#i jus like putting things in the tags knowing that only a select few people will read them

[literallyjabroni]

This is what I mean when I need to crack my back

[mooniefics]

— insubordination

pairing : eren jaeger / fem reader

word count : 5.7k

tags : porn w plot, eventual smut, angst-ish

warnings : nfsw, non-con/extremely dub-con, impact play, descriptions of blood and injury, ooc eren being very mean

summary : you were nothing in his eyes, and he was nothing in yours. that's how it was meant to be, that's what commander hange had assumed when they assigned you such a simple role. but people are unpredictable, and sympathy for the wicked can make you do some pretty stupid things.

— originally posted 1 / 4 / 21 on ao3 —

this task was arguably your least favorite part of the day.

it was too quiet, eerily silent when you walked down the steps, and that one uneven brick always seemed to trip you up when you weren't looking out for it. balancing the dishes on the serving tray also wasn't the easiest, and it was all the more demeaning when he would be waiting for you by the bars, eyes as empty and uninterested as ever but still fixed on your every movement.

you were a soldier, not a waitress, and a part of you wondered why they didn't just make the marleyans do such a belittling task rather than force you to lower yourself down to such a level three times a day. but you knew it was because he'd be less hesitant to strangle the life out of any non-paradisian before he'd go after someone from the island, and you had enough self defense training to withstand any escape attempts he might make.

but eren jaeger seemed docile when he was in his cage, and that fact eased you just the slightest bit when you descended the stairs to his cell that day, toting a sandwich and a glass of water on the tray for him. you thankfully caught yourself before you tripped up on that uneven last step, breathing out a little sigh of relief about not having to deal with split food and broken dishes along with the humiliation of screwing up such an easy task. you didn't want to give him another reason to look down at you, another excuse to see you as even lesser than he already perceived you as.

he didn't seem to care much for a select few from his graduating class, and you seeing that you were trained with the 106th training corp, you hadn't had any sort of direct interactions with him until you were assigned to bring him his food for the day. at first, commander hange had insisted on doing it personally, but as the workload increased and the luxury of free time dwindled, the duty was passed onto you.

you had honestly been terrified when you first faced him, hoping that those bored yet sharp green eyes didn't catch the way your hand trembled when you fit the key into the lock, opening up the slot in the door that was just big enough to slide the tray and its contents across to him. he didn't say much, no hellos or thank yous exchanged, just a brief glance at your face and a muttered "you're new" as he took the tray to his bed and sat, silently eating his meal and sliding back the tray and empty dishes for you to take back up with you. and that was how it usually went, no fuss from either end, just a silence that was barely occupied by the scrapes of his utensils on the plate and the occasional clearing of his throat.

you expected another quiet interaction as you stepped across the old brick floor, keeping an impassive expression even after seeing that he was waiting for you at the bars, wearing nothing besides a pair of trousers that sat low on his hips. you ignored his uncharacteristically intent gaze, setting the tray down on the ground and fetching the ring of keys from your uniform, struggling to not let your eyes wander over him.

something felt different, an unusual feeling of trepidation that clung to you as you picked out the right key, unlocking the serving slot and slipping it back into your pocket. besides his evident lack of a shirt, there was nothing odd about today, nothing that should make you feel the agitation that was creeping up your spine. you swallowed down your nerves as you set the tray down like you always did, sliding it over onto his side of the bars. he always seemed much taller when he was up close like this, and even with his relaxed posture he still towered over you. his robust frame only served to make him more intimidating, muscles flexing beneath the pale skin littered with past scars. you didn't expect to feel the warmth of his fingers brushing over yours when he reached out to take the tray, suppressing the flinch that threatened to make you jump away from his contact, looking up to meet his steady gaze.

"thank you." he said, the slightest of smiles perking up at his lips at the sight of your surprised expression.

despite having the tray in his grasp, he didn't pull away from his place before you, drawing a few fingers down the side of your hand, not taking his eyes off of yours. you gave a gentle push of the tray, urging him to take it, not wanting to back down from what you assumed to be a test of your courage.

"hurry up and eat, jaeger. i don't have all day." you told him with much less authority than you would've hoped, but felt the smallest bit of pleasure from how he blinked at you, most likely not expecting you assertion.

"you know, you can call me eren."

that was the last thing he said before he let his gaze fall to the tray, warmth receding as he took his meal to his bed to eat. that was the most words you'd ever said to one another, arguably the most startling encounter you'd ever had as well. he seemed almost happy to see you, any show of emotion besides indifference was magnified by how rarely it appeared, but you reminded yourself that this was no reason to let your guard down. in fact, this was only more reason to keep a closer eye on him.

he could be planning something, you wouldn't put that kind of scheming past him, you'd heard the murmurs across your unit about how isolated his desires were from the greater good of humanity. he'd lashed out at his superiors as a cadet, he'd rebelled against the judgement of the former commander, fought the levi ackermann for selfish, narrow-minded reasons.

but, really, couldn't he escape whenever he wanted? freedom was just an injury away for him, he could shift into his titan form whenever he pleased and completely demolish the cell and everything above it, run off to see whatever corner of the world he wished to or murder whomever he had on his hit list. perhaps he was merely toying with you, the boredom of isolation driving him to tease the soldier who'd never once gotten the chance to see past the territory just outside the walls despite being a scout. you were surprised that he hadn't gone crazy from being locked up in a cell with just a bed, a sink, and a small barred window, not even a journal or a book for entertainment, although he was unhinged enough to have to be held here, so you assumed that it somehow balanced out in some odd way.

you told yourself to just take a deep breath as you stood by and waited for him to finish his meal, chalking up his behavior to him being an eccentric man with an endless amount of free time in his hands. he didn't speak any more when he passed back the tray and dishes, only offering another faint smile that didn't quite meet his eyes before returning to his bed, allowing you to latch the lock once more and make your quick exit up the stairs, thankfully out of his sight and not dropping anything when you tripped up on that uneven step.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"eat with me."

he didn't react to your incredulous look from behind the bars, steady stare staying trained on your face, fingers brushing just over your hand. it took you a moment to find your voice. "no."

"why not?" he replied easily, either entirely unaware of his aloofness or intentionally putting up the front of detached confusion.

"you're in there for a reason, eren." you said, giving a gentle push forward to the tray, "now eat."

it had been just over a week since your first conversation, he'd made no attempt to initiate another in the following days until just now. but he wasn't showing the hint of contentment he'd allowed to peek through on his features the last time, just the cool, uncaring demeanor that you'd become accustomed to as he delivered such a ridiculous request.

"i don't want to eat alone." he persisted, punctuating the sentence with his own nudge of the tray back to you, "what could i do? even if i tried to escape, the guards outside would catch me before i made it far." there were no guards outside, but you didn't tell him that. "you'll have wait on me to finish anyways."

you didn't reply back, not wanting to speak and risk him hearing your voice wobble, or let a nervous stutter slip. you found it strange how his displays of humanity were more startling than when he lacked them, the image of his more mechanical self that you'd grown used to, the one that you were alright with leaving in a cell alone for days, being shattered by the slight smiles, the naivety that came in him even thinking that you would comply with his desires.

"i could stand away from the door if it'd make you feel better, you don't even have to sit next to me. i just.." he turned away, lips turning down in an almost sheepish frown. "i just want to feel like someone is in the room with me."

you were almost afraid of this new emotion from him, having to force your brow to not knit into an expression of surprise and your mouth to not fall open at this incredibly unfamiliar territory. you felt that you were good at reading people, good enough to sniff out most false claims and facades that were put up by the people you were close with, but you weren't close with him, not in the least. all you knew of him was his name, his designation, his special abilities, and that he seemed to like soup the best, considering that he always finished the fastest on the days you brought it down for him. how convenient that you had a bowl for him today, alongside a small loaf of bread and the usual glass of water. but looking over his face, you couldn't help but feel your resolve crack just the slightest bit at the sight of him.

it made sense that he was getting lonely down here, the only people that were allowed to speak to him were you and the commander, and seeing that no one had gotten reamed for making an unauthorized visit, you were sure that the small group he was acquainted with weren't sneaking out to give him some company. and there seemed to be genuine emotion gleaming in his usually dull eyes, cheeks and ears flushed with a soft red that warmed his features, a kind of reaction that you found to be hard to fake. you didn't exactly lose sleep over his imprisonment, but you weren't a monster, you didn't discount the mental toll that this kind of solitude could have on a person.

"move away from the door."

the words slipped out of you before you had a chance to think about them anymore, slightly eased by the fact that he actually followed your order and stepped back as far as he could. you picked the ring of keys out of your pocket, finding the one that unlocked the door to his cell and slowly pressing it into the keyhole, letting out a small breath of alarm when you heard the inner mechanisms unlatch.

you couldn't help the way your eyes darted over to him, half expecting him to come  running to shove past you and make a mad dash out of the barracks. but he stayed right where he was, not moving even as you pushed open the door and stepped in, trying not to turn your back to him for too long as you eased it shut and tucked the keys back into your pocket, taking his tray and setting it at the foot of his bed like he always did before returning to your place at the door, giving a small nod to let him know he could move.

he was relaxed as ever, nearly smiling to himself as he took a seat, as opposed to you, who's back was stiffened into the straightest your posture had been in weeks, clenched hands that were becoming clammy with sweat. you knew exactly why you were getting so worked up over being on the other side of the bars that had giving you that sense of security now only giving you the sense of being caged in with someone who was really more of a stranger to you than anything. but he seemed more than pleased to have you in his vicinity, and the look on his face eased the chill rattling up your back, threatening to make you look more like a cornered animal more than a stoic soldier.

he was halfway through his soup when he reached for the bread, raising it to his lips to take a bite before he stopped, glancing over to you with a sudden intrigue. you watched as he broke it in two, not minding the crumbs that fell down onto his shirt and lap, holding the larger looking piece out to you. "here. it wouldn't be fair if you just had stand there and watch me enjoy my meal."

if your eyes widened in surprise, he didn't react to it, only adding a slight wave to his outstretched offering. you forced your foot forward, nervous to approach him but wanting to accept what felt like a sort of peace offering, a wordless assurance that he meant well. for the first time, his mouth drew back into a smile, a full, genuine, almost charming smile when you took the bread, hoping he didn't catch the way your fingers trembled as you stood there, unsure of whether to focus on the warmth of his gesture or taking a bite like he seemed to be expectantly waiting for you to do.

you didn't realize how dry your mouth was until you bit off a small chunk, chewing much longer than you usually did before you swallowed it down, not tasting anything but feeling your heart skip at the sight of his happiness. you retreated to your place at the door, finishing off the bread, watching him quickly wrap up his own meal and get everything back in order on the tray. he didn't usually do that either.

you felt an uncomfortable squeeze in your chest when he stood, gathering the tray in his hands and walking up to you with slow steps. he made sure to keep a good distance away from you, probably not wanting to give you any reason to be anymore afraid that you already were. you took the tray when he held it out to you, and he stayed holding onto it with you just a moment longer than he needed to, gleaming eyes wandering over your face in that little bit of time before he released his grasp, stepping back to where he originally had when you first entered and mimicking your small nod to tell you it was alright to go.

you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips, a shy, nervous little close-lipped smile that came with the blush darkening on your cheeks, nudging open the cell door with your foot and exiting without a problem. and as you fished the key ring out of your pocket and found the right one to slide into the keyhole, he took a seat at the foot of his bed, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, gazing up at you as you secured the lock back into place.

"thank you."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you found yourself going into his cell a lot more often than you probably should've.

the first couple days you stood at your place by the unlocked door, seeing how with each passing day you exchanged more and more words, the conversations becoming less stiff and hesitant. you only went in at lunch, since in the morning there were a lot more people milling about after breakfast, and in the evening the guards that stood outside by the stairs actually came to ensure he didn't get out during the night. the afternoon was the only time where everyone had already gone to their designated workstations, and besides the stray person or two that happened to pass by during that time, no one was around to catch your massive insubordination of orders.

you'd eventually began to sit at the foot of the bed, the tray putting a comfortable distance between the two of you as you chatted. he would offer you bites of his sandwich, or a piece of his bread like he did the first time you shared a meal, always giving you a little something despite your insistence that he kept it for himself, saying that "it would be unfair to starve his guest". speaking casually was surprisingly easy, passing stories of your training days and your initial struggles with omni-directional movement gear back and forth, letting him tell you about his time across the ocean and appreciating how intently he listened to you lamenting about the severe lack of exposure you had to the world outside the walls.

you couldn't admit it to anyone else, but you had begun to grow fond of him. the initial expression of cool apathy completely melted away when you were with him, the features of his face which you had initially found stern becoming somewhat handsome when he was giving those little smiles, a breath of a chuckle when you said something he found funny, or the focused expression he would take on when he nodded along to the stories from your childhood you had to offer. perhaps under different circumstances, you might've even wanted to see if things could go further than easy banter between two friends, biting your tongue when you thought about slipping in something about how he could be your guide when you could finally go out and see the world.

there was no way they would keep him in here forever, the effort to cover new ground and widen the army's frontiers was going swimmingly from the looks of it, so maybe there'd be a day in the future where you could walk about with him, away from the brick of his cell and without the bars separating you. that thought had been especially nice to think about as you sat on your calves across from him on the bed, your half of today's bread nearly gone as you listened to him talk about what he would get up to when he was a child, running around his hometown by himself and trying to sneak into taverns to catch a peek at the barmaidens.

"you know, there was this one particular girl that i remember being head over heels for," he mused, pausing to lick the bit of soup that had swiped across his lips from his last spoonful, "one time she came to my home for my father to check out her arm, said she'd gotten grabbed by one of the more unsavory characters that hung around those bars. i was so angry i almost went out looking for him myself."

you giggled a bit at the mental image, a wide-eyed little boy with the big dream of saving his childhood crush from the evil world. "isn't that sweet?" you quipped with a smile, quickly eating the last bite of bread in your hand and dusting off the crumbs onto the floor, "what'd she look like? she had to be beautiful to catch your eye." you tried not to let your disappointment in letting that slip show as you waited for his reply, mentally noting to have a bit more verbal control the next time.

"well, she actually kind of looked like you."

you felt your face pink at that, trying not to show your embarrassment as you cleared your throat. "r-really?" that was all you could manage, only feeling even more flustered by the slight grin he gave.

"really. you're obviously not identical, but there are a couple of things that remind me of her when i look at you." he shifted his position a bit, the space between you narrowing as he leaned over the tray to get a better look at your face. "your eyes look like hers, a different color, but the same shape. and you have the same freckle right here."

he pointed to the place on your face, finger inches away from you but still the closest you'd ever been to touching aside from the light brushes of your hands when you passed the tray to one another. "and now that i'm really looking, you both kind of have the same hair."

he was much closer than before, both of your knees at either end of the tray because of how it'd been pushed, realizing that you yourself had been unconsciously leaning forward. the warmth of his hand brushing across your cheek was a bit startling but definitely not unwelcome, thumb catching a stray lock of hair to tuck behind your ear.

"yeah.. you do." he murmured quietly, but you were more than close enough to hear it, able to pick out the brighter flecks in his brilliantly green irises, feeling his soft exhales fanning across your lips.

you couldn't believe you had let this happen, let yourself end up like this with the man you were supposed to just bring food to and guard from a distance, but at the same time you couldn't pull away, couldn't force yourself to part from the now low-lidded eyes gazing at you with such an unreadable depth, just barely obstructed by the hair that had slipped out of the messy style he had it drawn up in today, full lips parted and just a breath away from pressing onto your own. and so you let your eyes fall shut, feeling his hand slip further into your hair, fingers working deeper into it like they were meant to be there. but instead of a kiss, you felt his grasp in your hair suddenly tighten, barely able to let out a small gasp of pain before he drew your head to the side and smashed it into the brick wall next to you.

pain exploded across your skull, white spots blotting out your vision when your eyes flew open, unable to hold yourself up when he threw you down on the bed, already feeling the warmth of blood seeping out of the broken skin. you could faintly hear the clatter of metal and the smash of porcelain on the floor when he kicked the tray to the ground through the ringing in your ears. your first attempt to speak came out as almost a wheeze, mouth numb with shock as you tried to force your leadened limbs to move, writhing uselessly as he began to wrestle off the belt of your jacket, flipping you onto your stomach as soon as it came undone and ripping the jacket off of you with one strong pull to the collar.

"hel—help !" you wailed almost incoherently into the empty hall, knowing for a fact that no one was there but hoping there was somebody, anybody that could possibly be wandering past the building outside would come to save you.

all your combat experience meant nothing now that he had you sprawled out under him, straddling you as he tied your hands behind your back with your own belt, laughing coldly at every half-hearted squirm and small sob that left you. the wound on your head sent an unbearable ache through your entire body, beginning at your temple and searing through every nerve, each rough jostle from the body on top of you only adding to the pain.

"thank you for being such a kind guard," he drawled, audibly shaking your jacket to figure out which pocket the keys were in, "you really are great company, and such a sight for sore eyes."

your spotty vision was only further obscured by the tears that were now dripping onto the sheets. "p-please, d-don't hurt me..!" you cried, seeing him toss the jacket down on the floor, most likely having pocketed the keys for himself. he hauled your hips up by the waistline of your trousers, seeming to take joy in the way you whimpered at the strain you felt in your arms.

"do you really think you're in the place to make demands?" his voice was dripping with arrogance, breath hot on the back of your neck as he spoke into your ear, "the one who was stupid enough to fall for such a simple trick? the way i see it, it's almost like you were asking for this to happen."

you furiously shook your head at that, ignoring the way each thrash sent an ache echoing through your skull, teeth clenched in pain as you tried to force the words out. "n-no.. please, n-n-no—"

he didn't care much for your frantic tears or stammered pleas, already tugging your pants and underwear down around your trembling legs. "but you're worth a few moments of my time, all stupidity set aside. you really do look like that lovely barmaiden from my hometown." he paused to grab at the soft flesh of your exposed thighs, spreading you open as far as your position allowed it to, revealing the wetness of your involuntary excitement. "and look at that, already all nice and wet, just for me."

another pained sound escaped when he firmly grabbed your hair again, keeping the side of your face pressed into the bed, barely allowing you to hear him undo the zip of his pants and the ruffle of him pushing them down. he thrust into you without warning, drawing a hoarse whine from the burn of the sudden intrusion, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted to try and steady your strained, uneven breaths.

"relax, relax." he demanded, nearly growling as the heel of his palm pressing down on the back of your neck.

it wasn't as if this was your first time, but the people that you'd been with before we're always gentle with you, patient, asking infrequent but sincere "are you ok"s and "you're ok, right"s that quelled any unease about being in such a vulnerable position. but the hazy calm you'd had begun to associate with sex was completely absent in this moment, the empty space instead filled with the hiccuped sobs that refused to stay down in your chest, the throb of your bleeding scalp that was only worsened by his large hand grasping a fistful of your hair, beginning to clump with sticky red blood that was just starting to soak into the white sheets of the bed. you couldn't understand why that fear that was permeating through you, the peril that gripped your racing heart so relentlessly, the thought of not knowing whether you could assure your survival or not was only making you more and more excited for him.

he had taken up an unforgiving pace, driving small, broken moans from your lips, tense muscles gradually relaxing to accommodate all of him. it was wrong, you should've been fighting right now, keeping up your screams for help, anything to prove to yourself that you wanted to escape, but you found that it felt so terrifyingly good to give up under him.

"eren.." you barely managed to enunciate his name before your words devolved into more breathless whines, pins and needles pricking at your now numbing fingers that were losing circulation from your bindings.

"fucking pathetic," he spat, free hand moving to abuse your clit with rough, uncoordinated rubs, "you're just fucking begging for it, aren't you?"

he punctuated each abrasive word with a deeper thrust into you, dragging you over the edge before you even had the chance to realize how close you were to cumming. you cried out at the heat tearing through every inch of your sore flesh, nails digging into your palms as you slumped back against him, saliva dripping out of your open mouth and onto the bed.

the emptiness of him pulling out of you made you whimper, more strained sounds of protest escaping your throat as he flipped you onto your back, struggling to find a bearable position with the way your hands pressed uncomfortably into your spine. for the first time you were able to see the wild look in his eyes, his lips drawn back into more of a snarl that bared his teeth rather than a smile, even more of his long, dark hair having fallen from his hair tie. you could hardly take in the finer details of his image, the symptoms of the concussion you likely had already settling in around the edges of your vision, remaining sight starting to flicker out into darkness.

"wake up. hey." the sight of his hand rearing back and the sharp sting of its impact on your cheek were disconnected but registered all the same, forcing a pained groan out of you as you blinked up at him, trying desperately to dispel the black specks pulsing across your vision as you recovered from the jerk of your head being knocked to the side.

you could already feel the redness forming on the skin of your face, the rough hands that had just started tugging at your shirt impatiently tearing it halfway open, sending buttons flying off in every direction as he grinned down at you.

"you really threw a wrench into this whole plan of mine." he forced down a few chuckles, wiping some of your blood on his fingers off on your ruined shirt, "i should be making my way to the east exit right now, but all i can think right about it seeing that pretty fucking face you're gonna make when i make you cum again."

his fingers dug into the pliant flesh of your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he pushed himself right back into you, clearly relishing in the way you whimpered out baseless pleas and curses. your legs squeezed around him instinctually, hips bucking up to meet his despite the small whisper in the back of your mind still begging for you to maintain a shred of dignity and push him away.

he kissed messily at the base of your neck, barely able to maintain the mimicry of intimacy for more than a few seconds before he was biting at the exposed skin, sometimes only just brushing his teeth over it but sometimes hard enough to print them into the bruising flesh. you could barely hold your eyes open enough to see the cracked ceiling above you, feeling the heat of his breaths over your shoulder and the audible clap of his skin meeting yours with every rough thrust. you chose to focus on the familiar pressure welling deep in your stomach, letting your eyes roll back into your head and your shaking legs squeeze tighter around him, only acknowledging his teeth breaking your skin with a whine in favor of just letting yourself hit that impossibly high peak once again.

he growled out a low string of curses into your neck, movements becoming less coordinated and even rougher as you came around him for his second time, not having enough lucidity to be ashamed of how easily release came. he continued even as your legs became heavy in his grasp, writhing and crying out dissipating into the occasional twitch, barely able to register the end of the entire exchange until you felt the liquid heat spilling into you. it only halfway made up for the lack of his cock in you as he pulled away, not bothering to try and bring you back to consciousness while he shoved himself back into his pants.

you roused on your own just a few moments later, gasping in quick little breaths and rolling yourself onto your side so you didn't crush your numb hands and wrists anymore than you already had, blinking away the blur of tears and the spottiness of passing out as you craned your neck to look up at him, wincing when you drew an injured area of skin taut. you just caught him tugging on your jacket, which had always fitted you loosely and was now fitting him snugly, his face flushed but having returned to his usual cool, impassive demeanor. but when he turned to look down at you, you could see a flicker of pride cross his features, the slightest smirk playing on his lips.

he said nothing as he walked right out of his cell, shutting the metal door and locking it behind him, the sound of his footfalls growing fainter down the hall and disappearing entirely as he ascended the steps. you would guess that it took around an hour for someone to come down and find you. by then, the slow stream of blood had slowed and clotted, and the belt around your wrists had loosened enough to allow adequate blood flow but still too tight for you to wriggle out of in your weakened state. you were sure that you looked pretty worse for wear; half naked, covered in injuries of varying severity, messy with a mix of blood, spit, tears, and cum.

but instead of thanking your lucky stars that you didn't have to spend the whole night trapped down there, you simply let your heavy eyes fall back shut as the soldier, a boy your age that you didn't know well but had gone out on a few mission with, promised to come back with a spare key and take you to the infirmary before running out in a panic. you didn't know whether you wanted eren jaeger to successfully make it out or be apprehended and sent right back here after they'd cleaned you up. would they interrogate him about how he escaped? would he tell them about you and the role you played in it?

after all was said and done, the only thing you were entirely sure about was that you'd probably never be allowed to go near him or participate in any assignments involving him ever again. and even after everything, a part of you just didn't want to believe that this was the end for the two of you.

[ahockeywrites]

Chapter 1 - St Louis, Missouri

“And, I think that’s the last of it,” Addison exclaimed as she cut the parcel tape. She was moving from her hometown St Louis to Edmonton, Alberta to start her graduate job as an engineer. It wasn’t something she thought she would be doing with her physics degree as she had aimed to go into nuclear physics but MIT, her alma mater, was offering jobs at specific companies for selected students and she happened to be one of them. The selection wasn’t particularly broad but she always took certainty over ambiguity.

Addison Silver had grown up in St Louis to a hockey obsessed father and mother. Hockey obsessed probably wasn’t the right thing to say when her father was on the coaching staff of the St Louis Blues and her mother worked as a lawyer for the team, but it did mean she had a lot of contact with hockey players.

Her first introduction to the Tkachuk family was when Keith was traded to St Louis and they moved in a few doors down the road. She had just started kindergarten and was in the phase of introducing herself to everyone she could see, which included Matthew and Brady, who’s short legs struggled to catch the two older children.

As Addison was an only child, one of her few outlets of seeing other children was at kindergarten and the children of players. The latter were always her favourite as it was almost guaranteed that they shared the love of hockey that ran blood deep within her family.

Her first time on the ice, she was 5. Her dad didn’t want her to accidently hurt herself on the ice as she was prone to falling over almost anything. It was a family skate and as her dad tied up her skates, she saw a curly headed boy skating laps at speeds she wished she could. Taking her father’s hand, she tentatively walked on the blades to the ice. “Now, Addie, remember, bend your knees and don’t look down,” her father told her with a smile. She hesitantly nodded as a response. She was scared, but anything the boys could do, she could at least try to emulate.

Slowly, but surely, she gained confidence quickly on the ice and within 15 minutes she joined her curly headed friend skating laps around the rink. However, there was one thing her dad had forgotten to teach her. How to stop. It was a split second decision, crash into the boards or crash into Matthew. She chose to crash into Matthew. Luckily, she was small so didn’t cause him too much harm. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Maybe I should learn to stop.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, offering her his hand, “we all have to learn at some point.” He smiled softly at her and helped Addison up.

As much as Addison loved hockey, it took her all of 30 seconds to realise she loved watching it and not playing it. Even with a helmet and padding, the boys in the group knew that they would be able to annoy the only girl in the group by pelting pucks at her. There was only one boy who didn’t, he even told them to stop. Matthew Tkachuk. He caught her green eyes with his baby blue ones and mouthed sorry. He knew it wouldn’t be enough, but he hoped it was something.

After this, Addison pulled away from hockey. Even at a young age, she knew she wanted to focus on school and her parents supported her. She excelled at mathematics and was often called to the Tkachuk household to help Matthew with the work he had to finish before practice. She got on well with the Tkachuk’s, even considering them a second family as she spent lots of time with them. When the trading deadline was close and practice ran late, Chantal was always there to pick her up from school along with Matthew and Brady. She became the big sister to Taryn and their relationship formed quickly once she could talk.

When Matthew moved to the USNTDP, Addison was sad, but it reminded her that she needed to focus on school as he was doing what he loved, she needed to do what she loved. She began to withdraw from all social events, with the exception of ones she was made to attend. She spent the majority of her time focussing on her AP classes which included mathematics and physics. Her sights were set on applying to both CalTech and MIT to major in physics. Her parents supported her every step of the way, knowing she would need it.

Her parents also noticed the shift whenever the Tkachuk’s came over for dinner, she would no longer spend as much time chatting to Brady and Taryn. This got worse when Matthew was home. It was a struggle to get Addison out of her room, she was always studying or reading around the subject of physics. Every birthday and Christmas she would compile a list of the newest books relating to applied mathematics.

Her seventeenth birthday came around faster than she could have ever imagined. She had opened all of the gifts aside from one. It was wrapped clumsily and in wrapping paper she had never seen before. The note attached read:

Dear Addie, I know I’m in Ontario right now, but I saw this and thought you’d like it. Enjoy Matthew x

It was small but simple. Particle Physics: A Very Short Introduction. Matthew knew that the content of this book was looked at briefly covered in Addison’s AP Physics classes but was her area of interest. “Who’s it from,” her mother asked, just as curious as Addison was.

“Matt, Matt Tkachuk,” she replied. Her mother looked slightly confused knowing that the two didn’t particularly speak anymore. “It must have been in the pile Chantal brought over yesterday,” Addison noted.

If it was even possible, Addison put more time and effort into her studies knowing that to go to her dream college she needed to. She sent herself into burnouts more often than she would admit, even to herself and wished she had someone around to help her. One night it got too much, her mother was still in the office and her dad was on a flyaway trip with the team. She called Matthew.

He picked up quickly, knowing that Addison only called when it was incredibly important. When she started talking, he knew something was wrong with her. She was speaking in broken sentences, kept sniffling and as soon as he tried to switch to Facetime, she declined. They weren’t as close as he may have wanted them to be, but usually she never cared what she looked like. It was one line that sent him into a frenzy and was looking at buying plane tickets back to St Louis. “Matty,” she whispered, “I’m scared. What if I’m not good enough for anywhere, what if I have to do nothing for the rest of my life. What if I’m never good enough for my parents?” The tears she was trying to hide began to flow faster than ever before.

“Addie, you are the smartest person I know, you could never disappoint your parents. You mean the world to them, no matter what. You will go to college, you will study exactly what you want and you will make everyone who knows you proud,” he said firmly. Addison was one of the most stubborn people he knew and if he didn’t make his point with enough power, she would pick holes. It was what initially drew him to her. The way she spoke to everyone with the same attitude, it didn’t matter if it was him, her mother or someone she had never met. Addison always spoke with authority and intelligence, even if she was clueless in the subject.

“Thanks Matt,” she said through tears. “I jus-just needed someone to talk some sense into my brain. You’re the best.”

“Addie, you can text me whenever. I know we’re not super close or anything, but your family means a lot to my family,” he explained, reassuring her that he wasn’t going anywhere. The call lasted until Addie’s sniffling had subsided and all Matthew could hear were the gentle snores from the other end of the line.

Addison graduated high school top of her class and had secured a place at MIT to major in physics. That entire summer was spent sneaking alcohol from their parent’s coolers into parties. Matthew had also returned and spent the summer attached at the hip to Addison. They did everything together, if one of them wanted ice cream, the other had to tag along. If one wanted to go and watch a movie in the basement, the other would be getting the snacks ready.

The feelings Matthew had felt before were nothing compared to the ones he had now. He looked over to see Addie’s long, brunette hair draped over her shoulders and noticed how the light sweeping of eye shadow made her eyes sparkle just the right amount. He had the perfect girl sitting next to him but he had no idea how to make the right move.

Addison looked over at Matthew, his curls still not under control. She thought, just maybe, they could end this summer as more than just friends. “Hey Matt,” she started, “is it bad that I’m 18 and haven’t kissed anyone yet?” His eyes widened, not expecting her to say that.

“No, it’s not bad at all,” he started, trying to find the right words, “if you’re waiting for the right person, it’s never bad.”

“Would you be my first kiss?” she blurted out, clearly her mouth was working faster than her brain. Yes she thought Matthew was attractive, but there was no way in hell she wanted to risk a friendship that was still in its infancy.

“I-I,” the curly headed boy stuttered. How on earth was he meant to answer that?

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay,” Addison began to ramble, “I just want it out of the way before I move to MIT. Like, what if I find someone really nice…”

“Addie, I’m gonna stop you there. You’re blabbering on,” he said with a small laugh. “But, if you want to get it out of the way before college, we can.” Addison audibly sighed with relief when she heard his statement. “Wanna go and watch a movie at mine?” Matthew knew he needed to change the subject, his feelings for her were becoming too real and he couldn’t admit to them just yet.

“Uh, yeah?” Addie reluctantly agreed, this did not help the butterflies she felt in her stomach. He didn’t outright say no, so she was hoping he felt something for her too.

They arrived back at the Tkachuk house and after greeting the other members of the family went down to the basement. Addison had already turned the television on and had Netflix up whilst Matthew had gone through their box of snacks and had found a bag of popcorn and a bag of skittles for them to share.

By the time the movie had started, Addison was curled into Matthew’s side with the snacks in her lap. “Addie, do you, you know,” Matthew started, trying to see if she was ready. She nodded slowly and leaned in to him. Their lips softly touched and once Addison had her first taste, she didn’t want to stop. The movie was long forgotten about and all the two wanted was to be in each other’s presence.

The sound of someone walking down the stairs to the basement caused them to jump apart. “Hey Addie, your parents want you back home for dinner,” they heard Taryn say.

“Okay, gimme a sec,” Addison squeaked, trying to hide the blush on her face. “Thanks for that,” she said, hoping the awkwardness she felt wasn’t reciprocated. “But, as Taryn said, dinner’s ready. I’ll text you?”

“Yeah Addie, I’ll see you soon,” Matthew replied. Addison quickly ran up the stairs and the few houses down to where she lived. Matthew sighed and ran his hands through his curls a few times to bring himself back down to planet Earth. He, Matthew Tkachuk, had just kissed a girl he had been harbouring feelings for since he was 10 years old, because she asked him.

As Addison walked into her house, she suddenly felt like a huge weight had fallen onto her shoulders. She had just kissed the boy that she had started gaining feelings for. Her parents noticed that something was wrong as she wasn’t eating as much of her dinner as usual. “Addie, are you okay?” her mother asked, hoping she would discuss what was on her mind.

“Yeah,” Addison sighed, not wanting to talk about what happened too much. “Just did a stupid thing at Matt’s and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“What did you do dear?” her mother knew not to probe too far, she had seen the looks the two had shared and had hoped that something would happen over the summer.

“We kissed,” she groaned. “Not once, but for a good half an hour, and I really like him and I don’t know what to do. Like, there’s no way he feels the same way, so I don’t know why it happened.”

“Addie, why do you think he doesn’t feel the same way? He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky, why would he look at you like that if he didn’t like you?” her mother replied.

“I can’t do this with him,” Addison complained, “I don’t want to be in a relationship with a hockey player, especially one who acts as he does on the ice. If he contacts you to talk to me, tell him to get lost.” With that, she got up from the dinner table and went to her room.

Addison’s room became her place of refuge before she moved to Cambridge. She only left the room to eat and use the bathroom. Her parents tried to help her, but she was unable to understand their concern because as she saw it she was focusing her life on moving to MIT and completing all of her pre work for her course. And that wasn’t a small amount of work, every single course had around 3 books that needed to be read and 2 tutorials that she needed to do. She made sure that everything had been done well in advance and even began to look at the content that would be taught during the first semester.

Her time at MIT was filled with a lot of time in the library. Addison enjoyed making friends but they all had the same attitude as her, they were there to study for their degree and helped each other when they needed it. Graduation was a fun day, she shared a dorm with her best friend Simone and the two of them spent the day getting ready together. Their families had become good friends and had planned a celebratory lunch.

The two families watched as their girls walked along the stage to collect their degrees and couldn’t be more proud. The girls were headed off to Edmonton together to be working for the same company and had already found an apartment to be sharing. Addison and Simone were so excited for moving to Canada and it was a common talking point with their academic advisors. They had made sure that all of the logistical issues were resolved and they knew the team members they would be working with. The advisors made sure that everything was in place well before the move occurred.

Ever since that summer in St Louis, Matthew and Addison had not even said as much as a hello at an event both of their families had attended. They purposefully avoided each other not wanting to reminisce over that day. No one else knew what had happened aside from Addison’s parents and Simone. Simone knew about Matthew, but didn’t know that they were moving to the same province where he lived too. Addison had made sure to keep his last name out of the discussions, not to keep him safe but to keep herself safe.

She wanted to try and live a normal life and not have everyone using her to try and meet an NHL player. She wanted to gain her accolades from being her own person and not from people with recognisable names. That’s what she hoped she would get out of moving to Edmonton.

//next

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Closing Time

Inverted Character Intros 1/7: Chase

People who asked me to tag them: @evyptids @awkward-bullshit @watermelonsinmyattic @asunachinadoll @a-humble-narcissus

It was a bar in the rough part of town. That meant it was dimly-lit, had dirty glasses, played bad country music twenty four seven, and had pool tables that were usually surrounded by tough-looking men. The whole place was sketchy, and normally that was enough to warn off everyone but the regulars, who were the type of people who had switchblades up their sleeves and in their boots.

But, at approximately ten thirty at night, a strange man had walked in, plunked down at the bar, and ordered a whiskey. Not one to deny a customer, the bartender had obliged. The regulars, however, had given the new guy the side-eye. He looked harmless: on the thin side, brown hair tucked under a gray-and-red snap-back cap, sad blue eyes. He didn’t do anything but sit and drink. Eventually, the regulars let him be.

Hours passed. People drifted off into the darkness of night. The stranger never left from his spot at the bar. The bartender grew steadily annoyed with him, not only because he was steadily draining his supply of whiskey without any compensation, but also because the other customers were starting to get annoyed. And these customers were not the type of people you wanted to annoy, because then they tended to toss the annoyances through the bartender’s barely-repaired window.

It reached two o’clock. The bartender approached the stranger and said, “It’s closing time, son.”

The stranger looked up from his half-drained glass of whiskey. “Yer not tellin’ that to those guys, over-over there.” He waved vaguely towards a group of five men, sitting at a table in the corner. They were the only other customers.

The bartender glanced over. “They know we’re closing. But I’m not too sure you do.” In truth, the bartender would rather not talk to that group. They were here on a certain business, and he’d learned through the years that it would be better if he just left the room and let them get to it.

“Alrigh’, I’m goin’.” The stranger stood up, a bit wobbly but not as much as he should have been, considering the amount of alcohol he’d drained that night.

“Not so fast,” the bartender interrupted. “How’re you gonna pay for all of this drink?”

The stranger froze. “Pay?”

“Yes,” the bartender said, irritated. “Whiskey isn’t free, you know.”

“I...I didn’...you could pu’ it on a...on a tab, can’t ya?”

“We don’t do tabs here. If you don’t have cash, we can take credit as well.”

“Credi’ cards? In this economy?” The stranger leaned forward. “You think that a-a person like me, drowning in my studen’ loans, would have a credi’ c-card?”

“Well, do you have cash then?” The bartender snapped.

“I loved her, y’know...” The change of subject was accompanied by the stranger slamming the palms of his hands on the surface of the bar. “Damn, I did. I dropped i’all for her, for the kid we werr gonna have...An’ we werr hap-happy for a long time...and then that bitch decided she didn’ wanna deal with my issues anymore, an’ I told her wha' would happen, oh I warned her, an’ she didn’t lis’en, and she left!” The stranger shook his head, and growled, “Well, I hope she enjoyed what she got, enjoyed wha’ vidyo I sen’ her, because then she’ll come righ’ back, an’ she’ll realize I still want her back an’ that it’s-it’s where werr s’posed to be.”

The bartender took a step back, a little disturbed. The odd mixture of anger and longing in the stranger’s voice was simply...unnerving to listen to. “Son, you still need to pay.”

“Wha’? No, no, no I jus...I jus’ told you why I couldn’! I’m inna bad place righ’ now, please, jus’ take a li’ll sympathy. I can pay ya back later...please?” The shift in his tone was subtle, but noticeable. The wide eyes, the tremble as he talked...he was clearly trying to appeal to emotion.

Too bad this bartender had met people like him before. Too many, in fact. “Son,” the bartender said in a stern tone. “You have three choices: pay up right now, come in the back to wash dishes, or let me call the police.”

The stranger’s eyes widened, like he couldn’t believe he’d failed. Then he leaned back. His hand went to his side. “Alrigh’...I choose the fourth one.” He raised his hand again, and pointed the thing he held at the bartender.

Hastily, the bartender put his hands up. “S-sir, put down the gun. I’ll drop the cost, promise.”

“Pu’ down the gun?” The stranger thought about it. “Nah.”

BANG!

The five men in the corner all stood up in unison. They didn’t run over to the bar, instead they walked slowly, confidently, on a V formation. The leader looked down at the stranger, leveling him with a menacing stare. “You just cost us a safe haven to meet,” he said in a low voice. “You’re gonna have to come with us.”

The stranger shook his head. “No, I don’...don’ think so.”

“We’d rather not make any more stains on the floor, if you mind,” the leader growled. Behind him, the other four shifted, reaching into pockets and below jackets.

The stranger laughed. “Dude, y’think I care abou’ where I die? Nah. I’ll be goin’ downstairs any way ya slice it.”

“Very well.” The five men advanced. The stranger raised his gun.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

A few moments later, Chase sat on the sidewalk outside the bar. Sometimes he wondered how Jackie had any trouble with these guys. Only two of them had been carrying guns. He’d been quick, even in his current, ah, state of mind. Tolerance came with advantages. And then, with the remaining three...well, there was a reason they said to never bring a knife to a gun fight.

Chase took his phone out of his pocket, opened up his contact list, and selected a single name. He dialed the number. On the other side of the line, the phone rang, and rang, and went to voicemail. Chase rolled his eyes. He was probably asleep, but whatever. He could wake up for this. It took three more attempted calls before somebody finally picked up. “Hey, Jack?” Chase said. He began playing up his slur. “C'n you...c’n you come pick me up? ’M at 342 Whittenburg...yeah, I was, why does’t matter?...really? you’d le' me walk home, on my...on my own? I dun rem’ber the way...nah, dun haf cash...thanks, dude, yer the-the best. ‘M outside, dun need to go in.” With a click, he hung up.

This had been a good night.

You know those people who try to use their mental illness as an excuse to act shitty? Yeah...that’s Inverted!Chase. Just like canon Chase, he has depression and suicidal tendencies, but unlike canon Chase, he knows that saying such things garner sympathy from others. He can get away with a lot just by using that as an excuse, which, you know, you really shouldn’t do.

Inverted!Chase has absolutely no regard for his life or anyone else’s, so he has nothing to lose, making him dangerous. He’s often jealous of other people who have it “better” than him, whether that’s true or not. Sometimes that leads to excessive use of his gun. Sometimes he projects his death wish onto others, and that also leads to excessive gun use. Either way, murder is a terrible coping mechanism.The only people who are “immune” to this are the other Inverted!boys, who he actually likes. He’s still not over Stacy, and really want to get her back. Usually his methods of doing so involve trying to guilt her, but it’s entirely possible he’ll go to more extreme methods in the future.

[hannahindie]

The Wedding Singer - Track 6

“Tainted Love”

Characters: Dean, Reader, Jo (brief), Chuck (brief), a somewhat uncomfortable bride and groom

Word Count: 2,003 (including lyrics)

Series Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Language, Mentions of Infidelity, Alcohol

A/N: This is the sixth chapter of an AU SPN Series co-written by myself and @pinknerdpanda entitled The Wedding Singer and is inspired by the movie. We have been working on this for the last few months and are very excited to share it with you. The series tag list is open. If you would like to be added, please send one of us an ask. I made the 80s inspired aesthetic and the series was Masterbeta’d by @wheresthekillswitch.

As usual, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please let me know!

Track List:

Track 1: “You Spin Me Round (Like A Record) by: @pinknerdpanda

Track 2: “White Wedding”  @hannahindie

Track 3: “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?”by: @pinknerdpanda

Track 4: “Every Little Thing She Does is Magic”@hannahindie

Track 5: “Love Stinks”@pinknerdpanda​

Track 6: “Tainted Love”

Sometimes I feel I've got to Run away I've got to Get away from the pain that you drive into the heart of me The love we share Seems to go nowhere And I've lost my light For I toss and turn I can't sleep at night

Once I ran to you (I ran) Now I'll run from you This tainted love you've given I give you all a boy could give you Take my tears and that's not nearly all Oh tainted love Tainted love

Every single person at the reception was watching Dean in shock as he slurred his way through “Tainted Love”. Even the band had quit playing, although Dean had apparently decided he didn’t need a band to sing this particular song. He stopped after the second verse and took a swig out of the beer bottle he had clutched loosely in one hand, then gripped the mic stand tightly with the other. His bloodshot eyes scanned the room, squinting against the stage lights, as if looking for someone.

His eyes widened as he spotted the newly married couple, “There you are! S’wonderin’ where ya got off to. Anyway, lemme just say a few words.” Chuck was quietly shaking his head at Dean, willing him to stop talking, but Dean pulled the mic off the stand, stumbled to the edge of the stage, and pointed at them with the hand still holding the beer bottle. “You got married today! Ain’t that just a dream come true? I was going to live that dream week before last, but I guess it's not always meant to be. It certainly wasn't for me, because I was engaged to a self centered, raging bitch, but Jeff, looks like you're a lucky guy. At least Sheila...Sheila right? Sheila showed up! That's the first half of the fuckin’ battle and she nailed it!”

The room was dead silent as Dean took another swig of beer. Chuck was nervously looking around the crowd for Jo, afraid to interrupt but knowing someone probably should. Before he could make a move, Dean continued, “Listen, folks, these two married because they loved...well, love...each other. And that's just….it's a beautiful thing.” He groaned as he flopped himself down on the edge of the stage, his legs dangling over the side, “But see, ya need to unner...understand somethin’. It's only beautiful for s’long. Sure, sure, it's great now. Look at ‘em, all happy and shit,” he waved vaguely in their direction, “but it'll just...jus’ fizzle out. And there won't be a warning either Jared...Jeff. She’ll jus’ get tired of ya. S’dont bother sacrificing your career or something you love for her, ‘cause eventually that won't even be enough.”

Chuck finally caught Jo’s attention, who hurried back into the kitchen and grabbed Y/N by the arm, “You need to get him off that stage right now!”

Y/N looked up from the cookies she was putting the finishing touches on, confused, “What? What's going on?”

“Dean is shit faced drunk and he's decided to give them a nice little reception speech. Only it's terrible and everyone is mortified, but no one knows what to do. You need to go out there and get him outside or something.”

Y/N tossed the icing bag down and wiped her hands off on her apron, “Why do I need to do it? Dean and I barely know each other!”

Jo rolled her eyes, “You handled it well last time. Sam told me how you got him home. Just...handle it. Please?” Jo looked at her with begging eyes and Y/N sighed.

“Fine, but...you owe me.” Y/N took her apron off and hung it up, then hurried into the reception hall in time to hear Dean finish up his ‘speech’.

“Anyway, the moral of this story is: love stinks. Good fuckin’ luck!” He dropped the mic onto the stage and high pitched feedback echoed through the room. He slid clumsily off the stage and stumbled towards the kitchen, but Y/N intercepted him before he got too far.

“Whoa there, Dean, where ya going? Why don't we go outside?” He squinted at her then nodded, and turned back the other direction. She gently pushed him towards the exit, and when she caught Chuck’s eye, he mouthed a silent thank you. She nodded and smiled grimly, and wondered how she'd managed to get herself involved in this.

Dean sat on the steps, his hands dangling between his knees and his head down. Y/N stood off to the side, unsure of what to do. What she wanted to do was sit down next to him and comfort him as much as she could, but the bright glint of her engagement ring in the setting sun reminded her that whatever it was she felt for Dean, she needed to leave it alone.

Until he looked up at her.

She had never seen such sadness or disappointment in someone’s eyes. He looked tired and broken, his eyes bloodshot and shining from the unshed tears that were trapped there. This was a completely different Dean than the one she'd sat next to on these same steps three weeks ago. Her heart broke as she looked back at him, and he ran a weary hand across the five o’clock shadow currently gracing his chiseled jaw.

“I'm an idiot.” Whatever had kept her standing was suddenly forgotten, and she tucked her legs under her as she sat next to him.

“Dean, you are not an idiot. You're heartbroken and angry, but you aren't an idiot. No one is going to blame you for having a slight...breakdown.”

Dean laughed bitterly, “Slight? I just ruined their reception. I jus’...I dunno. I don't want anyone else to feel like this, ya know? It sucks. How d’ya know when to trust someone?”

Y/N shrugged, “I guess you can't really know, not for sure. You just have to have faith in people. It doesn't always work out, and you're going to get hurt...but sometimes you find that one person that makes the risk worth it.”

Dean had been staring at his hands, but he turned to look at her, and his eyes locked with hers. Suddenly, it was like she'd forgotten how to breathe. His eyes were so green, like moss in a sun dappled meadow. His gaze shifted to her lips and for a brief moment it occurred to her what he was about to do, and that she should move.

Then, his lips were on hers and she completely forgot about what was right and what was wrong. She forgot about the ring on her finger. All she cared about in that moment was how his lips molded perfectly with hers, and the electricity that seemed to pass between them when he grazed her bottom lip with his tongue. She felt his hand land softly on her hip and she moaned into him, her fingers grasping at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. For a brief, wonderful moment, she remembered what it felt like to want to kiss someone so long and deep that you nearly became one person. She remembered what it should feel like when two people in love kissed; desperate, and full of fire and fear of letting the other one go.

And as soon as it started, it was over. Y/N pulled back with a gasp, and stared at Dean with wide eyes.

“Oh...Jesus...Y/N, I'm sorry…”

Y/N stood so quickly she nearly toppled over, “I...I have to go!” She threw the door open and swiftly disappeared inside.

“Y/N! Dammit!” Dean punched the ground, then swore under his breath at how much it hurt. He pulled his phone from his pocket, stared at his contacts list for a moment, then finally selected the name he'd been dreading to call. “Yea...hey, Sammy? I'm not doing so great, can you come get me? ...Yea, there's a wedding. I think Chuck will need to finish it for me. I...uh...I messed up. No, not just that. I really messed up, man. Just come get me.” Dean hung up and rested his elbows on his knees, his head in both hands.

This was one mistake he wasn't sure he'd be able to fix.

Y/N stumbled into the kitchen, barely holding it together as she turned the corner and leaned against the wall. It had been bad enough that Dean had kissed her, but she had enjoyed it. She had kissed him back, and it was the first time she had felt that alive in so, so long. She thought back to when she’d seen Ketch the day Sam had dropped her off, and it hadn’t even compared to the few seconds with Dean. The weight of what had just happened hit her and the tears came, large, silent drops that rolled down her cheeks. She heard the door open and hurriedly tried to wipe them away, but Jo turned the corner faster than Y/N had anticipated and caught her in the act.

“Oh my God, Y/N, what happened?!” She dropped the plates she was carrying roughly in the sink, ignoring the loud clattering they made as they shifted and nearly toppled out into the floor, and grabbed Y/N’s hands. “Where’s Dean?”

Y/N shook her head, “I don’t know...I mean, he was outside, but I...I don’t know where he is now. Jo...I’m an idiot.”

Jo smiled gently and used her thumb to wipe away a tear rolling down Y/N’s cheek, “Sweetie, we’re all idiots sometimes. What exactly happened to make you feel like that?”

Y/N took a deep breath, “Dean kissed me.”

Jo’s gentle smile turned into a hard frown, her brows furrowed, “That fucking dumbass, I’m going to kill him-”

“I kissed him back, Jo.” Jo’s mouth hung open, still in mid-sentence. She snapped it shut and looked at Y/N with wide eyes.

“You did what? Please tell me I heard you incorrectly.”

“No...I mean, you heard right, I did...I kissed him back. And it was...it was incredible. What is wrong with me?! I love Ketch, I love him more than anything, but we haven’t kissed like that in...shit, months. It’s been months. And then I looked at Dean and he did it so fast, and...God, it felt so right. I remembered what it was supposed to feel like, but...this was a huge mistake. What am I supposed to do?”

Jo gave Y/N’s arm a gentle squeeze, “Listen, Dean was drunk. I’m sure that he wouldn’t have done that sober.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Gee, thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel good, don’t you?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jo sighed. “Dean wasn’t thinking clearly. He knows you’re engaged. That’s not how he would normally act, and I am sure that when he sobers up, he’s going to feel awful about it. He’s in a bad place right now, and you’ve been nice to him. He was just confused. Just...give him some space, alright?” She patted Y/N on the shoulder, then walked back towards the reception hall. Y/N moved over to the sink to start working on the dishes that Jo had just left, and Jo paused in the doorway.

“And Y/N?” She asked as she looked at Y/N over her shoulder, “If you felt like that about Dean’s kiss, even when you haven’t known him that long, and you have even a single doubt in your mind about Ketch...you might want to reconsider that ring on your finger.” She left the room and Y/N watched after her, her mind racing with the observation Jo had just made.

Things had just gotten more complicated than she would have ever thought they would when she first moved here.

Like what you see? Would you like to see more? My Masterlist is here and the lovely @pinknerdpanda can be found here.  Thanks for reading! :)

The Wedding Singer - Series Tags: @nanie5 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tiffanycaruso @faegal04 @bethbabybaby @aesthsuggestion @escabell @lavieenlex @letmusicguideu @charliebradbury1104 @ericaprice2008 @kathaswings @feelmyroarrrr @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @journeyrose @kudosia @spnfangirl1965 @pickupthatamulet @faithfullpanicmoon @castianityislife02 @hexparker @squirrel-moose-winchester @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday

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[tisfan]

I would love to read something from you with 11. Nutcracker, B - Clint/Coulson. (P.S. I love your blog)

“That,”Clint said, looking up at the gaudy light display on the top shelf. “I wantthat.”

“In front of our home?” Phil wasless enthusiastic, but they’d already been to four stores before Clint hadfound what he wanted, and Phil was more of a throw-up-a-string-of-lights andcall-it-good kinda guy. Clint, on the other hand, had grown up in the circus,and he had actual legit feelings about Christmas and decorating.

“Yep,” Clint said. “Have to haveit.”

Well, it wasn’t like Phil minded.Mostly. They’d finally moved out of SHIELD supplied housing – which hadn’tkept them from sharing a bed, but there really wasn’t much privacy, or space –and into their own house. And it was their first Christmas together. Clint haddeclared that decorating was a must, and so he’d been hauling Phil all over theplace, looking for the perfect tree, the perfect ornaments, the perfect lights,and the perfect…

… giant life size polyresinnutcracker with an automatically opening and closing mouth and that randomlyraised its life size polyresin sword when someone approached it.

The price tag was a littleoff-putting. And the display itself slightly more creepy Christmas thanbringing Holiday cheer, but Phil considered himself a reasonable guy. He didn’thave any particular objections to the thing, although it certainly wasn’tsomething he’d have selected on his own. Who knew, though? It could be one ofthose things that became a thing. A relationship thing. Phil was lookingforward to having those.

“You have eight hundred dollarsburning a hole in your pocket, Barton?” Phil asked, peering up at it.

Clint shrugged. “I can afford it,”he said.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” anoverly cheerful voice said. “Help you with something?”

“Yep,” Clint said. “I want one ofthose.”

(more below the cut, or read the whole thing on A03)

The employee stared up at thefestive monstrosity. “Right, well, that’s an A-17, so they should be right thisway.”

He led them up through the aisle,dodging other shoppers, employees, and one display of solar lawn lights thathad fallen over. Phil paused to pick some of them up and put them back in thestack, where a half-dozen more promptly rolled off the pallet on the otherside. Fuck it, he decided, catching up with his boyfriend.

“Aw, nutcracker, no,” Clint waswhining. The slot on the shelf where the boxes were supposed to be was empty.

“Hang on, hang on,” the employeesaid. He whipped out a phone wrapped in a ridiculously orange case, did a scanof the SPU code. “It says we have six, hang on, just a moment. Stay here.” Hepointed to a spot on the floor like he was afraid that Clint and Phil wouldwander off.

Clint stood right where the guypointed, admiring some of the other decorations from his vantage point, whilePhil perused the shelves to see if one had gotten misplaced.

How, he wondered, did anyonemisplace six giant nutcrackers?

“This is Gerry,” their salespersonsaid, coming back up, “and she’s in charge of the garden center. So she’s goingto help you out, okay?”

Gerry was a tiny, tiny woman,probably in her mid-seventies, with a smudge of dirt on her nose and apractical tilt to her mouth. “You want that? You’re sure? Come on, this way, Ithink we got some more of these big’uns in the outdoor area.”

For a short, elderly woman, Gerrywalked very quickly. Hell, Clint and Phil were both trained government agents,and keeping up with her as she dodged around displays and talked a mile aminute over her shoulder, was taxing. In the few minutes it took to cross thestore, she’d told them all about two botched deliveries, the fact thatpointsettas were on sale, but she wouldn’t advise buying them because they werewithin three days of wilting, that they could apply for a store credit card andget twenty-percent off their first purchase, and if they wanted to, please feelfree to ask her, or any other store rep, and…

It was cold in the garden center;the whole area was open on the sides and the wind blew straight through,smelling of snow and exhaust and sausages from a street vendor outside thebuilding. Phil pulled his jacket tighter and shivered. It’d been hot in thestore proper.

“Well, they were here, I couldasworn…” She stopped in front of a large pallet of decorative boxes, none ofwhich was labeled as an A-17. “David! David!”

A third employee appeared – David,apparently – from behind a display. “Hey, did you find out about the 1063-RRcluster? I’ve been online with–”

“Not jus’ yet. Do you know whathappened to them nutcrackers we were s’posed to have? All the overstock shouldbe here?”

“Dunno,” David said. “We got a newdelivery in th’ back, though, truck just left outta here like twenty minutesago. I really need to know about them 1063s, though, so if you could–” he wastalking to air, Gerry having walked off, gesticulating wildly. “Huh. Okay,well, you all stay here, I bet she’s going to check the back.”

“She couldn’t have left us inside?”Phil complained. “It’s cold out here.”

Clint leaned against Phil’s back,arms around his chest, keeping him warm. “Better, babe?”

“You do give off a lot of bodyheat,” Phil replied. He leaned back into that warmth, snuggling contentedly.

“It’s my superpower,” Clint saidsmugly.

“I thought your superpower wasalways being in the way,” Phil said.

“Well, that, too,” Clint said. “Ican have more than one superpower. It’s allowed.”

Gerry was gone longer than expected– how hard was it to find a six foot tall nutcracker? Hard, apparently. Shecame back, shaking her head.

“The inventory says we have six,but see, there’s a little star by it,” Gerry said, holding out her phone. “Thatmeans it wasn’t actually verified on delivery. That happens a lot this time ofyear, really–”

“Excuse me, miss,” another customersaid, “this’ll only take a minute, but I was wondering if you knew where Imight find suction cups to hang on windows to hold lights up with?”

“Oh! I saw those!” Clint said,excited. “Like, just a few minutes ago, because I wondered what they were for,but yeah, this way, they’re over here.”

Phil found himself abandoned by hisboyfriend, and blinking politely at Gerry. “So, you don’t know where thenutcracker is?”

She shook her head. “It might noteven be here,” she said. “This time of year, we’re so busy that people don’talways check in the stock, we just take it on faith that we got what weordered.”

“So, my boyfriend really wants thatthing, do you think you could sell us your floor model?”

“Oh, no, no, we never do that, evenafter the holiday is over, people expect a discount on it, and it’s not listedin the inventory at all, so we can’t account for ‘em.”

“Since you’re missing six already,I’d say you’re not accounting for them now,” Phil pointed out.

“Look, what I can do is call ourstore out in Passaic, maybe they have one,” Gerry suggested. “Inventory saysthey have five.”

“You want me to drive all the wayout to New Jersey. On the weekend. During the Christmas season, onthe hopes that their inventory is better than yours?”

“I don’t want you to do anything,young man,” Gerry responded, tartly. “You’re the one who wants a nutcrackerporch deco. I’m telling you where there might be one.”

Phil heaved a sigh. “Give me theaddress.”

“Aw, decoration, no,” Clint whined.

Phil took a deep breath. “Can youcall the other store and see if they have any? Like, do an actual floor check?We already drove out from the city, and Westville’s not that much further downthe road, but I’d rather be sure than chase after another wild goose.”

“Inventory shows they got fourteenof ‘em,” the Passaic employee insisted.

“And yours says you’ve got five,and the store back in Manhattan said they had six, so that’s eleven six-footnutcrackers you’ve managed to misplace between two stores,” Phil said. “You cansee why I might be a little leery of your computer’s inventory report?”

The Passaic employee sighed likemaking a phone call was the hardest thing anyone had ever asked of him, ever,but punched in the number.

“We don’t gotta get it,” Clintsaid, softly. “We can just go home an–”

“You want it,” Phil said.

“Well, yeah, but–”

“Then we’re going to see if we canfind you one, dear,” Phil said, patting Clint’s hand. “It’s all right. Wedidn’t really have anything else to do today.”

“Driving around New Jersey isn’tsomethin’ any sane person does for fun,” Clint said.

Phil chuckled at that. “It’s notthat bad, really. I’ve been worse places.”

“Like?”

“Tahiti.”

Clint made a face. “That joke’sold, Phil. Like, seriously. Old. And it wasn’t funny t’ start with.”

“Okay,” the Passaic employee said. “Theydid a floor check, an’ they got at least four of them, so, what’s your name?”

“Coulson,” Phil said.

The guy turned back to his phone,then, “Yeah, okay, so when you get there, go up to the service counter, andthey’ll have one all ready to go, okay?”

“Thank you for your help,” Philsaid.

The employee didn’t quite roll hiseyes, but Phil got the distinct feeling that he wantedto.

“Can I shoot him?” Clint asked,when they got out of earshot.

“If we’re going to be exactingabout it, then yes, you’re perfectly capable of shooting him, with whateveryour weapon of choice is, from your bow all the way to the staple gun on aisletwelve, but I would greatly prefer it if you did not, because I really don’twant to deal with any more paperwork about your disruptions of normal holidaycommerce,” Phil said.

“You are no fun,” Clint said.

“That’s not what you said lastnight,” Phil pointed out.

“And it’s not what I’ll saytonight, either,” Clint said, sneaking in a stealth grope. “But you’re no fun right now.”

“You wanna swap tonight for rightnow, go ahead and shoot the guy.”

“Hmmm, no.”

“You did what?”

“Well, he was here first,” thewoman behind the customer-service desk said. “And he bought out the entirestock–”

“We were on our way,” Clint protested. “What did he need with twelve nutcrackers?”

“He was here,” she repeated. “Andwe don’t hold orders for people, that’s just not good business practice.”

Phil’s eyebrows went way up. “Howlong ago did he leave?”

The woman shrugged. “Do I look likea stalker to you?”

“No, you look like a bitch, but youknow, close enough,” Clint snapped. He smacked the palm of his hand against thedesk and stomped out.

“Thanks for shopping with us, comeagain.” the desk lady said, overly chipper.

Phil considered himself a reasonablehuman being, but Clint’s plan of shooting store employees suddenly seemed alittle less ridiculous and a lot more satisfying.

“Sorry we wasted th’ whole day,”Clint said, slumping up the sidewalk toward their house.

“It wasn’t a waste,” Phil said,grabbing Clint’s hand and giving his fingers a squeeze. “I like spending timewith you. Just because you don’t always get what you want doesn’t mean it was awaste of–” Phil stumbled to a halt.

“What the utter and complete fuck?”

“What he said,” Phil repeated.“Only with less swearing and more shock.”

The entire walkway was lined withnutcrackers. Six to each side, raising their swords in unison, mouths openingand closing.

“Hey, guys! Agent Agent, Legolas!Merry Christmas,” Tony Stark said, stepping out from behind one of thedisplays. “You like ‘em? I saw on social media that you were looking for themand–”

“You’re the one who bought out theentire stock?”

“Well, not me, personally, no,because really, no, I have shoppers for that sort of thing, but–” Tony’sbrilliant smile faltered. “You don’t like it?”

Clint and Phil exchanged a glanceand said everything they needed to say right then. They could explain to Tonyhow they’d driven all over the state trying to find the nutcracker and comehome disappointed and hungry and cranky…

Or they could just say, “We loveit. Thank you, Tony.”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Stark,” Philsaid.

“Merry Christmas to you, too, AgentCoulson,” Tony said, offering a hand.

Phil took Tony’s hand, yanked himinto a hug, and pounded him on the back. “Thank you, really,” he said.

Clint hugged them both, squeezinghard. “Yeah, you’re the best, man, just… wow.”

“So, like, are these in the song?”Tony asked.

“What song?”

“The Twelve Days of Christmas?”

“Like, what? Twelve nutcrackersnutting?”

“Thanks for that, Clint,” Philsaid, covering his eyes. “Now I’m going to think about Christmas displaysjerking off for the entire rest of the season.”

“Annnnd on that note, I’m sure Ihave something more important to do,” Tony said. He jogged up the walk towardhis very expensive car. He turned halfway up the walk and waved. “MerryChristmas to all, and to all a good wank.”