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slaymybreathaway · 1 year ago

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WASTELAND, BABY! [chapter one]

Chapter List Prologue Masterlist

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: language, mentions of underage drinking and drug use

A/n: hopefully this isn't as shit as I think it is 😭

1st Sep 1994▪︎ King's Cross Station

___________________

Irish Slang Dictionary:

Eejit - idiot, fool

Nicked - stole, robbed

You 'right? - Are you alright?/ Are you ready to go?

To cop - to realise

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

One of the best places in the world to people-watch is King's Cross Statiion on a weekday morning, because you're guaranteed to see something different each time.

For example, if someone were to take a look around the station at 10:45 this morning, they might see things like:

Two old men playing cards at one of the tables of Costa Coffee, a young busker performing a cover of Hotel California by The Eagles as people stop and throw their spare change into the empty guitar case infront of her, and two Irish teenagers, hurrying through the station, shouting at eachother.

"It's your bloody fault if train leaves without us!" Y/n accused, glaring over her shoulder at her brother.

"Eh, How is this my fault?!" Seamus asked. The boy was walking fast but struggling to keep up with his sister, as he had to push the luggage trolley that held both of their trunks.

This was the first year that the twins had to head off to school without their parents, since neither of them could get off work today and it seemed like everything that could've gone wrong, did.

"Seamus, you were the reason we had to go back to the house in the first place. What kind of eejit forgets their wand?" She rolls her eyes, quickening her pace even futher.

"An eejit who's sister nicked half his braincells in the womb," he replied under his breath as the pair finally arrived at the wall separating platform 9 and 10.

The twins stood infront of the wall and gave eachother a knowing look. They have gone forward and back through this passage nearly 20 times, but they still didn't trust that they wouldn't crash into hard bricks. "Rock, Paper, Scissors!" They both said in unison, turning towards eachother.

"Ugh fuck sake!" Seamus cried, after his rock lost to Y/n's paper. The boy took a deep breath, quickly blessed himself in the shape of the cross (a habit he had picked up from his muggle granny) and took a running start at the wall, pushing the luggage trolley infront of him.

Y/n watched as her brother disappeared just as he reached the brick wall and waited a few seconds. Then, she wiped her hands on the sides of her Levi's jeans and ran towards the wall, closing her eyes as she braced herself for the contact.

When she opened them again, she was met with the bustling crowd of platform 9¾. Some were parents, who stood waving to their kids as they boarded the Hogwarts Express. Others were students who ran straight to their friends that they haven't seen in three months, greeting them in a hug. She took in her surroundings for a moment before a voice brought her back to reality.

"You 'right?" Seamus asked, putting his hands on his hips impatiently. 'You were the one rushing, now you're not bloody moving at all' he thought.

"Yeah, let's go," y/n smiled, for the first time that day. As led the way to the train door, excitement took over her. She was finally going to see everyone she had been missing.

Y/n hopped in the train first, taking both of the trunks from her brother as he passed them up, along with the crate that held her cat, Lynott.

"See, I knew we wouldn't miss the train," Seamus smirked as he climbed into the train. He took great enjoyment in annoying his sister, it was what kept him from being bored all summer.

"Alright Zoltar, sure you did," Y/n rolled her eyes in response."You off to find Dean, then?"

"Yup, see you at dinner" Seamus bent down and picked up his trunk, before disappeared down the hallway of the train carriage.

Y/n stacked her cat crate on top of her trunk and carried them as she walked the opposite way down the train. After no sight of her friends what-so-ever for good ten minutes, her arms were starting to get numb. It felt like they were going to fall of if she didn't put her things down quickly.

The girl looked into the compartment on her left and saw a tall boy wearing a patterned sweater, putting his luggage onto the overhead shelves. He was listening to a walkman that was clipped into the waistband of his dark denim jeans. His dark, overgrowd hair covered the side of his face, so she couldn't tell who it was.

Y/n put down her trunk onto the seat opposite the boy. "Hey would you mind if I put left these here while I find my friends? They're way too heavy to carry," she admitted.

It was only when the boy turned around, did she realise who she was talking to.

"Neville!" The girl's eyes lit up at the sight of her friend and she jumped at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug.

As soon as Neville had heard the soft Irish accent of the girl he hadn't stopped thinking about, he turned around. What he wasn't expecting was for her to come flying towards him at top speeds.

"Woah," he stumbled backwards, he placed his hands on Y/n's waist to stabalise himself. His face burned red at the proximity and he akwardly wrapped his arms around her. The pair stood like that for a few seconds until Y/n pulled away.

"How was- you alright? You're a bit red," She asked, her hands still resting on his shoulders.

Neville nodded and cleared his throat before speaking. "Y-yeah, 'M fine,"

Y/n shrugged off his odd behaviour. She turned away to close the compartment door, trying to block out the sound of hundreds of conversations, before sitting down on the seat opposite Neville.

"To be honest, I didn't even cop that it was you for a minute," she admitted, opening Lynott's crate. "You look different... in a good way, like. You're taller than me now and your hair-"

"No, don't remind me about the hair," Neville interrupted, putting both hands ontop of his head to cover is hair. "I hate it,"

Y/n let out a laugh. "Well I don't. It makes you look like a rockstar,"

The boy smiled widely at the compliment, but y/n was too busy watching as her black-haired cat stretched on the chair beside her.

Her mother had bought the pet for her as a present at the start of first year (she didn't trust that Seamus would be able keep an animal alive so she bought him a new broomstick, instead). Y/n had named him Lynott after Phil Lynott, the front man of the Irish rock band 'Thin Lizzy'.

"Aw, I missed him," Neville admitted. He leaned forward in his chair to scratch behind the cat behind his ears. The feline closed his eyes and purred in comfort before hopping off the chair. The animal climbed onto Neville's lap and curled up into a ball. This was odd, seen as Lynott usually refused to leave Y/n's side.

"Looks like he missed you too," she smiled before admitting "We both did,"

Neville shyly smiled. His mind flooding with thoughts.

'She missed me.

She was thinking of me during the summer.

Obviously not as much as I thought of her, but still.

She missed me.'

○

A half an hour after the train departed, the door of Y/n and Neville's compartment was flung open by two tall, redheaded boys.

"Just the two people we were looking for!" Fred exclaimed walking in like the owned the place, before sitting down beside Y/n "Alright Finnegan," he asked, slinging an arm over the girl's shoulder.

The action wasn't unusual. Y/n spends a few weeks visiting Ginny at the Burrow every summer break, and during that time she had become very close friends with all of her brothers.

"Alright, Freddie. Heya Georgie," she greeted both of the boys.

"Alright Lucky," George responded with a cheeky smile. He had been calling her that nickname ever since they had met, in reference to 'the luck of the Irish'. He knew that it annoyed her too, which is why he says it all the time.

"I told you to stop calling me that," y/n rolled her eyes with a smile. "What're you guys doing here, causing trouble I assume?"

"Just sorting party stuff. Are you still good to DJ, y/n?" George asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Of course!" The girl replied, buzzzing with excitement.

The Hogwarts parties were a thing of legend. There were 2 big parties a year: Halloween night and the last night before everyone went home for summer. These parties were held in the Room of Requirement, and only 3rd years and above were invited.

Everyone that attended these parties, partied hard. Firewhiskey, sound system, strobe lights, the lot! Since most of the professors attended these parties when they were students, they turned a blind eye.

Smaller parties were thrown in the winning team's common room after a quiddich match. Students of all ages in that house could attend these parties because they were usually more tame.

For the bigger parties, the resident DJ was Dodgy Dan. Dan was a muggleborn Hufflepuff from Belfast who always worked at a record shop during his summer break, so he was always the first one to get his hands on the new muggle dance lps. The guy was a brilliant DJ, he always seemed to know exactly which tracks to fade into eachother, the problem was that he had a habit of not turning up (pronably due to the fact that he was always stoned). This is where he got the his nickname.

Last June, Dodgy Dan passed his N.E.W.T.S, after his second attempt, so the Weasley twins took it upon theirselves to find a suitable replacement for him over the summer. When they went to the Quiddich World Cup final a few weeks ago and heard the tunes blaring out of the Finnegan family's tent, they knew they had hit the jackpot.

"I have big shoes to fill," y/n let out a nervous chuckle. She had only been attending the parties since last year, so she still wasn't exactly sure how they worked.

Almost as if he sensed her worry, Fred pulled her in close to him. "Listen y/n/n, you're gonna be fine. As long as you turn up, you'll already be doing loads better than Dan,"

George glanced over at Neville, as he hadn't heard him speak the whole time that they were there, and saw him staring at Fred's hand placement around y/n's shoulders. 'Didn't know Longbottom liked Irish girls' he chuckled at the thought and made a mental note to tell Fred later.

"Speaking of Dan," Fred's head perked up, with a smile. "Since he's gone, we need to find a new way to access plants,"

"Which brings us to you," George crossed his arms with a smile. Both of the twins turned their attention towards Neville.

"M-me?" His gaze flitting between Fred and George, nervously. "What do you need me for?"

"Well, you're one of the only students that has a copy of the key to the greenhouses," George pointed out.

It was then that y/n realised what they meant by plants. "Lads, I really don't think that he's the right person to-"

"Well, the only plants I can get for you are the left over mandrakes from when that baskilisk was petrifiying people. Anything else and Professor Sprout will notice that it's missing," Neville explained, confused in their sudden interest in Herbology.

The twins looked at eachother in disappointment and were about to politely decline until he added. "Oh but make sure not to eat the root. It's a hallucinogenic,"

Y/n watched as Fred and George's faces lit up. "Yeah, of course not," Fred started, a grin etching itself onto his face.

"Wouldn't want any hallucinations now, would we?" George continued, patting Neville's shoulder with his hand.

A voice came from the outside of the compartment. "I wait in hope for the day that you two get your own friends and stop stealing mine," Ginny spoke, crossing her arms. "What are you doing here?"

"We, my dear sister, were just leaving," Fred responded, jumping up from where he was sitting and stuck his tongue out at Ginny, before exiting the compartment.

"See ya later," George smirked before following down the hallway.

Y/n hopped up and gave Ginny a hug, despite only seeing her a few weeks ago.

"We were wondering when you'd come to find us," she joked.

"Well, we were looking everywhere for you two," Ginny replied, pointing between herself and Luna, who seemed to have just materialised beside her.

"Heya Lu," y/n smiled, giving the blonde girl a hug.

"Hello y/n/n. Hello Neville," she said, looking over y/n's shoulder at the boy who was still sitting down, black cat still asleep on his lap. "Hello Lynott," Luna added, treating the animal as she would any human.

"I would hug you guys but I don't want to wake this guy up," Neville let out a light chuckle.

"It's alright, Nev. We still love ya," Ginny joked, ruffling the boy's hair before sitting down beside y/n, just as her brother had done a few minutes prior.

Neville, Luna and Ginny each talked about what they did over the summer break, but Y/n's mind was elsewhere.

She watched Neville, how his green eyes creased whenever his rosebud lips parted to reveal a cute, toothy smile. How his right hand carefully ran over the fur on Lynott's head, while the left one pushed stray hairs out of his eyes.

There was something different about him this year, and it wasn't just his height and his hair.

Next Chapter

Taglist [comment to be added]: @divinestarling @bookhoe33 @whotfskai @pursuedbyamemoryy @zippyskitty @gia999 @warrensluvr @h3ll0k1ttyl0v3r

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #ireland #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom #neville longbottom fic #neville longbottom fluff #neville x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts #wizarding world #wizarding schools #harry potter and the goblet of fire #goblet of fire #triwizard tournament #ginny weasley #luna lovegood #fred and goerge weasley #weasley twins

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soulc-hilde · 5 months ago

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Ch. 02 - Skeletal Crusader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Black!OC (Slow-burn)

Synopsis: Zarathos, a child, a daughter of God - but angel, first. The Angel of Justice and Vengence, a powerful entity and her father's strongest soldier. A clean up mission gone wrong, the angel is cut down and captured by the demons of Hell. Forced to work as a bounty hunter, she becomes a frightened member of the damned, now known as The Ryder. Unfortunately, her next hunt accompanies unwanted company.

Warning(s): Biblical figures mentioned and written out of canon, Supernatural creatures, Canon Violence, Lots of Swearing, Blasphemy, and anything else I might miss.

Divider by @anitalenia

Since the extinguish of the Seven Assholes, Zarathos has been suckered into a wild goose chase after her next target. An old witch who goes by the name of Ruby, if that’s her actual name or a new moniker to at least feel like her memories aren’t vanishing. That bitch has been hightailing it since The Ryder’s seen her at the abandoned house, chasing after her into the dark.

To be honest, Zarathos didn’t really know a whole lot about the demon. She was old yet younger than her, never vocal about her take on the civil war, and had a pungent smell. It wasn’t hard to follow her. All you had to do was inhale and if you nearly hurl your heart out, she’s close.

If there’s one thing about The Ryder, she wasn’t a dog. She’s a hunter. And she has another target buried in fucking Ohio.

Elizabethville used to be a town filled with half-dead, workaholics and even laid off alcoholics, but now it was home to a new era. Streets lined with bars, hookers, and addicts; the once abysmal town was lively. It was like a scene straight from Ocean’s Eleven yet the only thing being stolen were people’s souls.

Settled in the back of the rambunctious bar, Zarathos sips her whiskey neat while crowd watching. As her eyes cross over to the entrance, two familiar figures walk in, bags slung at their sides. Clenching the glass in her gasp, the hunter nearly bristles, gritting her teeth.

She watches as the two stand at the bar, amused smiles draping their chiseled features after the bartender walks away. Behind them, a man walks in, his aura lot more depressing than the atmosphere of the bar.

He reaches the pool table where another man plays. “Hi John,” he greets the man. His face didn’t convey an itch of emotion. The man, John, looks up with concern. “Reggie. Everything okay with you?”

“I don’t know,” he answers. “I’m just not feeling myself today.”

The Ryder leans forward, her eyes catching sight of the gun in his hands. She shakes her head, sitting back. It’s not like she’s a good guy nor a bad guy. All she does is follow her contract and serve justice where it’s needed, not her job to teach what decisions are good and vice versa.

Reggie raises the gun without blinking, firing a shot into the other man. The locals inside the bar scream, panic fills the room as everyone scatters for an escape far from the victim, his assailant, and the weapon. Just as Reggie aims the gun underneath his chin, Dean tackles him to the side and wrestles the gun from his hands.

Sam walks over, tentatively, and sprinkles bits of holy water onto the man. Zarathos’ nose scrunches at the smell, but the fumes weren’t enough to hide her amusement. Neither Reggie nor John were demons, this she knew. Instead, they were pawns. Every Elizabethville local was a pawn in her target’s game, and she had a hunch on who it was.

Setting the empty glass on the table, she generously takes her time on leaving the bar. As she stands, the sole essence of calm amongst the crowd of terror, Sam looks her way; eyes steeled with irritation, hell, confusion maybe. As he blinks, eyes bouncing to the bar owner and back to Zarathos, the skeleton rider was gone in the wind with a quick salute.

—

Idiots. Suicidal fucking idiots. They look sexy as hell but are just himbos who need babysat. Zarathos rides through the neighborhood, using hellfire she tracks Dean and the bartender. She pulls into the driveway, ignoring the concerned Sam checking on Bobby. The younger Winchester watches her with wide eyes.

“You…” he whispers, watching as her once dark flesh breaks away under the flames.

Reaching the crashed in living room, she takes a deep inhale, allowing a tornado of scents to overcome her. She twitches, catching Ruby’s, however, she forces herself to focus on Dean.

Following the small bits of debris and mutters, she enters the basement where the bartender and pastor stand across from the green-eyed idiot. The pastor’s hand grasps onto Dean’s throat, eyes glaring into his as the woman whispers her pleas.

Whipping the flaming chain around the pastor’s neck, he freezes in pain with wide eyes. His flesh hardens, cracks decorating his figure as bursts of orange light gleam through. The woman watches in distress before suffering the same fate. Now dropped and gasping for a breath, Dean watches as the flaming figure saves his ass for the second time in a row.

As she stands over him, his green eyes stare into her empty ones. “Who, ugh,” he grunts, “who the hell are you?”

Rather than answering, she tilts her head to the side, the flames mimic her movement. “Your… savior… idiot,” she finally replies.

Before he can retort, he looks over at the sound of rushed footsteps coming their way. Seeing his little brother charge in, a familiar gun raised, the man’s once surprised expression drops.

Pathetically raising a hand, he shouts, “Sam, no!”

Seconds too late, the younger man fires a round into The Ryder’s skeletal chest. The creature stumbles back, her flames flickering as the power of the Colt filters through her system until the bullet is pushed out, clacking against the stone floor. Reverting to her human appearance, her now sweat drenched form glares at the man.

Dean scrambles to his feet at the sight of her. As she takes a step for his brother, he steps in her path, hands gently pushing against her broad chest.

“Wait, please, no.” He pants, “not him.” He then turns to Sam, “just stop. Don’t shoot.” He looks back at her, “I just… we, just, need to talk.”

—

Reaching the town, Dean and Zarathos stand outside of the main plaza against her bike. “You know,” he coughs, “outside of the whole burning skeleton thing, you are a sight for sore eyes. Mind tellin’ me how you do that? What the hell are you?”

“I don’t know how I do it. For as long as I could remember, I always had a human form,” she answers. “The demons call me The Ryder, Hell’s Bloodhound. Outside of that, I don’t know what I am. I’m not a demon that’s for damn sure.”

His face scrunches, “and how’re you so sure? Ya better than them or some?”

She chuckles, “better than them? Kid, you hurt my feelings. They’re nowhere on my level. Besides, demons aren’t just made of thin air. They were humans at first. Humans who took dark paths and succumbed to the darkness.”

“And you were never human before?”

She shakes her head, “not from what I can remember. That’s why when demons wish to stand topside, they find vessels to keep a low cover and add a little flare to some crossroad deals.”

He sits in silence, watching over the crowd of locals that walk by. “Why save me, twice?” His jaw notches, “is it because of my deal? I still have a year left.”

She hums, “nah. I don’t have anything to do with that. I merely saved your ass because you got in the way.”

“Excuse me?” He glances at her.

“You heard me. I’m a hunter, Winchester. My job is to round up sinners on a regular and yet after that stint in Wyoming, I’ve had to herd the cattle back to Hell and you’re in my way.”

He shrugs, “sorry, not sorry. Hey, you think this town will ever change?”

She scoffs, “hell no. if there’s one thing detrimental about humans it’s that you lot are impressionable. Once you’ve scratched the itch in the back of your head, you’re gone. This town? They’re in far too deep, especially since another human is leading them further to the doors of Hell.”

“If you’re done giving me the third degree, I have a job to get to,” she straddles the leather seat of her motorcycle. “Do you think Sam, my brother, is okay?”

She scoffs, “he’s a hunter who was poisoned by Azazel, he’s never okay.”

Dean kisses his teeth, “not that. When I made the deal and he was brought to life, Azazel mentioned that he might’ve changed. Do you think my brother will be okay?” As he stares down into her amber gaze, searching for any lies.

“I mean, he died. Death appears differently for everyone, even treats them differently. What came back with your brother was probably nothing or it might just be a darker, unhinged part of his consciousness. I don’t know, but as long you keep protecting him, he’ll be fine.”

He nods, looking off towards the hotel. “And what do you know of a demon named Ruby?”

Involuntarily, a growl echoes in her chest. “A smelling bitch who prefers word vomiting than walkin’ the walk. She’s one of the demons on ‘Return at Once’ list, damn near nobody in Hell likes her. If you see her, send her ass back down under.”

Zarathos starts her engine, the roar fluttering through his chest. Dean watches her for a bit, “say, if we ever need, ya know, help or anythin’, how do we call you?”

Sliding a pair of sunglasses over her eyes, she smirks, “you don’t. I come whenever I want to, kid. Remember, stay out of the way.” She rides off, following the road out of town.

Watching her ride into the sun, Bobby walks up behind him with squinting eyes. “So what was that all about?”

Dean shrugs, “I guess I, uh, have a guardian angel?” The older man side eyes him, “repeat that for me. A what?”

He repeats, “a guardian angel. A devilish one, at that. She’s a hunter, for Hell. Lassos all the escaped demons and sinners and sends them to the underworld.”

“Hell’s own police force, huh?” Bobby’s eyebrows raise. “Well, I’ll be damned. You think she’ll be another demon problem?”

Dean shakes his head, “not her. She’s not a demon, but that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear, yet.” The man nods, “good to know you’re thinking.”

“I know you’re not,” he fires back. Bobby looks at him, “what? What the hell are you yappin’ about now?”

He nods his head over at the hotel. “Ruby helped you with the Colt. You came here with her, if anyone’s not thinking’, it’s you and Sam.”

“Ruby is helping us,” Bobby argues. “She’s helping us save you. Hell, she helped us with this goddamn Colt, you idjit.”

Dean’s jaw ticks, “and why do you think that is? The bitch is a demon, and her ass needs saving. She’s on The Ryder’s hitlist and boy, is she excited to send her ass back to where she came from.”

“You really believe that thing?” Dean shrugs, “not like Ruby saved our asses without laying out her terms. When it came to Ryder, all she wanted was for us to stay out the way. So, you tell me who to believe and who to kill.”

Taglist: @noodle81937 @mary-jinx

#dean Winchester x oc #dean Winchester x reader #dean Winchester x black!reader #supernatural fanfiction #dean Winchester fanfiction #Jensen ackles x reader #Jensen ackles #dean winchester #jensen ackles x black!reader #sam winchester #bobby singer #supernatural series rewrite #black!reader #black fanfic writers #black writers

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musclelover4826 · 3 years ago

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Bartending part 1

St. Patrick's day Gamma Tau special. My plan got longer than I wanted so its in 2 parts. 2nd one won't be today though. Enjoy

Josh Miller was a fairly average college guy. He was from a well to do family and 3 generations have gone to this school so he had to be the 4th. There was even a hall named after them, Miller Hall, which was used for buisness classes. He was a finance major and very serious about his studies. Too serious if you asked his friends Michael Preston and Thomas Baker.

They were also finamce majors and met Josh in class. The two of them were gay and while Josh considered himself straight he was really more asexual, but he didn't judge them or give them any shit about it. While they too were on scholarships, from well to do families and quite studious in their own right, they also knew when to relax and put the stress aside. Josh didn't. If he wasn't studying he was failing. Which is why he initially refused to drive Mike and Tom to a st Patrick's day party being hosted by one of the frats.

"Come on dude they are accepting pledges there!" Mike practically begged.

"I have a project due the day after" Josh said. "I suppose I could drop you off and come back when your done?" He offered but Tom scoffed at him.

"No way! your coming too! Just uh, don't drink, your the driver" Tom said.

"I said no" Josh groaned.

"Take us and we can help with the project after" Mike offered. This time it was Josh's turn to scoff

"Sure let two drunken idiots help my project, that should go over well"

"You can't study all the time; your project is definitely at the passing point already, doesn't have to be perfect!" Fine. They had a point. Josh reluctantly agreed and a few days later he was pulling up to the Gamma Tau house. Music blasting and signs directing students to the indoor pool. How is it that they convinced the school to let them do this? Easy. All proceeds from the drinks were being donated to a local food bank. The same way Gamma gets away with everything. There were also rumors of the president making deals with the school and one of the Deans being a forner member and letting things slide.

The music was bumping, some guy named Kyle was DJing, Josh only picked that up from the cheering from some guys who were already drunk. It didn't take long for him to lose his friends in the crowd as he looked for a relatively quiet place to sit down. However as he wormed his way through the crowd he bumped into one of the gamma boys dressed in only a green speedo.

"Common bro I cleaned the pool for this party! Enjoy it!" He shouted giving Josh a chest bump that caused him to back flop into the pool! He quickly got his head above the surface gasping and coughing as he climbed out of the pool.

"What the hell I'm soaked!" He shouted as the guy who pushed him chuckled.

"Oh shit sorry bro, guess I bumped too hard!" he said but Josh was fuming. "Tell you what bro, pretty sure we got some spare clothes follow me" he said tossing his arm over Josh's shoulder and leading him into the house. "Names Dean by the way" he said as if Josh really cared. He was above most of these dumb muscle bound frat boys naturally, though in truth most of them had good grades. They just knew how to have a good time but Josh was too caught up in his own stereotypes to realize.

The clothes were hardly something he'd ever wear. A pair of green and black plaid boxers, a green tank top and a pair of overalls with some green socks and a pair of green and black checkered vans.

"Got anything else?" Josh asked.

"You'll look the right color for the party!" Dean grinned. After Josh was dressed in the clothes that seemed a bit loose Dean completed the look by pushing a green hat with the frat letters on it, backwards, onto his head. He turned around suprised but felt a rush to his head and before he could complain further about the outfit he suddenly forgot why he was upset. He just stood there with a dazed look. He didn't react much as Dean leads him back to the party. The music thumping room spinning a bit, the music and people chatting. The sounds kind of just blended together resulting in Dean giving him a funny look.

"Wha?" Josh asked and Dean chuckled.

"I said, know anything about mixed drinks?" Dean repeated a question he apparently already asked.

"Uh no not really" was that true? It felt right but he was really confused right now.

"Really? Thought drinking was in your genes bro!" Dean said laughing. Josh wanted to correct him but he felt too light headed to refute it, not noticing his dark brown hair starting to lighten. Or his skin gaining a sudden paler. As he was lead to the poolside bar he realized yes. He did know about the drinks. There was vodka, wines, beer, rum, soon even just looking at the brand names he knew what type of liquor it was. Soon he was behind the bar...how had that happened? Before he could question it guys were placing orders and how is it that off the top of his head, as if on auto pilot, he know how to mix the perfect Lomg Island Iced Tea, or Screwdriver? As he mixed the drinks his arms swelled with neew muscle. His chest began to inflate into 2 lean but square pecs that filled in his new tanktop nicely. His stomach always had a 6 back rite? Of course. He had known these drinks because it was in his blood rite? His face shifting to be more angular and itching as redish hair grew to fill in some stubble as freckles dotted across his face. He knew drinks, he bartended all the time for his bros! Hell his family practically had him doing it as a kid! Though unlike the stereotypes of his heritage he actually didn't like to drink a lot. Though he couldn't say the same for his 2 brothers! His memories of studying intensly began to fade. Replaced with being intelligent still, but knowing when to turn it off and have fun. His dick englarged as his balls swelled up. They burned breifly as the sperm containing his old genes died off replaced by potent ginger sperm. He was definitely still straight and definitely willing to let any girl catch his leprechaun...if she was willing to show him her pot o gold! Haha. His legs began to swell with muscle and fill his overalls snuggly as his feet grew a bit bigger to fill his new shoes. In the haze of noise and hormones he remembered. He wasn't some boring nerd named Josh...no he was Jameson O'Hennessy! A Gamma Bro, their bartender, and no party could be complete without his cocktails! He wondered where his brothers had gone but couldn't go look for them for now as he kept getting requests. Dean and Prez Dorian looked on at their new bartender with broad grins.

1 down 2 to go.

#gamma tau #dumber #nerd to jock #my stories #jock tf #frat boys #frat boy #frat bro #ginger #st patricks day

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cupiditis · 2 years ago

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unsightly sights

warning . injury, violence

feat . jake ji and wolf keum

𔘓 . jake ji

jake leaned forward on the wooden chair he comfortably sat on, arms moving around as he animatedly told his friends about the newest volume of the manga he was reading during their break. mid sentence he was interrupted by a student, someone he recognized to be in the union rushing into the classroom, coming straight to him. " jake, someone's beating u — " immediately he stands, already knowing he was talking about you, jaw set as the union underdog lead him to the fight taking place.

he's quick to push past the people crowded nearby before he's landing a punch on the person knocking them back. he's landing another straight to their face just as they get up. dean is quick to push jake towards you before taking his place to beat them up. " what even happened " you could see jakes' hands tremble as he spoke from your position on the tiled floors.

" i'll explain later, " your eyes squeeze shut as the adrenaline rush winds down and the pain kicks in, " can i get some ice for now ? " you tell him sheepishly as you wince from the pain in your leg, already feeling the bruise forming. " yeah, alright " he moves your arm around his shoulders, helping you walk to the nurse as he continued his story with timothy. the tense situation falling back into a light hearted conversation as he kept speaking, even then you could feel the slight tremble of his hands.

𔘓 . wolf keum

the dull pain of the concrete against his skull grounded as he mindlessly watched the smoke from his lungs dissipate into the air, the cigarette between his fingers moving towards his lips when he heard a thud and wincing around the corner. a quiet ' let me go ' hissed through gritted teeth.

with furrowed brows he rounds the corner to see your figure, down on your knees with your hair bunched up in the hand of someone he didn't care to recognize. walking closer he took the mans' jaw in a vice grip, turning their head to meet his eyes. putting his cigarette out on their uniform collar, barely missing their skin, he then takes his glasses and hands them to you with the other hand.

a punch is landed to their jaw so quickly that you can barely wince and look away when they hit the floor and another punch is landed. even with your eyes closed shut and your head turned the sound of the punches landing against skin make your face scrunch up. when you look back once the sounds stop the man is running off looking like he was assaulted, with snot, spit and blood covering his bruised face.

" get up " wolf turns to you, lifting you up off the concrete grounds with one hand before briskly walking away, you follow suite knowing he'd expect you to explain and give his glasses back.

𔘓 . taglist

@alky-nbs . @avid-idiot

#weak hero #webtoon #webcomic #wolf keum #jake ji #x reader #weak hero x reader #wolf keum x reader #jake ji x reader #☆ . written by her

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hops-hunny · 3 years ago

Text

Those Bloody Girls

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Beauxbaton!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: “I couldn't sleep soooo

Neville absolutely worshiping his beauxbaton gf but his friends think he's full of shit when he tries to tell them about how fucking gorgeous and fantastic she is. And everytime he tries to introduce her to his friends something goes wrong and his friends end up looking at him like he's crazy cuz he's introducing absolutely nothing but air. And separately she has been accidentally meeting all his friends one on one, helping Ron pick up his books in the hall, cleaning off some soot from Seamus face because he looked rather silly, encouraging harry before one of his quidditch matches/Triwizard trials etc and all the while they have no idea that's Nevilles wonderful gf and they all develop a crush on her never telling each other anything so when they finally meet her it's hilarious 😂

-🦡”

Summary: The request says it all

Warnings: None!

A/N: This was such a fun idea. I loved writing this all hail 🦡 anon.

If there was anything Beauxbaton girl's were known for, it was their beautiful looks. They were graceful and diligent, each one graced with the face of an angel, and Neville just so happened to have the prettiest one. They had met during the summer by a complete chain of accidents resulting in one of the greatest blessings he could've ever asked for. Neville was lucky and he knew it, never letting anyone forget.

"Oh bullshit! You're saying she's got a cute face, nice waist, and she can bake? Ha! I'll believe it when I see it, Nev." Ron snorted, Seamus nodding along with him.

"Yeah you expect us to just believe a girl from Beauxbaton of all places chose you? No offense Nev but Beauxbaton girl's have standards and none of us Hogwarts boys meet em." Seamus said, shrugging as he continued to throw rolled up bits of paper in Dean's hair (who still hadn't noticed.). Neville rolled his eyes in irritation, looking to Harry and Dean as well but for once, they were on the same page as the other two.

"Sorry Nev. It's just, a Beauxbaton girl? And from the way you describe it, the most beautiful one in her year if not school?" Harry said, giving him a sympathetic look.

"Yeah mate. You've gotta understand where we're coming from." Dean chimed, turning his attention back to the assignment in his lap. Neville groaned, glaring at his friends.

"You guys act like I haven't tried to introduce you to her! Every time I try to you guys go and get yourselves into something stupid or I end up busy. Let's all agree that Friday you will meet her, no matter what." the boys all nodded in agreement, not really thinking much of it. After all, there was no girlfriend but if it'd ease his mind, they'd show up.

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

Ron swore angrily, rolling his eyes in frustration. It was just his luck that he'd drop all his quills and the massive scroll of paper rolling away with his bits of sanity. Normally he'd just collect them and go on with it, not really worrying about time but for once in his god damn life he had made an effort to study for the exam he had next hour and if he was late? All that bloody time would be wasted! However, his worries began to fade as a small manicured (s/c) hand began to gather his quills. His eyes widened as he looked at the girl, mouth gaping.

She had (h/l) (h/c) hair that was an even more vibrant (h/c) in the afternoon sun. Beautiful plush (s/c) thighs (that he'd like to see more from under that little skirt), and not to mention the most beautiful set of (e/c) eyes he had ever seen. But when she smiled? Oh when she smiled, he was hooked. The little emblem on her shirt confirmed his suspicion. Beauxbaton. However what he did miss was the words that were currently leaving her mouth.

"I'm sorry...what?" he asked, causing a giggle to erupt from the girl's mouth. She smiled, handing him the quills that he had dropped.

"I said it's a shame that this happened to you! I hope you aren't too late. I have a free period so I'll carry these to your class for you!" she offered, silence falling over them as he continued to stare at her in awe. His face flushed as she cleared her throat, looking at him expectantly.

"O-oh! Right, yes, thank you. That'd be helpful." He offered her a small smile as he began to walk. The entire time of the walk there, she helped him by quizzing him on the subject and by the time he got there, he felt like he remembered everything!

Everything but asking for her name. He felt like an idiot but for once, it wasn't because of school.

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

Seamus sat at the cauldron, focusing on the ingredients list. His partner had decided from every other time in potions, that he wasn't allowed to touch anything. They had a perfect grade and didn't want it to be ruined from the likes of him. However, he was growing restless. It couldn't be too hard...right? Wrong, so wrong.

He dropped in a few spider legs, stirring counterclockwise like the book had instructed. However, as it turned an angry red and bubbles began to form, he knew that he had screwed up big time. He tried backing away but it was too late, the potion had erupted in a large explosion, black soot coating his face and hair. Everyone in the class turned to look at him, some laughing while some were utterly annoyed. This was such a common thing that it was a miracle when he didn’t blow something up. He flashed Snape a bright smile, ignoring the way the vein on the man’s forehead twitched and juttered in annoyance.

“Class dismissed.” he seethed out. Before he could issue a punishment, Seamus ran off down the hallway ignoring the harsh yells of the potion’s master. He continued to run and run until he accidentally bumped into a group of girls sending him straight to the floor. His face turned rouge with embarrassment as they laughed at his scuffed appearance but a divine voice broke through the laughter.

“Leave him alone guys! You all go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later.” she said, pushing her friends to go ahead in the other direction. Seamus looked up, admiring how beautiful they were but especially the (h/c) haired one in the middle of them all. She was a walking sculpture, a painting straight from the louvre. She was..

“Hot.” he blattered out, not even realizing his words. His eyes widened as he stood up clearing his throat. Luckily for him she hadn’t heard him, causing him to look up to the ceiling and give a quick thank to Merlin himself. She looked back at him, frowning slightly as she observed the soot on his freckled face. Her eyes lit up as she reached into the small purse on her shoulder, pulling out a silk fabric.

“Can’t have you going around looking all silly! Come here.” she said, motioning for him to lean down. He did so instantaneously, cheeks turning even more red as she licked the small fabric before beginning to wipe at the mess on his face. It was an action his mother had done multiple times but for some reason, he found this to be far more endearing. Her face was close to his, giving him a good look at the light layer of gloss on her plump lips. He couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had ever kissed them before, if she had ever had them wrapped around a-

“All done! I can’t do much for your hair but it’s not that noticeable. I have to get going though, bye!” She said flashing him a smile before walking away. When she was out of sight, he couldn’t help but wonder if that had even happened. Did a beautiful girl really just hold his face and clean it...out of the kindness of her heart? Was it truly possible for someone to look so perfect and act so kind? He didn’t know but he surely did wanna find out. He smirked to himself, standing up straight as he walked down the hall.

“She wants me.”

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

Harry splashed some water on his face, running a shaky hand through his hair. No matter how many times he’d hop on that broom, zooming around in the sky with the intent to win, he always got painstakingly nervous before a match. He observed his appearance, grimacing at the sickly green undertone to his face. Was he going to puke again? Didn’t matter, he didn’t have time. Sighing he walked out the bathroom, sneaking to observe how many people were in the crowd. His eyes began to wander to the Beauxbaton girls, admiring how pretty they were in the stands. However, what he wasn’t prepared for was for a pretty face to walk over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Harry, right?” she asked, a gentle smile on her stunning face. His breath hitched as he felt himself be taken by a new set of nerves.

“R-right. Yeah that’s me. I’m, I’m Harry.” he internally kicked himself. How embarrassing. One of the most lovely girls he had ever seen and here he was, making himself look like a fool. His nerves were soothed some when he heard her laugh, a sound like beautiful Christmas bells.

“I think we already established that.” she said, grinning even more. She patted his shoulder as she looked at him, eyes full of sincerity. “No need to be nervous. I’ve heard you’re one of the best players on the field! Do your best out there! I’m rooting for ya.” she began walking off, flipping her Gryffindor scarf around her shoulder. Whether she meant rooting for him personally or the team didn’t matter. A determined look took his face as he began to make his way to his team. He was going to win this, for her.

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

Friday came around quicker than any of them had expected, not like it mattered to them. They all sat around looking at each other, a shared thought running through most of their heads. As if Neville could hear it, he groaned standing up angrily.

“Guys! I swear she’s real! She’s just running a bit late, she’s horrible with time management. Plus, she’s well known amongst her peers so she’s always getting asked to help with things.” he grumbled, staring at them with disdain.

“Nev, it’s okay you don’t have to keep lying. We’ll get you a girlfriend since clearly you’re going mad thinking that you have one.” Seamus said, prompting the boy to throw his textbook at the boy which hit his head with a loud thud. They all looked up as peach colored owl flew in, dropping a note into Neville’s hand. The boys set up a bit straighter, unfamiliar with the owl. The boy’s eyes scanned the page, taking in the words before nodding.

“Alright, it seems she wants us to come to her. She’s by the fountain in the courtyard! That’s cute, she forgot she was supposed to come to me.” he chuckled fondly at the thought of his forgetful girlfriend before turning to walk. His friends still sat on the couch, stunned that this girl might actually be real. “Well don’t just sit there, let’s go!”

All of them scrambled up and began to follow their lanky friend, mumbling amongst themselves.

“No way. Do you think she’s real?”

“Well I’ve never seen that owl!”

“This is insane. Okay if she’s real, she definitely can’t be as hot as he said she is.”

“Yeah probably one of the more...unsightly Beauxbaton girls.”

Wrong. Terribly wrong. Th-that was her? It couldn’t be. However, as the girl’s big doe eyes lit up it was slowly becoming a big possibility. And as she ran to him, jumping into his arms, that possibility became reality right in front of their eyes. Neville leaned in kissing the girl, holding her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as she pulled away. Her eyes turned to the group of guys, surprise taking over her face. Neville looked back and forth between her expression and the one of his friends.

“You guys alright?” he asked confusedly, setting the girl back on the ground before pulling her into his side. She eyed them carefully before tilting her head.

“Have we met before?”

“NO!” they all shouted in unison. They all turned to each other in confusion, stepping away from the happy couple.

“You met her too?!” Harry whisper shouted, eyeing the other two. Ron nodded frantically, unable to respond verbally due to the shock and queasiness overtaking him. The beautiful girl from Wednesday was Neville’s girl? Life was not being fair by putting that bird in his hands.

“Like hell I did! She was practically all over me.” Seamus exclaimed, all of them turning to look at the girl who had a lovesick look on her face as Neville rambled on about something.

“Okay now that one I doubt. I can’t fucking believe this. I’ve been thinking about her all week.” Ron groaned out, crossing his arms angrily. Harry nodded in agreement, grabbing the flask that Seamus had pulled out taking a big swig of it.

“You’re telling me. I did a lot more than think about her if you know what I mean.” Seamus mumbled, eyeing the girl’s rear.

“Sadly I do and I wish I didn’t.” Harry grimaced as the gruesome image popped up in his head. “Come on, we better head back over before they think something is up.”

“My bunny says she met you all earlier in the week! How come you didn’t tell me?” he questioned, watching as the boys practically drooled over her.

“I dunno sorta...slipped my mind.” Harry trailed off, eyes dragging along her exposed midriff.

“Nah I’ll be honest. Bird was too hot and didn’t get her name. ‘S a shame really.” Seamus shrugged, earning a kick to the knee from Harry. “What?! I know you thought it too. Congrats Longbottom, you’ve got a grade A girl there.”

Neville looked down at the smaller girl, smiling some as she looked away shyly at the kind words she was receiving.

“Yeah, I do.”

#neville longbottom x reader #neville x you #neville longbottom x you #neville x reader #neville x y/n #neville longbottom x y/n #Neville Longbottom #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #🦡anon

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deanstead · 4 years ago

Text

With Brothers Like These

Pairing: Dean Winchester x WinchesterSister!Reader x Sam Winchester

Request by anon: I was wondering if you could do another one where she is assaulted at a bar and the brothers have to rescue her. Lots of fluff, hurt/comfort, and angst!

Word Count: 1,683

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, angst, fluff, mentions of injury/hurt

A/N: Please take note of the warnings before you continue to read! Back with Winchester Sister! I know this is not a new trope but I still hope you guys like it! Please hit me up and let me know what you guys think! Hope there’s no mistakes haha. Thanks for the request! Winchester requests are open, as are taglists!

---

A successful hunt only ended one way – with the three of you at the nearest local bar.

Dean wasn’t even paying attention anymore, making eyes at a woman that was standing at the bar. You shook your head but smiled. “You’re relieved from your older brother duties.”

“Best sister ever.” Dean announced, grinning, patting your head affectionately before getting up from the table. “Go crazy, kids.”

“I’m your only sister!” You shot back but Dean was already halfway to the bar.

Sam shook his head, smiling, exchanging a look with you.

“Sam, you should hit the floor too.” You said absentmindedly, looking at your drink.

Sam rolled his eyes, “Don’t I get a ‘best brother ever’ for sitting here with you?”

You laughed, pulling the drink closer to you and taking a gulp.

“I’m going to get some air. I’ll be back in a bit.” You told Sam. The crowd in the bar was growing and you were starting to get a little claustrophobic from the musky smell that was filling the air.

“You okay?” Sam asked, looking up from the papers in front of him, probably already looking for the next case.

You nodded, smiling, dragging back your chair and pushing open the door of the bar.

You took a deep breath as the cool air hit your face. That was much better. You wandered slightly further into the parking lot, looking up at the sky. It was a nice clear night, it was quiet and the stars twinkling in the sky reminded you of a night many years ago, lying in the grass with your brothers.

You were so engrossed in looking at the sky, you didn’t hear the rustle of movement behind you until you felt yourself grabbed by rough hands, a man’s arm hooked around your neck, dragging you a few feet backwards into an alley that was right next to the parking lot of the bar.

What the hell?

You felt your back hit the wall and grunted at the impact, snapping your head up to look at what had grabbed you.

Except it wasn’t what, it was who.

The man towering over you looked about Dean’s age but he leered at you and you remembered where you had seen him. He’d already been staring at you at the bar.

“What the hell is this?” You snarled, trying to squirm out of his grasp but he barely budged. But you were a damn Winchester. You pulled your knee upwards in a quick motion, hitting him square in the groin as you screamed, “Dean! Sam!”

He groaned, but pulled his arm backwards and smacked you across your face, almost like a knee-jerk reaction, before he bent over again.

You hit the floor with a thud, winded from the unexpected strike, wincing as you felt your elbow scrape along the tarmac ground.

“Oh, a feisty one.” A voice that didn’t come from the guy bent over in front of you.

You felt your stomach drop. You were already at a disadvantage with this guy, and if he had friends…

Instinctively, you scrambled up, trying to push yourself towards the lit parking lot. In dismay, you felt hands grab your ankles and pull you backwards. Losing your balance, you fell forward with a thud, feeling your chin smack the tarmac.

“Dean! Sam!” You yelled again, not even sure if it was helpful. You were a distance away from the door of the bar and even if you had been out front, all your brothers would hear inside would probably be the pounding of the loud music.

The hands pulled you further in, their strong hands turning you back around to the front.

“It’s only fun when they’re feisty.” One of the men said, grabbing both your arms and pinning them above you as one of the new arrivals climbed on top of you.

Your breathing got shallower as you realised the situation you were in but before you could scream again, he crashed his lips against yours and you felt his hands move down your body. He pulled his lips away then, smirking down at you.

Your body felt like it had frozen on its own. You had no idea what to do, you’d been trained to hunt monsters, but you found herself frozen. Your mind was blank and you could feel your will shutting down.

Until you heard a gunshot rip through the air.

“Y/N!”

Sammy.

“Get your filthy hands off her!” Dean roared, pouncing for the guy that was atop you. The rest of them had scattered the moment they had heard the gunshot.

You felt hands grab you and you squirmed, trying to fight it. No, you couldn’t... you wouldn’t let yourself be taken again.

“No!” You screamed this time, your voice finally finding its way past your lips.

��Y/N! It’s me! It’s Sam!”

You spun your head around and it was. It was Sam, looking back at you with those familiar hazel eyes. “Sammy…”

“I got you.” Sam said, pulling you closer to him, his arms wrapping around you.

You closed your eyes, feeling the safety of your brother’s embrace. “Y/N, wait for me here.” Sam whispered after a while. You looked up in alarm.

Sam shook his head, “It’s okay, I’m just going to get Dean, okay?”

You nodded as Sam shot himself up. “Dean!” He ran to your oldest brother. “Okay, Dean, enough. Let’s get out of here.”

Even from where you were, you could hear Dean’s low growl. “I’m going to kill them!” Dean roared.

“Dean!” Sam yelled again.

Dean hesitated for a moment, the internal struggle between wanting to kill them or run back to you evident on his face. With another look from Sam, Dean chose the latter, spinning around and heading straight for you.

Your head snapped up at the sound of footsteps but you felt the relief flood your system when you saw who it was.

“Hey sweetheart, come here.” Dean pulled you to your feet smashing you against his side. You didn’t miss the way his eyes scanned your injuries but he didn’t say anything.

Sam threw open the front door of the Impala. On any other day, you’d have made a joke about him sitting in the back with his long legs but you could barely get through the fog in your brain. Your hands were shaking so you stuffed them into your pockets, biting the inside of your cheek.

---

Dean pulled up at the motel, glancing sideways at you.

You hadn’t said a word the whole way back, maintaining the silence even as Sam opened the door to the motel room you shared.

“I just need to wash up.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady before you went straight for the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You flipped open the tap at the sink, watching water pour out of the faucet before you sank to the floor and let it go, the tears now pouring out of your eyes as well.

You didn’t know how long you had been in there before there were a few raps on the door. “Y/N, we’re coming in, okay?”

You didn’t respond but they opened the door anyway.

“Sweetheart, come here.” Dean whispered, getting to his knees in front of you and enveloping you into his arms.

That only made it harder for you to hold it in and a sob escaped your lips. Sam squatted next to you, putting his arms around you as well.

“I’m sorry…” You sobbed, “I froze, I shouldn’t have… you taught me….”

“No, no you look at me.” Dean said, pulling away slightly, his hands still on your shoulders. “None of this is on you, do you hear me?”

Your eyes moved from Dean to Sam.

“Come on.” Sam said, wiping away the tears that were rolling down your face.

Your brothers gently helped you up and you followed them out of the bathroom, sitting down on the bed.

“Let me see.” Dean muttered, bending down to look at the scrape on your chin. “I should have killed them.” He growled.

“Dean.” Sam warned before turning back to you. “I’m just going to…”

“Sam, I know. I’ve had worse.” You said, clenching your teeth slightly as Sam cleaned the scraped on your elbows.

You were quiet for a while. “I shouldn’t have frozen.”

Sam looked up. “Y/N.”

“How’d you know?” You asked.

Sam shrugged, “Just a feeling.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “A feeling?”

Dean and Sam just gave small smiles as Dean pushed your hair back slightly so he could clean the scrapes on your face.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean asked, his green eyes watching you. “I should have stayed with you.”

Sam shook his head. “I shouldn’t have let you go outside alone.”

“Look, we can do this all day because I shouldn’t have frozen, I should never have let them get that close to me.” You said, looking at your brothers. Your brothers who would literally brave hell for you.

On any other day, you’d roll your eyes and ask them to skip the chick flick moment but you still felt a little vulnerable and stupid, mostly.

Sam looked up as he finished cleaning the scrapes on your arms at the same time as Dean’s eyes flicked to yours. “Y/N?”

You smiled back at them, Dean’s bright green eyes looking you over to Sam’s hazel ones looking at you with concern.

“I just feel like an idiot, mostly.” You confessed.

Dean sighed as Sam moved in closer. “Hey, you’re our little sister. You’re allowed to show us a little vulnerability.” Sam said.

“From time to time.” Dean teased.

You smiled weakly and Dean put a reassuring arm around your shoulders. “Seriously, it’s okay to lean on us. It’s not weak.”

“No matter what Dad might have told you.” Sam added.

“Besides, we’re your older brothers, we’re supposed to protect you.” Dean spoke again, his jaw clenching a little.

You smiled. “You know what?” You paused as Sam and Dean studied you. “You are the best brothers ever.”

---

If you would like to be added to a taglist, you may request here or send me an ask!

#Winchester!Sister #winchester sister #winchester!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean x reader #dean x sister!reader #sam x reader #sam x sister!reader #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #resanoona request #winchester sister oneshot #spn x reader #supernatural x reader

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pastorpresent · 4 years ago

Text

It had been three and a half weeks since they had sex. Hell, it had been even longer since Dean tried to initiate a damn thing.

And Sam would be lying if he said it didn't sting a little. But... he understood, he supposed.

He wishes he could blame it on things being hectic but honestly? Their lives had never been anything else, and even if they didn't have time to fuck, Dean would make a point to kiss him frequently or hop in the shower alongside him.

Now, it wasn't like that. And the more reasonable explanation was that Dean was simply losing interest in him.

It was understandable. They'd been in this weird state of together since they were teenagers, of course Dean would get bored eventually.

Not to mention that Sam was in his thirties now, and as he stared in the mirror and grimaced at his reflection, he looked it.

He found a fucking grey hair type other day, and he wasn't that lean little baby that Dean adored. He still had his abs but he looked too bulky, and maybe he should start shaving his chest and legs again - Dean always tended to prefer him with smooth skin. He was covered in permanent marks and scars that looked ugly and messy on his body.

He didn't feel pretty whatsoever. Not like how he used to when he was 22, showing off his legs in a short skirt, wearing nothing beneath oversized hoodies to show off collarbone and thighs. Wearing lingerie and panties.

He had felt so damn sexy, even more so when Dean would throw him on the bed and moan his name, telling him how hot and gorgeous he was.

He couldn't quite remember the last time Dean complimented him like that, he thought with frown as he continued to scrutinise his reflection in the mirror, standing in just his boxer shorts.

"Sammy? What you doing?" He startled at Dean's voice, cheeks burning crimson as he grabbed his shirt and pulled it back on.

"Nothing, what's up?" He asked, hoping desperately Dean would accept the subject change, but of course he wasn't that easy to distract.

"Hey, c'mon. Somethings wrong, I can tell." Dean said, using that gentle tone he reserved exclusively for him. It made Sam smile a little.

"I'm... I'm just being stupid, seriously. I'll be fine." He tried, but Dean came closer and pressed a kiss to his lips softly and Sam couldn't quite stop the couple of tears that rolled down his cheek.

Dean quickly went from concerned to downright alarmed, brushing the tears away with his sleeve, and Sam just wanted to cry harder because he missed Dean's touch so badly and he hadn't even fully realised till now.

"Sammy... you're scaring me. You can tell me anything, you know that."

Sam swallowed, glanced off to the side so he was staring at the door rather than his brother.

"I'm... I'm just not feeling the best about myself, I guess. I'll get over it, seriously." He really wasn't sure if he would, especially if things continued how they were, but he wasn't really in the mood to be told how much of a girl he was being.

"What do you mean?" Dean pushed, and his fingers wrapped loosely around Sam's wrist to stop him leaving.

"I mean that I'm... I'm not exactly in the peak of my youth anymore, Dean! I look different, I feel different, and not for the better!" Sam huffed, and for a minute Dean just stared at him.

Then he started laughing.

And Sam had heard enough, his eyes burning as more tears fell, and he yanked himself from Dean's grasp so he could head for the door.

"Sam- wait, wait." Dean called out, grabbing him just before he got to the door, and Sam immediatly tried to shrug off the grip.

"Fuck you! I mean, was avoiding touching me like the plague not enough?! Do you really need to laugh in my face too?!"

All humour was immediatly wiped from his brothers face, and he was left standing there with a dumbfounded expression.

"What? I started laughing because of how ridiculous the idea of you being insecure is. You're literally the definition of perfection, like, stupidly so." Dean explained, and Sam frowned.

"If that's what you think, what's with the avoiding me? You haven't... we haven't done anything in weeks, and even before that I always had to start things. I know I'm not that baby boy anymore. I'm older, and I get that seeing me like that must be pretty damn difficult now, but-"

Before he could finish, Dean was kissing him, arms wrapped tight around his waist.

When they finally parted, Sam could only blink owlishly over at his lover.

"I didn't ever mean to make you think like that, Sammy. I've just had a lot on my mind - with mom, Jack... I suppose I ended up neglecting you a little, huh?" Sam felt his cheeks burning as Dean ran fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry, I suppose I should of just tried talking to you instead of letting myself spin my own narrative-" he began, feeling like an absolute idiot.

"Shhh, none of that. It's all on me, baby. Should've been looking after you better... let me make it up to you?" The way Dean was talking was going straight to Sam's dick, reminding him of when they were teenagers.

Dean led him to the bed, pushing him onto it and immediatly crowding his body as he kissed over his neck.

"Daddy's been neglecting you, hasn't he baby boy? You're always so good to me..." he murmured, breath hot against Sam's skin.

"Y-you don't gotta do that De... I know I'm not-"

"Stop it, sammy. I'm not doing anything cause I gotta. I'm doing it because I want to. Because you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life, and you always will be. I don't care how old you get, you'll always be my baby boy, and it's my job to look after you and show you how sexy I think you are." Dean tugged at the hem of his shirt, and Sam arched his body to allow Dean to manoeuvre it off.

"Even when I'm 60 and all wrinkly and gross?" Sam joked, hoping that Dean didn't hear that slight tinge of insecurity in the question.

"Of course. Old wrinkly sex with you sounds awesome." Dean said with a grin and a wink, and Sam huffed and rolled his eyes even if he was still wearing a small smile.

"Thank you Dean. Seriously." He breathed after a few seconds, and Dean grin turned into a much softer smile.

"Anytime, baby boy."

#sam winchester #spn #dean winchester #supernatural #sam and dean #samxdean #sam/dean #wincest #wincest fic #wincest drabble #mywriting #insecure!sam

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mymoonagedaydream · 4 years ago

Text

Home (Part 1)

Summary: Two years ago, you’d left behind your hometown and the love of your life to pursue your dream career, but returning for Christmas really made you start to second-guess that decision.

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: A Christmassy one for ya’ll! This story is inspired by the requests above from @shawnie--jo, thank you for those and for the inspo! I couldn’t fit everything into a oneshot, so this may end up being three or four parts.

---

You stuffed your bag into the overhead locker and collapsed into your seat, completely exhausted.

Some chaos was to be expected when travelling so close to Christmas, but still, you really could've done without the three hour check-in queues and the chorus of screaming babies.

Leaning back in your chair and pulling on your headphones, you squeezed your eyes shut and just tried to think about all the things that would make this journey worth it, all the things you’d missed about Christmas with your parents.

The excitement on their faces as they greet you at the airport, your mother’s incredible home-cooking, your father’s insistence on playing charades three or more times a day. It was your first time visiting home since moving away two years ago, and you wanted the whole cosy, corny nine yards.

There was just one teensy little caveat to your relaxing family holiday- two years away from home meant two years since you'd seen Bucky.

You were childhood sweethearts, head over heels in love with each other for as long as you could remember and best friends for even longer. When you were offered a job across the country, you wanted so much for him to move with you, but he’d already promised his father that he’d take over the family car-repair business.

It was the most difficult decision of your life, but eventually the two of you agreed there was no choice but to separate.

Being away from him tore you apart for the first few months, but now you'd finally gotten back on your feet, and you were ready to come face to face with your past again.

Or so you thought.

---

Your parents pulled you into a tight bear-hug as soon as you walked through arrivals, taking your bags, talking your ear off and quickly ushering you to the car.

Amongst all the excited babbling, you just about managed to discern that they’d planned a welcome home party for you that night with half the neighbourhood, an announcement which triggered a mix of dread and excitement to begin churning in your stomach.

You were looking forward to seeing your oldest friend again, you just hoped to god that things wouldn’t be weird or awkward between the two of you.

After a short drive, the car pulled up outside your childhood home. Just seeing it from the outside made you feel all warm and cosy but, as soon as you glanced through the door, those feelings were amplified off the charts.

The place looked incredible. Your mother had obviously put so much effort into making it look cosy and festive, you even felt yourself tearing up a little when you stepped inside. It was so elaborate, you had half a mind to interrogate her about a possible Christmas with the Kranks scenario going down prior to your arrival, but you decided it was probably best to just keep your mouth shut.

After you’d looked around properly and unpacked, it was only a matter of hours before the first guests started arriving.

You downed two beers to loosen yourself up a little. Each time the bell went, your eyes snapped towards the door, the sound making your heart leap out of your chest. It felt like you were waiting to find out whether that hard mass in the bottom of your stocking was a big-ass diamond or a lump of coal.

When Bucky finally appeared in the doorway, your jaw almost hit the shag carpet. The last two years had been unreasonably good to him, he looked like James Dean but somehow even more buff.

The boy you'd left behind had become a man in your absence and sweet Jesus it was really making you feel some kind of way.

His eyes were frantically scanning the room but he hadn't spotted you yet, so you took the opportunity to sneak up behind him and tap him on the shoulder.

‘Hey, stranger.’

He swivelled round, his eyes lighting up when they met yours. Before he said a word, you were pulled into a tight hug, audibly gasping when you were lifted clean off the ground.

‘Where the hell you been, Lilypad?’

You burst out laughing, remembering falling into a pond on your seventh birthday and him never, ever letting you live down. A wave of happy memories flooded your mind, making you smile widely as he set you down.

‘Still the same old Yucky.’

‘Hey, we agreed you wouldn't call me that anymore.’

‘I'll stop calling you Yucky when you stop calling me Lilypad.’

The corners of his mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. ‘Never.’

And just like that, it felt as though you'd never left.

You were excited to be with your old friend again, you were happy that there seemed to be no awkwardness between the two of you, and you were really doing your very best to suppress all the other intense feelings that had surfaced as soon as he’d walked through the door.

‘Come on, I'll get you a drink.’ You grabbed his arm and dragged him through to the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge while he leant against the counter next to you. ‘Are you still working for your dad?’

‘Yep. He's hoping to retire in the next few years, so I'll finally be taking over.’

‘That's so great, you're pretty much set for life with that place.’

He nodded faintly, burying his hands in his pockets and flicking his gaze down to the floor. ‘So how, uh- how long are you back for?’

‘I'm flying back early on the 31st.’

‘You’re not even staying for New Year?’ The hint of disappointment in his voice made you immediately stop what you were doing and look over to him, his face going a little red as he shifted around awkwardly. ‘Ah, I bet you got loads of invites to big, crazy city parties.’

‘If you call staring at a computer screen until 3am and slowly spiralling into madness a party.’

You passed him a beer, his eyes staying fixed on the bottle as he mumbled. ‘All the work will be worth it one day though, right?’

‘I hope so.’

Your eyes locked, a heavy silence falling between you. This was exactly the kind of uncomfortable atmosphere you were dreading.

Panicking a little, you vaguely gestured towards the living room. ‘I should probably, y’know, mingle.’

‘Sure. I'll find you later though Lilypad, we gotta catch up some more.’

You gave him a warm smile and nodded, turning away and disappearing into the crowd.

The next couple of hours seemed to blur together. You made meaningless small-talk with people you barely knew, all the time just thinking about Bucky, about how quickly things had gone from fun and light-hearted to incredibly tense.

You just hoped you could get things back on a good track before you had to leave, losing him completely was the very last thing you wanted.

Shuffling into the kitchen to grab yourself another drink, you noticed him duck out the back door. He must've hit his socialisation limit. The two of you used to reach that point around the same time at parties, so you'd slink out together and share a cheap cigarette.

Abandoning your freshly opened beer on the counter, you followed him out, finding him tucked away around the side of the house.

‘Right on time.’

His head snapped towards you, the cigarette almost falling from his mouth as he shot you a wide smile. ‘Am I that predictable?’

‘I just know you too well.’

You leant against the wall next to him, hugging your arms tight as you felt yourself start to shiver, cause you were the kind of idiot that went outside in December wearing short-sleeves. Bucky noticed straight away, letting out a gruff chuckle as he shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and wrapped it round you.

‘That cushy city life has made you soft.’ He rubbed your arms a little, trying to warm you up, before eventually bringing his hands to rest on your shoulders and fixing his gaze to yours. ‘I'm really glad you're here, Lilypad. I've missed you.’

‘I've missed you too, Buck. I've missed a lot of things about this place.’

‘So why don’t you stay longer?’

‘Believe me, I was lucky to get this much time off.’

His eyes narrowed slightly, a concerned frown spreading over his face as he folded his arms across his chest. ‘Is everything alright? I haven't heard much about this job but so far it's pretty much been all negative.’

‘Oh, I do love it, honestly I-’

‘Why would you even try lying to me? You know I can always tell.’

You couldn’t help cracking a slight smile at his smug expression. He was right, the last time you’d managed to successfully lie to him was in first grade when you told him you didn’t know where his crayon sharpener had gone, knowing full well it was stashed in your pocket.

‘It's just a lot.’ You rubbed your forehead exasperatedly. ‘Apart from the few hours of sleep I get each night, I'm pretty much constantly working. You asked earlier if it was worth it and, to be honest, I really don’t know.’

He nodded faintly, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his foot, before opening his arms towards you.

‘C'mere.’

You didn't hesitate. Launching yourself towards him, you let him enclose you, squeezing your eyes shut and wrapping your arms around his neck.

‘You'll figure it out.’ He mumbled into your neck. ‘You always do.’

‘Thank you, Buck.’

After a minute or so, you both pulled away slightly, stopping when you came face to face. A lot of things about home had slipped your mind whilst you’d been away, but you’d never forgotten how gazing into Bucky’s piercing blue eyes made you feel.

That feeling had never changed, and you were sure it never would.

You dropped your hands to rest on his shoulders, your eyebrows shooting up when you noticed how rock-hard they were. ‘Jesus, Buck. I’ve only been gone for two years, have you been at the gym that whole time?’

‘Nope, just been working hard at the garage.’ What absolute bullshit. ‘But feel free to keep the compliments coming.’

You smirked and feebly shoved him away, turning to head back inside but stopping suddenly before taking a step. ‘Oh, you better pick that cigarette butt up or my mom will go ape shit.’

‘Good call.’

You slipped through the back door, passing his jacket back when he followed you in. The two of you couldn’t have been out there for more than a few minutes, but it seemed as though the crowd inside had really started thinning out.

Bucky’s parents strolled over when they spotted him, informing him of their intent to leave pretty soon too, so he gave you a long hug goodbye and made you promise that you'd see each other again before the end of the holidays.

The two of you had parted on a good note, which was all you’d wanted going into the party, but now you found that you were pretty keen to squeeze as many more good notes out of these next few days as you could.

It was probably best not to delve too deeply into the feelings behind that sentiment. So you didn’t.

You helped your parents tidy up, your eyelids drooping as the exhaustion from a long day of travelling and socialising finally set in. Just as you were about to head upstairs, your mother piped up, using her expertly crafted trying to appear casual despite being really very invested in what I’m asking tone.

‘It must've been nice seeing Bucky again.’

‘Oh yeah, definitely.’

‘He must've changed quite a bit since you were here last.’

You chuckled to yourself. ‘Physically, yeah, but he's still the same goofy dumbass he's always been.’

‘It's always a treat when he pops round, he's such a nice boy.’ A suspicious eyebrow crept up your forehead. ‘And he's still single y'know, he hasn't-’

‘Alright. That's my cue to go to bed.’

Your dad strolled over and gave you a firm pat on the back. ‘Good idea, sweetheart. Get out while you still can.’

‘Thank you. It's nice having one sane parent.’

‘Although, I do have to say, he has been very good to us since-’

‘Dad!’ He raised his arms in surrender, using one hand to zip up his mouth. ‘Lord help me. Goodnight, crazies.’

You quickly escaped up the stairs. Stumbling into your room and pulling on your pyjamas, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in the pillows and letting out a long, exhausted sign.

As you drifted off to sleep, all the stress of the day melted away, leaving a single thought to echo around your mind.

You’d really overestimated how over Bucky you were.

---

Part 2

---

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---

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expectingtofly · 4 years ago

Text

Relief

dean/cas fic

also posted on ao3

“Dean? Dean! Can you hear me?”

Dean slowly came to, his head pounding. Disoriented, he opened his eyes and saw only blurry shapes, blinked and realized Castiel and Sam were crowded above him.

“What—?” he tried to ask.

“Thank goodness,” Castiel breathed. He was clutching at Dean's face, his palms warm, and Dean felt his face redden at the attention. "You were out for so long—" Seeming to come to himself, he pulled his hands away from Dean's face.

Dean looked around, trying to get his bearings. Trees... nighttime... they had found a vampire nest, way more vampires than they had expected...

“Is it over, did we kill them?” Dean tried to sit up.

“Woah, take it easy, Dean.” Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “They’re all dead.”

“What happened?” Dean asked, letting his head drop back on the ground.

“You’re an idiot, is what happened,” Castiel answered. “You went after three vampires at once, we told you to wait for us—”

“Alright, alright,” Dean protested, trying to wave Castiel off. His hand felt too heavy and he let it drop at his side. It was coming back to him. Not the smartest choice he’d ever made, but it had turned out well enough—he was alive wasn’t he? He saw the worry in Sam and Castiel’s eyes and decided to keep that thought to himself.

“Dean, you can’t keep doing this,” Castiel said and, shit, how long had he been out? Were those tears in Castiel’s eyes? “You could’ve been killed.”

“I know.” He realized Castiel was clinging to his hand. “I’m sorry,” he added for appearances’ sake and squeezed Castiel’s hand. “I’m alright, though. I’ll live.”

Castiel’s eyes softened and Dean’s skin warmed at the look in his eyes. To be honest, Castiel gazing at him always set his heart pounding, but there was something else in Castiel’s eyes now. A mixture of deep relief and something else—Dean hoped it wasn’t angelic fury directed at him for once again nearly getting himself killed. But before he could move, or speak to defend himself, Castiel leaned down and kissed him on the lips.

Dean froze, instantly too aware of everything—the cold, hard packed ground under him, Sam’s presence next to him, his hand still wrapped in Castiel’s.

Castiel pulled back. The soft look in his eyes was gone, replaced with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” He trailed off, his eyes searching Dean’s face.

Dean could only stare up at him. He finally kissed me. He kissed me? What the hell?

Castiel pulled his hand from Dean’s, and Dean blinked, startled out of his dazed thoughts. His heart sank when Castiel dropped his eyes to the ground.

Sam cleared his throat. “Um, alright,” he said. “Come on, Cas, help me get him up. He’s still out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Dean said, pulling his eyes from Castiel and forcing himself to speak. “I can get up on my own.” Sam wouldn't hear any of it, already grabbing his arm to help him to his feet. The forest tipped wildly when he was upright, and Sam wrapped an arm around his waist to support him. They walked back to the main road slowly, Castiel following behind. He reached out once to touch Dean's arm, then dropped his hand. Dean couldn’t look at him.

“Backseat,” Sam said when they reached the Impala and Dean didn’t try to argue. He lay on the backseat and stared at Baby’s roof, trying to piece together what the hell had just happened. Was he still unconscious? Was he dreaming? But it had felt too real. He shut his eyes against the slow rocking of the car as Sam pulled onto the road.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he heard Castiel say quietly in the front seat. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Don’t worry, Cas. It’s fine. He’ll come to his senses in a bit.”

“He’s angry with me."

I’m not, Dean thought.

“No, he’s not,” Sam answered, as if he’d heard Dean’s thoughts. “He’s just… confused.”

Confused? Dean thought harshly. Alright, maybe confused. Confused because he’d never dared to hope that Castiel liked him like that. Confused as to why he hadn’t been able to kiss him back.

When they reached the bunker, Dean insisted he could walk on his own, but Sam hovered nearby him anyway all the way to his room.

“I got it,” he said, pushing open Dean’s bedroom door before Dean could. Dean gave him a dirty look, but truth was, his brain felt like it was rattling around in his skull.

He sunk onto his bed and nodded at Sam. “I’m good.”

“Okay, um, get some rest.” Sam hesitated in the doorway and Dean stared at the floor. “Listen, about Cas—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He raised his head to look at Sam, daring him to say more.

Sam seemed to fight for words, but he only said, “Fine. But you’re gonna have to talk to him about it.”

He shut the door and Dean swore inwardly. Like hell he would.

Too tired to even kick off his boots, he lay back on the covers and stared at the ceiling. It was too much to think about.

He woke to his bedroom door creaking open. Opening his eyes, he looked up to see Castiel peeking inside.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel stepped into the room. “Did I wake you?”

“No. Yeah. It’s fine.” Dean sat up slowly. Any dizziness had been replaced with a harsh pounding in his temple.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better.”

“I can help—” Castiel reached out two fingers and Dean shook his head, a movement he quickly regretted.

“Save your grace,” he managed. “I’m good.”

Castiel dropped his hand. Dean pressed the base of his palms to his eyes, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing now that Castiel was in his room. Man up, he told himself and looked at Castiel. He hadn’t turned off the light before falling asleep and it seemed too harsh now, making him squint. Castiel snapped his fingers and the room went dark.

“Thanks,” Dean said, the darkness easing the pounding behind his eyes.

Castiel nodded. It was easier to look at him now in the soft yellow light from the hallway, his face shaded in shadows. There was still blood on his trench coat. He was fiddling with his sleeves, a nervous, unfamiliar action. “Dean, I—”

“Did Sam call the police chief?” Dean interrupted. “Tell him about the bodies we found at the vamp nest?”

“Yes, he did.”

“That has to be one of the biggest nests I’ve seen in years.” He was rambling, hoping to stave off whatever apology or explanation Castiel was preparing to give.

“You should’ve been more careful,” Castiel admonished. Dean sighed in relief. This, he could handle. Bickering. “My grace isn’t as strong as it once was, I can’t even heal you fully now—”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Cas. I’m not your responsibility.”

The words sounded too harsh even as he spoke them. Castiel looked at the floor and Dean started to hate himself for always saying and doing the wrong things.

But when Castiel spoke, his voice was soft. “You once were, when I rescued you from hell.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“I still… care about you.”

Dean froze. Castiel took a step closer to him and his skin thrummed at the memory of the sensation of Castiel’s lips on his.

He crossed his arms. “Yeah, I know. We’re family, we have to care about each other.” He forced a laugh. “Bet you wish you’d never gotten involved with the Winchesters.”

“That’s not true,” Castiel replied. He opened his mouth to say more and Dean said,

“I’m tired, Cas.” He looked up at him and hoped Castiel understood. I don’t know what this means, I don’t know what to do.

Castiel’s shoulders slumped, but he only nodded and turned to leave. At the doorway he paused, and Dean’s heart sped up, then Castiel left and shut the door behind him.

For the second time that day, Dean stared at the ceiling and felt miserable.

He could walk into a vampire nest and never flinch, but let one angel kiss him and he went into shock. He wasn’t angry that Castiel kissed him—in reality, he’d imagined it plenty. Came so close as to wish it would happen. But he never thought he’d be so lucky. Didn’t dare believe Castiel felt the same way towards him—even if Sam always was telling him to get his head out of his ass and look at the signs.

How long have you felt this way? he wanted to ask Castiel. Did it happen when you walked into that barn, the first time I saw your face? He knew that’s when it had happened for him—he’d stared into two gorgeous, blue eyes and had known he was irrevocably screwed.

Why hadn’t he ever taken the plunge and admitted his true feelings to Castiel? Maybe because he was more of a coward than he wanted to admit. Maybe because he was scared Castiel would reject him. Maybe because he was scared Castiel wouldn’t reject him. Because if for once he got to be happy, then what? He knew well enough what it meant to love someone in the life he led. How every evil force in the world tried to use the people he loved against him.

Sam was the one person that Dean would throw the world away for—and it was only right, Sam was his younger brother, Dean had to take care of him. But he couldn’t afford to love someone else that much. So many times he had lost Castiel, and he’d never known how to bear it. If he couldn’t do it when he called Castiel a friend, how could he ever bear to lose him if they had something more?

By the next day he was back in fighting shape, or at least that’s what he told Sam to convince him he could drive. Castiel was gone; Sam said he had angel business to attend to. Dean thought that was for the better. He spent several hours driving Baby aimlessly, focusing on the lines of the road and not at all the memory of Castiel kissing him, or the disappointment in his eyes when Dean didn’t kiss him back.

It wasn’t a great distraction, but it was better than staying in the bunker where Sam eyed him constantly and Dean grew tense, afraid Castiel would return without warning.

“Alright, this has gone on long enough,” Sam said a week later when Dean stood up from the map table, announcing he was going for yet another drive.

Dean paused, half out of his seat. “What?”

Sam gestured to him. “You, moping around.”

“I’m not moping,” Dean protested.

“I thought you liked Cas. Like, really liked him.”

Of course Sam would get straight to the point. Dean sat back down and shrugged.

“Cut the bullshit, Dean. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know!” Dean threw up his hands. “Ask Cas. He’s the one who started this whole fucking mess.”

“You know, I really thought that you two were finally gonna put a stop to all the pining and staring and longing—”

“Okay, shut up,” Dean said. “It isn’t like that.”

“Then what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know!” Sam watched him and Dean huffed. “I don’t know. I, I panicked.”

“You hurt his feelings. You wouldn’t even talk to him after.”

“It’s better this way. Less feelings involved, less chances of people getting hurt.”

“You really think it works that way?” Sam leaned forward. “Dean, whether you own up to it and tell Cas or not, you’re still in love with him.”

Love? Dean started to protest again, but Sam cut him off. “Stop torturing yourself, Dean. You finally have something good coming your way and you won’t take it. This life we live… you never know what’s gonna happen. When our luck’s gonna run out. You gotta take any chance you get, right?”

It seemed Castiel felt that way. He’d taken a big chance. And yeah, Dean felt miserable for crushing his dreams. For crushing his own dreams. But it had to be done.

“That’s the point,” Dean said. Pushing back his chair, he stood. “I might die tomorrow, Cas might die tomorrow. Better for us both if we don’t get too attached.” He walked away before Sam could try and argue with him further.

Two more weeks passed before he saw Castiel again. Despite everything, he couldn’t deny the relief he felt at the familiar whoosh of wings when Castiel appeared in the bunker’s garage, startling him and Sam as they prepared to go after a werewolf pack. It seemed like years since he saw him last.

Castiel wavered a little and put a hand on the Impala to steady himself. “You alright?” Sam asked.

Castiel nodded. “I’m afraid flying takes a lot out of me.” He glanced at Dean, and Dean quickly looked away. He listened to Castiel update Sam on the angels, though the blood pounding in his ears made it hard to hear. He hadn’t realized it’d be so hard to see Castiel again. Everything in him told him to fix things between them. But how? If he was lucky, with enough time, they could go back to how things used to be. Not that things had ever been simple between them.

Sam explained to Castiel where they were going and Dean tuned back into their conversation.

“I’ll come with you,” Castiel offered, still not looking at Dean.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Dean slammed the trunk shut. “Let’s go.”

For once, Dean was happy to see a pack of werewolves because it meant he could focus on the fight and not Castiel’s presence by his side. He lost himself in felling the werewolves and only when the last one crashed to the ground did he register sounds of struggle behind him. Whipping around, he saw Castiel across the room fighting off two werewolves. At any other time, it would’ve been no contest, but Castiel seemed dazed and weakened. He fell to the ground and one werewolf leapt at him.

“Cas!” Dean yelled and started running. The other werewolf turned and snarled at him. Dean shot her in the head, bringing her to the ground. Grabbing the werewolf crouched over Castiel, he threw him aside and shot him in the heart.

“Fuck, Cas,” he swore, turning back to him. “You stupid—” His words caught in his throat.

Castiel lay sprawled on the ground, his eyes shut and his waist covered in blood. "No, no, no." Dean dropped down next to him. Castiel’s head lolled to the side and Dean grabbed his face. “No, come on, Cas, wake up, please!”

“What happened?” Sam yelled, running over and skidding to a stop.

“One of them got him, he couldn’t fight them off.” Dean pushed Castiel’s trench coat aside to reveal a deep gash on his stomach. “I tried to get to him—”

“He’ll be okay, Dean, he still has his grace.” Sam’s words rang meaningless in his ears as Dean stared at Castiel’s waxen face. No, not like this, not now.

Blood continued to pour from Castiel’s wound, snapping him out of his stunned daze. He put pressure on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, his stomach turning. “Please, Cas,” he begged. His words turned into a prayer, repeated over and over in his head almost unconsciously. Please, I love you, please.

Then Castiel’s eyes opened.

Dean could’ve cried from relief. He swore instead, sitting back, his hands shaking.

“Hold on, Cas,” Sam said, stopping him before he could move. "You're hurt." Castiel looked down at his side. Feebly, he lifted his hand over his wound and healed himself. Dean watched the gash knit itself together, leaving behind bloody smears.

Dropping his hand, Castiel let Sam help him sit up. He looked around at the dead werewolves, and Dean tried to catch his breath.

“Cas, you son of a bitch, you should’ve told us, about your grace—” His voice shook and he cut himself off.

Castiel looked at him, then dropped his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was so weak, I thought I could—”

Suddenly, Dean didn’t care about any explanation. Reaching out, he grabbed Castiel and clutched him close to his chest. He buried his face in Castiel’s shoulder, gripping his trench coat, and tried to focus on the fact that Castiel was breathing, that he was alive, that he hadn’t lost him.

He felt Castiel’s hand rest hesitantly on his back. He clenched his eyes shut.

Sam had been right. Whether he told Castiel or not, Dean was in love with him. He could either refuse to let himself feel that way—he’d tried for so many years—or finally own up to it and tell Castiel, and maybe even find out his feelings were reciprocated.

Either way, he cared about Castiel, and either way it would hurt like hell if he ever lost him. There was no escaping it.

Consequences be damned, he let go of Castiel enough to pull back and look in his eyes. Then he kissed him. For one heart-stopping moment, he feared Castiel would push him away, or simply freeze like he had done before. He’d deserve it. But then Castiel kissed him back, gripping his shoulder and Dean felt dizzy with relief.

When they pulled away, he searched Castiel’s face. He hated how guarded Castiel's eyes were, as if Castiel was afraid of what he would do now. Berate him, act as if this never happened.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he said. Castiel nodded, his eyes serious. “I’m sorry,” Dean said, and he meant it.

Castiel touched his face. “You should be.”

Dean let out a laugh and took Castiel’s hand in his own. “Yeah, I know.” He gazed at Castiel and the next words came easily. “I love you.”

Castiel’s face brightened, a smile spreading across his face. “I love you too,” he said.

“Fucking finally,” Sam muttered. Dean flipped him off, even though he was right, and helped Castiel stand.

“No more almost dying, alright?” he asked. His heart was still thudding in his chest.

Castiel still clung onto his hand. “I’ll only promise if you do too.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Castiel nodded, and Dean knew that they both knew they had no control over any of it, whether they lived or died. But for now, Castiel was alive and holding onto his hand, and Dean had finally said I love you, had heard the words repeated to him. He was certain of that much, and it was enough.

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#destiel fic #expectingtoflywrites #hurt/comfort #first kiss #spncreatorsdaily #sam is basically a relationship counselor #emotionally constipated dean #cw blood

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Ready

Summary: “I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

Picks up right where the show left off. Not technically a fix-it, as I didn’t change anything, but I promise it gets better.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of (canon) child abuse and neglect, mentions of past trauma, working through trauma, denial, bit of pining (but, like, in a denial sort of way), some fluff, some angst (but not as much as there is fluff)

Author’s Note: So many thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock for endless suggestions, fixes, and beautiful images (header AND dividers!!!). Thanks to all my friends for cheering me on, especially @thoughtslikeaminefield ; I probably wouldn’t have kept going with the story without you.

This is my first Destiel story and my first time posting in a while. Please be kind.

Word Count: 7704

In case you missed it: ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

Dean isn’t sure how long he’s been in heaven, at least not by heaven’s timeframe. Probably years, maybe even a couple of decades. He doesn’t age in heaven, and time works differently, running fast and stretching slow.

For Dean, heaven is a chance to rest, catch up with his massive found family, and just breathe for the first time since he was a kid. No worrying about Sam, no waiting for the next monster to pop out, no prepping for the next apocalypse.

Nothing like heaven to give a guy time to kick his boots off and just relax.

Unfortunately, relaxing has never come easy to Dean. Sure, he can go through the motions (binge watching horror movies, binge drinking, hell, just bingeing in general), but relaxing is an entirely different matter.

Relaxing means letting his guard down. It means giving up his hypervigilance. It means sleeping hard and staying asleep until he wakes naturally and unassisted by attackers. It means spending long moments reminding himself the monster at the end of the book is really gone.

Sam is safe. Everyone he’s ever loved is safe and close, where he can reach them.

Almost everyone.

...

Jake Walker is born on the ninth of July at twenty-one seconds past 9:14 AM. His mother Samantha is exhausted after a two-weeks-early delivery, but both she and the baby are strong and steady. Her wife didn’t faint, none of the medical team ever sounded the least worried, and she heard her son’s first shocked wail as he came into the world. Exhausted, but definitely good.

His mom Betty, on the other hand, is an absolute wreck. She’s been anxious the entire pregnancy, despite good news from the doctor at every visit, and she is terrified that the unexpected early arrival of their son means her worst fears are just beginning.

Betty takes slow, calming breaths, focusing on not clamping down too hard on Sam’s hand. She has to stay strong, calm, for her new family. She has to keep her head on straight, in case—in case —

“Your son is absolutely fine, seems he just had a real particular time he wanted to arrive. Here he is.”

Betty opens her eyes to find a delivery nurse beaming at her, proffering a small, swaddled bundle.

“Never seen such a calm baby. Here, he’s been waiting for you.”

Betty looks down into the startlingly clear, mossy green eyes gazing up at her from the squashed, serene little face, and she feels something click into place in the middle of her chest. Samantha leans her head back against her pillow, letting out a long slow breath as she smiles, and Betty’s pulse slowly finds its way back to something like normal.

“We’ve been waiting for you, too, big guy.”

...

Trauma doesn’t heal in a day, not even in heaven. All the shit Dean remembers — all the shit he tried to forget — everything he ever managed to suppress — drives him from his bed at night, leaving him sleepless on his front porch, staring blankly into the night, or tinkering on Baby in the garage, digging into the perfect engine, determined to distract himself from his spiraling thoughts.

Dean has never been an idiot, no matter how many times he played the fool in life. The people he and Sam couldn’t save, the people he let down, none of those deaths are on him. Dean isn’t responsible for the pain and suffering, but he’s haunted by it all the same.

The problem is, haunts don’t go away on their own. Every hunter knows that.

It’s not that he wants forgiveness; how can he be forgiven for something he isn’t responsible for? He needs to see those people, though, see that they’re okay and at peace. He has to make sure everyone is where they should be, safe and at least content. And even if he ultimately isn’t their killer, didn’t want their deaths, would have done anything to prevent them, he still needs them to know...to know everything.

He needs absolution.

And if the person who needs to hear those things the most is MIA, well, they’ve got a history of not saying a lot of things face to face. There’s always prayer, right?

Dean starts by visiting a couple of people he hadn’t been able to save along the way, feeling strangely like someone following a twelve step program. Objectively, (ie, according to the people he talks to), he’s got nothing to apologize for. He did his best; he made tough decisions in situations forced upon him. They don’t blame him in the least, and most are truly and obviously thankful for his intervention.

Their words don’t make much of a dent in the mountain of guilt Dean carries on his shoulders, but it’s a start.

Once or twice, Dean finds himself looking up at the sky, so far from empty, opening his mouth to call out — an action so common on earth it nearly became reflex —but he stops himself both times. He’s not ready for that conversation.

But he needs to talk to someone closer to him, a deeper connection than the monster victims he’s been visiting.

He’s restless, needs to move a little, needs to talk to…

Someone. He needs to talk to someone. But he can’t. Hell, he can’t even say the name.

Pacing the garage turns to a wandering ramble down the road, past Sam and his family’s house, past Mom and Dad’s house (there’s a conversation or fifty that he’s not ready for), until he finds himself in front of what can only be described as a hobbit hole. He shakes his head, not for the first time, the corner of his mouth tilted up as he knocks on the circular front door.

He’s greeted by bright red hair, a surprisingly crushing hug, and one of the brightest smiles Dean has ever seen.

“Hey, Charlie. Can we, uh...You up for a walk? I was hopin we could talk for a while.”

...

Jake grows quickly and steadily, always near the top of all his growth charts but never alarmingly so. He’s bright, quick to anger and quick to laugh, and fiercely loving. He is both his mothers’ boy, always up for a cuddle or a wrestle, and he loves to build block towers and demolish them with equal abandon.

He makes his displeasure with vegetables known early on. On this particular morning, he introduces his strained peas to the kitchen wall with surprising velocity. Betty knows better than to encourage this attitude, so she hides her smile behind calm, controlled admonition as she offers another spoonful.

Jake looks her straight in the eyes, his smile dazzling and laughter bright, and she knows she hasn’t fooled him one bit. She sighs and lets her own smile match his. He won her over the day he was born; there’s not much point trying to fight it now.

“Come on, babe, eat your peas and we’ll see about some of those stewed apples left over from Mommy’s pie filling. Deal?”

She scrunches her nose and wiggles her eyebrows. Jake’s little eyes widen at her expression, and he tries to imitate it before dissolving into giggles. Betty takes the opportunity to poke a spoonful of peas into his open mouth.

She’s not spent much time around kids before this, but Betty swears she’s never seen a baby look so resigned and exasperated in real life. But she’s played her trump card. He’s too young for the crust, but a couple of spoonfuls of smashed up fruit (apple is his favorite), and Jake is guaranteed to eat just about anything she presents.

“Pie?” she asks.

Jake smiles and opens his mouth wider.

...

“SURPRISE!!!”

The last time he was shocked this badly, Sam didn’t let him forget that fucking cat for years. Or ever, really. Seems like everyone he ever knew is stuffed into his living room, barely leaving room for the balloon bouquets and a massive… That’s not a cake, it’s…

That’s the most beautiful apple pie Dean has ever seen in his entire life.

Dean is engulfed by arms, hugging and patting and slapping his back (was that a pinch on his ass?), everyone eager to get their turn with him, wishing him a happy birthday, saying they can’t wait until he opens his presents, it’s so good to see him, he’s looking so rested!

He manages to extract himself from the wellwishers, citing parental obligations, and finally makes his way over to Mary, smiling warmly and offering him a knife and a plate. His eyes flick anxious from his mom to the golden brown circle of perfection before him, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Mary’s smile widens.

“I didn’t lay a hand on it except to take it out of the box. Happy Birthday, Dean.”

Six plates of pie later, Dean reclines on his couch, letting the relaxed atmosphere of the party sink into his bones. The excitement and crowd of early have begun to wind down, leaving a double handful of family, both blood and found, all telling the most embarrassing, terrible Dean stories they can think of.

It’s possible Dean’s never laughed this hard in his entire life.

He heaves a deep sigh of contentment and props his feet ponderously on the coffee table, draping an arm across the back of the couch and surveying the room.

Donna, one of the apparent party conspirators, tosses him a sparkling grin over her shoulder before turning back to a rather animated conversation with Charlie about the length of Dean’s wig at the LARPing battle. Sam and Kevin are recounting Dean’s worst cooking disasters to Garth’s wife, and Bobby is entertaining Mary with Dean’s disastrous attempt to flirt with the pizza delivery girl who delivered to Bobby’s house most weekends when Sam and Dean would stay with him.

If Dean had to describe one perfect day, this would be just about it, down to the flakiness of the pie crust and the amazing collection of horror movies and original vinyls he’s been gifted. Almost every single person he could possibly want present is there, and since he isn’t dwelling on absence today, Dean decides to push his wandering thoughts out of his head and just soak it all in.

Every muscle in his body hums contentedly, and Dean feels strangely warm and peaceful, but excited, all at once. It’s weird, just sitting here and enjoying the moment, not worrying about the next minute or hour or day or even year. He’s full of pie, he’s got great tunes to look forward to, and there’s nothing to worry about.

He’s happy.

Naturally, that’s when the panic sets in. This won’t last; it never does. Happiness can’t last. He learned that a long time ago.

Sure, it’s heaven, but he doesn’t deserve to be here, so something is going to spoil it for him, for everyone. Probably Dean himself, he thinks as his eyes dart from his mom to his dad. Dean always seems to find a way to fuck things up, couldn’t take care of Sam, couldn’t keep himself alive, couldn’t even keep the Empty from—

“Hey, birthday boy.” Jody’s voice somehow reaches Dean through his darkening thoughts, and he comes back to himself in stages, focusing on the warmth of her hands on his shoulders. She stands behind the couch, leaning down to squeeze his shoulders. “Wanna get some air?”

He nods blindly and climbs numbly to his feet. Jody guides him efficiently out the door and points Dean in an arbitrary direction. They walk for what could be moments or hours as Dean plows through the morass in his mind.

“I get it,” Jody finally says.

Dean glances sharply at her.

“I still have random panic attacks sometimes, wondering if Alex is safe at the hospital, if this is going to be the hunt that gets Claire.” Her eyes are fixed on some point in the distance, and he gets the feeling she’s deliberately not meeting his eyes. “I check on Owen every thirty minutes on my bad nights, and I have to lay hands and eyes on Sean to convince myself he’s really there before I can calm down. It always takes me a minute or sixty to make myself remember where we are, where everyone is, and that there isn’t some big or even small bad waiting around the corner or under the bed.”

Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets, stuffing down his automatic reassurances. The first half of his life was spent avoiding conversations like this, and it took him a long time to unlearn the knee-jerk reaction to brush off people’s concerns with some variation of “Everything’s fine.”

Jody, with an awareness born of decades of hunting and parenthood, senses his discomfort. She slows her steps and catches Dean’s elbow, turning him gently to face her.

“That feeling in your gut when the happiness comes, the panic, that knowledge deep, deep down that everything good is bound to turn to shit.” Jody reaches out and wipes a trickle of moisture from Dean’s face.

It’s not raining, he thinks, frowning. Where the hell did that come from?

“You're going to unlearn it. You’re the toughest bastard I’ve ever met, Dean, and you've been through literal hell. If anyone has earned their happiness up here, it’s you. You’re allowed to be happy, and someday you’ll know it.”

Dean would love to reply right now, to contradict Jody. He’d love to remind her of all the bad calls he made, of all the torturing he did in hell, of all the lies he told...

But this knot in his throat is choking him. And still Jody persists.

“I know how goddamned stubborn you are, but you’re not stupid either. We have nothing to forgive you for. Maybe once you’ve talked to everyone on your list, you’ll see that, too. But in the meantime, take a deep breath, give me a hug, and at least say in your head that you’re allowed to enjoy yourself at your own damned birthday party, even if you can’t admit it out loud.”

And if the damp patch on Jody’s shoulder bothers her as they stroll back to Dean’s house to grab a couple of beers, at least she’s tactful enough to not mention it.

...

Jake takes care of his family. He’s a fairly serious, empathetic toddler, quick to kiss other’s ouchies. After receiving his first Elmo bandage, Jake insists on bandaging his stuffed puppy’s tail, his tyrannosaurus rex’s left eye (“He fight with stegosaurus,” Jake solemnly informs Samantha as he presses the adhesive strip in place), and then an old, almost-healed shaving cut on Betty’s left knee.

“Mama better now?” Jake asks, somehow managing to sound strictly professional and absurdly adorable at the same time. He looks up to Betty for approval, and she wonders how she manages to let him touch the ground at all with how much she just wants to hold him all day long.

“Mama so much better now,” she informs him, careful to stay serious. He rewards her with the golden smile that is the highlight of her days before rushing off to find someone else he can fix up.

Both Betty and Samantha marvel in his quickness to share his snacks. They never refuse an offered Cheerio from him, no matter how damp or sticky (though a few of those disappear quickly when Jake’s attention wanders).

The discussion over a first pet is fairly quick and decisive. Everyone agrees the pet must be something fluffy that can be cuddled. Betty vetoes anything smaller than a cantaloupe, citing her clumsiness and tendency to step on things that should never be trod upon. Jake vetoes cats, saying he just doesn’t trust them, and Mommy and Mama share one of their silent conversations before Samantha speaks up.

“A puppy it is, then, Jakey. Let’s go look up some good breeds.”

Their first pet is a rescue named Garth, at Jake’s adamant insistence, though they're still not sure where he learned that name in the first place. Garth is clumsy, awkward, easy-going, and the most spoiled and cared for pet in the neighborhood.

Jake’s little sister Tabitha comes along shortly before his fourth birthday, and he takes to big brotherhood with an authority and self-assurance that delights every stranger the family meets. When she eventually starts walking, Jake is right by her side, guiding each one of her toddling little steps while a beaming Mommy and Mama follow close behind.

No one is even a little surprised when Tabby’s first whole word is “Hake.” She masters the letter j eventually, but continues to refer to his big brother by the name she gave him for most of the rest of their lives. Jake doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“It was just a matter of time,” Samantha says one night, as she and Betty are getting ready for bed one night not long after Tabby has given Jake his new moniker. “You know what I mean?”

Betty, who has known exactly what Sam means since the day she literally tripped over her future wife at university, smiles and turns down the covers on her side of the bed.

“That’s Jake,” she says. They’ve spent hours, discussing their son’s odd, charming quirks long into the night, offering up phrases like “old soul” and “wise,” and eventually realized nothing they said could ever completely encompass the loving little person they somehow managed to bring into the world.

“That’s Jake,” Sam agrees, and turns her version of Jake’s golden smile on her wife. Mischief sparkles in her eyes, and Betty wonders how she ended up with three people in her life that she absolutely cannot win against.

“Ready to get sweaty, Betty?”

Betty groans but can’t hold back her grin. “You are the absolute worst, and that is exactly why I love you.”

…

Sam manages to shock Dean when he insists on a big family Christmas. His extra years on earth apparently helped the younger Winchester warm to the idea of holidays, finally getting to enjoy them with his son as he never did during his own childhood.

Sam doesn’t have to try very hard to talk everyone into celebrating. Things have been calm and serene, more than a little on the uneventful side, and Dean figures it will add some variety to his afterlife. Something to plan, something to look forward to that won’t be crashed by murderous Elder Gods or various other supernatural entities.

Probably.

Dean secretly loves that feeling of finding the perfect present for someone, something he was never really in a position to do back on earth. He takes a deep breath, proactively reminding himself that this is okay, this is allowed, this is good, that everything is not only okay but actually kind of great, really.

He can be happy. He can. He can do this.

The shade of red Sam’s face turns before he finally dissolves into laughter is a thousand percent worth the degradation of actually gifting someone a signed vinyl copy of Celine Dion’s first solo album.

“It’s perfect, Dean. Thanks, man.” Sam pulls his brother into a hug, and his giant paw slapping Dean in the middle of the back literally knocks the panic right out of him. Deans huffs, at a loss for words, and hugs Sam back perhaps just a smidge too forcefully before letting him go.

“You’ll never top Sapphire Barbie for best Christmas present, but this runs a close second.” Sam shakes his head, still grinning as he reads over the back cover of the album while Mary and John look on, varying levels of confusion and amusement on their faces.

“What’s he talking about, Dean?” John asks. He takes a long drink of his whiskey. “Sapphire Barbie? Some kinda code word or something?”

Sam and Dean glance at each other, their shoulders tensing automatically. For a moment, Dean can actually feel the phantom hunger pains transposed over the current fullness of his belly, and he can see a tiny Sam (still way more hair than necessary), huddled despondent and hungry under a shitty, moth-eaten motel blanket, convinced there would be no Christmas.

“Dean, uh...accidentally got me a Barbie for Christmas one year, it was — a, uh — yeah, he wanted to make sure I got a present, so he grabbed it, and…” Sam trails off.

John huffs a confused laugh, and Dean’s hackles rise at the scoff, so like Sam’s and yet so much more...condescending. John rises from the couch and goes to refill his glass. Sam seems content to let the moment pass, but something in Dean’s gut, something latent and ignored since his heavenly ascension, sparks and smolders bitterly.

“How the hell do you ‘accidentally’ get somebody a Barbie?” John asks, still chuckling, and Dean suddenly realizes he’s real fucking tired of biting his tongue.

“I stole the Barbie. Stole a couple of other things, too. A Christmas tree, some decorations, a baton.”

Mary glances between her sons, confused, before turning to John. “Where were you while this happened?”

A parade of emotions march over John’s face: confusion is followed by slow recognition. Guilt makes a quick appearance only to be chased away by dull, ashamed anger.

Dean can practically see John’s mind flashing through the scenario, recalling more about the hunt than his own sons on that cold, nasty Christmas Eve. He knows the instant his dad reverts to default setting of laying the blame on his eldest son. Dean braces himself automatically, his body viscerally reacting to the familiar storm on his father’s face.

Dean has the fleeting thought that at least his dad is drinking from a glass now; ought to hurt a lot less than being hit with a whole bottle.

“You left your brother to go steal from somebody else’s home on Christmas? After what happened with the shtriga?”

Dean knows true anger, near rage, for the first time in heaven, and the bitter wash of it through him is cutting and all too familiar.

“Pretty stupid thing to do, I know, but I wasn’t even twelve yet, so I wasn’t making the wisest of decisions.”

“Not even twelve?” Mary cuts in. “Sam? Does anybody feel like explaining this to me?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean, anything could have—”

But Dean had a lifetime of being plowed under by his dad’s inability to take responsibility, has had way more than enough of shouldering the blame for shit he should never have been left with in the first place.

“I was thinking that somebody should get a seven-year-old something for Christmas, should make sure he has enough to eat. Where were you, Dad? What were you thinking? Because you sure as hell weren’t thinking about us.”

That knot starts up in Dean’s throat again, the muscles tightening against the fear that blossoms in his chest, echoed from decades of training. Sam’s hand finds Dean’s arm, and Dean looks to him. Instead of the caution or reproach he’s expecting, though, all Sam simply nods.

“Say it, Dean.”

Dean stands slowly, facing John Winchester with every bit of strength he’s built, every bit of courage he’s earned from a lifetime of terror, and realizes that the angry, bitter man before him is no more a threat to him anymore than Chuck is. And without looking, he knows Sam stands behind him, solid and resolute.

“I wasn’t even twelve. It was Christmas, and you abandoned us. Yeah, I stole Sam a Barbie doll. You know what I got for Christmas that year? The year before? Every fucking year before that for almost as long as I can remember?”

John opens his mouth, even now unable to admit his faults, but Dean barrels on before his dad can get a word out.

“Not a damn thing from you. Not one damn thing. Not presents, not food, not a warm place to sleep or a word of thanks or approval. Not even a fucking phone call to say Merry Goddamn Christmas.” Dean pauses one last time, and it suddenly feels like he’s towering over the man whose shadow always felt too dark, too large, too suffocating; the man whose respect he used to crave more than food and water.

“What about me, Dad? Huh? What about me?”

Dean doesn’t recall leaving his parents’ house, doesn’t remember driving home, but he finds himself on his own front porch, leaning forward in his rocking chair. He takes in a long, deep breath before scrubbing his hands through hair and leaning against the back of the chair.

A breeze rifles the leaves of a nearby tree, ruffling Dean’s hair. He taps his thumb against the arm of the chair and takes a long moment to breathe in the night air.

Dean lets his thoughts roll around for a while. The stars creep slowly across the black, the crickets chirp, and the breeze continues to tickle through Dean’s mussed hair.

“You and I could write the book on shitty dads, am I right, kid?”

He’s not sure why he decides to talk to Jack. Just nice to have someone to talk to, knowing they’re not going to talk right back.

“Could just cut him out. Dunno how that’d work in heaven.” He thinks a moment, then grins to himself. “Not sure Mom’d let me get away with that. Sam would back me up, though.” Dean grins into the somehow not-empty night. “I would be the guy that brings a family feud into paradise, huh?”

Dean takes in the wilderness around him, the empty house at his back, the extra rocking chair for...a visitor, he supposes. He has learned today that heaven, as perfect as it is, still holds anger and bitterness and loneliness, and he figures that’s to be expected.

“You still did good, kid. You and me, we did good even with our shitty old men in and outta our lives. Glad we cut yours out for good. Guess I’ll figure out how to deal with mine eventually. All I’ve got now is time, anyway.”

Dean pushes up slowly, still surprised at the lack of cricks, pops, and aches that accompanied the action his last couple of years on earth.

“Night, Jack,” he says into the wind. He glances over at the empty rocking chair one last time. “If you see him, tell him —just tell him—”

Dean frowns, shakes his head, and turns his back on the night.

…

Jake’s not a crier, not really. There are inevitable tears that come with bad falls, but Jake sheds tears like it’s a physical reaction that he’s getting out of the way so he can move on.

So when Betty goes to change the sheets in her son’s room, only to find him silently crying on the floor, she panics. Sheets flop forgotten to the side as she drops next to his, reaching instinctively for his still-plump cheeks.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, Mama, I’m sorry I scared you,” he sniffles, his eyebrows down low on his small forehead.

Jake has never lied in his entire young life, and Betty is torn because he is obviously upset about something, but his face is full of nothing but truth and confusion.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jakey,” she says, settling on the floor next to him and opening her arms. He instantly climbs into her lap, hooking his own arms around her neck and nuzzling under her chin. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can you tell me what made you cry?”

“I...I don’t know,” he says, his little voice quiet and heavily confused. “I was playing with Tabby, she was helping me build a tower with my blocks, and then Mommy came to get Tabby for her snack.”

Betty is stumped. Jake has never had any kind of separation anxiety, as far as she can tell. He’s spent nights with both sets of grandparents, even a couple of weekends with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and never shed so much as a single tear.

“You...are you crying because you miss Tabby? She’s right in the next room, baby, you can go with her for snack time, you know that.”

“No, Mama, I —I don’t know why I’m crying. Tabby hugged me, she said she loved me, then she went with Mommy, and I felt...really happy. Like —the happiest ever, and...it was too much happy?”

The last part comes out as a question, and honestly Betty isn’t sure how to answer it.

“Well, baby,” she starts hesitantly, not sure where to lead this particular discussion. “Can you explain what you mean when you say ‘too much happy’?”

He snuggles closer against her chest, his forehead pressing along her jaw. “I dunno. I think...maybe I’m not supposed to be that happy? Is that why the tears came out? Because I got more happy than I’m supposed to get? Was I wrong, Mama?”

Betty breathes slowly, tightening her hold on the little boy in her arms. “You weren’t wrong, Jake. You can be as happy as you want. There’s never too much happy, I promise.”

She feels him shift, and she looks down to meet his clear, green gaze. He studies her carefully, scrutinizing her expression, and she’s reminded why she’s always been so very careful to tell her children the truth, albeit on levels they can understand.

“You pinky promise?”

The proffered pinky is smudged, pudgy, and absolutely perfect. Betty hooks her pinky finger with her son’s, bumping his nose gently with her own.

“Jakey, you have my eternal permission to be as happy as you are capable of feeling. And no one is ever allowed to take that from you. Good?” He nods, and she carefully brushes the tear tracks from his cheeks. “Sometimes feelings are really big, and they’re just a little too big for your body. They have to find a way out, and that’s why the tears come out.”

“Is that why you cry when you watch the kissy movies?” he asks, suddenly smiling. “Your feelings are too big, too?”

“Yup. We’ve got big feelings in this family, Jakey. Better get used to it, kiddo.”

...

More time passes. Dean walks, he talks, he goes through the motions. He heals a little with every conversation, every time he reaches out, and even though some of the wounds feel as fresh as the day he got them, eventually all that’s left are faint scars. He’d never willingly erase the scars, anyway. He earned them, and he’ll be damned if something like a little death and talk therapy could just wipe them away.

Gradually — so gradually Dean doesn’t realize it until Donna makes a comment one night after their regular poker game — Dean learns to not only let his guard down but drop it entirely. He’s shocked to realize the loss of his emotional armor doesn’t even bother him.

Dean works on Baby, drinks with Bobby, teaches Mary how to make an apple pie from scratch, and even manages to have a couple of honest, semi-civil conversations with his father. They don’t exactly reach Andy and Opie levels of father-son bonding, but John does eventually manage to grudgingly admit he fucked up some (a lot). Dean supposes anyone can make progress in heaven if they try hard enough.

He’s talked to everyone he can think of, settled scores, smoothed ruffles, filled himself to bursting with absolution. Dean is so absolved he thinks he might punch the next person who pats him on the back and tells him how much good he’s done for the world.

And still, he comes home every night to that extra rocking chair.

He waits now, waits while he talks with Sam, waits while he walks through the woods, waits while he changes Baby’s oil. He can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. He can feel it around himself, like a suit of armor or a second skin. Nothing terrible, nothing ominous, but something. Which is weird because nothing ever seems to happen in heaven, not really.

Could be he’s just bored, but Dean doesn’t think that’s it. Not entirely.

He talks to Jack nightly now. It’s a habit, something to help Dean talk through and untangle his thoughts into something he can understand. He looks forward to their talks, being able to get his feelings out without being either validated or rebuffed. Just letting some steam off.

He’s done it for so long that he can barely remember the night he started. Dean knows Jack can hear him, but the kid’s been true to his word, stayed hands off and radio silent. He lets mortals deal with their own issues, keeping himself and the supernatural world well away. Even the angels leave people alone in heaven.

Especially the angels, Dean grudgingly admits to himself, late one night after leaving Sam’s house. Instead of going home to that extra rocking chair, he drives Baby slowly, aimlessly, yet somehow ends up back on that same bridge where he met up Sam all those years ago.

He parks right at the end (no traffic in heaven) and strolls out to the middle, scuffing his boots and sending little puffs of dust in the air. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, out of habit more than anything else, and he lifts his gaze from the ground up to the full moon in the sky.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Hope it’s goin good for you.Things are pretty good here. I know you know, you’re everywhere and all that,” Dean waves his hand vaguely, then continues, “Just wanted to let you know, I guess. I didn’t tell you enough, but we—I —really appreciated you. Appreciate you. You, uh...you did real good, kid. Then and now.” He pauses, then takes a breath, standing straight and letting all pretense go.“Please tell Cas...he did good, and...I miss him. And I know you’re all taking the hands-off approach, but —I dunno, maybe...he could —stop by? Or…”

The silence around Dean is heavy, comforting like a thick blanket.

Or a tan trenchcoat, he thinks.

“Jack —“

He cuts himself off, though. He spent all this time in heaven working through rivers of bullshit, wearing down mountains of lies and self-loathing until he can finally be honest and open with everyone. And if he’s going to be honest with himself tonight, Jack isn’t who he needs to talk to.

“Sorry kid, I gotta put you on hold.”

Purgatory flashes before his eyes, that sense of loss and being lost, the desperation and certainty that he’d never see his best friend again.

I can’t do this anymore, he thinks. I can’t pretend anymore. And I’m done lying to myself.

“Cas. Castiel. I hope you can hear me. I miss you. I don’t know where you are. Bobby said you were here, that you helped remake this place into something pretty damned awesome, but I never see you. I can feel you sometimes, can tell some things are up here just because you put ‘em there. Someone will tell a story, and I swear I can feel you standing right beside me, can almost hear you frowning and not understanding the joke. I…”

He knows there’s something left —knows he hasn’t found the right words yet. He has no idea what that right thing is, or even what he’s still waiting for, but he figures if he just barrels on, it’ll come to him.

“There was too much in the way, back on earth, in Purgatory. Too much always coming after us, trying to kill us or worse. I got in my own damned way, never knew what to say or how to say it. Didn’t think I deserved...I should’ve…”

He’s not sure what’s more bizarre, that he’s praying to someone who probably won’t respond — probably can’t even hear him — or that he’s doing so in a place wildly opposite from that last time he prayed like this.

Dean isn’t sure how he keeps ending up in this situation, but here he is, gasping out his feelings to the night air, barely able to squeeze the words past that perpetual knot in his throat.

“It’s a lot clearer up here, more room to breathe and think. This heaven you and Jack made...it’s great. Hell, it’s damn near perfect. But there’s no you. And I just can’t see my heaven as right without you. I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

A wispy cloud, silver in the moonlight, drifts across an otherwise flawless sky. Dean stares upwards for several minutes, wondering if Cas can see the same stars tonight, wherever he is.

“Maybe...I don’t know if you can come back. Or if you even left. I don’t know how any of it works.”

He’s on the cusp. He can almost taste the next step.

Dean’s at a loss, though. He could be brave: he could say everything he should’ve said in that last moment, everything he should have told Cas.

Or he could take the comfortable path, revert to being a dick and tell Cas exactly how he feels about all this silent treatment, about the no-show in heaven or not telling him about his deal with the Empty until it was too late, about waiting until the last second so Dean would have no time—

Or he could do both.

Both is good.

Metal railings squeak under Dean’s punishing grip. He’s not sure when he grabbed hold of the bridge itself, but right now he needs all the support he can get.

“You left me! You should have told me, given me a chance. Another chance, just one more. I’m sorry, Cas, I knew but I didn’t. I— I should’ve told you, should’ve held you, I could have—“

The tears flow unimpeded, the air squeezed from his lungs in convulsive gasps, but Dean can’t stop now.

“I should have told you everything I felt, every day. I should have trusted you more, and I’m so sorry. You were always family, you were always there for me when I needed you. We both fucked up so many times, lost so much time together. I was so angry at you, at me, at everyone and everything, and I let it get in the way.”

The silence around him is maddening. Here he is, ripping his guts out in the middle of the bridge, and all he gets back is crickets and evening breezes. Dean shoves off the railing, too frantic to stay still.

“Gimme something, Cas, anything! I’m pouring my heart out! I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I swear I’m gonna do better, but you’ve gotta give me the chance! Just...just give me some sort of answer, please? Let me know you’re there!”

The silence persists.

Just as quickly as Dean’s rage crescendos, it fizzles suddenly. He drops to the ground, back and head slamming hard against the side of the bridge as he lets out a roar of helpless rage. His fists grip his hair, teeth grinding against the wave of helplessness that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I missed my chance, I waited too long, I should’ve said— I should have—“

And then it comes to him.

His hands draw down from his hair, scrubbing his face before steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize.

“I’m an idiot.” His voice is barely audible, even to his own ears, but he has no doubt his words will reach their intended destination. “This place you built, you and Jack, it’s as good as it gets. I deserve it, I earned it. I got my family, I got the easy life for a while. I got my family. I had my rest. There’s only one thing left in the universe I need, only one person I want.”

Dean stands, dusting himself off and turning his face back up to the stars.

“I’m ready, Cas. I— I love you. And I’m ready for the next thing. Whatever that is. However that is. As long as—”

One last pause.

“As long as you’re there, that’s all I need.”

...

The inevitable day of separation comes: Jake’s first day of kindergarten. Samantha is proud of her guardian warrior, knows he’s going to succeed at everything he puts his little bullheaded mind to. Betty hopes very hard that he won’t be too lonely without Tabitha there with him. Tabitha only knows that Jake’s finger tastes good and makes her gums feel better when she chews on it.

Jake, as always, approaches this monumental step with aplomb and logic.

“I’ll give it a shot,” he says casually as his little sister gnaws on his thumb. “An’ if I don’t like it, I’ll just stay here and take care of Tabby. You an’ Mommy can go to work, then, ‘kay, Mama? I can make nut butter n’ jelly sammiches. But I’ll try it out.”

...

School isn’t so bad, Jake decides on his second day. His teacher Mrs. Harris seems to know what she’s doing (she already knows who she can trust with scissors and glue), and the other kids are nice enough. There’s different toys (“learning tools”, Mrs. Harris calls them), so that’s interesting enough, but—

Something is missing.

“Can you tell me what you mean, Jakey?” Betty asks at dinner that night. “Are there supplies you need? We got everything on the list.” She wipes a smear of sweet potato off Tabitha’s face before looking back to her son. His mouth is turned down in a frown of concentration, like he’s trying to remember something.

“I don’t need anything, Mama, just...someone. I need someone. My friend hasn’t come to school yet.”

“It takes time to make friends, baby,” Samantha says. “It’s only the second day of school. Have you tried asking anyone to play yet?”

“Yeah, and they’re fun and all, but they aren’t my friend. My friend isn’t here yet,” Jake says. Then his frown vanishes with the sudden mood change of a five-year-old, and he turns beseeching eyes on Betty, aiming unerringly at the softer target. “I finished my green beans. That means dessert now, right, Mama?”

Jake decides on the third day that the best place to wait for his friend (he just knows he’s going to show up any day now) is the playground.

“My friend likes the playground,” he murmurs. “That’s good, I like the playground, too.” He eats his lunch slowly, watching the other kids wolf down their food so they can have extra playtime. He’s barely finished his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, though, when he’s distracted by movement on the other side of the play yard. The door to the school opens and the school secretary steps out. Then she turns and gently pulls someone out from behind her.

A small boy stands in the doorway, white shirt tucked neatly into black slacks. His blue tie is a little loose, as if he’s been tugging on it, and his tan jacket is a little too big, hanging loosely around his small frame. His hair looks like someone was in too much of a rush to comb it properly. He clutches a pink piece of paper in one hand and, in the other, a backpack inexplicably decorated with flying, winged slices of pizza.

“Late drop-off, parent had to run,” the secretary tells Mrs. Harris before tiptoeing out of the room.

With an anxious glance at the other children, the boy scuttles forward and immediately trips over his own untied shoelaces.

Jake is at the little boy’s side before anyone else can react, kneeling down to check on him. The prone child is too shocked to cry, both by the fall and by the sudden appearance of this unknown factor. Jake checks him over, then nudges him until he sits up.

“You gotta keep ‘em double tied,” Jake says seriously. “Or else that’ll happen all the time.” Without waiting for an answer, Jake sets about the laborious task of looping each set of laces in turn, rabbits chasing each other around trees and down holes until the shoes are secure.

Jake climbs to his feet and reaches down, gripping the other boy’s shoulders and helping him stand. A dark smear of jelly stains the shoulder of the coat in the shape of a smudged purple handprint.

“Thank...thank you,” the smaller boys whispers. He lifts his eyes hesitantly, and clear blue meets olive green for the first time. “I’m Chris.”

“I’m Jake.” He thinks for a long moment, frowning. Something is settling in his chest, something big and permanent and scary; at first he thinks it’s too much.

Then he thinks back to what Mama told him: you can be as happy as you want.

He smiles at Chris. “You’re with me. You’re the one I was waiting for.”

Hope and just a bit of delight flicker across Chris’s eager face.

“I am? You mean it?”

Jake nods and grabs his new friend’s hand. “Yep. Now you’re here, that’s all I need. And nobody's allowed to take you from me, Mama said so. C’mon, let’s play cars.”

59 notes · View notes

ssamie · 4 years ago

Text

six. she likes someone else, idiot.

oikawa tooru x fem langa!reader

(hq x sk8 the infinity)

warnings: spelling mistakes, swearing, 2k+ words, u have langa’s blue hair sorry

gen masterlist. “snow” masterlist.

"as promised, here we are" oikawa greeted her as she opened the door to reveal him and iwaizumi. "good morning " she greeted them with a bubbly smile "hey" iwaizumi nodded at her.

"oh, you're not skating today, y/n-chan?" oikawa hummed "well, i don't want to accidentally leave you behind again" she said as she closed the door behind her. oikawa sweat dropped and nodded along "how thoughtful" he chuckled

"here's your coffee, oikawa-san" she had a determined look on her face as she hands him the beverage in a disposable cup

"oh... yes.. my coffee" oikawa deeply inhaled a breath of air and took it from her. "thank you, y/n-chan. i didnt think you were serious about it, though" oikawa laughed as he took a sip of the coffee

"oh, well i thought you'd be bummed if i forgot a promise" she said

as soon as she looked away, oikawa gagged and shuddered, making iwaizumi sweat drop and look at him in concern. "dude what the hell?" iwaizumi deadpanned

as y/n looked back at them, oikawa's dread filled expression quickly changed into one of delight as he happily chugged down the drink

"haha, i was just amazed at this coffee!" oikawa exclaimed with a grin "and y/n-chan made it so its extra special!"

"oh, that's great!" y/n cheered as oikawa gave her a thumbs up paired with a wink "im glad you like it"

"yup! looking forward to the next one tomorrow" oikawa chuckled

iwaizumi watched the whole thing go down with a look of bewilderment. he was just about done with these two and their shenanigans. "dude.." iwaizumi muttered as he watched oikawa gulp the whole thing down "why're you doing this.."

oikawa turned to him with a grin and clocked his head to the side "what do you mean, iwa-chan?" he asked "i told you, y/n-chan made it so its extra special!" oikawa said with a laugh as he threw the cup away at a random trash can

iwaizumi's eyes widened as he watched his friend jog over to the girl and happily start up a conversation

"jesus christ.." iwaizumi sighed "i don't know if him being like this is a good thing or not.."

now, its no secret that y/n was attractive. her features were head turning. and her eyes alone could bring a grown man to their knees. she was quite captivating, to say the least.

so it shouldn't come as a surprise if boys and girls start flocking around her for the same purpose.

to have her as their girlfriend. what else?

"hey, hasegawa-chan" a boy greeted her as she exited the classroom. "oh. hello.." she replied with a hint of confusion

"are you free today? if you want, i would love to treat you to some snacks after school" the boy said with a nervous chuckle. "oh, thank you but.. i have club duties after school." she said "maybe some other time"

she then walked away from the boy, absolutely clueless to the fact the she was just asked out on a date.

from inside the room, oikawa watched the whole thing go down with a look of distaste. "hey, hey, iwa-chan!" he slapped iwaizumi's arm. "that boy just flirted with y/n-chan, look!"

iwaizumi spared him a glance before looking back down at his comic. "i know, shittykawa." he sighed "its no big deal anyways. she declined, didn't she?" he said

"it doesn't matter! people are trying to steal her before i could even exit the friend zone!" oikawa exclaimed "actually, im not sure if im even in the friend zone yet!" he pulled at his hair in distress

"i told her we'd be best friends in the future but that means we're not right now, right?!"

"you're thinking too much, shittykawa" iwaizumi sighed as he pushed him off his desk, since he was hitting his head repeatedly against the wood

"im gonna follow her and shoo the boys away" oikawa perked up with a determined look on his face. "dont do that" iwaizumi grunted in annoyance. "and you look stupid. your forehead has a red spot now, dumbass"

"actually, what if i ask her out before they do?" oikawa hummed thoughtfully to himself.

"you did that already. didn't she say she has the 'boyfriend spot' reserved for someone?" iwaizumi raised a brow

"whatever im gonna follow her" oikawa waved him off. "dont do that-- and he's gone." iwaizumi merely sighed as he watched oikawa rush out of the door

"now.. who is that ugly guy?" oikawa muttered to himself as he watched a boy flusteredly hand y/n a letter

"h-hasegawa-san..this is for you!" the boy exclaimed as he handed her the letter without making any eye contact. "oh.. its a letter" she muttered as she went to open it

"no! uh- read it later when you're alone.." the boy stammered out "it's a bit embarrassing for me" he said. "oh, okay then" y/n simply nodded and put it in her pocket. "goodbye" she said as she walked away

"right! bye, hasegawa-san!" the boy nervously waved

oikawa sweat dropped as the boy looked at her with a lovesick grin even though she just straight up ignored him and walked off. well it's not like he has room to say anything. he's the exact same, if not, maybe even worse.

"tch. hey" oikawa called out to the boy.

"me..?" the boy muttered in confusion as he pointed to himself. "yeah you" oikawa raised a brow as he judgingly looked him up and down "why'd you give y/n-chan a letter?" he scowled

"oh well i -" before the boy could finish oikawa laughed at him in a mocking way. "yeah yeah, save your voice. it's not like i'll listen to you anyways" he said with his usual charismatic smile

"but don't do that again, okay~" oikawa cooed "y/n-chan doesn't need a boy toy like you! but maybe try with another girl!" he suggested

he patted the boy's shoulder and waved him goodbye "good luck~" he cooed. the boy watched oikawa walk off with a look of dread and confusion. "what the hell, man?" the boy muttered

"now, where is she-- another one?!" oikawa groaned to himself as he watched y/n receive another gift

except this time, it was a from a girl in the first year who was shakingly handing her a bento with a cutesy note "hasegawa-senpai..! um- this is for you" the girl said as she shyly presented her the neatly wrapped lunch box

"i made it myself, i hope you like it!" she said with a bow before hastily running off with an alarmingly red face. "..?" y/n cocked her head to the side as she waved the girl goodbye "thank you..?" she muttered

she opened the bento slightly and gasped in awe at the food

"no! don't be swayed by the food, y/n-chan!" oikawa silently screamed to himself "its a trick!"

y/n then closed it and continued to walk away.

"yes! she wasn't swayed by the food. that was close" oikawa let out a sigh if relief as he placed his hand over his pounding chest. "maybe i should cook her food from now on" he muttered as he took a mental note for future use.

"now--" before he could move another inch, he was suddenly crowded by girls that came out of nowhere. literally.

"oikawa-senpai!" "oikawa-senpai, we made you a bento!" "oikawa-san i made you cookies, see?" "oikawa-san let's hang out!"

"ah, hey there girls~" he cooed at them. as much as he wanted to leave them, he couldn't just ignore his fan girls. as annoying as they were, they were still his supporters after all.

"oikawa-san, are you practicing later? can we watch?" "we'll bring you snacks during practice!" "i'll cheer for you, oikawa-senpai!"

it had been roughly five minutes since the girls arrived. and it had also been five minutes since he's lost sight of y/n. oikawa was starting to get antsy. his sole purpose was to shoo her admirers away and yet he was being bombarded by his own.

suddenly, the blue hue which he seemed to grow so fond of caught his eye. he turned to look at her, walking so casually while she frowns down at a piece of paper in her hands

"y/n! -" sadly his voice was drowned out by the shouts and squeals of the girls, although the noise still got her attention

y/n looked up to see the brunette waving at her with a girl latched onto his other arm. and being the clueless one that she is, she simply waved back with a smile before walking away

"that might be the girl he liked.." she muttered with a hum. "he mentioned it at the park that night.."

"ack! she wasn't jealous at all!" oikawa spluttered with a gasp

"oikawa-san what are you talking about?" "do you like someone?" "what?! oikawa-senpai, you like someone?!"

oikawa waved them off and hastily ran after the blue haired girl. "y/n-chan!" oikawa exclaimed as he slammed their classroom door open

y/n, along with the rest of the class looked over to him in confusion. ".. yes?" y/n replied "ah sorry" he sent the class a peace sign before rushing over to her side

"i was gonna ask --did anything interesting happen just now?" he mused with a huff "did ya maybe get something from someone..?"

oikawa, bless his heart, was trying to be as discreet as he possibly could. though it's not like he has to try since she was probably as dumb as a rock when it comes to shit like this.

"oh.. i got a letter and a gift" she said as she shuffled through her bag for the said things

oikawa dramatically cried in his mind as he looked away from her. "she has no shame! so she really doesn't care about my feelings!" he muttered to himself in distress

"its this." she said

oikawa reluctantly faced her with a furrowed brows and quivering lips, ready to throw the love letter and bento away. that is, until he actually saw what the 'letter' and 'gift' was.

"uh what is this?" oikawa sweat dropped as he pointed to the pair of school shoes and a note from the dean.

y/n sulked as she reluctantly started removing her converse. "i got in trouble today" she said "apparently, im not allowed to wear these" she said as she stuffed her shoes in her bag and slipped the school shoes on

"well yeah, everyone knows that" iwaizumi sweat dropped. "then how am i gonna skate?" she faced them with exaggeratedly teary eyes as she uncomfortably moved her feet about

"guess you're gonna have to make do with that" iwaizumi comforted her

"is that all you got?" oikawa asked again

"oh. i actually got a love letter and a bento. but that's about it" she casually replied

oikawa gave her a painfilled smile and a thumbs up. "ah. i see." he grimly replied. "well.. aren't ya gonna give them a response?" oikawa asked followed by a strained laugh

"i can't.." she mumbled with slight embarrassment

"why not?" iwaizumi asked

"i can't read it.." she admitted, her face gradually getting hotter and hotter from shame

"what?"

"i can't read it!" she covered her face with her hands "japanese is still hard for me! i can only understand certain parts!"

"and i also ate the bento because i was tempted!" she confessed

oikawa and iwaizumi sweat dropped and nodded along. "i see.." oikawa laughed

"well it's no problem" he said. "you can choose not to respond. you're not really obligated to, anyways."

"really? that's great!" she perked up. "i didn't know what to do anyway" she chuckled "i could only understand parts of the letter cus i wrote it for reki!" she said

"im glad im not stuck in that pinch anymore.." she sighed in relief "im not used to people liking me.."

iwaizumi watched as oikawa's face visibly fell at the mention of the redhead's name. his already pained smile quickly turned into a frown.

"y/n-chan! can you come here for a sec?" one student called for her "oh sure." y/n replied before quickly making her way to them

oikawa pouted and trudged over to his seat, plopping himself down on the chair and resting his head on the desk with a huff

"so, what'll you do now?" iwaizumi asked as he glanced at his friend "dunno" oikawa replied

"hey iwa-chan. am i ugly?" he asked. "i was gonna say yes but that'll be too mean at the moment. so no, shittykawa. you're not." iwaizumi replied with a sigh as he put his comic away

"is that reki guy hotter than me?" he asked again. "i dunno, dude" iwaizumi shrugged "i mean, probably."

"do ya think i have a chance? i mean, i always get with girls so easily!" oikawa huffed. iwaizumi rolled his eyes and hit him on the head with his fist. "wanna know why you don't got a chance, shittykawa?" he said

"ouch -- yeah sure, enlighten me, iwa-chan" oikawa replied with a wince

"its cus she likes someone else, idiot."

oikawa rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his hand, watching y/n converse with another student from across the room

"just how amazing is this reki guy anyway?"

"I HAVE 40, 000 YEN AND A SKATEBOARD!" reki exclaimed as he slammed the money and the board down before cherry "IS THIS ENOUGH TO VISIT Y/N, CHERRY?!" he asked with an excited smile

"for a plane ticket!" reki replied "do ya think if i sell this skateboard i'd get at least a thousand yen?" he asked

cherry sweat dropped and pushed the things away. "what is this for?" he asked with furrowed brows

cherry watched the boy fuss with a smile of amusement, chuckling lightly to himself as reki starts listing down the jobs he's done for the money. "a plane ticket costs roughly 15 thousand to 30 thousand yen. with your budget now, you won't be able to afford a trip back home" cherry explained

"whaaa?" reki groaned out "then i have to work more? but thats so boring! i haven't skated in forever for this!" he whined

cherry patted his back as the redhead sulked. "don't worry, we'll be going with you anyways" he said "you can borrow money from the gorilla" cherry suggested with a smile

"why not from you?" reki raised a brow. "because i don't want to." cherry replied

reki sweat dropped but nodded anyways. he gathered the money and the skateboard before running on his way over to joe's restaurant.

"JOE HELP!!" reki exclaimed as he slammed the restaurant doors open. "yo, what the hell?!" joe yelled back as he watched reki rush over to him and cling on his arm with a cutesy pout

"hey hey, joe~" reki cooed "can i borrow money from you? i can right? right? great!" he exclaimed "i'll need 20 000 yen atleast!" reki said with a grin as he held his hands out expectantly

joe spluttered as he stared down at the redhead. "hey, who said i'll give you money?" he scowled

"cherry did!" reki exclaimed

"kaoru.." joe muttered through gritted teeth. "that damn brat." he sighed. "whatever. i'll give ya money." he said. "it's to see y/n right? we've been planning on visiting soon anyway"

"really?! great! can i have it now-" reki was cut off by joe's laughter. "no, no" joe cooed

"you're gonna have to work for it" he smirked as he pulled out an apron and a menu and shoved it into the redhead's arms. reki's expression morphed into one of dread as he held the apron against his body ".. am i supposed to be a waiter?" he groaned out

"you're a smart one, aren't ya?" joe said in a teasing tone

"but why do i have to work?" reki whined. "oh, cmon! it's for y/n, don't ya care about her?" joe taunted him

reki sent him a glare and reluctantly put the apron on. "for y/n.. sure" he muttered with a blush of embarrassment as joe started ruffling his hair like a child

"hey, joe.." reki trailed off "if i have to work.. the shouldn't he be working too?!" he shrieked out as he pointed to miya who was quietly sitting by a booth. "hah?!" miya exclaimed "i actually have money, unlike you, you slime!" he yelled

"how?! you're thirteen!" reki shrieked out

"and you're seventeen but poor! shut up and take my order, slime!" miya hissed back at him

"i hate you!" reki hissed back "im not letting you near y/n after this, just so you know" he said. miya simply rolled his eyes and huffed. "shut up, slime. i want a drink." he said

"you shut up" reki muttered back in annoyance, but quickly wrote the order down anyways

"haha, keep this up and you'll see y/n in no time!" joe cheered as he patted reki's back. "why can't you just give me money, dude?" reki groaned

joe laughed and sent him a cheeky wink "gotta milk the opportunity, you know?" he mused

"so you're just using me!!"

ppl r asking for them to see y/n skate,, dw that's coming soon haha,, and reki and the others are also appearing soon :)

"exactly!"

sorry for the spelling / grammar mistakes if there are any :<

38 notes · View notes

theweasleysredhair · 4 years ago

Text

Decisions, Decisions [D.M.]

Character: Draco Malfoy

Word Count: 1385

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Draco has a choice to make - you or his parents. You have a choice to make - Draco or your friends.

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: Angsty angsty angst angst. Hope the requester enjoys!

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

You rounded the corner in the midst of your hunt for your boyfriend, wand up at the ready and heart beating fast as you hoped beyond hope that you wouldn’t come across any death eaters or, worse, Draco’s dead body, just as a familiar black haired boy and his ginger best friend sprinted past you. They were barely able to spare you a glance before the boy following them ran straight into your chest.

“Draco! There you are!”

“He’s gone,” the blonde boy replied, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Who’s gone?” You received no reply as you pulled away from him, “Draco, who’s gone?”

“Crabbe. He’s gone. Idiot made fiendfyre... accidentally killed him.”

Your mouth dropped slightly as you pulled him back to you, him nuzzling into your neck as you stroked his back, “Oh Draco... I know you were close to him.”

“I don’t- I didn’t want this. I never wanted this. If-If I’d have known...” he stuttered out, his fist clenching around the hem of your jumper. You shushed him gently, trying to reassure him, “I know, I know... You’ve still got a chance though. Fight for Harry! Fight for Hogwarts - for me.”

He looked up at you through his blurry eyes, his eyelashes sticking together from the tears. “My parents...” he started before you cut him off.

“You need to make a decision... and soon.”

Before he could reply, thunder rumbled out through the hall, as if a storm was passing. Draco reached out and clasped your hand in his, squeezing reassuringly for both you and his sake.

“You have fought valiantly... but in vain,” you heard a voice announce. You shuddered and knew in that instant that you were hearing Voldemort’s voice. Draco gripped your hand harder as the voice continued on, “I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.”

You looked at Draco and you both let out a shaky breath.

“Harry Potter, I speak now directly to you. On this night you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. Should you do so I give my word that no other life will be lost on this night. You have one hour. If, at the end of that time, you have not given yourself up, then I shall punish every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me.”

The hallway shook once again before you’re left with silence.

“Come on... let’s um... let’s go see how everyone is,” you grabbed his hand in yours and began slowly making your way towards the Great Hall, bracing yourself in case you were about to find out you’d lost some of your friends in the battle.

***

You made your way out into the courtyard later that night, swallowing at the sight of blood-stained rocks, the floor strewn with broken wands. Draco followed just behind you, his hand clasped in yours. Carefully, you both made your way around the crowd before you stopped in horror as you saw just how large the group of death eaters were in front of you.

Hagrid, in ropes, stood close to the death eaters and holding a familiar body, suddenly lurched forward as the death eaters holding the ropes yanked him forward.

You glanced over to Voldemort himself, stood towering over everyone, his eyes wide and mouth spread into a thin, sinister smile, then down to the giant snake by his side.

“Who’s that Hagrid’s carrying?” You heard Ginny say from the left of you. Neville, who was stood just in front of her, paused, not saying a word. “Neville, who is that?” She asked again.

Just as Neville opened his mouth to reply, more people began spilling out of the castle. Luna and Seamus... then Cho... Arthur and Ron Weasley... then Hermione.

Hermione drew a sharp breath as she saw the body in Hagrid’s arms and you knew immediately - it was Harry Potter.

“No... NO!” Ginny cried out before trying to rush towards Voldemort. She had taken barely a couple of steps before Arthur grabbed her, holding onto her to ensure her safety.

“Silence!” Voldemort yelled out over the crowd, “Stupid girl... you cry for that?” He gestured to Harry’s limp body still lying in Hagrid’s arms.

He turned back to the crowd, “Tell me. These last few hours - as you collected the dead and tended your wounded - was he by your side?“

At the resounding silence, Voldemort nodded as if he had received an answer, “While your hands ran dark with the blood of mothers and sons, fathers and daughters, brothers and sisters, his were clasped in prayer - but it was a prayer for one and one only. While you battled courageously, until you could no longer will yourself to stand, he had long since fallen to his knees. While you cursed me until your voices grew ragged, he begged me for mercy in a voice as meek as a child’s. So do not cry for that. He’s not worthy of your tears. And do not despair of his betrayal. You were never in his heart. Not for one single solitary beat.”

“Liar!” Ron roared, before being forced to his knees painfully by a flick of Voldemort’s wand.

Voldemort gestured to him, “Did you not hear me?! Harry Potter is dead! From this day forward, you put your faith in me or suffer the consequences. HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!” Nagini hissed as Voldemort, raked his eyes over the students and staff, “Now is the time to declare yourself.”

The crowd began murmuring nervously and with a jolt of your heart, you felt Draco drop your hand. You turned your head to look at him but he was staring straight ahead, at the couple stood towards the front of the death eaters. His parents.

Lucius stepped forward slightly, his eyes trained on his son. “Draco!” The blonde man summoned him with a short nod. You watched Draco swallow harshly as his gaze flickered to you then back at his father. Lucius smiled thinly, “Draco, don’t be stupid.”

Draco stood in place, fear and turmoil set on his face. “You don’t have to go, Draco. Stay, stay with me,” you whispered to him. You almost felt the tips of his fingers brush against your own when his mother’s voice carried across the courtyard, “Come, Draco.”

Draco looked into her eyes, then ducked his head and stepped forward hesitantly. “No, Draco!” You called out, going to follow him just as you felt Ron and Neville grip an arm each to pull you back.

Draco faltered briefly, his mouth opening and shutting, looking like he was about to cry as he watched you struggle to get out of Ron and Neville’s grasps. Then he whispered, “Come with me.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and you stopped fighting to get to him. You looked around at your friends, at Hermione, at Ron. At Neville’s scared face. Over to Harry, lying dead in Hagrid’s arms. To Ginny, to George. To Molly, to Arthur. To Luna, to Seamus, to Dean. To every student you’d be fighting side by side with against the death eaters that stood in formation ahead of you. Then to Draco.

His face was contorted with the emotional pain of having to choose a side, his jaw clenched tightly. You pressed your lips together in a thin line. Then, with tears streaming down your face, you shook your head, “I can’t. I won’t.”

You took and step back, gripping both Ron’s and Neville’s hands in your own.

Draco looked at you helplessly, before glancing over at his parents. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something before it closed again as he gulped shakily.

“I’m sorry,” you thought you heard him whisper, before he turned away.

You shook your head, tears blurring your vision as you blinking harshly to try and push them away.

And with that, you watched as the boy you’d loved for nearly seven years walked away from you without so much as a second glance.

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #harry potter #all queue have to do is follow the spiders

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nonagesimus · 4 years ago

Note

sam/jess/brady in the rhps verse (but doesn't have to be rhps related)

anon? i love you. i’m so invested in this verse that very few people care about. this one IS going under a cut since it got a little excessive. the rhps fic, for anyone who would like context.

It wasn’t like Dean had timed it out or anything.

This wasn’t that kind of movie. No long keeping track of days, no semi-stalking. He just maybe had looked up whenabouts Stanford’s commencement ceremony was going to be. And maybe the date had stuck in his head. And then there was a classic salt and burn in Gilroy, and that was so close, so. It wasn’t like it was out of his way, is all.

The figure that crossed the stage when the name Sam Winchester was called was far too tall, beaming like pure sunlight, and as he walked into the group of graduates was immediately mobbed by a pair of blondes.

They were still pinned to his sides when Dean found him in the crowd of families and students afterwards.

“-rents get to argue about who’s taking us to dinner tonight,” guy-blonde was saying as Dean approached, tugging at Sam’s gown like he was straightening it.

Girl-blonde, tucked under Sam’s arm in a way that made Dean think girlfriend for sure, said, “That or one of us calls dibs on Sam and the other one goes solo. Rock, paper, scissors?”

“I’m not supporting that.” It was the first thing Dean had heard his baby brother say in over four years, and the bottom of his stomach went somewhere six feet down.

So, yeah, Dean wasn’t even paying attention to which of the blondes was talking, let alone what they were saying, as he got closer. Close enough to see the moment Sam saw him. Watched the smile slide off his face in favour of blank shock. Watched his spine go poker-straight which, yeah, the kid had gotten way taller than Dean remembered him being and he hated it just a little bit. Whatever conversation that had been happening died out completely. Dean stopped a few feet away.

“Hey Sammy.”

“Dean,” Sam said, and both blondes got a little more tense. “What are you doing here?”

“You think I was gonna miss your graduation,” he said, with a lot more confidence than he was feeling, and his douchiest grin.

The douche part apparently came across, because guy-blond muttered, “Oh, fuck off,” before turning to Sam. “This is your brother?”

Girl-blonde said, “Brady,” in a vaguely warning tone, and guy-blond said, “Jess,” sugar-sweet.

Which, at least now Dean knew their names.

“Yeah,” Sam said, still with his eyes fixed. “This is my brother, Dean.”

“Cool,” Brady drawled, folding his arms and stepping forward so he was standing between them. “Nice of you to show when you never call.”

Sam said, “Brady,” in the same tone Jess had before.

And Dean knew, he was not actually an idiot so he absolutely knew, that picking a fight with Sam’s friends was the stupidest thing he could choose to do at that particular moment, but his hackles were already up. “You got something to say about it?”

By his face Brady definitely did, but Sam said his name again, this time with a hand on his arm to draw him back. “It’s ok, just- Give us a minute ok. Go talk to your parents.”

Brady scoffed, showed no sign of leaving, but he did hang back with Jess when Sam walked off a bit of a distance, gesturing Dean after him.

“Nice to know you have such a good guard dog,” Dean said.

Sam sighed, folding his arms. “Why are you here, Dean? Why now?”

“It’s your graduation,” Dean said. “I know I didn’t go to college, but I know that’s a big deal.”

Sam just stared, eyebrows slightly raised, and that? That was new. Four years ago Dean would’ve had the chops to wait Sam out, even if it was only just. Apparently normal life had mellowed Sam out a little. Or maybe Dean was just a little on edge.

“I don’t know, Sam,” he said. “I just… Thought I’d come see what you were planning to do next.”

There was a terrible understanding look that crossed Sam’s face. His whole posture changed. “That’s- that’s really it isn’t it?” He shook his head, disbelieving. “You came to see if I got this all out of my system and I’m ready to come hunting again.”

“Hey, no,” Dean said, looking over his shoulder and seeing Brady straighten and turn towards them. “No, that’s not why I came. I just want to know, ok?”

He could tell from the set of his jaw that Sam didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t going to fight him on it. It was good enough. “Law school,” he said. “Still here. I got a full ride.”

“That’s- I guess congratulations are in order?” Dean said. “Let me take you out for a drink. Your friends too, I kind of feel like they’ll follow us anyway.”

“Probably,” said Sam, turning to head back towards the pair of them.

As they walked back, Dean did get the chance to pick on something that had been sticking out to him. “So, what’s with the earrings, trying to look like a younger, gayer George Michael?”

And they must have been within earshot, because Brady’s expression flashed venemous, before he turned to greet Sam with the words, “Everything ok, babe?” and a peck on the lips.

And Sam accepted it. Braced a hand on Brady’s waist and stayed close. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

So that. Was something. Dean cleared his throat, tried to move on. “We were gonna go get a drink and catch up,” he said. “If you two wanted to tag along.”

And yes, they did, both splitting off briefly to relocate their parents and confirm plans for later on, and then they were back. Apparently they took some time to make a plan as well, because when they made the decision to drag Dean to a bar within walking distance Sam and Brady pulled ahead and Jess walked with Dean.

“Big move, showing up on graduation day out of no where,” she said, aggressively cheerful.

“Sure,” Dean said, straining despite himself to hear the conversation Brady and Sam were having ahead of them.

Sam’s arm was slung around Brady’s shoulders, and Brady’s was around Sam’s waist, so they weren’t talking loud, but Dean thought he caught Brady saying, “-so sorry-“.

“You wanna talk about your decision making process there, hot shot?” Jess asked.

The phrase, “-not hiding either-“ drifted back in Sam’s voice.

“Not really,” Dean said. Maybe he should’ve been playing nicer.

“Cool,” Jess said, drawing out the vowel so the word could be a sentence. Then she turned so she was standing in front of Dean and stopped walking, meeting his eyes with an expression that made it clear that she was just as angry as Brady seemed to be. “I need you to know that he’s been doing fucking awesome without you. And if you’ve pulled your head out of your ass far enough to be his brother again, that’s great, but you better not hurt him again.”

And Dean should’ve brushed it off. Should have said, “Sure,” or “Or what?” or any number of ways he could dismiss an implicit threat from some college girl. Maybe he didn’t have as much control over himself as he thought he did, because what he said was, “He’s the one that left.”

“Sure,” Jess said, voice scathing. “That’s how that works.” Then she’d turned and jogged to catch up with the others, tucking herself under Sam’s free arm and leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. Dean followed. Kept his distance for a little while. Until they got to a bar and settled into a booth.

He’d kind of hoped to regain to equilibrium in the bar. Kind of hoped eighteen years together would trump whatever dynamic Sam had built up with these two in Dean’s absence, that it’d be easy. They were family, after all. Instead it just rubbed in that as far as Dean was concerned the last four years of Sam’s life were a blank slate. That he’d done much, much more than just gotten taller, and Dean was pretty sure he was the same person he’d been when Sam had walked out that door. It wasn’t that it was awkward, he’d always been able to front, and Sam at least made an effort to include him.

He managed to get them to the pool tables, and that made things little easier. Gave him something to focus on. The familiar feel of a cue in his hands, the crack when the balls impacted. And it gave him the smugness of winning - no need to play dumb because, as tempting as it was, if he tried to hustle Sam’s boyfriend he didn’t think Sam would appreciate it. But he was winning, at least until he noticed Jess leaning to kiss Brady in the corner of his vision and missed a really easy shot, and Sam took the opportunity to clean up the whole rest of the table.

None of them acted like anything at all was up, and eventually Dean had to take a cigarette break and Sam followed him out.

“How’s dad?” he asked. Tentative, like he wasn’t quite sure of his footing.

“Fine,” Dean said. “Think he’s chasing werewolves in Louisiana right now.” There was a pause. “This whole thing with- you and Brady, and Brady and Jess…” He trailed off.

There was a touch of a smirk on Sam’s face. “Yeah?”

“I don’t have any idea what’s going on in your life, do I?” Dean asked.

It got a him a real smile. “No, no you don’t,” Sam said. “Look, they- they’re not your biggest fans. But if you do want to know what’s going on in my life, I’d like you to.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, voice suddenly rough. “Yeah- I’d. That’d be cool.”

“I missed you, Dean,” Sam said, quieter.

A big chunk of Dean desperately wanted to tell him they didn’t need a chick-flick moment, but that chunk was a big part of why he hadn’t spoken to his baby brother in four years, so instead he forced himself past in the lump in his throat to say, “I missed you too.”

#supernatural #samjessbrady #samjessbrady fic #sam winchester #jessica moore #tyson brady #my fic #Anonymous #rhps verse

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