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babyhatesreality · 4 months ago

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The Sincerest Form

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little!F!reader

A/N- for @pahtoosh who said they loved Grumpy Bucky....<3

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, pet names, baby eats oatmeal (a total warning- oatmeal is YUCK), baby being a lovable menace without realizing it, grumpy daddy, scolding, papa thinks it's all hysterical, and guess what- fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

It had come about in the funniest way. To Steve, anyways.

One day at the breakfast table, Bucky's phone buzzed in his pocket. He generally tried to stay off his phone during meal times, but his phone went off about 5 times in 3 seconds, so he figured it was important. He pulled it out while Steve was trying to coax you to take another bite of your oatmeal.

"Come on princess, it's good for you," Steve said patiently. You and your wrinkled nose definitely thought differently. He chuckled and picked the spoon up from the bowl where you'd left it. He scooped a bit on, making sure to get a piece of peach with it. "This one has peaches on it, you like peaches," he cajoled. "Here comes the airplane!" He waved the spoon around, making cool airplane noises, and watched as your pouting little face smoothed out. You did love a good airplane. You finally relented and let him zoom the spoon into your mouth. While you swallowed, Steve scooped up another bite, this time with a blueberry on it. Just then, Bucky huffed as he looked at his phone.

"Everything okay?" Steve asked his beloved.

Bucky rolled his eyes, his brow screwing up in frustration, and let out a loud sigh. "Sam's driving me nuts. Again."

"What is it this time?" Steve asked as he turned his attention back to you and began making airplane noises again. It wasn't as hard getting you to eat this time- you were staring at Bucky and so were a bit distracted.

"Just more stupid stuff. He can't say anything simply- it has to be in ten different messages in the span of five seconds," Bucky said grumpily. "Why can't he just say 'gym in an hour'? Why does he have to send a thousand messages and stupid little pictures when four words would do?!" Steve smothered a smile. He knew Bucky hated the annoyance of his phone going off constantly, which is why Steve suspected Sam did it. "God, he's annoying."

Steve smiled consolingly at his husband, but didn't say anything. It would just make Bucky grumpier, and as adorable as Grumpy Bucky was, he didn't want to put him in a bad mood for the rest of the day. He focused back on you, and couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of your own wrinkled up and grumpy face, having just swallowed another bite of oatmeal.

"You look like Daddy when you make that face," Papa whispered loudly to you so Bucky could hear. At hearing those words, you turned curiously to see what Bucky looked like. Bucky was studiously ignoring Steve's playful jab and still glaring at his phone. Steve watched as you carefully studied Bucky's frown. You started trying to twist your face into the same expression Bucky was wearing. Steve had to bite the inside of his cheek at the exaggerated pout that was now gracing your cute little face.

"I'm gonna thrown my phone in the Hudson," Bucky grumbled, unaware of what was brewing next to him.

"I'm gonna throw my oatmeal in the Hudson," you instantly parroted, trying to copy his gruff and grumpy tone. That made Steve snort and caused Bucky to finally look up. When he got a look at the sour expression on your face, he huffed again, but gave a begrudged smile.

"Tell you what, Trouble, I'll drop my phone in your oatmeal, and that will take care of both of our problems. What do you say?" Daddy asked you, the twinkle returning to his eye at the end of his declaration.

"OKAY!" you agreed happily, stretching your hands out for his phone.

"No you don't," Papa said immediately, intercepting your little mitts. If he didn't, he had no doubt as to exactly what would have happened next. "Come on, let's finish your breakfast." You gave a loud sigh like Bucky had only moments ago, but let Steve guide the oatmeal laden spoon back into your mouth while trying to hold in his laughter.

This was only the beginning.

For the next week, whenever something annoyed or frustrated Bucky and you were around, you immediately adopted his scowl and tone, usually parroting what he said too. You even took to stomping around dramatically to give it extra emphasis. Steve thought it was absolutely hysterical. It usually snapped Bucky out of his grumpy mood in moments, seeing you playacting at being him and how incredibly cute you were.

Until it backfired.

Steve was away on a mission with Tony and Thor, and Bucky had to head to the offices with you in tow. That was enough to already make him grumpy, but Maria Hill was waiting for him the moment he stepped off the elevator.

"Sergeant Barnes," she said in that no-nonsense tone of hers. "Director Fury needs to see you immediately."

Bucky's blood turned to ice. "Steve...is he...." he choked out, automatically assuming the worst.

"Captain Rogers is fine," Maria said instantly, chagrined, especially when she caught sight of your little, wide eyes. "Fury just needs to talk to you about Operation Guillotine- he has an important update. Cap's mission is going well. Everything's fine." She cleared her throat, still feeling awkward. "Sorry," she added, low.

Bucky took a deep breath to calm his suddenly furious nerves, for your sake. "Fine," he grumbled, brushing past Hill while keeping a tight hold on your hand, his face crumpled into what looked to be a permanent frown. He knew that Maria hadn't meant to freak him- or you- out, but it still made him grumpy as hell.

"Fine," you parroted in the same grumpy voice as you began stomping down the hall alongside your daddy. Maria was taken aback at your tone- you were usually so happy-go-lucky. She was even more confused when you turned around and waved goodbye cheerfully to her, then resumed your stomping and pouting.

Bucky was still too lost in his own annoyance to realize that you were doing it again- mimicking his grumpiness as he huffed his way towards Fury's office. He didn't notice all the curious and confused looks as the two of you made your way down the hall, nor all the baffled agents wondering what the hell was going on with the two of you.

Bucky walked into Fury's office without so much as a knock. "Hill said you needed to see me?" he asked bluntly, still annoyed.

Fury looked up from his work. "Barnes. Yes, I-" he suddenly stopped as he got a good look at the twin scowls on your faces. "Everything...alright?" he asked a bit gruffly.

"Fine. What did you need?"

"We fine," you chirped too, your face completely at odds with your statement. "We grumpy."

THAT got Bucky's attention. He looked down at you, perplexed, then he realized that you were imitating him. Again. You turned your face towards him, nodded solemnly in solidarity, before turning your scowl back on the director. Bucky cleared his throat and took a deep breath before returning his gaze to the director.

"Ohhhhkay," Fury said, not sure how to take this. He decided to just ignore it. "Seems there was something more to the coded message we intercepted. Something we missed. Intel believes it has the location of the new lab. I'd like you to take a look at it again."

Bucky groaned out loud. "Come on, Natasha and I have already been over that thing a dozen times," he said. "I can't make information appear, Fury. I'm telling you, it's not there."

"It's not there, Fury!" you barked, frowning as hard as you could.

Bucky tugged your hand suddenly. "Trouble," he said in that warning tone. "Director Fury and I are talking." He cocked one eyebrow at you.

"I know. I'm helping."

"Well, right now, I need you to hush. Got it?"

Bucky was not happy at your deepening scowl, but he had bigger fish to fry at the moment. He turned his attention back to the baffled (and slightly amused) director. "What's up intel's ass that they think we missed something that big?"

"Yeah, what's up intel's-" your words were suddenly cut off by Bucky's large hand covering your mouth. You tried to squirm away but he wasn't letting you move an inch.

"I said HUSH," Bucky said, giving you The Eye. Once you finally stopped squirming, he lowered his hand, the scowl on his face even more prominent. So of course you had to follow suit and match his look, your face scrunched so tightly your eyes were nearly invisible.

Fury disguised his smile under the pretense of scratching his nose, before clearing his throat and continuing. "There were two more messages intercepted last night that have similar patterns to the original. And we've definitely got movement amongst their supply chain. I want you and Romanoff to take another look at it to see if you can connect the dots. This takes priority today, understood?"

"Understood," Bucky growled back, turning on his heel to leave.

"Bye Mr. Nick!" you called out cheerfully as Bucky turned. Bucky rolled his eyes but didn't say anything as you waved to the director.

"Bye, little one," Fury said, his expression softening ever so slightly. "I hope your day gets less...grumpy."

"Not likely!" you chirped happily, before resuming your Daddy Grumpy Face. Bucky stifled his embarrassed groan, hauling you into his arms instead and thundering down the hallway. People scurried to get out of his way, but he barely noticed.

"Katie, I told you to hush," Bucky scolded you quietly as he made his way towards his and Steve's office.

"Mr. Nick was talking to me, Daddy! I not RUDE."

"Yeah, well, when I tell you to hush, I mean hush."

"You TOO grumpy today, Daddy," you said, shaking your head. Just then- luckily for you- Natasha came around the corner.

"Well hey you two," she said lightly, sensing the tension and obviously seeing the twin scowls on your faces. "Bad morning?"

"We grumpy, Aunt Nat," you answered promptly. "WAY too grumpy."

"Excuse us, we'll be right back," Bucky growled, red faced. He pretended he couldn't hear Natasha snickering as he lumbered past her and stomped into his office, kicking the door shut.

Bucky plopped you down onto the desk. He put his hands on either side of you and leaned down into your face. You shrank down a bit. It finally dawned on you that you MIGHT be in a bit of trouble. "Kaitlyn," Daddy said in that low tone that meant business. Uh-oh. You could feel the Time Out coming. "What did I JUST say about hushing your mouth?"

"Um...."

"I told you to hush. Three times. And you didn't. And then you told Aunt Natasha that we were grumpy."

"We ARE."

Bucky sighed, trying to rein it in. "Baby, you don't say things like that around the office. You know better. And just because I'm in a bad mood doesn't mean that you have to be in one, okay?"

"But if YOU grumpy, then I grumpy Daddy!" you exclaimed, your eyes wide. You put your hands on either side of his face. "You don't gotta be grumpy alone!" You leaned forward and kissed his nose, surprising the hell out of him. "I no want you to be grumpy, so I be grumpy WITH you, okay?"

All of Bucky's annoyance and frustration instantly melted away at your loving words and gesture. "You've..been doing this so I won't be grumpy alone?" he asked, his wide blue eyes taking in every inch of your sweet face.

You nodded happily. "Yeah!"

Bucky felt something rise up in him...what was it? It was laughter. He ducked his head and burst out laughing, amazed and humbled by your innocent and pure love. He gathered you into his arms, this time cuddling you into his chest. Your soft giggle and snuggles back made his heart nearly burst.

"Well, thank you for not making me be grumpy alone," he whispered into your ear before blowing a raspberry on his cheek. "You still need to listen when I tell you to do something, though. Got it?"

"Got it. I sowwy, Daddy."

"I know you are, Trouble. But you know what makes me the most un-grumpy?"

"What?"

"When my baby's happy."

"OH! Okay!" you said, before giving him a huge hug around the neck. "Can I draw you a picture of us being un-grumpy?"

"Sure can."

"Will you hang it on the wall?"

"Already got the tape ready in my top drawer." "YAY!"

Bucky snuggled you once more before putting you down. You instantly dove into the small toy box that lived in their work office, knowing you had crayons in there somewhere, and got to work. Bucky chuckled again to himself, wondering how in the world he could ever have a grumpy day when he had sunshine itself personified in his love for you.

Although he did have another moment of grumpiness when Natasha sent Steve the camera footage of the interaction with Fury and Steve laughed himself sick.

#daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy bucky #daddy bucky x little reader #daddy stucky #daddy!stucky #daddy stucky x little reader #daddy!stucky x little reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #daddy!steve #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy steve #daddy steve x little reader #daddy steve rogers #daddy!steve rogers #daddy steve rogers x little reader #daddy!steve rogers x little

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i-dared-myself · 4 months ago

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Luggage Gone

ATEEZ x reader

Requested by anonymous: Do you think you could write a fluffy ateez x 9th member reader where she's super petite and has to borrow one of the member's pyjamas/clothes for some reason (maybe she's been snowed in at their place or they're traveling and her bags were left behind) and now they're all teasing and uwuing bc she's smol in baggy clothes

CW: So I didn’t describe reader, but I made her really short so the clothes were baggy. Other than that, reader’s body size in not mentioned. Also there’s one sex joke.

“Unbelievable,” Hongjoong mutters furiously as he tries to unlocks the door. His fingers fumble with the keys and he curses.

Seonghwa eases the keys from his grasp, smiling gently. “Here.” He takes over the task and successfully opens the door, pushing it open for the rest of the group.

“I can’t believe our flight was cancelled,” Wooyoung whines. He lets out a heavy sigh and tosses his bags into the corner.

“At least you still have your things!” you snap, placing your hands on your hips. Your own luggage had been taken by the airport before the flight had been cancelled, and loaded onto an unknown airplane.

San shivers. “The snow is really piled up. It’s pretty bad out there.”

“Which is why they cancelled the flight,” Jongho dryly states. “They didn’t do it for the fun of it.”

“At least we still have this place for another night,” Seonghwa brightly says, gesturing to the empty cabin.

Everyone glares at him.

“I’m going to go see if there’s something for me to change into. Maybe I forgot to pack something,” you mutter. You’re soaking wet, like everyone else, and fed up with this.

Mingi raises an eyebrow. “Good luck with that. We did a check before we left, remember? There won’t be anything.”

You huff, rubbing at your face. “You’re right. I’ll just… Blow dry my clothes.”

Yunho hums. “Or you could wear something of ours?”

You tilt your head thoughtfully, considering the suggestion. “Yeah, that’s not the worst idea.”

Yeosang flexes his biceps. “I’ve been working out recently, so I don’t think mine would fit. On any of you.”

“You can just say that you don’t want me to touch your stuff.” You snort in amusement. “I don’t know who you think you’re fooling.”

Yeosang scowls. “Hey, I’m- I’m- Whatever.”

Seonghwa opens his luggage and roots through until he finds a hoodie. He hands it to you with a pointed look to the others. “Here.”

San gives you a set of sweatpants, and you shuffle off to the bathroom to change. You’re immediately faced with a problem.

Sure, you have what you would consider normal height, but look at them. They’re all tall freaks of nature. Like, why did they need to be so tall?

The sweatpants are bunched up at your ankles and the hoodie is down to your knees. But that’s okay. At least you’re warm now.

You shuffle out of the bathroom after hanging your wet clothes up to dry. It looks like everyone else has changed as well now, all gathered around the tv.

Hongjoong is the first to notice you, lips quirking before he stamps down his smile. He clears his throat. “Uh, hello.”

Wooyoung glances up, eyes narrowing. “That’s… special.”

Seonghwa presses his hands to his cheeks, squealing excitedly. “Look at you! You’re adorable!”

That’s what seems to break the dam. Everyone starts fawning over you, gushing about how precious you look.

Mingi grins from ear to ear. “That’s cute.”

Yunho flicks his eyes over you. “Don’t you just wanna-“ he makes a grunting noise, clenching his fists, “to her?”

San nods his agreement. “Absolutely.”

“Cuteness aggression is what it’s called, I think,” Jongho chimes in. “And yes. Just wanna squeeze her until she pops.”

You eye them all warily. “What the fuck?”

“Imagine how baggy it would’ve been with my clothes,” Yeosang seriously says. He looks down at his crotch. “The only thing bigger than my biceps is-“

“Okay!” Hongjoong loudly announces. “Come here.”

You pick up your pants off the ground and walk over to him. Hongjoong studies you carefully, eyebrows furrowed.

Then he pinches one of your cheeks. “Aw, look at you.”

You cover your face in embarrassment. “Stop it! It’s because you’re all too big! Too tall!”

“Or maybe you’re just really short,” Yunho remarks. “Our clothes look normal on us.”

“Because you’re tall!” you exclaim. You cross your arms in frustration.

Seonghwa clutches at his chest, not having heard anything you just said. “Come here!”

You roll your eyes, but approach him slowly. You brace yourself for another pinch to your cheeks, or maybe for them to strangle you to death. Cuteness aggression is a powerful and dangerous thing.

But instead he tugs you onto his lap and coos at you. He squeezes you tightly across the middle with a content sigh.

Jongho holds his arms out. “Gimme.”

Seonghwa reluctantly passes you along to Jongho, who grins widely. He ruffles your hair and you grumble at him.

“Not a toy,” you mutter angrily.

Jongho scoffs. “Then don’t look adorable. This is what happens when you’re cute around us.”

Mingi hums, rolling out his shoulders. “When’s it my turn?”

You squirm away from Jongho’s grasp, standing up. “I’m going to bed! And I’m mad at you all!”

Yeosang wiggles his fingers at you. “Aww, sure you are.”

“Don’t patronize me!” you snap. “I’m pissed off at you!”

San walks over and scoops you up, tossing you over his shoulder. He brings you right back to the couch and plops you down on Yunho, who pins you to his chest.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” you say, but lean into his touch. It’s been a long day…

“I should throw your luggage out more often,” Wooyoung comments casually.

Yunho has to hold you back as you try to lunge at Wooyoung, which officially puts an end to the evening.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @iwuberic @strawberryscentedd @lezleeferguson-120 @mbioooo0000 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

#ateez #ateez x reader #fluff

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loverslantern · 6 months ago

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The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: To obtain a mystic gun capable of destroying the demon that killed their mother, the group must team up with John and face off against vampires.

Warnings: cannon violence and gore, John Winchester, arguing, girl kissing (not really a warning but), slightly jealous Dean??, reader being a nerd

Word Count: 8.5k

Dead Man's Blood

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Outfit Board)

The cafe is quiet except for the distant chatter of conversations that melt together, the clinks of glasses and dishes, the clacking of a keyboard, and the shuffling of paper. So, maybe quiet isn’t the right word. Nevertheless, the steady background noise is peaceful. It brings me back to the days when I’d linger in cafes to study for an upcoming exam in both high school and college. Though, I suppose, looking through various obituaries and news articles to find our next hunt isn’t that different. “Well, man,” Dean starts, folding his newspaper. “Not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What’ve you got?”

I lean back in my seat, pushing away from the screen I’ve been looking out for God knows how long. “Nothing of note in Iowa, Kansas, or Missouri,” I announce, noting some of the states surrounding Nebraska. The various tabs open for each state are a little concerning. “Unless you count a woman in Iowa who managed to fall 10,000 feet from an airplane and survive.”

“Sounds more like ‘That’s Incredible’ than, uh, ‘Twilight Zone,’” Dean remarks.

“Yeah definitely weird but not that concerning,” I nod. It surely reeked of the supernatural because there was no human way to do that, but it also wasn’t a top-of-the-list concern when no one got hurt and it seemed like an isolated event.

“Hey, Sam, you know we could keep heading East. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh?” Dean suggests, smirking as he leans his elbows on the table. “Cool chick man, smokin’” he whistles. I shake my head, mentally grimacing. Yeah, she was attractive but to say it aloud and whistle about some girl your brother was clearly into? A little weird. “You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?”

“Yeah, I dunno, maybe someday,” he answers vaguely. “But in the meantime, we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that.”

“Yeah, alright,” Dean gives in.

“You get anything in the states you checked?” I ask Sam, knowing he had looked at Wyoming, Colorado, and South Dakota. More states that surround the state we currently reside in. “Yeah,” he exhales. “Uh, a man in Colorado. A local man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home.”

“That’s certainly one way to go,” I mumble.

“Elkins?” Dean echos. “I know that name.”

“You do?” I ask.

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Sam shakes his head.”Sounds like the police don’t know what to think,” he continues as his brother mumbles Elkins under his breath and pulls out their Dad’s journal. “At first they said it was some sort of bear attack and now, they’ve found some signs of robbery.”

“You know, sometimes it amazes me how the police solve anything,” I remark. Sure, if it’s supernatural related then they don’t have the upper hand of knowledge but seriously a bear attack and a robbery are two completely different things.

Dean hums absentmindedly in acknowledgment, flicking through the journal. “There, check it out,” he announces, flipping the book around for us to see. A phone number resides on the page right next to the name. “You think it’s the same Elkins?” Sam asks.

“It’s a Colorado area code,” Dean points out.

****

Sam kneels on the wooden porch, the flashlight illuminating his work with the lockpick. It’s not too long before the lock clicks, and the door creeps open with a turn and push.

“Looks like the maid didn’t come today,” Dean comments, looking over a table cluttered with books and papers. Otherwise, this room was pretty clean at least in terms of the crime. “Hey, there’s salt over here. Right beside the door,” Sam announces, lingering by the front door.

“You mean protection against demon salt or, ‘oops I spilled the popcorn’ salt?” Dean asks, his interest tuned into a journal he discovered on the desk.

My flashlight guides my eyes across the room. It didn’t happen in this room, it doesn’t seem like the perpetrator(s) came from the front door into the entryway. “It’s clearly a ring,” Sam clarifies. “You think this guy Elkins was a player?”

“Definitely,” he answers. I wander a little further into the house, the real mess lying in the next room over, the door knocked off its hinges. “That looks a hell of a lot like Dad’s,” Sam says. I look over my shoulder, and both boys are checking out the journal. “Yep, except this dates back to the 60s,” Dean responds.

I step into what looks to be an office, or what’s left of it. It’s pure destruction. If you told me a tornado came through this room I’d believe you. Broken and overturned furniture litter the floor, books and papers scattered about. I can barely see the floor, it's all covered. “Whoever this guy was, he put up a hell of a fight,” I comment as I carefully step further into the room, glass crunching beneath my shoe. Glass but no broken windows. “Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one,” Sam adds, looking up at the ceiling. I follow his gaze to the broken sunroof, the source of the glass.

Where did the police get a bear attack from even if he did have scratch marks on him? Did they think it fell into the sunroof? I could understand the robbery considering the mess, but a bear? Seriously? I shake my head at the thought, walking over to the cleared-off desk. Whatever was atop it was on the floor now. “Do you think whoever or whatever did this was looking for something?” I ask, taking in the mess again. Some of it was from fighting, but the desk's open draws, which were barely hanging on, suggests it may be more. It could be an added motive. “Maybe,” Sam answers before his attention turns over to his brother who is crouched down and examining the floor. “You got something?” Sam asks.

“I dunno,” he answers. “Some scratches on the floor.”

“Death throes maybe?” Sam suggests, referring to the last moments before the end.

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean says, grabbing a nearby notebook. He opens a page, placing it over the scratches before using a pencil to scratch over it revealing the marks better. “Or maybe a message.” He peels up the paper, some blood soaked into the back, but the markings are clear. “Look familiar?” He asks, holding it up.

“Three letters, six digits,” Sam answers. “The location and combination of a post office box. It’s a mail drop.” The message was an incredible feat to manage before death took him under. To be able to scatch it out…it must be more than important.

“Just the way Dad does it,” Dean adds.

****

A simple letter rests in Sam’s hand. The letter was found in the post office box. “‘J.W.’” Sam reads off the envelope, “You think that's John Winchester?”

“I mean your Dad clearly knew the guy,” I offer, his number is inside the journal. “Maybe he even learned this way of communicating from him.”

“Should we open it?” Dean asks, something uncertain yet insistent in his voice. But, no one gets to answer the question on each of our minds when, instead, there is a knock on the driver-side window. Dean gasps and flinches, his arm raised in defense. “Dad?” he breathes, his fist lowering. The door beside me opens then, hazel eyes looking at me expectantly. I raise my eyebrows with a tight-lipped smile as I scooch over. He takes my seat, closing the door behind him. “Dad, what are you doing here?” Sam asks. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he answers simply. He looks the same as the last time we saw him, with messy dark hair similar to Sam’s cut and a ragged beard. “I read the news about Daniel, I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three at his place.”

“Why didn’t you come in Dad?” Sam questions, his voice soft as if he knows the answer.

“You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren’t followed…by anyone or anything,” John responds. He sounds more paranoid than anything. It sounds like a sad excuse to avoid speaking and seeing his kids again, but I keep those thoughts to myself. “Nice job of covering your tracks by the way,” he compliments. And it’s like being buttered up before the roast— before you’re put right back on the fire that eats at you until you forget your self-worth.

“Yeah, well, we learned from the best,” Dean answers with a proud smile on his face as his chest puffs out a little bit.

“Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?” Sam points out.

“Yeah. He was... he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting,” he reveals. I guess I was somewhat right on my assumption. “Well, you never mentioned him to us,” Sam shrugs.

“We had a... we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years,” he explains, gesturing towards the envelope. “I should look at that.” Sam hands it over easily, and his father wastes no time in opening it. “'If you're reading this, I'm already dead',” he reads, trailing off. “That son of a bitch.”

“What is it?” Dean asks.

“He had it the whole time,” he answers vaguely as if we know what he's talking about. “Has what?” I ask. “When you searched the place, did you, did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?” He asks each question one right after the other almost frantically. “Uh, there was, there was an old case but it was empty,” Dean answers.

“They have it,” John announces.

“‘You mean whatever killed Elkins?” Dean asks. John opens the door, shifting to get out. “We gotta pick up the trail.” But before he can make it out of the vehicle Sam stops him, “Wait. ‘You want us to come with you?”

“If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun,” he explains, doing that thing where he’s insanely unhelpful.

“The gun–why?” Sam pushes. “Because it's important, that's why,” he replies. I roll my eyes, for a guy who wasn’t very present he managed to be incredibly irritating. “Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet,” Sam reasons.

“They were what Daniel Elkins killed best: Vampires,” he reveals, finally being helpful. “Vampires? I thought there was no such thing,” Dean answers.

“You didn’t?” I ask, surprised.

“You did?” He throws right back with a just as surprised tone as mine.

“Yeah,” I say like it's obvious. “I took down a nest back in college.” It was the first and only time I had encountered a vampire let alone a vampiric hunt. Students started to go missing, seemingly picked off one by one, and like any school word had spread quickly. It was weird, yes, but with no bodies and only having gossip I had nothing to work with. No one saw anything, the picks were clean and concise. Well, that was until certain bodies did show up. Four out of nine bodies were found, two were located near or around campus grounds, and the others were left in the town that was a short drive from the school. I managed to pull some strings and cash in ‘I owe you’ to see the bodies firsthand. My initial thought was vampires but the thought was more of a joke than anything, I thought I was watching too much Buffy. But then some research made a joke no longer a joke. It was vampires and I had to kill them.

I can remember it still, the way the heads went flying and how blood caked my clothes. Buffy makes it look cleaner than what it is.

“You did?” John asks, his voice dripping in disbelief and sass. “Don’t sound so surprised,” I mumble, my distaste for him almost painfully clear in the curl of my lip. He has been here for less than five minutes and I’m already a little irritated. I’d like to think that I’m not a hateful person, that I don’t hold grudges or malice but when it comes to John Winchester suddenly I’m the biggest hater you’ve ever seen. “Well, I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and—“ he throws a glare at me. “And others had wiped them out. I was wrong.” “You were,” I agree, smiling a little at the slow turn of his head as he stares at me with daggers.

“Most vampire lore is crap,” he starts, his voice gruff, looking back at his boys. “A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late.”

“The way to kill them is decapitation,” I add. “Interestingly enough the story to get it right is a work of fiction, though, of course, you could argue that it was only presented that way and the author knew more than any normal person would. The final blow in Carmilla, written by some Irish guy, is her head being struck off. Before that was a stake through the heart but, it’s interesting that he would add the decapitation aspect especially when it’s the first ever Vampire novel so it’s not like he changed things to be different.”

“Are you done?” John remarks, unamused.

“Yeah, now I am,” I respond, equally unamused with him.

“Wake up! Come on,” a voice demands. I grumble something incoherent, my fingers softly curling into the warmth beneath my hand. The something beneath my hand rumbles with the “Mm-hmm,” that follows from its lips.

My eyes squint open, my hand resting on Dean's chest, fingers clutching his shirt, his arm resting around my waist. We didn’t fall asleep like this when John hated the very idea of us sharing a bed even though we’d done it before. I know John doesn’t trust me, even though I haven’t done anything to warrant such feelings. It’s more like he doesn’t trust who I am and he makes it known with every look and side comment. Yet, as much as he hated it, he didn’t want me in a separate room because it would “waste time and money.” So, we had slept back to back which felt so horribly unnatural.

I do not make a move to separate from him. He rubs his eyes and I want to bury my face into the pillow in a desperate attempt to grasp onto the remains of sleep but the sight of his messy short hair going every which way, and his eyes barely being held open from the sleep that clings to them keeps my attention. Even on interrupted sleep, he looks so good. “I picked up a police call,” John announces, the faint noise of radio static proving his statement.

“What happened?” Sam asks, his voice laced with sleep. Dean’s hand drops from his eyes going, instead, to my hand on his chest. He gives it a little squeeze and it would be so easy to just fall back into a sweet sleep with the butterflies that dance in my stomach. But, the harsh reality of, well, reality comes crashing back when John answers, “A couple called 911, ‘found a body in the street. Cops got there. Blood was missing. It's the vampires.”

“How do you know?” Sam asks logically. But, John is already halfway out the door forgoing explanations as he typically does. “Just follow me, okay?” he responds, shutting the door behind him.

“Huh, vampires,” Dean muses, his eyes still half open. “Gets funnier every time I hear it.”

****

The spin of red and blue lights shatters the atmosphere, a long cloth placed over a body in the middle of the road, yellow tape sanctioning off the area as cops work the scene, and a certain irritating Winchester talking to a cop as we are forced to wait by the Impala like kids waiting while their parent talks to an old friend and you just know you’re going to be waiting forever. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have gone over with him,” Sam complains, sulking slightly.

“Should’ve let us sleep,” I agree, mumbling. I don’t see the point in dragging us from bed just to put us on the back burner, but I guess that’s John for you.

“Oh, don’t tell me it’s already starting,” Dean responds. “What's starting?” he asks. But he doesn’t get his answer as their father approaches, Dean putting his focus there. “What have you got?” he asks his Dad.

“It was them alright,” John confirms. “Looks like they’re heading west. We’ll have to double back to get around that detour.”

“How can you be so sure?” Sam asks, arms crossed.

“Sam…” Dean warns.

“I just wanna know we're going in the right direction,” he snaps at his brother.

“We are,” John answers vaguely.

“How do you know?”

John hands something small to Dean, answering with “I found this.”

Dean cups the long and sharp tooth in the palm of his hand. “It’s a…” he tries to find the words, “a vampire fang.”

“It’s not necessarily a fang,” I correct. “An entire set of teeth that look just like that descends when they attack, covering the normal set of teeth.”

“Any more questions?” John asks, looking at Sam expectantly, a certain bite to his words. Sam remains quiet, his eyes flicking away—the kind of answer his father wants. No, an answer he expects. “Alright, let’s get out of here, we’re losing daylight,” John orders. He walks to his truck, a vehicle I suddenly love because he doesn’t have to be in the same car as us. “Hey, Dean why don’t you touch up your car before you get rust?” he throws back the comment, “I wouldn’t have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it.”

I look at Dean with widened eyes. His face drops. Drops. My heart might as well drop with it. I dig my nails into my palms in an attempt to control my mouth, my teeth clenched painfully to hold in my own comment. I should make him apologize. I should do more than that but I know it will only make it worse for them and that is the last thing I want. Yet, saying nothing feels worse so the word slips out before I can reel it back in. “Asshole,” I grumble beneath my breath, opening the back door to the Impala.

“What’d you say?” John asks, seemingly having super hearing, pausing short of his truck. The stiffness in his shoulder is familiar, or similar. So, I duck into the car with an, “I didn’t say anything.” I expect him to say something or for him to make some sort of move. I see the unamused look on his face even as I close the door behind me, creating a barrier between us. I half expect him to drag me from the car and make me answer him. Dad said I never knew how to hold my tongue or when to stop. And maybe he was right.

*****

The Impala rolls down the road, following John’s truck. “Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten,” Dean reads from the passenger seat. “Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks. I wonder if that’s what happened to that 911 couple.”

“I didn’t see the corpses well enough but it’s likely,” I answer, though I don’t know why John didn’t let us see the body or do any work.

“It’s probably what Dad's thinking. ‘Course it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks,” Sam grumbles, a certain furrow to his brow. “So it is starting,” Dean remarks.

“What?”

Well, this is my queue to keep my comments to myself and let them talk this out.

“Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year,” he explains. “Now we're not with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?”

“Hm. No. Look, I'm happy he's ok, alright?” he responds. “And I'm happy that we're all working together again.” “Well good.”

“It’s just the way he treats us like we’re children,” Sam adds, seemingly unable to help himself. But I’m here for the John bashing.

“Oh God,” Dean mumbles.

“He barks orders at us Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal.”

Sam’s not wrong. His vagueness is one of his worst traits which is saying something because he has a long list of horrible traits. He’s really the King of being as vague and unhelpful as possible for a reason I simply can’t discern. Maybe it makes him feel like he has some power or the upper hand.

“He does what he does for a reason,” Dean reasons. “What reason?” Sam pushes.

“Our job!” Dean snaps. “There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, alright? That's just the way the old man runs things.” “I’d argue that leaving you guys in the dark can lead to more error,” I comment, accidentally saying my inside thoughts out loud. Luckily, I’m pretty much annoyed as Sam challenges his brother. “Yeah well maybe that worked when we were kids but not anymore, alright. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line, and letting him run the whole show?”

A heavy silence fills the car as Dean stares at his brother like he’s trying to muster the right words. “If that’s what it takes.”

****

We drive for what feels like an eternity, though it must only have been a couple of hours, the sky falling to darkness. Dean is on the phone with his father, keeping in touch with him even as we follow after his car. “Yeah, Dad. Alright, got it,” he answers before hanging up. “Pull off at the next exit.”

“Why?” Sam asks with a certain edge or bite to his voice.

“Cause Dad thinks we’ve got the vampire’s trail,” Dean responds.

“How?”

“I don’t know; he didn’t say.”

Suddenly I’m pushed back into my seat as the Impala goes faster, fast enough to overtake Johns truck. The car swerves in front of it, my body jerking sideways and forward as the vehicle swerves again and slams to a stop. My heart stammers in my chest as I look out the window, John's truck nearly missing the side of the Impala. “What the frick, S–” I yell, my cursing cut off as Sam gets out of the car. “Oh crap here we go,” Dean mumbles, following him out of the vehicle. I sigh, rolling my eyes, as much as I expected an argument to break out this is a very dramatic and dangerous way to start it. Even so, I follow them out of the Impala as Dean calls out for his brother.

“What the hell was that?” John yells, stomping over to his son.

“We need to talk.”

John steps closer, getting face to face with him and I half expect him to grab Sam by the collar and shake some “sense” into him. “About what?”

“About everything. Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?”

“Sammy, come on, we can Q and A after we kill all the vampires,” Dean says.

“You’re brothers right, we don’t have time for this,” John adds. “Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now out of the blue, you need our help,” Sam yells. “Now obviously something big is going down, and we wanna know what!” “Get back in the car.” “No.” “I said get back in the damn car.” “Yeah. And I said no.”

“Okay, you made your point tough guy,” Dean tries again, hovering between his father and his brother. But, of course, his words are directed at his brother. “Look we're all tired, we can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on.” Dean grabs him, pushing him back toward the car. He gives in, allowing his brother to move him along even as he glares at his father, mumbling, “This is why I left in the first place.” “What’d you say?”

Sam steps forward, snapping back, “You heard me.”

“Yeah. You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam.”

“Sam…” Dean warns.

“You walked away!” John yells in his face.

“Come on, stop,” I urge, trying to push John back as Dean had tried with his brother. But he just shoves me off, forcing me back a couple of steps. “You're the one who said don't come back Dad, you closed that door, not me. You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!”

Dean jumps in the middle, forcing them apart. “Listen, stop it, stop it. Stop it!! That's enough!!” They don’t say another word; they just glare at each other over Dean’s head. “That means you too,” Dean adds, looking at his father. Despite the harsh words that linger in the air and the unspoken jabs that are begging to be said, they back off. Each step back into their vehicles. Dean sighs, the tension clear in his shoulders until he turns to me, brows furrowed as he half yells, “Are you okay?” The question is genuine despite how harsh they sound escaping his lips. There's a silence that falls between us; I don’t know why he asks me; it’s not like I was the one arguing. Perhaps it was because I stumbled back as his father shoved me or because he knows I do not like arguments. Either way, I nod silently, and he gives a single nod back, the stress soon returning to his face.

With the sun on our back and the tree line at our front, blocking us, I watch a beat-up Camaro pull up the old barn. A man in a t-shirt walks up to the car, shielding his eyes as he escorts the person inside and making a very good guess it’s likely they’re both vampires. “Son of a bitch,” Dean curses. “So they’re really not afraid of the sun?”

“Direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill ‘em is by beheading,” John answers and I roll my eyes at the repetition especially when half the information is something I already said. “And yeah, they sleep during the day—doesn’t mean they won’t wake up.”

“So I guess walking right in’s not our best option,” Dean remarks.

“Actually, that’s the plan,” John answers, immediately creeping from the treeline back to where the Impala and his truck are parked.

Weapons are handed out like candy on Halloween night, the machete's blade seeming to gleam as the sun hits it just right. Grasping the hilt reminds me of that day long ago, how my hand shook as I killed the first vampire. They look human, and the blood that falls is so human that it’s like killing one instead of a vampire. I had to remind myself they weren’t human and that they killed so many. Then, it was almost too easy.

“So, you really wanna know about this Colt?” John suddenly asks. “Yes sir,” Sam answers.

It's just “a story, a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter,” he starts. “Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo. They say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. ‘Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow Daniel got his hands on it. They say... they say this gun can kill anything.”

Something unsettling settles in my gut, something I don’t want to discern. We aren’t in the nest, and yet it’s like the fight-or-flight instinct has kicked in. “Kill anything like supernatural anything?” Dean asks. The same thought eats at my mind but where concern hits me surprise hits him.

“Like the demon,” Sam connects, and I feel foolish. Maybe it’s a survival instinct, or maybe it’s selfishness that makes me worry more about a weapon that can kill me rather than a gun that can kill the yellow-eyed demon. I don’t think I’ve ever been afraid of dying, at least not totally, especially when what I am makes it incredibly difficult to kill me, to begin with. But now I’m aware of something that can. It won’t be like a bullet wound you can maybe heal from; there won’t be hope—just death. Gone in the blink of an eye with no goodbye or warning.

“Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun -- we may have it,” John answers.

I want to be happy for them. I’m trying to be happy. I’m trying to push the fear away because isn’t it an irrational one? But I am scared. What if I don’t get a goodbye? What if it winds up in the wrong hands and I’m at the other end of it? Technically, right now it is in the wrong hands if the vampires do have it. “No offense, I'm glad this is an opportunity to get the damn thing,” I start, my fear turning into anger. “But did you, oh, I don't know, plan on informing us about this before we go into the place that has this gun, or was it Sam that convinced you?” I’m not an idiot; I am aware of the possibility that this could’ve been left out for God knows how long. “I mean, this could literally kill me, like end-end me, and you were just gonna, what, not mention it? ‘Cause it would’ve been a great warning.”

He doesn’t answer, and I’m not sure if he’s going to acknowledge me, which is answer enough. I move to try to get in his way. “You know, somehow I find a new reason to dislike you, which is kind of impressive.” I know I’m being mean as if a jab could heal the panic in my veins.

“You should be grateful I haven’t sent your ass back home,” he bites.

“Yeah well, this ass saved your life back with the Daeva’s.”

“Y/N,” Dean says, carefully touching my arm. But I step out of his hold, my shoulders going up as if trying to un-feel the touch, which is weird because I never do that with him. “No, Dean, this is serious,” I reason, my voice higher in an attempt to be louder, though it never nears a yell. I don’t dare look at him, weary of the hurt that might pass over his face.

“Were you going to say something if Sam hadn’t called you out?” I ask him again. But, I’m sure I know the answer. He pauses for a beat too long, and I feel foolish again. I’m arguing with a guy who couldn’t care less about what happens to me. The anger simmers in my gut, bubbling down until it’s replaced by shame. “You know what? Never mind,” I give up. “Let’s just go kill the vampires.” I shake my head, walking away from the group towards the run-down barn.

I creep between the trees, careful of where I step so that I don’t make a sound, even though I’m outside the barn. I take a couple of deep breaths as I walk; I need to have a clear head. This isn’t the kind of hunt you can be careless on; one wrong move and it all goes up in flames. I clear my head of any leftover anger or negative emotions; I need to lead with focus, not emotions.

I move closer to the barn, finding a window that looks easy to get into without making so much noise. That is key. I lift myself onto the thin windowsill, cautious as to not let my legs or any body part slam into the wall. And with the knowledge that the boys are close behind, I move into the barn. I move silently, first observing the layout and the countless hammocks filled with vampires as well as the occasional vamp that rests on the floor.

Ever so slowly, I move forward, careful to step over the beer bottles as I move as quietly as a mouse. Inch by inch, I lurk towards a random vampire in a hammock. A lone vampire, or at least one that’s farthest away from the others, even if far isn’t far at all.

I stand over his sleeping figure like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. Ever so carefully, I lift my blade, hovering it above its neck. With one quick motion, I know I am a hypocrite. Blood drips down its neck in waves like a relentless ocean; its eyes shoot open as the blade is plunged deeper. Its mouth parts in an attempt at a screech it can’t possibly make as its head is severed from its body. It did not get to warn the others. It did not get to say goodbye.

I pull my blade from the mess; blood seeps into the fabric of the hammock and drips to the floor. I sense the Winchesters enter the barn as I pick my next target. The goal is to get as many asleep so that should they wake, it’d be a slightly easier fight. Again, I take my stance over a vampire when I hear the faint clink of a glass bottle knocking over. I hold incredibly still, so still, I feel like the narrator in “Tell-Tale Heart.”

By luck alone, the vampire beneath my gaze does not stir, nor do any others. I turn my head slowly to where the noise originated, seeing Dean and Sam at the other end of the barn near each other. I swallow roughly, focusing in on the task at hand. Again, I drive my blade into the pale neck of the resting creature, blood spraying onto my cheek. I move to the next, stalking forth with my raised blade when an unearthly roar breaks the silence. The vampire beneath my gaze shoots up, clutching my wrist before I can lay the blade onto it. The machete vanishes from my hand, appearing in my other. I swing the blade; the cut is uncoordinated and messy in my non-dominant hand, slashing off its hand. My wrist is free as the limb goes flying, a horrible screech coming from the vampire as it clutches its wrist, blood spurting from where the hand used to be, bone exposed to the air. Glass shatters somewhere overhead, and I switch the weapon back to my dominant hand, unable to get another swing in when I dodge the lunging vampire.

“Run!” John yells from the same direction as the broken glass. I sidestep just in time, narrowly avoiding a swing from a vampire lunging at me. More of them surge toward me, their snarls filling the air. Reluctantly, I turn and run. My heart pounds in my chest, the sound almost drowning out the thudding of their footsteps behind me. I race toward the back of the barn, but there’s no clear exit—just solid walls and shadows. I sprint toward one of the walls. My legs push forward harder, willing myself to pass through before I crash into it.

The world blurs for a heartbeat, and then I stumble forward, my feet skidding on the dirt outside. I glance back, breathless, at the wall I just passed through. A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips, I’m getting really good at the whole teleporting thing. But enough celebrating, I quickly round the outskirts of the barn and make my way up the hill to where the distinct figures of the Winchesters wait. A look of relief passes over Sam and Deans face at the sight of me but I can’t say the same for John. I know he doesn’t care if I get injured or die.

“They won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life,” John informs, slightly out of breath. “Well, what the hell do we do now?” Dean asks.

I wipe the blood from my cheek with the back of my sleeve, glad that I decided to wear dark clothes today. “I’ll go back in there and finish it,” I answer.

“No, you’re not,” Dean declares, taking a single step toward me.

“Why not?” I ask. “I already killed two and—”

“You did?” John cuts me off, reflecting the same surprise he did before.

“No, my machete is just normally covered in blood.”

“You’re not goin’ back in,” Dean says firmly.

“Dean—”

“Not on my watch.” “Oh, come on. This is quicker than waiting until night and you can have your special gun sooner,” I reason, following him as he walks away.

“Not happening.”

“Don’t you want that gun?”

He stops short of the Impala's trunk, his expression firm as he faces me. “Not at the expense of your life.” His eyes are set on mine, a challenge burning behind his irises.

“I’m very capable of doing it myself,” I argue, my chin raised to meet his gaze head-on.

“I know you are,” he replies, his voice low and sure. “‘Doesn’t mean I’m lettin’ you go.”

“I don’t have to listen to you, you know,” I point out, the words sounding childish on my tongue. His brow arches, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his face. He wets his lips, voice dropping lower, “I don’t see you goin’.”

The words hang heavy between us. He’s got me, and he knows it. I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming in my throat. His eyes drop briefly, flicking to the small space between us like he’s daring me to move. He tilts his head slightly, waiting, his confidence annoyingly attractive. His fingers brush my wrist, featherlight, trailing down the inside. It tickles my skin, my breath hitching slightly, loosening my hold on the machete. He doesn’t rush—his hand glides lower, steady, until he slides the weapon from my grasp as if he already knew my answer before I had the chance to utter it.

“We’ll need dead man’s blood,” I manage, my voice quieter than I intended. His eyes flick back to mine, dark and unreadable, the weapon now clasped firmly in his hand alongside his own. He nods, his lips parted slightly.

****

After splitting up from John and Sam—and some lying and distracting on our part— Dean and I managed to grab the dead man's blood from the local funeral home. Afterward, it took some extensive convincing, including arguing that it would be safer for me to act as bait instead of Dean to be where I am now.

Now, I lean over the car’s popped hood, peering at the engine while the Winchesters watch from somewhere in the trees. “Car trouble?” a woman's voice asks. I turn around to see a dark-haired woman with thin eyebrows and striking blue eyes standing with another girl lingering behind. It didn’t take them long to show up. “Let me give you a lift. I’ll take you back to my place,” she purrs.

I lean against the front of the Impala, tilting my head slightly as I eye her. “I’m sure you’d like that,” I respond, biting my bottom lip, purposefully teasing. She steps closer as expected, so close I can smell the lingering metallic scent of blood on her mouth as well as her strong perfume. She grabs my jaw roughly, her fingertips digging in as she holds my face firmly, forcing my head back an inch so that she can use our small height difference to her advantage. I let her do what she wants, I’m not afraid of her or the other vampire. I’m just here to get her close enough for a good shot. “Would you like that?” she asks, spinning my question.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not Buffy and you’re not Spike,” I smile teasingly.

Her smile deepens, turning a little wicked. “You know, I should kill you for what you did to them.”

And I know she’s talking about the two I killed and the third I hurt. “Will you?” I challenge. I’m sure she won’t, at least not now. They like to play with their food. So, just as expected her eyes trace down my face, the collum of my neck, and dip beneath my shirt. “We could have some fun first,” she answers, eyes tracing back up.

Her head tilts down, her hold on my face tightening as her lips brush mine. Her hand slips to the back of my head, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging. My lips part in a groan, my head harshly bent back, giving her the chance to crash her lips to mine. She kisses me roughly and fast, all teeth and tongue before pulling away and licking her lips as if savoring the taste. “Heard you had a boyfriend,” I remark. “You think he’d mind you–” She cuts me off with her lips, teeth clashing with mine. My hands grasp the Impala behind me, the cold metal digging into my palms contrasting with the heat of her mouth.

She gasps, an almost choking noise as she pulls away and I know the shot has been taken. My eyes fall to her chest, the arrowhead sticking out. “Dammit,” she curses. The Winchesters emerge from the trees, crossbows in hand and unreadable expressions on their faces. Her hands fall from my face as she steps back, my chest heaving a little as I try to catch my breath. “It barely even stings,” she claims.

“Give it time, sweetheart,” John answers. “That arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood. It’s like poison to you, isn’t it?”

Real surprise passes over her features, a hand coming up to cradle where she’s been hit as she staggers backward, wavering before she collapses to the asphalt. “Load her up,” John directs, moving to the other vampire who’s also on the floor with an arrow through her. “I’ll take care of this one.”

I turn around, shutting the hood of the car just as I hear the familiar squelch of blood.

****

The campfire burns bright in the middle of the small clearing of woods. She's still unconscious, secured with a rope around her that she could tear easily the moment she awakens. “Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready,” John orders as he walks back into the clearing with his eldest son in tow.

Dean sniffs the bag contents and coughs, “Stuff stinks!”

“That’s the point. It has to be strong enough to cover your scent,” I smile while simultaneously feeling bad for finding his reaction to the ingredients funny. “You can dust your clothes with the ashes and they, hopefully, won't be able to detect you.” I move to him, willing to take the bag from his grimacing face.

“‘You sure they’ll come after ‘er?” Sam asks as I carefully separate and dump the ingredients into the fire.

“Yeah,” John answers. “Vampires mate for life—”

“Didn’t seem she cared about that with Y/N” Dean remarks, cutting off his father. I give him a pointed look. And he just responds with, “What? She was the one who looked real into you.” There's a certain edge to his voice that I can’t quite discern, something almost snarky.

“Well, one thing interpretations got right about vampires is how inherently sexual they are,” I explain. “I’m not sure why but I guess it makes sense considering how they take the blood is intimate.” Still, Dean doesn’t seem particularly satisfied with that answer.

“She means more to the leader than the gun,” John continues. “But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time.” “A half-hour oughta do it,” Sam answers. “And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can,” John orders.

“But…”

“Well, Dad you can’t take care of them all yourself,” Dean cuts his brother off.

“I'll have her and the Colt,” John reasons.

“That’s hardly a lot of protection,” I point out.

“And if I remember you wanted to go in with less,” he bites back.

“I also have abilities that you don’t. I can stay with you, ‘make sure you get it safely.”

“‘Don’t need your protection,” he answers. I figure ego has some part of his decision so I drop it, if he doesn’t want backup then he doesn’t want it.

“But after. We're gonna meet up, right?” Sam asks. “Use the gun together. Right?” There's a long pause, the question hanging in the air for one too many seconds. “You're leaving again, aren't you? You still wanna go after the demon alone. You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like children,” Sam answers firmly. “You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe,” he reasons. I bite back my comment about how ironic that is coming from him as I walk a couple of steps away. “Dad, all due respect but, uh, that's a bunch of crap,” Dean says, all heads snapping to him. “Excuse me?”

I half expect him to back off, instead, he doubles down. “You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe.” “It's not the same thing, Dean.” “Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?” “This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive.” “You mean you can't be as reckless.”

“Look... I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece.” The atmosphere seems to change, becoming a little heavier in the wake of his words. “Your mother's death ... it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't.”

I’m sure there is some truth to his words but at the same time, he's been a horrible father to them, leaving them alone as mere kids to fend for themselves, forcing them into the hunting world at a young age, and even bringing them on hunts when they should’ve been worrying about school not their lives. “What happens if you die?” Dean points out. “Dad, what happens if you die, and we coulda done something about it? You know I’ve been thinking. I ...think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together.”

Sam nods.

“We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it,” Dean argues. It may sound cheesy but it holds merit. “We're running out of time. You do your job and you get out of the area. That's an order.” His answer is unsurprising and yet the way Dean looks down and the way Sam clenches his jaw makes me want to deck John Winchester until he agrees.

****

We quickly follow after John, having already killed the vampires in the barn and freed the container of people they had. Of course, it’s against what we were directed to do but we aren’t exactly known for following rules, so there's that. We ditched the Impala some ways back, sticking to the trees with our crossbows as we approached John's truck and the group of vampires.

We arrive in time to see John get knocked to the ground, his plan going south immediately. He’s backhanded into the door of his truck just as one of many arrows flies through the air, hitting the other vampires that crowd around. We emerge from the trees and I switch my crossbow to my off-hand to unseathe my machete. I easily walk up to one and in one clean motion send their head flying, the body buckling to the floor.

Quickly I turn, my crossbow raised to shoot a vampire that was creeping up on Dean. “Don't!” someone yells. I pause, eyes landing on a vampire who looks like a rock band reject with his arm around Sam’s neck while Dean tries to lurk forward with a machete. “I'll break his neck. Put the blade down,” the man orders. Everything stands still for a moment as I drop both my weapons. Dean, however, pauses until the man tightens his hold on Sam’s neck and then the machete is dropped to the ground with a clink.

Suddenly, the man’s arm is forced from Sam’s neck. It shakes as it's pulled away by an invisible force, his face contorting with confusion as he loses the ability to control his limbs. My head tilts slightly as I control him, forcing his other arm to remain at its side so that Sam is free to stumble away, his brother immediately dragging him behind him. The knees of the man buckle, forcing him to kneel on the asphalt. “You people. Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do,” the man cries and I falter.

I falter. The one thing you’re never supposed to do in a fight. But, it doesn’t matter because his head is cleaned off his body before he can get up. John standing behind him, blood dripping from his machete. “Lutherrrr!!!!” the girl from before screams a horrible guttural scream that seems to reverberate in my ears. She’s dragged away by another vampire, fighting against their hold as she stares down John and her lover's body.

I stand over the little table in the motel room making sure I didn’t leave anything when John enters—the first we’ve seen him since last night. “So boys,” he starts immediately, the door closing behind him feeling like a death sentence.

“Yes sir,” Sam answers, both boys straightening out like soldiers.

“You ignored a direct order back there,” he starts.

“Yes sir,” Sam answers. “Yeah, but we saved your ass,” Dean intervenes, nervous looks thrown his way from Sam and I.

“You're right,” John, surprisingly, nods. “I am?”

“It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So...we go after this damn thing. Together.” “Yes sir,” they say in unison.

“And I guess you can be there too,” he adds, looking over at me.

(Next Chapter)

Tag List: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra @fablesrose @ada--44 @bonkydarnes @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara @mxltifxndom @stilesxreid @chaotic-luvrs @tiggytaylor @deanwasscaredbyacat @imaginexred @daisychaingirl @ugvvguggvvgu @yasmin12312 @squishytap

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #the hunter and the witch #sam winchester #dean winchester x witch reader #slow burn #john winchester #supernatural season one #dean winchester jealous #dean winchester x f!reader #dean winchester x reader series #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x f!reader series #john winchester as a warning #vampires

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chariaki · 11 months ago

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Budding romance

Upperclassman!Rin x Underclassman!reader ❤️

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who waits at the convenience store near your house so he can walk to school together with you.

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who always walks you to your classroom, opens the door for you and says "Goodluck with today, text me." while patting your head, before he goes his seperate way to his classroom which is a floor higher.

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who smirks when he sees you blushing after hearing your classmate's teasing squels and remarks about your boyfriend seeing you off before class starts.

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who immediately takes his food, walk out his classrlom door while ignoring his friend's teasing remaks, and waits for you outside your classroom when the lunch break bell rings.

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who enjoys eating lunch with you anywhere, as long as he's with you.

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who doesn't eat the food you offer him unless you spoonfeed it to him, specifically with the cute airplane noises and gestures you make.

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who wipes food crumbs, sauces, or drink residues from your mouth by either:

1) Using his hand to hold your chin while his thumb wipes your lips. Then, licking his thumb with a smile while holding eye contact with you.

2) Using his hankerchief and wiping it across your mouth then putting his hankerchief inside your pocket.

3) Kissing you to nibble and lick away the food residues. His personal favorite.

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who sneakily uses his phone to text you and send silly selfies of him when teachers give a free time or a self study tine for the class.

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who doesn't mind waiting for you outside the girl's bathroom when you asked him to accompany you because all your friends were busy.

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who walks always holds your hand first when walking the hallways.

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who likes holding your hand inside his jackets' pockets.

Boyfriend!Rintaro who loves lending you his varisty jacket.

Upperclassman!Rintaro who excuses himself to the bathroom just to text you and asks to borrow specific school supplies that he forgot to bring.

Girlfriend & Underclassman!reader who knocks on boyfriend's senior classroom door, enters the room, greets the teacher and says you're here for Suna Rintaro.

Upperclassman!Rintaro who blushes and tells his teasing classmates to shut up and then get scolded by the teacher for his foul language, but eventually permits him to talk to you.

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who thanks you for coming up to his classroom to lend him your things, by pecking your forehead and pinching your cheeks.

Boyfriend!Rintaro who always tags you in his ig stories.

Boyfriend!Rintaro who always sends you silly cat gifs and cute animal reels because he knows you love them.

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who's happy to see you always wait for him and cheer him on during his after-school volleyball practices, sitting so pretty in the benches for him.

Boyfriend!Rintaro who shamelessly holds you close to him by your waist while you're feeding him your homemade sandwhich during his training's break.... and yes, in front of his teammates.

Boyfriend & Upperclassman!Rintaro who always walks you home with his arm around your shoulders as he listens to you yap about your day.

Boyfriend!Rintaro who, even though you do it everyday, still blushes when you hug him as thanks for walking you home.

Boyfriend!Rintaro who always texts you to tell you that he has safely arrived home.

Boyfriend!Rintaro who tries to beat you in sending "good morning" and "good night" texts first, but you always beat him to it.

Boyfriend!Rintaro who gets flustered when you send him selfies of you.

Boyfriend!Rintaro who replies "pretty ❤️"

Boyfriend!Rintaro who stares at your selfies for uncountable minutes at uncountable times a day.

Boyfriend!Rintaro who comments at your instagram posts with "my pretty girlfriend 👑💯💯👏👏🔥🔥 "

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azzibuckets · 1 year ago

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COMPLETE MESS [paige bueckers]

paige bueckers x teacher!oc

summary: natasha meets one of her students’ sisters, and she’s enthralled

a/n: lmk if yall want me to make more parts!

word count: 3.3k

masterlist

I stretched out my back with a groan. I loved teaching; it had been my dream job since I was a kid, but sometimes it drained the life out of my bones. Third graders could be an absolute menace, especially on days like today where they’d figured out how to make paper airplanes and had started flying them across the room, sneakily giggling whenever my back was turned.

It didn’t help that later tonight would be open house, when the families of students would come to visit the school to see for themselves what their children have been learning and working on for the past few months. The parents were always nice enough, but it was a drag having to clean up the classroom, hang up everyone’s projects, and decorate the walls and desks.

I checked my watch. Half an hour to go. I knew some eager children hauling their parents along would start arriving soon, so I smoothed down my skirt. I had to make good impressions, considering the fact that a lot of parents didn’t take me seriously because of how young I was.

Wanting to greet parents in the hallway as they entered my classroom, I stepped outside, but there must have been someone waiting directly outside the door because I heard a thump and a little “Ow!” Panicking at the idea of having just sent a little kid sprawling to the fooor in front of their parents, I rushed around the door, breathing in relief when I only saw one of my students, Drew, with no parents in sight.

“Drew, buddy,” I laughed. “What’re you doing?”

Drew pouted, trying to collect the pieces of Legos that were now scattered across the floor. “I was waiting because the door was locked and you hit me!”

I bent down and started picking up Lego pieces. “What have I told you about standing there, Drew?” I reminded him. Drew was one of my favorite students - he was hyper and often forgot about things like not standing behind the door, but he was so cheerful and positive all the time that I couldn’t help but always smile at his mischievous antics.

“I know, I just got excited! My mom and dad are coming to see my Lego project and so is my big sister!”

I ruffled his hair. “Your big sister! Woah! I would love to meet her.” I couldn’t remember her name, I think it started with a P, but Drew talked about her all the time, and I could tell that he absolutely adored her. “Where are your parents, by the way? You’re very early.”

“I made them come early,” Drew explained, finally grabbing the last Lego and dumping all the pieces unceremoniously into his backpack. “But Paige had to pee, so they went to the bathroom. I think I was supposed to wait outside for them but I wanted to come here!”

“Alright.” I got up, offering a hand to Drew, who accepted but pulled so hard he almost dragged me down again. “Come inside and sit while you wait. But don’t mess around, alright?”

Much to my surprise, Drew stayed quiet in his seat, not making any noise. I busied myself with adjusting the posters on the wall for what seemed like the hundredth time. A piece of tape had gotten loose on one of the papers, and just as I reached to fix it, the entire poster came tumbling to the ground. Signing, I bent down to pick it up.

“Damn, I could study this,” a deep voice whistled from behind me.

I immediately straightened myself, mortified. Cheeks burning, I turned around to reprimand whoever had just made a ridiculously inappropriate joke in a classroom setting, with a student sitting just feet away.

Leaning against the doorway was a blonde woman, whose hair was pulled back into a clean ponytail with shockingly no flyaways. She looked young, but was intimidatingly tall. Although she wasn’t smiling, her deep blue eyes were dancing with amusement, her slightly cocked eyebrows showing intriguement. Both hands were stuffed into the pocket of her sweatpants, her stance nonchalant. Whoever she was, she was gorgeous, with one of those faces people would pause and look back at if they passed on the street.

My mouth opened, but all semblances of what was supposed to be a lecture on respecting women faded. I didn’t know why my throat was suddenly dry, my heart suddenly pounding against my chest so hard I feared my ribs would break.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to end up saying anything, because Drew jumped up from his seat and ran to the blonde. “Miss Natasha!” he exclaimed. “Meet Paige, my sister!”

My eyebrows shot up. This was Drew’s sister? All this time, you’d been imagining a timid and sweet girl, not someone who was dressed in basically pajamas but still looked like they stepped out of a magazine.

Paige stepped closer to me, a dangerous smirk playing on the edge of her lips. “I’m Paige Bueckers,” she introduced herself. “Very nice to meet you.”

My jaw tightened. I didn’t appreciate this girl’s cocky attitude. I’ve known girls like Paige before; sexy and alluring, but with egos up their asses, who thought that they could flirt with you and do whatever they wanted because they were drop dead gorgeous. Especially considering the treatment I often faced, with fathers of my students often making suggestive remarks and creepy innuendos, causing their wives to get angry at me as if it was my fault that their husbands couldn’t stop ogling at someone twenty years younger than them. So I finally gathered my courage. “I don’t know who you think you are,” I said lowly, trying not to let Drew hear, “but you don’t get to come into my classroom and start making unseemly advancements. Especially in front of my students.”

Paige’s eyes flitted down, tracing my face and dropping for a second to my lips before slowly dragging its way down my body. She was blatantly and unashamedly undressing me with her eyes, and I almost reached for my jacket.

“Unseemly,” she echoed, nodding to herself. “Yeah. Definitely a teacher.”

I rolled my eyes, already frustrated. “Drew,” you said sweetly, bending down to look him in the eye. “Where are your parents?”

“They ran into one of his friends’ parents,” Paige responded for him. “But I’m here. Why don’t you walk me through everything, teach?”

I loathed myself for the way my heart skipped a beat at her stupid nickname. “It’s hard to walk you through Drew’s progress this trimester if you’re constantly trying to flirt with me,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Paige, stop making Miss Natasha mad!” Drew intervened, giving his sister a little push and running to give you a hug. You smiled gratefully at the little boy, taking delight in the way Paige’s eyes narrowed with jealousy.

“Whatever, I can be chill. But I actually wanna see the projects Drew’s been talking about, so can we get started?” The blonde asked impatiently, as if she hadn’t been the one obnoxiously flirting.

So I started showing Drew’s works that he’d created the past few months. When I got to the Lego Fortnite set he’d built, he’d started rambling about the project and going into a detailed explanation of how he built it. I could see Paige attentively listening at first, but as Drew kept talking, her attention slowly shifted to me.

“Whenever we Facetime, Drew talks about his teacher a lot,” Paige mused quietly as Drew paused his tangent to look over the set and make sure all the pieces were intact. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” Her eyes darted to me again, and I wondered at how anybody ever talked to this girl with how intense her stare was.

I chewed my lip. It was always nice seeing the impact U made on your kids; it made all the hard work and tears worth it. It’s what I’ve always aimed to do - change their lives. “Thank you,” I said softly. “Same with you. Drew won’t ever shut up about you, especially at recess when the kids are playing basketball. You play, right?”

Paige’s eyes shined, a smile forming on her face. “I am. I play at UConn.”

I gaped at her. “Please don’t tell me you’re a freshman in college.” Although she had been the one making the innuendos, it still made me uncomfortable at the idea of an 18 year old even thinking about me this way.

Thankfully, Paige shook her head. “I’m 22. A senior. You?”

“I’m 24.”

Paige grinned again. “Perfect. Not too old for me then.”

I rolled my eyes, my annoyance returning. “Do you have no shame? I could have a significant other for all you’d know. I’m also your brother’s teacher.”

Paige tilted her head, studying me. “Do you have a significant other?” Her tone made it clear that she already knew the answer.

“That’s not important,” I said looking away. The corners of Paige’s lips turned upwards, and I wanted to punch the satisfaction off her face.

“I’ve actually always thought teachers were very attractive,” Paige murmured, her tone now husky. She leaned in closer to me, one hand stabilizing herself on the desk. “With their glasses and their skirts.” Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip.

“I’m not wearing glasses,” I stammered. Every cell in my body was screaming at myself to back away and create some distance between me and this random girl, but I couldn’t.

“Maybe not, but you’re wearing a skirt. Although to be honest, I’d like it better if there was nothing there at all,” she rasped. She leaned in closer, the atmosphere between us now charged, but at the same moment Drew’s parents walked in.

I immediately jumped up and stumbled backwards, humiliated at having been caught in such a position with their daughter. I chastised myself - how could I be acting so unprofessionally while on the job? We hadn’t done anything wrong, per se, but the proximity we’d been sitting in was definitely way beyond what was appropriate for a teacher and one of their students’ family members.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bueckers!” I squeaked, clearing my throat and ignoring the way Paige started smirking as she observed my awkwardness. “So nice to see you guys again!”

Bob Bueckers looked curiously between the two of us, but nonetheless he stuck out his hand and flashed a friendly smile. “Miss Natasha! How have you been?”

I re-explained to the Bueckers all of Drew’s activities and achieevments, but this time with Paige silently burning me with her relentless gaze from behind her dad and step-mom. Every time I glared at her in an effort to get her to stop, her intensity only increased. I hated how flustered she was able to make me without even saying a word, so as soon as I finished, I quickly excused myself to talk to other parents.

Somewhere in the midst of my conversations with other families, the Bueckers disappeared, and I assumed they went to visit Drew’s other teachers. I tried to get Paige out of my mind, but for the entire night her face was burned into the back of my mind, God knows why. It seemed like the longest night ever - an endless stream of parents all fighting for my attention so they could talk about their kid, combined with my short interactions from Paige earlier that night still nagging at me. Unsurprisingly, I was completely exhausted by the time open house night ended.

It was almost 10 PM when I finished cleaning and wrapping up for the night. I locked up my classroom and headed to the bathroom for a quick pit stop before leaving. As I walked past the gym, though, I swore I heard sounds filtering in from under the doors. I paused, unsure of what to do. The gym was definitely supposed to be closed by now; almost the entire school was empty and dark save a couple janitors and lingering teachers. But it was getting late, and I honestly didn’t want to have to deal with another issue. Besides, I wasn’t sure if I even heard a noise.

So I turned around and kept walking, until a loud giggle followed by a “Shhh!” turned my feet right back. Marching to the front entrance, I tried to open the doors, but was met with resistance. Huffing, I pushed harder, but whoever was on the other end was strong. I gave one last push before jogging to the side entrance. This time, the door opened with ease, showing a completely empty gym - except for a familiar blonde woman and one of your students leaning against the doors at the front entrance.

Heat flooded your cheeks, and this time it wasn’t from embarrassment, but from anger. “Are you serious right now?” I stomped aggressively towards the two culprits, both of whom looked like guilty children that’d just been caught eating chocolate in the middle of the night - except one was a 22 year old college student who definitely knew better. “I cannot believe this is real right now.” I ran your head through my hair, my voice shocked with disbelief. “How did you even get in here?” I looked around, realizing that there had to be at least 20 basketballs scattered across the floor of the gym. “And where did all these balls come from?”

Paige scratched the back of her neck, sheepishness on her face. “Uh, we might’ve found a way to get into the storage room.”

“How did you even get inside the gym in the first place?” You shrieked, trying not to lose full control over yourself.

Paige winced. “I might’ve taught Drew how to pick locks? And he was trying to show me how much he’s been practicing.” She looked over at her little brother in desperation, who in turn ran behind her and started hiding behind her legs. “I mean, I didn’t think he’d actually be able to unlock the gym when he started showing me!” Paige justified. “But then he unlocked it and then I saw the court and I couldn’t not get a few hoops in.” She trailed off at that last part, slowly realizing how ridiculous she sounded.

“Oh my god.” I started frantically running around, chucking basketballs into the cart. “Never in my two years of teaching have I seen such unapologetic inappropriate behavior.” I turned around and jabbed a finger in Paige’s direction, my chest heaving with exertment. “You are single handedly worse than my entire class of third graders combined.”

Paige’s mouth dropped open. “Hey! This was Drew’s idea!”

“Paigeeee!” Drew whined, cowering further behind his older sister.

After collecting several more balls, I gave up. I slumped down on the floor. “Unbelievable,” I uttered to myself. “Unbelievable. A 22 year old breaking into school property and blaming it on her 8 year old brother. Unbelievable!”

Paige hesitantly walked nearer to me, concern in her eyes. “Stop,” I threatened once she got within a few feet. “Or I might bite.”

Paige started to laugh, but the look I sent her was so menacing that she immediately shut up. “Hey,” she said softly. “Look, I’m sorry. But what’s the big deal? It’s not like you’re gonna get in trouble for anything.”

“I just wanted to go home,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “It’s 10 PM and today has been the longest day of my life.”

I startled when I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. Looking up, I was surprised to see the face of Drew. “I’m sorry, Miss Nat,” he whispered, regret in his eyes. “But Paige hasn’t been home in forever and she said she would help me with basketball when she came back. We didn’t mean to make you mad.”

I knew it shouldn’t, but my heart melted at his words. This is why you’re weak, I cursed to myself. A pair of puppy dog eyes and you’re all bent up. Shaking my head slowly, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.

“Hey,” Paige interrupted. “The damage is already done. This gym is unlocked and I’m pretty sure everyone else has left. Why don’t we show you what we’ve been working on so you know we haven’t been up to no good?”

I got up from my crumpled position on the floor, tightly gripping my purse. “No,” I said wearily. “I think I’m okay. I just wanna get some sleep at home.”

“Please,” Drew begged. “Can I show you just one of my shots? Paige said it looks a lot better from last time!”

“Just one!” Paige joined in. “One won’t hurt.”

I stared at the two of them, both of them with their hands interlocked as if they were praying, their eyes eager and hopeful. I couldn’t even believe myself, but the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Fine. Just one.”

“Yessss!” The two siblings high fived each other and I fought back a smile, trying to maintain my serious demeanor.

“You aren’t ready for this,” Paige smirked, and you only rolled your eyes in response. “Alright, ready bud?”

“Ready!” Drew called back, bouncing excitedly up and down on the balls of his feet. He started sprinting down the court, and Paige quickly passed him a ball.

He dribbled between his legs, almost losing it but recovering as he made his way to the net. “Drew Bueckers on a breakaway!” Paige narrated, cupping her hands around her mouth as she mimicked a sports commentator. “Three seconds remaining on the shot clock!”

Drew started making his way closer to the net, dribbling behind his back and faking out ghost defenders.

“Three….”

Drew landed on his right foot and pivoted.

“Two….”

Drew spun on his foot and faced the basket.

“One….”

Right before Paige finished counting down, Drew cocked his arm and released, sending the ball flying up and then down, straight into the net for a perfect layup.

“And he scooooooreeees!” Paige howled, running towards her brother and wrapping him up in a hug. This time, I couldn’t help it. I found myself smiling the hardest I’d smiled all night as I watched Paige swing Drew around as his infectious giggles filled the room.

“See?” Paige yelled to me once she set him down. “Wasn’t that epic?”

“So epic.” I beamed at the boy, who was now looking at me shyly. I cleared my throat. “But now we gotta clean up before someone finds this and gets yall in trouble.”

“Ooh, so she’s on our side now!” Paige poked Drew in the ribs teasingly, and he scampered away, laughing as he started picking up balls on the other side of the gym.

Paige turned to you, her expression serious now. “I think it’s your turn.”

“What?” I took a step back. “No, I think I’m actually good.”

“You not up for a little challenge?” Paige picked up a ball and spun it on one of her fingers, and I couldn’t deny that she looked incredibly hot while doing it.

“I can shoot a ball,” I insisted, folding my arms. “I just don’t want to right now.”

“Bull.” Paige extended her arm, offering the ball to you. “I bet you can’t make it from here.”

“Are you serious? We’re like three feet from the net!” I scoffed. I haven’t really shot many basketballs in my life, but how hard could it be? The net was right there.

“Alright, then shoot it.” When I stared at her blankly, still refusing to take the ball, Paige tossed it to me so that I was forced to catch it. “We’re not leaving till you shoot.”

Sighing, I bounced the ball once. Praying that the ball would land somewhere around the net, I launched it. The ball hit the backboard, slowly rolling around the rim of the net before falling to the side. I rolled my eyes. “That basically counts.”

Paige stifled a laugh. “If that basically counted, I’d be the all time leading scorer in the NCAA by now.” I pushed her, unamused. “Hey, now.” Paige picked up another ball. “I’ll teach you.”

I backed up, about to protest, but Paige stepped closer to me, so close that I could feel her breath hitting my skin, and I suddenly lost all ability to move. The blonde swallowed, her eyes darting to my lips for barely a moment before she refocused on the ball. Gently, she placed the ball in my hands, then stepped behind me. I felt hands grab my waist and pull me to her. When my hips suddenly collided with hers, I let out a gasp of surprise.

“Relax,” she murmured into my ear, her warm breath fanning my cheek. “You’re so tense.”

Her hands let go of my hips, and my body ached for the loss of her warmth until her arms wrapped around my own and guided them to the position she wanted. After my arms were in the right form, she positioned my legs and feet with her hands. Every time she touched me, her fingers lingering, I felt light headed, as if my blood sugar was about to crash.

“Okay,” she breathed, stepping back to take a look. “Beautiful.” I had a feeling she wasn’t only talking about my shooting form, and my heart lurched.

“Shoot.”

This time when I let the ball go, it reached the net, sliding through with a satisfying swoosh. I let out a little shout and turned around, giving Paige a bright smile. She chuckled at my excitement. “Good, huh?” she teased.

“You’re not bad,” I responded as nonchalantly as I could. A little flirting never hurt anyone.

She raised an eyebrow. “Not bad, huh? You should come to one of my games. You’ll see how ‘not bad’ I really am.”

“Go to one of your games?” I smiled suggestively, closing the distance between us until we were closer than we’d been before. I licked my lips. “You’re moving a little fast, Bueckers.”

“Fast,” Paige repeated, her voice throaty. “That’s how I roll.” I finally let my eyes fall to her lips, finally noticing how pink and soft they looked.

My hands somehow landed on her chest. Her fingers touched my chin, tilting it upward. Before I knew it, her lips were on mine, and I was on fire. I grazed her cheeks with my fingertips, her skin hot and flushed under my touch. She’d barely brushed her lips against mine though, when a basketball suddenly dropped, pulling me into my senses.

I jumped back, staring in disbelief at the blonde. Her hair was slightly mussed up, her eyes darkened as she watched me. “Oh my god,” I whispered to myself. “Oh my god, you just kissed your student’s sister.” I brought my fingers to my lips.

“That was barely a kiss,” Paige complained. “How about you c’mere and I’ll show you how it’s really done?”

“Fucking hell, no!” You steppped back from Paige, glancing over at Drew to see if he’d saw us. Thankfully, he was still preoccupied putting the basketballs away.

“You guys need to hurry and clean up. I gotta go tell the janitors to lock up the gym. You need to be gone from here before they come.” You turned around, frantically looking around for your purse. Once you spotted it, you grabbed it and started rushing out.

“Hey!” Paige yelled out, her hands to her side. “Where are you going?”

I swallowed hard, not responding as the doors of the gym slammed behind me. Ice traveled through my veins. How could I have gotten mixed up in that? If I’d gotten caught by one of my coworkers kissing one of my student’s family members in a gym that was broken into, I’d be fired on the spot. Getting this job had been hard enough - no one wanted a 24 year old female fresh out of college. I could not be participating in risky behavior like this.

Paige was attractive, no doubt. But she was also cocky, and arrogant, and Drew’s sister. She also lived in Connecticut. This would never work out, I reminded yourself. So when I went home and jumped in the shower, I tried to scrub off any memory of Paige’s tantalizing lips.

#paige bueckers #uconnwbb

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bleucaesura · 1 year ago

Text

STOLITZØ - TWENTY NINE

Blitzø’s mother helped him stand.

“I need to talk to you about Stolas.”

“Stolas?” Blitzø stammered. “What? Why?”

His mother raised an eyebrow at him.

Blitzø blushed.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“I feel your perception of Stolas may leave a lot to be desired…”

Blitzø looked at her confused.

“You may see Stolas as this.”

Blitzø’s mother’s hand flourished and an image appeared of Stolas. It was as if she had plucked it directly from his acid trip nightmare.

Stolas lounged in a throne atop a gold gilded staircase. Shadowed silhouettes of Blitzø stood on either side of Stolas fanning him with great feathered fans. They were chained. Stolas smiled down at Blitzø seductivly, beckoning him to join him. Blitzø knew if he tried to climb those stairs he would just slip and fall over and over trying to reach the top. He also knew he could only reach the top if he crawled.

“You may see some self-important, entitled Royal, oblivious to the ways of the world and your feelings. Someone who enjoys making fun of your lower status and has a fetish for peasant sex and imp shaming.”

Blitzø cringed, blushed and looked away, ashamed.

“Or this.”

She waved her hand again, as if wiping a slate clean, and another image began to form.

Blitzø watched as the Stolas from the night in the human lab took shape. The massive black shape that devoured the light, all for the red glow from his silhouette and eyes (though it could have been the emergency lights, but Blitzø imagined it was Stolas’s demonic presence).

How could all of that fit inside such a twig of an owl?

He could hear Stolas’s voice in his head.

“Who dares threaten my impish little plaything?”

“What’s the matter, demon hunter? Never seen a REAL demon before?”

Blitzø shivered.

His mothers continued. “A terrifying, awe-inspiring force of power. An indestructible demon Prince. Something that could destroy you with a snap of its fingers.”

She snapped her fingers, startling Blitzø. The demonic Stolas disappeared and in its place appeared Stolas as Blitzø had first met him as a child. Bright and smiling and adorable as f*ck.

Blitzø smiled warmly.

“This is what Stolas truly is inside,” She gestured for Blitzø to go over.

Blitzø hesitated, looking at his mom for confirmation, she smiled warmly and shooed him off like a little kid scared to make new friends.

Blitzø walked over and crouched a few feet away. He watched as little Stolas ran around in a circle, making noises like he was an airplane, laughing the whole time. It was so f*cking wholesome.

“Stolas is a kind, hopeful child who was forced to grow up in a life beyond his choosing and was never truly allowed a childhood” Blitzø’s mother said behind him. She placed her hands on his shoulders.

“He may be wise beyond his years in his studies and the ways of the cosmos,” she gestured to the heavens and a swirl of stars and nebulas danced above their heads.

Blitzø watched in awe, his eyes shining with wonder.

“But Stolas was caged, abused and friendless his whole life…. Until he met you.”

Blitzø looked at his mother, shocked. She smiled warmly and nodded. His eyes welled with tears, but she wiped them away and kissed him on the forehead nodding for him to go back to little Stolas.

Blitzø watched fondly as little Stolas played. Then he remembered when he was first brought to the mansion and Stolas’s father had hit him for bowing to Blitzø…

That daddy f*cker…

Blitzø silently seethed wishing he could go back in time and do something very creative to Stolas’s father.

Blitzø watched little Stolas gleefully run in circles, giggling, hopping, spinning, arms wide like the airplane he was supposed to be.

A short while passed before Blitzø noticed something move in the middle of Stolas’s playful circle. He tried to make it out, but it was small and black so it blended in with its surroundings. Blitzø wouldn’t have even noticed it was there if it hadn’t moved.

“Wait…” Blitzø stood cautiously. “Mom… What’s that?” He pointed at the small black figure.

“Why don’t you go take a look?”

Blitzø looked back at his mother, unsure. She nodded in encouragement.

He made his way over to little Stolas, who stopped his airplaning and ran up to meet Blitzø with a giant smile on his face and sparkles in his eyes.

Blitzø’s heart skipped a beat and he smiled warmly down at little Stolas. This apparently made him very happy because he giggled with glee, grabbed Blitzø’s hand, and began pulling him forward. Blitzø blushed at the feeling of Stolas’s tiny hand in his.

Little Stolas cheerfully lead Blitzø over to a small black mass. They both looked down at it. It didn’t move. Stolas looked up at Blitzø with pleading eyes and tugged at his shirt end.

Christ on a stick. Can this bird get any fucking cuter? F*******ck meeeeeee…..

Blitzø crouched down to be eye-level with little Stolas. Stolas beamed, then pulled the hand he was holding toward the mass.

“You want me to touch it?” Blitzø whispered looking at little Stolas.

He nodded excitedly while making adorable hooting noises.

Blitzø blushed.

Yeah ok. Here I go. Just touching some random thing cuz a kid told me to… Please don’t eat my f*cking hand…

Blitzø reached out and lightly touched it. It was soft. Really soft. It shivered under his touch.

He looked at little Stolas.

“What…?”

The thing moved under his hand, startling him. He jerked his hand back and fell on his ass.

It shook like a cat stretching off its sleep. And a very faint red glow began to emit from it.

Blitzø realized what it was.

F*ck…

“Don’t be afraid,” His mother was beside him now. “It can’t harm you here. Not that it ever would”

Blitzø crawled over to it pspsps-ing at it like it was a cat.

The f*ck am I doing? This won’t work… Holy f*cking sh*t! It’s working!

It turned to look at him. And very cautiously began to creep over to his outstretched hand.

“This is Stolas’s demon isn’t it?” He asked his mother.

“It is.”

“Why is it so small?”

“This is how he sees himself and his power.”

The tiny demon cat-like owl sniffed Blitzø’s fingers then began stropping itself all over his hand, seeming very happy with the affection.

Blitzø obligingly pet demon Stolas, relishing in his softness and the thrum of power that emanated off his body.

The tiny demon clambered up onto Blitzø’s lap, curled up, and coo’ed contentedly.

Blitzø bit his lip hard.

F**********ck. I’m going to explode from CUTENESS! F*CK ME!

“Why would he see himself so small?” Blitzø asked.

His mother knelt beside him.

“Stolas has been made to feel small his entire life.”

Blitzø’s heart sank. He looked at demon Stolas sadly.

“His father neglected and belittled him. His wife abuses him. She’s even gone so far as to hire Striker.”

Blitzø felt a rage like he’d never experienced building inside him.

“Striker…” Blitzø growled.

“Blitzo.” His mother placed a hand on his cheek. “I expect you to work through that information with Stolas and NOT act on it. Do. You. Under. Stand. Me?”

The look in her eyes and her words brokered no negotiation. All the wind left Blitzø’s sails and his rage was doused to a seething simmer.

“Yes, momma,” he mumbled.

Blitzø looked down at demon Stolas and pet his deliciously soft feathers. Stolas’s warm glow and snoring coos comforted Blitzø and helped to calm him.

*****

#helluva boss #stolas #blitzø #stolitz #fanfic #vivziepop #vivzieverse #blitzo #vivienne medrano #brandon rogers

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