost, a sight that just made his heart ache even more. “…Stanley doesn’t even realize it, but he just saved the world… Saved us… Our little hero…”

Stanley brows were furrowed, not understanding anything that was going on in the slightest. He glanced over at where Stanford was standing, lifting up his hand to cup his mouth and loudly stage whisper to the brunet, “What’s up with the old guys?”

Stanford didn’t answer, just staring at Stanley with large globs of tears dripping down his cheeks. Without warning he sprinted to his brother, engulfing Stanley in a tight hug and hiding his face in his neck. The impact of the tackle hug almost knocked the two to the floor but Stanley managed to keep himself propped up with one arm, brown eyes wide with shock as even more confusion filled his fuzzy mind. “W-Woah, okay-! We’re hugging now, I guess!”

“I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry-” Stanford kept repeating those words over and over against his brother’s neck, his body trembling from just how hard he was crying.

Stanley had no clue what the hell was happening. He was in a place he’s never seen before, surrounded by strangers sobbing their eyes out, and he was realizing that he couldn’t really remember what his name was again. A part of him was telling him he should just book it, get away from these weirdos, but something in him refused to let him.

Maybe it was because they all genuinely looked so sad. He didn’t know who they were but his heart sorta ached at their grief-stricken appearances, kind of wanting to comfort them in some way.

Maybe he’s a bleeding heart, he can’t really remember if he is.

Stanley shuffled a little in Stanford’s tight grasp until finally something kinda heavy was laid onto the sobbing child’s shoulders. Stanford tentatively lifted his wet face from his brother’s neck to peer behind him.

It was his leather bomber jacket. Stanley had subtlety slipped off the jacket, careful not to jostle the crying kid too much, then plopped it onto his shoulders.

“You looked like you needed it more than me.” Stanley spoke, an awkward but kind smile on his face. He then quickly shrugged it off and added on with a casual tone, “Besides, I was gettin’ warm in that thing, you can just keep it.”

Stanford sharply inhaled at those words, polydactyl hands letting go of Stanley to grip at the jacket draped over his shoulders and pull it even closer, acting as if it was a barrier that could protect him from the world around him. A choking sob ripped from Stanford’s throat, hiding his face against his brother’s neck once again.

“Okay! We’re still crying!” Stanley awkwardly sputtered out, tensing up as the brunet continued to cry against his neck, unsure of what he should be doing. Eventually he settled on tentatively patting the crying kid’s back, hoping that he was actually comforting the kid and not making whatever was happening worse.

“I s-shouldn’t have pushed you a-away because I was t-told to! You w-were never a burden! I-I don’t hate you! I n-never did!” Stanford kept crying apologizes against Stanley’s shoulder, making the already confused brunet boy even more lost with every word spoken. His hand continued to pat on Ford’s back as he softly replied, his words tentative and unsure, “…I don’t hate you either.”

“Yes you do.” Stanford thickly replied against his brother's shoulder, completely and utterly convinced in his distraught state that his brother would absolutely hate him if he could remember what Ford did to him.

Stanley couldn’t exactly reply to that because he genuinely didn’t know if he did hate this kid. He didn’t even know who he was. So instead of responding he just continued to rub the brunet’s back, hoping to ease the hyperventilation sobs buried against his skin.

It took a handful of long moments filled with silence and tears for the three to compose themselves, Dipper being the first to finally stand up.

“…We’ve been wallowing here long enough, people are going to get worried.”

Dipper gingerly pulls Mabel to her feet, tears had stopped falling from her face but her cheeks red and her famous smile no longer present. He made sure his sister was steady on her feet before holding out his hand to the twin boys huddled together on the ground, a small weary smile on his wrinkled face.

“Come on… let’s go home.”

The twins pull themselves up with Dipper’s help. Once on their feet Ford latches onto Stan’s arm, sticking to his side and refusing to let go. Stanley doesn’t seem to mind or even notice the clinging presence as his brown eyes look up at the sky and over the tall trees with curious wonder.

Dipper softly sighed and eyed over the fascinated brunet looking over the tree line with concern, “Are your muscles alright, Stanley? No issues with walking or standing?”

The kid didn’t respond for a moment, still looking around before he finally registered that he was being spoken to. His brown eyes darted around before he pointed at himself with his free hand. “Oh! Am I Stanley?”

Dipper felt a stab in his chest at the question, but still gently replied, “Yeah… you’re Stanley.”

Stanley nodded at the confirmation and softly said ‘Staaaanley’ under his breath, getting accustomed to the unfamiliar name.

“Stanley… cool name! I like it!” He cheerfully replied, a wide smile spreading across his face that showed off his missing tooth. “And my legs are fine, I think.” He used his free hand to grab onto Dipper’s hand and loudly added on, “Now lead the way, old man!”

Dipper sighed and squeezed onto Stanley’s hand, gently guiding him through the woods back to the Shack, never forgetting the route home even after all these years.

The twins were parallels of each other as they walked. Mabel was clinging onto her brother’s arm and leaning her head against his shoulder while Stanford was doing the same with his brother. The air was so tense and gloomy around the four, affecting all but Stanley.

Stanley was looking around the woods as they walked, his brown eyes full of innocent wonder as he mumbled under his breath about ‘Never seeing trees this big’.

When they made it back to the Shack Dipper could only wince at the state it was in. It was falling apart and damaged from the battle during Weirdmageddon, the damage unable to be reversed even after the apocalypse had ended.

“The Shack…” Mabel sadly lamented under her breath, the sight of the place she spent 30 years making into a home and business just adding onto her already overwhelming amount of sadness.

Dipper was about to try and comfort her when he noticed 3 figures standing in front of the shack. After a moment the three started to sprint towards the family, frames becoming clearer as they got closer.

It was Anjelita, Boyish Dan, and Fiddleford.

“Are you guys alright?!” Boyish Dan loudly asked with his booming voice before he even reached the family. Anjelita was silently but swiftly following behind him, her hand gripping her Abuelo’s cap so it wouldn't fly off her head and her eyes filled with concern. Fiddleford was tripping over his feet from how fast he was sprinting, Dipper was mildly concerned the accident prone teen was going to trip over a branch or rock and slam face first against the ground.

He didn’t trip, thankfully. The small blond teen stumbled to a stop in front of the family, specifically the younger set of twins, panting heavily. “Thank the lord y’all are alright! I thought y'all had gotten trapped under somethin’ or hurt or worse!” Fiddleford anxiously rambled on, clearly having thrown himself into a tizzy over his friend's safety.

Stanley’s brows furrowed at the new faces, especially the long nosed southern one right in front of him. He raised an eyebrow and looked over the blond with an untrusting gaze. “…You’re not going to hug me and cry too, are you?”

Fiddleford looked bewildered at the question, blinking in confusion as he asked, “Now why on’ earth would I do that?”

Before Stanley or someone else in the family could reply, Anjelita spoke up from beside Boyish Dan. “His memory was erased, correct?”

The family, minus Stanley, flinched at the question.

Anjelita was a very observant young lady, so it makes sense she would be the first to notice.

Fiddleford and Boyish Dan kinda tensed up at the question. They also saw what happened while they were trapped in the tapestries, but they had hoped that maybe…

“That really stuck? He doesn’t remember anything?” Boyish Dan questioned.

“Nothin’ at all?” Fiddleford softly added.

Dipper wordless shook his head and a solemn silence covered them all.

The three followed the family into the dilapidated Mystery Shack, everyone looking over the cracks and debris with melancholy and sadness on their faces. Well, all but Stanley.

Stanley excitedly jumped up as they all entered the run down living room. “Wow, nice place you have here!” The brunet ripped away from Stanford and Dipper’s grasp, the suddenness making Stanford weakly try and latch back onto his brother for just a moment before giving up and wrapping his arms around his stomach. The boy then ran full speed at the dusty recliner. Stan always loved that chair would steal it from Mabel whenever he had a chance.

He jumped onto the seat and laughed as he bounced a little before settling down. “Lovin’ this chair! I just sink into this thing!”

He opened his brown eyes and saw everyone standing at the edges of the room, the miserable air of sadness weighing so heavy on the room he could feel it pressing against his skull. Stanley limply leaned back in the chair, a faint look of annoyance on his face as he bluntly questioned, “Geez, am I at a funeral? Who died and turned you all into sad sacks.”

No one answered.

Fiddleford turned to the group, going to lift his finger to bite on it only to stop himself when he realized he was doing it. Instead the blond lifted up his chewlery necklace and began to bite on it instead, his nerves shot as he desperately asked, “Surely there must be ah’ way to reverse this!”

“No, there isn’t.” Stanford replied, not even bothering to look up from the floor, looking extremely tired and downright miserable as he hugged his jacket closer.

Fiddleford whips around to Stanford, exasperation and agitation clear on his face as he yells back, “There's gotta’ be!”

Dipper softly sighed, defeat dripping from his voice as he gently replied. “I’m sorry, Fiddleford. There isn’t anything we can do for Stanley. No one can come back from something like this.”

Anjelita perks up from the besides Boyish Dan, counteracting Dipper’s statement with a simple, “Miss Candy.”

“W-What?” Dipper questioned, blinking up at her in confusion.

The large red-headed teen jolted and jumped up at the reminder.

“That’s right! Kooky Candy got her memories back during that whole weird secret society adventure!”

Fiddleford looked up at Dipper with hope and desperation in his green eyes, hands trembling from the reminder of that awful day and his shot nerves. “Y-Yeah! An’ Miss Candy’s mind was cracked ‘cause of tha’ memory gun!”

The blond points to Stanley sitting on the recliner, the confused brunet just staring at the group with furrowed brows, not taking in anything that they’re saying. “Lee still gotta’ chance!”

Dipper is quiet for a moment, brain running a mile a minute. When he finally speaks up again his voice is low and unsure.

“… I’m not going to say it's going to work,”

His eyes meet his sister’s, her sad brown eyes filled with a glimmer of hope at the thought of being able to save her little firecracker.

“But I’m not going to say it’s impossible either.”

He racked his brain once more, trying to think of a solution, an answer that has a high probability of working.

“…Maybe if we had something that could jog his memory-”

Mabel suddenly gasped, eyes wide as she squeezes Dipper’s arm, her grip tight. “My scrapbook!”

She then quickly rushes to a desk near the table, glitter and shimmering pieces of paper fluttering out as her hands rummaged in one of the drawers. She let out a loud ‘Aha!’ And pulled out a pink and very sparkly scrapbook.

“It’s not going to work.” Stanford bluntly mumbled, defeat and sorrow clinging to his small frames.

“Not with that attitude!” The old woman quickly shoots back, not letting anything snuff out her freshly burning glimmer of hope in her chest.

She quickly ran back over to Stanley, the rest of the group, minus Stanford, following suit. She placed the glimmering book onto the confused child’s lap, the front labeled ‘Summer of 2012’ in sparkly glitter pen.

“I’ve been working on this book since the day you two arrived!” Mabel offhandedly explained while opening it to the first page. Pasted in the middle of that page was a cute photo of Stanley and Stanford unpacking their bags. Stan was making a silly face at the camera while Ford had not realized the photo was being taken, too busy hanging up his Nikola Tesla poster with a concentrated face. Stickers and other miscellaneous crafting objects were glued to the page. “Here’s the first day you two arrived!” She then pointed at about 4 to 6 small pieces of wood taped to the page. “And those are the splinters you got stuck in your hand when trying to unpack!”

Stanley furrowed his brow at that, very confused on why she would keep something like that but not having a chance to ask before she pointed to the next thing.

The next photo on the page was Stanford and Stanley looking a tiny bit scratched up and tired. Ford was looking away from the camera and into the inner pocket of his jacket, excitement shining in his eyes as he stared at the journal he had found in the woods that day that was poking out of his jacket ever so slightly. Stanley was also excited but for a very different reason. His eyes were wide with excitement, his equally wide smile showing off the space in his teeth where his tooth was knocked out. The missing tooth was being held very close to the camera, still covered in small flecks of blood.

“And here’s you losing your tooth the very next day!”

Next to the photo was also a small tooth taped onto the paper, assumedly Stanley’s baby tooth that was knocked out. He especially wanted to ask why she had scrapbooked that but was once again cut off, no one except him finding this old woman strange in the slightest.

Fiddleford had leaned over and flipped the page. On the page was a photo of Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford all huddled together on one of the boy’s beds, all of them wearing pajamas. Stanford and Stanley seemed to both be talking at the same time, talking over each other while Fiddleford looked a little nervous and overwhelmed, but a smile very clearly seen on his face as he was squished between the twins.

“Tha’s the first time I spent tha’ night after we ‘came friends! After I, uh, ya’ know, tried to kill ya’ with a giant robit-”

Boyish Dan pointed at the next page. The twins were wearing 70s themed dancing clothes, disco lights shining on the two as they stood alone on a dance floor. The boys were covered in punch but still smiling while sideways hugging. Stanford in particular looked a little tired and had a bruise or two.

“Your guy’s 13th birthday party? A bunch of power hungry Ford clones causing so much trouble we pulled the fire alarm and set off the sprinklers?

He then pointed at two carnival tickets taped onto the page next to a photo of Boyish Dan’s grappling both of the twins under his arms and lifting them high into the air, standing in front of a carnival as the warm afternoon light washed over them. Dan was laughing maniacally while Ford looked shocked, grabbing onto Dan’s large arm looking at the ground nervously, as if he was afraid of being dropped. Stanley also looked shocked but not in the same way Stanford did. Stan’s face was bright red and he looked like he was trying to laugh off being picked up so suddenly.

“How about the carnival? You tried that ‘test your strength’ game while Ford did that ‘guess how many jellybeans are in this jar’ game and both failed at them?”

Anjelita softly spoke up next to Boyish Dan as he turned the page. A picture of Stanley all dressed up was pasted onto the page. He was wearing a black suit, a red fez with the same symbol that’s on his sweater Mabel made him, an eye patch, and an 8-Ball cane. He had his eye patch flipped up and was winking at the camera, fully showing off his showman persona. Next to that photo was another one, this time depicting Stanley and Stanford sitting in a booth with Anjelita and her grandparents. Stanley and Anjelita’s Abuelo, Soos, were scarfing down a pizza slice as fast as they could, assumedly in a race to see who could eat it faster. Stanford was looking at his brother with mild disgust and concern while Anjelita’s Abuela, Melody, was excitedly cheering on her husband. Anjelita was sitting at the table leaning her chin on her hand, a soft amused smile on her lips.

“The time you were the boss of the Mystery Shack for a day? The arcade with the killer robots?”

Dipper had his hand on Mabel’s shoulder, carefully questioning, “Is any of this ringing a bell? Anything at all?”

Everyone, minus Stanford, were crowding Stanley, all in his personal space and making the dazed child even more confused. On edge and gripping the scrapbook tightly, furrowed brown eyes completely void of familiarity as he looked over the group.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Stanley began, quickly looking down as he slammed the scrapbook closed. “But none of this is making any sense to me! You keep talking to me like I know who you are, but I don’t!”

The hope in the group died at Stanley’s outburst, all of their enthusiasm fading and disappearing entirely in record time.

“Told you.” Stanford softly mumbled from the other side of the room, despondent and hugging himself tight while leaning against the wall, utter exhaustion seeping into his bones.

Stanley shifted uncomfortably in the recliner, that bubbling sense of guilt building in his stomach and his chest once again at the sight. He doesn’t even know these people but he doesn’t want to see them upset. Guess he really is a bleeding heart. He’s learning something new about himself every second.

The brunet sighed, idly rubbing his round cheeks as he quietly added on, his voice much softer than before, “Look… I’m sorry I don’t remember… I really am…”

“It’s alright Stanley, it’s not your fault.” Dipper gently replied, unaware of the way Stanford flinched at those words behind him.

There was a depressing and strained silence hanging over the group afterwards, no one really knowing what else to say after their hopeful attempt was proven to be pointless.

Then all of a sudden hot air and a snorting noise tickled Stanley’s left ear.

The kid whirled his head at the noise only to come face to face with a big old pig with a collar around its neck, along with a name tag that Stanley couldn’t read from where he was sitting. The two just stare at each other for a couple seconds, blank stare to blank stare, until it was finally broken by the pig hopping up and getting closer to Stanley, trying to chew on his brown curls.

Stanley squealed with surprise and tried to push the massive pig away, Mabel weakly laughing on her knees at the antics, her mind flashing to all the times Waddles has lovingly bothered her great-nephew the entire time he’s been here. She was about to tell her beloved pet to stop messing with Stanley when the kid beat her to the punch.

“Augh! Waddles! How many times have I told you to stop trying to eat my hair!”

Everyone froze, even Stanford’s head whirled over at Stanley’s words.

“…What did he say?” Ford asked, his voice laced in disbelief.

Stanford initially didn’t want to think there was a chance for Stanley to remember, figuring that this was going to be his punishment. Forever mourning someone who’s not even dead, someone he all but killed. But when Stanley spoke Waddles name, something he shouldn’t remember, felt that little ball of hope he’s been trying so hard to suppress in his chest reemerge.

Now Waddles was trying to lick Stanley’s cheek, making the boy squeal even more.

“I said get Waddles off me, Sixer!”

A small breathless laugh left Dipper’s throat as ran his hands through his silver curls, a hopeful disbelief in his eyes. “…It’s working.”

Stanford suddenly sprinted up to the group, grabbing onto his Great-Aunt’s arm from where she’s kneeling in front of Stanley and holding her scrapbook. “Keep reading, Grauntie Mabel.” His gaze serious, but his voice a soft plea.

Mabel had to quickly blink a couple times and bring herself back to reality, adrenaline beginning to pump in her veins at the prospect that this was working. She jumped to her feet, not even wavering as her knees creaked at the sudden movement, and called out to everyone in the room, “Story time!”

She grabbed onto Stanley, that classic Mabel smile was back on her face as she easily lifted him up and sat down where he was sitting on the recliner, pulling the frazzled boy onto her lap. She reached out and yanked Dipper to her as well, making him sit right next to her on the recliner. It was a bit of a tight squeeze but thankfully the two twins had always been on the lankier side so they made it work.

Dipper held his hand out to Stanford, helping him up and pulling him onto his lap, paralleling his sister next to him. Stanford’s immediately pressed against Stanley’s side, polydactyl hand instinctively slipping into his and squeezing like his life depended on it.

Boyish Dan and Anjelita leaned more on the farther back sides of the recliner while Fiddleford jumped up and sat on the armrest closest to Mabel, the blond pressing himself against Stanley’s other side.

Stanley was now completely surrounded once again, being hugged and squeezed and picked up by these strangers. However this time he didn’t get annoyed or uncomfortable at the attention. Instead there was this familiar warmth in his chest, like he was always meant to be held like this. He can’t really describe what caused that shift.

Maybe these guys are right, maybe he is remembering.

Stan allows himself to relax in the arms of the older woman and against the two kids pressing against either side of him, a small smile growing on his face.

“Okay okay,” Mabel began, flipping back to the first page of the scrapbook. “It all started when I got a call from my dearest older brother asking me to watch my sweet darling great-nephews for the summer, and how could I say no to having my precious little nephews all to myself for 3 months!”

Mabel began to go over every picture and every memento in the scrapbook, everyone else pitching in and adding their own commentary or laughing every once and a while, a smile on everyone’s face.

Except for Stanford.

Stanford was looking intensely at his twin, waiting anxiously for the moment Stanley finally remembered him.

A part of him was excited, the other was dreading it.

The moment his brother remembers what happened, what Ford did to him, their bond is going to completely shatter and Stanley is going to want nothing to do with him anymore. No more late night talks, no more covering for each other, no more getting into trouble. Stanford wouldn’t be surprised if Stanley wanted to cut him out of his life completely after this after what he did. Stanford wouldn’t even blame him. He deserves it after all.

Then he saw it and his heart stopped in his chest.

Stanley rapidly blinked for a second, a familiar shine in his brown eyes as he turned to look at Stanford, recognition and understanding in his stare for the first time since the end of Weirdmageddon.

The two stared silently as Mabel continued to talk, everyone’s words muffling into background noise.

Stanford wasn’t going to beg for forgiveness. His eyes weren’t filled with sorrow or guilt. They were steady, completely prepared for anything Stanley threw at him, knowing whatever it was he deserved it.

Stanley’s eyes were filled with that familiar shine but no emotion showed on his face as his stare bore into his twin, completely silent as the two eyes stayed locked.

Then Stanley did something Stanford wasn’t expecting. His brown eyes softened, a smile on his face as he got closer and leaned his head onto Stanford’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing over his twin’s polydactyl knuckles the same way their mother would do whenever she tried to calm them down when they were much smaller.

Stanford was tense, completely frozen. He was expecting yelling, punching, blaming, or even something as simple as wordlessly pulling his hand away, but he wasn’t expecting forgiveness.

He didn't deserve this. Stanley should hate his guts. Despise him and push him away just like Stanford was doing most of the summer.

Ford’s body didn’t untense, but he did slowly rest his head on top of Stan’s, squeezing his brother's hand as if it was his life line, his thoughts swirling in his mind like a hurricane.

He didn’t deserve Stanley’s forgiveness.

Or was it pity?

It must be pity.

It has to be.

Mabel was still speaking as she leaned down and rested her chin onto Stanley, Dipper doing the same with Stanford. A warm fuzzy feeling enveloped everyone in the room. Everyone but Stanford, who instead felt a sickening feeling of guilt deep in his chest.

Stanford didn’t deserve this. This kindness.

So he swore right then and there that he was going to spend the rest of his life atoning for what he did, staying by his twin’s side to make sure nothing would never, ever, hurt his brother ever again.

Or until the day Stanley wises up and realizes that Stanford wasn’t worth his pity, that he’s too good to have a coward like him for a brother.

Whatever came first.

🌻🌱🌤️~~~~~~~~~~~~🌦️🛡️🥀

Hope you liked it!! It was fun to write when my thumbs weren’t hurting from typing on my phone for 6 hours straight lmao 💥💥💥

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imagionationstation · 2 days ago

Text

Mikey was pretty much a Donnie whisperer.

It was a badge that he wore with pride, ever since the first day that he’d managed to coax a few words out of the nervous, older teen. He went out of his way to stay out of everyone’s way, but Mikey was unbothered. He had dealt with challenges before.

Donnie was a back of the classroom kind of personality, even if his brain totally could have placed him up front.

Mikey was a middle of the classroom kinda guy. Close enough to look like he wanted to pay attention, and far enough back that the teachers didn’t immediately notice when he wasn’t. He was soo chill like that, and he liked helping others chill out too.

So when he saw the high-strung, awkward, stuttering mess of a foster kid, obviously, he had to help him out!

It had been hard, especially with his bulky twin dragging him around like he was personal property (something Mikey stopped judging him for when he learn about the time that they’d been separated for a few months, and Donnie left the home with concealed bruises and a missing tooth), but Mikey learned to manage.

Much like Raph had his ways of keeping them together, Mikey had his ways of inserting himself into their circle. He was always challenged, always with a sneer (“He bothering you, Don?” Never Donnie, always Don-) and heated glare, like he was always expecting an answer that he never got, no matter how uncomfortable his younger half seemed. (“I’m fine, Raph. Really.”)

(Mikey quickly learned that uncomfortable could sometimes translate into joy. He was uncomfortable when he rambles. He’s uncomfortable at the lunch table with Mikey’s friends. He’s was uncomfortable when Mikey first invited him to his house.)

He wasn’t uncomfortable the first time they met. It was something else. Something that stole his voice and made him hunch in on himself, looking at Mikey like he came from another planet.

Mikey didn’t let that bother him. With the sporty twin distracted on the field, Mikey swooped in with the perfect excuse (“yeah, that’s my big bro, Leo, riiiight over there”) an easy lie (“Oh, yeah, I tots come watch him practice all the time.”) and a bright smile to keep the conversation going. (It was a one-sided conversation for the first few times, but he came around eventually. Everyone does!)

Seriously, it took foreeever to start getting a good reading on the guy, but once he did, it was like finally striking a match and getting a fire so big that it burned your fingers. He was awesome.

He had sketch books filled with all kinds of crazy things and a brain big enough to actually build them. Mikey volunteered his backyard as a construction site and, within two week, they had a crazy flying assault drone. One that he immediately used to fire nerf bullets at their brothers as they walked up the driveway.

He’d tried to hand the remote back and Donnie refused.

“You can keep it.” He smiled, eyes shining with pride, “I can’t take it to the house anyway.”

It was always ‘to the house’ and never ‘home.’

It made Mikey sad, but he talked about happy things instead.

There was a lot to be happy about! Mikey introduced Donnie to everything that he knew. Carnivals, movie theaters, arcades, laser tag, and museums (Mikey loved the exhibits, Donnie gushed over the information behind them) were the tip of the iceberg. They went on hikes and had sleepovers and messed around in the dojo and played pranks that their brothers always tracked back to them. They would be uno-reversed and then the dynamic duo would have to get more creative to return the favor.

(Donnie introduced Mikey to things that he never knew too. A patient voice walking him along assignments that he can’t sit through. An attentive eye that noticed the little things that got lost in big groups- words gone unheard, downcast looks flicking by, hidden fears that come out in nervous laughter, false confidence in a bright grin that never dares to fade- and never hesitated to remind him that they mattered. He mattered. Donnie heard and saw everything, and Mikey slowly realized what it was like to be seen without trying.)

They built all kinds of fire things in the backyard- literally set it on fire once!- because Papa was afraid that they’d blow up the house. Leo tattled on them often, but Papa would take one look at Mikey’s big, guilty eyes and Donnie’s honest, sheepish smile, and they’d be off the hook. It frustrated Leo to no end, but Mikey thinks that easy forgiveness is why Raph kept coming over.

(Raph had that rebel vibe and didn’t seem to like anyone, much less his twin, but he still kept coming over, and stranger still, spending all his time with mightier-than-though Leo. He actually listens to their father, looking to him for advice, which Mikey only discovered because he came home early and found them talking in low voice.)

(Raph was relaxed and attentive. Mikey left them alone. Wonders of the universe never ceased to happen in the Hamato home.)

Mikey asked Donnie why he was so mean all the time. Donnie stood up, dirt on his pants and a black smear on his cheek, thinking deeply about a simple question, “Adults don’t care about you when you’re nice. Being mean is the only reason we stay together.”

Mikey catches the paintbrush as it falls off his nose. Some of the paint splatters on his shirt. “You’re not mean.”

“I can do stuff.” Donnie shrugs as he digs in the borrowed tool box. “People notice that too.”

“But you said that his temper gets you guys in trouble.”

“I’m okay with being in trouble.” Donnie turns around, desired tool procured. “As long as he’s there.”

“But I didn’t know you could do stuff.” Mikey presses. (He’s plenty nice and that’s why people notice him. Couldn’t Raph do that too?)

“I know.” Donnie smiles, in his small, sheepish way. It’s infectious, and Mikey always beams back. “Not everyone is you, though.”

“One of a kind, brah.”

“Yeah,” Donnie looks away, kneeling back down. “You are.”

They were both one of a kind. It was what made them so great.

They always managed to make their interests link, to find a way to have both wants met. Something only came between them once.

(Mikey remembers the horrible night of his school play, when Donnie had the mechanics meet where his club would show off their inventions. How the week before they’d bickered endlessly about how Mikey needed Donnie to be in the crowd- he was scared of losing the words, of messing up in front of the school, he needed him- his club could show off the inventions without him!)

(Donnie had gone cold, ignoring his attempts to reach out.)

(The next day, Mikey went to his foster house. He waited there on the doorstep, refusing to budge until Donnie came out. He did, eyes puffy, and Mikey wanted to shake him, selfish and mean and terrified of losing him. “Why did that matter more than me?” Donnie, selfish and mean and terrified too, didn’t hesitate, “No thing matters more than you. But I had to go. I had too.” And Mikey sobbed. And Donnie sobbed. And they hugged. And that was that.)

Donnie opened doors that Mikey never knew had been closed. He was Mikey’s secret-keeper, a lock-box that no force on earth could open. Mikey was determined to be the same, no matter how bad his stories got. Donnie needed to tell them and nothing in this world, not even his crazy, silly brain, would convince him not to listen.

“Kids don’t like nerds.” Donnie placed one of Mikey’s plastic stars on the wall next to his bed. They both loved space, even if it was for different reasons. “They don’t like feeling dumb. I’ve been a lot of places, but it’s always the same. They like you until they learn that you could be in college. And that makes the adults mad.”

Mikey makes a dog with tiny stars. “Why?”

“Because I’m wasting potential.” He stares at the star. “I could be doing great things. I should be doing great things.”

Mikey smiles, “Your constellations are really great.”

“Great enough to make mom proud?” He presses it against the wall. “Or to make Raph’s life better?”

“I bet your mom would be proud.” Donnie lays on the bed, knees pulled up to his chest. Mikey lays next to him, hands tucked behind his head and shoes on the wall. “And why isn’t that the adults job? Why are they mad at you for it?”

Donnie shrugs, “I guess I’m not smart enough to know that.”

“Still.” Mikey looks at him. “Bet your mom’s super proud.”

He plays with his hands, looking at the stars. “Yeah?”

Mikey reaches over to squeeze his arm, “Totally.”

They were the perfect pair. They were the ideal friends.

Everything was great, until the rainy night that the Shen brothers appeared on their doorstep and said that they were being moved hours away. If there was a reason for it, Mikey was having a hard time catching it through Donnie’s heartbroken stutters and Raph’s dense silence. And Mikey couldn’t make it better.

He froze there in the living room and all he could think was,

He’s leaving. He’s going away. He’s leaving.

I’m losing my best friend.

And Leo- rude Leo, perfect Leo, stiff Leo, dull Leo, tattle tale Leo (two-in-the-morning drunk laughter Leo, always gets Mikey the best birthday gifts Leo, first to speak up for the little guy Leo) decides to walk up and wrap his arms around the kid who had been no more than a nuisance to him for months, and say, “I’m sorry.”

Mikey watches Donnie break, knees knocking, tears streaming, hands clawing into the fabric of his soaked t-shirt as he blurts that he doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to doesn’t want to why can’t he stay he wants to stay he can’t lose them can’t lose them please please-

Donnie sobs. Raph watches him, motionless.

Their father sets a gentle hand on his shoulder, “I will find you dry clothes.”

“I’m not going back.” Raph says, oddly void of emotion, once again using singular when he meant it to be plural. “They don’t want me.”

His father squeezes, gentle, “I will pass the message that you will be staying over tonight.”

He blinks, like someone in a daze, and looks at him. He mutters. “We’re not supposed to be here.”

His father is quiet. Leo, now in need of a change of clothes himself, says, “It’ll be rude to bother them so late, drag them out here. We can tell them in the morning, right father?”

Their fathers nods. Donnie cries. Mikey scrubs the tears from his cheeks and goes to make everyone hot chocolate.

(And if he crumbles there alone on the kitchen floor while the pot boils, that’s between him and the stove. But the stove will never tell because it can’t, and Mikey will never tell because it’s not Mikey’s place to steal away attention and be this sad when he has it so good.)

When he comes back with the mugs, he finds his father gone and Leo on the rug, running his hands through Donnie’s hair, muttering under his breath, watching Raph.

His best friend, who’s leaving too. Raph stares through the wall.

Mikey sets the mugs down, walks towards him, and wraps his arms around the older teen. He squeezes his eyes shut, cheek pressed into the sticky wet fabric, and says, “I’ll miss you.”

Like a robot learning human affection, his arms slowly inch their way up. Then the hug is being returned, and he grumbles, “You don’t even like me.”

“I like you a lot.” He says, because he learned to while seeing the world through Donnie’s eyes. “You’re a good brother.”

“I’m not.” He bites. “It’s my fault. It’s always my-”

His voice cracks. His mouth shuts audibly.

After a moment, Raph tightens his grip.

His breathing changes. Mikey’s shoulder gets wet.

He thinks it might not be hair that is dripping.

He doesn’t have a clear memory of the rest of the night. He knows that Leo is the only one who drank the hot chocolate, sitting close to Mikey as the others changed. He remembers hugging Donnie, skinny arms clinging around him like they never wanted to let go, and feeling something deep in him tearing when they eventually do. He can see Leo handing Raph his old phone, looking him dead in the eyes like a promise being passed, softly asking, “Text me whenever.”

He wakes up sitting in the armchair, fogged brain taking in Leo’s missing presence and the couch where Donnie and Raph are reclining. Raph’s arm is over his younger twin’s chest, leg hanging off the recliner, free of the blanket that hides most of a friend who’d improved Mikey’s life to the point that he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to go back. Back to friends that he can’t share secrets with and activities that are perfectly safe without smiles that make him feel like he single-handedly brought the sun to a dark planet.

He finds out that Leo’s in the kitchen helping their father make breakfast. They’re talking in low voices, quieting when the rest of the small group walks in. Mikey’s clinging to Donnie’s hand. Donnie doesn’t look at him, but he also doesn’t pull away.

Mikey has to let go so he can go to the van in their driveway.

They get a few steps, before Raph pauses in his tracks.

Without a word, he spins around and charges back up the stairs, throwing himself at their dad. He holds onto him, shaking, and he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“I am proud of how far you’ve come.” Papa soothes as he returns the embrace. “Be safe, young one. Be strong.”

“Yeah.” He pulls away. “Okay.”

And he stomps back to the vehicle, snagging Donnie’s wrist as he goes. Donnie doesn’t fight him, waving before he gets inside, door slamming shut behind his twin.

Mikey waves until the van leaves his sight and then he runs inside.

He locks his bedroom door behind him and stays there.

Hours later, the door unlocks from the outside and Leo comes in.

The light from the stars on his wall is gone, so Mikey throws a pillow. It bounces harmlessly off his side. He’s quiet, sitting down at his desk (Mikey’s desk that Leo claimed because he never used it and Leo didn’t have room for one in his bedroom) to work. He turns on music (Mikey’s playlist- he hates Mikey’s playlist when he’s working) and starts reading some book that doesn’t matter.

And Mikey stares at him and stares at him and stares at him and then whines, over the music, “I don’t want them to leave.”

“I know.” Leo rubs his eyes, sighing. “Me neither.”

And somehow that makes Mikey feel a teeny bit better.

They numb the ache together until the weekend ends. The twins don’t show up and Mikey gets sympathetic back pats and gentle smiles from teachers and it only makes him more miserable because Donnie’s going to some strange place where he won’t get that.

Donnie is always on his mind, in the fires on the tv shows and the drone under his bed and any smiles with a gap and the long boring lectures and the comic that Donnie’s never heard of and the tools that had been moved to the garage and the dead grass in the backyard. He though of him as he sent out birthday invitations, and when Leo pulled out his phone to check for responses that Raph hardly ever gave because his foster family didn’t believe in meat products, giving wifi passwords, or children with technology.

He thought about him as the guests arrived and presents were all opened. He concentrated on him when he blew out the candles.

Mikey thinks about him late that night when he should have been sleeping, teddy bear taken out of his drawer and hugged close to his chest. (Donnie didn’t think it was silly- he cradled it like it mattered- “I had one when mom was still here.”) He hoped that wherever Donnie was, he had something fluffy of his own to cuddle with.

(He should have given him the bear.)

Mikey wakes up miserable, heading downstairs and smiling at a fully dressed Leo (Mikey should probably find his shoes). Leo smiles back and says that father’s out. (He’s driving and they’re going to be on time, so get he better get his butt moving.)

(Leo proceeds to makes them ten minutes late because he forces Mikey find his math textbook before they leave. Mikey doesn’t tell him that he probably won’t be opening it anytime soon.)

Papa isn’t there to pick him up so Mikey’s forced to sit through Leo’s practice. Mikey can’t bear be on the bleachers, so he distracts himself by making sure Leo consistently remembers that he exists (“DID YOU REMEMBER TO PUT ON DEODORANT? YOU KNOW HOW YOU TEND TO SMELL!” “MIKEY!”)

Leo lectures him the entire way home. He refuses to feel any remorse for his actions, pleased to see papa’s car in the driveway.

He goes inside, kicks off his shoes to reveal mismatched socks (“This again, Mikey?”) so Leo will do his laundry, and dashes to find their father for a very good explanation.

“Papa!” He screeches. “I NEED CHEESY BREA-”

He finds his father. And much more.

Donnie and Raph are in the living room, grinning like Mikey does on Christmas morning (Raph knows how to smile?), and Mikey gets two seconds to decide what to do.

So he runs, and Donnie meets him halfway, and as he stands on his tip-toes (did he get tall?), and hugs and hugs and hugs with all the loneliness and pain and love that he’s held inside, he gasps, “YOU DIDN’T COME TO MY PARTY!”

Donnie doesn’t answer, fingers bunching in fabric (like they always do, like he’s always scared to be ripped away), and Raph announces, “It’s not like we didn’t try. Government sucks.”

“Is it official?” Leo questions as he walks up. He hugs Raph, and Raph repropriates, and then they’re splitting apart. “Not really. But Sharon said he could have us ‘til it was.”

“So just more fostering?”

“Basically.”

“What is happening?” Mikey’s voice wobbles in happy betrayal. “Why am I the only one who doesn’t know anything?”

Donnie pulls away, and gestures helplessly, and admits, “They only told me a few hours ago.”

“Wasn’t gonna get your hopes up.” Raph states.

“What he said.” Leo speaks up. (Awful, evil brothers)

Their father adds, “How about you sit down and I explain?”

Mikey wanted to run around and scream with joy, but he sits down right next to Donnie, and learns their family of three is going become a family of five. And like the baby of the family that he still is, Mikey cries. His brothers- all three of them- three brothers- exchange the first set of looks of many that will define their relationship.

And then Donnie’s taking his hand, squeezing their fingers briefly, and smiling with the gap that always proved that someone can be happy despite every reason to feel sad, and pleads, “C’mon, bro. Show me around my new home?”

“You’ve been here.” Mikey laugh, struggling to calm himself down, wiping his snotty nose on his sleeve. “You don’t need me for that.”

“I saw your house.” Donnie beams. “Now I wanna see mine.”

Mikey understands everything unsaid. He’s the Donnie whisperer.

And now he gets to spend the rest of his life listening.

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lunajay33 · 3 days ago

Text

Target

•🩵🪽•

Summary: You’ve always been the quiet girl of the friend group between you Bonnie, Caroline and Elena, they convince you to go to the ball but when things go wrong Jeremy becomes your night in shinning armour

Pairing: Jeremy Gilbert x f!reader

Warning: Bullying

•Masterlist•

I grew up with my best friends, Elena, Caroline and Bonnie, they were all so outgoing and had no problem getting guys I mean Elena has two brothers in love with her and Matt still love her

But I was always the quiet one that no body seemed to take a second look at

“Come on y/n you have to go to the ball” Caroline whined as they all came and sat with me around the lunch table

“Oh I don’t know I don’t have a date”

“Who cares you can still have fun with us” Bonnie smiled

I shrugged with a little smile and they knew that was my way of saying yes

“Great you better be there tonight or we’re dragging you out of the house” Elena said as she ran off to Stefan

•

I tied up the back of my dress and did the final touches to my hair and makeup, breathing out a sigh of anxiety I got in my car and headed to the town ball, my dress a pale shimmer blue with a corset left over from my family as I was part of a founding family of this town

Parking my car I got out and walked towards the entranced where music was already started and people dancing around or sipping on champagne

Before I got inside I was stopped by a hand on my waist

“Well don’t you look beautiful” my heart skips a beat and I turn to see Jeremy Gilbert, the guy I’ve loved since we were kids but I know Caroline and Elena would judge me

“You look quite dashing yourself Jeremy” he smiles as he hooks his arm with mine leading me inside

“And where is your date tonight?” I ask surprised the hottest guys I town doesn’t have one

“Don’t have one, the girl I want to ask is forbidden” he says as he gives me a longing look as he leads me onto the dance floor taking my waist in one hand and my hand in the other and swaying to the music

“Do I know this mystery girl?”

“Oh you know her very well, she’s gorgeous, quiet, shy, oh and my sisters friend”

“Bonnie I assume” I sigh a bit upset

“No not Bonnie, she’s here tonight wearing a blue dress that makes me want to drool” my cheeks flush and I’m at a loss for words

As I open to say something back I’m interrupted

“Y/n what are you doing dancing with Jeremy, don’t tell me you were desperate enough for a date you ask your best friends little brother” Caroline mocks

“I….he was being nice he wanted to dance Caroline” I stutter, she could be really harsh sometimes

“That’s kind of pathetic using my brother” Elena chimes in, I look back up at Jeremy and he looks angry, he was always sweet to me that’s why I love him

“I’m sorry I just wanted to have fun” I said as I felt Jeremy’s warm hand on my lower back rubbing up and down

They took their glasses of champagne and doused me in it getting everyone’s attention completely embarrassing me

I turn and run outside as I hear them laughing, letting the tears fall when I get to the bench that over looks the lake

What did I do to make them hate me I thought we were best friends, would it be so wrong for me to love someone as nice as Jeremy

“Hey are you okay?” Jeremy asks as he sits next to me

“I guess, probably my fault anyways I know they like to pick on anything I do” his hand comes to pull me close to his chest

“It’s not your fault they’re just cruel and they’re not your friends if they treat you like that, you deserve someone who treats you like the princess you are”

“You’re just saying that because I’m soaked in champagne and my makeup is ruined”

“No im saying this because I love you” he says tipping my head up so I look at him

“You do?”

“Of course I do I’ve loved you from the moment Elena brought you over when we were young”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to make you chose”

“I love you too Jeremy, and after what just happened I don’t think I have to chose anymore” he leans down as he pulls me into a kiss deep and passionate, having been craving this forever

“I’ve wanted that for so long Angel”

“Me too now how about we get out of here and get some food and milkshakes”

“It would be my pleasure”

#jeremy gilbert #jeremy gilbert x reader #tvd fanfiction #tvd #damon salvatore #damon salvatore x reader #stefan salvatore #caroline forbes #elena gilbert #bonnie bennett #klaus mikealson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #kol mikaelson #the vampire diaries

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sturniololuvz · 3 days ago

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hii could you pls write abt the triplets and their sister living in boston and justin comes to visit and they basically leave out their sister and then just much angst and then fluff please?

okayy!

“Forgotten in Boston”

Sturniolos x sister

Y/N had always known that the bond between the triplets and Justin was different. He was their older brother, someone they looked up to, someone they hadn’t seen as often since he moved away. So when he came back to Boston for a visit, she knew they’d want to spend as much time with him as possible.

She just didn’t expect to be left out completely.

It started small—little things like the boys making plans without asking if she wanted to come. At first, she brushed it off, thinking maybe it was unintentional.

But then, it became obvious.

“Yo, let’s hit the North End for dinner,” Justin had said earlier that day.

Y/N, sitting on the couch, perked up. “Ooh, can I come?”

Chris barely glanced at her as he grabbed his jacket. “It’s kinda like… a brother thing, you know?”

Her stomach dropped. “Oh.”

“Yeah, but we’ll be back soon,” Matt added quickly, ruffling her hair as he walked by.

Nick tossed her the remote. “You can pick a movie for when we get back.”

And just like that, they were gone.

Y/N sat there, gripping the remote, her chest tight.

It happened again the next day. And the next.

Every time she tried to join in, it was always the same excuse. “Brother time.”

As if she wasn’t their sibling too.

By the fourth day, she’d had enough.

They had just come back from some stupid arcade, all laughing about inside jokes she wasn’t part of. Justin was throwing an arm around Matt’s shoulders, Nick was talking about some game he won, and Chris— the one who always made sure she was included—was just as wrapped up in it as the rest.

She stood up from the couch, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “I’m going to bed.”

Chris blinked. “It’s, like, seven?”

“Yeah, well, there’s not much else for me to do alone,” she snapped.

The room went silent.

Nick frowned. “What?”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You guys have completely ignored me this entire week. Every time I try to spend time with you, I get shut out because I’m not part of your ‘brother time.’ Do you even realize how shitty that feels?”

Matt opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

“No, actually, don’t answer that. Because I already know—you don’t realize, because you haven’t even noticed I’ve been sitting here alone every single day.” Her voice cracked, and she hated it.

Chris looked like she had just punched him in the gut. “Y/N…”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Forget it. Just enjoy your time with Justin.”

And with that, she walked to her room, slamming the door behind her.

It was maybe an hour later when she heard the soft knock.

“Y/N?”

She stayed silent, hugging her pillow.

Another knock. “Can we come in?”

More than one voice. She sighed, wiping her eyes before mumbling, “Whatever.”

The door creaked open, and the triplets walked in, looking… guilty.

Chris sat on the edge of her bed first. “We’re dicks.”

Nick sighed. “Huge dicks.”

Matt nodded. “Like, the biggest dicks.”

Y/N huffed out a small laugh, even though she was still upset. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Chris ran a hand through his hair, looking down. “I didn’t even realize we were leaving you out. I swear it wasn’t on purpose.”

Nick leaned against her desk. “We just got caught up in seeing Justin again, and—fuck, that’s not even an excuse. We just… we messed up.”

Matt sat next to her, nudging her shoulder. “We’re really sorry, Y/N/N. We feel like shit.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, picking at a loose thread on her blanket. “It really sucked,” she admitted softly.

Chris exhaled. “I know.”

Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “Can we make it up to you?”

She raised a brow. “How?”

Matt grinned. “You get to pick what we do tomorrow. Anything. No complaints, no excuses.”

Chris nudged her. “Even if it’s something super girly and we look stupid.”

Y/N sniffled, but a small smile crept onto her face. “Even if I make you guys get pedicures with me?”

Nick groaned. “God, please, anything but that.”

Chris laughed. “Nope, no complaints! That’s the deal.”

Matt sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if they put rhinestones on my toes, I’m blaming you.”

Y/N let out a real laugh this time, and the tightness in her chest started to ease.

Chris wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We love you, you know that, right?”

She leaned into him, finally feeling like their sister again. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I love you guys too.”

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #sturniolo #sturniolos #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sister sturniolo #sturniolo series

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whitehairandtraumatized-bracket · 3 days ago

Text

White Hair and Trauma Preliminary 4: My Hero Academia

Dabi had 4 submissions while Shigaraki had 2

trauma and propaganda under the cut! (there really is a lot this time.)

Trauma!

Shigaraki: “Well where to start. His superpower is making anything he touches with all five fingers crumble into dust. His dad was abusive and he accidentally killed his whole family as a little kid when his powers activated all of a sudden. He gets taken in by a nasty villain and gets groomed into becoming a supervillain. They give him the hands of his family members to wear on his body. And later in the manga theres even more. Everything in the world happens to this guy. He goes full white hair after unlocking even more of his quirk and it looks cool as hell in the manga.”

"Killed his family, got taken in by a villain who basically raised him as a weapon. Hair turned white from trauma and sorta medical experimentation"

Dabi/Touya: “Ok so his dad wanted to be the best hero ever, but also was a terrible person who abused his wife and son. That son, Toya, would survive his powers going balistic...but he would be heavily wounded to the point of having his flayed flesh falling from his body. He survived...and would be his father's biggest nightmare. He dyed his hair black until specifically the moment where he could reveal himself to his father and crush him emotionally...and just a bit physically.”

“Had an abusive father that put too much pressure on him, and his hair turned white due to extreme stress”

“I wish i could loredump but my hc are really fucking canon divergent so i'll wrap it up: his dad wanted a super strong heir with a better version of his fire powers to become Hero #1 and when lil Touya actually got there he abandoned him, had other children that he ignored him for etc. Then Touya goes to practice in the woods and accidentally burns like 10 km² of land and almost kills himself in the process. Basically enters a coma and wakes up years later in a secret hospital, escapes that too and sees that his family "moved on" from him, joins a gang and seeks vengeance (spoiler: bro fails and is hospitalized and dies(?) idk i hate endings so idc lol)”

“Once, there was a boy who wanted his father to love him.

Enji had loved Touya, at the beginning. He’d spent time with him, cared about him; that’s why it had hurt so much, once all of that was taken. For at the end of the day, to Endeavor, Touya was not a son but a weapon; and when found to be a “defective” one, Touya was put aside and forgotten. There was only one reason that the father had had his children, after all, and with each new child Touya felt further replaced, further pushed away. I can only show him the world of heroes, Enji had said; he hadn’t even tried to be a dad. So instead of trying, he told Touya to let go.

Touya couldn’t let go; his father wouldn’t look at him, only spent time with the youngest brother instead. Making him into the weapon that Touya was begging to be— no one had looked at him, so he couldn’t see. He still can’t see. He had figured out why he had been created, and determined to fulfill a goal no child should strive for, Touya attempted to prove himself worthy of being born.

And one day, Touya didn’t come home; he didn’t die, but he found his end on a mountain wreathed in flames. And a villain found him before he was truly lost, and three years in a coma on, Touya woke up. And what was the first thing he did, then? He ran home— once there, he found his own shrine, he found Shouto being trained, he found that he had been forgotten.

If you ask Dabi, he’ll tell you that that was when Touya really died. But Dabi is the king of lies— and to no one does he lie more, than to himself. No, Touya died sometime in the six years between then and now— sometime in the silence that we know nothing about— he took a life, he lost his mind, he changed his name.

Either way, Touya is dead, and Dabi lives; but there is a chance, I think, for something to give.”

Propaganda!

Dabi/Touya:

The man hid the fact he had white hair until the most extra moment to reveal it. Seriously.

1) White hair is revealed dramatically, 2) depressed bi cunt, 3) Daddy issues and imo top older sibling representation, 4) Blue Fire (best fucking fantasy element)

He has such an interesting character arc and! When his identity was revealed in the manga, he trended over US election results in 2020 ajdhdj he was trending at 1 for days

Shigaraki: He had such a good arc and was like the hero of villains

#white hair and trauma preliminaries #polls #shigaraki tomura #tomura shiragaki #mha dabi #mha #bnha

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sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth · 19 hours ago

Text

Forbidden Fruit (Winchester men x female reader) - Chapter 4

You're over at the Winchester house, meeting Dean and John for the first time. When you and Sam disappear to his room after dinner, Dean and John think about what it would be like to be with the girl the youngest Winchester brought home. And maybe, just maybe, you're thinking of them too...

Read it on AO3

Rated E

Part 2 coming to AO3 this Sunday!

Chapter 4 - You

When you wake up, Sam's peacefully sleeping next to you. You shift from under his arm, try to stretch. The faint light of the alarm clock on the night stand says 1:17.

You blink a little, trying to get oriented in the dark. Right, you're at Sam's place. This is his room. His bed. You smile a little at the thought.

Usually, Sam has to sneak in through your second story bedroom window, thank God for that old apple tree and its thick branches that can even carry someone his size. But tonight, you're at the Winchester house. Which also means you'll have some explaining to do at home tomorrow. That's a problem for future-you, though.

You sit up, watching Sam in the soft LED glow. He's on his front, face turned toward you, moving the tiniest bit with every deep breath he takes. He's just so handsome to look at. His lips slightly parted, that little spot next to his nose... you really want to run your hand through his soft hair, but you wouldn't want to disturb his sleep.

You're not sure what woke you, but you know you're probably not going back to sleep any time soon, now that you're up.

So you just sit there for a while, contemplating. You think back to the events of the day.

How you and Sam had been sitting at the library, going through the new brochures for Yale they had sent. You had joked and pretended to be a TA trying to get him to enroll, and it had turned into this whole sexy thing.

And then Sam had suggested taking you back to his place, because while sex at the library was definitely on your bucket list, maybe the afternoon they had the kids' puppet show on wasn't exactly the best time.

You'd always wondered what the home of Sam Winchester looked like, even though he never called it that. He had told you not to get too excited, but that you'd have the house to yourselves, an entire evening to try at least some of the things you had talked about, teasing each other.

And then his brother showed up. Dean. The one you've heard so many stories about. The one who was an insatiable ladies' man, the one that kept eye-fucking you from the minute he walked in.

Truthfully, you hadn't been his number 1 fan from everything Sam had told you about him. But then he'd made his jokes, which were at least to some extent funny, and the way he'd talked to Sam... it was more than obvious that he cared a lot for his younger brother. Just like you do. And you let your hard shell melt a little, for Sam's sake. You could even say that you enjoyed the playful banter with Dean, although you're still a little on the fence whether it was innocent or not.

It was a light atmosphere, a pleasant evening, up until John came home. You're still a little baffled at the way both brothers tensed up when they saw their father coming in. How Dean went into good little soldier mode, and how Sam retracted into his shell. John hadn't really done or said anything, but you're sure the version of him you witnessed earlier is not the one the brothers are used to. You just know that something had made you uncomfortable, you had suddenly felt the urge to protect Sam.

You'd carefully watched John during dinner, trying to pick up on the slightest behavioral cues, and you do pride yourself in noticing such things easily. But that guy... he just seems impossible to read. You haven't met many people like that. Maybe it's because of his job. You don't actually know what he does, but you do know that Sam has been weirdly vague about it. From your own experience you know better than to keep prodding at someone's... strained relationship with their parents.

You wonder if he's the reason Sam acts like he does. You've never met a man like Sam. So kind, reflected, serious at times, at times sassy. Not to mention the things he does to you in bed, the way he handles you.

You had been dating for a full month before you believed him he was actually younger than you. The way Sam talks about his outlook on life, about emotions, it's just so different from other people his age. Or your age, for that matter. Maybe that's because he had to grow up too fast in this family.

You think about California, he says he's not sold on Stanford, but you know that's what he wants. About how driven he is to get into a good college, maybe even on a scholarship. You know he'd absolutely nail it. And you hope that somewhere in the plans for his future, there's room for you.

You try to shake the gloomy thoughts off. College is still ages away for Sam. And maybe John's just had a real shitty day, maybe, when he's in a good mood, he's all sunshine and rainbow-kittens. You doubt it, but innocent until proven guilty, right?

You quietly hop out of bed to get yourself a glass of water. You hesitate for a second, pondering if you should put on your skirt because Sam's shirt that you're still wearing is barely covering your ass, but you decide against it. After all, it's the middle of the night.

You open the door, careful not to make any sound, and move down the narrow hallway. The TV is on, the volume turned all the way down. You can't really see it from the hallway, but you see the hue on the wall changing colors.

When you reach the kitchen you feel around in the dark for the light switch, finding it to your right. It goes on with a low buzzing sound, and you have to shield your eyes from the sudden change in brightness. As you keep blinking, muttering under your breath, you suddenly hear a voice, not that far away.

"Why hello, there." Your hand shoots down, tugging at your shirt, because you're sure the way you had your arm up against the bright light had your panties out for whoever is there to see. You feel your cheeks turning pink when your eyes finally adjust and look straight at Dean.

He's standing there, next to the sink, a huge glass of water raised to his lips, and he's wearing nothing but his boxers. The man looks like a goddamn Calvin Klein model. And there's a charming little grin on his face.

Your mouth opens, and it takes way longer than it should for you to say something. "I... I just wanted to get a glass of water."

Dean nods, obviously holding back on something he wants to say. He puts his glass down, reaches for another one over the sink and fills it up to you. While he's not looking, you let your gaze wander over his tantalizingly exposed body. The way you can see his muscles contract under the skin with every movement, how his briefs tightly hug that perfect ass, and the outline of...

You force your eyes back up to meet his when he turns to you, offering you a full glass. Not that his face is any less worth looking at. You reach out to take the glass from his hand, and your fingertips brush against his. You're not sure if your movement is uncoordinated because you're slightly distracted by his practically naked form, or if his grip on the glass is a little too firm, but when you try to take it a substantial amount of its content spills over, landing on... Dean.

Without thinking, you pick up the towel on the kitchen counter next to you, and before you know it you're rubbing him down. A couple of seconds later you start realizing what you're doing, and so does he. You can see every muscle in his body tense up, which is a wonderful sight to behold, and also way more sexual than you'd like. You stare at each other for a moment, his remarkably green eyes searching your face.

You clear your throat, mumbling an apology to him and let go of the towel that he immediately catches. "Don't worry," he says, his voice rasp. "Nothing happened, right?" You're not sure if he's talking about the spill or the fact that you were pretty much feeling him up.

You stare at him for a little longer, and then turn away to start gulping your water down like you've been stranded in the desert for 40 days. Dean finishes drying himself off, then excuses himself to go back to bed, taking the towel with him and holding it suspiciously in front of his crotch.

You stand there for another minute, put your glass in the sink. You shiver a little, not sure whether the air has suddenly gotten a little chillier or if your nipples have suddenly gone hard for a different reason.

Your mind flashes back to Dean, just standing there in his stupid boxers, with those stupid muscles that make you want to run your tongue all over him while grabbing that stupid perfect ass.

You snap awake, shocked by your own thoughts, and try to take a deep breath.

You wait a little longer before you move, giving Dean time to really go to bed, and then leave the kitchen. You flick the lights off, running your hand along the wall to find the bathroom. You only switch on the small lamp on the mirror over the sink and sit down on the toilet to pee.

When you're done you decide not to flush, not wanting to cause more commotion in the Winchester household. You'll probably be the first to get up in the morning anyway. You wash your hands, take a good look at yourself in the mirror and then pull on the little string next to it, to quickly make your way back to Sam's room in the dark.

You manage an entire three steps out of the bathroom door before you bump into something nose first. Into someone.

You were rushing so fast that you almost lose your balance at the sudden impact, you probably would have landed on the floor if it weren't for the two big arms wrapping around you.

You swallow hard and look up. Your eyes haven't nearly adjusted to the dark again, so you can't see him. But you know it's not Sam. You'd recognize Sam's touch immediately. And no, it isn't Dean either. Dean's... smoother. His skin is softer – you know that now. The whiskey on his breath is not as heavy. No. The man holding you so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body is none other than John Winchester.

You steady yourself, slightly trying to move away from him, but his grasp on you is firm. He's got one hand around your shoulders, the other on your waist, on that exact spot that is a little too high up to be indecent and just low enough to make a current go through your body. And you feel his rough hand on your skin because that damn shirt just had to ride up again.

"Are you okay?", he asks, finally loosening his grip. Still holding you, but gentler. As if he was scared he could crush you. He lets you go after a few seconds but stays impossibly close to you. You immediately feel the ghost of his touch where his fingers were, but you pull yourself together.

You nod. "I was just... I just had to pee. Sorry I ran into you, Mr. Winchester," you say, and the voice in your head adds a raging why does nobody in this family turn on the lights?!

"Don't be sorry. I've had run-ins way worse than this." You think you can hear a smile in his voice, but again, with him, you're just not sure. "And please, call me John."

You clear your throat. "Did you... did you do what you needed to do?" As your eyes keep adapting, you think you can see him raising his eyebrows. "You said earlier that you needed to go out. Was it a work thing?"

He straightens up. "Yeah", he slowly says, perceivably choosing his words carefully, "I took care of it." You make a mental note about him evading the work part of the question.

"Good. Uhm. I think I should get back to bed before I wake any more Winchesters." John chuckles. It's a low, rumbling sound, and you're not sure he's only chuckling about what you just said.

"We sure are a bunch of light sleepers," he says. He reaches out, putting his heavy hand on your shoulder blade. "Good night then." There's that electric feeling again. He looks you deep in the eyes, an unmistakable look of desire on his face. Now you can even see it in the dark. His hand runs down over your back, pulling you into him the slightest bit, following the curve of your body. You think you feel his fingers fanning out when his hand reaches your ass, and a light squeeze, and then he pushes past you, leaving you standing in the hallway.

You stand there for a moment, rooted to the spot. You feel your heart beating, and you feel... wet.

You close your eyes to steady your breathing, memorizing all the places you've felt John on your body. The smell of the whiskey is still lingering in the air, and it leaves you dizzy. Dizzy in a way that makes you want to touch yourself. Makes you want him to touch you. More. Just a little more. It makes you want his calloused hands ghosting over your plump skin, cupping your breasts, his fingers between your legs while he presses you up against the wall. Claims you.

You shiver. You then remember that you're not actually glued to the spot, shake yourself out of it and make your way back to the bedroom. Sam's bedroom. Your boyfriend Sam's bedroom.

You quietly slip in, close the door behind you. You hurry under the sheets and cuddle up to your human radiator, Sam having at some point shifted, now lying on his side. You press your face into his chest, breathe in his scent and warmth to ground yourself when you feel his hand caressing your head.

"Everything okay?", he asks, voice gravelly from sleep. You nod, kiss him. "Yeah. All good. All peachy."

Sam huffs, his hand now tracing over your arm. You run your hand over his chest, down his abs, still trying to figure out what just happened. With John. And Dean. You land on the elastic band of his briefs, and without thinking, your finger hooks into it. You pull it slightly toward you, and then your hand is inside of Sam's underwear, finding his already half hard cock.

His breathing staggers for a second.

You're not sure what got you so riled up. You love Sam. And you're pretty sure he loves you. You're his place of worship, with you, he can let his guard down, he knows you'll always be there to catch him when he falls. You two belong together, like PB and J, but that right there, what you felt in the kitchen, and in the hallway... that wasn't about love. That was about sex.

You start pumping your fist around him.

There was a moment at dinner, when you had gotten up to clean the saucy mess Sam had made, when you had felt like a gazelle walking into the middle of a lions' den. You had felt three pairs of eyes burning on your skin, three sets of claws itching to grab and devour you. And you'd liked it.

Sam looks down at the motion of your hand.

It made you feel seen. And desirable. And vulnerable. In a good way, because you know Sam's there. He'll always be there to catch you when you fall.

You slide down on the bed, pulling down his boxers and unceremoniously taking his dick in your mouth.

You let out a low, sultry moan at the sensation. Your head bobs up and down a couple of times, your eyes fluttering shut at his taste on your tongue.

Sam gasps. "You're going to wake up Dean and my dad."

"Don't worry. They're up already," you say as you let him slip out of your mouth with a wet plop. You push at his hips so he's lying flat on his back.

Sam raises his eyebrows as he's reaching for a condom while you strip down your panties. "...they are?"

"They're wandering around the house. Saw both of them a minute ago." You snatch the packet from his hand, rip it open and start rolling the rubber down on his length. A second later you're on him, the mattress squeaking, dipping under your weight.

Sam's grinning, aligning himself with you, and then he's inside you. There's next to no resistance because of how wet you already are, and you moan sensually as your body adjusts to his size. "Then we probably should be a little less..."

"No. I don't care who hears us." You start rolling your hips, the feeling of fullness making your head spin. You grind yourself down on him, trying to reach that spot that you know will get you where you want to go.

But Sam's not having it. He grabs your hips firmly, and then, without slipping out of you, turns you on your back. The bed creaks loudly. It makes you squeal. "You know... I don't think that's it. That you don't care. I think you actually want them to hear you."

"Maybe I do." You look up at him, licking your lips, writhing under his touch. Sam's towering over you, a hungry look on his face. He pulls out a few inches, so that only his tip is still inside you, before pushing back into you. A huffed moan escapes your lips.

You arch your back, one of his hands snakes under you, pulling you close while he holds himself up with the other next to your head. You can still see the faint bite mark you left there earlier. "Naughty. You want them to catch us?"

"I do," you blissfully sigh, entangling one of your hands in the soft hair at the back of his neck. His hips start snapping against you harder, faster. It makes you gasp.

His head dips to kiss your jaw. He's found a steady rhythm that you know isn't going to give you much time before you come. You can already feel the orgasm looming over you.

"You want them to come in here? See you like this? All riled up, ready to fall apart?"

You nod needily. Whimper. He continues slamming into you.

"You want them to watch while I tear you apart? Maybe even have a go at you themselves?"

You hear yourself sharply inhaling. It's like an out-of-body experience.

That last sentence, combined with Sam fucking you rough like that, does it for you. You let go, and you're loud. There is no way anyone in this house, awake or asleep, can not hear the moan you produce when the orgasm crashes over you. You feel like there's fire coursing through your veins, it's so intense it almost hurts. Sam's right behind you, he continues to push into you for a couple more thrusts and then comes undone, grunting loudly.

He drops down on you, panting heavily as he slips out of you. The clothes you had no time to shed are damp, sticking to your bodies. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You twitch a little as his hair tickles your nose. You both lie there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. After a while, Sam pushes himself back up on his arms, a cheeky grin on his face.

You put your hands over your eyes. "What... was that?" , you whisper, suddenly very aware of how loud you probably were a couple of minutes ago.

Sam chuckles. "I don't know. I guess we just discovered a new kink of yours. Was kinda hot."

He gently peels your hands away from your face. You blink, biting your lip. Sam's looking at you, his lips slightly parted, smiling at you.

"You look so beautiful," he softly says.

Your heart almost bursts at his words. So simple, but so earnest.

You reach up to cup his cheek, running your thumb over his warm skin. This man... he's just everything for you. Your whole world.

"I love you, Sam."

He doesn't respond immediately, but even in the faint glow of his alarm clock you can see the joy in his eyes before he pulls you in for a kiss.

#spn #supernatural #fanfiction #fanfic #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x you #john winchester #john winchester x you #john winchester x reader

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