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bahrtofane · 9 months ago

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Jude misses his spanish class, and that somehow ends with the both of you stuck in a dark elevator, legs tangled and annoying each other till help comes

Word count - 3.5K+

Watch it - ur trapped in an elevator with jude, lights go out, you accidentally sock him, fluff tho hehehe

a/n - shout out to my bff best plooki for sending me the last jude pic, its what inspired this whole thing. nmout 3lik kho

—--

Jude is late to spanish class (again) so he's forced to sit for the staff ones instead. his mom will kill him if he misses any more, and his teammates will only tease him more. With the amount of promotional content and youtube videos he has to film soon, he literally doesn’t have the time to skip another class.

The only open seat is by you in the far corner, so he slides in as discreetly as he can. Which turns out isn’t all that discrete when all eyes are on him from the moment he steps into the room but it’s whatever. He'll live.

He pulls out his ipad and takes notes like the good student he is and pretends not to notice your gaze on him. He sits like such a teenage boy, legs spread and arms dangling over the table.

You haven’t been with Madrid all that long, you came along as an intern, eager to find your footing. Having one of the players all up next to you during class was not something you saw coming, you’ve met maybe one or two of them, after you got lost and ended up in the training facilities and they so graciously led the way out of the maze.

You’ve honestly been so busy with just getting settled you completely forgot the players existed. And here Jude is.

You stick your head back to your notes and hunker down for the hour left of spanish. You don't miss his stray gazes that land on you.

-----

Jude is a quiet guy you learn. He chews his bottom lip and blinks a little harshly at times. He's a pretty standard run of the mill guy and you try to treat him as such. He leaves you be, letting you have your space and pays attention to whatever the professor is saying in favor of talking to anyone.

When class is over you gather your things, slipping out from behind him and head to the elevator. Why the class is on the top floor you have yet to figure out. You like this elevator anyway, it's down the hall from the main big one that everyone crowds into, usually empty. Even though it lacks the big windows that overlook the pitches.

You see Jude jog to the elevator, you slide your hand out ,holding the doors open for him and he smiles at you in thanks, you smile back. It's silent save the hum of the elevator moving down.

Until it screeches to a halt, jolting the both of you so fast you land on the floor, legs tangled, things strewn all over the floor. Jude looks away while he picks himself up, helping track down your pens that roll across the floor. When you smooth your clothes down and find your footing, another jolt rocks the small metal box you're in.

Jude instinctively reaches out to steady himself, his hand landing on the railing beside you. You lurch forward and almost land right on him again. But you manage to keep your composure, and footing. Thank god.

"What in the world?" Jude asks, brows furrowing.

"I... I'm not sure," you reply, your heart still racing from the amusement park ride you never signed up for. Does Madrid not keep their elevators up to date on what is going on.

You both glance around the elevator, trying to assess the situation, and half waiting for another lurch. It's eerily quiet, and you notice the emergency button panel is dimly lit.

"Should we... press the emergency button?" you suggest tentatively, eyeing the panel.

"Probably our best bet" Jude agrees, reaching out to press the button. After a moment, a crackly voice comes through the intercom,

"Hello? Is someone in need of assistance?" a nasally voice comes to life. She sounds like your aunt kinda.

"Yeah, the elevator stopped suddenly, and we're not sure what's going on," Jude explains.

“Ah okay, which elevator? There should be a number and letter over the doors.”

“2C.” you real aloud.

"Perfect thank you. We’ll have people get to you as soon as we can. Please remain calm and stay where you are," the voice responds before the intercom falls silent again.

You exchange a look with Jude, both of you silently hoping that help arrives soon. The minutes tick by slowly, and the silence in the elevator becomes almost suffocating.

"So... Do you have any plans for after this?" Jude asks, breaking the silence. Even if its a little awkward.

You shake your head, grateful for the distraction. "Not really. Just some studying, I guess. What about you?"

Jude shrugs. "Probably just head back to my place if they don't need me. Training was pretty intense this morning."

You nod, "Sounds hectic."

"Yeah, it can be," Jude admits, scratching the back of his neck. "But it comes with the territory, I guess.

You fall into a silence again, playing with the hem of your shirt. Jude tucks his ipad under his arm and sighs deeply. Now that you take a good look at him, it looks like he booked it right from training. Slides and socks on, madrid shirt and shorts. Interesting.

You move to push the button again after what feels like ages, but this time the voice doesn't answer.

“What the..” you mumble. You reach for your phone but as luck would have it there is no connection.

Jude slides to the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce and trying his luck on his phone.

“No signal either huh.” he grumbles.

“Nope, we really just have to wait on them then.”

“I hope they hurry it up, no offense.”

You shrug, ”none taken.” sliding to take a seat on the floor opposite to him.

Little do you know you're about to spend the next 4 hours in this elevator together.

—-

It turns out there is only so much small talk you can make in an hour with a total stranger. Trust, you know.

After telling your life story, and him his, you’ve both run out of things to say. So you sit, drumming against the metal walls, taking turns pressing the help button and being greeted with the sweet sound of silence each time.

“What the actual hell are they doing.” Jude groans.

“Ignoring us.”

You just might lose your mind. Your legs are starting to go numb, and you watch Jude grow more agitated as time presses on. Thankfully there's been no more lurches downward, a win is a win. You get up periodically to stretch your legs out, checking your phone, reorganizing your bag, playing rock paper scissors, telling each other stories.

Jude is a silly guy, very competitive even after your 10th round of tic tac toe.

“I win again.” He cackles.

You wave him off, “Yeah yeah it’s just luck.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he smiles.

He goes back to the red button, and once again there’s no answer. You’re half way to losing your mind. How do they just forget about you here? You try texting people, and nothing goes through. Jude walks around the little space, arm raised and pointing his phone up in hopes of catching a signal.

“Oh wait I think- never mind. Not even one bar will hold in here.” He slumps back down against the wall.

“I actually can’t believe they’re not answering.” You groan, head in your hands.

“Me neither. “

You resort to looking through your phone for any games to pass the time. But you need a signal for just about all of them. Might as well clear out your photos right? Jude joins, scooting next to you.

“Don't mind if I watch?”

You shake you head, “nah, just getting rid of old pictures.”

He nods.

Now you just have to be triple careful of not accidentally swiping through any embarrassing pictures. You don't thankfully, instead your room back home pops up, after you redecorated it. Zidane jersey hanging off your wall.

Jude perks up at this, “Zidane fan?”

“Very big one.”

He smiles, “me too.”

“I've heard. What's he like?”

“Zidane? Hm, he's well, elegant. Classy. He's a calm guy.”

You nod, tucking your phone back inside your pocket, turning to face him, “have you seen him play in a charity match with ronaldo?”

He laughs ,”yeah the one with that insane title, fat old ronaldo does hat trick.”

You giggle, “that's the one.”

He hums, leaning his head back on the wall and you fall into silence again.

More time passes and you don’t think you have it in you to reorganize your bag for another time.

“I have an idea.” you declare as you move into the second hour.

Jude raises a brow.

“Might as well do our Spanish homework right?”

“I might die.” he dead pans.

You roll your eyes, “its better than doing nothing.”

“Nu uh, no way. I choose nothing.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrug.

10 minutes later Jude sits down next to, pulling his ipad out and getting to work. You smile, “see, I told you.”

“Yeah yeah,” he grumbles, “can you help me on number 4?”

You do, leaning against him and walking him through the conjugation of each word, your fingers brush against the iPad screen and you hope he doesn't notice how you blush.

Hours in an elevator with Jude bellingham what is this a bad fanfic plot?

You end up finish the pages of homework side by side and Jude smiles

“That wasn't half bad actually, thanks for the help.”

“No problem. We make a pretty good team huh?” you tease.

He snorts, “I guess so.”

It turns out Jude is really bad at staying in once place, he does anything but keep still, throwing his slides at the buttons periodically, and one even hits the help button, this time the voice answers.

“Hello?” it's a completely different voice his time, male.

“Thank god hello.” Jude scrambles to get up properly, and you follow suit, leaning closer to the little speaker.

“I'm sorry?”

“We've been in this elevator for what, 2 hours now and no ones been answering the call button? Fucking ridiculous.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience, we've been short staffed and I clocked in a few minutes ago.”

“For fucks sake, thats great and all but can you get us out?”

There's a pause, and for a second you think they're going to hang up and there will be no hope. You will die in this elevator.

Luckily for you the voice comes to life again, “would you like us to call the fire department?”

“What do you think?” Jude dead pans.

“We will keep you updated, but for now it's looking like a wait time of 45 minutes to an hour. “

Both of you groan, dramatically falling to the floor.

“You'd think Madrid would have better staffing,” he rubs his eyes.

“You think.” you agree.

“Im so gonna complain about this.” he squints his eyes at the buttons, almost like he's threatening them.

“Hey it could be worse, you could have missed a game.”

“Very true.”

He chews his lip before turning to you, a glint in his eyes, “Wanna play hot hands?” he tries.

“Sure why not.”

You shuffle so you're facing him once again, You're up first, palms up while Jude hovers his hands palm down over yours, and wow are his hands huge, completely covering your own. The name of the game is to manage to slap his hands faster than he can move them away.

And so it begins.

Unsurprisingly, Jude has keen reflexes, and you only shake your head at him.

“I'm at an unfair disadvantage, whereas VAR.”

He giggles, “VAR or no var, you're losing,” he shrugs.

It's just enough of a distraction to get you your first win.

“Lets gooo.” you celebrate.

“VAR immediately, time wasting, yellow card, red card, extra time.”

You smile, “you're just mad I won.”

“Yeah you won unfairly. “He sulks.

“Yeah yeah, your turn.”

He sighs dramatically, but puts his palms up regardless.

You're too focused on his hands, skittering at any movement, so much so you end up jumping and throwing your hands out so fast you slap him. Uh oh.

“Oh my god i'm so sorry, are you okay.” you reach out and cradle his face, a little red but nothing too bad thank god. You almost took out Madrid's star boy, you're just an intern, you do NOT have the money to fund any legal cases.

You don't even notice he's laughing, giggles bursting from his lips while you watch on. His eyes are big, oh my god, he's got those big brown beautiful eyes. People weren't kidding. He's even more handsome in person. You want to kiss him. Oh yeah you're holding his face, you drop your hands away and roll your eyes, trying to play off the blush that's spanning your face.

“I'm fine, don't worry. You got a mean arm, ever think of being a goalie?” he teases.

“I'm going to be Barcas goalie. How about that.” you shoot back, though there's no real bite to your words.

He only laughs harder, “hot hands really makes you competitive huh.”

“It wasn't my fault okay, you moved too fast.”

He only shakes his head, “I think you're the sore loser.”

“No but seriously, are you good?”

He waves you off, “nah i'm good seriously, you're fine.”

You sigh in relief.

He snorts, “no more hot hands for you.”

You squint at him, “I'm going to sleep.”

You make a pillow out of your bag and try to nap. Might as well at this point. Jude seems to share a similar idea as he lays down opposite to you, tucking his arms under him and screwing his eyes shut.

It turns out sleeping on the floor on an elevator is extremely uncomfortable, and you get about 5 minutes of shut eye before Jude somehow has his legs rolled into yours.

“ ‘M Sorry,” he mumbles. But you don't say anything, wiggling your feet back under his and trying to get some shut eye.

—--

At the turning of the third hour you get woken up by the crackle of the magic voice in the wall, “the wait is up about an hour to an hour and a half.”

“What's taking so long,” you huff, eyes still blurry from your sleep.

“We apologize for the delay but there's a back up in call logs and-”

“Yeah we get it you're understaffed whatever. Just please hurry up.” Jude bites back, nearing closer and closer to you.

The voice fizzles away and the sleep has worn off you, enough so to realize he's almost spooning you. You sit up, but Jude remains as he is, breathing soundly as he uses his hands to cover the harsh elevator lights that beat down on him. You're surprised the lights haven't-

You spoke too soon. Way way too soon. The lights go out within an instant and you almost scream, jolting against Jude.

This stirs him awake again, and he's oh so confused at the lack of lights. The secondary elevators are great, but there are no windows. Just solid metal on all ends. Leaving the two of you in complete darkness.

“Jude?’

You hear shuffling, “Yeah, I'm right here don't worry. “

“This is kinda freaky now.” you trail off.

“Hey, we'll be fine. Look on the bright side, it's easier to sleep.”

You snort, “Yeah guess so,” But the ease doesn't wear off of you.

“Here,” you feel Jude’s hands reach for yours. Feeling for them in the darkness till they're laced together. “Now it's not so bad right?”

You can feel your face heat up,“Not bad at all.”

“How sick would hot hands in the dark be? Just think-”

“Absolutely not.” you sigh.

He giggles again, teasing you is surprisingly very very fun for him. This is the most fun he's had all day. Every time you turn away while you blush only fuels him to tease you more. Out of all the people to be stuck in here with, he thinks he got pretty lucky with it being you.

But as sweet as you are, the situation only seems to get worse. He uses his free hand to feel for the button again, and the voice comes back.

“The lights just went off. I hope they're on their way.“ Jude speaks.

“The wait is about an hour.” the speaker says.

“My fucking god.” he sighs.

“Were supposed to wait in the dark, for an hour?” you can't believe it.

The voice mumbles another apology and Jude only tells them to go away if they’re going to be completely and utterly useless. And alone you two go.

—-

You start singing by the fourth hour. You're completely tangled in Jude’s legs, unable to even see what's in front of you in the pitch black darkness, but you can feel him. And it keeps you grounded, keeps away the panic. He pats your back while he sings stupid songs, trying to cheer you up and mind off of the situation as much as he can. The teasing doesn't stop, and you're starting to like it. (You liked it from the beginning).

If someone told you you'd be cuddling Jude Bellingham on the floor of an elevator in the darkness after class, you're pretty sure you'd call the nearest psych ward. But here you are. You think you’re sitting sideways on his lap, while he sits back to the wall, your arms tangled. You've started to trace shapes on his arms.

Who knew an elevator would be the perfect place to bond.

“You smell nice.” Jude mumbles into the crook of your neck.

You hum,” thank you.”

“You know, this is pretty nice. You're a good cuddler.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. my rooms a better spot though.”

You try not to freeze up too much, but you're sure he can feel you go rigid next to him.

“I bet it is,” you mumble into his shoulder

He laughs, easy and light, “You’re pretty cute too.”

“You cant even see me it's literally pitch black in here.”

“So?”

“You're silly Jude.”

“So i've been told”

You get comfy again, sliding a hand to his back and scratching lightly.

He melts within an instant, “that actually feels really nice…” he trails off, leaning against your shoulder.

“You’re like an overgrown puppy, “ you laugh.

He only snorts, leaning forward to allow you better access to his back.

—--

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the voice comes to life, and Jude is not in the mood.

“What is it?”

“The wait is now 10 to 15 minutes, please step back from the doors and do not be alarmed when the fire department needs to possibly force the doors open.”

“Finally.” You sigh, squishing your face into his neck.

“Finally.” He confirms.

After a few minutes. You hear the sound of footsteps outside the elevator and voices chattering.

“Alright guys, sit tight, should be a few minutes and you’ll be outta here.” A voice says on the other end.

“Alright.” Jude replies, gently getting up and separating from you.

“We’re gonna need you guys to step back.”

You do as much, trying to feel for your bag to kick it away from the door.

Jude rests a hand on your hip and you smile, even if you can't see it you bet he's doing the same.

The doors are manually pried open, and you're greeted by the sweet sweet faces of firemen and security.

"Are you two okay?" the fireman asks, helping you both out of the elevator.

"Yeah, we're fine. Just glad to be out of there," you say with a sigh of relief.

As you step out into the hallway, you and Jude exchange grateful smiles. Unsurprisingly people crowd to him and make sure he's all good. He waves them off instead pointing them in your direction. You insist you're all good, no injuries. After thanking everyone you slip away and begin walking down the hall. After all, you don't expect him to actually mean anything there. You just got stuck together for a while, and got comfortable. That's all.

You think this is the 4th floor? Down the stairs you go.

The man is full of surprises. He catches up to you, shouting your name and closing the door to the stairs behind him.

“Had enough of me?”

“Eh four hours seems like enough.” you shrug.

He rolls his eyes, “so you don't give me your number then if i ask?”

“Only if you ask nicely. And I don't even have a Spanish number yet, I'll have to get yours.”

(you want his number sooo bad you might explode, this can't be real.)

“Would you like to get my number then?” he scratches the back of his neck, suddenly shy, ‘only if you want you know you don't have to just because the whole elevator thing i mean-”

You cut him off with a kiss to the check, “I'd love to get your number Jude. And thanks for being so nice in there.”

He looks to the ground, playing with his hands, “yeah anytime.”

You hand him your phone and he takes a contact picture right there, with the most obnoxious contact name to match.

‘the best elevator buddy Jude <3��

You smile, “I'll text you when I can, yeah?”

He hums, waving you off, slipping the door open with his foot and setting off in the opposite direction. What a day huh?

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gb-patch · 11 months ago

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GB Patch Games: 2024 Intentions

[Adorable guest art by @dreamtydraw]

Welcome to 2024, everybody 🥳️

This is the year of Our Life: Now & Forever (and 2025 will be too, but let's not get ahead of ourselves that much). After a good five odd years of making Our Life: Beginnings & Always content, it's amazing to look ahead and see only the progress that will be done on this new game. Qiu and Tamarack are the center of the GB Patch Games universe now. But even though I'm not creating any new OL1 scenes, there may still be some exciting developments for the existing stuff. Cove hasn't been forgotten.

💚❤️️💙

If you want to know about what will be accomplished specifically in January, you can read that HERE. Now here's the entire year's goals-

Honestly, 2024 is gonna be the most basic year in a very long time, haha. There's not gonna be major launches of new DLCs, or a full game going live, or any bonus Moments. It's simply making progress on OL: N&F. That's pretty normal for game development. It's just not something we've had to go through since 2019. But we're hunkering down for the long haul on this one.

Specifically, Step 1 will be fully completed in 2024 and I'll make as much headway into Step 2 as possible. There will be two updates to the public demo, one probably in May and another sometime in Fall/Third Quarter 2024. Those will focus on Step 1 scenes still. I can't guarantee we'll be able to rework the Step 2 part of the demo with new content this year. As it is, the content was made to be a demo preview. A lot is gonna change for the complete version.

And that's about it for our main game. I appreciate all of you who decide to follow along with the process.

Beyond that, the Our Life: Beginnings & Always digital artbook is going to become available through Steam and Itch.io in early 2024! Maybe not January, but ideally no later than February.

Finger's crossed, we will also launch Our Life: Beginnings & Always for Mac on Steam and make it available for Androids through the Google Playstore. I can't state it with confidence, since there's constantly been roadblocks/issues with those, aha.

My final little note for this coming year is that, potentially, there could be more information coming out about the game that's going into production after OL2, "Project W".

▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾▴ ▾ ▴

And that's what you can look forward to. Every year I'm amazed I can continue to do this as my fulltime job. I'm always wondering when that will end, but I'd be lying if I said I could see that point. The support GB Patch Games has gotten, and still gets each day, is more than enough to for it to continue for the rest of OL2's development.

I'm pretty confident in assuming that when that game does launch it's going to be successful enough for Project W to go into full production. It's a truly wonderful thing. Thank you so much for being here. We'll do our best with the time and attention you've given us.

Happy New Year 🥰️

#our life #visual novel #dating sim #interactive fiction #our life: now & forever #our life: beginnings & always #gb patch #gb patch games

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mpreglover225 · 7 months ago

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In the bustling delivery room, with monitors beeping their steady rhythm, Dan gritted his teeth, each contraction a wave that tightened its grip around him. Across from him, his partner, Chris, held his hand, worry creasing his brow.

"God, Chris, this is intense," Dan panted, his face flushed with effort.

"You're doing amazing, Dan. Just breathe, okay? In and out, like we practiced," Chris coached, squeezing his hand in time with the breathing.

"Easy for you to say," Dan managed a half-laugh through the pain, his humor a lifeline in the storm. "This little guy's a future linebacker, I swear."

A nurse, standing by with a warm, encouraging smile, checked the monitor. "You're almost there."

Dan nodded, beads of sweat rolling down his temple. With a deep breath, he hunkered down, summoning strength from the core of his being.

"I'm right here with you," Chris whispered. "I can't believe we're about to meet our son."

A new surge of determination washed over Dan. "Okay, let's do this," he said, and with a mighty exhale, he leaned into the contraction, the room filling with the raw intensity of life about to break forth.

Dan bore down with a fierce concentration, Chris' presence a steadying force beside him. "Big push, Dan, you've got this," Chris encouraged, eyes locked onto Dan's, transmitting silent strength.

"His head... it's so big," Dan grunted, the intensity in the room cresting with each push. Nurses surrounded them, their faces a blend of professionalism and empathy.

"Another push, Dan," the nurse instructed, poised to assist.

Gathering the remnants of his waning energy, Dan pushed with all his might, and with a moment that seemed to both pause and accelerate time, the room erupted into a cascade of motion as the baby's head emerged.

"That's it, that's it!" Chris exclaimed, tears of joy welling up. "Shoulders next, love."

The final pushes were a symphony of encouragement and Dan's grunts of exertion, culminating in the miraculous moment their son was fully delivered, the sounds of his first cries a melody to their ears.

Exhausted but elated, Dan collapsed back against the pillows, a smile of relief spreading across his weary face as their baby was placed onto his chest. The connection was instant, a bond of love that pulsed with every heartbeat.

Hours later, after the adrenaline had faded and their little one had been nursed, Dan drifted into a much-needed sleep, the trials of labor a fading memory. Chris, still riding the high of becoming a dad, sat in the recovery room, their son asleep against his chest, wrapped in a soft blue blanket.

The door opened quietly, and Matt stepped in, his face breaking into a grin. "Chris, he's perfect," he whispered, not wanting to disturb the peace.

"Thanks, Matt," Chris whispered back, a protective arm around his son. "It's unreal, holding him like this. Makes you feel like you've become a guardian to the world, doesn't it?"

Matt nodded, looking down at his own slightly rounded belly, where Alex's hand rested. "Three months along and already feeling it."

Chris smiled knowingly. "It changes everything. The moment they arrive, you're not just living for yourself anymore. There's this... fierce need to protect them, to make the world a better place for them."

Alex stepped closer, his eyes on the baby. "Looks like Dan's out cold," he noted, a gentle tease in his tone.

"Yeah, he's earned it. He was incredible," Chris said with pride. "And soon, you'll know exactly what it's like. All the pain forgotten the second you hold your baby."

Matt nodded, a mix of anticipation and nerves dancing in his eyes. "Can't wait, honestly."

As the four men shared the quiet joy of the moment, the sense of a shared journey was palpable — the beginning of a new chapter not just for Dan and Chris, but for Matt and Alex as well, each step forward a movement towards a future crafted with love.

#male pregnancy #mpreg #mpreg belly #mpreg birth #mpreg kink #pregnantman #mpreg art #mpreg ai #mpreg story #mpregbirth

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doctorbitchcrxft · 5 months ago

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No Exit | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? )

Warnings: Jo and reader are dicks to each other, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 5754

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and the Winchester boys had been hunkered down in the rooms Ellen told you about the first time she met you for a few days now. You were grateful for her generosity while you and the brothers tried to pin down your next move with the demon or another hunt, but you were going stir crazy. You sat on the hood of the Impala under the shade of a tree pouring through newspapers. Sam and Dean approached you after a few hours of you researching.

“What are you doing to my baby?” Dean asked you.

“Dee, she’s fine, we’re bonding,” you said, tapping the spot next to you on the hood. “Nothing’s dented or broken; promise.”

He gave you a skeptical look but said nothing else.

“ ‘Sides, I was getting ready to come get you anyway,” you said, hopping down. “I think I got something. Los Angeles, California.”

“What’s in L.A.?” Sam asked.

“Young girl's been kidnapped by an evil cult,” you smirked.

“Yeah? Girl got a name?”

“Katie Holmes.”

Dean chuckled, and a grin spread across your face.

“Seriously, though, it’s like all things supernatural disappeared off the face of the earth,” you continued.

Dean turned his head toward the Roadhouse at the sound of a glass breaking. “Ooh, catfight.”

You grimaced and followed the boys into the bar cautiously. Ellen and Jo were arguing loudly about Jo wanting to go off and Ellen wanting her to stay at the Roadhouse or go back to school. She stopped shouting when she noticed you. “Guys, bad time.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Sam said. The three of you turned to leave.

Dean got one more quip in, saying, “Yeah, we rarely drink before ten anyway.”

“Funny, let’s go,” you deadpanned, grabbing his jacket lightly and pulling him to the door.

“Wait. I wanna know what they think about this,” Jo said.

At the sound of the creaking front door, you turned to see a family with two kids under three walking in wearing bright yellow “Nebraska is for Lovers” t-shirts.

Ellen continued to yell despite the customers that had entered. “I don't care what they think!”

The father of the two young kids cut Ellen off. “Are you guys open?”

Jo yelled, “No!” and her mother yelled, “Yes!”

The dad grimaced and shrank away. “We’ll just… check out the Arby’s down the road.”

The phone rang as the family left, and Ellen went to answer it. Jo turned to you and the brothers; her gaze mostly focused on Dean, per usual.

“Three weeks ago, a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment.” She shoved a file at Dean. Dean looked down at it strangely. “Take it, it won't bite,” she said.

“No, but your mom might,” he responded.

Jo’s lips pinched, still holding out the folder. He took it reluctantly as Jo continued explaining. “And this girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes. Only happens every decade or two so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer, or—”

Dean flipped through it and cut her off. “Who put this together? Ash?"

Jo smiled proudly. “I did it myself.”

Dean hummed, impressed, and you took the folder from him. You flipped through it, secretly hoping to find holes in it somewhere, but you couldn’t at first glance. You were impressed, too, much to your chagrin.

“I gotta admit. We hit the road for a lot less,” Sam added.

“Good. You like the case so much, you take it,” Ellen stated.

“Mom!”

“Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. And I won't lose you too. I just won't.”

Your gaze softened as you took in Ellen’s grief-stricken features. You could completely empathize with how that felt. And so, you and the brothers set off.

***

“I feel kind of bad, snaking Jo's case,” Sam said as the three of you stalked around the deceased’s apartment.

“I don’t,” you said. “Her mom’s only trying to protect her.”

“Exactly. Maybe she put together a good file,” Dean added, “but could you see her out here working one of these things? I don't think so.”

You pulled out your EMF meter and continued walking around the very nice apartment. “What I wouldn’t give to have one of these,” you muttered. “You getting anything?”

“No, not yet,” replied Sam. Just as he spoke, you heard his meter beeping. He leaned over to something in front of him, and you walked over.

“What's that?” you asked.

“What?” Dean came up behind you as Sam reached down to the lightswitch and lightly touched it.

“Holy crap,” the younger Winchester said.

Dean reached forward, too. “That's ectoplasm. Well, Sam, I think I know what we're dealing with here. It's the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.”

You snickered. “Can we get through one hunt without a Ghostbusters reference, please?”

“Never.”

“Guys, focus, please,” Sam deadpanned. “I've only seen this stuff, like, twice. I mean, to make this stuff you have to be one majorly pissed off spirit.”

“Alright, let's find this badass before he snags any more girls,” Dean said. You followed him out of the apartment and immediately had to cling to a wall to avoid being seen by the approaching voices. Your face fell when you realized one of the voices was Jo’s.

“It is so spacious.” Her voice was getting closer. “You know, my friend told me I absolutely have to come check it out, and I have to admit, she was right. You did a really good job with this place.”

Dean stepped out suddenly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“There you are, honey,” Jo grinned, wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist. You could’ve killed her. “This is my boyfriend Dean, and his buddies, Sam and (Y/N).”

“Good to meetcha,” the landlord said. “Quite a gal you've got here.”

Dean smacked her ass roughly, trying to convey his frustration to her. “Oh yeah, she's a pistol.”

“So, did you already check out that apartment? The one for rent,” Jo asked Dean.

“Yeah. Yes. Loved it. Heh. Great flow.”

“How'd you get in?” the landlord asked.

Dean swallowed harshly. “It was open.”

“Now, Ed, um, when did the last tenant move out?” Jo grinned back at the landlord.

“Oh, about a month ago. Cut and run, too. Stuck me for the rent.”

“Well. Her loss, our gain! 'Cause if Dean-o loves it, it's good enough for me.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Dean gritted through his teeth, smacking her again.

Jo pulled out a wad of cash. “We’ll take it.”

The landlord’s eyes widened, and he immediately brought you back to the front office to get a key.

***

You paced around the lovely apartment furiously at Jo re-hijacking the hunt you’d hijacked from her.

“I’ll flip you for the sofa,” she said to you.

“Does your mom even know you’re here?” you asked.

“Told her I was going to Vegas.”

You scoffed. “She’s not stupid, She’s not gonna buy that.”

“I'm not an idiot,” Jo challenged. “I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos.”

Dean took your humorless laugh as an opportunity to jump in before you got any uglier. “You know, you shouldn't lie to your mom. Shouldn't be here, either.”

“Well, I am,” she said. “So untwist your boxers and deal with it.”

“Where'd you get all that money from, anyways?” Sam questioned.

She gave a prideful smile. “Working. At the Roadhouse.”

“Hunters don’t tip that well,” Dean replied.

“Well, they aren't that good at poker, either,” she smirked.

‘Take away her immaturity, inexperience, rashness, and massive crush on Dean, I probably could be friends with her,’ you thought.

Dean’s cell phone rang. “Yeah?” He answered, still glaring at Jo. “Oh, hi, Ellen.” Dean and Jo had a furious muttered argument before he said, “I haven’t seen her” back into the phone. “Yeah, I'm sure… Absolutely.” Dean hung up, and Jo grinned cheerfully.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” you hissed at Dean. “Ellen’s gonna murder us.”

“Seriously?” Jo folded her arms at you. “You’re scared of my mom?”

“No,” you spat back. “I just don’t wanna babysit the whole time I’m trying to hunt.”

“(Y/N), stop it,” Sam warned.

“Me? This chick has a death wish, and I need to ‘stop it’?” you snarked. “I’m going to get some air.” You stomped out of the room, Dean trailing behind you.

“(Y/N), where are you going?” he asked.

“Away,” you snorted. “She’s pissing me off. I’m not hunting with her.”

He grabbed your arm. “I’m not happy, either, but what’s this really about?”

You felt caught. “What?”

“You heard me. What’s goin’ on? You’re normally the one who has to talk me off the ledge. Not the other way around,” he said.

You lowered your voice. “I don’t trust her,” you began. “I don’t trust her to have any of our backs. All she’s tried to do thus far is get in your pants and act like an immature brat.

"She has potential, sure, and she’s smart, but she’s not one of us. And I have no idea what her skillset is. She pointed a rifle at you one time; we’ve never seen her use one. She could be an awful shot. And she has no idea how to actually kill anything. She’s, what, twenty-one, twenty-two? She didn’t grow up hunting. She has no experience.

"She doesn’t belong here. And you not telling Ellen she’s here was a huge mistake. Because now, she’s our responsibility. And like I said, I’m not babysitting. If it’s between you or Sam, and her, I’m saving you and Sam every time.”

Dean smirked down at you.

“What?” you hissed.

“You’re jealous,” he said simply.

“Seriously? Did you hear anything else I said?” You crossed your arms and quirked a brow.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I did, and I agree. I’ll watch her if you’ll watch Sam, okay? No blood on your hands if something happens to her,” he replied.

You shook your head. “No, Dean, I don’t like that, either—”

Dean smirked down at you. “What, don’t you trust me?”

“Of course, I do,” you replied. “I don’t trust her.”

He chuckled. “I think you said that already.”

“Just—” you huffed. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Dean snorted. “C’mon, it’s me we’re talking about. I’ll be fine. Will you come back and be civil now?” he asked.

“No promises.”

“Okay, I guess we’re doing this, then.” He raised his pinky at you, and you rolled your eyes.

“I can’t make a pinky promise I can’t keep,” you replied.

“That’s the point. You have to, so I know you’ll be civil.” Dean looked down at you, a challenge in his eyes and a smile plastered on his face.

“But—” you tried.

“No.”

“Dean,” you groaned but locked pinkies with him nonetheless.

“See, was that so hard?” he smirked down at you.

“You can’t use my own thing against me,” you said as you headed back to the apartment. “That’s against the rules of pinky promises.”

“Oh, there’s rules now?” Dean questioned playfully.

“There are when I say there are,” you responded flippantly, opening the door to the apartment.

Jo and Sam turned to face you, and you suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable.

“Look, Jo—” you started.

“Save it. It’s fine,” she replied.

“Well, okay, then,” you mumbled, softly enough that only Dean could hear you mocking her.

Dean gave you a warning look. “(Y/N).”

“I know, I know.”

***

You sat at the table with your laptop next to Sam as Dean paced around the room. Jo had been flipping her little knife around for the last thirty minutes while she looked over the blueprints for the apartment.

“This place was built in 1924. It was originally a warehouse, converted into apartments a few months ago,” she explained.

“Yeah? What was here before 1924?” Dean questioned.

“Nothing. Empty field.”

“So, most likely scenario, someone died bloody in the building, and now he's back and raising hell,” Sam added.

Jo shook her head. “I already checked. In the past eighty-two years, zero violent deaths. Unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor.” She looked up to Dean. “Would you sit down, please?”

Dean sat hesitantly at the head of the table, eyeing Jo guardedly. “So, have you checked police reports, county death records—”

“Obituaries, mortuary reports and seven other sources. I know what I'm doing,” she said.

“Jury’s still out on that one,” Dean replied. “Could you put the knife down?”

She complied, eyeing him angrily. He glared back.

Sam huffed. “Okay! So, uh, it's something else, then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it.”

“Meh, unless somebody’s got a relic from an Egyptian tomb, I’m not sure a cursed object has the kind of spirit power necessary to make ectoplasm,” you said.

Jo completely ignored you. “Well, we've got to scan the whole building. Everywhere we can get to, right?”

“Right. So. You and me, we'll take the top two floors,” Dean said firmly. “Sam and (Y/N)’ll take the bottom two.”

“We'd move faster if we split up,” the blonde tried.

“Oh, this isn't negotiable,” Dean responded.

***

You and Sam returned to the room way sooner than Dean and Jo did. The two of you found nothing of particular interest, unfortunately, and opted to just sprawl out on the couch and floor watching a rerun of Seinfeld.

“I just wanted to tell you,” Sam began, “I don’t think you’re wrong about Jo. Just… tone it down a bit. My brother’s dickish enough to her.”

You sighed. “Dean made me pinky promise I would be civil, so you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

He scoffed. “My brother made you pinky promise?”

You giggled. “I introduced him to the concept.”

“What have you done to him?” Sam chuckled sarcastically.

You shook your head. “I have no idea. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, either.”

Sam paused. “Have you… talked about it at all?”

You nodded your head from side to side as if to say, “sorta.” “I just don’t think now’s the right time. I mean, after your dad, I don’t wanna take advantage of that or him to use me as a distraction.”

He nodded in understanding. “I get it. But… I also don’t think Dean would use you.”

You shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.” You paused. “How are you holding up, by the way? We haven’t had much of an opportunity to hang out one-on-one recently.”

“Honestly? Not great,” he sighed. “I’m scared, man. I don’t know what’s happening or how to stop it. And I think my dad died thinking I hate him.” Tears began to well in his eyes. “I never should’ve said those things to him.”

You got up from the floor and went to sit next to him. You reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing firmly. “If it helps at all, I think my dad died thinking the same. And that feeling goes away after a while. I think both our dads knew that despite our many, many, many issues with each other, the bottom line is, we loved each other a lot.”

He squeezed your hand back and looked at you with sad, puppy-dog eyes. “I hope you’re right.”

The door opened to reveal Dean and Jo bickering and Dean’s fist clenched around a clump of blonde hair with skin attached to it.

You giggled. “What, you hate each other that much that you ripped a piece of Jo’s hair out?”

Dean deadpanned, “No, smartass. We found this in a vent.”

Your stomach dropped. “Oh. Gross.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Dean grumbled. He opened the trash can in the room and dumped it inside.

“Alright, it’s getting late,” Jo stated. “Who’s sleeping where? There’s four of us, two beds, and a couch.”

“(Y/N) and I’ll take a bed,” Dean said casually almost immediately. “Sam’ll take the other. Jo, you got the couch.”

The three of you were stunned at Dean and his adamancy.

Oh-kay,” Jo said, still shocked.

“C’mon,” Dean said, jerking his head toward one of the rooms. He picked up your duffel bags and headed off.

You followed behind, saying “Goodnight, guys,” and shut the door behind you. You tapped the sides of your thighs with your palms as you stayed firmly planted by the door.

Dean seemed to feel a little awkward, too, and blew out a breath. “Was this… uh, okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah! Yeah. Sure. Why not? We’re adults. We’re friends. We can share a bed. No big.”

He chuckled. “You sure? You ramble when you’re nervous.”

“Nervous?” you laughed awkwardly. “Why would I be nervous?” He raised a brow at you, and you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’ve just… I’ve never… Hunting’s lonely. Even when I did hook up, I’d leave before I fell asleep.”

Dean seemed stunned. “Really? Why?”

“I don’t know, it just… felt too intimate, I guess? And I’ve never had anybody I seriously cared about that I’d want to experience that with,” you explained, sitting on the foot of the bed and kicking off your shoes.

His voice quieted considerably. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

You nodded. He seemed to understand what that meant, though both of you refused to talk about it.

Dean showered, as did you, and then you climbed into bed next to one another. The two of you seemed to have scooted to the far edges of the bed, facing away from each other. After several minutes in silence, Dean spoke up.

“(Y/N)?” he murmured.

“Yeah?”

“C’mere.”

You could feel yourself getting flustered as you shuffled over to Dean, who now laid in the center of the bed. He opened his arms and wrapped them around you, allowing you to lay on his chest. You rested your hand on his stomach, and he took in a sharp breath.

“Should’ve cleaned the pipes,” he muttered.

You scoffed. “Perv,” and moved your arm across his stomach completely. You settled into him and drifted off to the most peaceful sleep you’d had in a while.

***

The next time you awoke, you felt arms around you, and you tensed. It took you a second to remember Dean was sleeping soundly next to you. His arms held tighter when he felt you shift, and you turned your face toward his. You smiled sadly at his beautiful, peaceful face, knowing this hunt would be the only time for quite a while that you’d get to wake up to him. You closed your eyes and nuzzled back into him, only to feel him groan above you; beginning to awaken.

“Morning,” he said. His sleepy voice was incredibly attractive. His arms didn’t move from around you.

A smile spread across your face. “G’morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Great, actually,” he admitted. He almost looked sad and regretful as he looked down at you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“You’re confusing me again,” Dean said.

You looked away from him, understanding. Your face fell, too. “You’re confusing me, too.”

“I want to… be more to you so bad,” he began, “but I can’t. I’m tired, (Y/N). I’m so fucking tired. I’m tired of this job, I’m tired of dealing with my dad, I’m tired of… all of it.”

“I know,” you said. “So, what do you want us to do? Do you— Do you want me to leave?”

“No, god, no,” he said quickly. “I don’t know what I want.”

You snorted. “Well, what is it you don’t want? Why don’t we start there?”

He considered for a moment. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You won’t,�� you immediately said.

“Will you let me finish?”

“Sorry.”

He sighed. “I don’t wanna name and claim anything right now. I don’t wanna be just your best friend, but I also— I don’t think I can—” Dean paused and took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t be able to give you what I want to give you right now. I can’t be what you deserve.”

“Dean,” you said. “This is a very low-pressure situation. I know you and I can’t go there right now. I know that. And… I want to, too. I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about… anybody else.” You swallowed tensely, not sure if you’d said too much. “I— I want you to heal. And I know you’re tired. And I know it’s awful. And I hope that one day, I can make things better for you. But I also know that you have to fix you first. But until then, we can just be us. I won’t initiate anything. I need you to come to me when you’re ready. And until then, we’ll just be you and me.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

You smiled softly. “Always.”

***

After you and Dean talked things over a bit, you learned from Sam that another girl had died. Dean was off to investigate the room while you, Sam, and Jo researched. Jo wouldn’t look at you with anything but disgust after you spent the night with Dean. Her schoolgirl-ish crush was beginning to really just annoy you more than make you jealous.

Dean burst through the door. “Teresa Ellis, Apartment 2F. Boyfriend reported her missing around dawn.”

“And her apartment?” Jo questioned.

“Cracks all over the plaster, walls, ceiling. There was ectoplasm, too.”

“Well, between that and that tuft of hair, I'd say this sucker's coming from the walls,” Sam added.

“But who is it? Building's history is totally clean,” Dean reminded you.

There were various pictures and blueprints from Jo’s file spread across the table between you, Sam, and Jo. You picked up a picture of the field where the apartments now stood. Next to it was a building with bars on its windows. “Check this out. We’re next door to a prison.”

“Nice going, (Y/N),” Sam grinned.

Jo pulled out her phone. “I’ll call Ash—”

“No,” you shook your head, standing. “Let me figure this one out. Something about this is sounding really familiar to me, and it’s gonna bother me if I’m not the one to nail it down.”

“And what a shame that would be,” Jo snarked.

You glared at her as you continued to pace around the room. “Blonde hair, in the walls, prison, field, Philadelphia…” you murmured to yourself. You repeated it over and over to yourself until something struck you. “H. H. Holmes,” you breathed. “Holy shit.”

“What? What about him?” Sam questioned, straightening in his seat.

“That was his whole thing! He was really, and I mean, really into blondes— though, he’d kill just about anybody— had his whole ‘murder castle’ thing in Chicago, and the feds tracked him all the way to Boston. They brought him back to Philly, and he was hanged. Hence, field. Fields next to old prisons were almost always used for hangings,” you explained.

“What do you mean, ‘murder castle’?” Jo questioned. “And how do you know all this?”

“I like true crime,” you shrugged. “He built all these fake walls, fake hallways; his place was a fucking maze. Acid vats, trap doors, quicklime pits all up in his basement— although most of that was probably sensationalized— but anyway, this guy was a complete freak. ‘Multi-murderer’ was first used to describe him before they knew what serial killers were. He confessed to twenty-seven murders, but he probably killed over a hundred. He, uh, he used chloroform to kill his victims.”

Dean nodded, “Which is what I smelled in the hallway last night.”

“At his place,” you continued, “cops found human remains, bone fragments, and long locks of bloody blonde hair.”

Dean snickered at Jo. “Boy, you sure know how to pick 'em.”

“Well, we just find the bones, salt 'em and burn 'em, right?” she said, anxiously.

“Nope. His body’s in town encased in a couple tons of concrete,” you responded.

“What, why?” she asked.

“Didn’t want anybody fuckin’ with his corpse. ‘Cause, y’know, that’s what he did,” you cringed.

“Wait, (Y/N), that means Teresa could still be alive. Inside the walls,” Sam added.

You nodded. “Yeah. Poor girl.”

“We need sledgehammers, crowbars. We've got to smash these walls; anywhere thick enough to hide a girl,” Dean barked out, hurriedly moving around the apartment.

***

You went with Sam, and Dean went with Jo as he promised you he would. Sam couldn’t get too far into the crawl-spaces of the walls, and you insisted on pressing forward. If you could get through, then the space was big enough to hide a girl.

“(Y/N), holler if you need, okay?” Sam called to you.

“I’m good, dude, I promise. But you do the same.” You continued to wriggle through winding, claustrophobia-inducing corridors till you came face to face with the man himself; H. H. Holmes. Although, this version of the famed serial killer was a lot more gray, decayed, and gaunt than the one you’d seen in pictures. You screamed, “Sam!” before the world went dark.

***

You next awoke in a box that eerily mirrored a coffin; it was made of wood and just big enough for you to lay down in. You pointed your flashlight up at the ceiling to see long, deep, bloodied gashes in the wood; presumably nail marks. You huffed out a shaky breath, collecting yourself, when you noticed a slit in the wood to your right. A noise startled your already shaken mind, and you heard Jo say, “Hello?” You refused to talk, worried that it would upset Holmes even more.

You heard another woman’s voice coming from a different part of the room. “Is- Is anybody there?”

Jo continued talking. “Your name's Teresa? This won't make you feel better, but I'm here to rescue you.”

“Oh, god. He's out there; he's gonna kill us!” Teresa cried.

“No, he won't. We're getting out,” Jo insisted. “My friends are looking for us; they'll find us.”

Footsteps fell eerily nearby, and you could vaguely make out something approaching you.

“Oh, god, he's here!” Teresa sobbed.

“Shh! Just be quiet!” Jo scolded.

‘So much for being quiet, Jo,’ you thought. The next thing you heard was Jo screaming in pain, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from calling out to her.

You took a knife out of your belt and began hacking at the wall. You kicked with all your might until you finally started to break through a little. Suddenly, a man’s mouth appeared at the opening you were making in the wood.

“You're so pretty. So beautiful,” the spirit cooed, reaching in your cell to stroke your cheek. You cringed and turned away, groaning in disgust. You turned back and stabbed it with your knife, the spirit crying out before disappearing again. You went back to kicking and hacking at the door with even more force than before. At long last, the paneling came loose, and you laughed in relief. You pried the rest of the paneling away from the wall and rolled out onto the floor, catching yourself before you toppled over completely. When you stood and dusted off your hands, Holmes appeared behind you and clasped a hand over your mouth. You kicked and struggled against him, screaming behind his hand muffling you. You wrestled with him a bit more before the spirit suddenly let you go. He disappeared completely when you heard a gunshot go off.

“(Y/N)!” Dean ran into the room, holding a shotgun.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Holy shit, I’m so happy to see you.” You ran to him and wrapped your arms around him.

“Um, little help, here!” Jo said from her box.

You ran to the wall next to her and picked up a crowbar lying nearby. You began prying the cell open, groaning strenuously as you did so. When it finally released, you helped Jo down. “You okay?” you asked her.

“Been better. Let's get the hell out of here before he comes back,” she answered.

“I’m not leaving here just yet,” you said.

“(Y/N), no—” Dean protested firmly. He seemed to understand what you were doing.

“What other plan do you have, Dean?” “Wait, what’s going on here?” Jo questioned.

“(Y/N)’s gonna use herself as bait,” he explained.

“What, would you rather Jo be bait? I don’t think so,” you said flippantly. “Now, get them out of here.” You gestured to Sam to help a frightened Teresa and Jo out of the room.

***

You sat in the center of the room completely unmoving. You sat cross-legged, breathing evenly. You’d learned long ago how to steel yourself to these situations. You grinned slightly when Holmes began to approach you. When he got very close, Dean yelled, “Now!” and Sam and Dean began shooting the bags of salt you’d strung up to the ceiling to create a perfect circle of salt around the spirit. You ran out of the circle, leaving Holmes trapped inside. He wailed and growled at you, running around the salt circle pathetically.

“Scream all you want, you dick, but there's no way you're stepping over that salt!” you laughed coldly.

You and the brothers climbed back up out of the sewer and closed the grate, fully silencing Holmes’ howls.

***

“So? This job as glamorous as you thought it would be?” Sam asked Jo as the three of you stood over the top of the closed sewer..

“Well, except for all the pee-your-pants terror, yeah. Sure. But that Teresa girl's gonna live a life because of us. It's worth it, isn't it?” Jo replied.

You nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

“Hey, what if somebody finds that sewer down there, or a storm washes the salt away?” she questioned.

Sam chuckled. “Both very fine points. Which is why we're waiting here.”

“For what?”

As if on cue, you heard the beeping of a large truck backing up. You grinned over your shoulder at Dean backing up the cement truck he’d stolen, and motioned for him to stop when the spout lined up over the sewer’s entrance.

Dean got out of the cab and came to stand next to you.

“You ripped off a cement truck?” Jo scoffed.

“We’ll give it back,” you shrugged. You turned a lever on the side of the truck and watched the cement pour down into the entrance.

“Well, that oughta keep him down there till hell freezes over,” Dean grinned.

***

As you and the brothers were heading out with Jo in tow, Ellen appeared at the entrance of the apartments, intense anger bubbling just under the surface. You and the boys cringed at the sight of her.

“Mom—” Jo began.

“Not now.”

She forced the five of you to ride back to the Roadhouse in complete silence. Ellen sat in the front seat, staring blankly ahead, and you were sandwiched between Jo and Sam in the back.

Dean chuckled awkwardly. “Boy, you– you really weren't kidding about flying out, were you?”

“You told her?!” you couldn’t help but blurt out.

Ellen scowled at you in the rearview mirror. You shrunk under her gaze.

“How about we listen to some music?” Dean flicked the radio on. Ellen immediately reached forward and flicked the radio off.

You looked up to Dean, who looked back to you.

“This is gonna be a long drive,” he muttered.

***

Ellen dragged her daughter into the Roadhouse by her elbow, and you and the brothers followed closely.

“Ellen? This is my fault. Okay?” Dean tried. “I lied to you and I'm sorry. But Jo did good out there. I think her dad would be proud.”

Ellen whipped around, angrily commanding, “Don't you dare say that. Not you. I need a moment with my daughter. Alone.”

The three of you left and loitered around in silence for the next few minutes. Jo stormed out of the Roadhouse soon after, tossing a glance to Dean to incentivize him to follow her.

“That bad, huh?” he asked as he walked after her.

“Not right now.”

“What happened? Hey, talk to me.” He grabbed her arm and spun her around.

Jo immediately jerked her arm out of Dean's grasp. “Get off me!”

“Sorry. See you around,” he said, turning back to you and Sam.

“Dean,” Jo’s broken voice called.

He turned back to the blonde.

“It turns out my dad had a partner on his last hunt. Funny, he usually worked alone; this guy did too, but,” she swallowed her forming tears, “I guess my father figured he could trust him. Mistake. Guy screwed up, got my dad killed.”

The older brother’s face scrunched up. “What does this have to do with—”

“It was your father, Dean.”

Dean scoffed. “What?”

“Why do you think John never came back? Never told you about us? Because he couldn't look my mom in the eye after that, that's why,” Jo spat.

“Jo—” Dean tried.

“Just... just get out of here. Please, just leave.”

The three of you did as Jo asked. You headed back to Bobby’s to regroup and find yourselves another hunt. Dean was silent on the multi-hour-long drive back. When you stopped at Bobby’s house, Sam went inside. Dean stayed seated in his car, and you stayed with him.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

He scoffed. “ ‘What’s wrong’? Did you hear anything Jo said?”

“I did, I just wanted to see what’s goin’ on in your head,” you replied, unfazed by his attitude.

He shook his head and sighed. “If Ellen hated my dad so much and didn’t trust us at all, then why the fuck would she have called my dad in the first place?”

You nodded, getting out of the car; followed by Dean. “Yeah, I don’t get it,” you agreed. “She wants to get involved with your personal family shit and the demon and let us bunk at her place, and then bring up old crap you and Sam weren’t even a part of? I mean, I get that John did something that got ‘im killed, but I really don’t see how that’s your fault.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled. “At least we don’t have to babysit anymore.”

You snorted. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess. But you don’t have to pretend you’re not bothered by it. I know you are.”

He scoffed.

“Dean. I know you are. And I also know that I trust you with my life. And you know I don’t trust easily. You are not your father.” You walked up the steps into Bobby’s house, leaving Dean in the junkyard to mull over your words.

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

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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woso-dreamzzz · 11 months ago

Text

Holiday Spirit

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: You don't have travel plans for the holidays

Running away to play football in a foreign country wasn't one of your smartest moves but it was certainly one of your best.

You just wished that it didn't mean fielding questions of what you were doing for Christmas.

"When do you need to get back?" Lucy asked you one morning as you changed. She was leaning against your locker, typing away at her phone.

"Where? Home? I've got homework to do later. I think Mapi told Alexia that she would come over to supervise me. I can't go out with you."

"No, I mean for Christmas. When do you need to be back in England? Me and Keira are looking at flights. We're happy to take you back with us. Give you over to your parents when we land."

You laughed awkwardly. "Thanks but I don't need to fly back with you guys."

Lucy gave you a weird look before she nodding. "Your parents are flying out to spend Christmas here. That's nice."

You didn't have the heart to tell her that you hadn't spoken to your parents since they gave you permission to go to Barcelona and then promptly kicked you out. So, you just didn't answer her.

You were sure that it had been swept under the rug after that but Lucy must have brought it up in conversation because, as you pushed your lunch around your plate, Paredes slumped into the seat next to you.

You gave her an odd look. Irene didn't tend to sit on this side of the room. She usually kept to the older girls while you usually ended up squished between Ona and Salma - though both of them had been kept behind for media.

"Er...hi?"

She narrowed her eyes at you, like she was trying to work something out.

"Hello? If this is a test to get me to work on my Spanish, it's not going to work. I can sit in complete silence."

"When are your parents flying out?" She asked.

Your stomach plummeted and you placed down your fork. "Who told you my parents were flying out?"

"Lucy said that you didn't need to fly out with her and Keira."

"I didn't tell her that my parents were flying out," You insisted," Just that I didn't need to fly with her and Keira."

Technically, you weren't lying. That was what you told Lucy. You were already at rock bottom. You just had to get the pickaxe out and keep digging.

"Hmm," Paredes said, staring at you for a long while," You're an unaccompanied minor. Someone would have to drop you off at the airport. If you want one of us to take you there that's fine but Lucy and Keira would be the safer bet."

You just laughed awkwardly, not entirely sure how to bring up that you definitely weren't going home and your parents definitely weren't coming to you either.

"Ha, I guess so."

Paredes looked at you for a moment longer. "I want your travel plans by the end of the week. If you don't want to travel with Lucy and Keira, that's fine, but we need to know who's getting you to the airport."

Safe to say, you never did get back to Paredes about your non-existent travel plans. You hunkered down in the little apartment the club paid for and wrapped a blanket tightly around your shoulders.

Usually, the building was full of your international teammates but with Christmas in a week, everyone had already gone home - except for you.

You were content though, with all your lights off, dressed in fuzzy pyjamas as you cradled a cup of hot chocolate. A movie had been put on for background noise but you were busy skimming through tiktok on your phone so you weren't really watching it.

A knock sounded at you door.

You ignored it. You never opened the door when someone randomly knocked. Everybody knew to text you first.

Case and point: The banging got louder and louder and, honestly, you just hoped that the drunkard outside your door would realise they had the wrong apartment soon.

Your phone screen lit up with an incoming call.

You frowned.

"Hello?"

A sharp suck of breath came from Patri. "You're alive." She raised her voice. "She's alive! Where are you?"

"At home? Why?"

"Which home?" She asked urgently.

"What do you mean which home? To my knowledge, I only have one."

"Spain or England?"

"Spain. Patri, seriously, you're freaking me out here."

"Open your door."

"What?"

"Open your door right now!"

You didn't really want to, not with the drunk guy outside of it but something in Patri's voice made you obey her.

You swung open the door.

A body slammed into you, an arm around your shoulders and a hand cradling the back of your head.

"You're okay," Alexia said, sounding slightly choked up," You're okay."

You peered over her shoulder, seeing a group of your teammates behind her.

Patri.

Pina.

Paredes.

You could just about see Aitana and Marta making their way down the corridor too.

"Why...wouldn't I be okay?" You asked.

Alexia didn't release you, holding you close so it was Paredes that answered.

"Because we asked Keira if you had gotten back to your parents safely but she said that you never flew with her. So, we asked Mapi and Ingrid if they dropped you off but they said you hadn't even mentioned needing to go to the airport."

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared, peering into your dark apartment.

"And I don't see your parents anywhere."

You glared back at her. "I never said anything about meeting my parents."

Patri and Pina winced and you knew that it was the wrong thing to say when you felt Alexia tense. She pulled back and looked at you.

"What do you mean you never talked about meeting your parents?" She asked sharply.

"Why would I meet with my parents?"

"It's Christmas!"

"Technically, it's a week before Christmas."

"Don't sass me!"

You shrunk a little under the weight of Alexia's glare and you wondered briefly if you could shove everyone out of your apartment and swing the door shut in your face.

But, given the way that Alexia was holding you, and the way that Marta and Paredes were guarding your door, you gathered that that wasn't a good idea.

Aitana, Patri and Pina (the little rats) had all made themselves comfortable in your house, flicking on the lights and helping themselves to your slightly lukewarm mug of hot chocolate - leaving you completely at the mercy of the older players.

The combined weight of Marta, Paredes and Alexia's stares had you awkwardly chuckling.

"Sooo...It's kind of late. I should probably head to bed, huh? We should talk tomorrow. Good? Good."

"And let you sneak out of that conversation too?" Paredes said," Not a chance. Where are your parents?"

"England, I assume. Unless they've fallen off the face of the earth which, admittedly, would be pretty cool."

"And why are you here and they aren't?"

You shrugged. "Because?"

"That's not an excuse," Marta said warningly when it look like steam was about to come out of Paredes and Alexia's ears," The truth, now."

"Why I'm here and my parents aren't? I don't know if you've noticed but that's always the case."

Patri, Pina and Aitana snickered on the sofa, flicking through your Netflix account for something to watch.

"No more sass," Alexia said firmly," I mean it or you're going to be in some serious trouble." She sounded pretty serious too so you just sighed.

"I...I'm not going back to England for Christmas."

"Obviously," You heard Patri mutter but you ignored her.

"And your parents?" Alexia probed.

"They're staying in England for Christmas."

Silence reigned through your little apartment although you knew that everyone had already suspected what you had said. It was just different when it was finally said out loud.

"Why isn't your Mama coming to see you?" Paredes asked, a mother herself so you gathered something like this hit close to home.

You shrugged. "We don't talk. I don't talk to either of my parents. It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? Not a big deal!"

Alexia looked like she was about to burst into tears on your behalf which was something that you didn't quite understand but just kind of rolled with.

Aitana gently guided you over to the sofa like she thought you were about to break at a moment's notice, squishing you between her and Pina while Alexia, Paredes and Marta took refuge a bit further away on your armchairs.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Marta asked when it looked like Alexia had finally gotten a hold of herself.

"What's there to tell?" You said dismissively, swatting at Pina until she surrendered your hot chocolate back to you. It was practically cold now but you had made it using milk instead of water and you would be damned if you let it go to waste.

"Maybe about why you're avoiding seeing your parents?"

To your credit, your voice was more steady than you felt. "We don't talk anymore. They said it was either football or them." You gestured to your apartment, to the teammates scattered around your living room. "I chose football."

"And your parents were okay with that?" Marta asked.

"Well, clearly not, seeing as we're all sitting here, having this conversation." You scoffed in amusement. "In fact, I think my dad even said that if I ever showed my face again while playing football that he would swing at me."

It sounded harsh in the ears of your teammates but to you it wasn't. Your father always threatened bodily harm even against the most mundane of things like a driver cutting him off in traffic.

Alexia, in particular, looked stricken at your confession. You kind of understood. You knew that her father had been her biggest supporter and that each and every time she stepped on the pitch she wanted to do well in his memory.

You...not so much.

Anytime you stepped onto the pitch, it was a like a big middle finger to your parents (although you knew that they wouldn't even be bothered to watch any of your matches).

"That's not funny," Paredes said firmly," You father shouldn't have said that to you."

You just shrugged again, rolling your eyes. "Is this meeting of the Spanish Inquisition over? I've got a show to watch."

There was silence for a moment before Aitana spoke, sounding completely heartbroken.

"You're spending Christmas alone?"

"Yeah? Sorry, did I not make that clear?"

"Don't be silly," Alexia said though, talking over you completely as she typed on her phone," Of course she's not spending Christmas alone."

You glanced over at Patri and Pina, just in case they were privy to something that you weren't but they both just look as confused as you.

"Er...No, I am. I just said that."

"And I just said that you're not."

You cocked your head to the side. "I-I don't think that's how it works. You can't just speak stuff in existence."

"I'm not. You're spending Christmas with me."

"I don't remember agreeing to that."

"You didn't need to." She held up her phone. "Mami already agreed. She's asking if you're allergic to anything?"

"Um, no...Wait, hey! You can't just kidnap me! I'm fine being on my own."

"You're sixteen," Marta said," Go back with Alexia. You can have a proper Spanish Christmas. Her mum makes good food."

"I don't need a proper Spanish Christmas and I don't need good food. Everything I need, is right here."

"Oh, yeah?" Patri teased," Powder hot chocolate and microwaveable meals. You're eating like a queen, really taking care of yourself."

You stuck your tongue out at her before looking back at Alexia. "Honestly, I'm fine here. Your mum doesn't need to make me food or anything."

"Funny," Alexia said though her tone made it seem anything but," I don't remember this being a discussion. Besides, I already told Mami. She'll be very upset with me if I don't bring you along."

You huffed, knowing that there was no way you were getting out of this now. "You didn't have to do that. I was perfectly fine by myself."

"You're sixteen," Alexia replied," You shouldn't have be 'perfectly fine' by yourself. Aitana, help her pack her bags. Patri, Pina...I know you were planning to do it anyway but raid the fridge. Make sure nothing will go off while she's away."

"Wait, we're going now?!"

"Si, now. You said it earlier. It is late. You should go to bed. The sooner you're packed, the sooner we can go."

"Can't you just get me tomorrow?"

"No." She waved a dismissive hand as Aitana dragged you away. "Off you go. And remember to pack a scarf!"

#woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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shesoutofhere · 5 months ago

Text

Meet Me in the Corner pt.2

Ignore all typos or I will cry.

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter is starting to grow on you but the Parker persona is not.

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So he totally blue-balled you.” your roommate says from her desk where she's painting her nails.

“Mar that totally isn’t how you use that phrase.”

Mar has made you tell her what happened with Peter about 10 times now. Every time you re-tell it, she's come to the conclusion that Peter Parker is an asshole.

“Okay well you get what I mean. Maybe you should request a new partner.”

Maybe not, Peter may have been an ass but you’d be lying if you said his work wasn’t good.

“Look Mar, maybe I just caught him on a bad day, I don’t know.”

Marlene whips her head around, nail polish still in hand. “Oh don’t you start with that benefit of the doubt bullshit.”

You sigh, “Requesting a new partner is out of the question okay, I don’t want to seem like a difficult priss, especially since professor Cal already doesn’t like me.”

Mar gives you an obviously fake smile, “that is not true.”

You give her a look and she grimaces, she’s started something.

“Professor Cal despises me and I don’t know why but he does.”

You feel your anger bubble up. You know you’re about to go on a rant and Mar, being a saint, listens.

“He is constantly nitpicking everything I do and never fails to ridicule my projects in front of everyone. Nothing I do impresses him and I just-” you pause, “I think Peter might help.”

Mar shrugs her shoulders, “I’m still iffy since the blue-balling and all but whatever you think love.”

You giggle as Mar turns back towards her desk, “Hey Mar?”

“Yeah” she answers.

“Next time we're at the bookstore, remind me to buy you an urban dictionary.”

Mar just gives you a thumbs up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re five minutes into your walk and realized a little too late that you need a scarf. You could turn back around and go get one but then you’d have to hear Mar say she told you so and that just won't do.

You decide to tough it out.

After a brisk walk, you make it to the library. Once you’re inside you decide that you’re going to treat yourself to a nice warm tea. You enter the library cafe and order your tea. Once it’s in hand you go to look for a spot to hunker down in.

You make your way through the floors and find yourself heading to the spot you found in the corner. When you turn the bookshelf you are surprised to see the spot empty.

You immediately sit down and start taking your things out.

You’re taking your laptop out of the case when you hear someone's shoes scuff to a quick stop. You look to see a surprised Peter Parker. Not very pleased with how he left you hanging yesterday, you just eye him up and down until your eyes reach his again. Peter is just standing there and you can’t help but ask, “ Can I help you?”

Peter walks a bit closer towards the table before he answers. “No, I was just checking to see if the spot was empty but it’s not so.” He says dragging the O.

Peter stands there expectantly, like he’s waiting for you to ask him to sit. You don’t, so he cracks first. “Do you mind if I sit with you, all the other floors are too loud and I really need some peace and quiet.”

Surprised that he actually asked you, in a nice manner at that, you just nod yes.

He moves to sit in the chair across from you. The tables are big enough to where both of you can spread out your work comfortably but you still can’t help but feel on edge. You didn’t come to the library expecting to see Peter, let alone have him sitting with you.

You try your best to chill out, reminding yourself that you were here first and if anyone should feel mildly unwelcomed, it should be him. With that you decide to start typing up an article for a paper.

You’re both quietly working when Peter speaks up. “What’cha working on?”

Trying not to lose your spot, you continue typing away and give a simple response. “An article”

“For?”

You sigh, whatever groove you had originally found, is all gone now.

“A paper.”

“Which one?”

“An art paper.”

“Oh cool, what do you write?”

You look up from your computer to look at him. “What happened to peace and quiet?”

Peter seems a bit taken aback. You feel bad so you quickly follow up, “I write about up and coming artists. Whether that be new exhibits they have or just sit down interviews about their lives.”

Peter stays quiet so you continue, “I also do in-depth reviews over specific expo’s and the fundraiser’s some of them work for.”

Peter crosses his arms and nods, “Cool cool.”

You give him a quiet ‘yup’ and go back to typing. You get about a sentence in before Peter interrupts you again.

“Is that how you knew about the donors gala?”

You nod, “Sort of, but I really learned more about it through Austin.”

“Art museum friend?”

You give him another nod, “art museum friend.”

Peter just nods some more and leans back into his chair.

“Since we're on the topic, what exactly is the gala for anyways?”

Abandoning all hope for your article, you push your laptop away to fully engage with Peter.

“A bunch of the school's donors get together for a night and do a dinner and an auction. A lot of the art auctioned off is work that students have put together. Those students get invited and get to mingle with some pretty important people. Some even come out with internships or commissions.”

Peter can’t hide his surprise, “that's actually….really cool.”

You can’t help but agree, “yeah, even cooler that we get to go.”

Peter sits up, “speaking of, how about we knock out that outline?”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t thrown off. Last time you saw Peter he was a bit of an asshole. Now, he’s tolerable and dare you say, easy to talk to. Whatever it is, you aren’t complaining.

“Yeah, let me pull up the sheet.”

You and Peter brainstorm for a while. Deciding on different angles and how to approach the assignment. After a while you guys decide on a solid plan and you begin to type it up on the outline.

“So, you’re pretty lucky to have Cal as a professor, considering you write articles and all.”

You wince but continue to type, Peter notices. “What’s the face for?”

You let out a puff of air “I have this running theory that Cal is not very fond of me.”

Peter looks intrigued. “Whaaat, Cal doesn’t like you? That can’t be true. What makes you say that?”

You shrug your shoulders, “he’s pretty, um, critical of my work. He also loves to pick on me and my ideas.” you double down, “like I said, theory.”

Peter gives you a smile. “Uh oh, should I be worried about our project?” you know he’s joking, or you hope he’s joking, but you can’t help but genuinely worry.

Before you can really get into your head, Peter taps the table to get your attention. “Hey, I'm sure it’s gonna be fine. Plus I'm on the team now and I don’t mean to brag but my work is brilliant.”

Successfully making you feel better, you roll your eyes jokingly. “Yeah yeah I get it, Peter the almighty photographer.”

Peter smirks, “so you’ve heard of my work?”

You scoff, “oh come off it Peter.”

All he does is laugh and starts to gather his things.

You can’t help but feel a bit sad?

“Well I’ve got to head out but let me know if you need any help on the outline.”

You nod, “Yeah, I think I should be good. I’ll finish it up and send it to you to look over.”

Peter stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder, “if you want to, but I have full faith in you. You’re the writer after all.”

You can’t help but smile at the compliment. “Look at us, the dream team.”

Peter laughs and starts to walk away. “Oh yeah, Cal’s got nothing on us.”

You let out a laugh at his comment. Peter turns to give a wave goodbye and turns the corner out of your eyesight.

After a bit, you finish the outline, look it over a couple of times and once you’ve decided it’s perfect, you go ahead and submit it.

You send the file to Peter so he can go ahead and submit it for his class. Feeling pleased with the work you’ve done today, you decide to head out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s Wednesday and you’ve just finished up with Cal’s class. You linger a little bit behind, finishing up the notes left on the board. Once you are done you begin to gather up your things and head for the door. Before you can make it out Cal calls out your name to stay behind for a sec.

You halt in your steps and turn around to walk back to his podium. A fellow classmate gives you a sympathetic smile as she walks by you. You can’t help but dread what's to come.

Call talks to every other student before he gets to you. You can’t help but feel like he’s left you for last on purpose. You get up to his podium. He’s flipping through his stack of papers, when he pulls out a sheet of paper. You read the top and see that it’s your outline paper.

Cal speaks first. “So, you and mister Parker are doing the donors gala?”

You nod, “yes sir.”

He just hums and looks down at the outline. He rubs his chin while he reads over the paper.

“How will that work out?”

Here he goes. “Well Peter will take photos and I’ll write up the article.”

Cal sighs, “yes I understand that but how are you guys attending? Will you be a guest? Workers? Volunteers?”

You pull your hands behind your back and try your best not to seem nervous. “We’ll be guests, sir. I know someone working the event and-”

Cal cuts you off, “So you’ll be loitering?”

You dig your nails into your palms, trying to remain calm. “No sir, I know someone working who has offered guest passes and I’ve received invitations from an exhibit I write for.”

“Ah” is all Cal says.

There's a bit of silence when Cal finally looks up from your paper. “ This is a very important event for the school and students involved.” Cal pauses, “you understand that you’ll be mingling with very important people?”

You nod, “of course professor.”

Cal grabs the paper and goes to hand it to you. Before you can grab it he pulls it back. “It’s an honor to be able to attend this gala. You will represent not only me but our school as well. I believe you’re one of the only students to have offered this idea up for the project. I’ll approve it but please note that I am expecting a lot considering how important of an event this is.”

You give another nod, beyond ready for this to be over. “Of course.”

Cal gives a curt nod, “very well then.” he hands over your paper, “I'm looking forwards to seeing you both there.”

You say goodbye and head out the door, paper gripped in your hand.

When you make it far enough you look down at your outline. You sigh as you see all the markings on it. There's minimal notes on Peter’s ideas for the photos but your angle portions are all scribbled on.

At the very top it reads ‘revise and turn in again by Friday.’

You think if you look at paper any longer you’ll cry. You shove it in your backpack and begin your walk to your next class.

With your morning ruined, you can only hope that the rest of the day will be better.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Evil Cal has placed a curse on your day. You should’ve known his class would be an indication for how the rest of your day would go.

You’d completely forgotten to finish your pre-lab for your lab, which led you to have to stay behind an extra thirty minutes to finish it. Those extra thirty minutes made you extremely late for your next class. You had run across campus in hopes of catching some part of the lesson. When you finally make it, dripping in sweat and out of breath, you walk up to the door and read the sign that your class has been canceled for the day. Just to top it all off, it started raining and you’ve got no umbrella with you so you had to go to the student store and spend an absurd amount of money on the smallest umbrella you’ve ever seen.

You’re now walking towards your dorm, in no real rush. You’ve accepted that you’re going to be soaked by the rain, thanks to your ridiculously small umbrella. Your shoes make a squish sound with every step you take and you’ve got your backpack on your front side, hoping to protect what's inside.

All is well until a gust of wind has the umbrella flying out of hand, poking you in the head on the way out. Your eyes drift to where it landed. You are extremely surprised when you catch sight of Peter holding the umbrella. You wave at him and get a small smile back. You think nothing of it as you walk over to him. When you get close you realize that he isn’t alone.

Peter is standing with a group of people under an awning of one of the classroom buildings. One guy looks familiar and you realize it’s the guy that interrupted you and Peter the first day you guys met.

He gives you a wave and hello.

“Hey, we met the other day right?”

You nod, “yeah”

He extends his hand, “I didn’t properly introduce myself, I’m Nolan.”

You shake his hand and introduce yourself as well.

Peter is still holding your umbrella but hasn’t said a word to you yet.

You’re about to ask Peter for your umbrella when one of the girls from the group speak’s up.

“How do we know you exactly?” Okay wow, she’s a bit blunt.

Nolan replies for you, “this is Parker's partner for that class he was talking about.”

She nods “Oh yeahh, I remember. The project he’s worried about.”

Peter gives her a look and cuts in, “Charlotte.” She just shrugs her shoulders. “What, were you not saying that you were worried.”

Everyone but Nolan and Peter snicker. It’s like they know something that you don’t and you feel a pit form in your stomach.

You can’t hold your tongue and look Peter right in the eyes. “What are you so worried about Peter?”

He stutters, “well after what you told me I-” Charlotte clearly is having too much fun and decides to answer for him. “Parker here is worried about you guys failing the project, considering your track record and all.”

Your stunned silent. You can’t remember the last time someone has been so blatantly rude to you. It reminds you too much of highschool and it’s upsetting you. What upsets you the most is the lack of Peters defense.

Your new found friend Nolan even says something, “Oh Charlotte don’t be like that.”

Charlotte just can’t seem to let it go, “I'm sorry, did he not say she hasn’t been able to ace a project.” she looks at you with mock sympathy. “Don’t worry, I’m sure this project will exceed expectations.”

You feel your eyes begin to sting. You berate yourself in your head for tearing up. You blame the draining day you’ve had for the lack of self restraint.

You clear your throat. “Well Charlotte.” you turn to Peter who’s still not said a word. “Thanks for enlightening me on Parker's worries.” you snatch your umbrella out of his hand and walk away, offering no goodbyes. You faintly hear Nolan scold Charlotte but the giggle that follows tells that she doesn’t take it seriously.

You speed walk as fast as you can, when you hear Peter call out your name. You don’t stop. You walk faster hoping that he’ll get the memo. You halt to stop when Peter steps in front of you.

“Hey don’t listen to Charlotte. She’s kind of a-” you cut him off, “a bitch?”

Peter winces, “I mean for lack of better words, yeah.”

Peter can tell you’re still upset and tries to lighten the mood. “Hey so I got this lens for the assignment, it's supposed to be really nice for night shots.”

You are in awe. Is he really trying to completely disregard what just happened?

You deadpan, “real neat Parker, I gotta go.” you try to walk past him, but he manages to step right in the direction you're heading. “Hey, look, I’m really sorry but-”

You scoff, “but what?” you’re pissed off now. “I tell you something in confidence and you go and blab about it to all your friends.” you’re not done yet. “Speaking of your friends, that Charlotte one has a real shit-attitude. I am no one to judge who you can be friends with, especially since we aren't.” Peter frowns at that. “But it’s really telling about your character if that’s who you choose to hang with.”

The rain begins to pick up again and you grip your umbrella harder, Peter still stands in front of you, now getting rained on. You believe you’ve had enough and step aside to go around Peter. Somehow he’s managed to line himself in front of you once again.

“Hey come on, it doesn’t have to be like that.” your eyes widen, genuinely shocked by his audacity. “You’ve got to be joking right? Peter you just let Regina George 2.0 make fun of me based off of whatever information you blabbed about.”

Peter opens and closes his mouth, like he’s at a loss of what to say. You shake your head. “Whatever, you don’t owe me anything.” This time you’re set on getting away. Peter sticks his hand out. “Wait can I just-” you put your hand on his shoulder and shove him to the side. Peter is thrown off by this and it gives you a chance to get ahead of him. You think he’s gotten the message because he doesn’t call after you again.

You make it to the crosswalk and wait for the light. You can’t help but look back at the group. Peters made it back and is laughing away with the rest of them. You can only assume he’s blowing off what just happened.

You pull out your phone and immediately text Mar.

Peter Parker IS an asshole.

Cal can kiss my ass.

ALSO, we need a bigger a umbrella.

You see the dots and receive her response.

Oh honey, I'm ready and waiting.

Doors unlocked

Xoxo

You see the light turn green and give one final once over at the group. Seeing the group reignites your anger and you stomp your way across the street.

Mar is about to have the biggest I told you so moment ever.

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Peter is so #fake and i kinda love it.

Also, sorry to all the Charlottes out there, you're my villain of choice :)

#peter parker #tasm! peter parker x reader #mcu peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #spiderman x reader

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atomicbland · 5 months ago

Text

Just A Mirage

Hello I'm outting myself as the ──★ ˙🍓anon from @ghoulphile. Anyways they've inspired me to fall face first dip my toe back into writing and might as well share the brain rot with the class. This is my first time writing smut or anything relatively like this so any questions comments critques are welcome! I dont bite unless you want me to

pairings: cooper howard x fem!reader rating: 18+ MDNI! warnings: bondage, degradation, pet names, mentions of age gap (obviously), Cooper Howard being a jackass in general, canon typical chem use, smoking AO3 Link

You were tired, thirsty, and hungry. Your rations had been finished earlier that morning though it was not by your hand. The tall ghoul who looked like he had walked right off the set of one of those western movies with his cowboy hat, ragged leather duster, and shotgun strapped to his back had stolen the last of your food and water while you stepped away to relieve yourself. You had come back to him chewing on your stash of jerky while letting his scruffy companion, “Dogmeat”, drink straight from your water flask. You learned quickly that no matter what, he’d treat the dog better than you. He kept you on a leash, his lasso was tied around your waist and tethered to the weapon belt that might as well have been fused into his skin. Anytime you weren’t keeping pace he’d give a rough tug of the rope, causing it to bite into your belly. Argued it’s easier to keep track of you that way.

While you lamented over the loss of your food and water and debated if hiring the old ghoul was a smart choice something catches your attention stopping you in your tracks. Along the edge of the tree line, you spot the remains of what looked like a house, bigger than any house you’ve come across. The roof and windows were still somewhat intact and something that looked like brick peeked through the vines that had taken over the structure. You felt the bite of the rope at your stomach.

“Now, I done told you what’ll happen if I gotta tug this damn rope again…” the Ghoul threatened from in front of you.

“I saw someth-”

“You ain’t seen nothin’,” he spat. “A mirage. Just that pretty lil’ head of yours playin’ tricks sweetie.” He tugged the rope again, urging you to move along not even bothering to look in the same direction as you.

Sweetie. Whenever he called you that you could feel the heat of a thousand rads shoot through your body, making your blood boil.

“Maybe my mind wouldn’t be playing tricks if I still had my food and water!” You didn’t budge, refusing to play his stupid game. You were in charge, hiring him to escort you to the Old World Wall safely.

He turned to face you, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat but his features were twisted into a scowl. “What was that lil lady?”

He didn’t scare you. You cleared your throat. “I said. I NEED water. You don’t get any caps or vials if I’M dead!” He stays silent, still glaring. A month's supply of vials upon arrival was on the line and he knew it. You point towards the treeline. “I saw a house over there. We're out of rations and it's getting dark. Can we at least set up camp there?”

His answer is wordless, whistling a command to Dogmeat to run ahead to the house. He gives another tug at the rope, commanding you to follow behind him, a cautious hand at his holster.

The inside of the house was far nicer than the outside led you to believe. While everything appeared to be overrun by nature the original bones were still there. Holey yet plush couches formed a sitting area around a fire pit that recessed into the tattered wall. The floorboards creaked and moaned under the new weight as the three of you walked around making sure the area was clear. Dusty paintings littered the walls, images nearly impossible to make out in the dim light.

“Now smoothie,” the Ghoul started, taking a quick break to puff his inhaler, “I’mma take you off yer leash and scope the perimeter ‘fore we hunker down.”

You nod, happy to have some relief from the scratchy fibers of the rope and to get some sort of break from your freakish travel partner. Not that you didn’t hate him but the way he spoke and stole from you did wear on your nerves. All of the stupid pet names that cowboy gave you did something to you. You couldn’t place it, a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, a milder feeling of what he did when he’d make a pass at you. And despite how much he annoyed you, you found him strangely attractive. On those sleepless night when you were sure he was sleeping, you’d study his features, imagining his strong hands around you as he pulled your hips down onto his, his cock hitting your core just right making your back arch and pulling the same loud cries of pleasure you had heard him pull from others in the adjacent room of whatever hostel would allow a ghoul and his dog.

The smell of viscera and tobacco cloud your senses, and you feel a gloved hand around the back of your neck, ripping you back to reality. “And be good for me while I’m gone.” The heat of his breath travels down your neck and straight between your thighs.

You watch as he slinks away, stopping at the crumbling doorway—a dark shadow masking the top half of his face. “Oh and sweetheart,” he pulls a cigarette from one of the pockets of his duster, lighting it before he continued, “be a doll an’ rangle somethin’ up for dinner. Ain’t much in the mood for ass jerky t’night.” He flashes you a smile from underneath his hat before leaving, Dogmeat happily cantering after him.

The house is larger than it looks on the inside and despite its current state of ruin, you could see it in all of its glory, like one of those fancy houses you see in the movies. People smiling and laughing around a table piled with food, dressed in the most beautiful clothes that shimmered against the light. Women with beautifully painted faces and clean, perfectly styled hair. Those movies always made you wonder about the world before the bombs, before everyone wanted to kill everyone else, before the fear of radiation.

You find your way into the kitchen, cracked black and white tiles decorate the floor, dingy teal cabinets matching the Atomic Queen appliances hug the walls. You take care to peek behind every cabinet door checking for any food or water that might have been missed by whoever came through here last. You manage to find some unlabeled booze and canned food tucked behind the remains of some long abandoned animal nest, while it isn’t much at least you’ll be able to eat tonight. In another cabinet you find some Sugar Bombs, the box is dented and beat up but surprisingly unopened, lucky you.

You move towards the back of the kitchen, finding yourself in a small dark room. The smell of mildew and rot is so strong your stomach would've turned if it wasn't already empty, it's so bad you couldn't bother to examine the shelves that lined the wall. You make a mental note to ask the Ghoul to check for loot, of the two of you, he had the stronger stomach to rifle through damn near anything. Pushing through the door to the other side, fresh air greets you, a welcomed relief to your lungs. The very last dregs of sunlight shine through the windows that made up the roof, tall green trees kiss the glass in a desperate attempt to break free. If it wasn't for the roof you would've sworn you accidentally found your way outside.

With one hand on the holster of your knife you creep with the brick of the wall at your back, slowly examining the plants in front of you. You recognized a few, Daffodils, Marigolds, even Tato vines. However a majority were new to you; large flowers the size of your head, and plants that seemed to grow from the roof. You spot some pear and apple trees with the largest fruits you’ve ever seen further into the room. As you found your way to the perpendicular wall, you noticed that it was made of a giant window. You remember seeing building plans for something similar in a pre-war book years ago, a glass house that kept the plants inside at the ideal temperature. For whatever reason the plants in this glass house were thriving on neglect, carrying on with life as if the bombs never dropped.

BANG!

The sound makes you drop to the ground, covering your head. Whatever it was you just hope it was coming from the Ghoul.

Just as you're about to get up, something catches your eye. You crawl towards the brush to get a closer look, little red fruits perched on vines decorated with white flowers cover the dirt by your feet. You pluck one, rolling it between your fingers the skin is rough, yellow dots littering the surface of the red flesh. The sweet scent of the fruit travels to your nose and entices your palate you know better than to put anything in your mouth. Instead, you procure the small tin that you use to store food from your bag and fill it with the mystery fruit.

BANG!

Hastily you shove the container back in your bag, whatever was going on outside had you a fair bit more concerned now that you could hear Dogmeat barking wildly. You quickly get up and make your way out of the glass house, through the dark storage room, and past the kitchen. Not stopping until you've collided with a large solid mass, sending a plume of dust into the air as your ass hits the cushion of the couch.

“You’re ‘sposed to say ‘scuse you after runnin’ into a fella sweetheart.”

You look up, your eyes meet the dark shadow of the Ghoul's from under his hat. Yellowed teeth show through as he grins wide. You look down to see in his gloved hand are two Rad Rabbits, in the other an unopened can of purified water. Relief washes over you, knowing that your dinner would be more than just Cram and Sugar Bombs.

“I believe a thank you's in order.” His stupid handsome grin growing even wider. Clearly proud of himself despite him having taken down much harder prey.

You glare at him before softening, in some way, you feel like this is his way of apologizing for earlier. Any time he pissed you off he would at least make up for it with his actions. Stolen stimpak? Within the next day, you'd find it replaced along with a bag of RadAway. A few bottle caps would find their way into your bag too, when you brought it up to him he'd deny it, telling you to keep a better eye on your shit.

“Thank you,” you pause, it just dawned on you that you didn't know his name. He was the Ghoul, the Cowboy, your escort across the wasteland. But no name to attach to him. You fish for a polite title for him, and if you knew him better you would've punctuated your gratitude with a kiss, yet the older man didn't seem like one for physical contact. “Thank you, Sir.” Is what you land on.

His smile fades as if your gratitude offends him and he tosses rabbit carcasses into your lap.

“Make sure Dogmeat gets her fair share. She found ‘em after all.” He says, patting the mutt beside him before making his way to the firepit, and lighting another cigarette.

#the ghoul #cooper howard #cooper howard smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul smut

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