#im only a smidge late tonight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ihavemanyhusbands · 2 years ago

Text

Tease (18+)

Pairing: Dom!Aaron Hotchner x Dom!Spencer Reid x Sub Fem!Reader

Dedicated to @hausofwhores <3

WC: 3.1k of the nastyyyy

Warnings: SMUT (18+ ONLY // MINORS DNI), threesome, dirty talk, brat taming, oral (m and f receiving), very light bondage moment, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, power imbalance, light slapping, some choking, just a smidge of degradation and humiliation, spit kink, edging, swearing aaaand i think thats it but lmk if i forgot something!!

A/N: I LOVE WRITING THREESOMES!! And who better to write about than these two 😏 i literally wanted more content of threeways with them sooo thought i’d make my own hehe im literally frothing at the mouth this was so fun to write hope you like and aaaaaaaaaaaa

———————————————————————

You loved being a tease.

There was no polite way to directly ask someone to fuck you brainless, after all, so you had to get creative. It was an art that took some time to perfect; A thrill you would never tire of. Especially because you knew it was going to cost you eventually.

And it seemed tonight was the night you would pay your dues.

All week, you had ramped up your efforts, in a not-so-subtle way. Your usual targets were Spencer Reid and Aaron Hotchner, but the way to tease them was vastly different.

To get under Hotch’s skin, brattiness was necessary – Glossy, pouty lips and clothes that hugged your curves just so, which were sure to attract his eye. Just a little less willingness to follow orders, paired with sassy remarks and little eye rolls. Catching him looking at you and winking, always feigning innocence. It drove him insane, truly.

As for Spencer, the key was to get him all flustered. Words whispered close to his ear, fingers toying with the curls at his nape when no one was looking. Your undivided attention when he rambled about his interests, a small smile tugging at your lips. Playfully defending him from Morgan whenever he kept needling poor Spence.

What you didn’t know was that they’d been formulating a plan to get back at you.

The team had just returned from a case in Colorado, all at different levels of exhaustion. You and Spencer climbed into Hotch’s SUV as everyone broke up in groups to head home. The two men sat in the front, and you sat in the middle seat in the back.

Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet, twirling his thumbs anxiously. You could tell something was on his mind by the firm set of his shoulders and the way a muscle in his jaw ticked.

“Hey, Agent L/N, you up for one last little adventure?” Hotch asked, glancing at you through the rearview mirror.

You nodded eagerly, not thinking anything of it, hoping this adventure would involve food. But you passed all the commercial areas, soon crossing onto a more residential area. The drive was mostly silent, and there was a palpable tension in the air. Much to your surprise, Hotch soon pulled into his apartment’s parking garage.

“What are we…” You started, but Hotch cut you off.

“Oh, we’re just gonna go up to my apartment and have a little chat,” he said. “I think you’re in need of a lesson to remind you of your manners, which have been severely lacking as of late.”

You blinked, momentarily unsure if this was really happening. Realization hit you all at once, making you shudder. You pressed your thighs together as a broad, cheshire cat style grin spread across your face.

“Oh? Is that so?” you asked, feigning innocence despite the mischievous look in your eyes. “I’m so sorry, sir. I just have no clue what you’re talking about.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“I wouldn’t make things worse, if I were you,” Spencer said, voice low and almost sympathetic.

Oh, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it? You liked fanning the flames, especially when you had a clear view of Hotch’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. You couldn’t help but squirm a little in your seat.

Once the three of you were in the elevator, heading up to his floor, Hotch placed his hands on his hips. His eyes searched your face for any sign or discomfort or hesitation.

“This is exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He asked, which was his way of checking you were actually okay with this.

You bit your lower lip, batting your eyelashes. “Was I that obvious?”

The two men shared an incredulous look, and Hotch shook his head once more. His voice lowered, momentarily losing some of its edge

“Well, if you change your mind at any point…”

“I won’t, trust me,” you stated, winking in Spencer’s direction to further drive the point home.

As soon as you were past the threshold of Hotch’s apartment, you tried to reach your hand towards him, but he took a step back.

“Reid, take your tie off and bind her hands,” Hotch ordered. “Since she doesn’t seem to be able to keep them to herself.”

You raised an eyebrow, a cocky smirk on your lips. “Can’t tie me up yourself, sir?”

You could hear Spencer’s intake of breath behind you, along with the slight rustling of fabric as he slipped his tie off. He knew well you were in for it.

As he gingerly tied your hands behind your back, Hotch stepped forward and grabbed your face with one hand, lust and fury darkening his gaze.

“Just who do you think you are?” He growled. “Being such a smart-ass to your superiors? It’s really no wonder you’re in dire need of some discipline.”

You couldn’t help shivering a little as a tingle trailed down your spine. He noticed this, of course, and he grabbed your arm and walked you to the living room.

“On your knees,” he commanded, and you immediately complied. “Any ideas, Reid?”

“I say we put her mouth to good use,” Spencer said. “That way, she won’t be able to talk back.”

You nodded in Hotch’s direction almost imperceptibly, letting him now it was okay to proceed. He gestured towards you as he began undoing his own tie, undoing the top buttons of his shirt.

“I think that’s an excellent idea. She’s just been such a naughty girl with you too, hasn’t she? Why don’t you go ahead and remind her of her place?”

Spencer nodded, undoing his pants and pushing them down just enough to pull his cock out, lazily tugging at it. Your mouth watered at the sight, your hands straining against his tie in your desire to get them on him.

He stepped closer, his free hand coming to rest at the back of your head, guiding you forth.

“Tap your foot three times if you need me to stop,” he whispered, just loud enough for Hotch to hear so he knew the signal as well.

You appreciated them both for being so considerate, despite everything, but you knew there was a slim chance you’d be taking them up on it. This was a punishment you more than gladly welcomed.

You stuck your tongue out and swirled it around the head before wrapping your lips around it. He let out a sigh as you took more of him into your mouth, the soft underside easily sliding against your tongue.

You hummed around his length, eyes momentarily fluttering closed. His movements were slow as he began shuttling his cock in and out, getting closer to your throat each time.

“There we go, that’s better,” Hotch praised, which made you open your eyes once more. “Go on, get to work. I know you can take him deeper.”

His hand replaced Spencer’s, and he gathered your hair away from your face, holding it as he guided your head. He kept it down when you’d reached the base of Spencer’s cock, nose against his pelvis.

You breathed in through your nose, tears pricking your eyes at the effort. Then he relented, letting you come up for more air, drool spilling all over your chin.

“Just look at the mess you’re making. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Hotch said, making you look up at him.

With his free hand, he palmed one of your breasts over your shirt, which made you arch your back. You smirked, licking your lips.

“I want more,” you said.

“Oh, do you now?” He raised a dark brow, half amused. “Greedy thing. Think you can work two cocks at once?”

Your pupils were blown wide with lust, chest heaving with rapid breaths. “Yes, oh god, yes.”

“She hasn’t learned a thing yet,” Spencer tsked, feeling more bold now that he was so aroused. “Say please, now.”

For a moment, you stubbornly pursed your lips.

Hotch gave your cheek a little slap then, sharp enough for you to feel a sting, but light enough for it to not have a lasting impact. The smirk never left your face, heat roaming all over your body.

“Please use my mouth,” you said finally.

And so, Hotch undid his slacks as well, tossing his belt to the side. The head of his cock glistened with precum, which you eagerly lapped up. He hissed a little as your tongue made contact with his skin, which was the only indication you were getting to him more than he was willing to admit.

The two of them took turns fucking your mouth, Hotch being rougher than Spencer. Still, you did not ask them to stop. You could feel that your panties were absolutely soaked, some of your arousal beginning to trickle down your inner thighs. Your cunt clenched around nothing, and you shifted in a futile attempt to get any sort of friction.

It was Hotch’s turn now, his fingers buried in your hair. You didn’t break eye contact as you worked him, hollowing your cheeks. He truly was a sight to behold, giving in to pleasure like that – hair disheveled, eyes glazed over, mouth a little slack. His low moans were music to your ears, the smell and taste of him utterly narcotic.

“Filthy girl… who knew you’d be such a diligent little cocksucker?” He said, groaning. “I think you’ve earned use of your hands once more, but only so that you can take those clothes off. No need for them right now.”

Spencer took the chance to kick his pants off and he knelt behind you. He untied your arms, massaging them a little in the process. You released Hotch’s cock with a loud pop, and obscene string of saliva still connecting your lips to it.

Spencer helped you stand and hurriedly, you began undoing the buttons of your shirt. You soon tossed it aside, along with your bra. He reached around you to undo your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear.

You could feel his shaft pressed against your lower back, still hard and demanding attention. Arching your back, you ground your ass against it, still not done with your teasing ways.

With a small hiss, Spencer pulled back and smacked your ass. Your body jerked a little at the contact, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips, your nipples hardening. Your senses felt heightened, every touch to your skin almost electric.

Hotch chuckled at this. “A brat through and through.”

“It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it?” Spencer said. “She’s dripping and yet we’ve barely touched her at all.”

“Let’s see,” Hotch said, stepping right up to you, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them.

You gasped as he reached down, his fingers parting your folds. He slicked them with your arousal, his middle finger sinking into you. Your lips parted in a soundless moan, and he brought his fingers to your mouth, making you taste yourself.

You hummed around his digits as you sucked them clean. He retracted them with a low groan, this time grabbing your face to kiss you. It was a ferocious, hungry kiss, in which he dominated your mouth. His tongue parted your lips, tangling with yours. Your head spun as his teeth grazed your bottom lip.

You felt Spencer’s broad palm on your lower back, gently pushing you forward a little. He knelt behind you once more, this time spreading you open and licking a long, languid stripe through your folds. His tongue swiped the inside of your thigh, subsequently raking his teeth there before chasing away the sting. Then, without warning, he buried his face in your cunt.

You let out a shuddery, “fuck” into Hotch’s mouth, your eyes screwed shut and brows drawn together. Your hands gripped his strong arms tightly, anchoring yourself lest you utterly lost yourself in the decadence of Spencer’s tongue.

“You poor thing. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He smirked down at you, gently wiping hair away from your forehead.

His fingers stroked your face, and he used his thumb to open your mouth. He let a trail of saliva fall into it. You swallowed, body involuntarily beginning to squirm a little in an attempt to find your release. Spencer’s hands kept your hips pinned in place as he continued his relentless, delicious torture on your clit.

Your body went rigid as he inserted one finger into you, pumping it in and out at a steady rhythm. He soon added a second one, curling them inside you to reach a spot that had your vision swimming. He pulled back only to bite one of your ass cheeks, which made you whine as you clenched around his fingers.

“Don’t make her come yet, Reid. She hasn’t quite earned that,” Hotch warned.

Spencer nodded, returning his smirk. You huffed in frustration, which earned you another little slap, this time on one of your tits. Hotch’s hand came to rest on your throat, barely squeezing, as he made you look at him.

“What’s that, sweetheart? You don’t like being teased?” He taunted. “It’s not so nice, is it?”

“I never said I was nice,” you grinned slyly.

Spencer pulled back once more, standing up this time, which only left you even more frustrated. “Tough to break, this one.”

“Not for much longer,” Hotch assured him. “We’re yet to fuck the attitude out of her. Come on, get on the couch, hands and knees.”

He shoved you towards it, and you quickly positioned yourself. With his knee, he spread your legs further, one hand on your hip while the other probed your slit.

“You’re on birth control?” He asked, and you nodded in response. “Good, cus we’re both gonna fill up this pretty pussy once we’re done using it.”

You felt his cock lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing in. You moaned his name, pushing your hips back to take more of him. He tsked, two hard smacks landing on your ass to make you stay still.

“So fucking needy,” he grunted, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushing your head down to rest on the couch. “Be good and I’ll give you what you want.”

His hand remained on your head as his cock bottomed out inside you. He was impossibly deep at this angle, reaching places you never thought possible. When he started to move again, his thrusts were hard and fast, almost punishing.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, nails digging into the cushion as desperate, almost inhuman sounds leave your lips. You couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it, any sort of coherent thought flying out the window as he fucked you like an animal.

“Y-you should feel how her pussy’s clenching right now,” Hotch said through gritted teeth. “Sucking my cock back in every time I try to pull out… fuck. Do you want to come, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You begged, right at the edge and unsure if you’d be able to hold it. “Please, please, please…”

“Hmmm, well, since she’s asking so nicely,” Spencer purred, stroking his own cock slowly, flicking his wrist near the tip.

“Come for me,” Hotch rasps, moving his hand away from your head to grab your hips, pistoning in and out quickly. “I want to feel you coming all over my cock.”

That was all the encouragement you needed, the tight coil in your stomach finally snapping. You cried out as your muscles locked, stars exploding in your eyelids as you gushed all over his cock, clenching around him even harder than before.

He came with a low groan soon after, shooting ropes of cum into your throbbing cunt. His movements stopped, keeping himself fully sheathed inside you as he rode out his high.

When he pulled out, you felt it trickling down your thigh, coalescing with your arousal. He helped you raise the upper half of your body, kissing your spine. He brushed your hair away from your face, lightly massaging your shoulders.

“You okay?” Hotch asked, his voice losing its hardened edge to give way for.

“Yes, sir,” you said, smiling beatifically.

He thought you looked so beautiful then, utterly unraveled and flushed with euphoria. That smile of yours was different from the others, more open and genuine. Oh, you were most certainly trouble. He could already tell this wouldn’t be a one time thing.

He kissed you, mirth dancing in his dark eyes.

“There’s a good girl, so docile now that she’s been fucked silly,” he got up as you turned to lay on your side. “Let me get you some water and something to clean you up.”

Hotch went to the kitchen, and because you were such an insatiable creature, you reached towards Spencer.

He chuckled, letting you pull him towards you, and he lied behind in order to spoon you. You turned your head to kiss him, tasting yourself still on his lips. Reaching behind you, you grasped his length and blindly tried to line it up with your entrance.

He helped you out, sinking slowly into you. He was much gentler, thrusting slowly and deliberately, never breaking the kiss. His hand trailed down your body, towards your overly sensitive clitt, rubbing it in circles in tempo with his thrusts.

The two of you shared breath as he picked up the pace, a languorous heat spreading through you as you came for the second time that night. Spencer followed suit, moaning against your skin as he moved to kiss your neck.

“So perfect…” he sighed.

Hotch soon returned with water for everyone, as well as a couple of towels. Spencer unsheathed himself from you, and they both took the time to gently clean you up as you downed the water.

You grabbed Hotch’s shirt from the floor and draped it over your shoulders, scooting closer to Spencer as he sat back down. You tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, kissing his cheek.

He blushed a little, which you found utterly charming, given that they were both so domineering mere minutes ago. Hotch leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“Think you’ve learned your lesson?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

You snickered, grinning impishly with a shake of your head. “I might need a reminder… or two.”

The two men shared an amused look. They’d have their hands full with you, that was for sure.

Hotch took your empty glass to go refill it with water. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner smut #spencer reid smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #minors do not interact #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader smut #ssa aaron hotchner

595 notes · View notes

anakin-pilled · 1 year ago

Text

THE WAY IM ON MY PERIOD AND IM NOT READY TO READ THIS AT ALL! !!! i am so excited to read ): i have missed vol and neteyam so much!!! lets see if i cry? (answer to be revealed at the end) HAHAHA anyway ily andra <3 it brings me so much joy to read your work and annotate it!! everyone raise your hard if you were happy to see andra posted a new chapter only to realize its based on happiness by taylor swift which is NOT HAPPY AT ALL! AHAHAH the amount of times I've cried to happiness because of neteyam and vol is embarrassing

"Amused, he decided to take a different approach, as he got on top of you and started trailing small, peppered kisses over your chest and neck, over your jaw and face, until eventually your eyes fluttered open and widened momentarily as you adjusted to the unexpected scene, until they melted in the mischievous, loving gaze Neteyam knew so well and loved so much."

WE'RE STARTING WITH A FLASHBACK WAJAHHEFHESGHN

He knew all of that and yet, here he was, unable to stop his feet from moving to the labs, as soon as he felt like he could do so without attracting attention to himself. It was late, and most people were off to bed, so it wasn’t hard to do, even in this small settlement deep in the mountains the Omaticaya were forced to now call home.

OH HES GETTING MESSYYYYYYYYYYY i love the idea of drunk! teyam!! lord knows he needs it the most out of everyone

plushies and knick knacks

headcanonning that the na'vi (maybe tuk or even a younger teyam) made vol plushies...but imagine the na'vi don't know what plushies are and they learn about it from the humans at the lab and they made some type of figure stuffed with whatever cottonesque fibers/plants native to pandora!! maybe something like an ikran or even a baby viperwolf???

ugh andra i love the way you describe everything!!! i think one of my favorite things about your writing is how relatable it is; even though the situations arent completely relatable, i've always found myself relating to at lease one emotion you describe or write about and i love it so much because it makes it easier to feel what the characters are going through. like i just felt the pang in my heart! you are literally a better writer than some of the published authors nowadays

He wasn’t yours to lose.

AND I CAN SEE US LOST IN THE MEMORY AUGUST SLIPPED AWYAY INTO A MOMENT OF TIME!!!!!!

No matter what happened, he was yours right now. While you still had this, he will always be yours.

**UGLY CRYING IN MY ROOM**

You hoped that when you looked in his eyes, you wouldn’t see the stars be born and die, you wouldn’t see 21 years of your own life and the life you shared looking back at you.

THIS IS SO SICKENING I CANT HANDLE IT!!!!!!

It angers him further just how much the disdain doesn’t seem to want to melt away, regardless of how much he’s told himself to let it go, regardless of how he swore the reason he came here tonight had nothing to do with it. He had no right to pry, not anymore. No right to be jealous… not anymore.

on one hand....i love jealous! teyam. in fact, i live for it. but at the same time im still mad at him so i hope he's jealous and can feel even a smidge of the same pain (because i think they have different pains and i actually want to elaborate more on this) that vol has to endure.

it was easy to - that Neteyam suffered as much as you, that he lost just as much as you did, that dreaded July 9th.

YOU BITCH!!!!!!! I CANT BELIEVE YOU!!!!!! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS?!?!?!?!?? you see i know were giggling to yourself as you wrote and i love the small reference i really do...but you're just evil.

“Didn’t realise there was anything to argue about.”

“You shouldn’t do it.”

*war flashbacks to cardigan! neteyam and atan's convo about her transfer*

There was anger in you, you realise - bubbling just beneath the surface, anger you’ve buried so deep, you didn’t even know it was nestled in your soul like a parasite, looming in latency, until it was time to come to light.

LET IT OUT! LET IT OUT! LET IT OUT!

How can you tell him that he’s part of the reason you need to do this, that you need to be rid of this body, the body he’s known and he’s touched, the body that memorised every ounce of him by heart, that still felt phantom pains from the lack of his fingers on your skin? How can you tell him you will never be free until the body he knew and loved so intimately is gone… forever?

wowwwwww.........my mouth dropped at this paragraph. HOW DO YOU COME UP WITH SOMETHING SOOOO FUCKING GOOD ANDRAAAAAAA JAFJHSEOUGHSRUGHIUFHGDIBHD i feel like i don't even have the words to convey right now ughfjhgk just know i love this so much and im adding it to my list of favorite paragraphs/quotes from you.

“Wake up, Vol! Are you blind?! He wants you, he wants you to be the next Tsa’hik of the Omaticaya. He’s not nice because you’re such a treat to be around. He’s nice because he wants to fuck you!”

): WAIT but that was so mean of neteyam to say ): i don't like that at all WAHHHHHHHH but also i love the route you're taking with this? because i didn't expect you to bring up all these negative emotions of anger, resentment, and jealously but i love because i do think these are natural emotions that would occur in a situation like this. honestly i was just fully expecting neteyam and vol to just sadly reminisce and accept everything as it is but the anger??? it adds another level of oomf to the story so CHEFS KISS!! like of course there is just so much still unresolved so it would result in anger and i think its so necessary for them both!!!

You could have fought it, you could screamed and shouted at the top of your lungs that you loved me, that what we had mattered more than the clan or your duty, mattered more than controllable and comfortable mirage of peace, but you didn’t.

*me: acts surprised even though you already showed me this* kinda circling back to my last comment, i think this is so necessary and i hope vol's comment haunts neteyam! LIKE ACTAULLY HAHAHAHA but before the 1, i've always imagined what their encounter would be like after the events of cruel summer and one of the scenarios was a big confrontation because i always thought it was inevitable, especially with vol's humanity. and like i did wonder, why didn't neteyam choose vol in the end? sure, it was for the plot. but i do love getting to experience vol's POV and what she personally thinks, but i can't wait to see what neteyam says

nd in it, so did dreams - memories, as they usually did, at your most vulnerable, nothing but your shaky psyche and a desperate desire to relive your happiest times to stand in their way.

IN DREAMS I MEET YOU IN WARM CONVERSATION kendra stop referencing taylor swift challenge FAILED

“That I can’t resist a pretty face, especially when it’s yours, my Vol.

im literally scrwaming crying throwing up regnuksngserie please i cant do this im so weak

You are good. You are kind, and knowledgeable, and you have devoted your whole life to the Omaticaya and to this planet, without ever asking for anything in return.

THAT'S A GOOD MAN SAVANNAH! A GOOD MAN!

“Jealous. You can say it, it’s ok.”

“I know… about you two. She told me. So you don’t have to hide. Not with me.”

I feel like norm needs more love and involvement from the avatar fandom so i love the idea of norm stepping in and helping neteyam with the one thing that no one else can help with

“Kid… you did your best. You both did. And you loved her, and stood by her, even in the face of everything that stood against you. You didn’t fail her. The world did. The world failed you both.”

well.....yes i agree with norm. but at the same time....i really do want to put the blame on neteyam even though he's just as much a victim to life (or should i say Eywa's) cruel fate.

And that dream, you had to leave behind. That dream, just like everything did when it came to him, speaks to a love long gone, an uncertain future, so much helplessness and hopelessness and dread, so much fleeting happiness that dissipated when reality struck. It speaks to the past, a past neither of you related to anymore.

OHHHHH YOU JUST WANT ME TO CRY HUH!?!!?!?!? life is really bittersweet like that huh? that amount of times i've experienced something joyous, and that is joyous, but have also had a tiny voice in the back of my brain telling me that something is missing or that it wasn't exactly how i imagined and it just leads to this bittersweet feeling i know exactly how vol feels and it makes me so sad because no one should feel that way ):

In it, you saw kids, running around, calling you mother. You saw the People, reaching for you for help and guidance, a feather jacket and pilgrimages that would decipher Eywa’s will.

NGRDJKGRBRGNIGNKRJNGOGERKBJNGO i hope vol has a wonderful and that her vision comes to fruition ):

And eventually, he sees you turn away from him, from all of them, willing your ikran away. He watches as you leave, by yourself, desperately wanting to go after you, realising it’s better if he didn’t. And just like that, a huge chapter of his life, the longest one, the best one, was instantly over and Neteyam knows he just lost you, forever.

WHHGRIUSBGHIRHNBSLGDHIBUGOIR PLEASE ANDRA I CANT HANDLE THIS!!! I WAS LITERALLY NOT EXPECTING THIS AT ALL IM FUCKING CERYUWUSHGUGHEI

lately i've been thinking a lot about the human condition and my mind always goes back to neteyam and vol cause like yeah they're not real characters but ugh (and we've already spoken about this so many times) the idea that something so precious and meaningful and consuming like being in love with someone isn't a guaranteed thing? like its not permanent and can be taken away in a second and you cant do anything but deal with it??!? MAKES ME SO SAD ): and my heart hurts for vol because it sucks to know you hold no value to those around you, but i love her character development and all the realizations she's had. even though im upset at neteyam i really hope they end on better turns.

ofc i cry i always cry when it comes to neteyam and vol UGHRDUHGORGHE I NEED MORE !!!

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝟙 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕀: 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖'𝕝𝕝 𝔹𝕖 ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝔸𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕐𝕠𝕦

pairing: Neteyam x f!Human/Avatar Reader

warnings: angst, tragic love trope, the one that got away trope, some fluff, all the feels

wc: 7k words

a/n: surprise??? besties it's been too long, i know, but i hope you enjoy chapter 2 of the 1 x anyone who follows me knows how much this story means to me, and it felt so good to be able to visit it and be inspired for it again. i promise it will absolutely not be as long between this chapter and the next x i can't wait to hear your thoughts! i love you x

to clarify: this series will be following oceans and engines mostly, but both endings will make and appearance and play a part in this story x smooches x

♥ series masterlist ♥ cruel summer ♥ series playlist ♥ masterlist

Honey, when I’m above the trees, I see this for what it is But now I’m right down in it, All the years I’ve given Is just shit we’re dividing up

Neteyam let out a quiet chuckle as his gaze fell onto your unconscious form, splayed limbs over your head and over the edge of the bed, peaceful look on your face as deep slumber still washed over you, even as eclipse has been gone for quite a while. He made his way to the window, where the blinds were drawn, pulled them apart, and watched in shock as that didn’t even begin to wake you. You and Neteyam shared a lot of traits, a lot of similarities bound you together, but your sleeping habits were definitely not one of them.

Amused, he decided to take a different approach, as he got on top of you and started trailing small, peppered kisses over your chest and neck, over your jaw and face, until eventually your eyes fluttered open and widened momentarily as you adjusted to the unexpected scene, until they melted in the mischievous, loving gaze Neteyam knew so well and loved so much.

“This is one way to wake up, I suppose.”

“A good way?”

Your lips met in a kiss, soft and intimate, not at all resembling the boundaries both of you were supposed to abide by, and right in this moment, it didn’t seem either of you particularly cared.

“The best way.”

You thought about it for a second longer, then pursed your lips in mock deliberation.

“Actually, there was another time you woke me up in an even more… pleasurable way, and I can’t say I’d object if you ever wanted to do that again.”

The memory of that morning made blood travel down south as quickly as it took for you to say the words, and he growled in your neck as his canines grazed it, as he watched you shudder under him, as he smelled your sweet aroma filling up the air he breathed.

“Vol, you have to stop talking if you want to get out of this room today.”

Neteyam could hear the smirk in your voice as you spoke.

“Who says I want to get out of this room today?”

“I do, because I want to show you something.”

Showed you all of my hiding spots I was dancing when the music stopped And in the disbelief, I can’t face reinvention I haven’t met the new me yet

Neteyam watched the door of your bathroom, intently listening for the constant hum of the shower to see if he could hear you, as if maybe by listening closely enough, he would be able to have a direct stream into your thoughts, the way it felt like he used to back when you were you and he was him and you were… well, whatever you were to each other. He probably shouldn’t have drank as much as he did - not enough to be fully intoxicated, but enough to know the filter between his mouth and brain was shaky at best, completely gone at worst, and very little good could come out of it. He knew all of that and yet, here he was, unable to stop his feet from moving to the labs, as soon as he felt like he could do so without attracting attention to himself. It was late, and most people were off to bed, so it wasn’t hard to do, even in this small settlement deep in the mountains the Omaticaya were forced to now call home.

When it became clear your thoughts would never make themselves known through the wall, his eyes wandered around, taking in every nook and cranny of this room that was an exact replica of the one you lived in all your life back in Hell’s Gate. He appreciated the humans for how much they cared for you, how much they were intent on making this little corner of the planet as homely for you as humanly possible. This room was loved and lived in; there were stains on the desk, crinkles on the chair, cracks in the walls… there were books and record players, pillows and comforters, plushies and knick knacks that Neteyam knew by heart, that screamed of you and the life you lived, that although not what you wanted or what you truly deserved, shone brightly all around you and illuminated even the darkest corners of the world.

Something caught the corner of his eyes, one of the few things he’s never seen before. A box, hidden deep in the corner beneath your desk, with a neat little label on it that said simply “Neteyam’s box. Do not open!”. If it was any other day, or any other circumstance, if his mind wasn’t clouded with the heady concoction that was way stronger than he remembered and probably the reason humans were as mindless as they were to begin with, he would have heeded the warning clearly showcased on the rectangular enclosure. But it was today, and it was these circumstances and he was intoxicated, so without dwelling on all the reasons he probably shouldn’t, he found himself reaching for it.

It was tiny in his hands, so tiny, it was hard to understand that something this small and this seemingly harmless could knock the breath out of his lungs with enough power to overcome and vanquish whatever self-control he still possessed. So many memories, all fighting for dominion over his consciousness, all painful enough to open every stitch his body’s been working so hard to craft in order to heal him. One memory in particular clearly won, one that’s already been percolating in his mind today, but now was all he could think of anymore. The keepsake he associated with it was missing from the box, which ironically made it stand out even more.

There’ll be happiness after you But there was happiness because of you Both of these things can be true There is happiness

“Mmm.. intrigue. The Omaticayan prince wants to show me something, I guess I have to oblige then.” At the roll of his eyes, you laugh and pull him by the back of the neck until your lips meet again. In these moments, it was easy to forget the reality of your circumstances, the impossibility of your relationship, the hidden aspect to it that made it so no one would ever be allowed to find out.

It’s only been a couple of months since your 19th birthday, and somehow, each day got better. Each day was a reminder that he was the best person that has ever lived, the man of your dreams, the most empathetic, unintentionally charismatic, intelligent, funniest, most beautiful person you knew… each day a dream, until the inevitable forced wake-up call that he’ll never be yours, as soon as you had to pretend in the village, in Hell’s Gate, as you had to watch the matriarchs search for an appropriate mate for him and know there was nothing you could do to stop it.

He wasn't yours to lose. Not in the way you wanted him to be, not in the way you needed him to be. You tried to push the ugly thoughts from your mind as you felt him burying his head in your neck, just breathing you in. It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. No matter what happened, no one would ever know him like you did, no one would ever be able to understand every nook and cranny of his soul the way you were able to. No matter what happened, he was yours right now. While you still had this, he will always be yours. While you could feel his heartbeat in your chest as he lay on top of you, while your body was moulded by his own and your lips knew to recite each one of his freckles like a prayer, he’ll always be yours.

“You’re not as cute as you think you are, you know?” You snicker at his words, that you may believe if it wasn’t for the way he was almost purring under your touch, or the way he was fully sunk into your body, or the way you could tell he was smiling as he said them.

“Ha! 18 years of you falling for my every whim suggests otherwise, Teyam. Now scoot, if you want me to get ready.”

“So where are we going?” fastening your oxygen mask until it clicked, you made your way out of the living headquarters and were taken aback to see Seze waiting, her soft trills greeting you as she approached, her big frame almost knocking you down as she bumped her snout into your face. “Hey, girl. What are you doing here?”

You yelped slightly as Neteyam took you by the armpits and lifted you so you could mount the banshee easier, before getting on behind you and making tsaheylu, an arm fastened across your chest, pulling you tightly into his own, keeping you close to him. You’ve done this so many times in the 6 years since Neteyam passed his Iknimaya, and despite it all, it never stopped feeling magical, and fantastical and wondrous to you, like it was almost unfair that a mere human could experience such emotions and views, such exhilaration and freedom. You wished your whole life you could one day have your own ikran and really experience it the way one was meant to, but you were grateful for whatever moment you did get, and grateful for Neteyam for always being willing to share these things with you.

“You know the drill, ma Vol. You have to ho-“

“-hold onto you like I’ll never let you go again. I know.” This saying, that he said his father told him on his first ikran ride as a child, became almost a mantra in your life, with every moment you spent in his presence.

Hold on like you’ll never let me go again.

Past the blood and bruise, past the curses and cries Beyond the terror in the nightfall Haunted by the look in my eyes That would’ve loved you for a lifetime Leave it all behind

It was painful, the way the hot water was hitting your skin, in droplets that felt like spikes, in touches that felt like stings. Your mind was scattered after the momentous day that tried you, one which you never expected to live through again.

Neteyam… your ‘Teyam… someone else’s Neteyam. Different, so different and yet… still him. Painfully so. You hoped for more, more of a change, more of a departure - you hoped for a stranger, that could allow you to forget that the person you were looking at, despite adorning some new tattoos and a different hairstyle, was the man who knew you, down to the darkest, most intimate corners of your mind. You hoped that when you looked in his eyes, you wouldn’t see the stars be born and die, you wouldn’t see 21 years of your own life and the life you shared looking back at you. You hoped his stripes, that you could still feel on your fingerprints and on your tongue, would have shifted and become muted and dull. But none of that was true. Despite everything that stood against you, despite being worlds, galaxies, universes apart, he was still the same Neteyam. The question nagged at you, unwavering and incessant: were you still the same Vol?

You felt goosebumps appear on your skin as soon as you left the confines of the shower behind. Weird - it wasn’t cold, and yet here you were, near shaking, heartbeat caught in your throat in… anticipation? Fear? It was hard to say, but, with a deep sigh, you fastened your towel and opened the door to your bedroom.

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest as you took in the man sitting on your bed, that was way too big to comfortably fit in your tiny room, not that that’s ever stopped him in all the years you’ve known him. He looked almost out of place here now, so long after the last time, and you winced a little at the contrast between the memories in your mind and what was displayed so clearly in front of you.

“Fuck! Neteyam, you scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here?”

Neteyam looked lost in thought, almost unaware of your presence or your voice, glossy eyes fixed somewhere beneath your desk, on a specific box you wish he never got to see.

“This room hasn’t changed one bit in all this time. It’s so weird. Everything’s changed…” the sigh that tried him felt like it was expelled from deep within his soul, like a sigh he’s been holding for the last year and a half. “Everything… and yet this room, it’s like a portal to the past, like I woke up in a life that feels like a mere dream sometimes.”

You don’t interrupt his musings.

“The sheets, the books, the smell, the way the light flickers sometimes, the way the mattress dips on one side more than the other because you’ve always preferred the left side of the bed, and I always had to sleep on the right, even the broken vase I broke with my tail the night I left. It’s all the same.”

His gaze finally settles on you. He looks pained as he sees you, finally the human he remembers, that he loved. It hurts him being in this room. It hurts you, too. It was your turn to sigh, as you tried to remove the images of the past flashing in front of your eyes like a picture book, and tried to focus on the reality that was still weighing heavily on your heart, no matter how many counterweights you balanced it with.

Your sigh matched his earlier one as you spoke, your eyes darting to the room that you spent less time in with each passing day, that felt as much of a relic of the past as you sometimes felt in his life.

“Yeah. I guess nothing’s changed.”

Tell me, when did your winning smile Begin to look like a smirk? When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?

He notices an ornate bow by the foot of the bed, clearly the make of a talented Omaticayan warrior. It annoys him to no end that he can recognise the work easily, having grown up seeing it, having been one of the few that could compare to his. It angers him further just how much the disdain doesn’t seem to want to melt away, regardless of how much he’s told himself to let it go, regardless of how he swore the reason he came here tonight had nothing to do with it. He had no right to pry, not anymore. No right to be jealous… not anymore.

“Well, at least some things have changed…”

You blush, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint not to start patting your cheeks, that feel like they caught fire.

“Tarsem made it for me. It’s cute.” You didn’t know why, it’s not like you owed him anything, but you couldn’t help the next words, that stumbled unceremoniously out of your mouth in a panicked hurry. You didn’t owe him anything, but you still needed him to know. “And platonic.”

“Yeah, so were we.” The words, and the bitterness in them, so thinly veiled despite what you assumed were his best efforts, shocked you. This wasn’t like Neteyam at all - Neteyam was kind, and careful with his words always, he was considerate and empathetic, and he was never mean, especially not to you. Especially not like this.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and the tears that threatened to spill, leaving his words to hang in the air, making it thick and heavy with heightened emotions you were both trying your best to suppress.

“That’s not fair.”

Another sigh.

“You’re right. It’s not.”

I can’t make it go away by making you a villain I guess it’s the price I pay for seven years in heaven And I pulled your body into mine every goddamn night now I get fake niceties

“Are you drunk?” One exhale was enough for the stench of bourbon to hit you like a truck, and all of a sudden, it was clear enough - why he was here, why he was saying these things, why it felt like all the bitterness in his soul, that you assume has been as deeply buried as your own, was coming out in unsightly manners, and you were the one who had to stomach it. You forget, sometimes, it was easy to - that Neteyam suffered as much as you, that he lost just as much as you did, that dreaded July 9th.

When your question was met with silence, you continued.

“Why are you here, Neteyam?”

“I came to see you. The real you. At least while I still get the chance.” His gaze hardens looking at your body. He’s yet to look at your face - whether he doesn’t want to or can’t, you can’t tell. “Grandmother tells me you’re going to go for the consciousness transfer.”

You shift uncomfortably in place. His tone was distant and once more not like the one you loved at all.

“We all are. It’s the only way forward.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes it is.” He scoffs, rolling his beautiful golden eyes, picking a spot on the wall to grimace at.

“I’m not arguing with you on this.”

“Didn’t realise there was anything to argue about.”

“You shouldn’t do it.”

It was your turn to scoff, feeling irate despite your best efforts, despite knowing it was the alcohol talking, despite knowing you should tell him to leave, that nothing productive could possibly come out of this. There was anger in you, you realise - bubbling just beneath the surface, anger you’ve buried so deep, you didn’t even know it was nestled in your soul like a parasite, looming in latency, until it was time to come to light.

“And why the hell not?”

“Because you just shouldn’t.” his glare was harsh as it snapped to finally look at you, melting a little when his eyes found yours, the ones he's loved his whole entire life.

“Oh, I see we’re being mature. I’m doing this, we all are. It’s the only way. End of discussion, Neteyam.”

“… you could die.”

Your eyes widen. There's tears in his eyes, a lump in his throat. You sigh, placated a little by the realisation that all of this, although it could have been done better, was just his way of telling you he’s worried about you. You’re grateful, so grateful, that he still is - worried, that is. Your voice softens a little as you say the next words.

“Or I could finally live.”

“Why take the chance, it makes no sense. Just stay as an Avatar.”

“No. I will never fully live in either of these bodies unless I give one up. I’ve made my decision.”

“It’s a stupid decision. It’s a rash decision.”

“Rash? Are you serious? I’ve had 21 years to make this decision, Neteyam. Twenty-one years of feeling like an outcast, like an alien - of feeling like there’s no place for me in this world. I can finally be one of the people, I can finally have a purpose, and you want me to give that up?”

There was more, so much more - it was a complicated decision, the one you took, and so much thought has gone into it, so many sleepless nights went into this… but how could you say that to him? How can you tell him that he’s part of the reason you need to do this, that you need to be rid of this body, the body he’s known and he’s touched, the body that memorised every ounce of him by heart, that still felt phantom pains from the lack of his fingers on your skin? How can you tell him you will never be free until the body he knew and loved so intimately is gone… forever?

“I hate this body, Neteyam. I hate it. This body is useless, and weak. I have nothing in this body, I lost everything because of it. Everything… You have no fucking idea what it’s like. What any of this is like.” You urged him silently, pleading for him to understand. To stop asking you questions that would dig up a grave long dug and settled, that should remain untouched, that he was unwittingly desecrating. You were scared of what would come out when he did.

“And who does? Tarsem?”

“What?” You couldn’t believe your ears, the spiteful words coming out of Neteyam’s mouth like they were nothing, like it meant nothing when it hurt and burned and ached, when the seams with which you’ve become so acquainted starting splitting with every syllable uttered, when the anger that has been bubbling up in your chest for years, that you didn’t even know you still held onto was threatening to spill and poison this room and all its inhabitants.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Are you actually saying these words out loud? I can’t believe you, Neteyam. So this is what this whole thing is about, huh? You came all this way and act like you’re worried about my safety, about the transfer, when the whole time you were just jealous of Tarsem? Jealous about something that’s not even there? He’s a friend, Neteyam. A friend.”

You’re both shouting at each other, screaming and hoping that will alleviate the pain, that will push the tears back in your tear ducts and not let them spill all over your face. You’re panting, the hurt burning holes in your chest, the anger cauterising them and making you push forward, for another blow, and then another… and then another.

Silence. Silence that deafens, that echoes in your eardrums a lot more than the yells, roaring like a crashing waterfall. Silence. No silence can fix this. Nothing can fix this.

“Get out.”

His eyes are pits of guilt and despair, shock and terror at the words he would have never said out loud normally - you knew that. You knew he regretted them as soon as they came out of his mouth, but you didn’t care. Not right now. Not when he made the last night before your iknimaya, a night you were supposed to rest through so you can face whatever was waiting for you tomorrow, a bad memory that will only bitter with time.

“Vol, I -”

“No. Vol nothing. You don’t get to call me that anymore. That nickname was reserved for the child I grew up with, the teenager who looked out for me, the man who loved me - it’s not for you. You don’t get to come back to my life after so long just so you could try to ruin whatever little happiness I’ve managed to scrounge up from the scraps I was left with. Leave.”

“Please…”

“I don’t know what Tarsem’s intentions are. You’re right. Maybe he really does just want to fuck me. But I realised something, all this time apart. You didn’t fight for me. None of you did. You were my family, all I had, and it took you leaving and him becoming Olo’eyktan to realise I’ve never had a family. It took losing everything to see how little I had to begin with. You could have done something. You could have fought it, you could screamed and shouted at the top of your lungs that you loved me, that what we had mattered more than the clan or your duty, mattered more than controllable and comfortable mirage of peace, but you didn’t. You were ashamed of me, of what we did. It wasn’t enough for you, that I was human. You let me go, you watched me leave, I watched you mate with someone else knowing I will carry these wounds for the rest of my life and I did it with no complaints. I understood you, as much as I could, and I let go of the one love I’ve always wanted to hold on to. You didn’t fight for me. So you don’t get to be jealous. Not anymore. It’s not fair to me, or to you, or to the pregnant mate you’ve left at home.” The door was open now, gripped tightly by your aching hand, the tears falling from your faces and onto the ground the only sound to help the torturous silence left behind by your words, so many of them you’ve needed to say, so many of them you wish you never had to. “Go, Neteyam.”

No one teaches you what to do When a good man hurts you And you know you hurt him, too

The night was painful and never ending, the conversation pulsating in your ears like a terrible migraine. Why did he come back? You were doing well. Well enough. Why did he have to come and ruin whatever little joy you had? Why now, the night before the most important trial of your life, why now, so you can question and overanalyse every little interaction you and Tarsem ever had in order to prove him wrong, when all your mind can do is scour for reasons why he was right. Was he right?

He was right, wasn’t he? Why else would he be so kind to a demon? Why else would he train you, and accept you? Nobody ever had, not fully. Nobody ever had…

“Damn you, Neteyam.”

Honey, when I’m above the trees I see it for what it is But now my eyes leak acid rain On the pillow where you used to lay your head

Eventually, sleep did find you. And in it, so did dreams - memories, as they usually did, at your most vulnerable, nothing but your shaky psyche and a desperate desire to relive your happiest times to stand in their way.

“Why did you make Seze land where she did if you’re gonna make me walk so much?”

With a deep sigh, he stopped in his tracks and kneeled, and you smiled knowingly as you jumped on his back, your chin resting on his shoulder.

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“Eh, you’ve always known this about me, Teyam. And you still love me, anyway. What does that say about you, huh?”

“That I can’t resist a pretty face, especially when it’s yours, my Vol.”

Well, that shut you up. Neteyam could always shut you up like this, by saying things you both knew he shouldn’t say, and while you wanted to admonish him, while you wanted to tell him off because this wasn’t helping, this would never help this already convoluted situationship you found yourself in, you couldn’t. Not when your heart was beating out of your chest, not when your blush was so strong it was making you feel like your cheeks caught fire, not when it made you want to scream confessions that have settled in your chest a while ago, that would never see the light of day, as long as you could help it.

He laughed at your silence, and pushed past thick shrubbery to unveil the most beautiful sight you have ever seen.

“Surprise!”

If your heart hadn’t dampened the rest of the world and all its thunderous sounds, you would have noticed the waterfall crashing into the river below, but as it was, the sight laid bare in front of you was, truly, a surprise, and God… what a surprise it was. A sight almost too good to be true, the beauty of it all almost surreal. The cliff was remote and secluded, surrounded by tall colorful plants and hedges - perfect for activities no one should ever be privy to. The backdrop was something out of a fairy tale, down to the fish jumping from the waterfall and straight into the water below, and the rainbow that formed with every blow of the wind. But somehow, even despite every natural advantage that was so graciously displayed almost as if especially for you, still, the thing that made it all feel almost transcendent was just a simple blanket, woven in a pattern you knew was his own, on top of which sat a basket filled to the brim with your favourite fruits and culinary delicacies.

“You know, Teyam…” you chuckle, still taken aback by the gesture, almost chocked up from the love you felt for him, that ran somehow deeper every day. You wondered if there was end to it all, to how much this love will grow, to how much your heart could possibly hold within itself before bursting at the seams. “I was gonna sleep with you anyway, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble.”

You watched as his head swung backwards as he laughed, nuzzling itself in your belly, his braids tickling your thighs with every inadvertent move. A squeal left your body as his much larger arms reached above him and picked you up, manhandling you like a little doll, until you were on the ground, at the foot of the blanket. He said nothing, but bent down until his lips made contact with the top of your head, the romantic and intimate gesture enough to turn your insides gooey and your brain to mush. His voice was saccharine and velvet smooth when he eventually spoke.

“You look so good - so good - wearing my choker. Now take it all off. I want to see you wear nothing else, my Vol.”

After giving you the best I had Tell me what to give after that All you want from me now Is the green light of forgiveness

The morning was dragging and slow. Your mind was scattered and numb, perfectly complementing your burning eyes and heavy heart. You were angry, and sad, hopeless and forlorn, all of the things you shouldn’t be on the brink of your iknimaya. You needed your focus and your wits, both of which felt as far away as the ikran rookery you were on your way to.

“Ma Tawtute!”

You cringe at the nickname you’ve become fond of in time, that you hated right now, and the voice that spoke it. You try to no avail to leave, but you’re trapped when he catches you by the hand, willing you in place.

“Let go of me, Tarsem.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

You huff, rolling your eyes and tugging at your trapped wrist.

“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I can’t help until I know what it is.”

“Why are you nice to me?” you were angry again, almost eager to be proven right, eager to know for a fact what Neteyam told you was true.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I’m asking. Why? Why are you nice to me? Why do you smile at me, and train me… why are you making the People accept us?

Tarsem looked confused and taken aback at your barrage of questions, at your misplaced anger and your sudden skepticism of his actions. You couldn’t blame him.

“Because… you deserve it. Because if there’s one thing I learnt in time, is that good people, good humans, are hard to come by. And you, and the scientists, Spider… all the people who chose to stay behind in the way so many years ago… you’re it. You are good. You are kind, and knowledgeable, and you have devoted your whole life to the Omaticaya and to this planet, without ever asking for anything in return. The least I can do is make sure you live a life worth remembering, that you receive your well-earned place amongst the People.”

You were so content, so at peace, whenever your head was rested on Neteyam’s chest. You were home in his arms, home when your fingers were free to roam his chest, free to draw the constellations his tanhi made up when connected, free when his breath was fanning over your face with each kiss on your forehead.

“I’m so full.”

“Are you, now?”

“Of food, you freak.”

“Mm, I’m not doing my job well enough then. Guess I just need to try harder.”

You laugh, happiness enveloping like a shroud. You were scared of it, of your next question, but you knew you needed to know.

“Why did you bring me here, Neteyam?”

A shrug. Seemingly nonchalant, but there was purple in his cheeks, a flutter in his heart, loud and booming against your ear.

“It was the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, and it reminded me of you. Of us. As soon as I found it, I knew this could be it. Our place.”

“Our place.”

Neteyam’s head throbbed painfully, a nefarious mixture between a hangover and guilt making the world spin and his heart ache. Why? Why did he do that, say that? And before your Iknimaya, too. It was an important day, one of the most important days - important enough to determine the rest of your life within the Omaticaya and he managed to ruin it for you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Norm.

“You look like you need this.” Whatever Norm handed him looked like it had already been eaten and thrown up before making its way into his hands, but he accepted it anyway. Norm knew best, and whatever it was, probably was going to help.

“It smells disgusting.”

“It is disgusting. But it will help. The hangover, that is. Everything else, I guess that’s what I’m here for.”

“Listen… I heard you, in her room last night. It was muffled enough, but the walls can only muffle screams so much, you know?”

“I fucked up, Norm. So badly. I said… horrible things to her last night. I was drunk, and sad… I was stupid and jea-“ He catches himself before he can finish, but it was too late.

“Jealous. You can say it, it’s ok.”

“I know… about you two. She told me. So you don’t have to hide. Not with me.”

Neteyam’s eyes go wide at Norm’s words, but he was relieved that he knew - that someone knew. Someone he could talk to. Someone to confess to.

“She’s right. About everything, she was right. I abandoned her. Over and over. I let my mum treat her and Spider like they were pariahs, and stood by as my dad did nothing about it for years. I always thought that’s just how it was always going to be, that nothing I could have done would have prevented it, but I look at her life now, and how Tarsem treats her, and I realise I was wrong. And they were wrong. And we failed her. So many years, my whole life… I failed her.”

Norm sighs, both of them looking at you, talking to Max, who would also be taking his Iknimaya today, smiling and motioning at how you were planning on subduing your ikran. You were lively and animated, but your eyes didn’t reflect it, and Neteyam hurt at the blame he bore for it.

You haven’t met the new me yet And I think she’ll give you that

It went by in a blur; in a mess of worry and distress. It’s like he blinked and here you were, the first one to go, the first one to succeed. He was so proud of you, prouder than he’s ever been about anything in this life. His heart was beaming with happiness and love, his head swirling with all the way he’s imagined this day in his mind and thought it would never come, but here it was. He was living through it, and had to come to terms with the fact it was never going to be quite how he envisioned. But he still had you, and he still had today. And at least some of it, he felt, could be the same. In his dreams, you passed, and you shared the first flight, and he got to see you fully blossom, the way you deserved, the way he always knew you would. In his dreams, your ikran intertwined in flight, and you spent so much time exploring, laughing, yelling, living. In his dreams, both your ikran perched at the top of the Hallelujah mountain, trilling softly would be the only witnesses to your love, to the way he’d make sure to not let you go until the second he absolutely had to, until you were both spent, looking upwards at the unending and star-filled sky. He would never get that, but your first flight - he still could. He could still be it.

“First fly seals the bond, kid. You gotta go, now!”

You couldn’t believe it. You actually did it. All the training, and the fantasies, all the nights you spent as a little kid imagining what it would be like to actually fly on top of one, all the days you spent on Neteyam’s, while he told you about the bond, while you shed tears from the pain that came with knowing you would never experience it… they all led you to this. This one moment. Your ikran was beautiful, just like you always pictured her to be. She was cooing happily and moving slowly towards the edge of the cliff, almost as if heeding Jake’s words, or itching to further your newfound connection.

For one second, you look backwards, at all the people clapping and beaming with excitement, and your eyes, as they always seemed to, immediately drifted to Neteyam. They filled with tears at his pride, at the way his body radiated it, at the way he called his ikran, undoubtedly just as excited as you to share a moment you’ve always envisioned in dreams and reveries, one that seemed like a rare occasion by which your fairytale ideal life could come true. But your life wasn’t a fairytale - it would never be, it couldn’t be. And that dream, you had to leave behind. That dream, just like everything did when it came to him, speaks to a love long gone, an uncertain future, so much helplessness and hopelessness and dread, so much fleeting happiness that dissipated when reality struck. It speaks to the past, a past neither of you related to anymore.

Another second, for your gaze to reach Tarsem. In him, you saw a future. In it, you saw stability and comfort, a love worth harbouring and cherishing. In it, you saw the Omaticaya, and the forest, a destiny that always seemed out of your reach, but which was now closer than ever. In it, you saw kids, running around, calling you mother. You saw the People, reaching for you for help and guidance, a feather jacket and pilgrimages that would decipher Eywa’s will.

In them, you saw yourself. One one hand, your past self, a human, broken and unmoored, born in a planet that didn’t make accommodations for the likes of her. You saw love that ran so deep it formed endless canyons in the pit of your soul, that emptied when the love was so ruthlessly taken away from you. You saw your mother, wicked and disinterested, and your father, evil and dangerous. On the other, you saw a warrior. Na'vi. Omaticaya, through and through. Tough and seasoned, healed and ready to heal. A mother. A mate.

You were neither of those.

There’ll be happiness after you But there was happiness because of you too Both of these things can be true There is happiness in our history

“There’s been talk, you know.”

“Oh?”

“About you.”

“I must be getting pretty good at it, this whole climbing and sneaking thing. I was hanging on an upper branch of a tree back in the village the other day. Managed to somehow catch the end tail of a conversation between a few girls. Didn’t hear me, too busy talking… about you, the Omaticayan Prince.” You snickered at the title, one of many titles reserved for Neteyam alone. You knew he hated it, all of it - the attention, and the pressure, the sacrifices that came with being worthy of all of them.

“Talking about how hot you are, how much they would kill to be the one you get to get take home at night. Theorising about who could it be. Going on and on about how lucky whoever you will choose as a mate will be, how there’s not a single girl in the village that wouldn’t die to have that honour bestowed upon them.“

Neteyam sighed and shrugged, brushing off the comments for only one of his own. “Only one girl I care about.”

You smiled in his chest, abundantly relieved and terrified all at once. This wasn’t good, this was so dangerous, the way he was playing the strings of your heart like he was a world-renowned harpist… but oh, it felt so necessary right now - the validation, the promise that, at least for a while, you still get to keep him just to yourself.

“She’s a lucky girl. Whoever she is.”

“I’m the lucky one. Because she’s… everything. And I work every day, try my hardest every day, to be worthy of her. And I want to make her a promise. For as long as i can help it, I promise I’ll hold on to her like I’ll ne-“

“Never let her go again.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard and hummed approvingly in return. You hoped he couldn’t feel the tears rolling down his side. You hoped he couldn’t tell that breaking this promise will break you. You hoped he never has to.

“Good.”

“She’ll do the same.”

Across our great divide There is a glorious sunrise Dappled with the flickers of light From the dress I wore at midnight

There was so much spoken between you and Neteyam in just a few moments. There was so much he can see in you, so much struggle in your soul. And eventually, he sees you turn away from him, from all of them, willing your ikran away. He watches as you leave, by yourself, desperately wanting to go after you, realising it’s better if he didn’t. And just like that, a huge chapter of his life, the longest one, the best one, was instantly over and Neteyam knows he just lost you, forever.

You were never his to lose.

Leave it all behind

taglist: rebeccao03 @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @eywaeveng @midnight1812@fanboyluvr @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @daddysmurfslefttoenail @neteyamsikran @blue-slxt @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @eyweveng @itsjazzsworld @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @neteyamyawne @kasai-https @dvxsja @midnight1812

190 notes · View notes

magniloquent-raven · 5 years ago

Note

Ooh for your prompts: Fluffy Elmax sleepover with cuddling for #16 pls :') xoxox

i had such a good time writing this omg thank you!!! tho there’s a couple bits that threaten to be angst because im physically incapable of writing pure fluff lmao. it’s just tiny bits tho. just a smidge.

also, because s4 isn’t out yet i uh. kinda just did a time skip but didn’t rly change anything about how s3 left off? i know we know hopper’s alive but like. i guess he’s just still in russia in this fic LMAO rip. don’t think about it too hard

posted on ao3 as well :)

—-

Max’s watch timer beeps obnoxiously again. 8:36. El’s late. She hits snooze.

“When’s your friend supposed to be here, sweetie?”

“Soon, mom. You know, you and Neil don’t have to wait up.” They do this every time. Like Max isn’t almost seventeen and perfectly capable of being alone in her own damn house for five minutes. At this rate they’re going to be late for whatever thing it is they’re going to, and Neil will be even more of a bitch than usual.

Her mom glances over at him. He’s sitting in his armchair looking surly, checking his watch pointedly. Asshole.

“Well…I don’t think—”

Max hears a car pull up out front. “Oh, thank fuck,” she mutters, turning on her heel and marching out to greet the Byers’.

Joyce climbs out of the passenger seat as Max strides across the lawn. “Max, honey!” she waves, grinning bright, “How are you?” There’s always a…tone to how she asks that. Questions lurking under the surface that they don’t talk about. It makes Max’s insides all squirmy thinking about it, though she is on some level grateful for the concern.

Max stands on the curb, tugging on her earring. A habit by now. It’s both a comfort and a reminder. She got one hell of a lecture the day she came out of the bathroom with blood running down her neck and a safety pin in her earlobe, but she didn’t regret it for a second.

El slides out of the driver’s seat, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Max watches her stand and adjust her shirt. She always looked good in yellow. “I’m good,” Max responds after a beat, and it’s honest for once.

The door behind her creaks. Probably her mom and Neil coming out of the house, hopefully to leave, finally. She doesn’t turn around, just steps into Joyce’s waiting arms and presses her face into her shoulder. Max is taller than her now, by a couple inches, so it hurts her neck a little, but it’s worth it.

Will’s still tucked away in the backseat, peering through the window, Max waves at him when she peeks up over Joyce’s shoulder.

Then El distracts her. “Your hair,” she says, gently tugging on a lock behind her ear. Max steps back from Joyce, and runs a hand through it, cheeks pink. Three years ago she’d hacked off all her hair with a pocket-knife, woke up the morning of Billy’s funeral with strands still stuck to her neck, locks hanging ragged across her forehead. Her mother had thrown a fit.

“Yeah, I cut it again,” Max says, like that wasn’t obvious. She’d let it grow out uneven and messy for a while, but she broke out the scissors again about a month ago. It’s neater than her last haircut, but not by much.

El’s hand is in Max’s hair again, dangerously close to her face. Max’s knees wobble a little.

“Bitchin’,” she says solemnly, after a few seconds of consideration.

Max’s grin is blinding.

Her mother cuts in, before she can respond, gives her the usual talk about staying in the house and making sure she’s got her emergency numbers memorized. Then she bids them all a hasty, distracted goodbye. Her mom was never very comfortable about the Byers’. Probably something about Joyce’s too-knowing gaze, or the fact that El glares daggers at Neil every time he’s within range.

She’s doing it now. Watching him get into his truck with a quiet rage in her eyes. Joyce puts a hand on her elbow, and it doesn’t move until Neil’s truck has turned the corner at the end of the street.

“We should get going,” Joyce says, checking her watch. “Will wanted to be at Claudia’s an hour ago but we got caught up at Mike’s house, and, well, you know how it is,” she flutters her hands, approximating a shrug.

She hugs El goodbye, then pulls Max in for another one. “Call us if you need anything,” she says, pulling back and putting her hands on Max’s shoulders. That sad glint is in her eye again, and Max knows the offer extends beyond tonight.

“Thanks, Joyce, we will.”

By the time she’s taken the corner at the end of Cherry Lane Max’s watch is beeping again.

El glances down at it, a pinch between her eyebrows. “…Was that for me?”

“Uh.”

The confusion melts off her face, replaced by a cheeky grin. “It was!”

Max shuts the alarm off, cheeks burning. “Why were you guys at Mike’s for so long?” she asks. eager to change the subject. If the guys are meeting up at Dustin’s the delay wasn’t because Will and Mike were catching up, and, well, Mike and El’s relationship is…of interest to Max. For reasons.

El purses her lips. It’s a face that tells Max they’re gonna need to be sitting and cozy for this conversation because it’s gonna be a long one. So, she links their arms and pulls her inside.

An hour later they’re huddled under a throw blanket on the couch. El is giggling, face in her hands, and Max is wheezing around a mouthful of skittles.

“Oh, that’s so not funny,” she chokes out, trying not to spew candy everywhere, which brings about a fresh wave of laughter. El’s shoulders are shaking, brushing against Max’s and making her warm all over. God damn, she’s missed this.

“Then why are you laughing,” El replies, poking her side and smiling from ear-to-ear.

She’s beautiful, Max thinks. Her braid is half-undone, letting her hair curl around her face in gentle waves, and her eyes are bright. She looks happy, and Max holds on to that, keeps it all for herself because she did that, she made that happen. She might not have everything she wants from El, but she’ll take whatever she can get. Whatever El wants to give. And sometimes just her smiles are enough, enough to make Max’s chest constrict and her heart glow, because for now, she’s happy too.

She laughs again, in leu of a response. How can she not, when she feels so light she could float away, high on the soft strawberry scent of El’s shampoo and the way her cheek dimples when she grins. But she can’t say that, so she says, “Because it’s Mike,” and pokes El right back. “I’m legally obligated to laugh at his misfortune.”

They have a complicated friendship, which mostly boils down to her being willing to bail him out when he’s in shit, but only if she gets to make fun of him while she does it.

El wrinkles her nose a little, but her smile doesn’t dim, “You two are weird.”

She’s pretty sure it used to bother El, how much Mike and Max fought. Max can’t help but wonder if they’d have gotten along better if she wasn’t in love with his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Because she’d dumped him for good this time. Four months ago, apparently, though Mike was, until a few hours ago, under the impression it was temporary.

Max almost feels bad for him. Except she doesn’t. Apparently, he was a dick about the whole thing, so at least she has a solid reason not to.

“You love us,” Max scoffs. El may have broken up with Mike, but she’ll always love him in some way or another.

El’s expression softens, turns fond and sweet. She’s thinking about Mike, Max is sure, but the smile is still directed as her. Small victories. “I do,” she says quietly.

They order a pizza after that, and watch movies into the wee hours of the morning. By 3am Max’s throat is raw, and her stomach hurts from laughing (and too much pizza). It’s the most fun she’s had in a while. The Byers’ don’t visit as often as any of them would like.

Max isn’t even tired, but El’s head has been dropping onto her shoulder on and off for the past hour so she suggests they call it a night.

She knows that when the boys sleep over at each other’s houses they’ll take the floor, or the couch in the basement, anything but actually sharing a bed. As El wraps an arm around her waist and snuggles up with her under the blankets, Max takes a moment to wonder if that would be better or worse than this.

It always seemed so miserable to Max, how much boys have to limit themselves.

But also…well, it might be easier sometimes. She wouldn’t have to deal with wanting things she shouldn’t want because El would be over there, and not right up in her space, hands warm and breath tickling Max’s ear. This is different than sitting thigh-to-thigh on the couch, it blurs the line more, and it’s the ambiguity that’s driving Max crazy.

She wasn’t tired before, but she’s wide-awake now.

Time creeps by strangely this late at night. Max isn’t sure how long she lays there, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm her pounding heart. El’s breath is steady, quiet, and her eyes are closed. Max is sure she’s asleep, she was so tired before.

Before she can stop herself her hand creeps up, brushes a strand of hair from El’s face.

Moonlit, she’s ethereal. There’s always been something otherworldly about El, with her big, dark eyes, always watching, boring holes into you with their intensity. Shadows play across her cheek, and Max tracks them for a while, absurdly jealous of moonlight.

She traces patterns on El’s forearm, the one resting on Max’s stomach, keeping her touch light so as not to wake her.

More time passes, and Max’s head feels heavy with sleep that won’t come. She’s groggy, leaning back but unable to keep her eyes closed.

She starts talking. Whispering. Remembering the times she read Wonder Woman comics to El until she fell asleep, and hoping, somewhere in her foggy brain, that it might work on herself too.

“You know… I always knew we’d be good friends. The second I heard your name I wanted to know you,” she murmurs, and draws a star on El’s wrist. “Didn’t know how badly I wanted until I saw you though. You were terrifying, and I loved it. And now…” Her eyes slide closed as she thinks. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re beautiful. Everything about you. And I love you…more than I should.” She sighs, sits in silence and cards her fingers through El’s hair. It’s getting so long.

El’s hand closes around her wrist.

Max’s eyes fly open, and she stills, heart pounding. “Uh.” El’s eyes are open, looking up at her, she’s awake, she’s awake, oh fuck– “Um. Did—did I wake you up, I’m—sorry if I woke you—”

“It’s okay.” The corners of her mouth turn up, slow and careful, “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“Oh.” Is all Max can manage, staring down at El with wide eyes, waiting for her to…do something. Max’s palms are sweating. She doesn’t know what to expect.

El moves her hand, puts Max’s palm against her cheek and shuffles forward until they’re nose to nose.

“Oh.”

She tastes like toothpaste and kiwi lip balm, and kisses as sweetly as she smiles. Her hands end up in Max’s hair, fingers gentle but demanding, guiding her forward. If Max wasn’t already laying down, she’d need to be because her knees are jelly.

“Oh,” El echoes when she pulls back, laughter in her voice. She presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Max’s mouth, careful and deliberate. Then her expression softens, sobers. “I was jealous of you. At first. Didn’t…know what it was. Know why. So, I ignored you. And… I’m sorry.”

Max shakes her head, “Ancient history. It’s okay.”

“No, I,” El stops, furrows her brow, “You were so happy. Free. I wanted that. And then, then you helped me have that. So. Thank you.” She cups Max’s face, fingertips tracing along her cheekbone, and Max’s heart sings. “And I love you too.”

They kiss again, and Max decides that El sleeping on the floor would’ve been a terrible idea.

#elmax #elmax fanfic #stranger things #el hopper #max mayfield #i couldn't resist the little bits about max mourning her brother because im a masochist apparently #if anyone was wondering the earring max is wearing is 100% billy's #and joyce knows neil is The Worst which is why she's concerned about max #making sure he isn't treating her how he used to treat billy #yeah #ALSO #susan being all overprotective?#is because of billy #like. he might not have been her kid but he was something to her yknow?#and now he's gone #and she gotta deal w that somehow #and shes dealing with it by clinging extra hard to the kid she's got left #THAT'S TOO MANY SAD HEADCANONS TO PUT IN ONE FLUFFY SLEEPOVER FIC WHY AM I LIKE THIS #anyway apparently posting my writing is a thing i do now so i need a tag #a raven's writing desk #because i'm real pretentious dont @ me lmao

114 notes · View notes

shirtlesssammy · 5 years ago

Text

7x01: Meet the New Boss

Then:

Cas is God now, and I’ve never been more devout.

Now:

We start right where we left off. Cas wants the rest of TFW to love and respect him but they only fear him. Well, dude, you can explode them with a snap of your finger. Dean asks if he’s going to kill them. He has no need; They’re powerless against him, so they’re not going to try anything. Dean pleads with Cas again. But all Cas says is that he hopes, for their sake, this will be the last time they see him, and he’s gone.

Dean asks Sam how he’s doing. Sam falls, cuts his hand, and sees visions of Hell. So, peachy.

God!Cas is really taking the whole God Complex to a new level. He kills off a ton of angels in Heaven. “It is a new day on Earth and in Heaven. Rejoice.”

Dean’s soul Baby is once again in a sad state of disrepair. Sam’s resting while Bobby and Dean discuss trying to find where God II is chilling. Bobby suggests looking for a trenchcoat on a tortilla and I sometimes love watching episodes I don’t rewatch a lot because that was funny. Dean has no clue how to deal with Cas, but he can fix his car, and when Sam wakes, he can work on fixing him too.

Later, Dean’s grabbing a beer when Sam walks into the kitchen. He’s okay! Okay enough, at least. Dean tells him to come help with the car and they’ll talk about what to do about Cas. Sam starts to walk out when.

A homophbic preacher is giving a shitty sermon when God walks into the room. I will always stan the God!Cas that says, “I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation.” I mean, God!Cas is completely out of control, but just like our Cas, he was trying to do his best in a world that’s far too easy to do your worst.

Cas kills the minister and then hears a whisper of his name. He stumbles but walks out of the church.

Sam’s in the basement getting some tools when he starts to have visions of Hell. Bobby finds him.

There are news reports that 200 different religious leaders are dead in an “act of God.” One eyewitness reports: “We all saw him. No beard. No robe. He was young, and sexy.” WHooEE. (Sidenote: Chuck has a beard and a robe. Lol.) The Ku Klux Klan is forced to disband. New Age motivational speakers: Gone. I mean, God!Cas, bby, these two are not the same. Sam thinks they should try talking to Cas again. Dean has closed that door.

Cas healed leprosy? Bless the God that overrides pharmaceutical companies and their greed for profit.

Cas finds Crowley hiding out in a trailer park.

He tells Crowley that he will remain King of Hell but Cas will control where the souls go. Crowley has no say in the situation so he graciously accepts.

Sam is up late reading when he has a nightmare vision of getting choked by a chain. He wakes and calls for Dean and Bobby.

They’re busy in the shed with Baby and the 5000th beer of the episode. Also, Dean’s wearing his cute blue jumper and why can’t they bring that back?

They discuss Sam. Sam overhears their conversation. Sam and Bobby really want to find something to get to Cas. Dean does not want to poke that bear. Dean does suggest summoning Crowley.

They want a spell to bind Death.

Cas is out and about healing true believers while he is deteriorating.

Then he opens his shirt (YAY!) only to reveal a roiling belly full of something that wants out (NAY!).

Bobby gets a Fedex from Crowley: The binding spell for Death. They have a lot of the ingredients but they still need “an act of God, crystallized.” Bobby found something at a house about 9 hours away.

That night after some quick thinking on Dean’s part, (“Excuse me, do you have any Grey Poupon?”), they head inside the house to steal their act of God.

The residents of the house interrupt their burglary (they keep the fulgurite in an actual glass case smh). Dean turns around to see a shotgun pointed at him and has ZERO concerns. In two shakes of a lamb’s tail he has the homeowners trussed up. After a polite introduction, they begin preparing for the ritual. Sam and Bobby work on spell ingredients while Dean does the real heavy lifting and carefully arranges a bag of greasy takeout and a soda on a side table.

The ritual begins. The building shakes. “Um, hello? Death?” Dean peers around nervously and comes face to face with newly bound Death.

Dean immediately fetches the bag of greasy food - the best fried pickle chips around! Hey, Death, if you won’t eat those please pass ‘em over here.

“This is about Sam’s hallucinations, I assume?” Dean’s jaw drops down the ground. WHAT hallucinations, Sam? I can’t believe you are keeping something from your brother!

Dean files this new piece of information away and they get back on track. They need Death to kill God. Because “we said so and we’re the boss of you.” Dean. Honey.

Our poor Dean-tastrophe gets saved from himself by the appearance of Our Lord and Hot Guy on a Tortilla, Castiel himself. Death is utterly unimpressed.

“You look awfully like a mutated angel to me,” Death snarks, and informs Cas that he’s due to explode soon. In addition to a major overload of souls, Cas has also swallowed Leviathan - ancient hungry monsters that predate angels. They’ve been locked away in Purgatory for time out of mind, but now they’re just a step away from a delicious new world and their doorway is Cas’s gut.

Cas brushes away this concern.

“Where is he?” Cas asks Death about God!God. “I did a service taking his place.” Oh honey no.

Dean quickly gets tired of the Death versus Castiel snark-off and orders Death to “kill ‘im now.”

Death lifts his hand with grim amusement to smite Cas, when Cas snaps his fingers and frees Death. Uh. Wherps. Death strolls over to the pickle chips, reassures the frightened homeowners, and Castiel flaps away to…

A political campaign headquarters. Cas heads in to kill the senator running for re-election who has caused “poverty and despair in God’s name.” His stern facade cracks and he starts to laugh wildly. Uh. Oh no.

Death berates Dean for not preventing Castiel’s catastrophic god complex. He warned him, after all! About the souls! It wasn’t a cryptic clue at all! “Maybe you should find somebody better to tip off,” Dean suggests with rising ire.

Death suggests that his own time is better spent on another planet. At the time, I pictured Death swimming with our tentacled interstellar friends in a sea of stars but now I like to think Death planned a jaunt to a parallel world to talk to jetsetting Dean and Sam instead.

Sam tries to smooth it over and asks for a smidge of help. Death tells them that if Cas returns it all to Purgatory, that will be enough to save their world. He arranges for another eclipse as well to help them build another door. Finally, he warns Dean about ever trying to bind him again and compliments him on the pickle chips.

Cas wakes up. He’s covered in blood, lying in a pool of blood, and he’s surrounded by...the dead bodies of the political campaign workers. Cas killed everyone, and he killed them bloody. Viciously.

Back at Bobby’s, Dean has his boots kicked up on the table with a drink in hand. Sam tries to rally him to fight to get Cas back from the brink. Dean isn’t buying it - not from the guy who’s been hiding his hallucinations from everyone else. (Okay, but pot kettle black, Dean Bean.)

“It’s under control,” Sam insists. Dean would still rather escape into a life of porn and alcohol binging. He then finds news footage of the campaign office and sees the demented smile on Cas’s face. Erm. Not good.

Sam doesn’t give up, though! In the junkyard, he prays to Cas to let them help him. Back inside with Dean, Sam’s ready to sink into a chair and give up when Cas appears.

He looks...rough.

Cas asks for help. He talks Dean and Sam through setting up the ritual while he slumps on the floor. “I feel regret,” he tells Dean, wishing that he were strong enough to fix Sam’s wall before he dies. Dean’s not ready to hand out any hugs. BUT I AM.

Sam’s off getting blood for the ritual when he runs into an old face. Lucifer confronts him and tells Sam that he’s still trapped in the cage with two archangels and has been hallucinating everything since. “This is my best torture yet. Make you believe that you’re free and then yank the wool off of your eyes.” Yeesh, that’s clearly a move Lucifer would’ve learned from Michael. Who learned it from Chuck, right?

Dean heads off to find Sam and discovers a jar of blood in the hallway...and no Sam. Pressed for time, he rushes back to paint the sigil on the wall. They prop Cas up and start the spell. “I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas gets out just before the spell ignites.

The wall rips away and then light blasts out of Castiel.

Mood, amirite?

Cas lies on the floor, unresponsive. He’s cold and not breathing. He’s DEAD, JIM! “Damn it,” Dean mutters as sorrow steals over his features.

And then Cas blinks awake. And insta-heals! He sits up, blinking. “That was unpleasant.” Cas has his usual half bewildered half sorrowful expression. He swears that he’ll redeem himself to Dean, and Dean seems at least halfway receptive to that plan! He won’t push him away!

Except...Cas suddenly pushes Dean and Bobby away. He crumples in on himself and shouts that they’ve held on! The leviathans! In a moment, any trace of Cas is gone as Leviathan!Cas grins maniacally and tosses Dean across the room.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Cas says...and knowing how it ends up we agree! Pining, baby. Pining!

These Quotes are the Monster Under Your Bed:

What a brave little ant you are

Miracles, mass visions, trenchcoat on a tortilla? I don't know what I'm lookin' for

I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation

We all saw him. No beard, no robe. He was young...and...and sexy. He had a raincoat

Who feels like hog tying death tonight?

You know how I'm gonna deal? I'm gonna stuff my pie-hole, I'm gonna drink, and I'm gonna watch some Asian cartoon porn and act like the world's about to explode because it is

I'm gonna find some way to redeem myself to you

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 7x01 #meet the new boss #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #bobby singer #death #crowley #supernatural season 7

38 notes · View notes

dre--scape · 6 years ago

Text

Confessions (Sherlock x reader)

FWOOMP IM BACK MY PEEPS || it may look like i’m inactive but i’m really just procrastinating on homework so i’m active almost all the time but i take so long to write,,, i’m so so sorry ;-;

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1702

Request by anon (a long frikin time ago): Could I request a Sherlock x reader high school au? Thanks ❤️

Summary: Childhood friendships can become very confusing.

Requests are open!

Warnings: slight cursing (two words at most), smidge angst(?)

It was quite funny actually, seeing Sherlock Holmes hang out with you, (Y/N) (L/N).

The sarcastic and -often considered- rude teenager hanging out with the open and charming teen. Most people found it weird, some found it endearing, and others made bets on how long it would take for you two to eventually go your separate ways.

You merely laughed at that. Go separate ways after knowing Sherlock? God, life would be so boring after that. Look at you, imitating your best friend’s vernacular. It was only natural for you to pick up his little tells and habits.

“Sherlock! Watson!” You shouted as you spotted them down the hall.

They both looked up and saw you running towards them, making a scene out it. John could’ve sworn you slapped Sally Donovan on the way there and Sherlock smirked.

“You guys looked like you were going to leave me in this hell hole.” You pouted and Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Well you were three minutes late,” He pointed out. “John insisted we wait for you.” A small grin tugged at your lips as you looked over to John.

“I’ve found my new best friend!” You exclaimed, pulling John into a hug. “Don’t get carried away, (Y/N),” John chuckled, rubbing your arm. “I’m with Mary, remember?” The man laughed as you nodded into his chest. “I said best friend, I never said boyfriend,” You mumbled then pulled away.

Sherlock glanced between the two of you and sighed. “Now (Y/N), if you would stop flirting with a taken man,” The taller boy suddenly spoke and both you and John turned to look at him. “Mother is expecting us at home.” You turned to John.

“You’re not coming?” The blond shook his head and smiled. “I promised to take Mary out tonight,” He said and you grinned. “Such a romantic,” You sighed teasingly, placing a hand over your heart. “Oh well,” Sighing, you took a hold of Sherlock’s hand. “Give Mary our best wishes.” You smiled before you felt Sherlock try and pull his hand out of your grip. John saw this and watched in amusement.

“Why are you holding my hand?” Sherlock asked, attempting to tug his hand away. “And don’t forget to use protection!” You called out, ignoring and dragging the taller man behind you.

“(Y/N)!” A smirk tugged onto your lips as you heard John shout in annoyance.

“Why are you holding my hand?” Sherlock reiterated and you shrugged. “It’s cold.” You said simply. “You’re wearing gloves.” He looked down at your intertwined hands and you huffed in defeat. “Fine.” You reluctantly let go of his hand and your hand limply fell to your side.

“Thank you,” He stated and he pulled out his phone from his pocket. “My mother is asking what kind of tea you were thinking of today,” Sherlock said as he checked his screen. “Any,” You mumbled, keeping your stare straight ahead.

He quickly observed the way your hands fidgeted subtly, the slight frown on your face and the small shiver that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand. Sherlock sighed in resignation.

You weren’t really paying attention. Sherlock obviously didn’t allow physical affection and no affection at all. Hell, he didn’t show anyone any kind of affection. You were no exception.

That was until you felt a warm hand wrap around yours.

Your eyes snapped up to an indifferent Sherlock, who continued walking like he wasn’t holding your hand. You turned your head away from Sherlock, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Are you tired?” You looked up at Sherlock as he rung the doorbell. “Maybe,” You muttered, a large yawn quickly following. He chuckled as you leaned your head on his shoulder. “Maybe?” He asked, a slight edge of teasing could be detected in his voice. “Okay, just a little,” You admitted quietly.

“Where the hell are they?” He mumbled, ringing the bell then knocking furiously on the door with his free hand. “Just use the key to your own home, Holmes.” You giggled tiredly at your own joke which caused Sherlock to roll his eyes once again. “You are very tired.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” You muttered as soon as the door opened. “(Y/N)! Sherlock!” His mum greeted as you let go of Sherlock’s hand. “Mrs. Mum!” You cheered, enveloping her in a hug.

Sherlock huffed out in amusement as all your energy returned. “Come now, we have an array of teas for you to choose!” You laughed sheepishly and waved your hand. “I would’ve been fine with any, I’m sorry for causing you a hassle.” You apologized as she stepped aside to let you in.

“Oh, nonsense!” She exclaimed, rubbing your shoulder soothingly. “You are less of a hassle than my own two sons.” You both laughed and she ushered you in the direction of the kitchen. Sherlock tried to follow until his mum cleared her throat.

He turned around to face his mother, her arms folded. “Aren’t you forgetting anything?” Sherlock scoffed softly, but still gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “Hello to you too, Sherlock,” She said sternly but lovingly.

“Thank you so much for everything, Mrs. Holmes.” You smiled as she pulled you into a hug. “Of course, honey,” She returned the gesture before pulling away. Your gaze turned upwards towards Sherlock.

You grinned and held out your hand. “Since your mum told you to bring me to the station,” The taller boy sighed before grabbing your hand reluctantly. “Bye Mr. Dad! Bye Mycroft!” You announced, waving your hand animatedly. You saw Mycroft’s eyes travel down to your interlocked hands and a sly smirk spread across his lips. “Goodbye, (Y/N),” The older brother said, nodding his head your way. You stuck your tongue out and smiled graciously at Mr. Holmes before dragging Sherlock out of his home.

“Y’know,” You started, staring up into the rare sight of a starry sky. “I could’ve walked to the station alone.” Sherlock scoffed and looked around at the small town he came to memorize by walking alongside you, “Well, mother would’ve had my head if I let you walk here alone at night, and your grip on my hand isn't much of a help either,” You laughed and swung your arms softly.

Sherlock chuckled at the childish gesture but let you continue anyway.

A few minutes passed before you spoke up. “Why do you do this?” Sherlock turned his attention to you and you huffed in slight amusement.

“Do what-”

“That.”

Now he was genuinely confused, not like he’d ever admit it though.

“Why do you do things differently with me?” You asked as you slowed your pace, letting go of Sherlock’s hand. “You allow me to hold your hand and get intimately friendly, we rarely quip, and hell,” You paused for emphasis. “You give me your attention after I ask one question when it takes John a murder and a breakup!” Your teeth clamped down on your tongue before you tilted your head back, closed your eyes and sighed.

Sherlock noticed how your jaw tightened and how your breathing pattern changed. “We’ve known each other for years, (Y/N), of course I’m going to know everything about you,” He chuckled. “I’m going to know how you like physical attention or how you noticeably get irked everytime you can’t think of an intelligent riposte to an insult,” He watched as your eyes opened, suddenly glossed over.

“Did I offend you?” He asked almost immediately after noticing your response to his observations. “I’m terribly sorry about-”

“That’s what I’m talking about, Sher.”

He froze. You never called him that since year 7.

“You think you know every detail about everyone and every little thing,” You let out a ghost of a laugh. “But you really don’t.” You quickly wiped away a tear from your eye and quickly glanced at Sherlock who obviously noticed it. “I guess I’m just that great of an actor, right?” Sherlock tilted his head, giving away his knowledge of knowing he was dumbfounded.

More tears followed, one after the other, and you merely laughed bitterly. “Goddamn teenage hormones,” You cursed softly. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Sherlock Holmes.”

The aforementioned teen felt a squeeze in his chest. “I’ve fallen in love with your stupid hair and your stupid vocabulary,” He could tell you were running out of the air in your lungs by the crack in your voice. You were close to crying.

“I didn’t want to fall in love with you,” You cried. Sherlock felt the squeeze again when you said that. Was it possible he was actually hurting because of your words? “I really didn’t want to fall in love with someone who wouldn’t love me back!” Your legs gave out from under you and you collapsed to your knees. Sherlock quickly kneeled down to your height before pulling you into a hug.

You continued to cry into his shoulder, both of you ignoring the harsh weather of London.

“It’s alright,” He soothed, stroking your hair. “It’s too cliché,” You mumbled into his coat. “The best friend from childhood falls in love with the main character,” A sour chuckle escaped your lips before pulling away from his embrace.

A biting smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at Sherlock. “God,” You scoffed and Sherlock returned your gaze. “This is like some cheesy romance fanfic I would read back in year 7,” Both you and Sherlock laughed softly and you buried your face in his shoulder again.

“This won’t change anything, right Sherlock?” You sounded so tired, he wasn’t sure if it was even you who spoke. “My confession won’t change anything?”

Sherlock felt your body start to shake and he pulled you in closer. “No,” He whispered, placing a careful hand on your head. “It won’t change anything except my train of thought.” Your head popped up, eyes wide with worry.

“I’m sorry! We can just ignore-” A chaste kiss to your nose cut you off and you only stared at the boy in front of you, who donned a cheeky grin.

“You’re going to be very distracting, (Y/N) (L/N).”

#sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes one shot #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock x reader #sherlock one shot #sherlock imagine #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch imagine #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch one shot

261 notes · View notes

eddieeatsass · 6 years ago

Note

ok but like a hanzier propsal fic please? i just need one in my life and im really going down cause i can't find any. ( also smut in it if you're feeling generous hehe )

I’m sorry it took longer than expected to get this to you, life got in the way! But I had so much fun writing this, thank you for the prompt.

Read On AO3

Richie and Mike were an anomaly. A peculiar match that shocked everyone as much as it shocked them themselves. They moved as a unit, despite being so vastly different in all other capacities. Their love is what stitched them together, made them immovable, a constant in everyone’s lives.

They’d gotten together at an early age, the pull between them impossible to ignore. While the rest of the Losers were exploring their hearts, Mike and Richie spent their nights curled up together in the fields at Mike’s farm, watching the stars and making wishes on the ones that shot by.

So, it wasn’t a surprise to anyone when they got engaged. Everyone has seen it coming from a mile away. At 25, the pair had been together for nearly 9 years, a decade approaching at light speed to wrap up their adoration for each other in a pretty little bow.

They’d been talking about marriage since they were teenagers, young and naive to the realities of the world outside of high school. They’d thought they could get hitched as soon as they were out of school, settle down in a big house with three dogs, and call it a day. Unfortunately, life had other plans. Finances and secondary education snuck up on them quickly, pulling the wool off their eyes and exposing sensitive nerves to adult life. They adapted, but not without having to make some adjustments to their original plan. A big house became a small off-campus apartment, which they had to share with Stan and Bill just to make rent. Three dogs became one goldfish, which Richie adamantly insisted they name “Spot”. And getting married got put on the back burner, a dream for another time. A time when they weren’t buried in student loans, homework, and minimum wage jobs.

While it wasn’t a surprise to anyone that they got engaged, how they got engaged was a story in itself.

Mike had always been the level-headed part of the twosome, balancing out Richie’s grand imagination and impulsive nature. So, when he decided he wanted to propose, he had to start thinking like his boyfriend. A proposal to Richie couldn’t simply be “level-headed”, it had to match how wild and loud and full of life he was. Mike had mulled over ideas for weeks until he finally admitted he needed to recruit some help, so he went to the only other person who knew Richie as well as he did: Beverly Marsh.

Beverly was, of course, ecstatic to hear that Mike planned on proposing. But she also wasn’t shy to tell him how much his ideas sucked. A walk along the beach, a boat ride, a nature walk; they were all sweet gestures, but they weren’t as memorable as Mike wanted them to be.

Finally, after another week of discreetly texting one another, Beverly and Mike came up with a plan, and a month later he was putting it into action.

It was the 10th of July, the day that Richie had officially asked Mike to be his boyfriend all those years ago. Mike planned a weekend trip for them to visit Derry, catch up with their parents and see how much the town had changed since they’d left. Neither of them had enjoyed living there when they’d been kids but going back had a nostalgic draw that made it seem sentimental. It hadn’t been all bad; long days freckling under the sun at the Quarry, making Eddie squirm as they trudged through the mucky waters of the Barrens, muffled giggles into old books as they tried to hide from Ms. Sally’s shushing at the town’s library. And of course, it’s where they met each other. Where they fell in love.

They’d spent the earlier part of the day at the Tozier residence, visiting with Maggie and Went over brunch. Now, they were at the tail-end of dinner with the Hanlons. Will and Jessica were clearing the table when Jessica spoke up.

“Do you two have somewhere to stay tonight?”

“We were just going to grab a room at the motel down the road-” Richie began to say, before Jessica interrupted him with her tutting.

“Nonsense! Why spend money when you can stay here?”

Mike and Richie exchanged a bashful look, knowing that staying in Mike’s childhood room together with his parents right next door might not be… ideal.

Will chuckled, as if reading their minds. “We’re going out tonight, won’t be back ‘till tomorrow afternoon. We’re going swing dancing in Old Town! We’ll be staying with your aunt Mary overnight.”

Mike’s tense shoulders relaxed at the news that they’d have the house all to themselves for the night. It would make his plan go that much smoother.

Jessica brought out dessert, which Richie devoured in record time, and then they were heading out, leaving Richie and Mike to their own devices.

As Richie set off to shower, Mike checked his watch for the umpteenth time that evening, watching the time closely to make sure he followed his schedule down to the minute. Richie’s shower made them a smidge late, but Mike schooled his features to hide his worry so Richie wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Heya hot stuff.” Mike greeted Richie as he strolled out of the bathroom with steam billowing behind him. He had one towel loosely thrown around his hips and was ruffling up his hair with another. Mike got up from his perch on his bed and strolled towards Richie, meeting him in the middle of the room. He grabbed Richie by the hips and pulled him in for a soft kiss.

“Mmm, hi.” Richie whispered against Mike’s lips, a smile curling under the attention.

With a second kiss to Richie’s forehead, Mike pulled himself away.

“So, I was thinking maybe we could walk out to the field and do some stargazing, you know, like we used to.” The suggestion was casual, but Mike’s heart was beating fast. His plan depended on Richie saying yes.

“Yeah sure babe.” Richie responded as he pulled a t-shirt over his wet mop of hair and reached for his boxers. “Just let me get a little more appropriately dressed.” He winked before hopping ungracefully as he pulled on his boxers, tripping slightly but recovering with a charming smile.

Mike’s pulse relaxed immediately, his anxiety being replaced with fondness for this goofy, maladjusted boy he was soon going to propose to.

It took a few more minutes before they were off, hands clasped together as they wandered out into the seemingly never-ending field of the Hanlon’s farm. The night was beautiful, the sky completely devoid of clouds and shining bright with the dim light of the stars.

They walked for a few minutes until the house behind them became part of a separate world, and that’s when Richie saw it.

“Michael!” Richie gasped, as he spotted what was in the distance. They were walking towards a patch of grass covered with a large blanket, surrounded by four lit tiki torches.

Mike couldn’t hold back the grin that split across his face, seeing Richie’s excitement got his own going.

Richie let go of Mike’s hand to sprint the rest of the way to the set-up. When he got there, he noticed there was an abundance of pillows as well as two picnic baskets set aside. Laying down was like resting on a bed of clouds, and he instantly felt all the stress of life evaporating away under the stars.

Mike finally caught up and sat down beside Richie. He looked down at him and couldn’t help but reach a hand out and pet the hair back from Richie’s forehead, letting his fingers linger on his cheek.

“Happy 9 years, my love.” He whispered.

Richie’s eyes flicked their attention to Mike, so much adoration and passion present in those blue pearls.

“Happy 9 years, Mikey.” Richie responded, lifting his hand up to Mikes and lacing their fingers together. He swiftly broke the moment by tugging on Mike’s arm and pulling him down on top of him.

Richie laughed as Mike tried not to crush Richie beneath him as he toppled over. He was still giggling as he brought their lips together, his hands already wandering down the front of Mike’s chest.

Mike had to fight to get his mind and body to comply to the plan he had set up. As much as he wanted to get lost in Richie’s arms, he couldn’t. Not yet, at least.

So, ignoring Richie’s complaintive whine, Mike rolled off him and towards the baskets he had set aside.

“I don’t want our food to get cold.” Mike used as an excuse. From the basket he procured a tray of chocolate covered strawberries, as well as two champagne flutes along with non-alcoholic champagne. Neither of them really drank, and besides, he wanted to be as lucid as possible for what was about to happen.

He passed the plate off to Richie who grabbed it eagerly, tearing the saran wrap off unceremoniously and beginning his search for the perfect strawberry. Mike poured them both some champagne, taking the time to check his watch again. Eight minutes until the big moment. He took a deep breath before putting the champagne aside and turning back to Richie.

“I found the best one.” Richie exclaimed happily, holding up the biggest strawberry in the pile. It was coated nearly perfectly in chocolate, save for the green stem Richie was holding it by.

“C’mere.” Richie beckoned, setting the tray beside him and scooting closer to Mike.

Mike complied, snuggling close to Richie and handing him one of the flutes.

Richie brought the strawberry up to Mike’s lips, beginning to trace them slowly with the fruit. Richie’s mouth was set tight, but Mike could tell he was trying to hold back laughter.

“Richie this doesn’t-”

“Shhhh.” Richie used the strawberry to quiet him, pressing it more firmly against his lips.

“Let me seduce you.” Richie said in a low attempt at a sultry voice.

Now Mike was also trying not to laugh, his cheeks pulled up into rosy apples as Richie continued his ministrations. Chocolate was melting against Mike’s mouth, giving him the appearance of wearing lipstick. That’s when Richie finally cracked, pulled his hand back and laughing audibly at the mess on Mike’s face.

Mike laughed along, resisting the urge to wipe his mouth right away. Instead, as he’d expected, Richie leaned in after he’d composed himself, and licked the chocolate clean. He finished by pecking Mike innocently before pulling back and finally properly feeding the strawberry to his poor boyfriend.

They continued like that for the next few minutes, laughing and talking, eating the strawberries faster than they probably should and washing down the sweetness with glorified carbonated juice.

Mike got so caught up in the moment that he almost forgot what he was there for, until the loud boom reminded him.

“Fireworks, really? The 4th of July was six days ago!” Richie complained with no real fever. Richie loved fireworks, loved the bright colors and loud noises, loved getting lost in whatever story his brain decided they were telling.

“Let’s watch.” Mike encouraged, taking Richie’s nearly empty flute from him and setting both of theirs back into the picnic basket.

When Mike turned back around, Richie was already laying on his back, his hands folded eagerly on his stomach as his eyes searched the sky for the next show.

Mike lowered himself down beside him, taking a second to memorize the look on Richie’s face at that exact moment.

Another firework exploded above them, accompanied by a quicker burst of a few more. Mike’s gaze stayed on Richie’s face, his hand reaching into his pocket to finger the little ring box he’d been carrying around all day.

Three more fireworks. Richie’s eyes were lit up both with the reflection of the lights, and with that wonder that Mike fell in love with.

Another one.

Then a succession of smaller ones.

And then...

Richie’s eyes were meeting Mike’s, wide and questioning.

Richie’s mouth gaped, words seeming to fail him for the first time in his life.

Above them, the fireworks were quickly disappearing, the fiery words “Richie, Will You Marry Me?” fading into the night’s sky.

“So?” Mike took a deep breath, rolling over on to his side to fully face Richie. His hand pulled the small box out from its confines and he held it up to Richie, popping it open to reveal a delicate gold band.

“What do you say?” Mike’s voice wavered as he waited for a sigh.

“What the fuck.” Richie blurted out, before he started sobbing.

Mike faltered quickly, letting the ring box drop as he prioritized pulling Richie close to his chest.

“Baby, baby I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry, I’m sorry I-”

A vibration against his chest cut him off. He had to pull away slightly so he could decipher Richie’s words.

“You ruined my plan.” Richie blubbered out again, his tears now juxtaposed by a huge smile that he was trying to disguise as a pout. Mike felt his composure relax. Richie continued without being prompted. “I was going t-to propose next w-weekend.” Richie explained between splutters.

It was Mike’s turn to be speechless now.

“But of course, Mike Hanlon, always the romantic, has to do it on our fucking anniversary.” Richie’s tears were slowing down now, his usual demeanor coming back. “Now I’ll have to see if I can get my deposit back on the horse.”

“Horse…?”

“And I’ll have to call the bakery and cancel the cake order, hopefully the band will be able to find another gig on such short notice, Eddie and Bill are definitely going to have to return their costumes, and-”

“Baby, honey, slow down.” Mike’s gentle hands were cupping Richie’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Richie stopped immediately, closing his eyes and forcing himself to take a deep breath. When his eyes re-opened, they were teary again. “Can I at least say it?”

Mike’s heart felt like it would burst, his love for Richie so palpable in that moment.

“Of course.”

Richie cleared his throat and wiped his eyes as he stood up. He dramatically shook his limbs out one by one, cracking his neck side to side, and then turned back around to face Mike.

“Michael Hanlon. Michael the bicycle. Love of my life. Hopefully one day, bearer of my children. My best friend. My compadre. My-”

“Richie.” Mike cut him off with a laugh.

“Right, right. Sorry. Mike…” Richie got down on one knee, taking Mike’s hand between his own. “Will you marry me?”

Mike’s grin could have rivalled the sun. “Yes. Yesyesyes yes.” Mike rushed out.

“AND THERE WE HAVE IT FOLKS,” Richie let go of Mike’s hand and swiveled on his knees as if to address an invisible audience. He lifted both his hands in triumph. “DERRY’S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELORS ARE OFFICIALLY OFF THE MARKET FOR GOOD.”

Mike rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Richie’s torso and pulling him backwards. Richie came crashing down with an eruption of laughter, mixing along with Mike’s own. Mike didn’t waste any time beginning to pepper kisses down Richie’s neck, using his position to pull Richie flush against his chest.

Things heated up quickly. Kisses became more passionate, clothes were shed, and soon the two were left naked under the stars, the kindness of July keeping them warm and the flickering from the tiki torches lighting their hands’ paths. It wasn’t long before Richie was aching for more.

“Mikey…” Richie canted his hips upwards, ushering Mike’s hand, which was gripped around his cock, to move faster.

“Hold on baby, I’ve got you.” Mike twisted his body around uncomfortably to reach for the second picnic basket he’d packed. He opened it up with his free hand, his busy one never ceasing its job, and grabbed for the bottle of lube he’d packed.

The familiar sound of the cap popping open made Richie’s cock twitch.

“Oh my god, you really think of everything, don’t you.” Richie said excitedly.

“One of us has to.” Mike winked.

Richie spread his legs eagerly before Mike even had the chance to pour lube on to his fingers. The anticipation on Richie’s face egged him to move faster, his own eagerness becoming evident.

As Mike poured out a generous amount of the slick liquid into his hand, Richie grabbed one of the extra pillows and tucked it under his lower back, propping himself up on display. Mike nearly salivated at the view, never quite having gotten used to seeing Richie spread out, no matter how many times they did this.

Mike brought his lubricated hand up to Richie’s hole, circling a finger around the puckered muscle, teasing Richie before slipping his digit inside smoothly.

They’d fooled around only a few hours ago, stopping on the side of the road on their drive to Mike’s farm and squeezing into the back seat. Mike had fucked Richie until he’d cried, fingers desperately grabbing at the seats around him for some kind of leverage to ground himself. Richie came all over his shirt, causing them to have to dig their suitcases out of the trunk and wrestle out a clean one for him to change into.

Richie was still deliciously stretched from their afternoon activities, letting Mike slip in a second finger after only a few moments.

“You’re so beautiful like this, laid out bare for me…” Mike praised Richie who was breathing heavily beneath him.

Richie didn’t answer, just pushed his hips towards Mike to get his fingers as deep as possible. Mike found Richie’s prostate and stroked it lightly, eliciting a gorgeous moan.

“You can be as loud as you want.” Mike said, rubbing Richie’s prostate a little harder. “No one will hear you out here.”

It came out as a promise, assurance that he’d get Richie to the point where he couldn’t stay silent even if he tried. It sent goosebumps down Richie’s body.

A third finger was added, the stretch familiar and gentle. Richie felt warm, both from Mike’s body heat and desire kindling inside. They continued like that for a few more minutes, Mike pumping his hand steadily, teasing Richie’s prostate every time he thrust upwards. It was tantalizing.

“Please, Mikey…” Richie pleaded when it finally got to be too much. Mike pulled his hand away, watching Richie’s hole flutter around nothing. It was so pretty he took a moment to lean down and kiss it. Richie gasped at the unexpected contact, grinding his hips down against Mike’s face. Mike indulged him, kissing it with dirty flicks of his tongue. When he pulled away his face shone with lube.

“I could spend all night eating you out,” Mike stated, grabbing the lube and squirting a little extra into his hand. “but right now, I’d rather do this.” He rubbed the excess lube across his cock, coating it generously before lining himself up with Richie’s hole. He wasted no time before pushing in, shivering as the tightness enveloped him.

“Fuuuuuck-” Richie groaned wantonly.

Mike bottomed out, shifting his gaze from where they were connected and following the planes of Richie’s torso until their eyes met. Richie had his lower lip tucked between his teeth, as if trying to hold himself back, but upon meeting Mike’s gaze he let it drop.

“I can’t wait to be your husband.” Richie said sincerely.

“Me neither.” Mike smile tenderly. “But I am glad I get to show you off as my fiancé for a while.”

They both laughed, the movement jostling Mike inside Richie and reminding them of their current situation.

Mike pulled out slowly before easing himself back in at the same pace. He kept that rhythm as he continued.

“Everyone’s going to be jealous I get to marry the most affectionate, effervescent, passionate man in the whole world.”

“I’m the one who’s lucky,” Richie panted out between slow thrusts. “Getting to marry the most open-minded, kind-hearted, and hottest guy in town.”

Mike let out a burst of laughter, letting his head drop to Richie’s chest as a blush rose to his cheeks.

“I’m farthest from the hottest. That would be-”

“You’re right, it’s definitely Bill.” Richie interrupted with a breathless giggle.

Mike drew his head back and gasped dramatically.

“I was going to say you but…” Mike pretended to contemplate it. “Yeah, Denbrough could get it.”

They shared a smile. Mike loved Richie's ability to make any moment playful, even moments when Mike was buried to the hilt within him. This charismatic man, with the imagination of a child and the whimsy to match.

Mike picked up his pace, spurred on by his adoration, set on making Richie feel as good as he possibly could. The mewls he got in response were encouraging, so he continued swiveling his hips and propelling himself deeper with every thrust.

“That feel good, baby?” Mike purred into Richie’s ear, nipping his earlobe before descending to his neck.

A litany of curses was all Richie could manage in response, feeling himself climbing towards his peak.

Soon, curses were being split up by warning attempts. “Mike- fuckfuckfuck- I’m almost- holy shit yes don’t stop- I’m going to- jesus fucking christ-”

Mike knew that he was hitting the perfect spot. He didn’t dare move, no matter how much his arms were quivering, or his legs threatened to give out. He pumped forward once, twice, three times, and then the empty field was being filled with a throaty scream.

Richie’s fingernails left crescent moons where they dug into Mike’s arms, holding on for his dear life as he felt the waves of pleasure nearly drown him.

The feeling of Richie clenching around his cock did him in. As Mike joined Richie in his climax, he forced himself to keep his eyes open, never wanting to miss a moment of watching Richie come undone. He was so beautiful; pale skin, tinted pink from exertion and nearly transparent under the moonlight, thickly rimmed glasses sitting askew on his face, cum spread across his chest and pooling into his bellybutton. He looked so fragile, so small underneath Mike’s hold. Vulnerable in a way only Mike would ever see him.

Eventually they both regained their composure along with their breath. Mike pulled out of Richie slowly, watching as his own fluid follow him out of the tight confine, leaking onto Richie’s thighs and the pillow below him. Mike wanted to clean it up, dive in with his mouth and get Richie to cum all over again, but he knew there would be time to do that later.

They did, after-all, have forever ahead of them.

#hanzier #hanzier smut #hanzier fanfic #hanzier fanfiction #mike hanlon #richie tozier #it smut #it fanfic #my posts #my writing #softstanlonn #ask

22 notes · View notes

jae-bummer · 8 years ago

Text

Want

Request: #11 with Jaebum? :)

11) You live across the street from your bias group’s dorm and they still haven’t invested in curtains

Member: Got7′s JB x Y/N

Type: Fluff/smidge angst

You leaned further into the center of your desk, trying not to let your chin slide from your palm. It was close to midnight as you finally adjusted your gaze from your notebook and up to the window sitting just on the opposite side of your desk. The blinds were still wide open, your arms much too lazy to tug at the dangling string. You eyes danced across the glass, noting the smudges and tiny insect carcasses long since dried up on the outer screen. Eventually the blur of the outside world seemed to solidify as you became more in tune with the whir of the few cars intermingling on the road. Your eyes lifted from the street, focusing on the building only a stone’s throw away from yours. Seoul was small and quickly growing, so nothing was incredibly far apart, and the only way to grow was up. This also meant that you could see easily into the building facing yours.

You tilted your head, furrowing your brows a bit to see more clearly. The complex across the way was owned by the same property managers that owned your building, so you often saw it’s residents in passing at the communal mailboxes. The man you now saw lounging on the couch was someone you hadn’t recognized, but you weren’t surprised. It was widely known amongst the tenants that you had celebrities in your midst, idols to be exact. You had seen a few of them on occasion, incredibly good looking, even when in every day clothes and checking the mail.

This man was no exception.

As soon as your eyes laid on him, you knew his status. He was too handsome to be an average, every day citizen. No, he was definitely one of the idols rumored to coexist amongst you all.

You watched curiously as he chewed idly on shrimp chips. his hands deep in the bag while his eyes stayed glued on the television screen mounted to the wall. For a moment, you began to feel increasingly creepy, realizing you were in essence, casually stalking a neighbor. You quickly calmed your concerns as your eyes remained unmoved, realizing that if he moved his line of sight slightly to the left, he could see you just as clearly.

You lived in a culture of watching each other. What was the difference between googling this guy and pulling up his wikipedia page and watching him in live action?

Jaebum knew you were watching him again. He tried to keep the sly smile off of his face as he continued to glance at you from his peripherals. He knew you as Y/N of Apartment 1733. Student by day, barista by night, worried mess by late am. He knew more about you than he was happy to admit, but had also noticed you much sooner than you had him.

He tried to ignore you as you stood from your school work, dragging a tired hand through your hair. Much like him, you worked strange hours and never seemed to get enough rest. It made it convenient for him to monitor you from afar. You were very obviously one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen. You weren’t conventionally attractive or cookie cutter, but that’s what enticed him. You were unique and authentically you.

Jaebum openly turned, setting his attention on your window as you paced behind your desk chair. He had never been affected by a girl in this way before, so his thoughts were in a flurry. Usually his naturally cold and serious nature, which his members noted as “chic and sexy,” was enough to catch any girls attention. He had never been one to struggle with smooth pick up lines or come up with a plan, but they had never existed in a completely opposing space before.

As he noticed you begin your nightly rituals, signifying you were going to bed soon, he began to panic. He needed to catch your attention and fast. He stood, with shaking hands and a pounding heart and quickly began to disrobe. He pulled off his hoodie and t shirt and slithered from his jeans. He only stopped once he was in his boxer briefs and tank top. He sauntered to the window, still lacking curtains even though he had lived there for months. He gave a good stretch and waited patiently. Maybe it was a last ditch effort, using his body and it’s lack of clothing to entice you, but hey, when words failed, who’s to say that visuals would?

You stretched above your books, attempting to get ahold of the string dangling above your blinds. You looked up for a moment, nearly choking as you caught sight of him. The mysterious idol you had been keeping an eye on had appeared closer to the glass separating the two of you, near naked.

You traced up his features. Your eyes started at his toned calves, rippling under the pressure of his thick thighs. Both sat beneath his impressive bulge, which your eyes were quickly drawn to. They lingered there for a moment as you finally looked up, tracing the thin cotton of his tank top. Next you noticed his broad shoulders, only to go back down and focus on his veiny biceps and forearms. After you were content with your inspection, you let out a pleasant sigh, forcing yourself to acknowledge his handsome face.

You audibly swallowed as you were suddenly overtaken by the feeling of being watched. You stared in horror as you realized, he was watching you just as closely as you were him…and he was actually chuckling.

You cringed as you began to walk up to the small mail area in your apartment complex, trying to decide if you wanted to turn on the spot and jog back upstairs. You were mortified by the broad shoulders you had grown familiar with in the past few weeks, too accustomed with who they belonged to without having to say a word.

Instead of running, you decided to tiptoe quietly behind him, making yourself as small as you possibly could as you slid your key into the lock of your box. Of course the universe, which had let you quietly exist for so long, would not allow you to do that now.

“Hey,” his deep voice said softly.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to decide what to do. You reopened them, turning to look your neighbor directly into the eyes. He was already smiling at you, a grin that was very obviously trying to hide a chuckle behind his lips.

“Hi,” you breathed shortly, averting your gaze back to the mailbox.

“I don’t know if we’ve met. I’m Im Jaebum,” he hummed with a bow.

“Not technically,” you groaned, slamming your box shut and pointing to the label on the front. “I’m Y/N. 1733, but I think you know that already?”

Jaebum’s face fell for a moment, completely caught off guard by your comment. It took a few seconds, but a smirk found his mouth again as he searched your face. “I’m used to an audience.”

“Ugh,” you moaned as you turned, ready to escape back upstairs.

“Wait, Y/N!” he called, his voice urgent. You immediately stopped and looked over your shoulder.

“What?”

“I hope I can keep your attention.”

Jaebum slung his arm halfheartedly around the random girl’s shoulders. He had already forgotten her name and was pretty bored with the conversation she presented, but it has been almost a month. Almost a month since he had pulled his stunt and finally made eye contact. A month since he had ran into you getting the mail and tried to continue contact. A month since you had given him even more fuel to continue his quest. He had a plan.

And admittedly, it was a shitty one.

After he thoroughly disgusted you and caused you to flee upstairs, he immediately kicked himself. The envelopes nestled between his knuckles became crumpled with frustration. Why couldn’t he have just asked you out for coffee or something?

Then again, maybe it was too late for that.

He looked up lazily from his date’s face and to the window, making careful note that your blinds were open, a sight he hadn’t seen in weeks. His next stunt could either ruin that or send you back his way. He wasn’t certain yet. His brows lifted as he saw your familiar frame plop into the chair situated directly before your window. You cast a wary eye his way, freezing as you saw his date on the couch.

Jaebum took a deep breath as he pulled his date closer. Lindsey? Luna? Lynn? Whatever her name was he needed to act quickly. If he were going to make you jealous it better be before you closed the blinds. He grabbed at the back of her neck, holding her steady and halting her words. Without any coaxing she leaned into him, closing her eyes in preparation for a kiss. Jaebum’s eyes searched her face, uncertainty filling his veins. He remained still, unsure if he could actually go through with it. He looked over his date’s shoulder and back to your window. You were still watching.

Jaebum shook his head, muttering a quiet curse as he let go of the girl’s neck and fell back onto the couch. He ran a wary hand through his hair and groaned. “Get out.”

Once again, the dim girl rolled with his punches, standing and collecting her things. After she had left the dorm, he sighed, looking up toward your window again. He was ashamed of his actions and sick of playing games.

He was ending it now.

You furrowed your brows and squinted, continuing to watch Jaebum scramble around his apartment. He had just kicked out a girl prettier than you could ever be and now seemed to be drunkenly tearing apart his dorm. It was strange, but so was this whole situation.

After a few moments, JB finally halted his motions and stopped in front of the window where he made eye contact. He beat on the glass to further catch your attention. You gave a brief nod, signaling that you were engaged with the exchange. He immediately pointed to the street and hurried toward what you thought to be his front door where he stepped out into the hallway.

You heaved a sigh as you slipped on your shoes and tugged on a jacket, you couldn’t believe you were humoring him.

You reached the street before he did, tapping your foot as you waited impatiently near a street lamp. The road was quiet tonight, only hosting the occasional car down it’s pavement. You sighed again, checking your phone before you looked up, jumping at the sight of Jaebum as he had appeared directly across the street from you.

You lifted your brows, shrugging at him.

“I couldn’t do it,” he called out, his voice carrying just enough to be heard over the sounds of the city.

“It or her?” you yelled back, rolling your eyes.

“I wanted to kiss you,” he whined, the noise sounded foreign to even himself as it escaped his lips.

“You don’t even know me,” you called.

“I want to,” he shouted. He nodded with a hopeful smile. “So then I can kiss you.”

My sweet @novaurora13 aka @beesoo13 provided me all the plot for this prompt, so make sure to send that cutie some love

#im jaebum #jaebum #jb #got7 #got7 jb #jaebum fluff #jaebum angst #jaebum scenario #jaebum drabble #jaebum oneshot #jaebum fanfic #dating jaebum #boyfriend jaebum #got7 scenario #got7 drabble #got7 oneshot #got7 fanfic #dating got7 #boyfriend got7

301 notes · View notes

luvvvlydeannnn · 6 years ago

Text

The ‘Hunting Club’ Ch. 1

Authors Note: Alright y'all, so this is my first time ever making ‘fan-fic’ so I am soooooo sorry if my writing is trash, but Im kinda new to this, so go easy on me please.

Summary: Jess meets Sam and Dean Winchester, after attempting to join their dads hunting club. After helping Sam and Dean find John, they team up to find what killed their mom.

Pairing(s): Not a single one

Word Count: 2883

Warning(s): terrible writing skills (:

‘Hello, I’m Jess Colt, I’m 23 and I’m a hunter. I’ve been hunting for forever and a day. Basically since the day I learned to walk. I first shot a gun when I was three, and I killed my first monster at nine. My dad raised me alongside my two brothers, Axel and Van. We moved from town to town. Crappy motel to crappier motel. There was no ‘home’ for me, not then, not now, but i’m always working towards that. I’ve lost more than I’ve gained and all I really got now is family. Which I’d do anything to keep. My eldest brother, Van (24) is currently helping me keep up the ‘family business’ and my younger brother Axel (18) is away at college trying to escape the life. I understand you guys aren’t open to newcomers but i’d like for you to give Van and I a chance. No one really ever has. I understand if you toss this in the trash after reading it, but if there is even a sliver of a chance that we’d be right for your posey then please give me a call at 867-555-5309’

I re-read the letter I’d written so long ago to the people I now called family. I remember feeling so embarrassed after mailing it, I was practically begging them to let me in their club. I convinced myself that thousands of people probably sent them letters, and that mine would never be read, just sat in a pile with all of the others. But I was damn wrong.

7 years ago

“Jess, what the hell are you doing?” Van said asked me, as he watched me write the letter.

“I’m trying to get us into this hunting club, okay. Bobby Singer, John Winchester, Rufus Turner, The Harvelles, every legendary hunter is in the club Van. If we get in we might finally have someone to rely on other than ourselves.” I said hinting on the fact we hadn’t seen our father since the day we drove Ax to college.

“You do realize that they probably won’t let us in. We’re outsiders. Besides we’ve never hunted with anyone in that group other than Bobby, and that’s only because Bobby was working the same case we were. And Jess hunters aren’t very hospitable, hell if you even look at them wrong you’re as good as dead.” chuckling to himself, he knew that he could be considered one of those and he didn’t mind a bit.

“Well, I’m done anyways. I’m sending in this letter and we can get back to finding a case. If they call, they call. If they don’t, they don’t.” I said acting like I didn’t care, not even the slightest.

“Whatever you say dork, I already found a case by the way. Guess where?”

“Vegas?” He shook his head, while laughing. Vegas was always my first guess:

“Dallas?” He shook his head again.

“Where?” I had a snowballs chance of guessing where the hell he’d found a case, it was very quiet lately and we hadn’t been on a solid case in forever it felt like.

“Jericho, California”

“How the hell was I supposed to guess that?”

“Telepathy, maybe. I thought you were a hunter jess.” Van said pushing my shoulder while snickering to himself.

“Alright bitch, when are we leaving?” I asked rolling my eyes, shooting him the bird when he turned his back to me.

“If you want to, we can leave now. I really want to get out there and see what the hell is going on. We haven’t had a good hunt since… well you know.”

“Yeah, maybe we can convince the kid to come with us. The weekends coming up and we’re already driving to California. He told me he missed hunting when I called him last night.”

I knew he wanted to see our brother, hell I wanted to see him too. We practically raised the kid, fed him, taught him all the important shit and made sure he knew the ins and outs of everything hunting related. But we both knew we’d be over stepping our boundaries. The kid was starting a new life, an apple pie life. If we walked into it after the first six months and asked him if he wanted to go on a hunt he’d look at us like we were crazy. I knew he’d come with us, he loved hunting but he also wanted something we could never give him, a home. But selfish as we always were, we were still going to try and suck him back into our lives.

“Yeah he’s been telling me to call him if we get a hunt in the area”, he said packing his bag in an unorganized fashion.

“You ready to hit the road?” I asked happily, ready to see my brother after six months.

“Hell yeah!”

And like that we sped off. We finally got to Palo Alto the day before halloween. Of course like the idiots we were we had to sneak up on Ax as he was walking out of a class. We nearly scared the shit out of him, and Van ended up getting punched in the face, while I just got a hug and some brotherly love. We sat down and had lunch with Axel, we reminisced on the good times and everything under the sun, like we hadn’t seen each other in years. By the time lunch was over he was begging to know why we were visiting after just six months.

“We were rolling through California on a hunt, and since you were practically begging to jump back on the horse we decided that we could use an extra hand on this hunt.” Van said nonchalantly, like he hadn’t missed him.

“Plus we missed you. Vans been acting stupid lately and I have no one to out-stupid him” I said, lightly punching Ax on the shoulder.

“Well, I have been waiting to get back on the horse. It’s been a while and my skills aren’t getting that rusty, so I guess I could help you, I mean if you really needed it.” looking at Van who’d mentioned that we could use a ‘little help’.

“Alright Ax, we really need your help.” Van mumbled rolling his eyes.

“Then I guess I can help. When do we head out?” Axel asked excitedly, we could see from the look in his eyes that he was ready to hunt again.

“We thought about leaving tonight, but if you have something you want to do tomorrow we can head out tomorrow night.” I stated, knowing my brother had a life from all the late nights he’d called me talking about the girls he’d hooked up with.

“Yeah, my friend Sam. He invited me to a halloween party, and I sort of told him I would. But… I can call him and tell him that I’m going on a hunt.” Axel said lowly, almost mumbling it.

“Hold up… have you been telling people that you’re a hunter.” Van said in barely a whisper, almost scolding Ax.

“No man, Sam is the only person that knows I’m a hunter, and the only reason he knows is because he’s a hunter too.”

“Wait… what’s Sams last name?” I asked, wondering if it was the same Sam that I thought it was. “Winchester.”

“Shit, he’s John Winchester's boy, Van.”

“Alright, call Sam and tell him that you’re heading up to Jericho for a hunt and that you won’t be able to make it to his Halloween party then.”

Axel finally called Sam when we had left Palo Alto, Sam said that he’d hold down the fort and everything should be ‘aye okay’. We finally got to Jericho around 4 AM that morning, we checked into a motel not too far outside of town under the alias Leigh Foxx and began our search. We didn’t come by much other than a few ‘missing’ signs. We talked to the girlfriend of the guy who went missing and she told us that she talked to him not too long before he disappeared. And that he said he’d “be home shortly”, but she got worried when he never showed that night. The cops showed up at her door in the early hours of the day before and told her that her boyfriend was missing. They’d found his car on the side of the road, but it was like he was never even there. No blood, no signs of a struggle it was just like he took off. Van asked her if she thought he’d just take off and she said “he’s not that type of man, we were going to get married in two months, he was so excited for it.” So there we were, no clues, not even a smidge of evidence. So what did we do? We searched through local legends. Found anything that we could possibly find and start building a case off of that. By the time we had gathered a few local legends regarding the disappearance of men it was time to hit the hay. We woke up the next morning and headed towards town, when we noticed a group of police officers looking at a car. We got out to investigate what was happening grabbing our Federal Marshal badges.

“Who are you?” asked the officer there already, he was wearing a shit eating grin, probably about to bust us if we even looked at him wrong.

“Federal Marshals. Agents Corrleone and Vito” we each flashed our badges.

“No I mean, who is he? Kid can’t be old enough to be a marshal, looks like he’s fresh out of highschool.”

“Yeah, his father works down at the bureau. He wants to be a Marshal so, he gets to tag along with us.” Van said in an annoyed voice.

“Well I don’t know why you three are here, there are two more marshals up ahead.”

“Oh, well I’m sure they’ll fill us in later. I really wish the office would get this straightened out, it seems like everywhere we go there are a billion other marshals doing our job.” I said in a fake annoyed voice.

With that, we walked back to our car and waited to see who those ‘federal marshals’ were, they were obviously imposters due to the looks of the black impala they were driving, no way the bureau would approve of that.

When they began walking back Axel said that he recognized one of the men. When they began walking toward their car we got out and walked over. The one that Ax recognized must have recognized him too because he came jogging towards us.

“Hey Sam. You guys find anything out?” Ax said softly to the man so the other officers wouldn’t overhear him.

“Nah, not much other than another guy disappearing. This your family?”

“Yep, Jess and Van.” Ax said pointing to each of us as he said our names.

“Sam Winchester right?” I said holding out a hand for him to shake, Van doing the same.

He shook my hand and smiled, “yep that’s me and this is my brother Dean” he said motioning to the man on the other side of the car.

I walked over and shook his hand, “Hi, I’m Jess.”

“Dean.” “You guys find anything out about the disappearances?”

“Not a damn thing. No evidence, no clues, not even a damn hangnail.” “Shit. Well were going to head on over to the diner in town and grab some grub if y’all want to tag along.” “Sounds good to me. I could use a good burger.”

Just then Van walked over, “Ax invited Sam to go eat, you up for that?”

“Hell yeah.” I said looking at Van. “Dean, this is my brother Van. Van this is Dean, Sams brother.”

“Hey man.” Van said reaching his hand out to shake Deans.

We all got into our cars and headed for the diner in town.

We all walked into the diner and sat at a booth in the back. The waitress took our orders and got them back to us quickly. When we finished our meal we began to talk about the case and the connections.

“We know that all of the victims were male, and were on centennial at their time of death. We found some local legends, some of them about women in white along the highway. You think they could be connected?” I asked questioning the guys

“I don’t know, we can look further into it” Dean said nonchalantly.

Well, we did look into it and it turns out they were as full scale as I’d always heard. We quickly wrapped up the hunt, there were a few bumps in the road though. Especially the almost dying part, apparently Constance also goes for unfaithful women too. After finishing up the hunt, we all hauled ass back to Stanford, because Axel was too much of a nerd to miss a class.

We finally pulled up outside of Axels apartment after around four hours of driving, when we saw a shit ton of firefighters exiting his building.

“Stop!” yelled Axel. We stopped and parked behind a black impala that Axel seemed to recognize. “That’s Sam” he said motioning toward the tall fellow standing behind the car, and that’s his apartment Ax said pointing to the top floor.

We all got out of the car and walked over to the two fairly large men standing near the impala

“Sam, what happened man?” asked Axel. “I don’t know, I came home and Jess was on the ceiling… on fire” Sam then broke down, so I pulled Dean off to the side while my brother talked his friend through what happened. What happened to this girl sounded like what happened to our mother, the story was way too similar.

“Who’s Jess?” I asked Dean.

“Jess is his girlfriend.” “He said she was on the ceiling, on fire?” I asked flabbergasted at the remarkable similarity between my mother's death and the death of this woman Jess.

“That’s what he said, he could be mistaken though.”

“No, I highly doubt that. Your mother died in a nursery fire, today if I’m not mistaken. Right? Well my mother died the exact same way.” “Yeah, how do you know that?” “Growing up I heard about the Winchester case nonstop. Why the mothers of children were spontaneously combusting on ceilings of nurseries, six months after their children were born. Why my mother was caught in the crossfire of demonic activity.”

“Shit, that is right, my dad told me about your mom growing up too.”

“I don’t know, but this does seem hairy to you, right? Two women that Sam loves dying six months after his birthday. I’m not saying it’s Sams fault but what if it’s after Sam?”

Van must have overheard the chat that we were having on the deaths of our mothers because he began walking over.

“So what were you saying about mom?”

“You know how dad used to talk about the Winchester case, whenever he mentioned moms death and what he thought was behind it?”

“Yeah, and what does that have to do with this?” Van asked confused

“Jess, she burned on the ceiling.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t in a nursery or six months after the birth of a child.”

“Yeah, well Sam’s birthday was six months ago.”

“Our mom died the exact same way your mom and Jess died” Dean chimed in.

“Shit…. Do you guys actually think..?” Van realized there were too many connections.

“I don’t know.” I said shrugging my shoulders along with Dean.

Van and I exchanged numbers with Dean and told him to call us if Sam and him needed help. When Van walked away I apologized for what happened to his brother.

“I’m sorry for jumping on you like that, when Sam said Jess was on the ceiling, on fire, it all just kinda clicked. And I’m sorry for what happened to Sam.”

“Jess it’s fine, I understand. It just shows that whatever killed our moms is coming back for something.”

“Yeah, I hope it doesn’t involve Sam. That kids already been through enough.”

“Tell me about it.” Dean said rubbing a hand over his face.

“Well now that Van and I have gotten a taste of what killed our mother, I know he’s going to want to go after it. If you want to tag along you can, we can always use help. I know that you’re going to have to look after Sam for a while, but whenever you’re ready to get some revenge on this mother just call me.”

“Alright, I will.”

“Take care Dean.” I said walking towards the car.

I got into the driver's seat and looked at Axell, “so what do you want to do man?”

“I want to kill this mother.” Axel stated

“Alright, so are you coming with us or…?” Van asked

“I sure as hell ain’t staying here.”

“Well let’s head out.” I said as we pulled off.

In a series of 3 days so much has happened. I got my brother back, but I knew things would never be the same, we’d gotten a whiff of what took our mother as well as our childhood and we weren’t letting it go. Not until it was gone.

#supernatural #fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester

0 notes