#came on my playlist after over a week of not hearing it & i could cry i love kyuuyaku so much u have no idea

[red-dyed-sarumane]

TRULY the most perfect song in the world to me i cannot describe in words how much i love this song

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Everbody Loves a Clown | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? )

Word Count: 5956

Warnings: Canon violence, canon gore, coping with parental death, clowns lol

A/N: Special treat since the first episode was kinda short! Happy reading, everyone!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

The only light in the middle of the clearing in the woods came from John’s wrapped, burning body. You stood wordlessly between Dean and Sam, watching as the pyre burned to ash. Dean stared silently while his brother fought tears.

It felt so odd to have spent so much time looking for John— a man you'd only met in passing during a hunt a little over a year ago— to now be standing in front of his burning corpse. It almost felt anticlimactic if you detached emotion completely from your situation.

On the very real and guttural side of things, though, you knew that having spent so little time with John after looking for him for almost a year was going to take a horrible toll on his boys, especially your Dean.

Sam spoke for the first time in hours. “Before he.. before... did he say anything to you? About anything?”

Dean refused to look at you or his brother, but said, “No. Nothing.”

An obvious lie.

***

Over a week after John’s funeral, you were watching Dean work on his car at Bobby’s. Bobby had been nice enough to let the three of you stay with him while Dean got the Impala back in working order.

Selfishly, every time you looked at Dean, you wanted to come right out with your feelings. Although, he was grieving, and you did not want to take advantage of his vulnerability. You wouldn't want your relationship to be born out of such a terrible tragedy.

However, you would continue to be there for him however he needed, even if that meant sitting next to him in the hot sun silently for hours and handing him a wrench every once in a while. You knew better than to ask if he was okay. You’d lost your father, too and knew he wouldn’t be okay for quite some time.

At first, he’d barely tolerated you sitting next to him. He fought you on everything you tried to do for him, but you got him to shut up after a few days. You knew he knew what you were playing at, and you could tell he appreciated it nonetheless.

Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as well-fortified against his emotions. You could hear him crying in the next room almost nightly, and it broke your heart. But you would rather Sam cry than build himself up against negative feelings the way his brother did. He was more into the touchy-feely-hug-it-out therapy style, and you were more than happy to give that to him. These boys needed you to be strong for them, and you would happily do so for as long as they needed. 

“How's the car coming along?” Sam asked, approaching you and Dean, who was under his car. You sat next to where his boots stuck out with a tool box in your lap.

“Slow,” Dean responded.

“Yeah? Need any help?”

“What, you under a hood? I'll pass.”

“Need anything else, then?”

Dean rolled himself out from under the car and stood up above you. You looked between Dean’s face, set in hard lines, and his brother’s puppy-dog stare. “Stop it, Sam.”

“Stop what?” the younger brother asked innocently.

“Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise,” Dean scoffed.

“Alright, Dean, it's just—” Sam took a deep breath. “We've been at Bobby's for over a week now, and you haven't brought up Dad once.”

“You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance.” You knew the bite in Dean’s voice was all a mask.

“Don't patronize me, Dean,” Sam returned. “Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car.”

“Sam, let it go—” you tried, but Dean continued to talk over you.

“Revenge, huh?” Dean chuckled humorlessly. “Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it— oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car.” He got back down under it.  

“Well, we've got something, alright?” Sam crouched down next to you and handed you a cell phone. “It’s what I came out here to tell you. This is one of dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this.”

Dean pushed himself out from under the car again and sat up next to you as you played the voicemail. “John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me.”

“That message is four months old,” Sam explained.

“Dad saved that chick's message for four months?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

Sam nodded.

“Who’s Ellen?” you asked. “Any mention of her in your dad’s journal?”

“No. But I ran a trace on her phone number, and I got an address.”

***

You and the boys ended up taking one of Bobby’s beat-up minivans to the Roadhouse Saloon; the address Ellen’s voicemail led to. 

“This is humiliating. I feel like a fuckin’ soccer mom!” Dean groaned as he parked the car.

“It’s the only one Bobby had running, dude,” you reminded him. You followed the boys into the purposefully dilapidated-looking building.  

“Hello? Anybody here?” Dean asked loudly. No response ever came. All you could hear was a fly buzzing and a light popping. You caught sight of a man passed out on the pool table facing away from you. 

“Hey, buddy?” Sam said. He turned back to you and Dean. “I'm guessing that isn't Ellen.” He headed into a back room to look around. You walked a little ahead of Dean, only turning around when you heard him say. “Oh god, please let that be a rifle.”

You whipped out your gun and turned to see a pretty petite blonde holding a cocked rifle to Dean’s back. “No, I'm just real happy to see you. Don't move.”

“Hey!” you said. She looked to you, but didn’t move her gun from Dean’s back. “You shoot him, and you’re dead,” you told her.

“Well, he moves, and he’s dead,” she replied.

“Ladies, Ladies, please,” Dean smirked. “You know, you should know something, miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy to do…” He turned around fluidly and grabbed the rifle. “That.”

The blonde punched him square in the nose and took back the rifle. You cocked your pistol, catching her attention. 

“Sam! A little help, please!” Dean said. 

“Sorry, Dean, I can't right now. I'm a... little tied up.” Sam walked out with his hands on his head and a shotgun pointed at the back of him. An older woman walked out holding it. “Sam? Dean? Winchester?” she said.

“Yeah…?” Dean said.

“Son of a bitch,” the woman muttered.

The blonde spoke up next. “Mom, you know these guys?”

“Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys,” she answered, lowering the gun and laughing. “Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo.”

Jo lowered her rifle as well. “Hey,” she smiled.

“Oh, we’re just supposed to be cool now?” you remarked, still pointing your gun at the blonde.

“(Y/N), cool it,” Dean warned. You did as told and slowly lowered your gun, still stand-offish. 

“You're not gonna hit me again, are you?” Dean asked Jo. 

Ellen handed him a small towel filled with ice. 

“Thanks. You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?” he asked as he took it from her.

“Well, the demon, of course,” she stated as if it was obvious. “I heard he was closing in on it.”

“What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?” Dean snarked. “I mean, who- who are you? How do you know about all this?”

The brunette scoffed. “Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once.”

“Oh yeah? How come he never mentioned you before?”

She looked down and softened her voice. “You'd have to ask him that.”

“So why exactly do we need your help?” Dean questioned.

Now you wanted Dean to cool it. “Relax, man,” you warned.

“Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if—” Ellen stopped suddenly. “He didn't send you.” She looked frantically between Dean and Sam. “He's all right, isn't he?”

Dean refused to look at her, but Sam answered instead. “No. No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess.”

Ellen looked sad. “I’m so sorry.”

“It's okay. We're all right,” Dean replied.

“Really? I know how close you and your dad were.”

“Really, lady, I'm fine,” he growled.

“Dean, relax,” you urged him quietly.

Sam continued the conversation with Ellen. “So look, if you can help, we could use all the help we can get.”

“Well, we can't. But Ash will,” she smirked.

“Who's Ash?” you asked.

“Ash!” she called.

You turned to the man on the pool table as he jerked up and flailed up. “What? It closin' time?”

Sam snorted. “That’s Ash?”

Jo hummed. “Mm-hmm. He's a genius.”

You looked at her, skeptical. 

“Sit, please,” Ellen said, and she and her daughter moved around the bar opposite you while you slapped a folder down in front of Ash. He sat across the bar from you.

“You've gotta be kidding me, this guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie,” Dean remarked.

Ash grinned drunkenly. “I like you.”

“Thanks,” the older brother smiled, seeming slightly confused by the drunk.

“Just give him a chance,” Jo urged.

You opened the folder and pushed it toward Ash. “That’s about a year’s worth of John’s work. See if you can make heads or tails of it.”

Ash shook his head as he looked through the papers. “Come on. This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody can track a demon like this.”

“Our dad could,” said Sam.

“There are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean, damn!” Ash’s cadence made you giggle. “They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms— You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun.”

“Can you track it or not?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time, uh, give me—” he thought for a moment— “fifty-one hours.” He got up to leave, but Dean stopped him. 

“I, uh, I dig the haircut.”

He waved his hair around dramatically. “All business up front, party in the back.”

Jo walked around Dean, flirting a little. You could’ve killed her. 

He offered Jo a polite smile, but you apparently were not doing a good job of hiding your jealousy.

“Easy, tiger,” Dean chuckled, shooting you a smirk. 

You could practically feel Jo checking Dean out. 

“She’s looking at you like a hunk of meat,” you replied, talking through your teeth. 

“What, you mean, like you do?” he replied, smirking.

“I do not!” You paused at his deadpan look. “I mean, sometimes, maybe, quite possibly, but not right now.”

He nodded. “And you know, I, uh, I appreciate that.”

“Do you really? Sounded like you had a gun to your head when you said that,” you giggled.

He looked back at you sincerely. “You know I do.”

"I do just have... one question, though," you said, unable to stop the words coming out of your mouth due to the sudden, subtle flirting coming from Dean.

He nodded for you to continue.

"I'm assuming you pieced together what I was gonna tell you back at the hospital," you trailed off.

Dean nodded again, the ends of his lips tugging upward.

"You're not... freaked out?"

He shook his head, still smiling. "Opposite of freaked out."

You could feel your cheeks heating, and you looked down at the bar in front of you. Dean's chuckle was music to your ears despite the way it spurred on your embarrassment.

Then, Sam approached you and Dean. “A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of. Looks to me like there might be a hunt.”

“Yeah. So?” Dean asked.

“So, I told her we'd check it out.”

***

Dean continued to grumble about the “stupid minivan” the whole way to your next hunt. Sam did research as you scribbled in your journal. Helping the boys was a task you wouldn't give up for anything, but it was beginning to bring up some negative emotions and memories for you. Journaling was helping to calm the storm inside you.

“You've gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?” Dean scoffed.

“Yeah. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually,” Sam responded.

“And this family was at some carnival that night?”

“Right, right. The, uh, Cooper Carnivals.”

“So, how do we know it’s not some psycho in a clown suit?” you piped up.

“Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course,” Sam explained.

“Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?” Dean mocked.

“Oh, give me a break,” the brunet muttered.

You smiled but refused to make fun of him, because “everyone is afraid of something.” 

“You’re scared of clowns?” you asked.

“Yeah, he still busts out crying whenever he sees Ronald McDonald on the television,” Dean told you.

“Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying,” Sam deadpanned.

“Planes crash!”

“And apparently clowns kill!”

"Boys—!"

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean mumbled. “So these types of murders, they ever happen before?”

“Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales,” the younger Winchester explained.

“It’s weird, though, spirits are usually bound to specific locales, y’know,” you said. “So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?”

“Cursed object, maybe,” Dean suggested. “Spirit attaches itself to something and the, uh, carnival carries it around with them.”

“Great. Paranormal scavenger hunt.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well, blame Sam. It was his idea. By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job.” Dean threw a look to his brother.

“So?”

“It's just… not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt.”

You eyed Sam strangely, too.

The younger Winchester softened. “I don't know, I just think, this job, it's what Dad would have wanted us to do.”

“What Dad would have wanted?” Dean turned his face to Sam.

“Yeah. So?” Sam challenged.

“Nothin'.”

***

You and the boys decided to join the carnival after the second family had been murdered to get a closer look at the happenings during the carnival. “Friends close, freak-shows closer,” Dean had said.

When you entered yet another tent in search of the show’s organizer. You found a man throwing knives at a target; all landing near but not quite on the bulls-eye. 

“Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper; have you seen him around?” the older brother asked.

The man turned around and pulled off his sunglasses. “What is that, some kind of joke?” 

“Oh. God, I'm— I'm sorry,” Dean said.

“You think I wouldn't give my teeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?”

Dean whispered to you, “Wanna give me a little help here?”

You shook your head. “Not really.”

“Hey man, is there a problem?” a voice interrogated from behind you. You turned to see a very short man in a red cape.

“Yeah, this guy hates blind people,” the knife-thrower said.

“No, I don't, I—” Dean’s gorgeous smile was doing nothing to help him in this situation.

“Hey, buddy, what's your problem?” the short man scowled.

“Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding.”

“Little?! You son of a bitch!” The man went to charge Dean.

“No, no, no, no! I'm just— could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is?”

You and Sam snickered.

“Please?” you asked. 

The short man looked up at you, and his gaze softened. “Sure, sweetheart, follow me.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, looking back at the boys. 

Dean’s jaw was clenched for a reason you weren’t quite sure of. When you asked, he said, “Just don’t like anybody else callin’ you that.”

You smiled lopsidedly. He could be really sweet when he wanted to be.

Mr. Cooper met you at the door of his office and invited you in. “You three picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat.”

You looked at the available seating options, and Dean motioned for you to take the normal of the two chairs. You obliged, and Dean stood behind you, forcing Sam to sit in the obnoxious pink chair with a giant clown face on it. He sat on the chair hesitantly and refused to relax into it. 

“We've got all kinds of local trouble,” Mr. Cooper continued.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever worked the circuit before?”

“Yes, sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas,” Sam responded.

“Doing what? Ride jockeys? Butcher? ANS men?” 

“Yeah, it's, uh, little bit of everything, I guess.”

Mr. Cooper eyed your group strangely. “You three have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?”

“Nope,” Dean grinned. “But we really need the work. Oh, and uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady.”

“You see that picture? That's my daddy.” The showrunner pointed to a black and white picture on the wall of a man in a fedora in front of a ferris wheel.

“You guys could be twins,” you pointed out. 

Mr. Cooper smiled thoughtfully. “He was in the business. Ran a freakshow. Till they outlawed them, most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else.

"But you three? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Marry this one, maybe.” The man gestured to you. “Have two point five kids. Live regular.”

Dean went to say something, but Sam leaned forward, his eyes serious. “Sir? We don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this.”

You turned to him skeptically, as did Dean. 

Mr. Cooper told the three of you to return in a few hours for training, which you were a little surprised by the suddenness of. 

“I guess they really are desperate,” you said as the three of you left the carnival holding your uniforms to go change into. 

“Were you serious?” Dean asked his brother.

“What?” Sam furrowed his brows at him.

“That whole, uh, I-don't-want-to-go-back-to-school thing. Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?” Dean pressed further at his younger brother’s hesitance. “Sam?” 

“I don't know,” he replied.

“You don't know? I thought that once the demon was dead, and the fat lady sings ,that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State,” Dean deadpanned.

“I'm having second thoughts,” was all the younger brother answered with.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think. Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job.”

Dean stopped Sam. “Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam.”

“Since he died, okay? Do you have a problem with that?”

Dean’s voice hardened but remained sarcastic. “Naw, I don't have a problem at all.”

***

Later that day, you returned with the boys wearing a bright red “Cooper Carnival” jacket to begin your “janitorial job.” You were waiting for Sam or Dean to call you to tell you when to meet up with them for further investigation.

Before you had gotten a call from either, you noticed a little girl tugging on her mother’s jacket. “Mommy, look at the clown!” She pointed at something off in the distance. 

You followed her line of sight only to see nothing.

“What clown?” the mother asked. “Come on, sweetie, come on.”

You called Sam immediately. “Hey, dude. I got something.”

***

The three of you then chose to stake out the family’s home that evening. Dean had just relayed to you how the blind man overheard him calling Sam about the case and had to tell him you three were writing a book about the supernatural.

“Dean, I cannot believe you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown,” Sam snorted.

“I told him an urban legend about a homicidal phantom clown. I never said it was real,” Dean argued. He pulled a gun and cocked it. You jumped over the seat and shoved his arm down. “What are you, nuts? You’re gonna get us busted.”

“Oh, and get this,” Dean continued. “I mentioned the Bunker Brother's Circus in '81 and their, uh, evil clown apocalypse? Guess what.”

“What?” you and Sam asked.

“Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager.”

“So you think whatever the spirit's attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?” Sam questioned.

“Something like that.” The older brother shook his head and sighed. “I can't believe we keep talking about clowns.”

***

You and the Winchesters had been stalking these poor people’s home for hours now. Well, you and Sam had, at least. Dean, on the other hand, was dozing in the front seat. You shook him awake when you saw a phantom clown appear at the front door.

“Dee, look,” you said. 

He hummed and sat up, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. He turned and looked at you when he saw the girl leading the clown inside. 

You jumped out of the car and went through the back entrance of the house. You hid around a corner down the hallway from where the little girl and the clown were.

“Wanna see Mommy and Daddy? They're upstairs,” you heard the girl say. At that moment, Sam leapt out and grabbed the young girl who screamed.

Simultaneously, you shot at the clown while Dean cocked his shotgun again. “Sam, watch out!” he yelled. 

The clown leapt out the window, turning invisible as it shattered the glass of the front door.

The parents ran downstairs and began shouting at you and the brothers. You and the brothers dropped the girl and sprinted away, hearing the girl whine, “ Mommy, Daddy, they shot my clown!” as you headed out.

***

A while later, you and the brothers pulled off the side of the road and ditched the crappy van Dean had been driving you around in. You pulled the license plate off the back of the van and stuffed it in your duffel bag.

“You really think they saw our plates?” Sam asked you.

“I’m not taking any chances,” you said.

“I hate this fuckin’ thing anyway,” Dean grumbled. He began to lead you and his brother off the side of the road. “Well, one thing's for sure.”

“What?” you asked.

“We're not dealing with a spirit. I mean, that rock salt hit something solid,” Dean responded.

“Yeah, a person? Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?” Sam suggested.

“I don’t know, man, I’ve never heard of a creature like that. And it’s definitely not a person. I have no idea what the hell it could be,” you huffed.

“Did it say anything in Dad's journal?” Dean asked.

Sam cleared his throat and said, “Nope,” pulling out his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?” you asked him.

“Maybe Ellen or that guy Ash'll know something. Hey, you think, uh, you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?” Sam smirked.

“No way,” snorted Dean.

“Then why didn't he tell us about her?” retorted Sam.

“I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out,” the older brother shrugged.

“Yeah. You ever notice Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?”

You chuckled, but Dean simply nodded and looked at the floor. 

Sam lowered his phone. “Well, don't get all maudlin on me, man.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean this ‘strong silent’ thing of yours, it's crap,” Sam answered.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, god.”

“I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man.”

Dean started walking a little faster. “You know what, back off, alright? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to.”

Sam caught up with his brother easily. “No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay.”

“Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay, okay? I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me!” the older Winchester said gruffly.

“What are you talking about?” Sam questioned.

“I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't, it's too little, too late.”

“Why are you saying this to me?”

“Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death! Are you?”

You looked between the boys and knew Dean was handing Sam a load of bullshit. However, you decided to stow that conversation until you could get him in private.

Sam swallowed harshly, looking upset. “I'm going to call Ellen.” Sam walked a little ahead of you and Dean on the phone.

While Sam spoke to Ellen, you walked beside Dean wordlessly.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to act like I’m a bomb about to go off,” Dean said.

You looked up at him. “I’m not. I just thought you’d appreciate a little silence instead of me asking you to ‘share and care,’ as you put it.”

He nodded. “Thanks.” He intertwined his fingers with yours, allowing you to support him in that simple way. He rubbed his thumb over yours and continued to walk next to you. 

When Sam got off the phone, he turned back to you and his brother. “Wha—” He looked down at yours and Dean’s entwined hands and shook his head. “Nevermind. Rakshasa.”

“What's that?” Dean asked.

“Ellen's best guess. It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited,” Sam explained.

“So they dress up like clowns, and the children invite 'em in. Why don't they just munch on the kids?”

“No idea. Not enough meat on the bones, maybe?”

“Well, that’s grotesque,” you noted.

“What else'd you find out?” Dean questioned.

“Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects.” The younger brother grimaced.

“Nice,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah, and they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years. Slow metabolism, I guess.”

“Well, that makes sense. I mean, the Carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81—”

Sam cut his brother off. “Right. Probably more before that.”

“Who do we know that worked both shows?” You raised a brow.

“Cooper?” Sam replied.

“Yup.” You thought for a moment. “That picture of his father looked just like him. Maybe it was him.”

“Well, who knows how old he is?” Sam added.

“Ellen say how to kill him?” Dean asked.

“Legend goes, a dagger made of pure brass,” the brunet explained.

“I think I know where to get one of those.”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Before we go stabbing Cooper, I wanna make damn sure it’s him.”

“Oh, you're such a stickler for details, sweetheart,” the older Winchester teased you. “Alright, I'll round up the blade, you two go check if Cooper's got bed bugs.”

***

You and Sam followed instructions and went to Mr. Cooper’s trailer. Dean had left the two of you to go find the blind man. Inside the trailer, you didn’t find any bugs he was nesting on. Just a plain, old twin mattress. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” a voice called from behind you.

You wheeled around to see Mr. Cooper. “Oh, hi! Just the guy I wanted to—”

“Save it,” Mr. Cooper told you. “Get the hell out of here. Oh, and uh, you’re fired.”

You nodded. “I figured.”

You and Sam dashed out of Mr. Cooper’s trailer and over to where Dean had told you he’d be. When you arrived at the blind man’s tent, Dean stumbled out of the door.

“Holy shit, hey,” you said after he’d scared you.

“Hey.”

“So, Cooper thinks we’re Peeping Toms, but it's not him,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, so I gathered. It's the blind guy. He's here somewhere.”

“Well, did you get the—”

“The brass blades? No. No, it's just been one of those days,” Dean sarcastically replied. 

“I got an idea. Come on,” Sam said. You and Dean followed him to the funhouse. As you began to go through, the door slammed behind you between you and the brothers.

“Great!” you groaned. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean yelled, banging on the door. 

“(Y/N)! (Y/N/N), find the maze, okay?” Sam called to you.

“Okay!” you called back. You somehow stumbled your way through the maze and found the brothers. “Oh, thank god,” you sighed.

Sam broke a pipe off the organ a bit ahead of you. 

“Where is it?” you asked.

“I don't know, I mean, shouldn't we see its clothes walking around?” Dean answered. A knife flew right past your head, clipping your ear. “Fuck!”

“(Y/N)!” Sam called. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know, Sam, the thing’s invisible!” You jumped up, reached above your head, and grabbed a lever. When you pulled it down, steam poured out of the vent. 

“Sam, behind you! Behind you!” you heard Dean say. You began to run in the direction of Dean’s voice through the steam. When you arrived at him, there was a bloodied lump of clothes on the ground with a pipe sticking out from its chest. You turned to Dean who was pinned to the wall by two knives on his arm and helped him free himself.

“You okay?” he asked you. 

You nodded as you pulled the last knife out of his jacket.

“I hate funhouses,” he grumbled.

***

You sat next to Dean at Ellen’s bar, and she laid a few beers in front of you. “You kids did a hell of a job.” Ellen nodded at the brothers. “Your dad 'd be proud.”

Sam half-smiled. “Thanks.” He got up to walk over to Ash, and Jo took his place.

“So,” she cleared her throat.

‘Damn, this girl is bold,’ you thought.

“So,” you said.

She ignored you and focused on Dean. “Am I gonna see you again?”

Dean turned to her, surprised. “Do you want to?”

“I wouldn't hate it.”

You rolled your eyes and got up from your chair, heading over to Sam and Ash. You could feel Dean’s eyes on you as you walked away. You knew you had no reason to treat Jo poorly; she was just a young girl with a crush. She had no idea that you and Dean were at all involved. You truly didn’t even know if you and Dean were legitimately involved to begin with.

You noted Ash’s bizarre-looking laptop with exposed wiring and his stack of papers. “Whatcha got there, Pinky?”

He snorted at you. “I’d say I’m a little more Brain than anything, but where ya been? Been waitin’ for ya.”

“What, Ellen didn’t tell you about the clowns?” you asked.

“Clowns? What the fuck—”

You snickered as Dean walked up behind you. “You got something for us, Ash?”

“You find the demon?” Sam questioned.

Ash shook his head. “It's nowhere around. At least, nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like Divine on dog dookie.”

You laughed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world, my rig'll go off. Like a fire alarm.”

Dean reached for his laptop. “Do you mind…?”

Ash gave him a look, and Dean pulled his hand back from the keyboard. 

You smirked a little at the sight. “Ash, where did you learn to do all this?”

“M.I.T. Before I got bounced for... fighting.”

“No way!” you exclaimed.

He smirked at you and took a sip of his beer. 

“Okay. Give us a call as soon as you know something?” Dean said, suggesting to you and Sam it was time to go.

“Si, si, compadre.” Ash took the beer Dean had placed down and chugged the rest of it. 

You followed the brothers to the door. Ellen stopped you before you could leave. “Hey, listen— if you kids need a place to stay I've got a couple beds out back.”

“Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish,” Dean said.

***

“So, you get Jo’s number?” you asked back at Bobby’s junkyard. You sat cross-legged on the hood of one of the cars next to the Impala Dean was working on drinking a beer.

“What?” he asked incredulously. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, she obviously likes you. Kid was shamelessly flirting with you, so I just assumed—”

“No, (Y/N).” He put down the wrench he was holding. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, okay, I just thought—”

He walked over to you and stood between your knees. He ran his hands up and down your thighs. “I’m telling you, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Dean, stop it. You don’t have to come over here and flirt with me just ‘cause I got jealous” you said. 

“I’m not,” he assured you. “Look, we haven’t had a chance to talk about everything—”

“And I don’t need us to. I know you need time after your dad—”

“Would you let me finish?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you muttered. 

“But I have no interest in Jo. She’s layin’ it on a little too thick for my taste,” he smirked.

"I don't know, Dean, your bar hookups always lay it on pretty thick," you reminded him.

"Yeah, guess you're right. But she's not you. So I'm not interested."

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go get some more beer. You want one?”

He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

You headed back inside and passed Sam on the way. You found Bobby inside and began to update him on the situation with the brothers.

“I don’t know, Bobby, neither of them are doing well,” you said. “But it’s Dean I’m the most worried about.”

“Why’s that?” the older man asked.

“He’s just… bottling it up. He wouldn’t even let me sit next to him while he worked on his car for the first week we were here. He’s worrying me.”

“Sounds like Dean,” Bobby nodded. “But I think if anybody can get ‘im to open up, it’s gonna be you.”

You eyed him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s just… different with you. I think he puts up a bit of a front with Sam. But never with you.”

You nodded. “I’ll keep trying.” You grabbed two beers and again passed Sam as he came back into the house with tears in his eyes. As you approached Dean’s car, you heard slamming metal on metal and Dean grunting. You quickened your step to get to him, holding a beer in each hand. When you arrived, you saw him hitting the Impala’s trunk with a crowbar over and over again.

“Dean, what the f—”

He looked up at you and fought back tears. You put the beers on the car behind you and slowly approached him. You opened your arms to him and wrapped them around his torso, and he finally responded by burying his face in your hair. You could feel him still trying to stifle his tears, but it was clear he was unsuccessful. You let him hug you for as long as he needed to.

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

[w2soneshots]

The uncles -Miniminter

words: 1.3k+

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of birth.

summary: your and Simon’s journey to becoming parents: finding out, telling the boys, the gender reveal and welcoming your little baby into the world.

notes: hello loves! Here’s the request🫶🏼. Sorry for the lack of posts recently but this is a long one so I hope you enjoy!!🧸💓

I've known the sidemen for years. And I've been in there videos since they first started out. That's how I met Simon, we were just friends at first but eventually we started dating. We got married a few years later and we started trying for a baby four months ago. We knew it probably wouldn't happen straight away but I was starting to get a little worried, until the other day I took a test and it came back positive.

Today I'm telling Simon. I had to wait a few days since he was away for a sidemen video, which was torture but it gave me time to think of a cute way to do it. I decided that I was going to make a cute present containing some little ugg boots, a baby grow and the pregnancy test.

I placed the box on the kitchen counter then waited for Simon to arrive home. "5 minutes away x" he text me and my heart rate sped up. After the longest five minutes of my life he finally walked through our front door.

"Hi!" I smiled as we shared a tight hug. "I missed you." He whispered into my hair. "I missed you too. I have a surprise." His brows furrowed. "Come." I led him over to the kitchen, pointing to the little box. We sat down and he slowly opened it. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as he stared at the contents. "You're- oh my god!" A bright smile graced his features as he stood to pull me into a hug. "I'm gonna be a dad!" I could hear in his voice that he was getting choked up, which was very rare since he never cries. "Yes you are." I replied, my heart filled with pure happiness.

The next few weeks were... tough. I had awful morning sickness and felt terrible all of the time. Simon did as much as he could to be supportive and look after me but there wasn't much he could actually do. We were also trying to keep the fact that I was pregnant a secret until twelve weeks but it was proving quite difficult.

When it finally came time to tell everyone I felt relieved that I wouldn't have to hide it any longer and also so excited that we could finally share the amazing news with our favourite people. Faith and Ethan were the first to find out since I had bumped into them at the hospital while leaving an ultrasound (that unfortunately Simon couldn't be at). They were there with Olive for a check up and I didn't really have an excuse so I just told them. Faith practically screamed as she pulled me into a tight hug. Ethan was just as happy.

Simon was a little bummed that he didn't get to see their reactions but he understood why. Next up was the rest of the boys and the side girls. We decided to do them all in one go so we arranged a little get together to surprise them.

After buying food, cleaning the downstairs and making a playlist I got ready. Simon ran out to get a few last minute things while I took a shower, styled my hair, applied some makeup and got changed into a cute outfit. I only had a small bump as of yet so thankfully that wouldn't ruin the surprise.

As people started to arrive I greeted them and led them towards the living room. Soon everyone was here and it was time. "Ready?" I asked Simon, whispering into his ear. "Yeah." He smiled back at me. I took a deep breath. "We have a little surprise for you all!" I announced. I saw Faith's face immediately light up. "I'm pregnant!"

Cheers filled the room as Freya began crying, JJ practically jumped onto Simon and Ethan proudly bragged to Harry about the fact he already knew. As everyone calmed down they all congratulated us. The party was amazing, the vibes were impeccable and we all had a great time.

As my bump began to grow and people were starting to suspect us on instagram we decided it was time to tell the fans. We announced it with a mirror selfie of me and Simon in our bedroom. He had on his best thumbnail face and I downed a bright smile. He held the most recent ultrasound photo in his hand. Both of us dressed in comfy clothes, my sweatpants placed underneath my bump. The internet went crazy.

Just a week before the gender reveal the baby began kicking. It was a lovely moment. It happened just as I was about to fall asleep. Simon's hand placed comfortably on my bump as we lay in a comfortable silence. Then I felt it, it was strange but so comforting, I knew he or she was ok. We'd been expecting it since the doctor had told us that it would happen soon at our last appointment. "Simon," I turned around in his arms. "I think the baby just kicked!" I whisper shouted. His eyes widened, hands immediately on my stomach. Kick. He looked up at me with pure adoration.

We wanted to find out the gender in a fun way so we decided on a balloon pop; simple but cute. We had a company come round to set up a balloon arch with different sized pink and blue balloons but Faith and Freya helped me to decorate the rest our garden. It looked so cute by the end. It was just going to be mine and Simon's closet family along with the troops and their girlfriends.

Me and Simon both dressed in white, everyone else wore whatever they wanted but most of them wore ether blue or pink depending on what they thought the gender would be. I was fully convinced that it was a boy but Simon thought that it was a girl, nether of us really minded though.

My heart raced as we stood in front of everyone. Simon holding the balloon while I held a needle. Everyone counted down, "5! 4! 3! 2! 1!" I popped the ballon and blue confetti filled the air. Simon pulled me in a warm embrace, my eyes began to stream and the boys jumped around excitedly. "I knew it man! I called it!" JJ shouted. "I was right." I whispered into Simon's ear with a sniffle. "You always are."

The pregnancy flew by and soon I felt like a whale out of water, I was uncomfortable and just wanted to meet our baby boy. We'd finished the nursery and all of the baby shopping, we were now just waiting.

"Simon! Simon wake up!" I shook my boyfriend awake. He shot up. "Wha- what's wrong?!" He panicked. "My water broke!" I said with a smile. I wasn't stressed at all, just excited. Simon on the other hand was a mess. He was frantically running around our home trying to get himself ready. I calmly got dressed then sat on the couch next to the pre packed hospital bag. "Ok, let's go!" He grabbed the bag then helped me up.

Just a few hours later I held our baby in my arms. Thankfully the labour was quick and after getting an epidural I absolutely fine, well other than the fact I had to push a human out of me. None of it mattered now though because me and the baby were both fine and healthy.

A week later -after I had mostly recovered- the boys came round to meet Louie (which is the name we chose). "Oh my god! He's so cute," Faith gushed as she held Louie. "We're gonna need to make another one of these asap." She turned to Ethan. His eyes widened. I chuckled. "Ok, My turn!" JJ shuffled so he was straight in his chair, placing his arms out ready. Faith passed the baby over.

Everyone one got a turn. While me and the girls chatted, the boys playfully argued over who was the best uncle. Though they're all equally as amazing as each other.

[smoooothoperator]

untouchable

18: Run Boy Run

Lando Norris x OC (Violet Sinclair)

same group friend, unrequited love, acquittances to lovers, ski trip, love triangle, life as lovers

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: fluff, races

a/n: next chapter is THE chapter!!!!! and of course I had to be a little delulu with this chapter

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Outfit? Check.

Make up? Check.

Bag? Check.

Phone… Oh, where did I leave it?

“Violet, keep calm” Lando chuckled, following me with eyes, watching how I walked around the hotel room.

“I can't find my phone!” I groaned, moving the cushions of the bed.

“Here” he smiled, grabbing it from God knows where. “Why are you nervous?”

I took a deep breath and looked at him, biting my lip, chewing it until I remembered I was wearing lipstick on it.

Why am I nervous? Maybe because of the fact that this will be the first time I'll be seen in the paddock, something who shall not be named really avoided the last few years. And not only that, this will be my first time walking with him in a place where we know there will be photographers. 

“I just… I don't know, what if I fall or something like that in front of every photographer? Then they will take pictures of that and I will be all over the internet” I said. “And not only that! Look at my outfit! And my bag! This is not sponsored or from a luxury brand! I bought this on Zara!”

“And you look absolutely gorgeous in this dress” he said, placing his hand on my shoulders and squeezing them softly, rubbing his thumbs on my skin. “Take a deep breath, okay? You are not going to fall because I'll be holding your hand all the time”

“You promise?”

“I promise” he smiled, pecking my lips softly.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around him and leaning on his body. 

The last few weeks were hard for me. After knowing what happened with Eloise, it was hard for me to move on. At first I was mad, with myself and with her, because I felt betrayed and somehow I was disappointed with myself because I couldn't reach her before what happened. I couldn't understand how that happened, how none of her family or mine called me. They knew I loved Eloise like a sister, and still no one told me. 

I was betrayed by my own family. How am I supposed to feel about that? How am I supposed to face them after that?

Lando stayed with me as much as he could while he had free time from his duties, and when he couldn't be with me, he ma onde sure that Pietra came to my home to make sure I wasn't alone. 

But it felt weird. I was heartbroken, but I didn't cry. And it made me feel disappointed with myself, because I felt that I wasn't grieving her, not how she deserves.

“Are you sure it's only that?” he whispered against my hair. 

“You know the answer…”

“I just want to know if you are okay, Violet…” he sighed. “I still remember what you said to me, that you are scared of getting in the car. But I wanted you to remember my promise, hm?”

“I know… it's your job, you have to do it anyway” I sighed. 

“You won't get rid of me that easily” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

I smile and close my eyes, kissing the skin of his neck softly and taking a deep breath of his perfume.

“Come on”

I took a deep breath and grabbed my bag, hanging it on my shoulder and walking out of the hotel room with him. I wasn't used to the fancy treatment, of staying in a Hilton hotel, sitting on a McLaren and arriving at a place where everyone has something higher that 100€ on their outfit. It was overwhelming, somehow, watching supercars driving near us, hearing the engine of the cars driving through the parking lot. 

“Today I have to record things for the media, if you want, you can stay in the hospitality and do some work” he said looking at me, placing his hand on my thigh and squeezing it softly. 

I nodded and smiled, placing my hand on top of his. His touch is always gentle, even on bed. He always holds me, letting me know he's there. He always needs to have a hand on me whenever I'm close and sometimes I find him doing it whenever he feels anxious. 

“Oh, sure. I was going to catch up a little with the girls. They said something about having a little brunch date” I said chuckling, watching him smile and nod.

When he parked his car I felt his hand squeezing my thigh three times, rubbing his thumb on my skin. I looked at him and smiled, leaning closer and kissing his cheek.

“Ready?” he asked. “Stay close to me, okay? Don't let go my hand”

“As if I was going to” I joked, rolling my eyes.

When we got out of the car he immediately walked towards me, holding my hand and guiding me.

I have been in the paddock before, I was in one a month ago while I went with him to the testing of the new car. But somehow, this time it felt completely different. Walking hand in hand with him, hearing the people chorus his name and mine, calling us… it felt way more different.

“You can go take pictures if you want” I said, watching how some of the people behind the barriers were calling him.

“You sure?” he smiled weakly, making me nod and receive a kiss on my cheek before he walked away.

I saw him taking pictures with them, talking with them and even grabbing the gifts they had for him. I was so proud of him, of who he is, of what he achieves every time he comes to the paddock.

“Let's go” he smiled, holding my hand and walking towards the scanners.

“What did they give you?” I asked him, looking at what he was holding with his other hand.

“Oh, I think some bracelets as always” he smiled. “They just make them for me, it's like the ones they exchange on those Taylor Swift's concerts”

“That's cute” I laugh softly.

“I have a lot of them back in Monaco” he laughed. 

I smile looking at him, scanning my ID pass after him. I looked around, smiling. This is a whole different thing, a whole different world. 

I once brought him to my work and to my world, and now he is the one that is bringing me to his job.

His smile immediately changed the moment he heard the mechanics building the cars, when he recognized the people from every team. And the moment he held my hand tight made my smile look like his.

When people walked towards us and he introduced me to them as his partner, I could help but feel the pride in his voice. He placed his arm around my waist and then his hand on my hip, pulling me close to him, rubbing his thumb over my skin to keep me calm.

“So she is the famous Violet, hm?” I heard someone behind us.

“Hey, cabrón” Lando smiled, looking at his friend.

I smiled looking at him, watching how the Spaniard smiled and took a step closer to me, placing his hand on my shoulder and kissing my cheek two times.

“It's about damn time you two are together, huh?” he joked, teasing Lando. “How long did it take you? Years?”

“Ah, fuck off!” Lando groaned, pinching Carlos. 

I laughed softly, watching them talk, and never stopped feeling Lando's hand on my hip.

“Violet!”

I turned around, smiling when I recognized the sound of Lily's voice walking towards me next to Alex. I smiled looking at Lando, kissing his cheek before walking away towards Lily, hugging her.

“News fly around! You have a lot of things to tell us, hm?” she smirked, linking her arm with mine and walking. “Since when are you two dating?”

“Well, since Christmas actually” I smiled proudly, remembering that morning in his childhood room and how I confessed my love for him. “I think I had some kind of feelings for him after all. It was easy falling for him”

“Well, then I guess a brunch is a proper way to welcome you as a new wag” she said.

We walked towards the paddock club after showing our passes, going upstairs and being welcomed by a glass of mimosas.

“Finally!” Carmen laughed, walking towards me and hugging me. “George and I made a bet to see how long it took him to ask you out. I guess I owe him some money”

“No way” I laughed, shaking my head. “All of you knew?”

“It was pretty obvious” Lily said, shrugging her shoulders. “He even asked us recently for some tips for you so you could get used to this”

“I have to say that I was surprised by that, by the way” Carmen nodded. 

“Oh…” I smiled softly, blushing, about what we talked about after we made our relationship public.

“Yeah, true” Lily nodded. “He came to us in the last race of the season and told us his plan. It was pretty cute hearing him talk about what he planned for that ski trip and all”

“Well, I think it went according to his plan” I smiled. 

After all, he made me fall for him during the trip.

Standing inside the McLaren garage during the practices was something different to what it feels like during the qualifying.

During practice, the mechanics and engineers do everything they can to take every data possible during an hour, making the drivers come and go from the garage. It's noisy, hearing them change things to the car and put different tyres.

But during the qualifying you can feel the tension, the anxiety, the hunger of having a good position for the race.

Every move is crucial, every waste of fuel is important as well as the time they let the drivers get out of the garage.

“God, I'm feeling nauseous from the anxiety around the garage” I whispered to Lily, Oscar's girlfriend. “It’s always like this?”

“You'll get used to it” she chuckled. “They just want to do the best. You saw the results of the practices, they can be on top if they aim for it”

I nodded and smiled weakly, looking at the screens.

Yesterday, when we came back from the track after the practices, I met a new side of Lando. His position after the second practice, finishing last, because of a mistake he made. Somehow, even if he was conscious of how good the car was working, he was too hard on himself.

“I just hate it when I make mistakes and I know that I could do a better job” he sighed, laying on the bed looking at the ceiling. “The car was feeling good, this time I know we can have a good pace during the whole weekend… But the problem is who drives it”

“Hey, don't be too harsh on yourself” I sighed, sitting next to him and looking down into his eyes. “You are driving amazing, okay? This morning you just put the car on the top 3. What happened at the second practice was nothing bad, the team understood it and they didn't complain. You did a great job”

“I could have done a better job…” he sighed.

“And you will. Tomorrow is another day. You have another practice and then the quali” I smiled. “Everyone in the garage is happy with how the cars are doing, I can feel that. Just trust your guts, the car can take you where you want it to go”

After trying to put some hope and common sense in him last night, watching him reach the fifth position in the morning made me feel proud. It made me feel listened. 

The people inside the garage clapping made me smile, letting go of a breath I didn't know I was holding and clapping too, watching how the mechanics walked out to go to their cars.

Somehow I was lost, following Lily around, hoping that she knew what was coming next. We walked out of the garage through the corridor that goes to the paddock, waiting for Lando and Oscar to come to us.

Watching cameras around made me feel nervous, observes. I can't make mistakes, I shouldn't. I know I'm the new wag, everyone's eyes are on me. 

“Hey” I smile, watching him walk towards me with the upper half of his suit hanging around his hips.

“Hey, love” he smiled, letting go of the straw of his bottle. He smiled, placing his hand on my hip as I took a step closer to him, cupping his cheek with my hand.

“I'm so proud of you” I said, pressing my lips against his, feeling his smile grow. “You did an amazing job”

“Yeah, we are in a good place for tomorrow” he nodded, making me smile and kiss his cheek softly. “I'm so happy with it”

Watching his smile made me smile too, ignoring the flashes around us. Right, they search every little gesture to find mistakes and something to talk about.

“Tomorrow will be amazing, I'm sure” I whisper in his ear. 

I felt him smile, hugging me tighter and hiding his face on my neck. I felt him take deep breaths, leaning on me some seconds longer.

“I have to do interviews and briefing” he whispered. “Wait for me in my room, yeah?”

I smile and nod, cupping his cheek and kissing him again, tasting the salty flavor of his sweat again. I smiled and looked into his eyes when he ran his hand up my back, patting me three times before letting me go.

“Good results! Right, girls?” Zak said behind us, standing between Lily and I while watching both papaya drivers walk towards the media pen. “It's good to have lucky charms in the garage, huh?”

“Yeah” Lily and I laughed softly.

And somehow, what he said made me feel good, part of the team. And the results after every race indeed made me feel way more proud.

Both cars were going amazing in the races, staying in the top 10, bringing points and big smiles to the faces of every mechanic and engineer. 

I tried to go to every race to support him, to stand in the garage and be his lucky charm, to watch him drive even if my own heart beat at an unhealthy rhythm every time he drove close to a wall. But he always came back, he always came back to me after every race to hug me and kiss me, asking me to help him put the bracelet I gave him.

“Why don't you keep it during the races?” he asked, getting dressed in the room of Bahrain's paddock.

“Huh?” I frown, looking up from my phone, watching how he gave me the twin of the bracelet I have.

“We can make it our ritual” he said. “Kevin has his daughter who gives him the gloves and puts down his visor, Pierre has his girlfriend to kiss him on the helmet every time he gets in the car. Why don't we make this our thing?”

“That's cute” I chuckled, blushing. “So you want me to keep it everytime you go into the car and then put it on your bracelet when you come back?”

“Exactly!” he laughed. 

“Cameras will be recording us every time” I laughed, putting his bracelet next to mine. “We will give them a sugar rush”

“Do I look like I care?” he smirked. “Let's give the fans some material for their edits. I just want to come back to my girl, let them mind their own business”

Lando always told me that Austria was his favorite track of the calendar. He had his first podium here and he always had good results during that race, and since this season was giving him good results, he wanted the best in this track.

But even if he wanted it with all his heart, his self criticism was worse during this week. He was so hungry for the victory that he wasn't able to celebrate the good things, he only focused on every mistake he made.

“I just don't get it! I don't understand why the car is not doing what I want to do! And to make it worse, the FIA is being a pain in the ass with all those deleted times” he groaned, getting out of the car after the first practice. “If I wasn't that stupid, I could have been P1 on this practice!”

“Lando, come on” Max sighed. “It didn't only happen to you… And the results of this practice are not realistic, come on. They deleted so many times that the ones that stayed on the top 3 are old laps…”

“Exactly” I sighed, placing my hand on his arm. “Just look at the list, why would both Haas be first and second?”

“Because they didn't make mistakes like me” he groaned, grabbing his bottle of water and drinking it. “Whatever, I have to do interviews. See you later”

I sighed, watching how he followed his PR manager, not even kissing me before walking away. 

“He's too stressed” Max sighed, shaking his head. 

“And being too hard on himself” I said. “If he only saw the times… he did even a better time than Verstappen”

“Yeah, but you know him. He only focuses on what he does wrong” he sighed. “He can't enjoy the good results until he sees them”

The second practice didn't go better, at least not from his point of view. He had the pace, he was always leading the list. But only because of the track limits, his times got deleted. His engineer could feel how annoyed he was every time he told him that the time was deleted, and the mood in the garage wasn't better.

The rest of the day he was quiet, moody. He let Jon drive the car while he sat in the backseats with me. He ate dinner in silence, looking to a spot in the wall in front of him and blinking from time to time.

“Okay, this has to stop”

Lando looked at me, snapping out of his trance. Max took a deep breath and sighed, looking at both of us.

“Can the Lando I love come back?” I frowned looking at him. “Because right now, the one that is sitting next to me is someone I don't recognize”

“Violet…” Max sighed. “Not now…”

“Not now? Then when?” I frown, leaving the fork on the plate. 

“Okay, okay” Max sighed, raising his hands and sighing. “I think it's my time to go to my room”

I sighed, watching Max get up from the floor of our room and grab the plate with the food he ordered from room service. Lando was looking down at his own food, taking a deep breath.

“See you tomorrow” Max sighed, before closing the door behind him.

I took a deep breath and turned to face Lando. He was looking down at his hands, playing with his fingers.

“What is going on inside of this head?” I sighed, placing my hand on his nape, playing with his curls.

“I don't know” he sighed, and by the way he sighed I knew he was tired. “I just… It's like I'm losing control. I make mistake after mistake. I feel that I'm rolling down a hill and I can't stop it”

“You are just so deeply focused into the bad thoughts, Lando” I sighed, holding his hand. “Have you seen the screens with the data during the practice? I may not understand how it works, but I know that when the numbers are green and with a minus sign in front of the number it means that the times are good”

“But-”

“You were flying Lando” I said. “I came to all the races, and I swear this is the first one I saw that you were faster than Verstappen!”

“But I still get out of the track” he sighed.

“And that's something you can fix! Tomorrow you have the last practice. You know your weak spots in this track, you know you can be on pole, but you can see it just yet” I said, holding his hands. “I believe in you, Lando. I really think you have a chance. Just please, believe in it too”

I don't know if my speech worked, but the next day during the last practice he was more talkative with his engineers, and he tried everything to be inside of the track. In fact, he had good times and barely got them deleted, making him be first at the end of the practice.

But then quali came. 

“Now should be the right time to pray” Max sighed next to me. 

“Oh believe, I'm praying to every God I know to make him be on pole” I whisper. “And to make Verstappen stay away from him”

“Naughty girl!” Max laughed. 

“I just want him to make a mistake! For once! It's not much to ask” I laughed softly.

Everyone was tense, hoping that both papaya drivers escaped the sensors of the FIA. No one wanted to clap or celebrate, not wanting to jinx anything. And when the time for the Q1 ended and both of the McLaren drivers stayed out of the elimination zone, everyone relaxed for a little amount of time. And it happened again during Q2, watching the cars drive fast and barely getting out of the track, not crossing the limits.

“Looks like whatever you talked with him about worked a little” Max whispered leaning on me. “How did you do that?”

“My charm” I smirked slightly. “And a promise of something you don't want to know about”

“Wha- Ew gross!” he gasped when he saw my smirk.

I shook my head and laughed softly, focusing again on the screens, watching Lando's untouchable time staying on top of everyone's.

He can do it. He can have a pole.

“Come on, come on…” Max and I prayed, holding each other's hand and holding our breaths, waiting for the last of the top ten to make his lap. 

And then it happened. 

The garage exploded with people clapping, cheering. I hugged Max and jumped with bim, celebrating that he finally did it. Everyone ran to receive him, to watch him get out of the car and celebrate his pole. I went there, grabbing the bracelet and having it ready in my hand to put it around his wrist.

“I did it!” Lando gasped, walking towards the team and towards me, holding my cheeks with his hand. 

“I didn't want to say it, but… Told ya” I laughed, watching him shake his head.

That was just the beginning.

Next day. Race day. 

Having pole position changed his mood for better, and somehow I could feel it with how he woke up. 

Normally, during races, he's grumpy the moment the alarm starts. He groans and holds me tighter, hiding his face on my nape. 

But today he woke up with a smile, pressing soft kisses on my shoulder as well as rubbing my stomach softly.

“Morning” I whisper, smiling. “Ready for today?”

“Oh yeah” he said, smiling. “Thank you”

“Hm? Why?” I frown, turning around and looking at him.

“Because you are always putting me in place” he sighed. “Always making me come back to Earth when I'm being an immature idiot”

“You are too harsh on yourself, Lando” I sighed. “Look what you can do when you believe in yourself! You've got a pole! You have a chance of winning this race, I believe in you”

“Thank you, baby” he smiled, kissing my forehead.

The moment we walked through the paddock everyone wanted Lando's attention, everyone wanted a picture with him. Everyone was congratulating him, patting his back and wishing him the best of luck.

“I think I won't need it, I have my lucky charm in the garage” he always said.

Time went fast, and before I knew it I was standing next to Max in the garage, watching the screens and waiting for the countdown to end, watching how Lando stopped the car after the formation lap, waiting for the lights to go off.

“He can do it, right?” I whisper.

“He has high possibilities” Max nodded. “If he has a good start he can keep the position. Max is away, even if his car is fast he has to overtake most of the other cars. And behind Lando is Oscar, as well as Lewis and Fernando. They are good with defense”

“But still, he can't relax” I sighed.

“He won't, I bet”

The race was hard. 71 laps of pure tension. Every movement was important, this time more than ever. The pit stops had to be fast, the overtakes, the defenses. Everyone in the garage was in silence, focused on the papaya car leading the race and the one following it. 

“God, I need to pee” I mumbled, not taking my eyes away from the screens.

“Go, I'll tell you if something happened while you are there” Max said, nudging my side with his elbow.

I took a deep breath and nod, walking to Lando's room and getting in the bathroom. I grabbed my phone, going through the messages and sighing when I saw the same notification as always.

Missed calls from unknowns (6)

I sigh, shaking my head and blocking those numbers again. Same as always. Maybe those are some spam calls.

When I came back next to Max there were only 5 laps left. And Lando was still leading.

“He will do it, right?” I said, taking a deep breath. 

“Oh yes” he smirked. 

It was happening. It was finally happening. I saw the mechanics getting up from the chairs, running to the wall when the last lap started, waiting to celebrate with him.

“Violet!” I heard Zak call me. “You want to come say something?”

“Can I?” I gasped, looking at him and then at Max.

He nodded and I just walked towards the engineers wall, connecting my headset and waiting for Lando to cross the finish line.

“Lando Norris, you are a race winner!” I exclaimed, feeling tears in my eyes when I heard his cries. 

“Violet? Is that you?”

“You did it! Baby, you did it! I'm so so proud”

“Oh I'm going to cry more!” he laughed. “We did it! God! I love you!”

When he parked the car behind the 1 he got out of the car, standing on top of the halo. Every crew member of McLaren was there, cheering, screaming. 

He did it. He won a race!

“Violet!” I heard him scream, jumping out of the car and running towards me, taking off his helmet. “I did it! Oh my God!”

“You did it!” I giggle, cupping his cheeks and wiping away the little tears. 

“I'm going to kiss you” he laughed, pulling me closer to him and pressing his lips on mine. “God, I love you so fucking much”

Without Eloise in the picture he knew he only had one person left.

He tried to come up with a plan, something that can eliminate him forever, making sure that Violet will be only his.

During his walks around her neighborhood, he discovered that they are living together. He saw his car parked in front of the building. He saw their figures dancing in front of the window. He saw them having dinner on the small balcony during hot days of spring. And now both of them were in every post about his win, with pictures of him kissing her after he got out of the car.

What did she see in him? He has to free her. He has to make sure she's safe and out of whatever spell he put on her.

And that's what he's going to do.

He recognized one of Lando's cars in front of the building, his Audi RSQ8. He always hated the amount of cars he had, how careless he was buying one whenever he wanted like he was buying new clothes. 

He considered many options, but the one that worked before was the winner: manipulate the brakes.

It was easy, he did it with Eloise's car and the results were impressive, with her losing control of the car thanks to the frozen road and then trying to brake when she saw she lost control of the car. 

Why not try it again? Maybe he can make Lando lose control while he drives. And the funniest part of it? That it goes slowly, barely noticeable, like a slow and agonizing death. 

He only has to wait. 

Wait and see the results of his masterpiece.

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[plscallmeeren]

A M E R I C A N W O M A N

Jennifer Walters x Reader

Request: Yes

Summary: you (fem reader) love to cook and spoil your girlfriend (Jen). This was a short one sorry :/ have been very busy (six weeks traveling India there's a lot to see)

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 600+

You hummed along to 'Glass Onion', singing a few words every now and then when you were sure about what they were. The rice boiled over while you were distractedly peeling tomatoes. "Fuck," you murmured, turning that stove off and wiping away some of the water.

I told you 'bout the fool on the hill, Lennon sang - you thought it was him - instantly making overcooked rice seem inconsequential as you joined in again. The song came to a close as you poured the tomatoes into the pot.

Kadhai Paneer was one of Jennifer's favourite curries, one you loved cooking for her whenever you had time. 'Lucifer Sam' by Pink Floyd blasted through your speakers and you whirled around dramatically when the lyrics began.

Keys rattled in the door and you jumped to attention, cursing under your breath. You knew you should have started earlier.

Before you knew it, Jen's steps were dragging through the apartment, tired eyes scanning the kitchen. She was obviously exhausted from a long day at work, but she smiled nonetheless. "You cooked again? What is that, it smells great... wait." She looked at you seriously. "You didn't."

"I did." You grinned, turning the music down a bit and rounding the counter to peck her on the lips. "Kadhai Paneer, dal, chapatis." You kissed her again, this time on her forehead. "You look beautiful. And tired."

"Such a sweet-talking devil," she cooed, laying her arms around your neck. "Can I help somehow?"

"Forget it. Lie down on the couch and rest. You're my hardworking American woman, after all." You smirked, hearing the song switch to 'American Woman' by Muddy Magnolias. "Do I look like, the step all over me type? I'm a whole lotta grown-ass American woman!"

Jen laughed, pressing her face against your shoulder. "Please don't turn the music down. I'll just watch you from the other side of the kitchen like some creep, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of having it any other way," you said defiantly, leading her groggy form to the couch so she could collapse onto the plush seating. You gently massaged her shoulders just long enough so that she would relax with a great heaving sigh.

She lay splayed in a star shape, eyes on you relentlessly. Every now and then they fell closed by accident, but mostly her smile infected all her expression.

You waltzed back to the kitchen, spooning the rice and dal into separate bowls, head nodding. She chuckled as you put on a bit of a show, twirling and swaying as you set down plates and cutlery.

Next, your playlist treated you with another Pink Floyd, but a slow one. You calmed your movements somewhat, taking strides that matched the melody as you finally turned the last stove off.

Long you live and high you'll fly

Smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry

And all you touch and all you see

Is all your life will ever be

"I don't know this one," Jen breathed, sitting up slowly, "but it's moving."

"Yeah, I think so," you whispered, sitting down and serving both your plates. "Makes you think, anyway."

Jennifer smiled, sat across. "Thank you for doing this. Now, but also in general. I don't know whether I show my gratitude enough."

"Save your good words for work," you laughed. "I love doing things for you. And if food makes you happy, then food it is."

"Food definitely makes me happy."

"Why, marvelous." She actually giggled, and you had to stop yourself from kissing her over the table. "Bon appetit."

"Right back at you. You're a great dancer, by the way."

"I know," you said smugly, but your insides went all warm and fuzzy anyway.

Jen had some spoonfuls before scooping with her chapati hurriedly. "Oh my God, this is good."

"Always the tone of surprise." She stopped, tilted her head with a look that said 'really?' in a board sort of voice. You loved that look.

[czenzo]

Watch Out for Skull – Chapter 3

[ao3] chapter links: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

summary: Lucy takes on a cat-sitting job for a stranger, hoping for a quiet week in a nice London flat, with free food, no bills, and enough time to finish an art commission. But the cat is a menace, and the stranger’s friend is ridiculously charming—and a huge distraction.

words: 2,416 rating: T

“Stop crying at the door, I’m not letting you out!”

Skull responded with another indignant meow.

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Lucy muttered as she pressed her brush against the canvas.

George’s bedroom was far from the most glamorous place she’d ever painted in, but it did the job. She’d wrapped the comics on his nightstand in cling film, just in case, and positioned her canvas as far from the bookshelf as possible. She had everything she needed to finally get this commission done.

If only that damn cat would stop skriking.

Lucy flinched mid-brush stroke as he let out another howl. “Why are you only this noisy with me?” she bemoaned, letting the brush clatter onto her palette and running a hand through her hair. She took a step back to assess her progress. It was coming along for certain, but something felt… missing. Lucy tilted her head, narrowed her eyes, and picked at the tender skin on her lips (a habit Holly truly despised), but was still no closer to figuring out the missing piece.

Skull cried out again.

Lucy rolled her eyes and left the bedroom, pressing pause on the playlist that had been keeping her company. “Will a treat keep you quiet? Hm?”

She interpreted the responding noise as an affirmative. As she rummaged in the kitchen, there came a knock at the door, and Skull’s latest meow was cut short as he fell into sudden silence. Lucy still gave him a few treats before answering the knock; she couldn’t deny that the way his ears perked at the rustling treat pouch was endearing.

Upon opening the door, she had to crane her neck upwards and was greeted with a gleaming smile.

“Hello,” Lucy said, though it came out like a question. The sound of Skull approaching from behind didn’t escape her notice; she shifted her legs to block the opening as well as she could.

“Hi,” Lockwood said, beaming. “I hear there’s another good whale programme airing today. Thought I’d come round, make sure you didn’t miss it.”

“So chivalry isn’t dead,” she said with a small smile before ushering him inside. He pried off his shoes and hung his coat on the wall before drifting into the kitchen after her. Skull silently wandered off in the opposite direction.

“Tea?” she called over her shoulder.

“Always,” he replied. “Thank you.” He reached over her to the highest shelf of mugs, retrieving a large one with a giraffe’s neck spanning the whole circumference.

Lucy huffed a laugh, and he cast her a sidelong look. “Are you judging my choice of mug?”

“Me? Never,” she said, grabbing one with a swirling pattern that reminded her of The Starry Night.

“Sometimes the key to surviving a Monday is simply drinking good tea from a good mug, I stand by that.”

As she spooned in the sugar (one for her, one and a dash of honey for Lockwood) and waited for the kettle to finish boiling, she glanced up at him with the quirk of a brow. “What are you doing here on a Monday? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He leaned against the counter, arms folded across a jumper that—and now, Lucy was no fashion expert, but had gained some knowledge via osmosis from living with Holly—looked remarkably like cashmere, or some other material that was most certainly not cheap. At the very least, she'd never seen it while perusing the clothes aisles in the local supermarkets. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she said slowly, “most people work on weekdays.”

Lockwood gave a vague wave of his hand. “I have my own way of doing things.”

Lucy’s grip went slack; the spoon clattered into one of the mugs. “You’re filthy rich, aren’t you?”

His face contorted, conflict visible in every wrinkle. “Well, I wouldn’t say—”

“I knew Holly went to school with some well-off people, but I never expected to meet one.” Then, almost as an afterthought: “I didn’t expect one to act like this.”

Whatever Lockwood was initially going to reply with was cut short by her last remark; he tilted his head and frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re not…” She filled the mugs and stirred as she searched for the right words. “A dick? You don’t reek of privilege, or anything.”

“My parents loved their work,” he said, voice notably quieter. “They became quite known in their field. I don’t necessarily come from money, but… when your parents spend every waking hour working, they end up leaving behind a nice amount.”

Lucy went still. The realisation of her terrible faux pas sunk in like sharp ice in her veins, settling heavily in the pit of her stomach. For a brief moment, she silently stared at the brewing tea, wishing she were able to sink into it and never emerge back up at the surface.

“I’m sorry,” she said, forcing herself to look at him. “I was being a dick. I shouldn’t— I’m sorry, I just—”

“It’s okay,” Lockwood said, gaze softening. “It’s alright.” He retrieved the milk from the fridge and gently nudged her out of the way to pour it into the mugs. “I don’t blame you for thinking everyone who went to our school is a bit… You know.” He grimaced. “A lot of them are. You’re painting for one of them right now. But we’re not all bad, I promise.”

She took her mug and held onto it tight, a steaming lifeline in her hands. “Is going by your surname something you picked up at that school too?”

“Partially,” he admitted. “Rarely anyone calls me Anthony nowadays.”

“Anthony,” she said, trying out the feel of it in her mouth. Lockwood stilled, watching her closely. “Not even Ant? Tony?”

He snapped out of it. “No, God, never. Please don’t call me that.”

Lucy’s eyebrows shot up. “Noted,” she replied into her mug.

They soon drifted back into the living room, another documentary playing in the background. Skull sat before the TV, laser-focused on watching the marine animals swim across the screen.

“How is Kipps’ painting coming along?”

“It’s getting there…” She scrunched her nose. “Something just feels missing.”

Lockwood tilted his head. His sincere interest made her stomach feel funny. “How so?”

“Right now the piece feels too… mundane? Not special enough. From what I can gather, Kipps seems a bit—” she side-eyed Lockwood, hoping he’d catch her drift.

“Flamboyant? Flashy?”

Lucy tilted her mug towards him in agreement. “Yeah. And I’m not sure how he’ll feel about it at the moment. I’m due to give him an update soon, but I’m putting it off.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Lockwood said with easy confidence.

“You’ve never seen my work. I could be a really shit artist, for all you know.”

He hesitated, suddenly finding the contents of his mug incredibly riveting.

Lucy straightened, attempting to catch his eye and failing miserably. “What?”

“I… may have had a little peruse of your website?”

“Ah,” she said, relaxing back into her seat. “So you stalked me.”

“Not in the slightest,” he insisted. “I just happened to stumble upon it.” Then, in a quieter voice, he added, “I think your art is lovely.”

“Oh.” Lucy fought to quash the heat rising in her face. “Thank you.”

“Did you go to art school?”

“Too expensive. I did it for GCSE and A-Level, but after that I just taught myself between shifts at work.”

“That’s incredible,” he said, voice dripping with awe. “You’re very talented.”

She laughed away the fluttering in the back of her throat. “Or just great at following YouTube tutorials.”

“When do your commissions open?”

She narrowed her eyes, wondering if this was going in the direction she thought it was. “They’re open now. If I get any more, they’ll be put in a queue after Kipps’.”

“I see,” he said, nodding intently. “And how would one go about ordering a commission?”

“Through my website,” she replied out of habit, before jumping to correct herself for this exception. “But you could have my number, for a quicker response time. If you want.”

Lockwood’s smile was remarkably soft. “I’d like that very much.”

–––

The perk of handing Lockwood her number was that the ball was now entirely in his court; she avoided the torture of deliberating the wording of a first text, wondering if she should text at all, or being confused as to whether Lockwood genuinely just wanted her number to get a commission slot or not.

A day had passed since she gave it to him, and she hadn’t heard a peep from the man—not a visit, a call, or even a text. Not that Lucy particularly cared, or had spent any significant amount of time dwelling on it. Not at all.

Mid-afternoon was spent curled up in an armchair, nibbling at the remainder of the Swiss roll and finally venturing out into trying a green tea—a well-needed break from working on Kipps’ painting all morning. On her lap sat her sketchbook, full of mindless doodles and sketches to keep her creativity flowing. At the base of the chair lay Skull. He pretended to be asleep, but Lucy caught him glancing up at her several times, as if checking she was still there.

Without realising, she began to sketch the outline of his sleeping form, tracing the swoop of his curled tail and the stretch of his relaxed ears. His facial markings were tough to recreate accurately, but Lucy welcomed the challenge. The sleeping Skull sketch was followed by numerous others: Skull stretching, back arched like a bridge; Skull shouting for her attention, mouth gaping and sharp teeth shining; Skull being held in someone’s arms, their slender fingers scratching his head, dark hair flopping over their forehead as they looked down with a beaming smile—

Lucy dropped the pencil as if it burnt her.

Then her phone rang.

The caller ID was unknown. As she held up her phone to inspect it, Skull’s perked ears peered over the top edge. He stared at the phone with intense scrutiny.

She pressed answer. “Hello?”

“Lucy,” a familiar voice said. She could hear the smile in his voice. “Hi.  It’s Lockwood.”

“Oh,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she fought off Skull’s attempts to jump up into her lap and swat at the phone. To appease him, she grabbed a nearby toy—a dangling ghost attached to a string and stick—and let him run wild with his attacks from a safe distance. “Hi,” she continued. “You alright?”

“Very much so. How is your day going?”

Skull pounced for the little ghost; Lucy yanked it up into the air at the last second. The look he gave her was scalding, and she muffled a laugh at the back of her throat. “It’s going well.”

“I was thinking more about your work,” he said. “I was wondering if we could talk about the possibility of me commissioning you? Perhaps over coffee.”

Lucy blanched. “Coffee?”

“Well,” Lockwood hesitated. “Tea and cake. At a coffee shop.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Considering Skull is confined to George’s flat… yes?”

“Okay,” she said after a moment. “Okay. Cool. I can do that. I’m free tomorrow?"

“So am I.” Lucy pushed aside the thought that this was unsurprising. Lockwood continued, “I can meet you at George’s at one?”

Skull geared himself up for another big pounce; this time Lucy’s reflexes weren’t quite fast enough, and he landed on the ghost with a display of triumph, sinking his teeth and claws into the stuffed fabric. “Sounds good.”

“Fantastic. It’s a d— It’s sorted. It’s a plan. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I hope the rest of your day goes well.”

“You too, Lockwood,” she said, certain her fond smile was simply directed at Skull’s successful hunting endeavour. “See you tomorrow.”

Skull looked up at her as the beep signalled the end of the call.

“I need to talk to someone about that,” she said, staring back at him, “but it’s not going to be a cat.”

Dislodging herself from the cosy armchair, Lucy hauled herself into the kitchen to defrost and reheat one of the curries that caught her eye earlier. As the Tupperware spun slowly in the microwave, she dialled one of the few people in her contact list—and idly wondered if she ought to add another to it.

“Lucy!” Holly said, her smile even more audible than Lockwood’s. “How are things going with the cat?”

“Oh, they’re going,” she replied. “Are you enjoying having our flat to yourself?”

“Honestly, it’s quite strange,” Holly admitted. “Too quiet. I almost miss the music you play while painting. And your scrambled egg.”

Lucy’s chest puffed a little with pride. Her scrambled egg was the best. (The secret was an obscene amount of butter and salt, but she dared not tell Holly.)

“Halfway there,” Lucy said. “You’ll have me back soon. But”—she hesitated, unsure how to broach the topic—“I actually called because I… need your advice?”

“Lucy,” Holly said slowly. “Please don’t tell me you killed the cat.”

Her tongue tripped over itself in her hurry to reply. “No! No. Nothing like that. Skull’s fine.” She cast a glance over to him; he sat in the kitchen entrance, quietly observing her. “It’s something else. Someone else.”

“Go on…”

“George’s friend came round the other day—Lockwood?”

“Really tall, all limbs and smiles?”

“That’s the one. He got his dates mixed up and came round, thinking George was still here, but then he ended up staying anyway, and we talked, then he came around again the next day, and we talked, then—”

“He came around again today? And you talked?”

“No,” Lucy said, incredulous. “He called me today.”

Holly gasped. “You gave him your number?!”

“For work! He was interested in getting a commission.”

“Ri-ight.”

“I swear down. Anyway, we talked over the phone and he asked if I wanted to go for coffee—no, tea and cake—somewhere tomorrow—”

“Oh my God!”

“—to talk about the commission! To talk about the commission,” she hissed. “But then as we were saying bye, he tripped up and said ‘It’s a d— It’s a plan’.”

“Lucy!” Holly softly-screamed. “It’s a date! You’re going on a date with a real human being!”

The microwave pinged. Skull trotted across the room to butt his head against her calf.

“Oh my God,” Lucy said, realisation finally sinking in. “It’s a date.”

[harringtonstilinski]

Always The Babysitter - Chapter Seven: The Bathtub

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Steve Harrington x Olivia Henderson(OC) (eventually) Word Count: 4,349 Warnings: lil’ bit more angst, fluff if you squint Smut: no | yes; A/N: Hi, friends! We get more Dusty in this episode!! If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

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I sighed as I sat in the driver's seat of Steve’s car, trying to control my breathing. Once I heard three car doors shut, I looked over at the passenger side, seeing Steve’s beat up face. I didn’t wanna cry in front of Carol and Tommy, so I just started the car and drove to the nearest store that I knew sold medicine and drinks for Steve.

Once we made it, Tommy and Carol got out. After they went into the store, I let a couple of tears roll down my cheeks. I heard Steve sigh before he quietly said, “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot,” I whispered, looking down at my fingers.

“I keep dragging you into things–”

“But it’s my choice to be there for you.” I looked at him, another tear going down my cheek. “You’re my best friend. I miss you. I–” I stopped myself from saying what I wanted, so I just went with the next best thing. “I can’t go back to the station. I can’t do that to my mom.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked. I could hear the confusion in his voice.

I sighed. “After we… I don’t know, I guess ‘broke up’, I started sneaking out and getting into some trouble. Hanging back at parties that the cops had busted, stealing a carton of Marlboro Reds, stupid shit like that. My mom came and got me every single time. The last time I was up there, they told me that I wouldn’t make it home, but instead a jail cell.”

“What did you do?”

I was quiet for a moment before I decided to speak up. “I stole a VCR.” At Steve’s silence, I looked at him. He wasn’t looking at me, but instead his own fingers.

“Yeah. It was pretty bad. I broke into the back of the store and stole the newest model they had. Wasn’t my best moment.”

After a moment, he asked, “What made you do it?” I looked at him and whispered his name, tears lining my eyes. He looked at me for a moment before asking me what made me want to act out like that.

“You don’t remember?” I asked.

He shook his head, eyes cast down.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, preparing myself. “It was the night I called you and asked if you wanted to hang out before school started the following week. I guess I was deaf to the girl on your end moaning. You ended up lying to me, telling me that your Grandma was in town. The girl moaned louder, announcing her… climax, and I just– I hung up. My mom was already asleep and so was my brother, so I snuck out and met up with some of my so-called friends at the time and I just… broke into the store and stole.”

He was so quiet, I thought he had stopped breathing. I watched as he blinked, a tear falling from his eye. He brought his hand up to his face, about to touch his hurt eye when I reached over and gently pushed his hand down.

He looked at me, sadness in his features. Opening his mouth to speak, I shook my head, “If you say that you’re sorry one more time, I swear I’m gonna cut your hair off.”

We both chuckled before I looked back at the store, wondering what was taking Tommy and Carol so long. Looking back at Steve, I tilted my head in the direction of the back of the car. “Come on. Let’s go sit.”

Getting out, I breathed in a deep breath of fresh air before shutting the door and walking around the back of the car, giving Steve his keys back. We sat on the trunk of the car in silence. Carol came out first, a small smile on her face.

I scrunched my face in disgust, voicing as such. A couple minutes later, Tommy came out, tossing a bottle of medicine at Steve while trying to hand him a Coke, while saying, “You owe me $1.20.”

As Steve dry swallowed his medicine, Tommy said, “Don’t worry. He’ll need more than aspirin when we’re done with him.”

“Yeah, if the creep ever gets out,” Carol said.

I rolled my eyes as Steve leaned his elbows on his knees, looking back at me for a split moment before putting the Coke can up to his head. Leaning my head on his shoulder, I felt his shoulder relax a little.

“The cops should lock him up forever. Did you see the look on his face?”

All I heard was Tommy laughing and Carol punching him.

“He probably had the same look on his face whenever he killed his brother, right?” Tommy said.

Steve knocked his knee against mine, knowing my sisterly feelings towards the Byers boys. Picking my head up, I sighed before hopping off the car.

“Oh, god, I just got an image of him making that face while he and Nancy are screwing,” Carol said.

Steve and I locked eyes for a minute before I looked down. I didn’t expect the events that would happen next.

“Carol, for once in your life, shut your damn mouth!” Steve said.

I looked at him, not expecting that.

“What?” she asked.

“Hey, what’s your problem, man?” Tommy asked.

Again, Steve and I locked eyes before he looked over at Tommy and Carol, looking at the both of them.

“You’re both assholes, that’s my problem,” Steve said, getting down from the car.

I took a step back as Tommy asked, “Are you serious right now, man?”

“Yeah, I think he is,” I said. “Something I’ve been saying since the beginning.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Steve said, walking to his side of the car. 

“Done what?” Tommy asked.

“You know what!”

“You mean call her out for what she really is? Oh, that’s funny because I don’t remember you asking me to stop.”

Anger took over me as I stalked over to the boys, pushing my way in between them and pushing Tommy away with everything I had. “I should’ve put that fucking spray paint down your throat.”

“What the hell, Liv?” Carol asked.

I looked at her and said, “Don’t call me that. Ya’know, neither of you ever really cared about Steve. Or Nancy. You never even liked her, or Steve. Because she’s not miserable like the two of you. They actually care about other people.”

“The slut with a heart of gold,” Carol said.

“He said watch your damn mouth!” I felt two arms around my middle before I was shoved against Steve.

“Hey! I don’t know what’s gotten into you, man, but you don’t talk to her that way,” Tommy said.

“It’s me talking, zit face!” I yelled.

Tommy went to grab me by my jacket, but Steve shoved me away before he could, making Tommy grab him instead.

“Or what?” Tommy asked.

Steve started fighting against Tommy, who asked, “You gonna fight me now, too? Because you couldn’t take Jonathan Byers… so, I wouldn’t recommend that.”

Still flooded with anger, I got in between Steve and Tommy, shoving him off Steve again. Staring Tommy down for a moment, I even breathed in anger before I turned to Steve, who was already looking at me. “Come on, let’s go.”

He didn’t say anything. He just opened the door and started to get in as I quickly walked to the passenger side of the car, getting in as Tommy said, “That’s right. Run away, Stevie boy!”

Steve quickly backed out of the parking spot and sped off down the road. 

I didn’t wanna say anything, so I just looked out of the window. Steve cleared his throat, so I looked at him before he started speaking.

“Look. I know I’ve been an asshole to you the last couple years. But I felt like I had this… reputation to uphold. I guess I took the whole King Steve thing a little too seriously.”

“It’s okay to want to live up to the last King,” I said. “You just didn’t need to be an ass about it. People call me Queen Olivia. That alone feels weird.”

It’s almost like he knew to take me home ‘cause I recognized the turns he was taking.

“Do you remember when we were kids, how we’d play that Kingdom game?” he asked.

I chuckled, nodding my head. “I do remember. It was one of my favorite games to play.”

“It’s almost like that game,” he said. “Me being King, ruling over the Kingdom of Hawkins. You as my queen.”

“I was more of a princess or peasant when we were kids.”

“Now you’re my queen.”

I looked at his profile. “Best friend.”

He looked at me for a moment, a small smile on his features. “Best friend.”

When he pulled into the driveway, we both got out, meeting at the front of the car for a much needed hug.

“Call me later?” he asked.

I nodded, pulling away. “Like old times.” I walked to the door, turning to see Steve waiting at the road before pulling off after I waved. When I walked inside, Mom was sitting in her chair, Mews in her lap. 

“Oh, Livvie,” she said. “Dustin called. He asked if you could meet him and the boys at the junkyard.”

“The junky– oh, no,” I said, turning back out of the house and getting on my bike. I pedaled as fast as I could towards the junkyard, wanting to make a stop first. 

Walking into the house, I stopped and looked at the display of Christmas lights that was still up. I heard Nancy talking, so I followed her voice to Will’s room, seeing her, Jonathan, Joyce and Hopper. Uh oh.

As soon as Hopper saw me, he walked up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You and I are gonna have a little talk when this is all over.”

At Nancy’s last attempt at getting Mike to answer the walkie talkie, Hopper walked over to her and took the device from her hand, putting the mouthpiece up to his mouth saying, “Listen, kid, this is the Chief. If you’re there, pick up. We know you’re in trouble and we know about the girl. We can protect you, we can help you, but you gotta pick up.”

I took the device from him, speaking into it, “Dustin! You know I’m never on these things unless it’s an emergency. So, please, one of you, for love of all that’s good in this world, pick up the damn walkie. Do you copy? Over.” I set the device down on a dresser near me, asking the group, “Anyone got any other brilliant ideas?”

“Yeah,” Mike said through the device. “Yeah, I copy. It’s Mike. I’m here. We’re here.”

“Oh, thank god,” I breathed.

~~~

“I don’t feel good about this,” I voiced. “I don’t feel good about this!”

“Hopper’s going to get them,” Joyce said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Hopper made me stay at the Byers’ house while he went and saved the kids. I protested and told him that I wanted to go with him to get my brother, but he quickly walked outside and left.

I got up and started pacing after Joyce rubbed my back for a moment. At the sight of lights in my periphery, I looked out the window, seeing the car back outside. The four of us, Joyce, Jonathan, Nancy and myself, all ran outside, Nance and I saying our brothers names, and running to give them hugs.

“I was so freaking worried about you,” I said into Dustin’s hat. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Me, too.” He turned his head over his shoulder for a second before turning back to look at me. “Look who we have.”

I looked in the direction he turned his head again, seeing Eleven. Smiling, I let go of Dustin to go to El, the small girl sharing a smile. Immediately, I engulfed her in a hug. We let go of each other when Nancy asked, “Is that my dress?”

I moved out of the way so that Nancy could get a better look at Eleven. Moving back over to Dustin, I put my arm around his shoulder, guiding him into the house.

~~~

Once we were all inside, Mike took it upon himself to explain the flea and the acrobat scenario to Joyce, Jonathan and Nancy. I think Hopper was listening, but I really didn’t know. All I did know was that I could feel his eyes stabbing daggers into the side of my face.

I looked at him and gave him that what? look. He pointed at me and said, “We’ll talk later.” He turned his attention to the boys, asking, “Is this gate underground?”

“Yes,” came Eleven’s soft voice.

“Near a large water tank?”

Eleven nodded and said, “Yes,” before looking down a little. I moved closer to her, putting my arm around her shoulders.

“H-how’d you know all that?” Dustin asked.

After a moment, Mike said, “He’s seen it.”

“Is there any way that you could… that you could reach Will?” Joyce asked. “That you could talk to him in this–”

“The Upside Down,” Eleven and I answered.

Joyce whisper-repeated our words, Eleven nodding in confirmation. 

“And my friend, Barbra?” Nancy asked. “Can you find her, too?”

Five minutes later saw all of us standing or sitting at the dining/kitchen table, Barb’s picture and Will’s walkie talkie on the table, Eleven sitting in front of it. Static came from the walkie talkie, El’s eyes closed, moving side to side behind her eyelids.

The lights flickered before the static went down on the walkie. El opened her eyes, looking in Nancy’s direction, a look of sadness crossing her features as she said, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Joyce asked. “Wh-what’s wrong? What happened?”

Voice breaking, El replied, “I can’t find them.”

“Aw, sweetie,” I said, moving to kneel beside her. “It’s okay.”

She moved her seat back, quickly making her way through the hallway to find the bathroom. I heard the tap running before Dustin and the boys started talking.

“Whenever she uses her powers, she gets weak,” Mike said.

“The more energy she uses, the more tired she gets,” Dustin added.

“Like, she flipped the van earlier,” Lucas added.

“I’m sorry,” I said, eyebrows shooting into my hairline. “She what?”

“It was awesome,” Dustin said, smiling.

“But she’s drained,” Mike added.

“Like a… bad battery.”

“Well…” Joyce said. “H-how do we make her better?”

“We don’t,” Mike said. “We just have to wait and try again.”

After a moment, Nancy said, “Well, how long?”

“Nance,” I said, softly.

“I don’t know,” Mike answered.

Eleven’s quiet voice came from behind us as she said, “The bath.”

Joyce turned around to look at her, asking “What?”

Jonathan turned to look at her as well as everyone else as Eleven continued, “I can find them. In the bath.”

We all discussed how we were gonna make a bath big enough for how big Eleven was talking. Dustin decided he needed to call his favorite teacher to get the answer to the question we were all wondering; how to build a sensory deprivation tank. It was quiet on our end of the line before Dustin said, “Fun,” and almost made me bust out laughing.

Again, silence before Dustin said, “You always say you should never stop being curious. To always open any curiosity door we find. Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?”

He sat down with a notepad and a pencil, writing down everything Mr. Clarke was telling him. “How much? Yep, alright. Yeah, we’ll be careful. I’ll see you on Monday, Mr. Clarke.” After hanging up the phone, he pointed to Joyce with the end of his pencil, asking her, “Do you still have that kiddie pool we bobbed for apples in?”

“Yeah, I think so,” she answered.

“Good. Then we need salt. Lots of it.”

“How much is lots?” Hopper and I asked.

Dustin looked at the notepad before looking up at Hopper. “1,500 pounds.”

“Where are we gonna get that much salt?” Nancy asked.

“The Middle School,” I answered. At that, we piled up into Hopper’s truck and Joyce’s car, making our way to the middle school.

~~~

After we made it to the middle school, we all hopped out and got to work doing our respective jobs. I was on water hose duty with the Wheeler’s.

Once Nancy broke the lock with a big ass rock after Mike tried to shove his way in like in the movies, the three of us went inside the little building and got the hoses. 

As we were walking back, Nancy decided to ask, “What does she even eat?”

“What?” Mike asked.

“Eleven.”

“Oh. Candy, leftovers, Eggo’s… she really likes Eggo’s.”

“I like Eggo’s,” I voiced, softly.

“I knew you were acting weird, I just… I thought it was because of Will,” Nancy said to Mike.

“I knew you were acting weird, too. I thought it was because of Steve,” Mike replied.

“Hey..” Nancy said, putting the wheelbarrow down. “No more secrets, okay?”

I kept walking, not really wanting to be a part of this conversation, but knowing I had to because the moment Nancy realized I was gone, she said my name, telling me that what she said also applied to me.

“From now on we tell each other everything.”

“Okay,” Mike and I said. “Do you like Jonathan now?”

“What? No. No, it’s… it’s not… it’s not like that.”

“That must be your phrase of the day,” I muttered.

Looking at Mike, Nancy asked, “Do you like Eleven?”

“What? No. Ew. Gross,” Mike said. 11 year olds. Insert eyeroll here. 

They both looked at me and asked, “Do you like Steve?”

“Aaaand this is where I walk away because that’s the most ridiculous question I’ve ever heard,” I said, turning around and walking back towards the gym. After I dropped the water hose off, I went in search of Eleven and Joyce, not having seen them when I entered.

Searching for them in the classrooms, I found them in a Science Room, Eleven’s hands clasped in Joyce’s. I walked in as soon as Joyce said, “I am going to be there with you the whole time.”

“And so will I,” I said, moving to squat beside Eleven.

“And if it ever gets too scary… in-in that place, you just let us know, okay?”

“Yes,” Eleven said, softly.

I placed my hand on her back at the sad look on her face. “Ready?”

She looked at me, breathing trembling before she answered, “Ready.” When we got back to the gym, everything was set up. Eleven took off her shoes and socks, and Mike’s watch, putting on the duct tape covered goggles Joyce had made.

Joyce and Hopper helped Eleven get into the pool, or bathtub, before she walked a few feet to the middle where she sat down and then began to float.

I was kneeling beside Dustin, watching her as the lights immediately started to flicker before shutting off entirely. I’m not sure how much time had passed before Eleven said Barbra’s name. She started breathing heavily, the lights once again flickering for a second before shutting off again.

“What’s going on?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t know,” Mike answered.

Looking back at Eleven after having looked around, Nancy asked, “Is Barb okay? Is she okay?”

As if she were trying not to cry, Eleven answered, “Gone. Gone. Gone.”

Nancy started crying at the loss of her best friend. I felt bad for her, at losing someone that was so close to her.

Eleven kept repeating the word gone as Joyce and I both told her that it was okay, both of holding each of her hands and arms.  She started to gasp, Joyce telling her, “It’s okay. We’re right here. We’re right here, honey. It’s okay. We got you.”

The grip Eleven had on my arm was one of grounding. I guess she was making sure that I wasn’t going anywhere, and I’m sure it was the same way for Joyce. 

“Don’t be afraid,” I said, calmly. “We’re right here with you, sweetie.”

“It’s okay,” Joyce added. “You’re safe. You’re okay, honey.”

Eleven’s grip on our arms loosened, her arms going back into the water to continue floating on her own.

Joyce and I stayed close to the edge of the pool to be close enough to her if she needed us again. I was still close enough to Dustin if he needed me, as well.

“Castle Byers,” Eleven said.

I immediately looked between Joyce and Jonathan, knowing exactly what Eleven was talking about. A little shack/fort in the woods not far from the Byers home that Jonathan and Will built not too long ago. It was counted as Will’s safe space since he had decorated it to fit his needs.

A few more seconds went by before Eleven said the name that made Joyce gasp. “Will?”

“You tell him… tell him I’m coming,” Joyce asked of Eleven. “Mom is coming.”

Tears immediately welled in my eyes at Will’s sweet voice coming through the walkie talkie. “Hurry.”

“Okay. Listen, you tell him to… to stay where he is. We’re coming. We’re coming, okay? We’re coming, honey.”

We all could hear Eleven through the radio, whimpering before she quickly sat up, taking off the goggles. She quickly backed up to Joyce as I put my arms around Dustin, not wanting to ever let him go again.

Joyce kept reassuring the young girl that she was okay and that she had her. Eleven started crying once Joyce told her that she did so good. 

I stuck my hand in the water, a tear streaming down my cheek as I told her, “You were so brave. I’m so proud of you.”

She looked at me, her eyes telling me that she was exhausted, but thankful.

A few minutes later, we got her out and started to gently dry her off before putting her socks back on her. We wrapped the towel around her and had her sit on the bleachers with Mike, Dustin and Lucas, her head on Mike’s shoulder.

I was standing with Hopper, Joyce and Jonathan as Hopper asked, “So this fort. Where is it?” as he put on his jacket, his hat already on his head.

“It’s in the woods behind our house,” Joyce said.

“Yeah, he used to go there to hide,” Jonathan added.

Hopper walked off, Joyce grabbing my hand to follow her and Jonathan. All of us walked outside when Hopper turned around, pointing to the door and saying, “Hey, go back inside.”

“What– are you insane?” Joyce asked, her hand still holding mine. “No, I’m–”

“Look, if something happens to me, I don’t make it back–” Hopper said.

“Yeah, but then I go, you stay. Are you kidding me? He’s my son, Hop. My son. I’m going!” She turned to Jonathan, letting go of my hand, telling him that he needed to stay here.

I looked at Hopper as he was looking at the ground. To relieve the tension I felt in the air, I leaned forward just a little bit and asked, “Since she called you Hop, does that mean that I–”

“Don’t push it,” Hopper said. He went to the driver’s side of his truck, opening the door and shouting Joyce’s name.

Jonathan was protesting his mom’s directions, but when she told him that she’d find Will, she backed up a little as Hopper was basically telling her that it was time to go. Joyce turned to face me, giving me a quick but tight hug as she repeated her words to me.

Jonathan and I watched as they backed out and drove off, standing there for a moment. From my periphery, he turned his head to face me then back in the direction Hopper’s truck went. “We’re not gonna stay here, are we?”

“Have you known me to stay put?” I asked.

We walked back inside and saw Nancy sitting on the wall across from the door. Walking over to her, I couldn’t help but feel awful at the thought of her grieving over her best friend. Jonthan sat down next to her as I sat across from them, sitting with my legs crossed.

All I could do was look at Nancy, sighing softly before saying, “I’m so sorry, Nance.”

“We have to go back to the station,” she said, directing it at Jonathan.

“What?” Jonathan asked.

“Your mom and Hopper are just walking in there like bait. That thing is still in there.”

“What thing?” I asked.

“The monster. The one in the picture with Barb.”

“The Demogorgon?”

“We can’t just sit here and let it get them, too. We can’t.”

After a moment, Jonathan asked, “You still wanna try it out?”

“Can I throw my suggestion in there somewhere?” I asked.

“I wanna finish what we started,” Nancy said, looking in Jonathan’s direction. He looked at her before they both looked at me.

I shrugged before saying, “Let’s kill the son of a bitch.”

~~~

Nancy, Jonathan and I all went to the station. There was only one guard working and he never paid attention to anything. So, I led the way into the Hopper’s office where they stashed their monster hunting equipment.

“How are you so comfortable here?” Nancy asked.

“Trust me, I’m not,” I said, walking towards the table. “I’m just used to being here.”

“What about that officer?”

“If he saw me, he probably thought to himself, she's here again? or she’s here to see the Chief.”

“Why have you been here so much?”

I sighed and turned to her, monster hunting box in hand. “My two best friends left me, so I did some questionable things; stealing, breaking and entering, being out past curfew, not leaving a cop busted party.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, softly, after a moment.

“It’s okay, Nance. Now, let’s go kill this son of a bitch.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! i have no excuse why this late. i really don't. but, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Note: there's kind of a deleted scene in this episode where hop and liv talk. if y'all are interested, i can write that scene for you!! also, i know that some of y’all are waiting to see your requests, and i promise i’ll get to them. the writer’s block hit really bad with them. atb is the only thing i have motivation to post for at the moment.

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​​ @stixnstripesworld​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​​​ @quanticobae​​​ @mischiefandi​​​ @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak​​​​

Steve Harrington Taglist: @madaboutjoe

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on December 19, 2023

[somedudenamedanthony]

Wanna hear a funny story about how I have some actual trauma that I closely associate with (not caused by) one of Lily Orchard's videos, if you wanna hear it?

I mostly like her stuff, but I cannot watch Snow White the same anymore ever.

Yeah, of course you do

TW for needles, blood, being in pain, panic attacks, asshole nurses, hospitals, and others, probably.

Background context:

Every year in January, I get blood tests done with the rest of my family. It's the first thing we do when the medical updates each year.

I am not afraid of needles, though I do feel pain easier than most, so I tend to like to keep distractions around me (ex: YouTube videos) to help me keep stone-faced as I don't like crying.

I'm like 98% sure I descovered Lily's videos sometime in mid 2022, and watched them after a month of Legend of Korra is Garbage and Here's Why being the first thing recommended to my on every other video I watched (I was going through a phase of getting back into Avatar after a small She-Ra buzz started fading and I needed something to distract myself from Arcane).

That same year in January was the third time I've ever had a bad experience with a needle in my life up to that point. The nurse was a young guy and didn't know what he was doing, and it left me in some pretty bad pain, that I struggled to shake off as hospitals already make me uncomfortable (liminal space looking ass alchahol scented white buildings), and it kinda cemented an idea that I didn't like them.

Now, I reacted to watching Lily's videos the same way I consume most new media that interests me. I go insane and watch the same shit over and over again, binging everything for like three months, then taking a step back to think about it and take the new media in healthily (damn you ADHD).

This lead to the 2023 blood tests, where I was seated in that stupid fucking hospital cuck chair, waiting for my dad and sibling (Arlo) to finish drawing blood so they could be in the room if something went wrong like it did the previous year (we asked for this, and the first red flag came when the nurse made a comment about me being scared of needles at my age. I wasn't yet, but it was some foreshadowing of her bitchyness I chose to ignore and now regret).

I figured to pass some anxiety, I'd watch one of the YouTube videos I downloaded for cases like this: Show White's in a minute video (along with the rest of the Disney ones in a playlist because they were my brain chew toy of the week).

My dad came in, we were still waiting for Arlo, but the nurse decided just having him there would be enough. I was hit with the sudden appearance of the needle, but kept my cool for a second, until I felt the nurse cutting open a different vein by grazing it and at this point I could feel the panic setting in. And also it FUCKING HURT. My arm was stapped to stop shaking and pop my veins, nurse tried again, and at this point I not only began crying, but Arlo finally came in, and saw I was getting aimlessly stabbed, and suggested I not be.

We took a break and I was layed down on the hospital bed to calm down while the nurse called over a second nurse to help. I paused the video and talked with Arlo a bit to chill, but then kept watching the video when the two nurses came back.

The first nurse made some minor (passive agresses) commentary about it while fondling my arm for a vein, not hearing anything Lily was talking about because I was watching it with wireless earphones in, asking if it was my favourite Disney movie (which it kinda was at the time) (I think ahe just hated how "childish" I was being by crying and thiughg the Disney stuff was part of that) (like I'm only a baby SOMETIMES asshole) but I explained I was watching a YouTube video. You know, talking to try to ignore the fact that I was getting tied to a bed bynthe second nurse at this point.

Then the fucking needle came out again after the small talk was over and I seemed calmer (read: I was not, I'm just good at bullshitting) and they apparently found a good spot.

So now, here I am, fifteen, strapped to a bed by two middle aged ladies who can't find my vein after they JUST HAD IT, complaining about me crying again and calling me a big baby, now trying to find a vein in my HAND (which became my main drawing area this year due to similar complications but with a much more skilled and actually nice nurse, and the back of my hand will continue to be my drawing area unless my wrist opens up a bit) and settled on drawing blood from the side of my wrist, all while Lily fucking Orchard is bitching about Snow White, and Arlo is trying to soothe me while glaring at our dad for doing nothing.

Anyways, I now have panic attacks at the mere mention of drawing blood (yesterday when I was in the ER because we couldn't get a doctor's appointment anywhere else and I am currently dealing with some stomach shit that makes me get heartburn so painful I vomited), and I can't watch her Snow White video (or even the original movie) anymore without becoming deeply uncomfortable and feeling the needles burn in my skin.

It's a shame, I really liked that movie :/

[itsybiggy]

Stuck With Me: Book 1

🕷️(Cute Peter Parker slow burn, less spiderman action more just good ol awkward Parker.)

🕷️Peter has been in a bad mood all month, but with soon to be divorced parents, trying to figure out what's wrong with him is the last thing Lani needs. Thankfully summer break is here. Lani, Ned, Peter, and MJ set off on the summer vacation road trip to California. Drama ensues

Next part

CHAPTER 1: paint job

Lania's POV

Today is just one of those weeks, well months. It feels like each day drags on, but then all of the sudden it's Monday again. You just wonder "what have I been doing, why are all the days mushing together?" I guess it could be the rain, it's been raining almost every day this week. Rain always gets Peter moody. I guess because it's annoying getting rained on while you're just trying to do your job, swinging through the city. Ned just hates rain, and I have a dog who loves the mud but hates baths. I'm pretty sure Michelle is the only one who likes it.

"It's great antisocial weather." She always says.

Another contributing factor to the days running together is the feeling that they are all the same. Wake up, hear screaming from parents downstairs, get ready for school, hear dad slam the door to go to work, eat with crying mom downstairs, go to school, hang out with Ned, Peter, and Michelle, come home, do homework, and go to bed.

Considering I'm with my friends most of the day it's not too bad. But I'm just tired of it all.

I have no idea what I'll do when I'm finished painting my van. "My life will be a whole new level of boring " I sigh, once again dipping my brush into the paint can. The satisfying strokes of the rust-colored car turning the to the calming sage green, help me relax me. I skip a depressing song on my playlist and go for a Canned Heat song instead. That and the heavy rain is enough that no noise in the house can be heard in the garage. Silence at the Kahale house was hard to come by so I welcomed it with open arms, as the paint fumes danced in my nostrils.

That's when the daydreaming started, it had almost become routine. Something to look forward to while I painted and did other maintenance on Caroline. It was pretty much the same scenario every time. Kind of pathetic honestly. Some variation of the the same outcome at least.

Todays day dream starts off with Peter coming over in the night, having something to tell me. He climbs through the window in his spider-man suit. He wears it so he can be at my apartment even faster. I go to the window, confused why he's here. only for him to rush in take off his mask and tell me he is in love with me. And then of course we makeout.

Ok, I know it's weird and not realistic. First off, I am so hard in the friend zone. Second, no one just does that-but hey a girl can dream. But really she can't because her cush is way out of her league. I mean come on he's Spiderman!

I was the second to find out, Ned being the first. Though, I'm pretty sure me and Michelle knew around the same time. He came home one day after "the Stark internship" with the biggest black eye I had ever seen.

I was talking with Aunt May when he came home. He did a double glance at me and then darted for the bathroom.

"Peter?" Aunt May said, just as confused as I was.

"I just have to go to the bathroom!" He called out.

But he didn't know that I got a quick look of his eye before he bolted. That, and like a year ago all of the sudden he went from cute Lil' Peter to-shredded, chiseled, and taller Peter. A couple of other things had happened and it made us all suspicious. So, as soon as he ran off to his room, I got up and followed him. It took me about 60 seconds to find his suit.

The sudden pause in my music took me back into reality.

It was a text from Michelle in the group chat.

michael jackson: Hey nerds, how does Good Eats sound to you guys?

I was the first to respond

Lani: sounds amazing, I'm starving :))))

Bubby🖕🏻💗: sure but I've got no cash 😒

I roll my eyes. Ned has been putting off getting a job for months.

Lani: I'm freaking loaded so I can pay for you 😘😘

Bubby🖕🏻💗: thanks a love

Lani: I got u bb 🤠

michael jackson: get a room

itsy bitsy ❤️💙: Or just stop.

Bubby🖕🏻💗: ayy Peter you coming?

itsy bitsy❤️💙: I guess.

Lani: want me to pick you guys up?

michael jackson : Nah I don't trust your driving after the whole incident

Lani: ???

Bubby🖕🏻💗: Yess plss

itsy bitsy ❤️💙: No.

My mood sinks, if that makes sense. Seems like Peter is annoyed with me, and I don't know why. I shake my head. Texts always sound passive aggressive. But something about periods and short, serious answers make me question if it was just that. What if he was actually being passive-aggressive?

Guess I'll find out tonight.

michael jackson : What time is good for you guys? I was thinking 6.

Lani: sounds great to me! What time to you want to be picked up bubby?

Bubby is what I can Ned, he is pretty much my twin brother. Our humor is very similar so we can just make stupid jokes to each other all the time.

Bubby🖕🏻💗: 5:30 works great for me. Thanks ❤️!

Lani: don't mention it 💛!

Peter still hasn't replied. Maybe there is something wrong. I bite my lip and decide to text him away from the group chat.

Lani: hey Peter, you ok? :)

itsy bitsy : 💬

The bubble goes up and down as he is typing before it disappears from my screen. I wait for it to return, but it doesn't. I decide to text Michelle and Ned, but Michelle beats me to it.

michael jackson : is it just me or is bug boy off?

Lani: was just about to say the same thing. I tried asking but he just left me on read.

michael jackson: I'll talk to him.

Lani: :( ok tell him we love him if he replies to you. I'm kind of worried about him.

michael jackson : will do.

I notice a lack of Ned in this discussion, but before I can think of it any more I see my clock says 4:49. I close the paint can and head inside.

That's when I get hit in the head with a plastic cup.

"Ow what the frick!" I exclaimed.

My mom comes rushing over to me. "Oh Lani, I didn't see you!" She glares up at my dad who is on the other side if the room. He looks very mad. "It was meant for your father."

I don't know what I'm supposed to say to this. I decide a not addressing it. They seems to be in a bad mood already. "It's fine whatever." will do. The little voice in my head faintly whispers but it's not fine. I push it down. "Mom's going through a lot right now, she doesn't have to think of me" overpowers the whisper as I leave the room. My mind is blank except for the thought of the minor, but definitely there, pain on the side of my face.

Usually—or I guess from what I've heard from some kids at school who also have divorced parents, only one of them is crazy, or unfaithful, etc... what luck that I got two crazy parents. They were fine on their own, normal chill mom and normal chill dad even before the fighting started. But something about them together made for a toxic explosion, they were not themselves anymore. Both equally to blame for the downfall of their marriage, which disintegrated only a year after it started. Right when I was born.

They have never said this out loud but, I know they blame me.

Instead of dwelling on that plastic cup, I make myself busy getting ready for tonight. That's the fun thing about liking someone, having a crush, you can get all done up.

I already have this up on wattpad, but if you hate that format I’ve got it here for you now. Tell me what you think!!

[fuckyeah-dragrace]

68 + 75 with Yvie x Brooke 👀👀

oooo now let's see how this turns out

68. “Uh oh, you’re listening to your extra-angsty playlist, I see.”

75. “You… You just kissed me.”

Brooke sighed and wiped her brow as she stepped out of the rehearsal room. It was a week from their showcase and Jesus Christ the choreographers were giving them no breaks. She had a solo which wasn’t a surprise considering she was the top senior dancer there. She walked back to a more communal waiting area where girls could warm up before their sessions.

It was early and a Sunday so no one was there for rehearsing to her knowledge. When she opened the door though, she was surprised to see Yvie laying on the floor with her headphones on. The music was blasting since Brooke could hear it from across the room. She recognized the song and sat down on little cubbies they had for shoes and such.

She leaned down and tapped at girls arm gently. Yvie cracked one eye open and groaned.

“You’re listening to your extra-angsty playlist I see.”

“Glad to know you’re not blind, ballerina.” The brunette lowered her music and pulled out one ear bud. “How did your rehearsal go?”

“Fine.” The blonde said as she started to stretch a little more. “Davenport is adding a lot of new stuff so I’m going to be here a lot more.”

Yvie nodded and had her hands behind her head. “You’ll be fine. Remember when you got the solo day of and took first.”

“You never let me forget it.” She smiled at her. “How’s your routine going?”

The brunettes eyes seemed to shift, dulling a bit and letting out a deep breath. “They cut it.”

“They did what?” Brooke looked at her in shock. “Why? They made an acro routine and you’re our only acro dancer.”

“I know.” Yvie sniffed, turning her head enough to not look at Brooke. “I couldn’t hit one of the tricks so I told them to cut it.”

“Oh Yvie.” The blonde shifted in her seat, closer to the brunette and laying on her stomach, her face over the other girls. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was a stupid back tuck. I fell flat on my face. I used to do them all the time but now it’s so hard.” She mumbled bitterly, her eyes starting to water. They didn’t talk about Yvies body slowing down, they were dancing to escape reality, not face it. But they both noticed the slow and subtle decline in her flexibility, how exhausted she was after routines and how battered and bruised she was after every time she danced.

The blondes heart broke seeing her like this. She hated seeing Yvie defeated when normally she was laughing like a damn demon and grinning like an idiot at some joke. She had so much in her and Brooke could see it every time she looked at her.

She got up from her seat and laid down next to her, eyes to eye, green looking at hazel. Yvie looked at her, holding back the urge to cry in front of her friend. “What’re you doing?” She said softly. A pale hand came up to tenderly hold her cheek and before Yvie knew it, Brooke kissed her.

Their lips were fluid and soft against each other, moving with a comforting heat. Her hand came up to the taller girls shoulder, holding on to make sure the moment was really happening. They pulled away with a pink settling into their cheeks and an easy smile on the blondes lips.

“You… you just kissed me.” Yvie whispered, in shock of what happened and trying to convince herself this wasn’t a dream.

“You’re more than a stupid back tuck, Yve.” Brooke said softly, her hand staying on the girls cheek. “You’re an amazing dancer.”

The younger girl smiled, eyes glassy again but for a different reason now. “Thanks Brookie.”

“Of course.” She smiled back. “Can I kiss you again?” She broke their eye contact, suddenly bashful and blushing a little more than normal. That made Yvie chuckle and nod, wrapping an arm around Brooke and pulling her closer.

“Hell yeah.” She leaned in and connected their lips again for another kiss. Maybe she couldn’t land a back tuck but she got ballerina instead and one is definitely better than the other.

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 04

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 7.9 k

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note has anyone asked for a bit of angst? dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

It had been a week since you had your unconventional date with Gojo. You were back in practical class, relieved that it didn't involve drawing blood like the last time. 

Yuta surely was thankful for that.

Doctor Kento was demonstrating how to perform various types of stitches. You paid close attention, even though you knew most of the stitches by heart. When it was time for the students to try, you picked up the needle and thread, grabbed an orange and began to stitch.

You never learned to suture on fruit before, but it must be easier than working on actual human skin, right?

"Bet I can finish my stitches before all of you," Yuta chimed in, a grin spreading across his face as he expertly threaded his needle.

Maki glanced at him. "You're on, Okkotsu. But don't come crying to me when I beat you."

The two worked with newfound speed, their needles weaving through the orange peel. Yuta finished his line first. "See, what did I tell you?" he said with a smile.

Maki leaned closer to inspect his stitching. "Not bad," she admitted. "But check out your spacing here, Yuta. It's a bit off."

Yuta squinted at his work. "Ah, you're right. Gotta work on that."

"And... done!" you said, holding up your perfectly sutured orange.

Yuta turned to look at your work. "Wow, that's some neat stitching. Makes mine look like child's play."

"Impressive," Toge said.

Maki paused her stitching to glance at your handiwork. "Seriously impressive," she commented. "How'd you get so good?"

You smiled. "I had to learn a few things on my own before university," you explained. "And I guess some practice outside of class helped too."

As you finished your set of stitches, doctor Kento came over to inspect your work. His eyebrows raised as he examined the neat line of sutures. "Excellent work," he said. "And I thought you were a failure in practical class, after the mess you made with the blood withdrawal."

Ouch. 

Why was he always so direct. 

You and your friends were fully engaged in the session, focused on perfecting your suturing techniques. Suddenly, the door opened and professor Gojo entered. He moved towards Kento's desk, as if to retrieve something.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Gojo's gaze found you across the room. His eyes met yours, and a small smile appeared on his lips. You watched him as he walked over to Kento.

Maki leaned closer to you. "Oh, look, Dr. Handsome graces us with his presence," she said. "Isn't it strange how often he shows up around you?"

"Only strange coincidences," you replied, but Maki's raised eyebrow told you she wasn't entirely convinced.

Gojo finished his brief conversation with Kento and made his way over to your group. The others paused, needles in mid-air, as he approached.

"Hello there." His gaze swept over the group and then rested on you. "I see you're all making good progress with your suturing."

Yuta leaned back in his chair. "We're doing our best, professor. But she over here is putting us all to shame," he said, nodding towards you.

Gojo's smile broadened. "Is that so?"

He walked over to you, a bit too close for the classroom setting. He picked up one of your stitched oranges, turning it over in his hands. "Impressive precision."

"But perhaps a bit basic for your skill level," he added, his eyes meeting yours briefly before he picked up another orange from the table. He pulled a chair up to your table, sitting down close enough that his knee brushed against yours under the table.

"Have you ever tried a subcuticular suture?"

"No, I haven't."

Gojo grabbed an unused needle and thread. "Let me show you."

Your friends gathered around, watching as Gojo skillfully maneuvered the needle through the orange peel. "Subcuticular suturing is an intradermal suture that minimizes scarring. You need a steady hand and some patience to do it."

The needle dipped in and out of the orange peel, leaving a nearly invisible line on the surface. "The key is consistent tension," he explained. "Imagine you're weaving, each pass of the needle equidistant to the last, and the thread tension must be just enough to approximate the edges without puckering the tissue."

Once finished, he held up the orange for everyone to see. "See?"

He tossed another orange towards you. Your caught it just in time. "Your turn," he said.

Gojo leaned further towards you, his leg touching yours under the table. Then you felt a hand resting on your thigh. You jumped slightly and immediately kicked him with your foot under the table.

God, Gojo, keep it professional, at least in class.

He received the message and gave you a quick, sly smile that you hoped would go unnoticed by your friends.

With Gojo still watching closely, you began to work on the orange, trying to mirror the technique he had just demonstrated. The stitch was more complex than you were used to. And it didn't help that Gojo was so close. 

"Angle the needle a bit more... that's it. Now, even tension as you pull through," he said. You were acutely aware of every comment, every slight touch as he pointed out adjustments. 

When you finished, Gojo examined your work, his fingers brushing lightly against your hands as he reached for the orange. "Well done," he said. "You're a quick learner. Or perhaps I'm just a good teacher?"

Sure.

At that moment, Kento approached your table, his gaze lingering on the two of you for a brief second. "Taking over my class, Gojo?"

Gojo straightened, turning to face Kento with a relaxed posture. "Not in the slightest, Kento," he replied. "Only sharing a new technique with the students."

"Well, ensure it doesn't become a regular occurrence," he said. "Managing these students is challenging enough. I don't need any additional burdens."

"Understood, Kento," Gojo said, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I'll leave the teaching to the experts, then."

He turned his attention back to you and your friends. "Keep practicing, students," he said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. As Gojo moved to leave the classroom, he cast one last glance in your direction, his smile lingering.

After he left, Maki leaned closer to you, a suspicious look in her eyes. "You know, he looks at you a bit too long to be just your research partner," she observed in a low voice.

Your stomach fluttered. "Does he?"

Maki leaned back, her eyes studying you closely. "Yeah, It's pretty obvious."

You hesitated, searching for the right words. "We've just gotten to know each other better recently. That's all."

"Uh huh," Maki replied. "Just be careful, okay? He's your professor, after all."

The conversation came to an abrupt halt as Kento redirected the class's attention to the front.

─── ·✧· ───

Later that day, the campus was bathed in warm sunlight, the air filled with the chatter and laughter of students enjoying a break between classes. You were sprawled out on a blanket in the grass with your friends, Toge, Maki, and Yuta, basking in the pleasant warmth of the early afternoon sun.

The breeze, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, rustled through the leaves of the trees. Birds high above scurried and chirped. The world seemed to slow down for a moment, allowing you all to enjoy this brief respite from the university's hustle.

As you lay there, soaking up the sun, your phone buzzed with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you saw Gojo's name. Your stomach fluttered. You sat up, shielding your phone from the sunlight to read the message.

[3:12 PM] Gojo: Why aren't you here?

[3:12 PM] You: Where?

[3:12 PM] Gojo: With me.

[3:13 PM] You: Just done with class.

[3:13 PM] Gojo: Done with class, but not with me. How about we change that?

[3:14 PM] You: Is that an invitation or a challenge?

[3:14 PM] Gojo: Consider it both. I'm at the cafe, and it's missing your presence.

[3:15 PM] You: How tragic. Perhaps, I could be persuaded to change scenery.

[3:15 PM] Gojo: I'm sure I can provide a few persuasive arguments.

[3:16 PM] You: Such as?

[3:16 PM] Gojo: The best coffee on campus, for starters. And, of course, the pleasure of my company.

[3:17 PM] You: Tempting, professor.

[3:17 PM] Gojo: I aim to convince. Join me, and let's see if I can sway your decision further.

[3:18 PM] You: Give me 5 minutes.

[3:18 PM] Gojo: I'll be waiting, first-year.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Slipping your phone into your pocket, you turned to your friends. "I've got to step out for a bit."

Maki raised an eyebrow. "Mysterious meeting with a certain professor?"

You laughed it off, feeling the warmth of a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Just a coffee break. Nothing to gossip about," you replied, gathering your things.

As you stood up, Maki gave you a knowing look, but she didn't press further. "See you later then," she said with a smile.

You made your way to the campus cafe. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the trees that lined the path, casting dappled shadows on the ground. As you approached, you spotted Gojo waiting outside, casually leaning against a wall. His eyes scanned the crowd until they settled on you.

A smile played on his lips as he pushed off the wall and strolled over to you. "I was starting to think you'd ditched me," he teased, his snow-white hair falling loosely across his forehead.

"Ditching my favorite professor? Never," you quipped back, falling into step beside him. Entering the campus cafe, you both queued up to grab coffees.

"So I'm your favorite, huh?" he said. "I'm flattered."

"Well, you do make things more interesting."

"Is that so?" He leaned in slightly closer. "I'm not just an interesting professor, you know."

"Oh?" you responded, your tone feigning innocence. "Pray, enlighten me, professor Gojo."

His lips curved into a sly smile. "Well, that's a conversation for a different setting."

"Such a tease, professor."

The barista called out for the next order. "An americano for me, and whatever she's having," he said to the woman behind the counter, already reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

"You know I can pay for myself."

He glanced at you. "I know, but I don't want you to."

After picking up your coffees, Gojo guided you through the campus towards its back garden. "Thought we could use a bit of privacy," he said. "Less chance of running into nosy students or colleagues."

As you followed him, the firm pavement turned into a lush, vibrant green carpet of grass and flowers. The garden was in full bloom, with knee-high blossoms exuding a sweet scent that wafted through the air.

Suddenly, he strayed off the path and into the grass. Without a word, he lay down, almost disappearing among the colorful blossoms. He lay on his back, arms folded behind his head, gazing up at the cerulean sky.

"You're really just going to lie down there?"

He looked up at you with a relaxed smile. "Why not? It's a beautiful day. Come, join me."

Hesitantly, you sat down beside him, tucking your legs to the side. The grass was soft and cool beneath you, and the floral scent enveloped you. Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the nearby trees, casting playful, dappled shadows across the two of you.

Your gaze flicked around the area, half-expecting someone to appear. "Aren't you worried about someone seeing us?"

He chuckled, his eyes still fixed on the sky. "There's no one around. And even if there was, we're just two people enjoying a beautiful day. Nothing wrong with that."

Yeah, nothing wrong with a young, stupidly attractive professor and one of his students lying on the grass together.

You watched him for a moment.

Gojo wore his usual white button-down shirt, which accentuated his well-built physique, the top few buttons casually undone. Dark designer sunglasses adorned the bridge of his nose. His sleek white hair was tousled by the gentle breeze that caressed the garden.

As he reclined amid the flourishing garden, the shifting patterns of light and shadow played a mesmerizing dance upon his skin. He seemed to savour every ray of sunlight that touched his skin. The corners of his lips curled upward.

"We have a potential case," he began, shifting to a more serious tone. "There's a patient who might be a perfect candidate for the neurotransplant procedure."

You glanced at his bandaged hand. "Are you sure you're ready for that? With your hand still healing?"

He lifted his hand, testing its movement as he flexed his fingers. "It's healing better than expected. It has to be okay," he said. "Besides, Principal Yaga is really breathing down both mine and Geto's necks about it. He wants to see results."

"And you're okay with that?"

"There's no other way."

You pondered for a second.

"The patient's young, only sixteen," he revealed.

"Sixteen? That's so young," you murmured.

"I know, but he's a perfect fit for this surgery. He wants this chance, and we owe it to him to give our best."

Your brows furrowed.

"I know you're worried," he began. "But trust me, we'll take every necessary precaution. And this time, we have the advantage of everything we've learned so far. We're in this together, and I'll be right there by your side every step of the way."

You smiled faintly.

Gojo propped himself up on one elbow to face you. "What happened to your fearless spirit? When we first met, you suggested an approach in surgery that even I hadn't considered. It was bold, a bit crazy even."

"It was a different situation. That patient was dead either way. So it didn't really matter".

He lay back down, gazing up at the sky. "Wow, how pragmatic of you."

"Aren't you scared? That we mess this up?"

"No, not really. I trust you."

You huffed. Yeah, if only you could have his confidence.

"Why does it always seem like you're so carefree?" you asked him.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Me, carefree? Not exactly. It's more that I've stopped giving a fuck about the small stuff. Stick around in research long enough, and you'll learn to do the same."

"Stopped giving a fuck, huh?" you mused, raising an eyebrow. "That's one way to live a careless life, I suppose."

"It's not about being careless. It's about choosing what deserves your energy and what doesn't."

"And what deserves the energy of one of the most famous neurosurgeons?"

His smile deepened. "Challenging surgeries, medical mysteries and, of course," he paused, " intriguing students who keep me on my toes."

Before you could react, Gojo grasped your shoulders in a swift, unexpected move and pushed you back down onto the grass. Suddenly, you were looking up at him, his face inches from yours, his eyes holding yours in a captivating gaze. Your heart raced.

"Are you insane? What if someone sees us like this?" Panic tinged your voice as you instinctively tried to push him away, but he remained steadfast.

Gojo's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Would it really be that bad?"

He was surely insane.

Yet, your breath caught in your throat as Gojo's eyes burned into yours. You could see the raw desire in his eyes, mirroring your own.

"You're always so tense, first-year," he teased. "Need someone to help you relax?"

"Gojo, we really shouldn't—," you tried to protest. But your body betrayed you, responding to his closeness. You felt your core heating up.

His lips grazed your earlobe, sending delightful shivers cascading down your spine. "Shouldn't what?" he whispered. "Have a little fun?"

Your heart raced as his lips traced a tantalizing path along your jawline, leaving a trail of heated anticipation in their wake. "Gojo," you breathed out, torn between desire and restraint.

Suddenly, Gojo's hand reached out, grasping your wrists that were still pushing against his chest. He pinned your hands above your head, pressing them into the lush grass. 

He paused for a moment, his lips hovering just above yours. "Tell me to stop," he challenged softly.

You swallowed hard, acutely aware of his presence, his warm breath, and his other hand that found its way between your legs. "Gojo, seriously," you whispered. "We're in public."

Yet you couldn't stop yourself from letting your head fall back. Your back arched into him as his fingers traced a slow path along the inside of your leg. "Thrilling isn't it?" His lips moved ever so slightly against the curve of your neck. "Didn't hear the word 'stop' yet."

Yes. 

Fuck.

Please stop. 

Please be the reasonable one of you two.

Because you surely were not able to.

"Gojo, this is crazy." You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to still the rapid beating of your heart. "We can't... not here."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes still locked with yours. "Then tell me to stop."

You knew you should push him away, end this dangerous game before it went any further. But the desire to give in was overwhelming. His fingers continued their slow, deliberate path, now dangerously close to your core. "I'm waiting, first-year."

His touch ventured higher, feather-light yet electrifying, teasing over your most sensitive spot between your legs. A soft moan broke from your lips. Instantly, his hand clamped over your mouth.

"Shh, sweetheart," he cautioned, his breath hot against your lips. "What if someone hears us? We wouldn't want to get caught, now would we?"

With a sly smirk, Gojo pulled back, granting you a moment to catch your breath. He sat upright. "Seems I can't trust you to keep quiet."

Your heart raced as you watched him, unable to form a coherent response. Gojo had a way of leaving you breathless and wanting more, and you couldn't deny that you were drawn to the dangerous game he was playing.

Eventually, Gojo stood up, casually brushing off grass from his clothes. "Break's over," he said, glancing at his watch. "I've got a lecture in 15 minutes."

He extended a hand toward you, offering to help you up. You took his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Standing close, your eyes locked once more, though your gaze briefly dropped, noticing something.

"You can't go lecture like that."

Looking down, Gojo sighed. "Yeah, it always happens with you. Don't worry, I'll just remember your clumsy attempt to draw blood from Okkotsu's arm. That should take care of it."

Oh, how funny.

"By the way, we're starting the surgical practice again tomorrow, right after your last class," he added. "Wear something nice and easy to get rid of."

─── ·✧· ───

You pulled on your surgical gloves, positioning yourself in front of today's human brain test subject. The sun was beginning to set, casting a crimson glow through the windows and onto the sterile surfaces of the lab.

You went straight into action. You stabilized the tissue as Gojo proceeded to implant the neurotransplant into the cerebral cortex. You breathed slowly, trying to keep your hands as still as possible.

You and Gojo worked together in silence. Every muscle tensed. Gojo successfully placed the neuroimplant in the intended location in the brain. However, when it came time to test the connection between the implant and the biometric arm that the patient would eventually use, something went wrong.

The neural signals fluctuated, failing to align with the anticipated patterns. After double-checking the connections and recalibrating the equipment, you traced the issue back to the placement of the implant.

"Looks like the placement is slightly off," you said, examining the data on the screen. "The implant is a bit too far to the right. That's why we're not getting a proper signal."

Gojo sighed. "A fraction of a millimeter off, and it makes all the difference," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the brain before him. "Let's redo this part. We need to make sure we get this right."

You retrieved a fresh brain from the lab's refrigerator. You sure were spending these brains like you get them at the supermarket.

But Gojo wanted perfection. And so did you.

You made the first incision, exposing the underlying area of the brain where the neuroimplant would be placed. Gojo followed with another incision, providing access to the targeted cortical area as you stabilized the tissue. Gojo then carefully placed the neuroimplant in place.

You watched Gojo closely. It was then that you noticed a subtle tremble in his hand.

"Gojo, your hand..."

He glanced at his hand briefly. "It's nothing to worry about," he said. "Just a slight tremor. It'll pass."

He paused for a moment and took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. You watched him, noticing the small beads of sweat that formed on his forehead.

"Gojo, if your hand isn't ready, we should—"

"I know. Just give me a second," he cut you off.

Despite his words, Gojo's hand continued to tremble more noticeably as the procedure carried on. The strain on his face became more evident.

At a crucial point in the procedure, when precision was essential, Gojo's hand shook erratically. He tried to steady it, but the tremor proved too severe. After a moment's hesitation, he abruptly withdrew his hand. He muttered a curse under his breath.

He tore off his surgical gloves, tossing them into the trash with unnecessary force. The sound of his heavy breathing filled the otherwise quiet lab.

You watched him, the room enveloped in stillness.

Gojo leaned heavily against the lab counter, his head hanging low. After a minute, he ran his hands through his hair and met your gaze. "Let's switch roles. I'll take care of the parts I can do with one hand, and you'll handle the critical aspects."

What?

"You mean I should try the implant placement?"

"Yeah," Gojo confirmed. "You've got steady hands, and we just need to ensure it's placed correctly. My hand will heal by the time of the actual surgery."

"I'm not sure, Gojo."

He walked over to you. "We'll need to practice," he continued. "I want to make sure we have every step down perfectly."

"Okay, then let's try it."

So, you prepared again, this time with you in the lead and Gojo at your side, standing close. You glanced at his hand. "Are you sure you can manage with just one hand?"

He smirked. "One hand is all I need to get the job done."

You didn't give him the satisfaction on answering to that.

You began the procedure. 

"You're doing well," he said as you carefully maneuvered the tools. His voice close and calm. Every so often, you caught Gojo flexing his injured hand, working through the discomfort.  Yet, he remained focused on guiding you through the process. "A steeper angle gives you better access... yes, perfect."

The session progressed more smoothly than you had anticipated. As you completed the practice run, a sense of accomplishment washed over you. You had successfully completed the implant placement.

"We make a good team," Gojo remarked. "I knew you could do it."

You found yourself smiling. "Thanks to your guidance, professor."

"Let's try again just to make sure."

You both prepared for another round of practice. As you repeated the procedure, you became acutely aware of Gojo inching closer. His focus seemed to shift away from the procedure to something other.

"Gojo what are you doing?"

Suddenly, you felt him lean in closer from behind. His breath was warm on the back of your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You could feel him subtly inhaling, as if taking in your scent.

"Did you change your shampoo?"

His question caught you off guard, causing a momentary lapse in your focus. "Ehm, yeah."

"Hm. Change it back. I liked the other one better."

You cleared your throat, trying to ease the flutter in your stomach. "We should really focus on—"

Without warning, he reached out and took the surgical tools from your hands. "We've practiced enough for today."

You turned around to face him. "We could still use some more time to—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he leaned in, closing the space between you. "I think there are other things we should be focusing on right now, wouldn't you agree?" he said, his voice a husky whisper.

He set the surgical tools down on the table behind you. Gojo inched even closer, his lips hovering over yours. "Sometimes, first-year," he whispered, his breath mingling with yours, "—it's important to know when to take a break and enjoy the moment."

In a fluid motion, he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on the edge of the lab table. His hands were planted firmly on either side of you. Your pulse quickened as you looked up into his crystal blue eyes, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

"Hard work should be rewarded," he went on. "Don't you think so?"

You couldn't find the words to respond, your breaths growing shallow. He reached up, his fingers grasping your hair at the nape of your neck. His tilted your head back, exposing the delicate skin of your neck to his gaze. 

"Tell me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck, "where should I start?" His mouth met your skin, planting deliberate, slow kisses along your neck. Your breath hitched.

His hands slipped beneath your shirt, pulling you closer until your chest pressed against his. His fingers began to explore the skin underneath your shirt. The sensation of his touch was like fire, sparking a heat within you that you hadn't known before.

He trailed his lips down to your collarbone, each kiss a question. "Should I start here?"

Your arms found their way around his neck, pulling him even closer. The realization that you were crossing a line was there, in the back of your mind, but it was overshadowed by the overwhelming need to be close to him.

Breathless, hearts racing, you both surrendered to the moment. He pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. In an instant, his lips found your collarbone once more, trailing down to your chest. "Or here?" His warm, wet breath brushed against your skin. His fingers dug into your hips.

"Gojo," you breathed out, unable to say anything other than his name.

"What is it, sweetheart? Tell me, where do you need it?" He placed soft, lingering kisses down your chest until he reached your breasts. The sensation sent a wave of warmth through you as he kissed the skin right above the hem of your bra.

Then, in one fluid motion, Gojo knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours. He lifted one of your legs, placing it over his shoulder. With his hand, he pushed the other away, spreading your legs apart. Unable to support yourself on the table any longer, you leaned back.

He continued, placing kisses over the fabric of your jeans, from your knee up to your thighs. "How do you like it here?"

He persisted in his journey up to your sensitive spot, mere inches away from it, his face nestled between your legs. "Tell me, should I start here, sweetheart?"

Overwhelmed, you leaned back further on the table, resting on your elbows for support. Then, accidentally, you pushed the glass container holding the brain, causing it to tip over. The preservative liquid spilled across the table, drenching both of you. You sat up abruptly.

Gojo pulled back. "Did you just spill brain fluid on us?"

"I guess I did," you admitted, still trying to process what had just happened. Here you were, in the middle of a lab, drenched in preservation fluid from a human brain, right before... well, you'd rather not think about it.

Gojo stood up, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Well, that's one way to cool down." He offered you a hand to help you stand up properly. "We should call it quits for today."

You stood, glancing down at your drenched jeans, still feeling the remnants of his kisses and touches on your heated skin.

He leaned in. "You know, if you wanted to get me wet, there are far more enjoyable ways to do it." Then he backed away with a playful smirk.

Back home, you tossed your shampoo bottle into the trash.

─── ·✧· ───

The day of the surgery had finally arrived.

You methodically scrubbed your hands and arms, the sterile scent of the hospital soap filling the room. Through the window, you could see the young patient being prepared in the operating room. He smiled nervously as the nurse inserted the anesthesia needle into his arm. 

Is he more nervous or are you? Perhaps you.

The observation gallery was filling up with hospital staff and the usual press, setting up cameras to document the high-stakes surgery. The weight of their gazes, even from a distance, was palpable, intensifying the pressure.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. Gojo hadn't arrived yet. Your heart rate quickened slightly. You reminded yourself that Gojo's hand had been functioning perfectly in the days leading up to the surgery. There was nothing to worry about, right?

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself. As you continued your preparations, the door to the washing room opened, and Geto stepped in.

"Geto," you greeted him, trying to mask your surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to wish you luck," he replied with an easy smile. "But I guess you're so prepared you won't need any."

"Thank you."

"I'll be cheering on you from the observation gallery."

You nodded. After a moment of silence, you said, "Do you know where Gojo is? He should have been here by now."

Geto's brow furrowed. "Hm? I'm not sure, actually. He didn't mention anything to me about being late."

Your stomach turned. It was unlike Gojo to be late, especially on a day like this. "I need to find him," you said, removing your gloves.

"Should I come with you?"

"No, I'll be fine."

You hurried out of the washing room, your mind racing. Where could Gojo be? Was it because of his hand? Or something else? You quickened your pace, moving through the corridors of the hospital, checking every possible place where Gojo could be.

Pulling out your phone, you called Gojo's number. But he didn't answer. You tried calling again, each ring echoing your growing anxiety. Still, silence.

You reached his office. The door was shut and no one answered when you knocked. Taking a deep breath, you cautiously opened it and peered into the dimly lit room.

The blinds were drawn, casting the office in near darkness. Your eyes adjusted, and that's when you saw him—Gojo, slumped against the wall, his legs sprawled on the floor, head tilted back.

Your heart sank as you saw him.

No.

No.

This can't be real.

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. You knelt in front of him. Gently, you cupped his pale face in your hands, urging him to look at you. His usually sharp eyes were unfocused as they struggled to fix on you.

No doubt.

"Satoru," you whispered, his first name escaping your lips. There was no need to address him by his last name anymore, was there?

Not anymore.

His slightly glassy eyes flickered, showing a glimmer of recognition, but he seemed distant, lost in a world of his own—clouded by whatever substance he had taken.

The realization hit you hard.

"Satoru," you called his name again, more urgently this time. 

His lips parted, an attempt at speech, but only a slurred, indistinct sound emerged. It was painful to see him like this, to witness the downfall of a person you respected and cared so deeply for. Your skin run cold with fear.

"Fuck, Satoru what are you doing?" you asked, your fingers tenderly stroking his cheek. You needed answers, but more than that, you needed to understand why. 

Why? 

Why today?

Why Satoru?

You shook him slightly, trying to get any response from him. "Satoru, answer me!"

His focus sharpened slightly, and he murmured, "God, you look so beautiful today."

You shook your head. "What are you saying?"

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm you. Right now, you needed to be strong—for him, for the patient waiting in the OR, and for the team depending on you both.

"We need to call this surgery off," you said as you tried to stand up but his grip on your wrist halted you.

"No, wait!" he said. "We can't call it off."

"What?"

"There's too much at stake. If we don't go through with it today, the project will be dead. The funding, everything we've worked for, will be lost."

"Are you insane? You're fucking high, you can't operate!"

He tilted his head up to meet your gaze. "You can."

Gojo's words hit you like a ton of bricks. "You are insane." You stared at him. "I can't do that."

"You're prepared for this," he countered, gaining a semblance of clarity in his speech. "You know the procedure inside and out. You've practically done it already."

"Don't ask this of me, Satoru," you pleaded, feeling the weight of the responsibility he was trying to place on your shoulders.

Shakily, he stood up, his hands gripping your shoulders. "You can do it," he insisted. "I know you can and I'll be there to assist you."

"Geto is also here, he should do it. "

"Suguru hasn't trained for this specific approach. He won't be able to do it without harming the patient. But you can."

"Then we call it off!" you raised your voice, feeling trapped.

"No, you should do it. You need to do this."

You stared at him, lost for words. The intensity in Gojo's eyes was undeniable, his grip on your shoulders firm yet pleading. "You are the only one who can do this now. And I'll be there to guide you. You have the skills, the knowledge. You've done it before, you can do it again."

"This is insane. You can't assist in your condition," you whispered, holding back tears.

"Give me a few minutes and I'll be ready. I swear."

You studied his face, the redness in his eyes betraying his current state. "Fuck, Satoru. Why are you making me do this?"

"You can do it, I know you can."

Silence.

You nodded.

Stepping into the OR your heart raced. Sweat broke out on your forehead. You moved as if in a trance, the reality of the situation numbing your senses. You and Gojo scrubbed up, then walked into the OR where the patient lay prepped and waiting.

You took your position at the operating table where Satoru was supposed to stand. You could feel the weight of numerous eyes on you; could hear them whispering, but no one dared to say anything. Not with Satoru Gojo beside you. No one dared to question him.

Your eyes darted to the gallery. You saw Geto rise from his seat, his brows furrowed as he stepped closer to the glass in front of him.

"Ignore him," Gojo whispered beside you. "Focus on what's in front of you."

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you turned your attention back to the patient, the ridiculous young patient lying open skull in front of you.

Then you held out your hand to Satoru. "Scalpel, please."

─── ·✧· ───

The clapping around you was a distant sound, barely reaching your ears as you stepped back from the operating table. The surgery was a success. Stress and adrenaline abruptly left your body, leaving you feeling suddenly empty and nauseous.

You run over to the corner of the OR, barely making it to the trash bin before succumbing to the overwhelming urge to vomit. Your body shook with each heave.

The whole room suddenly fell silent.

After vomiting into the trash bin, your body shaking from the sudden release of tension, you pushed your way out of the OR. You heard Satoru call your name, but chose to ignore it. You needed space; you needed to get away from him.

You rushed through the sterile corridors of the hospital. Finally reaching a bathroom, you locked yourself in, pressing your back against the door as you fought to steady your breathing.

The clinical smell of the bathroom was sickening. 

The sterile exterior felt sickening. 

Everything felt sickening in that moment.

You splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the remnants of nausea and regain your composure.

Fuck, you whispered. 

Fuck. 

Fuck.

Fuck!

Your hands clenched tightly around the edge of the sink, knuckles white with tension. Tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill over, but you willed them back.

Why did it feel like your heart was being torn to shreds?

Your breaths came in rapid succession, shallow and uneven, as panic threatened to take over. But you couldn't let it. Not now. Falling apart was not an option. You forced yourself to take slow, deliberate breaths.

Inhale. Exhale. 

Inhale. Exhale.

With one final, deep breath, you pushed open the bathroom door. Pulling out your phone, you called Geto without hesitation. "Where are you?" you demanded, cutting through any pleasantries.

"In my office."

You hung up and marched straight to his office, pushing the door open without bothering to knock.

"When did you want to tell me he's a fucking addict?" You yelled at him.

Geto stood up, his hands planted firmly on his desk. "When did you want to tell me you're fucking him?" he shot back, his voice equally furious.

You didn't even spend the breath to correct him. 

You approached him. "I didn't know my love life concerns you that much."

"Don't you get it? He's your professor, he's lecturing you, you're working on this project together that could shape your whole career. What was that even about just now? Why did you do the surgery?"

"Because Gojo was high, damn it! He was fucking high!" Your frustration boiled over, your hands tugging at your hair as you paced the room.

"You should have called off the surgery! What were you thinking?"

"Huh?" You turned to him. "What I was thinking? What were you thinking? Why didn't you tell me? You knew, didn't you?"

He sank back into his chair, tilting his head back as he let out a heavy sigh. "I thought he had it under control."

Was he for real?

"Under control?" you hissed. "Since when do addicts have their addiction under control?"

The room fell silent.

"You should have told me, Geto," you said as you sat down on the chair in from of his desk. 

Geto leaned forward, rummaging through his coat pocket. He retrieved a cigarette and lighter. As he lit it, the flame briefly illuminated his face in a warm, orange glow. The cigarette's tip crackled softly, the smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals.

"Smoking in the office now?"

As he took a slow drag, the cigarette's cherry end burned brighter, and he inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs. A sense of calm seemed to wash over him, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly as he exhaled a thin plume of smoke into the room.

"Does it matter anymore?" he said as he took another drag from his cigarette. He leaned back, the creak of the leather chair punctuating the silence. His dark eyes were fixed on you. Wisps of smoke curled around him.

"When did it start? With Gojo?" you asked him.

His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he continued to study you. Then his eyes drifted away for a moment.

"It started back in our university days," he finally said. "Satoru was always the charismatic one, the life of every gathering. Back then, it was just for fun, a way to let off steam, to unwind after exam periods."

The ember of his cigarette glowed brighter with each drag, casting a faint light on his face. "But over time it got worse. The occasional use became more frequent, and he lost control. He started needing the drugs just to get through the day. On good days, he could mask it, but on the bad ones..."

He trailed off.

"He tried to quit, to get clean, but it's... he developed such a high tolerance for it that he could easily take drugs and still function. Eventually, he became an expert at hiding his addiction."

Your stomach tightened. The truth felt like a heavy stone on your chest, and it refused to go away. Then your phone rang with a message. Startled, you reached for it. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw the name.

[5:43 PM] Gojo: Where are you?

"Message from your lover?" Geto asked dryly, rising from his seat to get something out of a cupboard.

You tucked your phone back into your pocket. "He wants to know where I am." 

"Of course he wants to know." Geto remarked, returning to his desk with a bottle and two glasses. He poured a rich, dark liquid into the glasses, sliding one towards you.

"I don't really drink," you said, observing him take a sip of his whiskey.

"What a shame."

"What happens to the project now?" 

Geto laughed. "The project? It was a full success, wasn't it? The neurotranplant worked. The surgery worked. The media will love the story of a young, brilliant surgeon performing such a groundbreaking procedure. They'll be even more fascinated when they find out you're still a student."

"You find this amusing?"

"Not really. It's my project, after all," he replied, taking another sip. He set his glass down, his gaze meeting yours. "They'll want you to lead more surgeries like this one, to further validate the technique."

"I don't think I can do that again. Just the thought of it makes me sick."

Your phone vibrated again.

[5:48 PM] Gojo: Where the hell are you?

[5:48 PM] Gojo: Talk to me.

You stared at the screen.

"You want to go to him?"

"No." Without hesitation, you reached for the glass of liquor, tilted your head back, and swallowed the drink in one fluid motion. The alcohol burned in your throat. "I want to leave."

"Should I drive you home?" 

"No, I'm fine," you said, setting the empty glass back on the desk with a slight clink.

─── ·✧· ───

After leaving Geto's office, you made your way to the elevator, lost in thought. The doors slid open, and you were jolted back to reality by the sight of Satoru leaning against the wall inside the elevator. His eyes looked up at you.

No way.

Before you could react or step aside, the people behind you, caught up in their own hurry, pushed forward, shoving you into the elevator. The confined space forced you to stand close to Satoru, your back to him.

The elevator began its descent. The people around you chattered, but you felt that the silence between you and Satoru was louder. You could feel his presence only centimeters away. The close quarters left no room for avoidance, and you were acutely aware of every breath Satoru took.

The elevator ride felt like an eternity, each second stretching out as you struggled to maintain your composure.

"You smell like smoke," Satoru observed quietly.

"Are you still high?" you retorted under your breath, not turning to face him.

"I'm good."

"You're good?" you echoed. "How can you even say that after what happened today?"

"You're angry."

"Angry is an understatement," you replied, turning slightly.

He leaned closer, wrinkling his nose. "Did you drink?" he asked, a bit too loudly. "Are you drunk?"

"It's none of your business, Satoru."

As the elevator stopped and its doors slid open, you saw your chance to escape and quickly maneuvered through the crowd. You wanted to put as much distance between you and him as possible.

The lobby of the hospital was a blur as you rushed through it, Satoru's voice calling after you, but you ignored him. You wanted nothing more than to get away from him.

You pushed through the exit doors and stepped outside, only to be greeted by a heavy downpour. The rain drenched you almost instantly, but you hardly noticed.

His footsteps splashed behind you. "Talk to me!" he called out, his voice barely audible over the sound of the pouring rain.

You quickened your pace, the rain streaming down your face. Your heart ached as you tried to distance yourself from the situation, from Satoru, from everything.

"Enough of this crap already! Talk to me!"

"Leave me alone, Satoru!"

"Then just tell me!" he implored, his tone desperate. "Tell me, will it ever stop?"

You halted, but didn't turn to face him. The rain was relentless, soaking through your clothes, matting your hair against your face. "What do you mean?" you called over the downpour.

"Wanting you—every damn second of every fucking day. I don't think I can take it anymore."

His words cut through the sound of the rain, raw and unguarded. For a moment, you were speechless, his confession hanging heavily in the air between you. You slowly turned to face him, seeing in his eyes a tumult of emotions that mirrored your own.

"Satoru—," your voice barely rose above the rain.

"I can't ignore it," he said, taking a step towards you, closing the gap. "I've tried, believe me, I've tried. But it's always there—you are always there."

Your heart pounded against your chest as he stopped mere inches away from you. Raindrops trickled down his face, cascaded down his striking white hair, which clung to his forehead and temples.

"So tell me," he urged. "Will it ever stop? Because I don't know if I can take it much longer."

You were both soaked to the skin, standing in the middle of the downpour, the world around you blurring into insignificance.

"It's killing me, pretending not to want you is killing me," he said quietly.

He stepped closer. His hands reached out, gently cupping your face.

Then, he kissed you.

Without warning, without permission.

Without even deciding to do it, simply because he couldn't not do it.

His lips pressed firmly against yours, molding to their contours as if they had been crafted to fit together. The world around you faded away, leaving only the sensation of his warm breath mingling with yours, the electrifying touch of his fingers on your cheek, and the intoxicating taste of his mouth.

Your hands found their way to his rain-soaked shirt, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if you were afraid he might disappear if you let go. His mouth moved hungrily against yours, and you responded in kind, as if trying to convey all the unspoken words and feelings that had lingered between you for far too long.

As the rain poured down, you tasted rainwater mixed with his unique flavor, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. You finally gave in to the undeniable pull that had drawn you together, allowing it to consume you completely.

Because that's how it felt. Satoru Gojo consumed you.

His tongue grazed your lower lip, seeking permission to explore further, and you willingly granted access. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth, caressing and teasing, his urgency and intensity increasing with each passing second.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. Your bodies pressed closer together. His hands roamed your body with a newfound boldness, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, and the nape of your neck. Each touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but respond in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair.

But as you kissed, the reality of what had just happened crashed over you like the waves of the rainstorm around you. In that fleeting moment, you hesitated, and Satoru pulled back.

Separated now, both of you stood there, breathless and drenched by the rain. He lowered his forehead to rest against yours. His arms remained loosely around you. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No, it's... don't speak."

You both stood there under the relentless downpour, the rain streaming down your face, mirroring the tears that had started to well up in your eyes. Satoru reached up to tenderly brush away the tears that slipped down your cheeks.

The silence stretched between you, filled with words you were too afraid to say.

Then you pushed away and turned.

You walked away.

He didn't follow you.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: let the angsty and hurtful part of the story begin haha. as always thank you for reading ♡

🏷️  @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

[andswarwrites]

Day 16

This is the first time so far this month that I am deviating from what I had planned to write for the day.  I'd planned to talk about some of the challenges N- faces, but I decided those are her stories to tell, and not mine.  Even though she is very open about what she goes through in life, and I checked with her to ask if I had her permission to write on the subject, I still can't do it.  So rather than talk about the challenges she copes with, I'd like to discuss her gifts.  Specifically, how this kid just breathes music.

I wonder how much her father and I had to do with that.  I remember making playlists of music I loved from a wide range of genres and playing them for entire afternoons while pregnant, because I knew that even while in the womb, a baby can hear music.  Now N- was a very active infant, she was constantly moving and kicking, but while music played she would go still.  Unless she objected to the song, that is.  How do I know she kicked me when she disliked the song, you ask?  Because after she was born, she would cry when I played those same songs that had made her kick me.

Spending five weeks in the N.I.C.U. meant my baby got accustomed to constant noise: voices, alarms, the phone ringing.  We were warned that our baby might have trouble falling asleep in absolute silence.  We came up with a solution: we put on Muse albums to help her fall asleep, specifically Absolution and The Resistance.  S- and I had a habit of listening to music in the car, and N- was introduced at a very young age to Daft Punk, Queen, POTUS, The Beatles, Daughter, the list goes on.

The house that my parents had built was furnished with a piano, and whenever my mom would visit, she would play.  I have a video I took of Mom playing, and N- sitting in her high chair next to her grandmother, babbling happily and running her chubby little fingers over the keys.  Mom noticed that unlike other children, who had a tendency to pound on the keys, N- would actually make little melodies.  Mom purchased My First Piano Adventure books for my daughter, and every time they saw one another, they'd have a lesson. 

When we moved to the South Shore my Mom recommended that we get N- a keyboard and look for a teacher for her.  There was a Long and McQuade near our house, and we saw that they were offering piano lessons, so we signed our daughter up. N-'s teacher was a quiet, gentle young man, who went above and beyond just teaching.  For example, N- composed a piece, and her teacher transcribed it for her.  He gave it to her as a gift.  At the start of the pandemic, N- could no longer have her lessons in person, so for a while she had them over Zoom.

Unfortunately, N-'s teacher had to find other work, so he could no longer continue N-'s lessons.  That was when N- began to take lessons with my mom.  In order for that to work, I have to be in the room, because once her fingers touch the keys N- is in her own little world, so if my mom wants to say anything to her at all, I need to intervene, to help Mom get through to her student.  And we've learned that in order to get N- to focus on music theory, she can't sit in front of the piano; the keys are like a magnet to her fingers.

My sister gave N- a guitar.  N- likes to play it, but she doesn't have endurance: the strings hurt her fingertips.  I told her if she perseveres she'll get callouses, but she's not quite ready to suffer for her art.  N- and I also sing together.  I get into trouble when I don't respect the timing of the song, however.  N- and I have very similar music tastes; she introduced me to Chillhop, and her current favorite group is Crystal Castles.  Her Dad has very specific music tastes, and N- will request certain songs from his SoundCloud, again, driving in the car.

I think of our family's music tastes like a venn diagram.  There's my tastes and there's S-'s and there's N-'s, and there are songs both S- and I agree on, and there are songs that both N- and I agree on, and there are songs S- and N- agree on, and then, in the middle, are the songs the whole family can listen to happily.  I guess that's how all families are.  Except maybe some families don't really have music they can all enjoy together.  I'm so glad that's not the case with our family.  I'd say S- is the pickiest of the three of us, and when he likes a sound he can listen to it on repeat for months, and then he substitutes it for a new song or collection of songs.  For a while it was Bad Lip Reading; that was actually pretty fun.

You know something I just realized?  S- and I have always wanted to include N- in what we enjoy doing: before she was even born I couldn't wait to share our music with her, my favorite books, our favorite shows, our favorite movies, our favorite meals and treats.  Of course we want her to have her own preferences, and we respect them, in fact it delights me when she shares with me that she now has a favorite movie, book, color, style.  As she comes into her own, in so many different ways, I am even influenced by her.  I respect her opinion and personal style.

And to wrap up, when it comes to music, she has it in her very soul.  She always has.  Ever since she started playing her own compositions, I could detect her mood based on the piece she was creating.  When her hamster died, she composed a dirge, and you could hear how much her little heart was mourning.  Other times, she simply overflows with happiness.  I hope she will continue to express herself through her music, all her life.  Just like my writing keeps me grounded, I think her music will help her to process the ups and downs she goes through.  And what an amazing gift, to create something that others can enjoy and relate to.

[sanjithesimp]

♡ needy ft. megumi fushiguro ♡

a/n: omggg this is my first megumi fic, i literally took a week to write it but it's finally here. give it some love <3

megumi fushiguro x fem reader

w.c: 2.1k words

warnings: nsfw (minors DNI). oral sex (megumi receiving). unprotected sex. vaginal sex. pussy slap.

summary: rough sex with the shy, weird, quiet guy?

playlist suggested to listen while you read this &lt;3

you rolled your eyes as you saw him walk past you, he acted like he was better than everyone. and maybe he was, but why did he had to look down on everyone? he was so arrogant and it was one of the many reasons why you hated him.

the only people that really talked to him were nobara and yuuji, but apart from them he would ignore everyone. it was already a nightmare that you went in the same year, but the worst was when you had to go on missions with him, mainly because he felt like he had to be in charge and basically do everything because he didn’t want any of the others to ruin it, or cause him problems.

“i’m not going” you said to gojo after he was partnering you up with fushiguro for yet another mission.

“it’s not like i want you on my team, anyways” he said, his eyes rolling.

“you two are going together. end of discussion” gojo said as you walked towards where ijichi was waiting.

once you got to the location where the curses had been attacking, ijichi started to create a veil for protection of the area. megumi and you didn’t said a word to each other, you just did what you were best at, exorcising curses.

“i don’t want any mistakes, y/n” megumi said, as he walked in front of you, not even looking at you. what a dick.

“oh please, look who’s talking…you should get fucked” you said and walked past him, not waiting for a response. you ignored him and continued to scan the building, as in any moment curses could start attacking in any moment.

and just as you predicted it, curses started to appear from the shadows and the old furniture. they were everywhere, but this time you had everything under control. it didn’t matter if megumi was there or not, you could handle it yourself.

or at least that’s what you thought, before a special grade started to attack fushiguro. it came completely out of nowhere and some other curses were still attacking you. so you decided to first get rid of them, and go help your partner, even if it was fushiguro.

it took more than what you thought it would, and after getting dangerously cut on your arm you saved him, and you both finished the mission, exorcising the curse.

“thank you, y/n” he said, and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing so you scoffed.

“i just did my job, nothing else, wasn’t planning on saving you” you answered dryly, not looking at him.

“you didn’t have to come at me like that, you know” megumi said as you both walked back to jujutsu tech.

“i mean, you had everything in control right?”you rolled your eyes, you had worst fights than this and now he was crying about it.

“no..i mean, what you said earlier..” he really sounded different, why was he hurt about something like this.

“what? about getting fucked? i mean-..look at you, always looking down on everyone, being so uptight, you really sound like-” he pushed you into an ally, and pinned you down.

“say that again.”his lips were dangerously close to yours, his grip was strong and you couldn’t move at all.

“i said, that you need to get fucked” and then your lips connected with his, then you pressed your body to his as the kiss intensified, feeling his hardness over his uniform. your hand traveled all the way to where his pants were tenting, palming his bulge as he nipped your neck, making him groan from your touch.

“you sure you wanna play it like that?”he whispered in your ear, as his hand slipped under your skirt, feeling the wetness on your panties. you were embarrassed whereas megumi had a smirk drawn across his face, enjoying the effect he had on you.

“look how wet you are already, and i didn’t even touch you” you squirmed as you felt him pushing your panties to the side, his fingers brushing your bare cunt. “now keep quiet, unless you wanna get caught” he covered your mouth with his other hand, as he slipped two fingers inside you.

soft moans came out of your mouth as he started pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling them to get to that spot, sending electric shocks through your spine every time he reached it. you tried to be quiet, but he made it impossible. “i think you can take another one, don’t you love?” so he slipped a third finger inside you. he stretched you out so well, it felt heavenly every time he pushed them deeper inside you, the painful burn being substituted by pure pleasure, making you wonder how would his cock fill inside you. was it as thick as your friends and you had imagined it. following the thought that the shy quiet guys always had the biggest and girthy cocks you had ever seen.

“i think you’re ready for me now” he said and slipped his fingers out of you, and then licked your juices off them. “you taste fucking amazing, y/n” and then pulled you in for a desperate kiss, his tongue finding its way through your mouth, as he moaned at the feeling of his painful hardness grazing your cunt over the fabric.

then he slipped his cock out of his pants, revealing the most beautiful cock you had ever seen, slightly tilted to the right, covered in protruding veins, and pinkish tip drooling precum. and as you had imagined, it was big and long, suddenly making you panic thinking about how would he would fit inside you. you whimpered in anticipation of how fucking well he was going to stretch you out.

“i know you can take it all” he said, as he pumped it a few times, a few drops of precum smeared your thighs. then he placed both hands on your ass and lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist as well as your arms around his neck. your back resting on a wall.

his cock was rubbing against your sensitive cunt, making you hiss as you wanted desperately to have him inside you. feel his girth wrapped around your cunt as he fucked you into oblivion. he rubbed himself on your cunt a few more times, teasing you before slipping it in. you felt the burn inch by inch, until he bottomed out.

megumi loved watching your face contort, your short lived breaths as he slipped every inch of him into your tight walls, stretching them out to adjust exactly to him. it made him even harder to think that he fitted perfectly inside you, as if your cunt only belonged to him.

his thrusts started off slow and sloppy, making you groan in frustration as you wanted him to fuck you senseless. you watched as his cock slowly disappeared inside you, making you squirm as you missed being filled with his cock. he drank away every moan you let out, making his ego grow even a little more. knowing that even the girl that hated him the most, was so weak for him.

you looked at him, as he furrowed his brows focused on the slow movement of his hips as fucked your cunt. you had never really taken a real look at his features, the sharpness of his jawline, his green eyes, and his soft lips. you had always hated him so much, that you didn’t want to spend a second on looking at him, but now that you were so close to him…something had changed in you, but you would never admit it to him.

“what are you looking at?” he said, mocking you. so you directed your look elsewhere.

“i- fuck you” you said, and then bucked your hips, taking him by surprise and making him groan.

“you already are, love” he said as his fingers started on rubbing and pinching your nipple, making you moan loud, which almost got you in problems. you regretted letting out that moan, as megumi slapped your cunt, the stinging pain of the impact made you cry, partly from the pain but also the pleasure that you felt from the contact.

“fuck you are dumb, aren’t ya?” fushiguro said as he covered your mouth once again”shut the fuck up and take it like the good girl you have been” he said, and you nodded. then continued on fucking you, rewarding you as he increased the pace. feeling the coil on your belly tightening as he bullied his cock into you as he kept on rubbing your puffy clit with his finger pads and before you knew you came squirted and came hard all over his cock. you felt embarrassed that you didn’t last that long. fushiguro would let everyone know how needy and weak you were from how fast you came on his cock.

and as if he could read your mind, he whispered in your ear “don’t worry, you did great y/n” and he continued fucking you, reaching his own high. his thrusts got sloppier and desperate as he felt your cunt tighten around him.

“ahh, you’re so fucking tight y/n” his cock twitching inside you, making you squirm as you clawed your nails to his shoulder blades, leaving marks and scratches all over them. biting your lower lip so hard it started bleeding.

groans and moans came out of megumi’s mouth as he fucked his cum into you, not letting a drop out of you as he praised on how well you felt around his cock. and how fucking hot you looked all fucked out as he kept on thrusting you.

he rested his forehead on yours, a small smile drawn across his face glistened with sweat.

“it’s not over, yet” you said, as you slowly got down on your knees, your eyes glued to megumi’s, making you watch the little show you were putting on for him.

you took his cock on your hand, and licked your lips. you weren’t going to leave it like that, and letting megumi win. you wanted to see him weak and needy for you. you started pumping his cock, slow movements as his cock hardened again.

“eyes on me, fushiguro” you said as he had thrown his head back. his breathing had increased and soft moans were coming out of his mouth. now that you had his attention again, you spat on his cock, watching as your drool slowly fell on the tip of his cock.

then you started giving his tip kitten licks, and then sucking on it as you kept eye contact with the spiky haired man. you watched him moan and whimper as your teeth grazed his sensitive cock. you rubbed your thighs together, loving how fucking hot it felt to be in control.

you then started taking him inside your mouth, inch by inch until you felt his tip on your throat, making you gag. “fuck, y/n” fushiguro said as you kept on bobbing your head up and down, slurping on his cock.

“you’re so fucking good, y/n” he said, bucking his hips and fucking your mouth, making you gag and moan over his fat cock, drool gathering around your chin.

his cock was throbbing as your tongue traced the veins that covered his length, precum leaking from his pink tip as he pulled a few strands of your hair. “that’s good, yeah..” he said as you kept on sucking him off, feeling the inside of your cheeks tighten around his cock. that was it for him, he couldn’t last longer, filling your mouth with his hot cum while he moaned your name.

“you weren’t bad at all either” you said to him after recovering from your orgasm, and he fixed his clothes before continuing the trip back to the school.

you both laughed. a thing you had never thought you would do together, well apart from what just had happened, but you had realized that maybe he wasn’t that terrible.

“don’t think that this makes us friends in any way, got it?” you said, once you reached the dorms.

he then rolled his eyes and smiled.

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

[wormstacheangel]

When Dean finally rescued Cas from the empty, he expected a happy reunion. He envisioned a strong hug like the first time he had escaped. He expected a long-awaited kiss and repeated confessions that weren’t said with sorrow or heartache. He expected to find the same Cas that was taken, but that would have been too easy.

Cas was left awake, alone, and in complete darkness for months on end.

So when Dean went into the empty, ready to wake up the love of his life, he found Cas curled in on himself—staring blankly out into the void of nothingness. He whispered something so softly and quickly that Dean couldn’t pick up on the actual words, but it sounded familiar. Almost like he was humming a song.

Dean tried to get him to stand up on his own, but he quickly realized that Cas wasn’t even looking at him. His gaze was distant, seeing something Dean can’t even imagine. He then noticed the white film over his eyes dimmed the once bright blue.

His fingertips gently traced over the skin he had only dreamt of touching for months before he took a deep, shaky breath to steady himself. With that slight pause, Dean used whatever desperate strength he had and dragged Cas back to the portal.

Back home.

As they got closer, the light of the portal seemed to startle Cas, and he started to shove Dean away. Dean had to put Cas down so he could take his green jacket off and place it over Cas’s head to calm him before he slowly continued to walk through the portal and into the bunker’s library where Jack, Rowena, Eileen, and Sam were waiting for them.

When they walked through, Dean quickly shushed them as he fell to his knees with Cas still in his arms, hidden under the jacket, and covering his ears at the sudden loud voices surrounding them.

Dean looked around at his family, all sharing the same worried glances knowing they were on the same page. Cas’s welcome home party would be pushed back until further notice.

Cas didn’t cry. His expression didn’t change much at all. All Cas did was sit or lay on Dean’s bed with the lights off. All but the desk light. It was an old lightbulb, so the light wasn’t a bright white like the rest of the place. Instead, it illuminated a soft golden glow against the wall.

Cas squinted at it at first, blinking so inhumanly at it, until all Cas did was stare at it. Whenever Dean made any move to turn it off or even just get near the lamp, Cas made a little whine at the back of his throat.

Little noises were the most Dean can get out of Cas. At least it brought him a little relief. It meant Cas could see him at that moment.

Cas still did that rapid talking or singing whenever it was a little bit too quiet. It made Dean wonder if Cas knew he was out of the Empty. Especially during those times when he would stare right past him, unblinking with cold eyes.

It was only the end of the second week when Dean broke down.

[continue under the cut or on AO3]

He didn’t mean to. He was trying so damn hard to keep it together, especially in front of Cas, but one night he just lost it. He can blame the lack of booze in his system, or as he wants, he can blame Sam, who came up to him about a stupid case. It pissed him off more than it should have. The fact that Sam even believed for a second that he would leave the bunker while Cas was like-well the way he was, just gave him enough of an excuse to raise his voice at someone.

Eileen had to step in and tell him to cool off.

Dean stormed off without a glance back and went to his room. He changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed beside Cas. He laid on his stomach as he wrapped one arm over the top of Cas’s waist, scooting close enough so that he could rest his head on Cas’s shoulder. He then opened his mouth to wish him goodnight just like every night, but something in Dean just broke.

He felt the pressure rise up his throat as he tried to hide his face into the familiar body beside him, but the sob still came.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me so long to go get you. Fuck, Cas, please.” Dean took a shaky breath, sniffling as he reached to hold Cas’s hand closer to him. “We missed- I...I missed you. I missed you so much, Cas.” Dean brought Cas’s hand up to his lips and kissed the knuckles before letting the hand rest by his head. His eyes closed as he sighs, “I love you. So come back to me, okay?"

The only response Dean got was a squeeze of the hand, which was enough hope for the future, and more than Dean could have ever asked for at that moment.

As the days went on, Cas didn’t change. Literally and figuratively. He was still an angel, so there was no need for him to shower or brush his teeth, but Dean swore that Cas’s facial hair was growing, so he liked shaving him at least once a week. Cas seemed to like it by the humming noise he made.

They did learn a couple of things as the days went on.

One, peace and quiet are not what they strive for.

It only brought Cas anxiety, and his humming or singing became much louder and more desperate. They fixed that problem with a Bluetooth speaker constantly playing music in the background, a playlist Jack made mixed in with a playlist Jack helped Dean make. It made the humming stop, and Cas started to roll over in bed. He even sat back against the headboard with his eyes closed a few times.

A month after Cas got back, Dean's phone died in the middle of the night, and the silence must have gotten to him. He covered his ears while he started muttering to himself again. Dean woke up and pulled Cas to his chest while softly sing to him in his still half-asleep phase. He didn’t know why that was his first instinct, but he went along with it cause it started to calm Cas down. Then, Cas held him back for the first time—tucking his head right under Dean's jaw and relaxing.

Dean tried not to stiffen at the touch; if he were honest with himself, he would admit he was trying not to cry because he was busy singing. Busy, not wanting to disrupt this moment.

That night Dean sang all night long until Jack checked on them in the early hours and connected his phone.

Two, always have a light source on.

The lamp was the first one they had. Cas constantly wanted it on, but it bothered Dean all the time when he wanted to sleep. So they bought a cool starlight projector, Sam’s idea, that kept the light on the cement ceiling and not on Dean’s face. Cas seemed to enjoy it as he laid on his back, watching it all night, letting Dean curl up on his side as he slept through the night.

Three, never leave Cas alone.

Nobody wanted to leave Cas alone for more than a minute if they could help it. So they made plans to keep him company at all hours of the day. Of course, they weren’t crowding him. They all came in one by one, except for Dean, who would say, “This is my room. I get to come and go as I damn well please.”

Sam liked to sit by Cas's side and talk nerd like they usually would while cleaning his guns or doing research to help another hunter. He would even pause during the one-way conversation to give Cas some time to answer or try to imagine what Cas would say in that situation. Sam was always calm, wanting to keep it as normal as possible while Cas just stared at him, sometimes his eyebrows knitted together, and Dean had to excuse himself as he felt his chest tighten up.

Eileen sat by his side and watched shows she liked while she talked to Cas out loud and signed so he could hear her voice. Even then, she didn’t talk much. Instead, she let the laptop do the talking as she pets Cas’s hair while sitting on the chair by the bed.

Jack came in the most next to Dean. He liked reading to him or talking about how his skills as the new God have improved thanks to Amara.

"Dad, I hope you'll be proud of me." Jack once whispered to Cas, who was having a bad day, checking out more than usual as he stared off into the distance. Eyes wide and almost screaming.

It was almost the end of the second month when another big mile-stone happened.

Jack was lying in bed with Cas while Dean was at his desk, cleaning his guns obsessively again. Jack was reading him a book he bought during his recent trip to the bookstore with Eileen, it was a Star Wars story.

Jack was getting into the book as he read slower but louder during a big fight scene. He got so excited that he even jumped up and looked back at Cas, "Did you hear that, Dad? He won!"

Cas smiled back at him- a genuine smile- and Dean almost dropped the piece of metal in his hand while Jack froze, his shoulders tightening up while he scrunched up his lips as if trying to hold back his cry.

Instead, he quietly composed himself as he asked in a shaky voice, "You want me to read the rest?"

Cas only blinked at him, keeping the slight smile, and Jack took it as a yes. Jack sat beside him again with a big smile plastered on his face, wiping his eyes every other word, as he rested his head on Cas's shoulder to continue reading. Dean didn’t miss when Cas tilted his head down to rest his cheek on Jack’s hair.

He had to excuse himself again.

After that day, Cas slowly started to open up a little more.

Once Dean woke up with Cas out of bed. Dean was already in full panic mode, his shoes on the wrong feet and jacket inside out as he called out for Sam.

Then just as quick as the panic came, relief flooded him when he found Cas in the kitchen trying to make coffee. He turned towards Dean and gave him the smallest of smiles, but it filled Dean with such solace that he just dragged himself to Cas’s space. Dean held his arms open to press Cas into him, and without a second thought, Cas fell right into him as if it was an everyday normal occurrence.

That was the start of Cas now being up and around the bunker. It was like when a baby starts crawling, everyone keeping tabs on the baby’s first steps, except this baby was an eon old celestial being.

The library, Dean’s room, the Dean-cave, and the kitchen were Cas’s favorite places just to sit. He always had Dean’s headphones on, softly playing music, just in case it went quiet, and it took a while for him to be able to walk around without those.

It was the sixth month when Cas wished Dean a goodnight first and then added, “I love you, Dean.”

Dean fought the lump in his throat, but Cas instantly pulled him in, his arms wrapped securely around him. He had so much he wanted to say to Cas just to hear his voice again, anything to listen to his voice again, but instead, he kisses Cas’s chest before saying, “I love you, too.”

Days came and went. Sometimes it seemed like Cas was getting better as he talked a little more, but then those days would come when he would just stare off into the stars on their ceiling. Not moving an inch or bothering to fake breath like he liked. Those days the music was a little louder, and Cas held on to Dean a little tighter.

“I don’t want to go back. Please,” Cas pleaded as he stared wide-eyed at the darkness in the corner of their room. As if he was having a nightmare with his eyes wide open. “Please don’t make me…I-I don’t want to be in the dark again!”

Dean took Cas’s face in between his hands to hold his gaze. Only talking when he knew Cas was seeing him. “It’s okay, Cas. I got you. Nobody’s taking you away from me ever again.”

“Promise?” Dean felt Cas’s grip at his shoulder, holding him with desperation.

“Promise.”

That’s how Cas became human.

The nightmares have him waking up screaming some days, but at least Cas knew he was safe from the Empty’s clutches.

He was going to live his human life being loved and taken care of, and Dean was happy to say he felt Cas was doing the same for him.

[mochie85]

Wildest Dreams

Chapter 4 of my Mayari Series.

Mayari Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: Loki wonders whether his new feelings for you are genuine or part of your compulsion. A/N: This entire series is inspired by songs. The complete playlist could be found here on Spotify. Word Count: Over 5.5k Warnings: Fluff. Song lyrics. Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Loki had been remiss ever since you got back from the mission. He was quiet and pensive after your little talk in the mess hall. Maybe he was upset by my hug. I don’t think he likes being touched.

Captain Hill had collected the rest of your belongings from the abandoned SUV and given them back to you along with a newly bandaged Sidorov. He was wearing a sling on his right arm and had a helmet on his head that covered his eyes and ears.

“He won’t be able to see or hear anything when you arrive at the tower. Send my regards to Fury and the others," she said through the radio as we took off back home. Home. That’s a sentiment you never thought you'd call the tower. You hardly spent any time there to call it home. But it did make you feel safe. It didn’t replace Kaluwalhatian, instead, it just sat side by side with it in your heart. They weren’t interchangeable. Both meant everything and different things at the same time.

The flight home didn’t take long. The whole time you were thinking about how to tell Stark about your voice coming back.

“You should sing and compel him to do the Dougie or something. That would be hilarious,” Sam suggested.

“He would never trust me again. He’d make me wear a gag my entire stay here,” you laughed.

“Come up with something fast, doll. We’re here.” Bucky announced as the quinjet slowed and descended. When the back hanger opened, Loki was quick to get up and grab Sidorov. He convoyed him down the gangplank to go inside the tower. The other two didn’t question it, but it made you feel bereft that he hadn’t even looked at you once since you left the helicarrier.

Nat came out to see the informant, taking him from Loki. From where you were standing, it looked like they were arguing about who would take Sidirov into the cell. It looked like Nat won, with Loki’s arms up in surrender. He turned around, tight-lipped, and helped unload some of the cargo you had taken with you. It wasn’t much, which meant quick work.

You stopped in front of him to get his attention. “Are you ok?” You signed. He just nodded his head, gathered his things, and left for the elevator. “Listen, I’m sorry about the hug. If it made you feel uncomfortable. And about me crying and unloading my anxiety all out on you,” you signed. “I didn’t mean for you to be my emotional pin cushion.”

He held his hand up to stop you. “It’s all right. Really. I’m just fatigued. That’s all,” he lied.

“Oh! Of course. I’m sorry. Don’t let me stop you,” you said as you moved aside to let him through, feeling no better than when he ignored you.

“DID YOU JUST SPEAK?!” Stark yelled nonsensically. You turned around to see Tony, his mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“Surprise?!” You half-heartedly said with jazz hands.

“Pfft. You got off easy. I was gonna have her make you dance!” Sam said walking past Tony.

“This is great. We’re gonna start right away. I want to know everything. How you got your voice back? How far can you compel? What can you make people do?” he continued posturing and hypothesizing. You just felt daunted by it all. Daunted and hurt as you watched Loki’s retreating figure into the elevator.

The next few weeks were easy for Loki. He could easily hide away from you. He would stay in his chambers and find things to occupy his time. For instance, there was that book he had been meaning to read. Or that documentary he wanted to watch. Or that new technique with the daggers he wanted to learn. He was not without things to occupy his time. As weeks moved on, it was harder to find things to do alone in his room.

He couldn’t avoid being around the team, and if he was around the team, he was around you. Your call should have gone away by now. He should not be thinking about you every second of the day. He wanted to be near you.

When he was reading his book, he was imagining the two of you as the main characters. When he was watching the documentary, he wondered what your stance would’ve been on the issue. When he was practicing with his daggers, he wanted to teach you the technique and watch as you were heaving and panting from exhaustion, pinned against the wall, his hands cuffing both your wrists above your head...

Oh, this is madness. I need distance. I need to get away from here where I’m reminded of her constantly.

Perhaps it was time to go back to New Asgard. He had been neglecting his royal duties. That’s it! I must tell Thor right away. He should be back from his mission soon if he's not here already. Feeling proud of his idea, he wandered out of his chambers during the day. The first time in the last few weeks. He would do the occasional stroll in the tower’s library late at night, but no one had spoken with him since he came back from the escort mission.

“Hey, Loki,” Bruce said in passing.

“Hello Bruce.” Walking faster not wanting to stop for menial conversation.

“Are you here to watch Mayari?” Bruce asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“She’ll be practicing soon. Everyone whose free usually stays to watch her. She’s got an amazing voice. Or so I remember. I’ve only heard her the first time we tested her…and that one time we went to her home, of course. I’ve been stuck in a soundproof booth with Tony trying to measure and quantify her powers.” Loki looked around and realized that he must’ve made his way down to the library. Which was located right under the laboratory loft.

“I, uh, was actually looking for Thor. Do you know if he’s back yet?”

“Oh ya. He’s in there watching Mayari.” Bruce left to go inside the lab. Ugh, why does Thor always make things hard for me. That oaf! Resigned and with a heavy sigh, Loki opened the door to the lab. Looking around, he spotted Thor conversing with the Witch.

“Thor, I need to speak with you a moment. Ms. Maximoff,” he greeted Wanda. She nodded her head and left to go sit in one of the chairs surrounding a microphone.

“Brother. It’s nice to see you out and about. I’ve heard you secluded yourself again. Is anything the matter?” Thor asked concerned.

“Actually, there is. I’d like to go back to New Asgard. As quickly as possible. When is your next return trip there?”

“We could go there soon. I think Val wants to see us regarding some encampments that have been populating around the city. She says they’re harmless, mostly supporters of the old Norse mythologies. But she’d like our ruling on the matter.”

“Done. Absolutely. When can we leave?”

“As soon as I hear Lady Mayari. Have you heard her sing yet, Loki?! Oh, of course, you have. You and the soldiers in that mission.” Just then you entered the laboratory with Tony next to you, shuffling papers between his hands.

“Ok. We’ve done angry. We’ve done happy. We’ve done lovey-dovey. We could do something energetic. Or some rap. Foreign language. Spoken word. Podcast?” Tony asked looking at you seriously. Seriously?! You rolled your eyes and picked one randomly from the stack of papers. “Ok, kiddo. Just keep’em dancing.”

You locked eyes with Loki then. Seeing him for the first time since the mission. You smiled and waved hesitantly. He wanted to wave back. He wanted to run up to you and hug you like old friends. Instead, he became stiff and cold.

“I should go. I’ll be in my chambers. Let me know when you’re finished. We can head out when you’re done,” Loki said to Thor. He gave you a curt nod and left the lab.

Well, that hurt. What is up with him?! You thought. Loki left the lab and started to make his way toward his room.

“Loki. Whoa. Hold your horses,” Tony stopped Loki before he got too far down the hallway.

“I hate that phrase.”

“I know. Come here really quick, please, your royal highness,” Stark said sweetly gesturing for him to come inside the soundproof booth. Loki eyed him suspiciously.

“What do you want, Stark? You never call me your royal highness unless you want something.”

“I wanted to record your experience with Mayari. I already have the accounts from Sam and Bucky.”

“What exactly do you want me to say?”

“Just how you felt. What did it feel like? Her compulsion? What did she make you want to do? That kind of stuff.”

“She sang her song and it felt like she wanted me to protect her, Wilson, and Barnes. That’s it.” Stark was writing the answers on a notebook.

It was then that Loki saw you singing through the glass window. He couldn’t hear you, but he saw you performing the song you picked out. Wanda and Thor were dancing, along with other agents and team members who stayed behind to watch you. You were calm and distant in your body language. As if you were somewhere else entirely, not in the room singing. Your mind had wandered off, leaving your body to just go through the motions. It was an odd juxtaposition to the others in the room who were dancing and smiling.

“The other reason why I stopped you is because I wanted to know if you knew anything about RiRi going silent again?” Loki scoffed at your nickname. It must have caught on.

“What do you mean she went silent again?” Loki asked.

“She doesn’t talk anymore. She only sings. And only when she’s in the lab. She seems happier, and she participates and tries to engage with the others. But she doesn’t speak. Her right eye started dimming again. Maybe you have some input, you know, you being one of the other gods in the greater metropolitan area,” Tony asked. He watched Loki stare at you with such awe. Tony turned to watch you like a gardener waiting for a flower to bloom, but instead…wilting.

“They can’t hear us in here, and obviously, we can’t hear her either. We’re trying to concentrate her powers down to one person. So she sings, focusing her powers on that one person and hopefully, everybody stops dancing. Except for the one she’s focusing on,” Tony said trying to get Loki’s attention.

One by one, people started sitting down. They were smiling and happy but weren’t compelled to dance anymore. The only two people who were still dancing were Thor and Maximoff.

“Wanda, could you dance away from Thor please.” Bruce asked through a microphone. Wanda did as she was asked, and she too stopped dancing. It was only Thor now, doing what looked like a highland jig from Nidavellir. “Wanda, move back closer to Thor, please.” Bruce asked again. And sure enough, she started dancing.

“Interesting.” Tony said. “Mayari is getting better. She couldn’t focus her powers like that a couple weeks ago. Maybe her powers are area specific, not person to person.” Tony continued to theorize.

“How long does her compulsion last?” Loki asked. Tony stared at Loki, trying to understand his gaze towards you.

“It depends. Some spells lasts as long as she’s singing. Only when she’s singing. Some last until the sun rises. It seems that whatever spell she casts, as long as she’s not around to re-compel you, it only lasts until the next sunrise.”

'It only lasts until the next sunrise.'

It only lasts till sunrise. So why do I still think of her? Loki was beside himself the last two weeks he’s been in New Asgard. He sat to Thor’s right in a large hall not paying any attention to the babble of councilmen and dignitaries. He couldn’t understand why they just won’t let the eager followers into the city. If they’re so willing to be of service to the Asgardian people, why not let them be indentured for a while. He let out a sigh and rolled his eyes.

“Brother, you were so eager to be here but since we’ve arrived, your mind has been preoccupied,” Thor whispered. “Councilmen, thank you for your advice. My brother and I will take it into consideration. Now if you’ll excuse us.” With a wave of his hand, Thor dismissed the council, and they left the hall with a bow. “Now. Out with it.” Thor commanded. “I've never seen you so distracted! Bored? Yes. But you’ve had a lingering smile these past few weeks.”

“He’s in love,” Val teased in a melodic voice. She sat across from Loki, with her feet resting on top of the mahogany table.

“I am not! How dare you accuse me of such a tragedy.” Loki squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. “Just because someone had given me the slightest bit of affection does not mean that I am in love!” he yelled.

“Ha! I knew there was someone!” Val pointed her fingers in an accusatory manner. Thor sat back amused.

“Loki! Is this true? Who is the lucky person? Do I know them?” Thor asked. Loki looked at him debating whether he should say anything, but just let out a sigh.

“I don’t even know myself if its true, brother. At first, I thought she must have some power over me, and I tried to avoid her for the past several weeks, but all I can think about is her! I can’t be in love! Can you imagine the god of mischief in love? Who would even trust me? A relationship is about trust and honesty. Not to mention that she doesn’t even know my frost giant self. How do you tell someone that you’re a monster?!” Loki sat with his head in his hands on top of the table. Is this why I’ve avoided her?

“Brother, that is a lot to sift through.”

“You are not a monster!” Val said vehemently. “And you know, mischievous can mean many things Loki,” she added.

“Yes. Malicious, harmful, tricky, bad,” Loki answered.

“Playful, roguish, lively, naughty,” Thor added with a wink.

“Please do not wink at me ever again-” Loki said blankly.

“My point is, why wouldn’t she want you? Why can’t the god of mischief find love? I think its about damn time too, maybe she can settle your impish ways,” Thor said.

“Or make it worse. Is she as ‘lively’ as you? Is that why you’re so attracted to her?” Val asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t stick around to find out. I just know that she’s strong and brave. She’s loyal to her family. She’s very intuitive and smart.”

“She sounds like a great catch. If you don’t make your move, can I?” Val asked.

“Yes! When can we meet this wonderful woman who has bewitched you?” Thor asked.

“I’d rather you didn’t. Both of you!” Loki said tersely.

“Oh, come now. It’s not everyday you meet someone who can scare the god of mischief into hiding.” Thor teased.

“I am not scared! And I didn’t run!”

“Then why are you here?” Val asked.

“She works at the tower, I take it. Maybe Val can come by the tower one of these days,” Thor continued to talk to Val.

“And who’s going to watch over the kingdom while you guys are saving the world and I’m off playing house with Loki’s new love?” Val teased.

“Korg?” Thor suggested.

“NO!” both Val and Loki screamed. Thor let out a thunderous laugh.

“Come brother. Let’s figure this business out with the enthusiast outside our borders then let’s head back to the tower. I’ve never known you to run from your fears. You’ll find something clever to do.” Thor said. Loki nodded his head. The thought of seeing you again, lifted his spirits up.

He missed the sly look that Thor and Val gave each other.

Using the Bifrost was a lot quicker than the quinjets. It made a beautiful sigil on the tarmac that Stark did not appreciate. However, unlike the quinjet, it was very bright, and Thor loved to announce his presence with bouts of thunder and lightning. It was very conspicuous. As soon as the brothers came home to the tower, they were greeted by Rogers and Stark.

“Hey, you two. How were things on the other side of the world?” Rogers asked. Loki had no patience; he gave a quick nod to both Rogers and Stark and headed inside. He was very eager to find you and...

…and what? What will I say to her? Loki spent the elevator ride down pondering what to say to you. He exited the doors and made his way through the foyer into the common area.

The sound of your laughter hit his ears like an old memory. He’d heard you laugh before, and he could feel the joy and happiness in such a simple sound. He turned into the kitchen and caught sight of you scooping some type of batter onto a baking sheet. You were accompanied by Barnes who was sipping his coffee, leaning against the counter with his back towards Loki.

“That’s not how Steve said it went down,” you signed to Barnes; FRIDAY had translated aloud.

“How would he know? He came in at the last second. Then he starts breaking everybody out, and all hell breaks loose,” Barnes chided. You giggled while shaking your head.

You felt Loki’s presence before you knew he was there. It was a chill that raced through your spine; waking up every nerve in your body. You looked up to see a pair of striking blue eyes watching you.

“Loki! Welcome home.” You signed as steadily as you could. Barnes must have noticed you speaking to someone else, so he snapped out of his reverie as he turned around to see Loki.

“Oh, hey. Welcome back. How was New Asgard?” Barnes asked.

“It was great. Val keeps a tight ship. We didn’t have much to do. The encampment issue pretty much resolved itself.”

“That’s great. I don’t know how you do it, man. I can’t even take care of a cat, let alone a whole nation of people. Ah! Speaking of which. I got to go head out to the store to buy more cat food for Alpine before they close. See what I mean?” Barnes says to you. You smile at him and push him off the counter.

“Go! Before I report you to animal services for neglect!” FRIDAY translated as you signed. Loki watched the two of you interact and gave a quick nod to Barnes as he left the kitchen.

“I’m making cookies. Chocolate chip. Would you like one?” You offered. FRIDAY didn’t need to translate for Loki. His all speak would do it for him.

“I would love one. Please.” Loki said. You placed a cookie on a small plate and handed it to him. “Thank you.” After taking a bite, “It’s quite delicious.”

“You’re quite welcome,” you smiled tentatively, handing him a cup of coffee.

“You and Barnes seem to have gotten closer,” Loki noted.

“Ya. That’s what usually happens when teammates don’t avoid each other.” You turned your back on him, not wanting him to see how much that one statement affected you.

“You…noticed. I did not mean to hurt you.” Loki tried to apologize.

“I know. You were just tired. Or busy. Or doing your duties. It’s ok, Loki. I understand.” He could feel, more than see, your hurt. Your hands were unsteady, and the signs mixed with each other making it hard for him to distinguish what you had just gestured. “I’m sorry. I have to…I forgot something in the lab.” You flustered about, turning off the oven, and ran away towards the bedrooms, which were in the opposite direction of the labs.

Loki sat on the kitchen counter hating himself. In all this time he spent away, he never once thought of how his absence might affect you. Why should his absence affect you? He didn’t matter. Of course she would get close to someone else. Why not? Who was he to you anyway? Some guy whom you had gone on one mission with. Someone who avoided you like the plague afterwards. The person who ran halfway across the world to try and forget you. Isn’t it better this way? That way she won’t be disappointed when she finds out the real you. Loki rested his head down on the counter in his arms, cursing why he left.

“Ooh, cookies.”

“Not now, Thor!”

You ran into your room, locking the door. How dare he?! The audacity. What was he even implying?! Of course, you had gotten close to Bucky. You had gotten close to Sam and Wanda and Tony and Bruce. They were around! Unlike you! Ugh, you were so angry. You changed into workout gear and headed outside to go to the gym. I don’t care if he sees me, he just better not talk to me. Walking past the common room, you ran into Tony.

“Oh great. You’re here. I was thinking, maybe we could do a couple more tests?” asked Tony.

You stared hard at Tony, as if you could conjure lasers from your eyes and bore them into his forehead. You nodded your head slightly and tightened your lips. You followed Tony inside not wanting to see if Loki was still at the kitchen counter.

Loki was still there, and he watched as you disappeared into the lab.

“Looks like Lady Mayari will be singing. Shall we watch?” Thor asked heading over to the lab with multiple cookies in hand. Loki was hesitant. He saw you storm out of the bedroom hallway determined to go somewhere. You looked like you didn’t want to be bothered. Maybe there was some time after though to talk with you. Hence, on the off chance that you agreed, he risked your ire and followed Thor into the laboratory. There was no one else in the lab, except for Stark and Banner. Bruce lit up at seeing Thor and Loki walk in.

“Oh great, we have test subjects.” Bruce motioned for Loki and Thor to sit down in front of the metal podium. You paced behind the microphone with your head in your hands, trying to hide your embarrassment. You did not want to be singing in front of an audience right now, especially Loki.

“Ok, so we’ve been practicing with Mayari, and we’ve discovered so many things about her potential. We’ve made some really good progress in the last couple of weeks. It turns out her powers are emotionally and verbally driven. She could be singing the loveliest of love songs and you would still want to hurt and maim dependent on the lyrics and how she says them.” Bruce continued.

“Like a double entendre - a double meaning,” Tony interjected.

“It’s very fascinating. Although, the compulsion is stronger when the song matches the mood and the lyrics. Sort of like…a spell. An incantation. OK. Today we’re trying to see if Mayari can sing without compelling anyone. So, what are we going to sing today?” Bruce asked you as he made his way into the soundproof booth with Tony.

You watched them leave, then turned your eyes down to the two gods sitting in front of you. Loki wouldn’t even meet your gaze. Thor had the goofiest smile on while eating one of your cookies. You couldn’t help but smile back at him. You gave Tony the cue to start track 152 on your playlist.

“He said, 'Let’s get out of this town. Drive out of the city, away from the crowds.' I thought heaven can’t help me now. Nothing lasts forever, But this is gonna take me down. He’s so tall, and handsome as hell. He’s so bad, but he does it so well. I can see the end, as it begins. My one condition is… Say you’ll remember me Standing in a nice dress. Staring at the sunset babe. Red lips and rosy cheeks. Say you’ll see me again. Even if it’s just in your Wildest Dreams, ah-ha. Wildest Dreams, ah-ha.”

Your voice hit Loki like a punch in the gut. It knocked the wind out of him as he listened to you sing. He followed along with the lyrics. Your song about heartache and the nostalgic memories that love will bring. It was as if you were saying goodbye before you even had a start. He had no choice but to look up at you.

He could feel your voice like a blanket crawling and covering his body. Coating him in sweet longing. An urge to feel memories and…cry?

Loki felt a tear escape his left eye. He looked over at Thor who had a stream of tears falling down his face. His face turned into a frown with quiet sniffles hidden under his hand. Loki looked back up at you and you had made eye contact. You stared at him as you tried to unleash your pent-up sadness and anger.

“You’ll see me in hindsight, Tangled up with you all night, Burning it down. Someday when you leave me, I bet these memories Follow you around. You’ll see me in hindsight, Tangled up with you all night, Burning it down. Someday when you leave me, I bet these memories Follow you around.”

Slowly, Loki felt the compulsion move away from his heart and out of his body. Like slow syrup dripping from his fingers. Loki stopped feeling your emotions. Was this how you felt? We’re these really your feelings? Loki got up and left the lab. He couldn’t face you knowing the emotional heartache he put you through. Not even friends and you’re already causing pain.

You watched as Loki got up to leave the lab. You instantly regretted pouring your emotions out this way. It wasn’t fair. You should’ve told him, not attack him like you just did. He was right to be wary of you. You continued to sing, but you weren’t focusing on the experiment so much. Thor sat there as your willing guinea pig experiencing all the emotions you had. Anger, sadness, regret. Affection. Interesting, Thor thought.

Later that night, you sat in the balcony outside the common room. It had been a long afternoon of singing and experimenting. Your throat hurt a bit and you thought of asking Tony to stop the experiments for a while. The moon had transformed you and you sat with a blanket around you, looking out into the vast city, bathing in its bright light.

That familiar chill in your spine crept up and the sliding door opened. Loki stepped out with a cup of tea in each hand and handed you one. You looked up at him momentarily before you clutched the offered cup. “Thank you,” you mouthed to him. He smiled and nodded and moved closer to the railing, looking out at nothing and anything.

“I apologize for my behavior the past several weeks,” Loki started. “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I wanted to make sure that my feelings were genuine and not artificial. I have no knowledge of how your power worked and instead of talking to you or helping Tony and Bruce, I ran away and made assumptions of my own.”

Feelings? What sort of feelings? It was hard to ask him when his back was to you.

“I’ve never been close to anyone, aside from my brother. And…now Val who I look to as a sort of sister figure. That support took a long time to build. Yet, with you, it was instant. And that alarmed me. So, I apologize for disregarding you and your feelings. I had no idea how you felt until earlier this afternoon when I heard you sing.”

This was a revelation. This whole time you were so angry with him for ignoring you. You tormented yourself many nights trying to figure out what you did wrong or whether Loki was just an ass.

Turns out that, yes, he is an ass. But with a valid concern. You rolled your eyes internally.

“Is the god of mischief apologizing to me?” you asked sarcastically. It was the first time you conversed verbally. At this, Loki finally turned around to look at you.

“Yes. Everyone gets one in their lifetime. That would be it for you. Thor hasn’t even gotten one yet,” he said jokingly, trying to be nonchalant about it.

“I feel honored,” you said, so awkwardly that it almost came out as a question. That was enough to keep you signing your next statement. “In all seriousness, I didn’t realize my powers worried you so much. They worry me too you know. I-I don’t know if you know exactly why I’m here,” you gestured. Loki shook his head.

“I don’t want to hurt people,” you continued as he watched you intently. “And if I can control it, I wouldn't have to feel guilty about using it. I want you to know that I would never intentionally compel you or try to use you in any way.” Even though that’s exactly what you did earlier today at the lab. Maybe he was right to run away from me.

It was always one of your prevalent thoughts. It’s a horrendous thought, really, to wonder if you’ve compelled the people around you to like you, or if they genuinely care for you. “I regret what happened this afternoon. I shouldn’t have attacked you the way I did. I was just so angry. I thought I had made a friend in you, Loki. Then you ignore me. And when you came back, you had made that comment about me and Bucky getting close, but it was like you had judged me about it.” You signed to him. Loki nodded, realizing that he had wronged you twice in his short time of knowing you. He moved to sit in the chair next to you.

“I see.” Loki reached out across and offered his hand. You met him halfway and took it. “Darling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you, or hurt you. Neither did I mean to judge you on who you had made friends with. It’s not my place. And for that I owe you dearly,” Loki offered.

“Thank you,” you mouthed, squeezing his hand. “Did you just apologize again? Wow, two in one night. I must be special,” you joked, which earned you a chuckle from the god of mischief.

“But now I’m worried that I’ve compelled other people to like me. How will I know if they’re genuine or not?”

“As someone whose asked the same question of myself, I offer this, you can only be you. Anyone worthy, will be able to see that, compulsion or not. Your power only works till sunrise anyway, and you’ll see the following day that most people will still want to be around you because you…are amazing.” You let his words sink in. You didn’t feel amazing. But it was nice to know that that’s how he saw you.

“So, milady. How can I make it up to you?”

“Loki, you don’t need to do that. I’m happy that we’re just on good terms again.”

“You had saved my life and I, in turn, run away from you and slighted you. Please, tell me how I can pay for my boorish ways.” You sat there, thinking. Feeling the weight of his hand in yours.

“Well, this is a delicious cup of tea. I wouldn’t mind a cup every night, for let’s say…a week. And maybe the company that goes with it.”

“Done. And you can have my company as long as you’ll have me, my dear. I promise I won’t ignore you again. Anything else?” He didn’t think you were an unreasonable person. He could probably fulfill anything you requested.

Loki wanted to keep you talking, and holding your hand. He intertwined his fingers with yours, letting your hands fall in between both of your seats. He laid back down on his chair and looked over the cityscape.

Normally, he would see the city grime, the pollution and be reminded of his failures from long ago. But tonight, sitting next to you, it took on a more magical glow as lights danced and blinked like stars. All at once, he didn’t feel alone anymore.

“You can show me some of your dagger techniques. I saw you fight on our last mission. You were incredibly deadly,” you said, pulling Loki back from his musings. Loki blushed at your compliment.

“Of course, milady. We’ll get started right away,” and all Loki could think about from then on was having you pinned against the wall like in his previous thoughts, panting and heaving as he cuffed your hands above your head.

⬅️ Chapter 3: You Should See Me In A Crown (part 2) | Chapter 5: Coffee➡️

Taglist: @user13cabs @alexs1200 @lokiprompts

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Tuesday

Monday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: anxiety, doctor’s offices, taking pain pills (not sure if I need to tag that, but just in case), stalkers, blackmail, swearing, non-consensual taking pics of nudes, slight body dysmorphia, self-loathing, toxic friends

Word count: 5,326

(A/N): another long chapter, my little wlw heart loved writing this chapter! Also holy shit I was not expecting the first part to blow up, thank you to everyone that read it! Gosh, it’s enough to make a grown woman cry :’)

You cracked open your crusty eyes to Wilbur poking his head into your room. “(Y/n), Dad wants you.”

You groaned rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. “I’ll be down in a sec.” Your voice was scratchy and thick with sleep.

He closed the door silently and you heard his socked feet thumping down the hallway. Your pain faded slightly into soreness, but your shoulders and upper back were slightly stiff. After you drug yourself out of bed, you shambled down the stairs to see your family at the table eating breakfast. Your stomach growled loudly, making you blush slightly in embarrassment. 

Your eldest brother snorted. “Hungry (y/n)?”

You slumped into your seat next to him slowly shoveling food into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“You wouldn’t be that hungry if you ate dinner when you got home like I told you to do last night, young lady. You better eat every single thing on that plate.”

There was no arguing with a stern Dadza, so you reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Tommy and Tubbo were telling Wilbur about your match animatedly. 

“And the ball was like fwoosh and she- the ball and-and-”

“And she hit it and Haley hit it to the other side! It was so cool!”

Wilbur merely smiled listening to them ramble about how badass you were last night. They made you feel genuinely happy that they admired your volleyball abilities; they were probably your biggest fans and that made your day most of the time. You remembered the first match they came to during your freshman year, they had run up to you right after the end-of-match whistle blew to spew about how good you were on the court. They met the team that day. Your team adored having them at your games, over the years they slowly replaced your school’s mascot. They played a huge part in morale boosts before and during matches. 

He looked over to you, “I didn’t know my little sister could be so badass.”

You felt your cheeks flare up. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. It really wasn’t anything special.”

“(Y/n),” Philza pursed his lips, “you did all that with a bruised back, I’d consider that something special.”

“Wait (y/n), you’re hurt?” Tommy and Tubbo looked at you with wide concerned eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I can still move and stuff.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “it’s bad if you’re going to the doctor for it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday, so I’m not worried.” 

“You’re deadass wincing everytime you move your arm,” WIlbur deadpanned, “it clearly still hurts.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t say the pain went away completely. Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Language,” Philza glared at you two, gesturing to the two fifth graders watching the exchange with interest. 

You and Wilbur resumed eating and murmured out a defeated “sorry Dad.” You both glared at Techno when he huffed in amusement. 

“If you three keep bickering, you’re going to be late to school. Remember, you two have to drop off Tommy and Tubbo today cuz I’m taking your sister to her appointment. Now go get ready, I’ll take care of your dishes.”

Your brothers took off up the stairs, each competing to get to the bathroom first. Occasionally, you would hear shouts and slapping noises. You felt glad you didn’t have to deal with that today. Judging by Techno’s gruff voice laughing and an explosion of loud complaints from the rest, you assumed that he won today. “I swear, they’re gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You and me both Dad, you and me both.”

You went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pain pills from the junk drawer. Various bottles of Motrin and Advil were scattered around the house because when you live with a rambunctious family like this one, people are bound to get hurt and headaches are common. Popping three into your mouth, you washed it down with a glass of water. The sound of the running water faucet and the slight splashing of water filled the silence of the room. 

“How’s your back? Does it feel any better?”

“Kinda, today it just feels more sore than throbbing, my headache went away mostly, and my shoulder doesn’t feel any worse, so that’s better I guess.”

He shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry off his wet hands. He moved over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen package of peas that your family never ate. You all used it whenever one of you would get a bruise. He moved behind you and held it against your back without warning. Flinching forward from the unexpected temperature change, you winced with the wave of pain moving brought you. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re good. Just give me a little warning next time,” you chuckled. He gently placed it back on your back and you sighed from the slight relief that it brought you. You leaned into the peas and closed your eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I bet. That bruise was pretty bad yesterday, can I look at it again?”

You reluctantly left the sanctuary that was the medical grade frozen peas and leaned forward, moving your hair out of the way for him. “Knock yourself out.”

He made a hissing noise as soon as he moved your shirt out of the way. “Dad, it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“...Have you seriously not looked at this yet? It looks pretty bad, hun.”

“Well, sorry I can’t move to look at my back without being in pain. I’ll try harder next time.” You snarked him.

“Hey, watch the attitude. Here, I’ll take a picture so you can see how bad it is.”

You heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his phone out of his pocket and the obnoxiously loud click of his camera app. You turned around to look at the damage. You squinted at his bright phone screen. Your entire back was swollen in some areas and was covered in ugly reds, blues, blacks, and purples. You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and cringed away from the screen. You always got nauseous seeing injuries.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes isn’t the only word I would use, it’s bad (y/n).”

“It looks worse than it feels, I promise. I’m gonna go get ready so we’re not late to my appointment. It sounds like the boys are finally done with the bathroom.”

You hobbled up the stairs slowly and made your way to the bathroom. The door was wide open ready for you to use. Turning on the light, you closed the door in a hurry so that your brothers wouldn’t try to get in again to hog the bathroom like they usually did. You frowned at your appearance. Your hair was sticking up in every direction and you had dark eye bags around your dull looking eyes. A few pimples dotted your skin like constellations in the night sky, but much uglier and more out of place. Turning your body, you scanned your figure. Your eyes watered as you realized that you had gained some weight. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were right, you looked like garbage all the time.

You ripped your eyes away from yourself in the mirror with disgust etched deep into your features. You were disgusting through and through. Ripping your brush through your hair, you winced at the pain emanating from the back of your head. You deserve the pain for letting yourself go. Once you were slightly more satisfied with your appearance, you stepped out of the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes you would wear today. You decided on a hoodie and a pair of tights. You didn’t feel like dressing yourself up. 

You once again walked down the stairs and slipped on your shoes to meet your dad in his car. You idly scrolled through your phone while you waited for him, looking at your notifications for the first time that day. You had ten texts from the group chat that you were in with Adrian, Annie, and Sammy.

Sammy <3

(Y/n) where the hell are you?

Adrian <3

Do you guys think she ditched us?

I knew she was ignoring us

Sammy <3

Who ignores their friends?

Annie <3

(Y/n) apparently. 

She has more important things to do ig

Oh my god

Do you guys think she skipped school?

Adrian <3

I wouldn’t put it past her

Maybe she finally gave up

(Y/n)

I’m sorry guys, I just have a doctor’s appointment today

I would never ignore you

Sammy <3

Yk, it’s hard to keep defending you when you keep ditching us..

(Y/n)

I’m not ditching you!

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about my appointment

I’ll make it up to you guys

Adrian <3

How?

You’ve already skipped out on us enough already

Annie <3

Oh ik!

She can write our final research paper for us Dri!

I haven’t started it yet lmao

Adrian <3

Saaaame lmaoooo

Sammy <3

Guys, what about me???

Adrian <3

Idk, figure it out yourself

Sammy <3

Rude!

Uhhh

Ur gonna put together my final presentation for us history

(Y/n)

Alright, I can do that for you guys

Sam can you pls send me the rubric? 

Annie <3

Thanks love ;)

(Y/n)

No problem, I like doing things for friends

My dad’s coming, I gotta go

Talk to you guys later

Adrian <3

Byeeee (y/n), ur the best!

(Y/n)

: ) <3

You put your phone down as your dad started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. The drive was quiet as you stared out the window and thought about how much work you now had to do. On top of your own classes, you had two more to write and a presentation to make in a class you hadn’t taken since the first semester in your sophomore year. The research papers had to be at least four full pages long with a minimum of ten sources each due on Friday and you had no idea how big Sammy’s US history presentation has to be or what it’s even about. But that was fine, you’d do anything for your friends. 

“So, who were you texting? Your boyfriend?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, just Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. I don’t have a boyfriend Dad,” because you were a closeted lesbian, but you wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “You know that.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. How have they been?”

“They’re good. Adrian got a job at the diner, he’s a host. Sammy and Annie have been focusing more on raising their grades.”

“Good for them! You should invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I was actually thinking that I could maybe go hang out with them on Halloween...?”

“(Y/n), the family was going to take Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating.”

“I know, but there’s always next year. Plus, we haven’t been able to hang out in so long! We’re always free at different times.”

“I don’t know (y/n), what if they don’t want to trick-or-treat next year? What were you planning on doing with them?”

“We were just gonna hang out at Annie’s house and watch some horror movies,” you lied. He would never let you go if he knew you were going to a party. Especially one where alcohol would be involved and hormonal teenage boys ran rampant actively scouting for an easy lay.

“...I’ll think about it.” The car pulled into the doctor office’s parking lot.

“Thank you Dad! It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He chuckled as you both walked into the lobby, checked in, and waited for your name to be called. About ten minutes later, you were summoned by a nurse so you went into the back leaving your dad to wait in the lobby. The nurse recorded your height and weight (much to your dismay, you gained four pounds) and asked you the standard questions about your injury and uncomfortable questions about your overall health. The clacking of her acrylic nails on the plastic keyboard filled the awkward silence.

Once that was done, she left and you had to wait a little bit for the doctor. After slipping into the backless gown the nurse left, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Jumping when someone knocked on the door, you looked up to see your family’s doctor smiling at you.

“Hello (y/n), how are we feeling today?”

“I’m alright.”

“I hear that you had quite the fall onto some concrete, is that true?”

“Yes, I landed on my back and the back of my head.”

She reached over and squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands, rubbing it in and looking back at you. “Can you please lay on your stomach so I can take a look at your back?”

You nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable paper covered cushioned table onto your stomach. You felt her cold hands gently graze your bruises before she pulled out her stethoscope. “Can you take a good deep breath in for me?”

You complied and she instructed you to let it out. Doing this multiple times along your back, she put her stethoscope away and continued prodding at your exposed back. 

“There’s definitely some swelling in multiple areas… It doesn’t feel or sound like you cracked or broke any ribs, which is excellent… Do you have any pain deep in your shoulder when you move it?”

“Yes, I landed on it wrong last night at my volleyball match.”

“How would you describe your pain? Stabbing, sore, throbbing…”

“More sore, but a little stabbing pain when I move my arm.”

She moved her fingers to examine your shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a sprain or fracture, can you move it up and down for me?”

You moved your arm up and down, front and back, and side to side. “You still have a full range of movement, that’s good. Can I have you sit back up again?”

You sat back up and she started testing you for a concussion. After passing her tests, you were cleared of having a concussion. “Alright (y/n), it appears that you only strained your deltoid and teres muscles and you have severe bruising along your back. Make sure you ice your back and, if you have one, wear a shoulder compression sleeve. Anti-inflammatory medications such as Ibuprofen will help with the swelling. Other than that, you have a clean bill of health! You can still participate in volleyball practices, but you need to take it easy. Don’t do anything that will strain the muscles any further.”

“Thank you Dr. Samson,” you smiled at her. 

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to change back into your clothes and you’re free to go! You may leave the gown on the table.”

She left the room and you redressed yourself. Walking out to the lobby, Philza’s head perked up when he heard the door opening. He stood up and walked over to you with a slightly worried face. You both walked back out to the car.

“So?”

“Dr. Samson said that I don’t have a concussion, sprains or broken bones. She told me that I just strained my shoulder muscles and I need to keep ice on my back.”

He visibly slumped in relief. “Thank god. What’d she say about volleyball?”

“She said that I could keep playing, but I have to take it easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing finals on Thursday. Do you know if the team you’re playing is any good?”

“Dad, of course they’re good, we’re the top two teams in the area.”

“I bet their setter is nowhere near as good as you are and I bet the setter and spiker aren’t as synced as you and Haley are. You two make a good pair.” 

“Yeah we do, don’t we?” You looked out the window and smiled a little and felt your ears turn red. The very mention of Haley’s name was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The car fell silent again as you neared your high school. 

In your AP world history class, the class was looking at the test you had taken yesterday. Surprisingly, you got a 74% on the multiple choice part and a 50% on your essay portion, so that landed you with a just below passing grade. You thought you completely flunked that test yesterday, so that was a pleasant surprise. It took a good portion out of your overall grade in the class, lowering it from a comfortable A- to a slightly alarming B. You supposed it could’ve been a lot worse. Besides reviewing your tests, the class didn’t do much except starting the reading for the next chapter.

Your psychology online class went like it usually did, however your phone blew up with texts about midway through the block. Glancing down, you saw that it was Haley. Shouldn’t she be in class?

Hales : )

(Y/n) meet me in the locker room right after school

I need to talk to you before practice starts

It’s an emergency

(Y/n)

What’s going on?

Hales : )

I’ll explain after school.

Can’t talk about it over text

(Y/n)

Alright, see ya then ig

You felt your gut twinge. Something’s wrong, but you didn’t know what. You were worried about Haley, usually she was really bubbly. You’ve never seen the senior act so strange before. You could only wait the block out until the bell would release you from the confines of the library and into the locker room. After sending a quick text to your brothers that you were going to stay after school for your practice, you stared blankly at your laptop’s clock as you counted down the minutes left in the class period. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Four minutes. Two minutes. Thirty seconds-

You shot up from your seat as the bell rang. Pushing past some groups of freshmen that congregated in the hallways, you made a beeline for the locker room. In the locker room, you found Haley sitting on the metal bench on the opposite end of the locker room with her back facing the last row of lockers and facing the brick wall. She was clenching her phone in her hand with an iron grip. You hurried to sit next to her.

“Hales, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s bad (y/n). Like, really bad.”

“What’s bad? You’re worrying me.”

Wordlessly, she unlocked her phone and handed it to you. On the screen was something that you weren’t expecting to see. You scrolled through the contents and felt your stomach drop with each scroll; someone took pictures of you and Haley throughout the match last night. Every picture was a violation to yours and Haley’s dignities, they had gotten zoomed in pictures of your boobs and asses. Deeper, there were even pictures taken of you changing into your volleyball uniform through your open window. You were only in your underwear. Haley had a similar picture that you scrolled past as fast as you could. Scrolling to the bottom of the text message thread, the person that sent Haley the pictures added a caption to the last picture. It was a picture of you and Haley together celebrating your match, her arm slung around your shoulder with your mouth open mid-laugh.

Unknown

I’m sending these out to the entire school unless you stop hanging around her.

If you tell anyone, the pics will be printed off and put in every single locker and bathroom the school has.

You’ll be the sluts of Klinkver High. 

Cut all ties now. You have two days. 

Do not try me.

“Jesus christ Haley. Who the fuck would do this? This is sick.”

She took her phone back and locked it without looking at the screen. “I don’t know (y/n). I wanted to tell you not to openly talk to me for a few days. We don’t know who took these, we don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t wanna risk angering them.”

“We can find them! If we look close enough, we might find a few clues where they were sitting. Do you remember seeing anything suspicious last night?”

“(Y/n), our best option is to leave it. We just can’t talk in person anymore; we can still text each other.”

“Hales, how are we gonna not talk? I’m your setter.”

She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “I don’t know (y/n). Just-just don’t talk to me anymore, I don’t want your pictures leaked.”

“I don’t care about my pictures. My name’s been drug through so much shit this past year that it won’t affect me. I don’t want your stuff leaked.”

She gave a watery laugh, “you care too much, I love that about you…” Glistening eyes turned to look deep into your own. “I’m so scared (y/n), I don’t know what to do.”

You pulled her into a hug, wincing slightly when she squeezed her arms around your upper back. She buried her face into your shoulder and started shaking with muffled sobs. “Haley, I promise I’ll catch whatever sick bastard is doing this to you. You don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing as you rested your chin on the top of her head and started to rock her back and forth slowly. You two stayed like that even after her sobbing resided, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Glancing at the clock, you realized that you two have been in the locker room for an hour. Practice was set to start in fifteen minutes, people were going to start coming into the locker room soon. 

You reluctantly pulled away from the hug and looked Haley in her bloodshot eyes, “I’m not going to let those pictures of you get leaked. I swear on my-”

The door to the locker room swung open and loud laughter echoed throughout the room. Haley pushed you away and speed walked off to a bathroom stall, slamming the door shut behind her. 

“Damn (y/n), what’d you do? She’s pissed.” 

“It’s none of your business, Zara.” 

“Oh, so it’s a lover’s quarrel then~” She cackled, her hair bouncing slightly with each heave of her shoulders. 

“For the love of… Haley and I aren’t dating, we’re both straight.” She’s straight.

“Mmhm.” She brushed past you to go to her locker. You followed her, your locker was in the grouping next to hers. You shared the area with Haley. You changed as fast as you could so that Haley would have time to change before practice starts. Speed walking into the gym, Zara was hot on your trail wearing a shit eating grin.

“Why are you in such a rush? Giving your girlfriend the silent treatment?”

“Zara. We aren’t dating. For the last time, we’re both heterosexual, not homosexual!” You wildly gestured with your hands to emphasize your point, your voice being amplified by the vast gym. Coach Williams gave you a confused look from across the gym. 

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi serious,” a soft voice replied from behind you, “I’m Jazzy.”

You groaned at the pun at the same time Zara started cackling, giving the short libero a high five. “Nice!”

“That was so bad, Jaz.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto your face.

Zara poked your cheek with a wide grin. “C’mon, you’re smiling!”

“I am and I hate it.”

Your bickering continued with Jazzy watching you two with a content smile. The remaining members of the team (Haley, Marlene, and Zuri) filed into the gym right as Coach Williams blew her whistle. 

Practice went by slowly without Haley talking to you. Sure, you had the rest of the team, but it didn’t feel the same with you guys ignoring each other. If the team or Coach Williams noticed you two not talking to each other, they didn’t say anything. By time practice was over, you all went to the locker room to change. After slipping into your fuzzy pajama pants, you sat on the bench and texted Wilbur to come pick you up. He was supposed to pick you up after practice today because he and Techno took the car home after school. Five minutes passed and he still didn’t reply. He probably won’t see the text until you got home from walking.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward. One by one, the girls left the locker room until it was only you and Haley left. 

“Do you need a ride (y/n)?” She asked gently.

“But what if the person sees us together? I can just walk home, it’s not really a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “It is a big deal. It’s cold and dark out. You could get kidnapped or something. You don’t even have a coat with you. I’m giving you a ride whether you like it or not.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her and stood up to walk next to her, “okay, mom.”

“Don’t give me that attitude young lady.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom!”

She gasped and lightly smacked the back of your shoulder, “I married your- are you alright? Shit, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you’re good. It’s just this damned bruise.”

She moved her hands and frantically turned you around to pull the neck of your shirt down. You two stood in front of the school’s main entrance with the nauseatingly bright fluorescent light bouncing off the reflective surface of the tiles. The orange tinted street lights lit up the sidewalk outside.

“(Y/n)-”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

She scoffed, “oh really? What am I gonna say then, o wise one?”

You turned around to face her, “‘oh, this is bad, yadda yadda yadda.’ Everyone’s been saying that about it. Honestly it looks worse than it feels. Tis but a scratch, m’lady.”

She snorted and covered her mouth, “never call me ‘m’lady’ ever again.”

You started to walk to her car in the empty parking lot. “Or what? What’re ya gonna do?”

“I swear to god, (y/n), I’m gonna leave you here.”

“Do it, pussy. Bet you won’t.”

“You really wanna bet?”

You grinned at her, “hell yeah.”

She broke off into a mad dash to her car, laughing freely into the night sky. You chased after her trying not to move your arms much, your laugh mixing with hers like a perfect symphony composed of the world’s best musicians. The sound of your rubber soles slapping the pavement resonated throughout the parking lot as you quickly gained on her. Reaching out to grab her shirt, she smirked at you and sharply turned to the right into the grass.

You grinned as her pace slowed down slightly. You’d be able to catch her at this pace. You pushed your legs to move faster as she looked at you from over her shoulder and shrieked in surprise at how close you were to her. You cackled at her reaction, reaching out once again, you grabbed her hand. She was stopped dead in her tracks as your shoulder was yanked with the sudden momentum, making you hiss in slight pain. Despite that, you didn’t let go of her soft hand. 

You both stood there under the moonlight and the soft orange street lamps trying to  catch your breath. The slightly damp blades of grass tickled your ankle as you shifted to face her better. Through gasping breaths and a dopey grin, you said “you… lost, pussy.”

She let out a breathy laugh as she pulled you to her car. “Shuddup.”

“Make me~”

She opened the passenger side door for you and got into the driver's seat. Her car smelled like vanilla and citrus. “Oh, you will later when I make you do more sets in weight lifting tomorrow, hurt shoulder be damned.”

She turned on the ignition and the car revved to life, soft indie pop wafted from the speakers. She backed out of the parking space and sped off to the main road. “You wouldn’t…”

“I’m your captain, (y/n). I can make you do whatever I want.” You felt your cheeks heat up a tad. You were happy that she couldn’t see you.

“Naw, you’re too much of a softie for that. Admit it, I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

She chuckled as she pulled into your driveway and put the car in park. “...Alright, maybe you do. Just a bit.”

She turned to look at you. She looked stunning with the shadows accentuating the contours of her face perfectly. You found yourself glancing at her lips and leaning slightly towards you. To your surprise, she started leaning into you as well. Before your lips could finally mesh together, she pulled back with a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. You felt a rush of disappointment and fear course through your veins. She didn’t like you like that, you should’ve known better. You were so stupid. So, so stu-

“I can’t (y/n). I want to kiss you so bad, but we can’t. Not yet at least. Not until we find the pervert that took those pictures of us.”

You sighed, “right.”

The car was filled with awkward silence. Not even the soft music streaming from the speakers could alleviate the awkwardness. God, you really screwed up your friendship, didn’t you? Sammy, Adrian, and Annie were right; you messed up everything you touched.

You coughed, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah…”

You grabbed your bag and walked into your house, the smell of chicken slapping you in the face instantly. Without checking in with your dad, you hurried up the stairs, desperate for the warm comfort of your bed. That, and if you wanted to get Sammy’s presentation and Adrian’s, Annie’s, and your research papers done by Friday, you had to start as soon as you could. You were going to skip dinner for tonight, you’d just grab more breakfast tomorrow morning. 

You plopped on your bed and got started on your research paper. Luckily, you already had all of the sources you were planning on using and the rough outline of each body paragraph, so writing the actual paper wasn’t going to take long. You worked until you heard a knock at your door. 

“(Y/n),” Techno’s monotone voice called out, “dinner’s ready.”

“Tell Dad I’m not hungry. Practice’s got me beat, I’m going to bed soon.”

He grunted, “you know he’s not gonna like that right?”

You felt frustration start to swim circles around your chest, “Techno, just tell him that I’m not hungry right now. Please.”

“Damn, you don’t need to be like that. I’ll tell him.”

You heard his stomping footsteps thumping down the hall. Shit, you pissed him off. You were a terrible person, he was just trying to get you to eat something, Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, you forced the panic that was starting to swirl around your body in laps deep into your being. You didn’t have time to deal with your failures and stupid emotions, you had to get this done. You didn’t have time to think about Haley’s warm breath ghosting across your lips. You didn’t have time to think about how she probably regretted almost kissing you. You didn’t have time to fall into an anxiety spiral, you needed to focus if you wanted Adrian, Annie, and Sammy to forgive you. You ruined yours and Haley’s friendship and did the same to yours and Techno’s. They were the only ones you had left. You needed to be a better friend.

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