#claire coming out of nowhere didn’t help

[zombster]

if i see one more post saying they ship carmen and therapy i’m going to scream

[fishfooddude]

Double Trouble

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader

MDNI 18+

Double the trouble but twice the joy. Thank you, God, for giving me a twin.

Do you ever have one of those stupid ideas that sticks in your brain even though it feels kinda stupid? Yea... that's what this was.

The Bear MasterList

Directory

Richie walked into The Bear that morning sweating through his suit. He’d been able to avoid Carmy the last few days, claiming he needed some personal time to ‘get some shit done,’ but the reality was he was waiting for the dark purple mark bruise on his neck to dissipate.

Richie had never been the ‘hook up’ type, but being divorced for a year and a half with practically no action makes a guy think. He didn’t plan on hooking up with a random girl he matched with on Tinder or some other dating site. He had his eyes set on asking the cute new checker at the grocery store out on a date that hopefully would end at her place, but that plan went to shit at Marcus’s birthday party last weekend. 

~

Carmy had been dating this woman, Sierra, for a few months. She was a very kind, empathetic pediatric nurse who ironically worked at the same hospital Claire worked at. One could say Carmy has a type. She was stunning. Large brown eyes with hints of a golden undertone, a button nose complemented by a dainty silver ring, plush lips, and high cheekbones. She had a half sleeve made up of different flowers and some kind of shark that Richie could never remember the name of; he didn’t know how Carmy had convinced her to date him.

It was Marcus’s first birthday after his Mom had passed. Syd took it upon herself—with some help from Chester—to throw him a true college-style buck wild rager. Natalie and Pete volunteered to host it at their house since everyone else at The Bear couldn’t accommodate a party quite that large in their apartments. Richie laughed when Syd described what she’d planned: multiple kegs, beer pong…, and the list went on.

He found it endearing how much preparation she’d put into planning this party and expected it would be a fun night. He didn’t expect what happened about halfway through the party.

Richie was buzzed but found his way to the kitchen where he saw Sierra sitting on the counter, Carmy nowhere in sight. She looked upset, and Richie, being the gentleman, asked her if she was okay. Through teary eyes, she shook her head and put her arms out to the man, expecting a hug or some other kind of comfort from him. Once again, being the gentleman, he comforted the young woman and offered to kick Carmy’s ass if he did or said something that may have hurt her feelings. Sierra laughed and squeezed him tighter- the two had hugged before, but this felt different from the others. 

Sierra's lips crashed onto his as Richie pulled away from the hug. Maybe it was because he was buzzed, maybe it was because he’s a scumbag, he kissed her back. As he pushed his tongue into her mouth, he swore he heard someone come into the kitchen and opted to end the kiss there. 

There was no one there. Richie tried to walk away, saying something about this never happening and how they should keep it between them. Sierra shook her head and hopped off the counter, closing the space Richie had made between the two of them. When her hand floated over his crotch, she purred, “It’s been so long since a real man has fucked me… why don’t we find somewhere we could have some privacy?”

As the words left her lips, Richie was done for. It had been a long time since a woman- especially one as pretty as Sierra had touched him or practically begged him to fuck them; he was putty in her hand. Richie led her toward the basement and quickly looked around, ensuring everyone was preoccupied. He felt exhilarated. It was like he was a teenager again, sneaking away to make out with Tiff. The nostalgic excitement was enough to erase Carmy from his mind temporarily. 

When the two were alone in the basement, Sierra pounced on him. As their lips touched, she pushed her tongue into his mouth, fighting him for dominance. Her hands went to his belt. Richie grabbed her wrists and told her there was plenty of time for that; he was not submissive, and today wasn’t going to be the day he’d experiment with it. He released her wrists and moved to pull the top of her tank top down to expose her breasts. As Richie attached his lips to the soft, delicious, newly exposed skin, she managed to undo his belt. She’d always get her way. When her hand enveloped his cock, he could’ve cum then and there.

Sierra worked her hand up and down his growing erection as Richie bit and suckled on each of her nipples, earning soft groans and mumbles of ‘right there’ from her. Enough had been enough; both adults were sick of foreplay and knew they had to go for it to avoid being caught. 

Richie pushed her up against the wall of Natalie and Pete’s half-finished basement and ripped Sierra’s shorts down her legs. He shoved her panties to the side and penetrated her velvety lips. Richie groaned when he felt just how wet she’d gotten from what they’d been doing. ‘Fuck me, Daddy- I need your cock!’ 

The sound of skin slapping skin and loud moans filled the basement as Richie thrust up into her tight succulent pussy. Any worries from before had left his mind as Sierra moaned into his ear, begging him to cum inside of her. When her teeth sunk into his neck, he felt her walls sucking him deeper inside of her. Richie grunted as he adjusted his grip on her thighs; Sierra threw her head back as she came around him. The gush of her fluids was enough to make him bust.

Richie woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and little memory of the events of the night before. When he looked in the mirror and saw the hickey adorning his neck, it hit him like a freight train. He took a step back and began processing what had happened; he had sex… with Carmy’s girlfriend. In a slight panic, he ran into his bedroom and grabbed his phone from his bedside table. He quickly sent a text to the ‘manager’ group chat to let Syd, Natalie, and Carmy know he wasn’t coming in for the next couple of days, claiming he needed to use his personal time. After a confirmation text from Natalie, he put his phone on Do Not Disturb and fell back on his bed. Maybe he was a loser after all.

~

Richie quickly walked through the kitchen, managing to avoid Carmy, who had been doing inventory and subsequently had his back turned. He sat at a table and pressed his forefinger and thumb into the bridge of his nose. How was he supposed to amp up the waitstaff that night when he felt like this? 

“Hey, Richie- you good?” Syd’s causal question turned serious when she saw Richie’s body language. He shook his head, “Do you want to talk about it?” Syd cautiously asked, sitting across from him at the table. 

“Nah- it’s nothin'. Don’t stress it.” Richie grumbled as he pushed himself up from the table. He went toward the kitchen, ignoring Syd’s calls as he busted through the swinging doors. “Where’s Carmy?” he announced to the prep staff, and one of the new line cooks gestured over to the office door. 

Richie took a deep breath and knocked on the closed door before checking to see if it was locked. It took a moment for Carmy to say anything; the lock clicked, and the door swung open. Carmy stood in the doorway, cheeks flushed more than usual. Richie looked over Carmy’s shoulder to see Sierra sitting on the beat-up loveseat, adjusting her scrub top. She smiled in his direction, causing Richie to go pale. “You good cousin?” Carmy queered, getting Richie’s attention.

He shook his head, “I’m good- I’ll talk to you later.” 

~

Guilt was eating Richie alive- he couldn’t sleep or eat, and everyone noticed. Tiffany was the one to question what had been going on. 

“You’re not okay. What’s wrong?” she asked bluntly as the two sat on a bench at the playground, watching Eva play on the jungle gym with one of her friends. “Nothin’.” Richie attempted to bluff, but Tiffany saw through it. “Richard.” she challenged. Richie sighed. “I did somethin’ really stupid, Tiff.”

After confessing to Tiffany about what had happened at Marcus’s party, he felt ready to confess what happened with Sierra to Carmy. Richie was nervously scratching the back of his neck as he waited outside Carmy’s door. He’d knocked just moments ago, but it felt like hours. 

With messy curls and a flushed face, Carmy opened the door. Confusion plastered his face, “What’re you doin’ here?” he queried. Richie swallowed, “Can I talk to ya?”

“Uh, sure…” Carmy stepped aside and allowed Richie into his apartment. Sierra sat on the couch with a blanket over her lap. There was some Danish cooking show on the TV. The two had clearly not been watching the show, and Richie felt another wave of guilt crash over him. “Are you okay, Rich?” Carmy questioned, concern filling his voice as his eyebrows knit together. 

Richie shook his head, “I don’t fuckin’ know why Sierra hasn’t said shit, but we uh- hooked up at Marcus’s birthday party.”

“What the fuck! Ew!” Sierra yelled from the couch, “I would NEVER fuck you Richie.”

“That’s not what you fuckin’ said on Saturday!” Richie yelled accusatory back at Sierra. She rolled her eyes and stood up, revealing her lacy underwear to the two men. “Carmy and I left at like 11 and I was with him the entire time. When would I have had the time to fuck you, Richie?!” she yelled, stepping closer to Richie.

“You were in the kitchen upset about somethin’. I asked if you wanted me to kick Carmy’s ass, then you kissed me and went off on some ‘haven’t fucked a real man’ bullshit.” Richie clarified. He was angry at himself for sleeping with Carmy’s girlfriend, and now she stood there lying to the two of them. Richie watched Seirra’s face contort in frustration, “That didn’t happen, Richie!” 

“Yes! Yes, it fuckin did! Sierra, what the fuck!” Richie groaned. The two were ready to rip each other’s throats out when Carmy broke the tension with his laughter, “Did Y/N go to the party, Si?” he managed to get out between laughs. The realization on Sierra’s face was comical, “I’m gonna kill her, Carmen.” Sierra shook her head as she stomped her way back to Carmy’s bedroom. Richie shot him a confused look, “Sierra has a sister… identical twin sister- Y/N.”

Part 2

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Big Family

Sam Winchester & daughter!reader, Dean Winchester & niece!reader, Castiel & teen!reader (obviously platonic), Claire Novak & Winchester!reader (platonic)

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You and Claire meet for the first time, but it doesn’t go so well at first.

“Claire, this is Y/N.”

Claire barely spared the girl a glance as she dropped her gear next to the table in the bunker and headed off to find a shower.

It had seemed like the whole ride back from the hunt, Sam Winchester could speak of nothing but seeing his daughter again, and Claire was sick of the girl before they’d even met.

It didn’t help that Cas and Dean kept adding bits about how great you were, and how much you and Claire would get along. She hadn’t felt so ignored in a long time.

She knew, deep down, how childish she was being, but she couldn’t help it. Ever since her parents had died, those three idiots had been the closest thing she had to parents, besides Jody. Hearing that they had someone, someone better than her, someone actually related…

It hurt.

…

Claire had half expected Sam to come after her to give her some stupid talk about how she was feeling, but even after she finished getting cleaned up, he was nowhere to be found. She went to the library of the bunker to find you and Sam; he was listening with wrapt attention while you caught him up on your past few days.

“You go to school?” Claire asked when you were finished speaking, and you and Sam turned to look at her.

“Yeah, I’m not that involved with hunting,” you explained with a shrug. “I usually just help with research sometimes, but I’d rather focus on school.”

Claire didn’t respond. This was the girl that they thought she’d get along with? She didn’t even hunt!

“So what happens when your dad needs backup? You’re too busy in math class to care?”

“Hey, um—“ Sam interjected. “Claire, how about I show you around the bunker. Hey Y/N, can you go find Dean? I think he might’ve gotten hurt by one of the vamps, but he’s being too macho to admit it.”

“Sure,” you said quietly to your father, ignoring Claire as you passed her and headed to Dean’s room.

“What was that?” Sam asked, and Claire was annoyed by his gentle tone.

“What was what?”

“Don’t,” Sam said. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You don’t even know Y/N, why are being so cold to her?”

“Oh, sorry,” Claire scoffed. “I didn’t mean to upset your princess.”

“Stop it.” It wasn’t Sam that had spoken this time, but Cas, who just entered the room. “Claire, what is going on?”

“Nothing,” Claire huffed. “I just don’t like her, ok? Get over it.”

“You don’t even know her,” Sam argued.

“I know enough.”

“No, no you don’t. And I think if you try to talk to her, actually try, you two could get along.”

“Yeah right.”

“Claire—“

“You can’t make her like anybody.” All three of them turned at the sound of your voice in the doorway. “She can think what she wants, guys. Just leave her be.” You turned all of your attention to your dad. “Uncle Dean’s fine, by the way, but you look like you seriously need to crash.”

“Yeah, ok,” Sam sighed. “I’m gonna go get some sleep.”

“I should get some food, we’re almost out,” Cas added after Sam left. “Are you two—“

“I promise we won’t kill each other.” You rolled your eyes. “Go.”

Once you were alone with Claire, she turned to look at you.

“So what, now we bond?”

You scoffed. “Do I look like Sam? Like me, don’t like me, I don’t give a crap. I didn’t do a thing to you, but if you wanna hate me, knock yourself out.”

Claire suddenly felt a newfound respect for you; you didn’t take crap from her, which was a start.

“Can I ask you a question?” Claire began.

“You just did.”

Claire rolled her eyes and continued, “Why’d you lie to Sam? You said you checked on Dean, but you went to his room and he was in the kitchen.

You shrugged. “‘Go check on Uncle Dean’ is dad’s most obvious code for ‘I want to have a conversation about you’, so I figured I’d stick around.”

When Claire didn’t respond, you continued.

“Ok, so now it’s my turn for a question. Why do you hate me? I mean we haven’t even met before, and I’ve heard only great things about you.”

This got Claire’s attention.

“You have?”

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “The guys talk about you all the time, half the time it felt like you were a long-lost sister.”

“Gosh, is my face red?” Claire muttered, without as much sarcasm in her tone as she would’ve liked.

“What?” You asked.

“Look,” Claire sighed. “Most of the time, the guys can do nothing but talk about you. I mean Sam brags on you like you’re Mother Theresa or something, and I guess…I guess I was jealous.”

Claire half expected you to laugh, or to get angry, but you just smiled.

“You? Jealous of me?” You laughed, but not the cruel laugh that Claire had expected. “That’s crazy! I mean, you’re the one that goes on all those hunts with them, and they love you!”

“But I’m not their kid,” Claire argued. “I…look, after my parents died, Jody and those three guys were my only family. So when I found out they had their own…”

“You think just because I’m Sam’s daughter, I can somehow…what, take your place?” You shook your head. “Uncle Dean likes to say that family doesn’t end in blood. You’re their family—our family. I can’t take your place, and you can’t take mine. Those three idiots can love both of us, trust me.”

“Yeah,” Claire cracked a smile. “I guess they can.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy

[freedelusionshere]

Mikey, Cicero, and the mob as a representation of toxic masculinity.

Keep thinking about how Mikey is denigrated by Lee and others in Fishes for trying to come up with side businesses constantly, but to me it reads like someone who desperately wants to go legit but can’t? Same thing with franchising The Beef. Gets him out from owing Cicero or passing on that legacy to Carmy or Sugar. Mikey always has to act tough and untouchable and fake confidence to navigate this, which was probably handed off to him when his father went wherever he went. And it earns him admiration (Mikey was "cool") while internally he's self-destructing. And like Donna, whatever he wanted or dreamed for his life was pushed to the side.

Btw, the name Cicero could be a very “on the nose” reference to a Chicago town that was taken over by Al Capone to protect his territory. Like Capone, Cicero really “owns” The Bear one way or another right from the go. On the surface it appears he has guilt over Mikey’s death, wants to help the Berzatto family, etc.

But the entire time he’s around the family, even in flashbacks like Fishes, he’s trying to talk business in one way or another. Think about him (update: it was Lee, not Cicero, but my point stands, because Lee is also in on this) trying to bring up real estate to Donna in the kitchen (which she tried to beg off) or him jumping in on convos, Richie’s ask for a job, etc. Later all his convos are about money, about how he doesn’t want to take it from them, but he will. Tapping Sugar to handle all the financial stuff for him (I bet it will come out in S4 Donna does that for him on the real estate side).

Here are several other examples:

Mikey hid Cicero’s money away in tomato cans for Carmy to find and Carmy tells Cicero and his reaction? Thank God he didn’t put it in a bank. LOL.

Carmy “joking” in S1 about how he doesn’t want to get his legs broken. (Carmy is portrayed as very straight-and-narrow, not tolerating drugs being sold in the alley outside, and having a strong reaction to Claire admitting she liked to shoplift as a kid).

Richie having a gun to protect the shop and later telling Carmy he’ll come after Cicero if he comes for them.

Richie dealing with the mob associates lingering on the sidewalk outside The Bear, who are obviously conducting business of some kind.

The way The Beef has magically always had just enough money to stay afloat all this time and has things hidden in its walls. The story about Mikey trying to burn it down to collect the insurance money rather than allowing all this to continue when he spiraled.

Claire “joking” about sending Faks to beat up Carmy. I guarantee you there are Faks who do this, the Cena character 100% reads as a body man, you see him physically intimidating his brothers to be "funny".

The sudden presence of The Computer as a numbers guy coming to reconcile Cicero's accounts for someone(s).

Mikey not allowing Carmy to work at The Beef and pushing him away emotionally to make him want to GTFO of dodge.

The partnership agreement that seemingly comes out of nowhere, as Cicero now tries to rope Sydney into the family operation? Which is super triggering for her because she already has trust issues around Carmy as a business partner?

This also plays into the show liking to make references to Shakespeare which had violent family factions who controlled things (Romeo & Juliet being the most obvious) and Michael Mann who often focuses on organized crime in his storytelling.

This is all background noise and not the main driver of the show, but I was curious to see what others think about this and if anyone is noticing all of this? Especially when it comes to the kind of masculinity that is being idolized by characters like the Faks, even though it appears to go against Neil's actual nature.

[fanficshiddles]

The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 17

Loki had a battle in his mind about where to take Claire. Whether her place or his place would be better. On the one hand, he thought his house would be good as Bat could help calm her down. Then again, he thought once he told her the truth about vampires, he worried she might freak out about being in the home of one.

On the other hand, if he took her back to her home, she might feel better being in her own surroundings. Though he didn’t want to scare her over a vampire being in her home once he told her he was one, thinking she might panic and think there’s nowhere safe to go if she’s scared.

In the end, when the taxi took them closer to both homes, he made the decision to go to his place, then if she did go into a further panic, he would get a taxi to take her home.

When they arrived, Claire was calmer and had stopped shaking. She was still confused and a bit vacant.

Loki paid the taxi driver, then helped Claire out of the car. She was able to walk, though was a little stumbly as her legs were weak from the shock. Loki kept his arm around her as he guided her up to the front door.

As soon as they stepped inside, Bat was purring around Claire’s legs as if she had been waiting behind the door for them to arrive. She followed Loki and Claire through to the living room, as soon as Loki sat Claire down on the sofa she jumped up onto her lap and began rubbing her face against Claire’s chin.

‘Hey, Bat.’ Claire whispered as she wrapped her arms around the cat and snuggled into her.

Loki nipped through to the kitchen to get a glass of water for Claire, he also grabbed a throw that was draped over the back of a chair at the dining table. When he got back to the living room, he wrapped the throw around Claire’s shoulders and handed her the glass of water.

‘Are you ok, darling?’ He asked softly.

Claire took a few sips of the water and nodded. ‘Jessica… that was… that was no act. That was real. She’s a vampire. They’re real.’ Her voice went a little shaky again.

Loki nodded as he rubbed her back gently. ‘They are… and she is… she won’t have meant to scare you like that, or hurt you, she was caught up in a feeding frenzy, won’t have been thinking clearly. She’s not a bad vampire. It was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time…’

Claire buried her face against Bat’s soft fur for a moment, she was still purring, which was really calming for Claire.

‘Wait…’ Claire raised her head to look at Loki, she looked slightly uneasy. Loki knew what was coming.

‘You’re so calm about this, you know about vampires?’ Claire asked.

Loki nodded slowly. ‘Claire… I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I’ve been so worried about scaring you.’

Claire’s heart began racing, so much so that Loki could hear it.

‘You have been right about vampires all this time, about the red river. The rumours are true, well, sort of.’ Loki said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head. ‘I… I’m a vampire too, Claire.’

At first, Claire wanted to laugh. Even though she had always hoped deep down that the rumours were true, she still thought it was impossible to be real. Then she felt fear, though she quickly realised it was ridiculous to be fearful of Loki, he was so kind to her and sweet…

Claire couldn’t say anything, she couldn’t get the words to come out, her eyes were wide in shock and Loki could still hear her heart beating like a million miles an hour.

Loki stood up and took a few steps backwards. ‘I won’t hurt you, I promise. If you want me to call you a taxi home, I will do it. I’m not going to trap you here. I’m still me.’

It took a minute for Loki’s words to really sink in.

‘I… I just need a moment to process this…’ Claire put her hand over her face and breathed in deeply, her breathing was wobbly.

She realised that even though she was just told that Loki wasn’t human, she didn’t feel like she was in any danger at all, he wasn’t a threat. In-fact, she realised that her thoughts were running wild in an excited manner with so many questions more than anything.

‘I can give you some space if you need.’ Loki said softly.

Claire didn’t answer straight away, she looked down at Bat and focused on her for a while. Then she looked back up at Loki, who surprisingly looked really worried. That melted her heart, the fact he was worried about scaring her.

‘I uhm. You’re not pulling my leg, are you? This is genuine?’ Claire tried to keep her voice steady but it did break a little.

‘I’m not pulling your leg, sweetheart. It’s been difficult not telling you the truth, I can’t apologise enough for not being truthful. Though telling someone you really like that you’re a blood sucking monster, isn’t the easiest of things to do.’ Loki rubbed the back of his head.

Claire closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before opening them again. ‘Do you… do you kill a lot of humans?’

Loki’s eyes widened and he looked almost hurt, but he remembered that she didn’t really know anything about their world. So he couldn’t blame her for assuming that. ‘God, no. I don’t feed off any human, unless they are willing… There’s a lot to it. The hospital dad runs, the blood-bank side of it, is a way for vampires to get their feed without involving a human directly. There’s a few humans that also volunteer themselves up to it but that’s pretty rare. I’ve only ever fed off of around ten humans in the span of fourteen years being a vampire. Most of us want to co-exist peacefully with humans, not to harm them.’

‘Why do you call yourself a blood sucking monster then?’ Claire asked quietly.

Loki raised an eyebrow. ‘Well… that’s what a lot of humans still think of us, because there are still a handful of vampires that like to feed from humans without consent and for the thrill of the hunt, they enjoy hurting.’

Suddenly Claire began piecing things together and Loki could practically see the lightbulb going off in her brain.

‘Wait… so your dad is a vampire if he runs the hospital and blood bank… Chris is a vampire too, isn’t he? That’s what you don’t agree upon? You both have different views on it all?’

Loki nodded with a half-smile. ‘You’re far too smart for your own good.’ He chuckled. ‘Can I sit next to you?’

Claire swallowed hard and while she definitely was nervous, she wasn’t scared per say. She nodded though and looked down at Bat, continuing to stroke her as Loki came and sat down next to her, though he didn’t touch her.

Loki noted that her heartbeat had slowed down, no longer in fear. He could tell she was still on edge and that she had a million questions no doubt.

‘Chris believes that vampires are the higher beings, that humans need to evolve. He’s been around for a long time. Very old school, dad was of the same principles as Chris back in the day. They went around turning as many humans as they could, on a bit of a spree. One day, dad realised they were going too far, Chris began killing some humans that he didn’t deem worthy of turning into a vampire. Then dad met my mum, and that’s when things drastically changed. Chris still believes in the old ways, he likes the torture aspect and hurting humans. Dad began his mission to allow us to live in harmony with humans, to change our ways. Thankfully many vampires follow his teachings and want to do good, too.

We’ve come a long way, but still have a long way to go… What you saw tonight with Jessica, she was feeding from drunken humans. We have deals with some bars and clubs that we can feed from the drunks out back, as long as we give them an endorphin release so they don’t feel pain, and when they come around, they think it was just a drunken dream. Some vampires find that a safe compromise for getting their feral urges out, but without causing too much harm or fear. Jessica was so caught up in her frenzy she didn’t realise what she was doing to you. Blood can drive us crazy.’ Loki explained.

‘So, she wouldn’t have killed me?’ Claire asked quietly.

‘No.’ Loki said in full confidence. ‘She would have fed from you, if given the chance. Though you wouldn’t remember it the next morning.’

Claire wasn’t sure whether she should be relieved to hear that or not.

‘I… I think I’d like to go home… I don’t, I don’t mean I’m shutting you out or anything. I just need some time for this all to sink in. It’s a lot to take in.’ Claire said as she looked down to focus on Bat again.

Loki nodded and stood. ‘Can I walk you home? Or do you want a taxi?’

‘Uhm… A taxi, please. I think. I don’t really know.’ Claire’s brain was a complete jumble. She had so many questions but she didn’t know how to get them out properly, plus she was feeling quite nervous and she wasn’t sure if that was just from the shock with what happened with Jessica or because of Loki admitting he was a vampire too.

So, she needed a bit of time to get her thoughts to settle. Still having alcohol in her system really wasn’t helping either.

Loki called her a taxi and it arrived within five minutes. He walked outside with her after she gave Bat a last cuddle. He walked her to the taxi and opened the door for her after slipping the driver some money.

‘Can you text me when you get in, so I know you’re home safely?’ Loki asked.

Claire nodded and gave him a small smile. ‘I will… Thank you for saving me tonight.’ She went to reach out to touch his arm, but hesitated and brought her hand back.

Loki’s heart was tugging at him, but he knew she just needed time to process everything that had happened tonight. He had to have some patience.

Of course, he knew that she would be safe enough taking the taxi home, but just to be on the super safe side he turned into a bat and followed the taxi to her home, making sure to stay hidden from her as he watched her head inside her building safely.

When he flew home, he was relieved that she did text him, but what made him smile was she ended the text with a ‘x’ still.

Which gave him hope.

[notsoattractivearenti]

Polar Opposites (Christian Pulisic x Reader) - Part 3

WC: 1.9K

Warnings: curse words, slight mention of alcohol

A/N: Here comes the 3rd part… 2 more to go! 🥰 Before you read this, I’m here to remind you it’s best to read the previous parts first 😉 apologies if this part may not be as good as the previous ones, but I hope you all enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts thru reply/reblog/ask 🫶 If you wanna be added to the taglist let me know 😊 Feedbacks are highly appreciated! 

| PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 4 |

---

It was time for you and Christian to help the future bride and groom find their wedding dress and tuxedo respectively. You went with Claire to a bridal shop while Christian accompanied Nick to the tuxedo gallery.

Since the day Nick told you he was going to propose, you had done a lot of research about wedding dresses – the styles, necklines, fabrics, lengths, etc. – so you could be helpful for her while she decided on the perfect dress for her big day.

The previous week, you both went to several bridal shops and finally settled on this one store – which had more options that suited Claire’s liking and the price range was on the budget. Claire was so excited to try on different wedding dresses today, she told you how she had been waiting for this day since forever. You couldn’t be happier to be there with her, and you were so thrilled to see a preview of your best friend as the most beautiful bride in the world.

“Y/N, what do you think of this one?” Claire asked, showing you the dress she was wearing.

“Beautiful! I think the A-line style suits you perfectly. But maybe try another dress with different necklines and uh, some laces?”

“Wow, Y/N, since when did you know about this stuff?” She sounded amazed.

“I’m a Person of Honor, aren’t I? I’m doing my job as one. You deserve the best, Claire.” 

She held your hand and smiled at you. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

As Claire tried on another dress, you poured champagne to the glasses for you and Claire. You loved how you got to enjoy free champagne because you were quite overwhelmed – you didn’t expect shopping for wedding dresses would be this complicated.

“So, Y/N, have you talked to Christian?” She asked as you helped her put on a dress.

You raised your eyebrows, confused by the question which seemed to be so out of the blue. “About what?”

“I don’t know, anything? I mean, aren’t you friends with him now?”

“Friends? Nah.” You pouted and gave a dismissive wave of your hand. “That stupid man-child will never be my friend. Do you know how difficult it is for me to tolerate him?”

“Oh no...” She shook her head, her hands were covering her eyes, “Did I miss something?”

“Uh.. Okay. Claire, to be honest…” You paused for a second, “I didn’t tell you anything because well, I don’t think you’d like what you’re about to hear.”

You finished an entire glass before you continued. “I don’t like him. Can’t even stand him. I’m telling you, he is truly a fucking pain in the ass.”

“Come on, he can’t be that bad, Y/N. Christian is actually one of the nicest guys I know.” She responded.

“Nicest? Girl, your standard on ‘nice’ must be low. Christian is nowhere near ‘nice.’” You disagreed with her.

“Hmm, I think I see what’s going on here...” She covered her mouth and giggled a little. “You can’t stand him because you have feelings for him.” 

“Exac- wait what?” A look of surprise appeared on your face.

“If by ‘feelings’ you mean like loathe, exasperation, then yes, you are so right.” You corrected her.

“Please, quit playing Y/N,” she teased you, “you know what I’m talking about.”

You rolled your eyes, “Claire, you have got to stop romanticizing things. I just really don’t like Christian.”

“Oh, you adorable oblivious idiot,” she said as she pinched your cheeks, “believe me when I say you two have the connection I’ve never seen before!” 

“Uh, what the hell? Are you fucking rambling right now?” Confusion was written all over your face.

“I saw how you guys were during the party!” Claire exclaimed joyfully. “There was definitely something between the two of you. Now you’re telling me you don’t like him? Nah, I don’t buy it. You’re clearly just in denial.”

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough champagne, lady,” you said as you took the glass on her hand and put it away, “I’m not in denial or anything, he and I are just too different.”

You then told her everything that happened during the day when you and Christian were planning the engagement party. Claire was so entertained by your story, she thought you and Christian had so much chemistry.

“Also, first impressions matter,” you added. “I didn’t tell you this, but remember the dinner when you and Nick introduced me to Christian? He was really rude to me that night. I don’t want to go into details but yeah, I don’t like him.”

Claire was silent, but her facial expression at the moment spoke a million words. She clearly didn’t believe everything you said because she was so sure you had feelings – romantic feelings ­– towards Christian. You were just too stubborn to notice it.

“Plus, he stole my ice cream and berries, Claire. My ice cream and berries. You know how protective I am when it comes to my food.”

She laughed. “Trust me, Y/N. I know.”

---

“You look so good in this tux, bro. Very sharp.”

“Thanks, man,” Nick looked at himself in the mirror, pleased with the tuxedo he had on. “I like this one too.”

“By the way, Did Y/N tell you how the dress shopping went?” Nick asked.

Christian squinted. “Umm... No? And why would they?”

“I thought you two are close now? Aren’t you like, texting and all?”

“No, Nick. Just because we did something together doesn’t instantly make us friends.” He shrugged his shoulders with his hands up. “You don’t know this but planning your party with them was a torture. They are like, so stubborn and aggravating. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve not put up with them.”

“But you guys pulled it off perfectly! It must be a good sign, no?”

“Yeah, because we had to!” He insisted. “Do you know how long it took for us to finally come up with the plan?”

“A day?” 

“Yes but it felt like eternity... In hell.” Christian heavily sighed. “We were basically screaming and yelling at each other. It was a lot.”

“Mmhm... Passion.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Bro, come on, it’s obvious,” Nick chuckled. “You two have this burning passion between you.”

“Yeah right” Christian laughed. “Passion my ass.”

Nick saw an opportunity to tease Christian. “Well, Chris, Webster’s dictionary defines passion as a strong liking or desi-“

“Man, I beg you to stop,” he interrupted Nick mid-sentence because he knew what was coming. “You sound ridiculous.”

“Okay then,” Nick turned around to face Christian, “I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me loud and clear you did not enjoy the time you spent with them.”

“I... I don’t...” He stuttered, his voice was getting smaller. He turned his head sideways, couldn’t even make eye contact with Nick.

“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He mumbled, Nick could barely hear him.

“Ha!” Nick pointed at him. “You can’t even look me in the eyes and say shit out loud. Admit it Christian, you like them!”

“Uh, shut up Nick,” he was embarrassed, his cheeks were blushing red. “Aren’t we here to get you a tuxedo? For your wedding?”

“Ah, yes, classic sign of denial: trying to change the subject.” Nick said jokingly.

“I wasn’t, gah,” Christian groaned. “Just pick a tux, Nick. Please.”

---

You just got home after spending most of the day in a bridal shop. You were exhausted, but at least you did help Claire find her perfect wedding dress – it was worth it. 

While you changed your clothes, you heard your phone ringing multiple times. Who the hell texted me this late? You then went to check your phone, and saw 5 unread texts from an unknown number.

Hey, Y/N, this is Christian Pulisic

Idk if you remember me lol

Hope I’m not bothering you or anything

How did the dress shopping go btw

Did you have a good time?

Your jaw just dropped. Holy shit, why is he texting me all of the sudden? You didn’t expect him to reach out to you that night. You didn’t even save his contact on your phone. You kept staring at those texts, not even aware that you were smiling while biting your nails. You weren't sure whether you should text him back right away or wait for a while – and before you knew it, your messages were already sent.

of course I remember u dumbass haha

just got home. it went great, she found the dress 👍

what about u guys?

You just locked your phone screen and were about to put it away when you saw new messages from Christian.

Good to know! 😄👏

He did too. Didn’t take long thank God

Are you going to sleep now?

That was fast... Is he bored or something?

I am actually.. today was a long day

i’m pretty tired tbh

u?

30 seconds later, you received some replies from him.

I think I am too.

Good night, Y/N. Sweet dreams

Talk to you soon 😊

Another smile appeared on your face – but this time it was bigger. At the same time, you questioned his intention: why is he being so nice to me?

good night Christian

After sending that message, you charged your phone right away then went to lay on your bed. Fuck, what is happening to me? You covered your face with a pillow and let out a shriek. Dammit Y/N, remember how unbearable he is! You tried to come to your senses. You kept reassuring yourself he wasn’t someone you could see yourself having any kind of relationship with. You and him were supposed to get along only for the sake of the bride and groom – and the the wedding festivities come to an end, that would be it for you two. 

And at this moment, doubts filled your mind. After the conversation you had with Claire, you couldn’t help but wonder if you really did have some kind of feelings for Christian. The differences between you two were just too much for you to handle – or so you thought. Before you went to sleep, you whispered to yourself repeatedly: ‘Don’t be a fool Y/N, nothing could happen between you and Christian.’ You didn’t realize that Claire was right – you were in denial.

---

Christian couldn’t stop thinking about what Nick said. Passion? What was he talking about? He wanted to believe Nick was talking nonsense but he wasn’t even sure. He didn’t even know whether he had experienced ‘passion’ before.

He also recalled how you said to him that you two were just so different. He thought to himself: how can you have a passion for someone who is a complete opposite? Somehow, you were on his mind – he couldn’t think of anything else but you. He still perceived you as somewhat maddening, but he did enjoy your presence. 

Suddenly, he wanted to know how you were doing. No, not about the dress shopping – you. After pondering on whether or not it was okay to text you, he finally gained his courage to do so. It took him a while, he was really nervous but he sent the messages anyway. He didn’t expect you to respond – he was sure she hated you, also it was already a late night – but when he saw your replies, he was so relieved. His face lit up the whole time.

good night Christian

That message from you made him beaming – he went to sleep that night feeling content, already excited for the next day. Little did he know, you were struggling with your own feelings.

---

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @masonspulisic @swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @mortirolo @masonsrem @cinderellawithashoe @alwaysclassyeagle @ala2ilas-s

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twelve

“The good weather is making me suspicious” Claire says to us as we spend yet another blazing hot afternoon on the deck of the mobile. It’s been weeks now without a drop of rain, and I have to concede with her that it’s weird. The grass is starting to shrivel up and turn brown, little whiskers of pale straw, and heavy, dense air oozes through the village like treacle. Everyone moves slowly as though they’re wading through it, anxious for a thunderstorm that never arrives to cleanse it. At night I lie with the windows open, skin glazed with sweat and hair still wet from a cold shower, but sleep doesn’t come easily. It’s rare that Ireland gets hot like this, but when it does it’s unbearable and though I rarely fantasise about wintertime I find myself imagining cold droplets of rain or snow flakes on my arms and face.

“How’s it making you suspicious?” Kelly has big sunglasses on and has turned her face up towards the sun, seemingly the only person who’s enjoying the heatwave. I wonder if she just pretends to, because it’s what Irish people are supposed to do; suffer through the misery of a hot spell because so much of our year is beaten down by rain and sharp winds, long, dark, bleak winters that go on for far too long, we should be thankful for every drop of sunshine that is served up to us.  

Claire fans her face with the book she’s trying to read. “Because it’s never this hot for this long, I’m starting to get awful sick of it.”

“Blasphemy.”

I know that there’s no end in sight yet for it. The forecast shows another two weeks of cloudless skies at least, and at this rate we’ll be into August before we see rain again. I agree with Claire, It’s all becoming too much, and only for my morning swims – which by now have become afternoon and evening swims too so that I can keep myself cool – I’d be really suffering. My pasty skin was never meant for this weather. 

“I’m bored.” she protests. “And there’s nowhere to escape to when it’s like this, I just feel sweaty wherever I go.”

“I’m not.” Kelly says somewhat defensively. “I always spent my summers like this, it’s fine, you just need to learn to relax.”

“But I feel like we didn’t make any actual plans, like Evie is the only one who even left the beach all summer.”

“Yeah to go to an art gallery, which neither of us would be bothered with.”

“And you really wouldn’t have been bothered with that one.” I say. “It was modern art.”

“Bleargh.” Kelly emotes. “I’d definitely rather not have done that. I don’t know why you’re complaining, honestly. This was what you agreed to do for the summer. Better to be doing nothing here than doing nothing at home in the midlands.”

“But it’s my birthday the week after next.” Claire protests. “My eighteenth.” She says this with wide, urgent eyes as though this is of dire importance, like this is the one significant birthday she will ever have. “We haven’t planned to do anything yet.”

“Well we could go to a nightclub.”

“I can’t, I’ll still be seventeen.” I remind them. 

“We’ll just get you a fake ID.”

“No.” Claire says. “I’m not dealing with that. And I don’t want to go to some nightclub for my birthday anyway. If I was at home my mam would have made me a big cake and had balloons and birthday banners up all over the house.”

“And what? A bouncy castle too?” Kelly jokes, and Claire rolls her eyes. 

“Well, what would you like to do?” I ask her, feeling like I should try to help to move the conversation into a somewhat more productive sphere. “I’m up for anything that’s like, not including clubbing or anything else that isn’t age appropriate for me.”

Claire looks away from us and out over the caravan park shrugging. “Well… maybe there’s something I’d like to do, but… it might be a bit late to plan it.”

“We can at least try to make it happen, even with short notice.”

She shrugs self-consciously “On the weekend of my birthday there’s a festival.”

“A music festival?” I echo, thinking that something like that sounds pretty cool to me, actually, and I don’t understand why she seems embarrassed about it.

“Yeah, it’s on up in Laois, and there’s so many good acts playing at it, I was looking at the website the other day.” She looks at me then. “And you don’t have to be eighteen to go. The age limit is seventeen, we could all go together no bother.”

“That sounds so fun!” I say, beginning to feel excited by the idea of going to a music festival; something that always seemed reserved to those older and much cooler than me. I start to think about all the things I will bring with me, and the outfits I might wear when Kelly interjects. 

“Where’d you hear about it?” She asks, her eyes narrowed a little in suspicion. 

Claire shrugs. “Everyone knows about it, it’s a big event, like.”

“Yeah but you didn’t seem bothered about going to it until now, that’s all I’m saying.”

Claire looks baffled, and rightly so, Kelly’s questioning seems absurd to me too. We glance at each other, Claire’s eyebrow is raised and I just shrug back at her. I don’t know what to say. 

“Um. Sorry I didn’t mention it enough times before now.”

“Yeah well I think it’s a bit short notice, we won’t get tickets.”

“No, they’re still for sale.”

Kelly shoots the kind of withering look at Claire that would make me feel like curling up into a little ball and wishing I would vanish, but she seems unfazed. “I think I’ll buy a ticket. If the two of you want to or don’t want to, that’s up to you.”

I pipe up nervously. “But you can’t go alone. Where will you stay? In a tent by yourself?”

“No she won’t.” Kelly growls. “My brother and his friends are going. She’ll probably bunk in with them.” She stares pointedly at our friend “Won’t you?”

Suddenly I understand everything. Kelly knew the entire time that Shane and the gang already had tickets to the festival. I see Claire glancing quickly away from us again, but I catch a pink blush on her cheeks before she turns. Is there something else I don’t know, I wonder? Did the gang invite her to come with them? The thought of this makes me feel miserable, as I start to ponder all the reasons why they might have asked her and not me too.

“I don’t know why we can’t just enjoy the summer with just us.” Kelly rants. “That was the point. You think I wanted to spend any time with Shane? I see him every day at home, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of him always being around and everyone being obsessed with him. Like, sorry now Claire, but is it too much to ask that I get to have friends that actually want to hang out with me instead of him?”

“That’s not true.” I say in an attempt to be helpful, but she just barrells on.

“Oh, Shane plays county football, Shane did eight subjects in the Leaving. Shane is so funny and has so many friends, and he’s going to get into UCD and do science. It’s so boring. I’m actually really bored of hearing about it if I’m being honest.”

“Maybe you should stop being so sour about it then.” Claire snaps back. “Everyone can tell that you’re jealous. So what if you’re not better than him at every little thing? Get over it. You’re boring.” 

There’s weight in the air after this that makes me want to hold my breath for fear that if I don’t all hell will erupt. I glance at Kelly to see her jaw set and her arms tightly crossed over her chest. Claire looks surprised at what she’s just uttered too, but it’s too late for her to go back on it now. She steadies herself and goes on. “It’s my birthday and you can’t even let go of your own jealousy enough to let me do what I want to do for it. If you just stopped needing to control everything then we’d all be having a better summer already, but I’m allowed to hang out with whoever else I want to hang out with, and I’m allowed to go to the festival if I want to. You don’t have to come. And actually, if you’re going to have that annoying face on you the whole time, I wouldn’t want you there anyway.”

“Well, I’m not going.”

“Good.” She stands up so abruptly that the chair rattles beneath her. “And Evie, I can buy two tickets or one. If you want to come you can.”

I blink, dazed. “I um. Nobody invited me.”

“I’m inviting you.”

“Neither of us want to go.” Kelly snaps.

“Are you her mam?”

Kelly’s face is pink and furious now. I’ve only seen her pushed to this point a handful of times and it makes me hot and prickly all over. My stomach feels sick and I desperately wish for the superpower of teleportation so that I can beam myself from this situation, but instead of things escalating any further, Claire just leaves. I watch her storm down the steps and across the caravan park, her blonde hair bobbing about her shoulders until she swings around a corner and she’s gone. I turn to look at Kelly, to say something placid and vaguely comforting to her but she’s not there anymore. Her seat is empty, and I realise she’s gone inside the mobile home to sit by herself, or to scream into her pillow or throw something against a wall as is her usual. The flimsy plastic door rattles shut and seems to echo through the park, and then I am alone out on the deck, ears ringing sweaty palms and heart leaping in my chest. 

Prev // Next

[winksasleeplesseye]

obscura (one)

SUMMARY: Six years have passed. And Amara can't help but think about them as she heads for her next mission, recounting a pair of blue eyes and blonde hair and just what the government has done thus far.

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

WARNINGS: mentions of violence, cursing, experimentation implied, angst

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

London

October 2004

Amara’s headspace had become more and more frequently a comfort these days. A more refined person would call it a mind palace, a memory palace, etc. 

She found living in memories, in moments of calm, had become an anchor for her. Between every punishing mission, she’d find a quiet place and drift and daydream into this place. Her mind conjured up images of a familiar, yet slowly unfamiliar pair of blue eyes and blonde hair but she couldn’t produce much else. But it was enough for her. 

Leon was becoming a distant memory since Raccoon City and that scared her more than anything, not being able to see him or talk to him after everything is agonizing. 

Sure, she had her outlets like kickboxing classes in the gym down the street from her apartment with that stupidly hot instructor John, sporadic visits coordinated by that weasely bastard Simmons with Sherry and Claire, and other things like music and painting but companionship was something she’d craved. Maybe too much sometimes. That was something that still made her just like everyone else. 

Things moved at a breakneck pace after they’d been picked by the government in the aftermath. Once it became known just what Amara carried now forever in her blood, did the threats come for her by the very same government that she thought would protect them. 

Now, she’s just a weapon—correction, an agent to do their bidding, their science experiment. Wesker did this to you. Keeping her mouth shut about Raccoon also guaranteed her safety and not just hers but Leon’s, Claire’s, and Sherry’s safety. 

Another part of her wanted desperately to find the man who put her in this position in the first place. But that didn’t matter now. Wherever he is, she hopes it’s nowhere good.

Above everything else, Amara wanted nothing more than to keep her new allies—friends safe. Most of all, Leon. 

She lets out a pitiful laugh to herself, thinking about him, her eyes focused on the road ahead. If she’d known everything that would’ve happened after that night in the motel, she would’ve held him longer, tighter. Kissed him more and savored the taste of his lips on hers, the feel of him inside her. 

Even in their last interaction, deep down she knew she shouldn’t have let go. 

See you later had shifted from what she thought would only be days, weeks, months…to six long years. 

Rain pelted down against the tan leather of her jacket, she couldn’t find it in herself to even wear a helmet as she weaved through the traffic on her bike. Something about the rain against her face reminded her that she was alive. 

With what she’s paid? A quick trip to the salon would fix her right up anyways. She actually didn’t quite mind when her hair reverted to its natural state. 

Cutting down a narrow alley, she stops short in front of a parked van in front of what seems to be a derelict building. It’s black, inconspicuous, and with this weather? Practically invisible. 

Her eyes venture up at the dilapidated sign above the said building. King Arthur’s Sword in the Stone attraction.

“There seems to be a fine line between coincidence and irony.” She says to no one in particular. The window of the van rolls down and an unfamiliar man sticks his head out. 

“Good evening, Agent Moore.” The man smiles, a little too cheerful for Amara’s taste. “I’m Joe, I’ll be your support on this mission from here.” 

A crack of lightning brightens the area momentarily. “I thought supports usually stayed in an office?”

“Courtesy of the government, this is my base of operations,” Joe, with a hint of a British accent she notices, gestures to the back, Amara briefly sees the high-tech screens and monitors. 

All to keep her in line, she’s sure. For a brief moment, the lyrics of that stalker song by The Police play in her head. Every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you take, every step you take, I’ll be watching you… “Right. So you’re telling me there’s an old Umbrella facility underneath a King Arthur attraction?” 

“According to our intel, yes, unfortunately. There was actually some nonsense of the real King Arthur’s tomb here years ago…soon discredited.” 

“And yet another roadside attraction was born,” she jokes. “Let’s see what we can see, shall we?” 

She doesn’t wait for Joe’s answer, opting to head to the wall to climb up from the gutter into an open window at the top. Dropping gracefully into the expansive space, decorated distastefully and quite cheesy for a King Arthur attraction. 

“Joe, hear me loud and clear?” Amara pressed the comms system on her ear. 

“Clearer than clear, love.” 

“Good, hopefully, this will be educational for you.”

“Learning from one of the top agents in the US division is more than an honor.” The thought of being a top agent at one point would’ve made Amara proud but now it felt like a stain that's never washed clean. 

Covert operations never did seem like things deserving of the honor. 

Crates and other knick knacks lay about haphazardly. “If I were an evil pharmaceutical company, where would I hide a lab?” 

“I thi-“

“That was rhetorical.” 

Amara ventured further in, finding more opulent, ornate items scattered throughout the various ridiculous set pieces. Jill would’ve thought it was a good score. The goofy narrations made her chuckle; were they really trying to actually educate anyone about the King Arthur tale?

Many times in her schooling, particularly on the subject of English literature, her teachers would talk of how King Arthur’s life and deeds gave way to the Arthurian legends. The once tried and true history nerd inside of her would’ve devoured this silly attraction.

Now, she can’t exactly imagine sitting down to read much of anything except lots and lots of mission reports. When she wasn’t reading them, she was certainly writing them.  

At least going on missions broke up the monotony. The routine that had become so much of her life as of late. Another side objective to this mission, one that HQ told her not to really divulge anyone of, was her search for paintings. Not just any paintings either; these ones were linked to Umbrella’s former leader, Oswell E. Spencer. 

She had found 4 out of about 5 (luckily the man never quite got them all in his possession), spanning across the globe, each one portraying demonic, disturbing imagery. HQ claimed they held “power” within the paint which was just about the stupidest thing she’d ever heard but in a world with the most grotesque monsters created by a human hand, was it that stupid? 

Something about each one, despite the thoughts of its stupidity, intrigued her because of the symbols within the image but she did as told, destroying them (and those who protected them). All her intel pointed her to this place but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in July that it was actually here. 

“How long ago did this place close down?” Amara asks, tiptoeing over water-damaged pieces of wood. “This place certainly is not up to code.” 

“The illustrious owner, a…uh, Professor Kenneth Whitman went bankrupt in 2003, it’s been closed ever since then,” Joe answers, “Madness, right?”

“I shudder to think that that man had students, but shudder even more at how much disrepair this place has fallen into within a short amount of time.” 

Amara attempted to test her royalty, pulling up the aforementioned sword in the stone with no luck. No power. No King Arthur glory for Amara. And certainly no way further inside. “Looks like I’ll need to switch on the breaker, wherever it is.” 

“Map shows a side alley entrance, check there?” 

Ugh, back out in the rain? She really didn’t want to go through another period of drying out inside this dank, almost humid place to getting soaked by London’s neverending rain again. This is what I signed up for, remember? 

Yeah, yeah, yeah. But that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. She sighed, following the map displayed on her communicator, the newest gadget added to her gear. 

After traversing over the cast iron gates outside to switch on the breaker, only then does the power cut back on. Light pours out from the windows of the attraction, illuminating the rain as it hits the pavement. 

“And let there be light,” she deadpans, it still earns her a chuckle from Joe through the comms in her ear. 

Through all the narrations and displays, somehow Amara finds that she’s disappointed just a tad that the very room that supposedly was meant to get to the truth of the myths of King Arthur had now been converted into a storage facility.

“So much for getting to the truth of King Arthur.”

“Give the Professor some credit, at least he chose the most boring part to convert. Besides, who wants to know the actual truth anyway?” 

“You’d be surprised,” Amara responded, finding a crack in the wall furthest from an exit beaming red from the fluorescent light above it. She knocked on it, finding the whole wall is hollow. Her eyes also happen upon a forklift, just asking to be used. 

Operating it should be simple enough, right? It’s like operating a claw machine…with two metal sticks on the front. Joe seems to scoff, obviously watching her feed. “Is this what they teach you agents in America?” 

“No, we usually just shoot our problems. But I thought I'd give this a try." Amara quipped. 

He laughed. “I don't know about the forklift, but they definitely teach the sarcasm."

“Oh no, sarcasm is when I say the opposite of what I mean. Wit is when I say exactly what I mean, but in a way that makes you wish you had thought of it first."

“Lesson number one with Agent Moore? Wish I had grabbed a notepad.” 

“I charge for lessons by the hour, Joe. Hope you’re ready to pay up when I get back there.” 

“I’m good for it, love.”

The forklift did its job, taking down the wall to reveal…a secret entrance to a cavern. Amara pretended to be shocked, but she’s not. “Oh, wow, they hid that sooo well.” 

“Is that sarcasm?” 

“Yes, Joe,” she answered, hopping off the forklift. “This next part will require some silence, mate.” 

All she hears is a small hum from Joe in her ear before the line is dead silent. Thank the gods above he knew when to be quiet. 

The cavern is shrouded in darkness just beyond what Amara can see with the forklift’s headlight, so she flicked on her flashlight finding the craggy rocks bending and forming crudely to reveal a path. It seems to descend rather than just go straight forward. Huh, so it goes underground? This just keeps getting better, doesn’t it, Amara? 

It’s a bit of a tight squeeze in some places, especially with all her gear, but she manages. More and more static filters through her comms in her ear the deeper she goes, so she lowers it. She almost wanted to let out a sigh of relief at the fact that she was finally alone even momentarily. 

Eventually, the cavern begins to open up, an almost ominous humming echoing off the walls of the cavern as she gets closer to…

…a lab? Down here? 

Well, at least the intel was correct. 

The humming, she found, emanates from a big generator nearby which is hooked into a cavern wall. The wires seemed to lead nowhere, perhaps they were powered on with the breaker above ground? It looked more and more likely. 

“Does this shit ever get less complicated?” 

In 2003, after a lengthy trial that led to the dissolution of Umbrella and loss in stocks, the US Government, in a rare show of giving a shit, went after all involved with the company but that didn’t absolve their part in blowing Raccoon sky high. Hence, why she was here, partly. 

While she’d been on other tasks (very much like the government’s goddamn lackey), this one was of the utmost importance. After RC, the government under USSTRATCOM formed the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. To no surprise, she alongside Leon are their main operators (though it wasn’t like they had much of a choice). 

The current administration, Graham and his lovely cabinet, actually seemed to want to take down as many Umbrella adjacent so she’d spent the better half of last year during the RC trials and this year doing this. 

Outside of her Umbrella pursuits, she’d heard of something going on with the President’s daughter but that currently wasn’t under her jurisdiction, technically she wasn’t even supposed to be aware of that.

There was some…mole within sectors so while usually Amara would be flanked by at least two other agents, now it’s down to just her. For reconnaissance purposes, it makes sense. The fewer agents, the less information could slip between the cracks. A smart tactic at the time, smart keeps most people safe. 

But now in hindsight, it seems kind of absurd that one lone agent is tasked to find what could very well be an active Umbrella facility. 

A sleek doorway stood before her, a sense of deja vu took her by surprise. The doors opened with no trouble, and the overwhelming smell of rust and damp concrete mixed with unused chemicals lingered in the air. Almost by instinct, Amara drew her Beretta, taking a moment to scan the surroundings. 

The eerie silence was only broken by the sound of her footsteps echoing off the walls. 

Dimly lit corridors made her a little cautious, only her trusty flashlight in her other hand guiding her next steps. The place was in disarray, with broken machinery, debris, and paperwork scattered everywhere…it must’ve been a hell of a time escaping this place. 

Amara didn’t scare easily but she couldn’t shake the chills up her spine and flare in her nostrils. Taking in deep breaths, she pushed on and focused on what she came here for. The facility is empty as she suspected, so her next steps were getting information and finding the painting. 

A glint of something shiny on the ground just so happened to fall in the line of her sight. 

“Well, hello there,” she bent down and picked it up. A small metal disc with Umbrella’s logo shines briefly in her vision, a small bit of her reflection displayed within the iridescent surface. 

She pockets it and keeps moving. 

Chancing it, she raises the volume back up on her comms. There’s no longer static so that’s a relief. Except now, she had to work a little harder to hear considering the comms tended to block out sound quite well when cranked up, so well, in fact, that she could hear her own footsteps reverberate through to her skull, maybe even hear her own brain knocking around it if she focused hard enough. 

“Joe?” She speaks and for a few seconds, there’s a nerve-wracking silence. 

His one-syllable answer practically rattles her skull from the vibration, “Yes?”

Oh, thank god. Joe may be a tad annoying but at least there was someone to get her through this creepy-ass atmosphere. “Nothing. Just checking that you’re still there.” 

“Were you getting lonely?” There’s a teasing tone to his words that she doesn't appreciate. Fuck, especially here of all places. “If you needed a big, brave man to accompany you, all you had to do was ask.” 

And there he goes ruining it. Some support he is. “Shut up.” 

“No need to be touchy.” 

One thing she’d learned about these paintings is that they tended to be within a shrine of sorts, or blatantly on display. Judging by the narrow hallways and the dim lighting, barely even lighting as much as the shoes on Amara’s feet, she definitely doubts that the painting is here. Seriously, who would even have a shrine down here? 

She paused in front of a rusted door, her hand hovering over the handle. After a moment's hesitation, she pushed it open and stepped into the room beyond. The final room within the lab is a computer lab of sorts, though all the computers are ten years behind. Blocky, huge, and ugly to look at.

As she began to sift through the piles of documents laid atop the desks, Amara's eyes fell on a computer with its screen turned on, nestled in the far corner.

It’s sleek, newer, and curvier than blocky. Someone was showing off to their colleagues. 

That same computer spits lined papers of what seems to be numbers onto the floor. It must’ve also cut back on with the breaker. 

“Joe? You seeing this?” She raises one of the pages to eye level. 

“Yeah, what are they?” 

40.4637° N, 3.7492° W…that layout…these were coordinates. She ran her fingers over the papers, reading them out quietly. Where could these lead? 

“Coordinates. Think if I give you a few, you could find where they are?”

“Give me—“ Joe cuts himself off, shuffling sounds coming from her comms, “alright, give me the numbers.” 

She reads them out at an even pace, making sure that Joe could catch every number. 

This time, his brief silence has her on the edge of a hypothetical seat. It annoys the shit out of her. “Well?” 

“Hmm…” Joe’s small noise is filled with confusion, a first for him that she’s willing to bet on. “These coordinates were pulled recently. Coordinates are in Spain.”

Spain? Pulled recently? So maybe the heebie-jeebies she was getting from that place meant someone else was there not too long before she got there. But, her senses had been too good, she would’ve picked up on someone sooner.

“Think it’s another former Umbrella researcher? Trying to reach out? Maybe another facility?” Amara hypothesized, it was the only logical thing that came to her. 

Joe laughs, though it doesn’t sound like he finds any of this particularly hilarious. “Highly doubt there’s people still that devoted to Umbrella.” 

Amara always divided former Umbrella employees into two categories: the devoted and the wise. She always liked the wise, for one thing, they weren’t as dumb as the devoted (for researchers, they sure didn’t use their brains). The wise researchers knew to get the fuck outta dodge as soon as they even whiffed the brewing disaster. The devoted? Oh, they’d been drinking the red Kool-Aid for so long.

Apprehending the devoted made her feel as though she’d left the real world behind and entered the world of Alice in Wonderland. They’d taken to the primrose path, the path of fantasy and illusion, believing themselves to be doing right with Umbrella as their guide through and through. 

Regardless, both bled the same.

“I think these coordinates will be worth a look. At least I won’t be leaving here empty-handed,” Amara replied. No painting, though. Guess that’d be for another mission. 

The return to the above ground is far less treacherous, a bit anticlimactic but she likes that. She’s well-equipped to engage in a little hand-to-hand combat, all thanks to Uncle Sam but these jeans were far too nice to get messed up. Who knew that she could throw a man off balance by just using her legs? Those were the better parts of training, the others she hoped would never resurface in her brain. She’d gotten good at dividing parts of her life now into sections. 

Climbing up the way she came in, she drops right down outside into a puddle, splashing a bit of her bootlaces with rainwater. It already seeped into her socks. Gross. 

She lets out a deep breath as she walks back over to Joe’s van (she’s not calling that thing a base, no matter how much he convinced her), holding out the disc she’d found earlier. “Mission accomplished?”

He runs it over and over through his fingers, appraising it for its usefulness to the reports he’d no doubt have to write too. “Mission accomplished. Well done, Agent Moore.” 

“Now you and your mystery van can skedaddle.” Amara waves her hands towards the road, chancing her eyes back towards the attraction. She sees a flash of red atop the roof. 

Joe chuckles briefly, turning his attention to starting up the van. He’s none the wiser to what Amara has her eyes set on. 

No fucking way. 

Talk about a ghost story. 

Amara makes sure that Joe drives off before following the trail. Could she have left well enough alone and got back to her hotel? Yes, absolutely. But at her core, she knows she’s curious as hell. Always had been. Besides wanting to protect others, she always had a curiosity to know all there is to know. 

And right now, she wanted to know why Ada Wong is haunting this attraction. 

Amara carefully plans her steps, trying to avoid detection by the woman as she watches from afar. Ada moves through as if she knew the place like the back of her hand. 

The path narrows, making it more than a little difficult for Amara to conceal her presence. 

“Well, well, well…” Amara announces herself, and for the first time since she’s known Ada, she notices a minute jump in her shoulders. “Didn’t take you for a history buff.”

Ada is slow to turn around but wears what seems to be a trademark smirk on her face, like she always knew something that no one else knew… most of the time she does.

“I could say the same to you.” 

Ada and Amara now faced each other in the dimly lit hallway. The only sound that could be heard was the stupid, cheesy narration about the Lady of the Lake.  Amara was tense, ready to fight, but also conflicted. Despite everything that had happened, she couldn't quite bring herself to hate Ada.

"So, you're the one who's been tailing me," Ada said, a smirk still ever present on her face. "I'm flattered."

Amara is puzzled by her words, she only stumbled upon Ada by chance. If anyone was tailing anyone, it had to be the other way around. 

"I'm not here to tail you," Amara said, raising her fists. "I'm here on a different mission but stopping you from causing any trouble would be a benefit.” 

Ada laughed. "And here I thought we were friends."

"We're not friends," Amara retorted. "But I don't hate you either."

"Good," Ada said, as she lunged forward with a swift kick. Amara blocked it easily, her training kicking in. The two women traded blows, each trying to gain the upper hand. Amara was quick and agile, an added benefit to whatever pumped through her blood, but Ada was more experienced and calculated in her movements.

As they fought, Amara couldn't help but think about the strange friendship that was developing—well, redeveloping— between them. She and Ada were on opposite sides, and now they crossed paths once again. Maybe it was just the adrenaline talking, but Amara found herself almost liking Ada.

"You know," Amara said, as they continued to fight. "I really don't hate you, Ada. I kind of like you, in a twisted sort of way."

Ada raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by Amara's admission. "Is that right? Well, that's good to know. Maybe we can be friends after all."

Amara smiled, just as she landed a punch on Ada's jaw. Ada stumbled back, but recovered quickly, launching herself into the fight.

Despite their differences, Amara and Ada fought with fierce intensity, each determined to come out on top. In the end, Ada emerged victorious, but as she helped Amara to her feet, the two women shared a small, knowing smile. Maybe they weren't enemies after all.

“With that in mind, you’ll have to forgive me, friend.”

Ada moves quickly, too quick for Amara to stop her. Jabbing a needle into her neck with efficiency. Not even her body could fight whatever was within the syringe. 

Things become unfocused, and blurry as she stumbles back, away from Ada. She clutches her throat, every muscle in it closing up. The last thing Amara sees is Ada standing over her, she fights to get out one crucial word, “Bitch.” 

Hours later

Amara jolts awake, gasping for air, expecting to shoot upwards but she finds that she can’t move. At all. Upon further inspection, she realizes she’s strapped down to a cold, hard table. 

The brightness of the light above her blinding, making it hard to see beyond its edges. How long had she been unconscious? 

The last thing she remembered is London, King Arthur, and…Ada. God damn it. That’s the last time she lets her defenses down so easily. So much for being friends.

She pulled and struggled against the restraints, hoping that “enhanced strength” would actually come in handy but found they were very unbudgeable.

“I wouldn’t mess with those if I were you,” a voice with an accent sounds off, “they were made just for you.” 

Amara turned her head, finding a curly-haired man leaning against the adjacent wall, his eyes scanning between her and the lab equipment next to him. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“Eso es irrelevante, encantador, ¿no?” There’s an almost sleaziness to his tone, it reminded her of the creeps you’d find on a busy street as they tried to catcall. 

Amara sneered. “Considering you’re holding me captive? It’s very relevant.” 

“I don’t find pleasure in this, precioso.” 

She laughs lightly, he was laying it on pretty thick. “Amara. As much as I love an ego boost, call me by my name.” 

“Amara, I am not the one holding you captive.”

“Okay…if it’s not you, then who is it? How long have I been here?”

“Long enough for me to take your blood,” he gestures to a machine, about 3 vials of red liquid sitting inside it.

“What?!”

“Relax, eh, I haven’t done anything with it. At least not anything they’d want.” 

Amara couldn’t find it in herself to put up with the back and forth anymore. If she’d learned anything from Raccoon City, it’s that time is of the essence and mincing words and being secretive got you nowhere good. “Enough with the runaround what you really mean bullshit. Get to the point.” 

The man comes close to her side, eyes darting around quickly before focusing his attention on her. Apprehension seemed to spring up in him on a dime. Whoever he worked for certainly must have him spooked. 

“There’s an infection, a virus, going around this village. I believe with your blood, they want to strengthen the strain. They call it Las Plagas.” 

So that’s why Ada brought her here. To be used in someone else’s nefarious game. Using her own bioorganic chemistry against her, against others. Amara was really beginning to think whoever Ada worked for and her own government was one and the same. Two sides of the same fucked up coin.

“Great, you’ve already stolen my blood, so why tell me this?”

“I’m a biologist. I think—no, know that I can reverse engineer a vaccine. Something to stave off symptoms.”

With his admission of this, Amara senses a serious case of deja vu once more. It’s John all over again. The intercepted email he wrote echoed in this man’s words, “Seriously, fuck these guys. Innocent people are getting hurt.” 

“How long would that take? I can’t imagine your employers are just going to let that happen under their noses.” 

“This is my lab, not theirs,” Luis said simply. “Think you can stand being strapped down a little longer?” 

Amara didn’t exactly want to trust this man. He’d given up this information so easily, what was to say he wouldn’t turn on her at some point? But, throwing caution to the wind, she goes along. Well, it’s not exactly like she had much of a choice, considering she’s the one strapped to a table, god knows where. 

“Just get on with it.” 

“Name’s Luis, by the way. Luis Serra.”

She nods in understanding, training her eyes on a corner of the wall to try and take her mind elsewhere. The hum of the lab equipment takes over the silence of the room. At least Luis seems to realize that he didn’t have to take up the air in the room by talking every second. Amara appreciates that. 

Her eyes move towards the other end of the lab, scanning over tubes filled with bubbling liquids, diagrams of molecular specifications, X-rays of subjects unknown to her, and, on the far wall, calculations of specific chemicals and their reactions. Whatever was going on, Luis’ employers had been going at it for quite some time. 

Amara is certainly no biologist but training in the government, you had to know some science. It wasn’t just close-quarters combat or weapons training, agents needed an analytical mind and the ability to recognize specimens, especially biological weapons now. 

Training with the government wasn’t too unlike the police academy, though there was the unfortunate thing of everyone, everyone, keeping their eyes on her. Her reputation preceded her and the same could be said for Leon.

There wasn’t a place in training where she didn’t hear utterances and whispers about him but he became just as elusive there as he was to her now. Upon learning that Leon was there, to begin with, pissed her off, they’d clearly gone against their deal but it’s not like she could do anything about it. 

And anyway, the government must have a personal vendetta about keeping them apart. But for her in the same circles, she was the subject. The Subject. Never her and never by name. There was another one she’d heard from recruits as she passed. Dark Angel. 

Dark Angels were known for their inability to fall and their brutality, well, at least to the mythos Amara had read. Still, she couldn’t stand either choice of names bestowed upon her.  

In a way, both were dehumanizing. A reminder of the distinction between her and everyone else. Amara certainly didn’t want to be separated from everyone else. It’s not like she asked to be turned into some science project. As much as Amara hated to, she looked on the bright side…it certainly made her infinitely more interesting than she actually was.

At some point, Amara found that she couldn't keep her eyes open, her eyes fought against the almost burning lids, but it was no use. 

She drifts off, finding that familiar set of blue eyes calling to her again. Man, were they pretty. 

Amara is now sitting up when she wakes up for the second time. Still strapped down, still not-so-cozy and there was a very chilly draft that lingered around, thanks to whoever stole her jacket—but overall this was much better than the hard table.

Shit, they took her sidearm too? Why is she only just now noticing? This place is beginning to suck more and more. 

One thing she hadn’t been warned of was her lungs burning, her eyes stinging, she had to fight for her first breath. She lets out a few coughs, her breathing returning to its normal pace. But, a weariness sat in her muscles that she couldn’t shake. 

Luis…

…where was he? How long had she slept this time? What the hell had he done since she’d been asleep? 

As if to answer her question, Luis runs inside the lab, with an urgency he didn’t possess before. At first, she couldn’t hear him, her senses hadn’t quite progressed past pain. Then she heard shouts. Whispers. Murmurs. 

Luis was yelling. Yelling at her. He was trying to coax her into consciousness in any way he could. “We have to go now!” 

“Go? Go where?” She asks while Luis undid the straps. Her legs wobbled as she stood, all the strength was gone momentarily but she regained her footing quickly. 

“Anywhere but here,” Luis pulls out a Red9, places a magazine in it, cocking it, and holding it at the ready. “You ready for an escape, Amara?”

“Is that even a question?”

He grinned and cocked his head towards the door. Amara hadn’t felt a rush like this in a long time. Something about it reminded her of Raccoon City in a sick, twisted kind of way. Luis grabbed her wrist and tugged her along, setting them both off into a sprint down long corridors and dimly lit passages with side doors and passcodes.

Amara’s eyes widened at just the enormity of this place, this was all Luis’ lab? There was no time to pause and gawk; getting the fuck out of here took priority, otherwise, both of them would be dead. 

“I guess this is a bad time to ask, but why are we running?” She questions between heaving breaths. Running and talking at the same time especially after only just being able to breathe again are not things Amara enjoyed doing. 

“Do you really want to-”

“Yes!” Amara interrupted him, ripping her hand from his to get a better pace going. 

Luis stops short as the hall opens up to a big space. Amara barely has a second to register his ceasing movement, preventing herself from all but crashing into his back. “That’s why.” 

Amara follows his line of sight, upon seeing what he’s referring to, she laughs bitterly. “Are you fucking for real right now?” 

This gigantic asshole stomped in through the door that Amara assumed was their ticket to freedom. He was dressed not unlike a monster she’d seen before, but this guy had a beard, yellow eyes, and sickly pallor to his skin and could talk. Wasn’t it bad enough that she had been kidnapped? But now she had to deal with this shithead? God must be playing a cruel joke on her.

Luis reached for his gun, but before he could draw it, the man’s towering figure charged at them. Amara tried to dodge, but the giant man grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her against a nearby table. She felt a searing pain in her side as something sharp pierced her skin.

He’s not here for me.

Luis fired his gun at him, but it had no effect on the hulking monster. As he advanced on him, Luis ducked out of the way, practically army-crawling to get to her.

"We have to go, now!" he yelled, dragging Amara behind him as they ran towards the door.

Amara stumbled, her head spinning. She could feel blood oozing from the fresh wound in her side and knew they had to keep moving if they wanted to survive. 

Just as she thought they might make it out alive, Mendez lunged towards them, his massive hand closing around Amara's neck from behind. The man was quicker than she thought he’d be. She gasped for air as he lifted her off the ground, the world spinning around her.

Mendez's grip tightened around Amara's neck as she struggled to breathe. She clawed at his arms, but it was no use. She was trapped.

"At least buy me dinner first!" Amara gasped out, her eyes flickering with anger. 

But it was too late. Mendez hurled her across the room, her body slamming into a nearby table with a sickening crack.

Everything went black.

[destieltaggedfic]

Canon Divergence - Part 10

In Which…[Series] – thebatmandiaries   Ao3

Set S1 AU.  Sam is very confused when Dean turns up on his doorstep with his adopted daughter Claire in tow.  But that doesn’t seem to be the only thing that has changed in Dean’s life including someone in Dean’s life called Cas. [At the moment the series is unfinished]

Word Count: 44k                                              No Sex

Ramble On – andchaos   Ao3

Set S6 AU.  After an accident with a ghoul, Dean moves out of Lisa’s and starts building a house where Cas regularly visits to help and stay with him occasionally.  Sam stays in the pit, Crowley is nowhere to be seen and Cas says he is growing more human.

Word Count: 56k                              Non-Graphic Sex

a certain slant of light - aapicula   Ao3

Set S15 AU.  What if Cas didn’t hear Dean’s prayer when they were in Purgatory?  They wouldn’t have made up quite so soon and Dean starts suffering badly from nightmares is what.

Word Count: 31k                              No Sex

It's My Turn (To Be Watching Over You) – Desirae   Ao3

Set S13 AU.  In the quiet moments after Cas come back from the empty, he and Dean finally talk, with Dean admitting that it was only lack of time and thinking that Cas wasn’t interested that deterred him from saying something earlier.  But before they can get their happily ever after they need to get Mary back.

Word Count: 19k                              Graphic Sexual Acts

Any Other Day - peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim)   Ao3

Set S12.  Since the events with Ramiel, Cas’ grace has been doing strange things.  But no one noticed until he was arrested for killing a man in broad daylight while covered in Sam’s blood.  Now they have to figure out what is wrong before he goes nuclear, his bond with Dean may be the answer.

Word Count: 125k                            Graphic Sexual Acts

[ilyrhyme]

chicken girls s10 opinions! (since the final episode came out today)

this season was honestly ROUGH with many different details that made it better and worse in some ways?

season 10a (episodes 1-10):

• the beginning of season 10a was such a slow beginning! getting through the first few episodes was such a bore and i would often skip weeks of watching😭

• i love brat for trying out the parallel between the second gen (s7-9) and third gen (s10) plot lines but i hated it! I’m sorry!!! it was kind of messy and pointless to say the least

• ivy is a boring protagonist and that’s that. after having iconic characters like rhyme and harmony as our leads, ivy didn’t have the spark that they did? she got severely better in 10b (will go in depth later) but she was such a bitch all of 10a!

• kara and ivys beef was honestly funny to watch. im somewhat of a kara stan so to see their beef that was REASONABLE was entertaining and one of the saving graces of 10

• you could tell the writers were bored out of their minds making this season! half of the plot points were either dropped mid season or not even fully developed!!

• bailey and her brother were kind of annoying im sorry. she felt like a sport version of leyla that was whiny literally the WHOLE season. this isn’t the actors fault at all, it’s simply THE WRITERS FAULT

• jj was a chill character. i liked her and she made sense. her home plot line was really sad and bailey had her best moment in the whole season by helping jj which i enjoyed. jj and bailey are one of my fav ships this season btw, they were cute and i enjoyed watching them! (sorry reading this back, this sentence made no sense😭)

• the gen 2 chicken girls were so boring in 10a. i feel like the writers just wanted to keep them in so ppl would still watch for one reason or another. in result of this, they got the dumbest plot lines in the show. I MEAN WHAT WAS THE TEST PLOTLINE W SIMONE AND PETRA?! my girl simone went through sm in 10b tho which ill go in depth on later obvi

• why did poppy do a full personality 360 from forever team? made no sense whatsoever!

• LOVE LOVE LOVE that we brought the dance team back!? it was random but i loved the og plot w the dance team and all that

• petra was a bitch in 10a and i loved her sm😆 she was a better written character than the 4 lead girls and idk why the writers did that but slay!

• kara x bailey, i was waiting the whole god damn season for and we didn’t get it😭

• the best character award goes to finn! he wasn’t annoying and remained my favorite character the whole season. some of y’all bout to hate but he was the best male character chicken girls has SEEN. he was such a better love interest that both walker and tk

• ivy and finn were cute ig? idk they got a build up which i liked but it was also out of nowhere

• i hate theo sm what😭 he was attractive but like he as a total bitch to BOTH petra and ivy! he wasn’t a one dimensional character but wasn’t two dimensional either? (iykyk)

• 10a was messy and i didn’t like most of it sorry😭 BUT 10B WAS SO MUCH BETTER I PROMISE

10b (episodes 11-20)

• UGH WHAT AN UPGRADE THIS WAS!! the second half of the season took like 3 months to come out BUT THE WRITERS NEEDED IT!

• finn, kara and jj were such a trio this second half and i LIVED for it! they were so supportive towards each other

• bailey tempering with more stuff she shouldn’t be dealing with YET AGAIN!! she didn’t need to do that whole thing for ben and set him up w a girl that was literally sapphic and liked her😭

• ivy tryna kiss petras man? kinda bitchy but it was fun to watch more in 10b than 10a? ivy and theo were also kinda cute ngl and they had chemistry

• SIMONE AND CLAIRE WERE AT EACH OTHERS THROATS.

• bailey got better FINALLY. getting her OWN plot line without having to temper with other peoples? YES YES YES. and it was abt trust issues too. ugh so real girl

• petra was so real all of 10b and also deserved SO MUCH BETTER OMG. i felt so bad for her the whole second half

• the whole football, dance crossover bailey thing was kind of a smart move on the directors part? idk it was kinda boring but also gave bailey MORE DEPTH WHICH SHE NEEDED!

• kara for more screen time!!

• kara and ivy had that really cute moment where they forgave each other and ended the rivalry. absolutely loved that

• ivys eating disorder was so important and a great plot point. i love that she was able to open up to the team! my only criticism was that (again, like most of the season) came out of nowhere!

• i feel like they could’ve afforded a better set. you could even tell regionals wasn’t even real bc they didn’t even have a stage

• bailey and sage! i liked them ngl and i hope sage comes back

• why did ivy go back to finn? like she wanted theo the whole season and then went back to him?…I LOVED IT! again, gave the season a bit of spice towards the end which came back to me wanting more!

• the last two episodes were REMARKABLE! 10B WAS GOOD AS IT STARTED OUT BUT UGH GOT SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING AND I WAS SO EXCITED TO SEE THE NEW EP TODAY

• petra needs to come back. i miss her already :(

• i lowkey thought jj and finn were gonna happen but I GUESS NOT. no but i also feel like jj was hinted at as being sapphic. she said smth like "the upsides of being a lesbian are.." and idk if that was referring to bailey or not but i found that interesting

• the group dynamic wasnt there until the last three episodes which was like again, the writers fault but them getting the bracelets out of nowhere was so confusing

• THE LGBTQ SHIPS THIS SEASON (canon and non canon) WERE SO GOOD BYE- BAILEY WAS DEF A SHIPPABLE CHARACTER AND UGH I JUST LOVED IT. FINN MY TRANS BABY!!

• now finally, the gen 2 chicken girls and they're PLOTLINE THIS SEASON. 10a was pointless but 10b. wtf was going on! nothing was working out and simone deserved sm better. claire and bel were SUCH trashy friends. poppy wasn't even given a bracelet so idk why she thought she was a chicken girl?! the existence of leyla was also 100% wiped and it felt like everyone forgot her?? claire also got so mad at simone for giving the bracelets away when she and bel didn't even care about the group the whole season💀

final thoughts:

sorry this was like a 85% bashing on the new season but chicken girls has gotten such a downgrade over time. the fans honestly deserve better if any of them are even still watching lmao. i think we are getting a season 11 bc of the cliffhanger as well as corrine joy (simone) posting a tiktok of them filming. if we do get a season 11, ill probably tune in and give my opinions but that's all for now. i would say to the chicken girls fans and anyone else to give this season a watch in your free time. it isn't terrible but it isn't the best we've ever seen from chicken girls *ahem seasons 3 and 7*. anyways, yeah it is worth somewhat of a watch. the start of the season compared to the ending is astronomical on how much of a change it was. ok bye now haha

[wintermilori]

~ timeskip, at the hospital an hour or so after the attack ~

While he himself hadn’t attended the island’s anniversary festival, busy in his room at Hotel Transylvania on a call with his daughters still back home. It had been a shock, hearing from them that they couldn’t find Peri anywhere then seeing the blonde here in Echo Isle - but as the weeks had passed, he had accepted his middle daughter’s presence, even if he still feared what it might mean for her once things started getting intense as he was certain they soon would. And he had been proven correct the moment he heard shouts from down in the lobby, hanging up with his family immediately and rushing down to see what was going on. It didn’t take long to piece together that there had been an attack - likely from one of the hunter groups that were scattered across the island - but Liam didn’t give much thought at the moment to who it was behind the chaos, instead jumping right into helping all of the injured bodies being brought to the hotel for sanctuary. Years of leadership amongst his royal court of magical beings back in his home country had prepared him for a situation like this, and he was moving almost instinctively as he started to help anyone and everyone he could.

It wasn’t until someone stopped him, another guest of the hotel that Liam had spent a few nights conversing with at the bar, to tell him that they had seen his daughter being rushed out of the fray of the attack and to the hospital, clearly deeply wounded. And the moment that news had been given to him, he had bolted from the hotel. There were plenty of others there to help, to get everyone in safely and to offer the care that the injured would need. Where he needed to be right now was with his daughter. It would have been easier, navigating his way to the hospital if he still had his flight, but it also would have been far riskier. So perhaps it was for the best that he was stuck running through the city, even if it was slower than the mode of transportation he had known so well in his youth.

Nearly twenty minutes later, he had finally made it to the hospital, bursting through the emergency room doors and right up to the check in counter, demanding that he needed to see his daughter. Except they said there was no one checked in under her name, not her legal one nor the nickname everyone actually called her. And she swore there weren’t any Jane Does that met her description either. Which couldn’t be possible. She had to be here. This was the only hospital on the damn island - there was nowhere else that she could be. Liam was ready to shout just as much, to demand to be allowed back into each emergency room until he found her, when a gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder. Spinning around, half hoping it would be Peri herself, it was the first time he’s ever been disappointed to see Clarion standing by his side. “Claire,” he breathes out her name, the single word coming out as if the sight of her was an answer from God himself. “Please. You have to help me. My daughter, she’s here. Her name’s Penelope, or Peri, she actually likes to go by.” With shaking hands he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, pulling up a picture of all three of his girls and zooming in so the focus was fully on the blonde. “Have you seen her? Please, I need to know that she’s okay.”

⋄⋄ ✨ ⋄⋄

One thing she knew went without saying was that Claire wouldn't have reached out if it wasn't for good reason. One thing about her was she was a woman who took pride in her independence, only asking for help when she found it absolutely necessary. Liam had known her better than most people and seen her when she was at her most broken. Claire needed people she trusted right now, and the man from her past was at the top of that list. After all this time she went to him as if it had only been months. Regardless of what happened their closeness wouldn't change but only shift how it was expressed. He had come, which meant more to her than she could find the words for. "Things have gotten worse here. I fear for us, we have nowhere to run with the borders closed," the blonde started quietly, pulling him further into the room so that they could have more privacy. "They made the borders sound like people were trapped in here with us but it's us that are trapped in here with them." Claire motioned to a chair for him while she sat in the one next to it. Even with the door closed the woman kept her voice low to assure no one but Liam's ears heard. "One of them saw me, I may be forced to step down if word gets out. If that happens I won't a way to keep making sure things move forward with getting the borders open."

[book-place]

Raising Her

Warnings: slight cursing, mentions of killing, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Owen Grady x daughter reader

*not my gif*

Summary: There is a child in the raptors cage, but Owen isn’t as concerned as he should be

A/N: This is short, but I liked writing it

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

It was strange to hear giggles in a place like that. A place of dangerous creatures that could kill a person within a second.

The laughter was so full of happiness that anyone unfamiliar with it would feel as if they were hallucinating.

But there it was, a child’s gleeful laughter coming from inside the raptors cage.

Claire whipped her head to face the glass in concern, but that look soon turned into horror when she saw you, a five year old girl, waddling around the raptors cage, the dinosaurs nowhere in sight. But she could only assume that they were waiting to jump out of the shadows at any moment, having a nice snack of child flesh.

“Owen!” The redhead whispered out in terror.

“What?” He then turned around and took in her panicked expression and immediately began to think the worst, “What? What happened?” His words came rushed out.

Claire was yet to take her eyes off your small form as she reached up to point a shaky finger at you, “Ch-child.” She managed to mutter out, then she came to her senses, “There’s a child in there, Owen!” She practically screamed, “Get her out of there! They’re going to kill her!”

The man looked down in confusion, but visibly relaxed when he saw who she was pointing to, “Oh, that’s just Y/n. She's okay.”

Claire finally turned away from the glass and now looked at him in horror, “What are you talking about? That kid is going to die!” Then she started wildly looking around for any of the other workers, “Help! Somebody help!”

She had completely forgotten that it was a holiday and the only workers were a couple of guards that were too far away to hear her screams.

“Claire, Claire.” The woman couldn’t help but feel disgusted at the amused tone in his voice. There was a child in danger and he had the audacity to be smirking.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She snapped, not having the willpower to take her eyes away from your helpless form for even a second to glare at the man like she so badly wanted to.

“She’s my daughter.” He explained slowly, a large hand coming to rest on her shoulder as he talked, “And they would never hurt her.”

That finally got the redheads attention to snap away from you, “What?” She breathed out.

She didn’t know he had a daughter.

“Her mother left her with me a couple years ago.” He continued, “And when I first brought her around to see the dinosaurs… they just seemed to click.”

Claire was officially stunned into silence.

“The dinosaurs feel like they’ve raised her more than I have.” There was no spite or anger in his tone, just fondness as he looked down at you in the cage in complete adoration.

“And how do you feel about that?” She finally managed to get words to leave her tongue.

His green eyes turned back to her, seriousness suddenly taking over his entire demeanor, “I feel like they’re right.”

As she turned back to look out the window, she still couldn’t help her breath catching in her throat slightly as she watched one of the raptors exit from nearby bushes. Blue.

She walked up to you slowly, and you turned to her with a large smile, not hesitating to reach your hand out in front of you and waiting for the dinosaur to come and nuzzle her head against it.

Which she did without hesitation.

“They love her just as much as I do.” A small smile has made its way onto Owens face as he looked at the two of you. The girls he had raised, “And she is safer with them then she would ever be anywhere else.”

[casbeeminestiel]

I had a really fun time writing this one. I've got zero plan for where this month takes me, but much like Dean in this fic, I'm enjoying the ride.

This one is mildly spicy. I haven't quite worked up to a full M or E, so I'll go ahead and rate this one a T for now. Ask to tag!

Day 4: Wicked

Hunts are few and far between these days. With Chuck’s downfall came a few months with no paranormal activity, giving every hunter in the country a bit of a much needed break. Even though cases have begun to appear once more, Dean has realized that they are nowhere near the volume they were before they iced God. In fact, about half of the leads they chase these days turn out to be false.

Still, a job is a job. This is why, when a potential haunting pops up in Rhode Island, he decides to take the case. Dean shoots a quick text off to Cas. The angel is currently out doing “bonding activities” with Jack and Claire, who had shown up shortly after breakfast for a surprise visit. Dean shakes his head and wonders what they’re up to, knowing that bonding activities probably means at least one felony. 

From the looks of it, the spirit is not out for blood yet. Right now, it seems to be more of a nuisance for real estate agents. Whatever it is has chased out four potential buyers from an old house in Newport.

He raps on Sam’s door.

“Sammy, I’ve got something in New England. You and Eileen want to come along?”

He hears a muffled curse from inside Sam’s room, followed by a thump. Sam’s voice carries through the door.

“What is it?”

“A casper in Newport is shaking up the housing market.”

Sam opens the door, hair in complete disarray and a deeply skeptical look on his face.

“And you need my help for that?”

Dean sighs. “Tone down the bitchface, man. I don’t need your help, but I thought we could make it a family thing. Sue me.”

Sam unclenches and reaches a hand up to smooth down his diva hair. “Yeah, ok. Give me an hour to get ready.”

“Make it two. This thing ain’t urgent. No one will touch that house. Plus we’ve gotta give Cas and the kids time to clean up whatever situation they’re getting into right now.”

Sam laughs a little at that. “What, you don’t think they’re apple picking or something?”

“Not a chance.”

“Wanna bet ten bucks that Claire is somehow roping Jack into trouble and the kid doesn’t even realize it?”

“We both know I would lose that bet. Claire is evil.”

“She gets it from you,” Sam teases.

Dean will accept that. “I feel sorry for Cas.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Cas can hold his own. He also gets that from you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a bad influence on the guy,” Dean shrugs. “At least his music taste is better than yours. I don’t know where I went wrong with you, but you really put the hair in hair rock.”

Sam just squints at him for a moment, letting him sit with his own joke before straightening. “Right. Anyways, I’m going to tell Eileen the plan and get ready. Let me know when the others are all set to go.”

“You do that, bitch.”

“Whatever, jerk.”

………

Almost exactly two hours later, they’re all packed in Baby. Cas and Claire are in the front with Dean, and Sam, Eileen, and Jack are in the backseat. Claire has her own car of course, but it died unexpectedly in the driveway when she tried to start it.

“No I didn’t leave my light on, jackass,” had been the preemptive reply to Dean’s question. Claire scares him a little, but mostly she reminds him of himself in a not-totally-reassuring way.

As snarky as Claire is, she chooses to be a good sport and rides with them rather than calling AAA. Dean promises to fix her car when they get home from the case. Her one condition is that she gets to sit shotgun. Nobody wants to argue with her, including Sam.

They roll Northeastward as fast as Dean can go without getting pulled over, taking all the backroads they can to avoid major traffic. Dean has been on some truly long drives before, where the roads seemed to lead nowhere and the next gas station was easily one hundred miles away. He shudders, thinking of US 95 in Oregon. Talk about desolate.

But this one is shaping up to be good. He’s got all his favorite people in one vehicle, his favorite cassettes on deck, a nice and easy haunting to squash, and no big bad on the horizon. Hell, he even has money to burn on a nicer hotel for the night, and he will be using it.

Maybe I can get some alone time with Cas. 

He glances at Cas over Claire’s head where she has it buried in a book, only to find him watching Dean already. Dean smiles bashfully and hopes Cas can’t see the pleased flush rising to his face. Judging by the way his eyes light up though, he can.

This thing between them is largely responsible for the high he’s been riding for the past few days. It’s a wonderful development, truly, but it’s also very new. Dean wants to enjoy the honeymoon phase of their relationship just a little longer before they settle into things more. 

He knows, of course, that he’ll enjoy being with Cas just as much in ten years as he will in ten days, because it’s Cas, and he’s perfect even when he’s the most idiotic and infuriating son of a bitch alive. But he reserves the right to be horny and dumb about his partner when he’s in his prime.

So yeah, he’s booking two singles and one double for the night. 

Humming along the highway, lost in his own mildly solicitous thoughts, Dean doesn’t hear Sam at first when he pipes up from the back.

“Dean, are you listening?”

“Hm?” Dean very resolutely does not look at Cas right now. He especially doesn’t look at his lips. Nope, that would be a bad idea. He needs to pay attention to the road. 

“I said,” Sam starts imperiously, “that I was reading this article about regional dialect, and there was this link to a quiz at the bottom. It’s supposed to guess where you’re from based on your vocabulary. I think we should take turns taking the quiz.”

“Huh, alright. Lay it on me.”

Sam starts in on a series of questions, asking Dean how he pronounces different words and the terminology he uses for a variety of commonplace objects. The others in the car offer their own commentary, especially Claire.

“There’s no way people call a water fountain that.”

“Claire, you’re literally from the midwest. Have you never heard anyone refer to it like that?”

“I like that word,” Jack says, not looking up from his game.

“It is a fun word,” Eileen agrees. “Bubbler.”

“Sam, did it give you my social security number yet?”

Sam is frowning in the rearview, clearly puzzled. “Actually, it can’t seem to pinpoint your region. Your map is showing some similarity everywhere.”

Dean thinks on this for a moment before he gets it.

“Dude, we were raised on the road. You and I have picked up words from everywhere.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. So we have generic dialects then?”

“Guess so.”

Soon, Claire demands to take the quiz, and is the first one who gets a fairly accurate location, unsurprisingly. She’s spent more of her life in the midwest than not. 

Cas thinks the quiz is a waste of time (“I don’t think they have enochian in their database, Dean.”), but he indulges his family anyway.

“Cas, the results are showing your location as somewhere around… Kansas.”

“I do spend most of my time in Kansas.” His tone is dirt dry, but Dean can tell he’s secretly amused by all of this dialect business.

“You’re a billion years old. Have a few years in Kansas really made that much of a difference?” Claire asks.

Cas tilts his head, meets Dean’s eyes with intention. “Perhaps.”

Oh, he’s flirting with you.

Dean swallows. Cas can definitely see that he’s blushing now. 

……… 

Sam seems to be down a dialect rabbit hole today, telling them facts about different regions and how they developed linguistically over time. By the time he reaches a few articles about New England, everyone's a little punch drunk and overtired. Dean is determined to make this drive in one go. The others can sleep if they want. He just needs a little coffee in him, and he’ll be able to make it to Cleveland before he switches off with Sam. 

“Get this. People in Massachusetts and Rhode Island emphasize things they really like as ‘wicked.’” 

Dean snorts, startling a half-asleep Claire from where she’s been nodding off against his shoulder. She glares at him, earning an apologetic grin.

Cas, who has been “resting his eyes” but is seemingly aware of this conversation, murmurs a request for an example from Sam. Dean wants to wrap him in a blanket so fucking bad right now.

“So uh, imagine you’re eating a good sandwich.”

“I don’t know what a good sandwich tastes like, Sam. I don’t need to eat.”

“It’s just a hypothetical.”

“I personally like the footlongs from Subway.”

“Gross, Dean.” Sam pulls a face.

“The more inches the better, right Cas?” He winks at the angel. The look he gets in return is so worth Sam’s disgusted noises from the back. Half-lidded eyes track lazy and hot over his frame from the passenger side. Dean finds his lips suddenly very dry.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Your face says otherwise, Sunshine.

“Anyways,” Sam coughs, “someone from New England might say the sandwich is wicked good or wicked awesome.”

“Doesn’t wicked have a negative connotation?”

“Normally, yes. But people make their own rules for this stuff, man.”

“After all this time on earth, humanity finds new ways to surprise me.”

“I’ll bet.” Sam chuckles.

“Hey Sam, what do they call a sandwich in New England?”

“They have a few terms for sandwiches. Subs, spukies, grinders-” Sam cringes, immediately knowing he messed up. “No, Dean. Don’t.”

“Grinder?”

“Please.”

“But Sammy-,”

“Stop.”

“I don’t even know her!”

Sam groans and buries his face in his hands. Dean for one is very pleased with himself. And hey, he even made Cas crack a smile.

“That was a wicked good joke, Dean.” Eileen, apparently not asleep, chimes in. 

“I’m here all night.”

“I don’t get it.” Jack is right behind Dean, so silent for the past hour that Dean forgot he doesn’t need sleep. Dean immediately does damage control to spare himself from Cas’ wrath.

But he’s hot when he’s mad.

Shut the fuck up, brain.

“I’ll explain it when you’re a little older, kid. Adult joke.”

“But physically I’m-,”

“Don’t care. You’re not old enough.”

“Dean!”

“Talk to your dad about it.” He means Cas, who does not look happy to be saddled with this conversation, but he forgets one important thing about Jack.

He is swiftly reminded.

“Which one?”

“The one who isn’t Lucifer, obviously.”

“You? I’m already talking to you.”

Dean gapes, just a little. He won’t get emotional about Jack seeing him as a father figure. He won’t.

Wait.

“Kid, you ain’t fooling me. You know I’m referring to Cas. Talk to him about it. He makes the rules.”

“Oh, but I was hoping you could override them.”

Dean’s mind is going down a very specific path regarding Cas and rules, so it takes him a second too long to catch up. Unfortunately for his overheated brain, Cas decides to intervene.

“Dean knows better than that.” There’s a suggestion in that rather confident statement that makes Dean go hot all over, the tips of his ears burning and his palms sweating. 

He really likes this, the back and forth routine they’ve got going on right now. They haven’t had sex yet, content for now to let things simmer while they get used to each other in this new capacity. They haven’t really talked about it either. There seems to be an understanding between them that they are both ready, and have been ready in some way for twelve years, but neither of them have made a move.

It feels less like first time nervousness and more like a game. It’s anticipation undercut with mutual responsibility and respect for each other. Cat and mouse, a delicate dance, etcetera. Bottom line is, Dean loves this, and he loves Cas even more. 

………

Sam takes the wheel in Ohio, and Dean passes out for a few hundred miles.

When he wakes up with a familiar crick in his neck, they’re well into Connecticut. The trees lining the freeway are a watercolor riot of red, yellow, and orange leaves and striking birch bark. He presses his palm against the window, feeling the chill seep into his hand from the pane. It must be early, then.

“Morning sleepyhead.” He’s greeted by a grinning Eileen, whose shoulder he has definitely not been drooling on this whole time. He knows immediately by the sing-songy cadence of her voice that she has a picture stored away for blackmail.

In the front seat, a ray of morning sun lights up Cas’ side profile as he appears to be deep in a discussion with Claire and Sam. Dean forgets all about his blackmail suspicions, breath caught in his chest and warmth percolating through his body at the sight of him.

It’s not even lust, is the craziest part. Obviously he feels desire too, but this is much bigger than that. Because for a moment, his sore neck and pins and needles and the other occupants of this car whom he cares deeply about all fade away when he simply looks at Cas. 

Goddamn, I want to wake up to see your face every day. 

He must’ve prayed it, because Cas turns to look at him with a smile so sweet, Dean swears his tooth begins to ache. 

Dean thinks, certainly not for the first or last time, that he might be dreaming. That Cas, grounding, charming, genuine, stubborn, perfect Cas couldn’t possibly be real. But when the angel winks like a dork and turns Dean’s insides into mush, what he does know is that what they have is too wicked damn awesome to ever let go.

[fanficshiddles]

The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 36

Claire was struggling to breathe as her legs carried her as fast as they possibly could through the tall trees, it was just starting to get dark, which made the woods all the scarier.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Her heart raced as she kept glancing over her shoulder every now and then, but there was no sign of him at all.

She knew not to scream, to try and make as little noise as possible. Not that it would help her in the long run, she knew he would be chasing her, that he’d be able to smell her so easily. Though every step she took, twigs snapped under foot that even she could hear clearly over her heavy breathing.

Continuing to run, she leapt over logs and dodged large boulders or the odd fallen tree. She thought about finding somewhere to hide, then had the idea to double back on herself and hide. In hope that he’d continue onwards, to let her run back to the cabin.

She abruptly turned and ran back the way she came, trying to follow the same path she’d taken. She had no idea where he was, for all she knew he could be flying above, watching her right now. Or he could still be hunting her further back. She did get quite a good head start on him while he was distracted, but knowing how fast vampires were, that meant nothing.

There was a large tree with a big hole in the base of the trunk, so she managed to squeeze into there. She took deep breaths to try and slow her breathing down, though her breathing was shaky.

She noticed her hands were shaking, too. She didn’t get long to try and calm herself down, when over the sound of her heavy breathing she heard the sound of wings fluttering around the trees up above. She put her hand over her mouth to try and stop from making further noise. Her ears were on high alert, she soon heard the wings fade into the distance.

Taking a chance, she figured she had managed to trick him into going further into the woods. Though she knew her trail of scent would stop soon, then he’d be coming back this way for her. So she started running back from where she came from.

As she began heading back, she got confused as every direction she looked in, looked the same. With it growing ever darker, it really messed with her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was going in the right direction anymore, but she knew she just needed to keep moving. If she stopped, she knew she’d be done for.

When she came across a small stream, she knew she’d definitely taken a wrong turn somewhere. She skidded to a halt and was about to head back, but she swore she saw a shadowed figure dart between trees.

A shiver ran down her spine and her eyes widened as she spun around and leapt over the stream, her right foot slipped a little and she got her trainer soaked, but she ignored that as she broke into a run once again, the sound of heavy footsteps running after her made her sprint a little faster, even though she was becoming exhausted.

She suddenly felt a rush of wind against her as a bat flew above her head, fluttering his wings at her deliberately. Though then, there was nothing. She kept running, but she realised there was no sound of any wings up above, or feet coming after her.

Feeling like she was about to pass out from continuously running, she had no option but to slow down to a quick walk to get her breath back. She was just starting to think she was getting away with it, when out of nowhere, a strong arm grabbed her from behind and she was pulled flush back against a firm body, making her scream.

‘You really thought you could escape from me, my prey?’ He chuckled wickedly and pressed his nose against her neck, inhaling deeply. ‘I could smell you from a mile away. It is so much fun though, the thrill of the chase.’ He growled and grinded his obvious bulge against the back of her.

Claire shuddered when she felt sharp fangs drag along her neck, looking for just the right spot. She began squirming in his grasp, to try and get away.

‘Please, let me go, please.’ She cried out and tried struggling even harder.

‘You can fight and whine all you want, my dear. It only arouses me further, and will make claiming you all the more fun.’ He said as he brought his free hand up to stroke her cheek. She took that opportunity and bit the fleshy part of his palm as hard as she could.

He gasped, more in surprise at her attack than anything, as of course it didn’t hurt him at all. Though he loosened his grip on her just enough for her to be able to slide downwards quickly, getting out of his hold.

She bolted forward, but didn’t get very far. She was swiftly tackled from behind and wrestled down onto the ground, she didn’t give up, she kept trying to fight him off. Though she rapidly found herself pinned beneath him, with the side of her face pressed down into the dirt and leaves.

‘Hmm, it seems I’ll need to subdue you before I fuck you. You’re far too feisty.’ He snarled at her and nipped the back of her neck with his front teeth, making her yelp.

Then she really yelped when he moved to the side of her neck and, using his fangs, he pierced into her and began sucking her blood.

Her pleas and cries to get released soon fell short and quiet, as her mind started going hazy and she felt like she was floating.

‘Mmm, Loki.’ She moaned out softly as her eye-lashes fluttered, she couldn’t help but enjoy it when he fed from her. It was such an intimate act for them, even more so than sex, she found.

Loki chuckled against her neck. The adrenaline and rush from hunting her had his feral instincts running so high, he could feel the excited rush flowing through his veins as he drank from her. Not only was it from the scene they were doing, but it was the fact that Claire found this just as exciting and arousing as he did, that she wanted to do this for him too, to let him be his instinctive, feral-self.

Not only had he smelled her adrenaline while he’d been hunting her, there had been a very small tinge of fear mixed, though her arousal was what drove him the most, the smell of it had been thick in the air. Impossible for him not to find and track her so easily.

He didn’t want her to be completely out of it, so he stopped drinking after a short while, even if it was difficult since he didn’t quite get his fill. She was still aware and could move, though she felt rather weak. Which had been his intent.

‘Not so feisty now, are you, pet?’ He chuckled wickedly and nipped at her earlobe.

She tried to squirm a little, but that was all she could do. Loki shuffled off of her just long enough so he could tear her jeans off, just using his hands and brute strength. Claire let out a gasp and tried kicking her legs about, though she just couldn’t get much energy to do anything even remotely substantial.

‘Behave, or this will be more difficult for you.’ Loki said in warning as he gave her ass a smack.

She didn’t want to admit how much she enjoyed that… but she did as she was told and stopped trying to get away.

Loki moved behind her on his knees and lifted her hips up slightly, he positioned himself as he took out his cock. He shoved her knickers to the side and with his thumb, he slid up and down her soaking wet cunt, rubbing over her clit which made her whimper.

‘I captured my prey, now it's time to claim my prize.’ He stroked his cock a few times, then lined up with her and thrust in.

She whimpered as he pushed into her, filling her up so amazingly as always. Though he did make her catch her breath as he gave a few sharp, yet hard, thrusts. He was filled with growls and grunts as he tried to control himself, but it was difficult. Seeing her on front of him, in the dirt of the woods, after the thrill of the chase and blood smeared on her neck, he couldn’t help himself from going to town on her.

Claire cried out in pleasure as he used her body, not that she physically could have done anything if she wanted to, she didn’t want to, anyway. Even if the ground was uncomfortable due to small stones and dirt everywhere, she just didn’t care. All she could focus on was Loki’s cock filling her so nicely, building up her pleasure.

Loki dug his fingers into her hips as he fucked her, his teeth were clenched as he was close to losing his mind. He hadn’t planned to drink more from her, so she could remain fully aware, but he just couldn’t stop himself from doing so.

When he felt her cum around his cock, he folded himself over her and thrust deep into her as he sank his fangs back into her neck, re-piercing through her skin to drink more of her blood.

Claire slowly began to black out, feeling so floaty and she was so sure she was on her way to heaven. Or hell, perhaps, as Loki came inside of her.

Loki needed to stop… before he went too far, but his inner vampire wasn’t letting him. He kept sucking her blood, she tasted so damn good, and after her orgasm there was so much blood for him pumping through her veins.

When Claire let out a small whine, just as she passed out, Loki was able to snap himself out of it. He released her neck with a loud groan, his eyes slowly returned to their normal colour. He was panting heavy as he licked her blood from his lips, then licked at her neck to clean her up a little.

‘Oh, my darling.’ He said softly as he scooped her up off the ground and began to head back to the cabin, his legs were a little like jelly.

He got her inside and ran a bath, he was just lowering her into the water when she came around. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled when Loki’s face was the first thing she saw.

‘I’m sorry, Claire… I went a little too far.’ Loki apologised and stroked her hair.

Claire’s smile grew even larger as she looked at him with hazy eyes, she reached out and cupped his cheek. ‘That’s ok, vampy. I love you.’

Loki’s heart melted completely. ‘I love you too, my darling.’ He leaned over and kissed her forehead. ‘Thank you for doing that for me. It was incredibly thrilling.’ He winked at her.

She blushed a bit. ‘It was for me too. It felt so real, like I was really running for my life at one point.’ She giggled. ‘It’s strange how exciting it was, how much I enjoyed it.’

‘I’m glad it was as exciting for you as it was for me.’ Loki moved up the bath and began washing her hair, making her melt.

‘Did I manage to trick you by doubling back? Or did you know?’ She asked with a smirk.

‘It was a smart idea. Though I realised half way along that your smell was stronger, so you’d doubled back. I couldn’t contain a laugh when you almost fell in the stream though.’ He smirked.

‘I didn’t almost fall. My foot just slipped.’ Claire argued, though she still didn’t have the full strength to properly argue back.

‘Uh huh, sure.’ Loki sniggered.

Claire splashed some water at him, making him laugh.

‘Careful, love. You’ve been captured by the vampire and are now in his lair, so you best not push his buttons.’ Loki said in a growly tone with a smirk.

‘Oh, this is your lair, is it? Maybe I’ll need to hang fresh garlic up around the bed, keep myself safe from any attacks during the night.’

Loki made a loud hissing noise, with his fangs visible, showing his displeasure. Claire raised her eyebrows at him.

‘Ok… that was way hotter than I think it was meant to be.’ She admitted.

Loki burst out laughing. ‘I was going for scary, but hot is good too.’

‘Scary hot.’ Claire corrected him, making him laugh more.

[scapegrace74-blog]

The Man from Black River, Chapter 14

A/N  At long last, the truth about Henry, Murtagh, Julia and the whole shebang comes to light.  Jamie and Claire have people in their corner, but will it be enough?

Previous chapters are available on my AO3 page.

“And then what happened?” Claire was held rapt by the story Murtagh was relating, his typical dour demenour nowhere in sight, blue eyes sparkling with mirth beneath thundercloud eyebrows.

“Brian said that if the lad sought tae blame a fox fer all the missing eggs, he could at least harry the hens a spell so as tae make the lie more convincing.”

“Was Jamie punished?” she leaned forward, delighting in the chance to explore another side of the man she’d fallen in love with.

“He’d eaten a dozen raw eggs, lass.  He didna leave the privy ‘til after nightfall.  I reckon Brian felt twas punishment enough and that he’d remember it far longer than any hiding he might give.”

Merry peals of laughter echoed off the rocks, startling several birds into flight.  The sound cut Murtagh like tiny blades, even as it warmed his heart.  Claire’s laugh was a perfect facsimile of Julia’s.

“He sounds like quite a handful,” she commented, unaware of the older man’s torment.

“Oh, aye.  A more devious wee rascal ye ne’er did see.  Brian would send him tae bide wi’ me a spell when he felt himself losing patience. Ellen understood him better.  Peas in a pod, those twa.”

The pair spoke of Jamie’s mother as the cart proceeded down the valley at a sedate pace.  They passed brochs and castles, farms and shielings, all in advanced states of dereliction.  It was a haunting landscape, emptied of life as though some biblical plague had swept through and rid the lush fields and overhanging moors of everything but sheep.

“Ellen was a proud woman,” Murtagh explained.  “She was a Mackenzie, ken, from a branch o’ the clan that hadna suffered as much as most.  They didna approve o’ her marriage tae a mere Fraser crofter, sae when Brian wanted tae go tae her father tae ask fer help wi’ the rents, she refused.  T’would have saved them both a fair deal o’ hardship. The lad is no different.  He’d sooner suffer as compromise his damned principles.”  Murtagh gave Claire a shrewd look.  “T’will fall tae ye tae be the practical one an’ drag the stubborn oaf tae see sense.”

Claire sniffed in dismissal.  “I assure you, Mr. Fitzgibbons, I am more than equal to the task.”

***

Mrs. Crook’s weepy cries of relief brought Rosemary rushing into the kitchen where she came across a sight that cracked her usual unflappable poise.

“Claire!” she cried, throwing her arms around her niece.  “Murtagh??”

“Hallo, Rosemary. Ye’re lookin’ well,” the hermit said, tam clutched between his hands and a blush detectable beneath his scraggly beard.

Pulling herself together, Rosemary asked Mrs. Crook to prepare a warm meal for the pair, despite Murtagh’s protestations that he couldn’t stay.

“Nonsense,” Rosemary insisted.  “It’s gone eight o’clock.  You can’t make your way home in the dark.”  With a significant look, she added, “The men are out searching for Claire.  They won’t be back until at least tomorrow.”

Wooed by the promise of home cooked food and female companionship, Murtagh settled onto a stool before the great hearth and proceeded to charm Mrs. Crook with his Highland brogue and odes to her cuisine.  

Once fed Claire grew sleepy, no doubt worn out by the emotional tumult of the past two days.  Rosemary helped her to her bedroom and into her nightdress, then sat on the edge of her bed and began to brush the matts and tangles from her hair while Claire told the tale of her rescue.  She could make out scrapes and bruises on the young woman’s fingers where her hands lay clasped on the coverlet.

“This Highland lad,” Rosemary asked cautiously between strokes, “he didn’t… impose himself on you?”

“Jamie would never do such a thing!” Claire said, sitting bolt upright in indignation.  “He’s decent. Honourable.  We want to be married,” she added quietly.  “He’s going to ask father’s permission once he’s saved up enough money to start our life together.”

Rosemary sighed.  “I was afraid it was something like that.”

“Will you help us, Aunt Rosemary?” Claire asked, sounding more like the girl she’d raised like her own.

“I can try, but I can’t promise anything.  You know how strong willed your father can be when it comes to his daughter.”

Claire bit her lip, every morsel of doubt and inquiry visible on her transparent face.

“What is it, child?” Rosemary prodded gently.

Unable to contain the gathering suspicion she harboured, Claire blurted out, “Am I really his daughter?”

Rosemary startled visibly before once again donning her smooth mask.

“What did Murtagh tell you?” she asked with an intimation of dread.

“Nothing,” Claire sighed.  “But he had a picture of my mother in his hut.  And you two are obviously acquainted.”   When her aunt didn’t reply, she resorted to begging until Rosemary gave way.

“Once upon a time,” her aunt began, as though telling her a bedtime story, “there lived a young woman named Julia Morriston.  She was beautiful, free-spirited, and used to being the centre of everyone’s attention.  She met two best friends at a country dance, and both fell hopelessly in love with her. They competed for her affections as young men do, until finally she declared that the first to make his fortune would win her hand.  It was a childish impulse that had lasting ramifications we all live with to this day.”

Rosemary looked pained; her profile turned to the window as though she was seeing the decades-old scene play out across the frosted glass.  

“One young man pulled together every pound he had and gambled in one bold stroke on a horse named Blair Atholl in the Derby.  He won, at fifty to one odds.  He was rich.”

“Father,” Claire said, very familiar with the story of how the Beauchamp family fortune came into existence.  “And Murtagh?” she asked.

“Murtagh,” Rosemary smiled wistfully, “decided to try his hand at making whisky.”

***

Claire woke the next morning to the lowing of cattle and the crack of a stock whip.  Rushing to her window, she watched Jamie and Rollo drive the stray cows down the lane and into the nearest holding yard.  The Highlander sat tall and proud in the saddle, his sweaty hair the colour of a banked fire where it met the early morning light.  Sensing her gaze, Jamie looked up and broke into a glinting smile that shot an arrow of joy directly at her heart.  Anticipating his arrival at the manor house, Claire hastened to make herself presentable.

Jamie was bone-weary but burning with the flame of victorious virtue.  He’d retrieved Beauchamp’s cattle; every last recalcitrant one of them.  Even the prospect of having to search for a new position far from his Sassenach lass couldn’t quite dampen his spirits, especially when he caught her watching him with frank female appraisal.  He stabled Donas, performed some brisk ablutions at the well, and hastened towards the manor, careful to enter via the kitchen since he was still in his filthy riding clothes.

“Ye’re back early,” Murtagh said once he had extricated himself from the arms of the Netherton cook.  “We didna expect ye back til teatime.”

“Clearly,” Jamie chuckled, watching Mrs. Crook bustle about in artificial busyness, ignorant of the fact her apron was untied and askew over her ample bosom.  Murtagh’s expression was one of long suffering.

“I was jus’ getting Miss Beauchamp’s breakfast ready,” Mrs. Crook said.

“I’ll bring it up tae her,” Jamie offered.

“We really should be going, lad,” Murtagh advised.  “Ye dinna want tae be here when Henry returns.”

Jamie fixed his jaw.  “We’ll go in a bit.  I willna leave wi’out seeing Claire.”

Murtagh and Mrs. Crook shared a look of concern as the young Scot hoisted the breakfast tray and made his way up the stairs.  

Jamie hesitated on the landing, unsure which of the ornate doorways led to his lady’s bedchamber.  He was saved any further indecision when one opened and revealed a vision from his furtive imaginings.  Claire stood there in a pale dressing gown.  Her hair was unbound, billowing in endless tannin-dark ripples that called to mind the burns of his youthful roaming.  He wanted nothing more than to lose his hands in its depths, cradling her to his breast. With a start he realized he could do just that, if only he could convince his feet to move.

“Claire…” he pronounced in supplication.

“Jamie.”

It felt like a month since they’d seen each other last, and not a mere day.  Claire opened the door wider and beckoned him in.  Jamie walked forward as though caught in a trance.  Ignoring the luxurious appointments of the room, he lay the tray at the end of the bed and turned to find she’d closed the door behind him. His pulse beat violently in his throat.

“I’m so happy you came,” Claire said, her voice unusually wispy, as she clasped his chilled hand in her much smaller one.  “Your godfather drove the cart so slowly, I was worried you’d be gone before we even arrived.”

“With a beautiful lass fer company, who can blame him fer tarrying? Besides, I wouldna have left wi’out seein’ ye one more time.”

“Jamie, my aunt told me…”

Claire didn’t have a chance to finish her revelation before the sound of boots hastening up the wooden stairs was followed by the door to her room swinging open with a bang.  The two lovers startled apart at the sudden appearance of Henry Beauchamp, his usual kempt clothing messy and his eyes switching from relief at the sight of his daughter to displeasure when he noticed her company.

“My sincere gratitude, Mister Fraser, for my daughter’s safe return,” he said with barely veiled hostility.

“Twas nothing any decent man wouldna have done in my stead,” Jamie replied humbly, placing a subtle emphasis on the word decent.

“Would you join me in my study, so we can speak, man to man?”

“Aye.”

Jamie met Claire’s concerned golden gaze and attempted to assure her with a failed wink.  He followed her father back down the stairs and into a wood-paneled room with a view over Netherton’s expanse of property.

“When did you find Claire?” Henry began.

“Twa nights ago,” Jamie answered honestly, and without any further clarification.  Henry grunted as though his poorest opinion had been confirmed.

“You seem to care very much for my daughter,” he went on.

“I do.  I love her,” Jamie said plainly, unwilling to hide or be ashamed of the fact.

“Love,” the older man scoffed with a shift in tone towards open animosity.  “It’s a damn selfish kind of love.  To take a girl who’s been brought up surrounded by riches and stick her in a sod hut, to watch her grow old with hard work and childbearing.”

“I reckon that’d be Claire’s decision tae make,” Jamie’s voice rose with his temper.  “Ye arenna the only one who can make something o’ himself.  I have plans fer my own place.”

“Well, make your plans with someone else’s daughter.  I won’t hand her over to the first teuchter gold digger who arouses her fancy…”  The implications of just which fancies had been aroused were implied without being spoken.

“You bastard!” Jamie’s temper broke, unable to bear Claire’s reputation being disparaged, by her own father no less.  He took a broad step towards the shorter, slighter man, hands balling into fists.

“Steas, Seumas!”  Murtagh’s voice boomed across the room, freezing his godson in his tracks.

The Englishman stared at his one-time best friend as though he’d seen a ghost.  Murtagh, for his part, seemed unaffected by their reunion.

“Henry Beauchamp,” he intoned.  “I barely recognized ye wi’out yer musket.”

“Musket?”  Claire had descended the stairs at the sound of Jamie’s shouting.  “What does he mean, father?”

“All of you, get out of my house!” Henry shouted, his face a startling shade of red.

“Or ye’ll what?” Murtagh goaded him.  “Blow off the o’er one?”

“Murtagh, really,” Aunt Rosemary chided, having also come to the study when she heard raised voices.

“I only shot to warn you off,” Henry muttered.

Murtagh chuckled and patted the loose leg of his pants.  “I’d hate tae see what ye’re capable of when yer intentions are serious.”

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Claire pleaded.

“Go to your room!” her father begged to no avail.

“Oh, come along, Beauchamp.  Let’s be done with this secrecy once and for all!”  Rosemary said, turning towards her niece.

“Murtagh wanted to give your mother a wedding gift, a strand of Scotch pearls.  Your father came upon them and assumed the worst.  He flew into a rage, and Murtagh was shot.  Julia was furious.  She vowed she’d never forgive her husband and wanted a divorce…”

“Enough!” Henry cried, rushing from the room, unable to bear another word.

“In a way, she did leave him,” Rosemary continued philosophically. “When you were born.”

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Claire rushed to embrace Murtagh. After freezing a moment in shock, he held her gently in his arms and whispered something softly to her in Gaelic.

“There now, lass.   Dinna weep. Tis no’ the end o’ the story, tis only the beginning.   Ye an’ the lad can right the wrongs o’ yer elders.”

Rosemary cleared her throat.  “You two really should be going, before Henry comes back.”

Murtagh and Rosemary discretely left the young pair alone to say their goodbyes.

“Stay close tae yer aunt,” Jamie advised once Claire was in his arms.  “And dinna antagonize yer father o’ermuch.”

Claire leaned back in his embrace, fixing him with her golden gaze.

“Come back to me, James Fraser,” she leaned her forehead against his own.

“Aye,” he vowed.  “As soon as I can.”

[kissbentennyson]

Hi can i request a one shot of no watch ben x reader where they watch a scary movie because the reader likes them but ben is low-key terrified of them. In the end ben has trouble sleeping so the reader cuddles with him until he falls asleep

Thank you ☺️

*vibrates in slasher fan* Yesssssssssssssssssssssssss, also, normalize dudes being comforted.

Black Christmas

No watch! Ben x Reader | Reader's gender is never mentioned.

You were practically shaking with excitement, as a light Christmas carol played on grainy audio. This movie was old, 1974 as you had told him previously. You were so excited, and spent the whole day expressing that while trying to keep yourself from spoiling anything. Swirly white letters appear on screen, “Black Christmas' '. That relieves some of the anxiety in his gut.

“Is this… A Christmas movie?” He says, hesitantly. There's a light giggle as you snuggle into his side. “You could say that.” And that brought the anxiety right back up. His arm comes around you as the camera switches to first person, the point of view crawling up the side of the house. You chuckle a little bit as his arm tightens around you. “You gonna protect me from the killer?” His wide eyes shoot down at you against his chest, lips press flat slowly curve into a nervous smile. “Uh, yeah.” Is said with a just as nervous chortle, but you feel him swallow hard.

He was not very good at hiding his fear, never had been. It was cute though, that he actually thought that you didn’t know he was scared. Luckily enough for him, this movie had almost no jump scares. However, deep down you wanted to hear him scream at Jason Voorhees popping out of nowhere… maybe next movie night.

The movie fades into the more calm parts, the party, the call… and then onto Clair’s room. As she calls out for the sorority house cat, you can feel him tense up under you. “Claud… is that you puss?” You feel him take a deep breath under you, but you were too engrossed in your favorite movie. “No, it’s not. Get outta there…” He whispers. And then Billy pushes his way out of the closet, grabbing Clair by the neck with a plastic clothing cover. He jolts under you, and you can’t help but choke down your laughter.

“Not funny!” “Is so!”

-

“Wait, so he’s still in the house?” “Yep.” “But so is Jess.” “Yeah.” “The last shot- Does she die!?”

You shrug, picking up the empty snack containers. “Don’ know. It’s called an open ending for a reason.” Walking away to throw the trash in the can, you inadvertently leave him alone in the living room. Ben rushes to his feet, following after you. He clears his throat when he’s up behind you. “So, did Paul kill that cop- or was it Billy?” “Paul, Billy doesn't leave the house any time after he enters it.” The questions were an obvious distraction from the dark and quiet house. “So the little girl who was murdered, that wasn’t Billy?”

“No, she went missing the afternoon after Billy entered the house- You’ve been asking a lot of questions, Are you okay?” You look up at him, brows knitting with concern. Your boyfriend’s eyes widen as his cheeks tinting a warm pink color, an awkward smile spreading. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine!” Immediately you don’t believe it.

After cleaning up, you both retire to your bedroom. You were already tired and ready for bed, your boyfriend however… You hit the light, falling heavily onto the bed next to him. Normally, your boyfriend sleeping over would have raised hell itself. But, your family isn’t home, and won't be for a few days. The room was lit by the street light shining in the window and pale curtains, providing a comfortable dimness for you. Rolling on your side to face him, you can feel just how stiff he is.

“So, what did you think?” you ask, your boyfriend swallowing hard down a cotton dry throat. “Ben?” He clears his throat. “Uh, it was okay. I just don’t think it’s my thing-” A loud thump sounds from above you in the attic, Ben shooting up straight with a sudden gasp. You groan, but not at your boyfriend. “Great, the squirrels are back… I’ll text my mom in the morning to call the exterminator.” His eyes are wide and locked on the ceiling, like at any moment something would come down through it. He had always been a little skittish, but this was way worse.

You gently place a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look back at you. “It’s just some rodents- not a deranged asylum escapee. I promise.” his lips are pressed flat in a semi-neutral expression, trying to hide that he’s afraid. “Oh baby…” You whisper. “C’mere.” As you open your arms, he lays back down with his head by your chest. You scoop his head into your arms, curling up around him. Face burying into his hair. In that moment, you felt him relax in your arms. His curling around your waist.

“I’m sorry, I should have known better.” You say in a hushed voice, running your fingers through his hair. He sighs into the soft cloth of your shirt, letting you play with his hair. “I’m alright, I just…” He buries his face deeper, trailing off completely. Your cheek presses flat to his crown, a soft pout forming on your lips. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

Guilt flooded you like a clogged drain in a rainstorm, this was your fault. You had been so excited to share your interests with him that you hadn’t even stopped to think on how it might affect him- especially with him being naturally excitable. “I’m really sorry babe. I should have thought it out before I made you watch it with me.” You squeeze him lightly. He could have said no, and he wasn’t the biggest people pleaser- he just has a real hard time saying no to you.

“Next time we’ll both decide what to watch- or, we could just go on a Sumo Slammers marathon. Okay?”

You look down at your boyfriend, his face snuggled into your chest, and curled up in your arms. Petting his hair gently, you can feel him sleepily nod. You let out a light sigh, he was already falling asleep.