#this fic would be an excuse to use all my classic rock favorites

[hogans-heroes]

‘90s Record Store AU

John runs a record store that’s a haven for misfits, and music is Gale’s escape.

MOTA AU Masterlist 16/?

[goddesspharo]

fruit emojis asks: 🍒🍌🍈

fruit emoji asks! (I keep wondering how they chose which fruit corresponded to which question!)

🍒 What’s your favorite character dynamic to write? (Can be romantic or platonic, specific or general!)

Idiots in love who don't know it! More specifically, I love antagonistic relationships with an undercurrent of something more. A key example of this was Amy/Dan when Veep was good (so...not the last few seasons). I wish I could've written a line as good as "Amy, the gates of hell have opened and you are my plus one!" because that is ultimately the dynamic I strive for 90% of the time. The enemies to lovers trope is a classic for a reason! (The enemies to enemies who-are-boning to enemies-with-feelings to enemies-who-were-maybe-never-really-enemies trope is obviously the greatest sub-genre of said trope). Another key dynamic is awesome ladies and the himbos they feel begrudging affection towards! Sad sack dudes fighting injustice while being sad! (Basically, The X-Files?!??!?) I love it all! One dynamic that I love so much that I don't think I have enough perspective to write it is the dead girl haunting a narrative trope. (Jackie Taylor, you will always be my number one! Like Lilly Kane and Laura Palmer before you! The Solaris of it all!) I keep toying with the idea of it in different things but the legwork needed to translate what's in my head to something halfway decent feels like too much!

🍌 In your opinion, what’s the funniest joke/reference/pun you’ve made in a fic?

I probably conflate a lot of humor with banter because like...no one's telling knock knock jokes here so it's more like the dynamic of the thing is funny or it's not. That said, the end bit in that's what narcissists do cracks me up if for no other reason than because you could throw the line "It's called operant conditioning, dickhead" into Top Gun: Maverick without feeling out of place. (I also think that the Batman/Vampire references re: Robert Pattinson's Bruce Wayne are hilarious every time I write or read them but I'm dumb like that.)

🍈 Who’s your blorbo and what are some of your favorite headcanons/ideas about them that repeatedly show up in your fics? Free pass to rant about blorbo opinions.

When did we start calling them blorbos? That has to be a tumblr specific thing, right? Or I'm just An Old? Didn't they used to be referred to as Flavors of the Week/Month/Year/Embarrassingly-Extended-Period-of-Time? Apparently all I write anymore is TGM fic (let me stopppppppp) so I guess it would be Hangman? Although I almost never write in his perspective - stay tuned! maybe! this new thing might not see the light of day - so maybe it's Phoenix? I don't know, I think Hangman is a handsome idiot who deflects that he is a marshmallow encased in spectacular abs by being a jackass. And Phoenix has had to grind for every rung she has climbed and applies that well-earned weariness/caution to her relationships outside of the Navy so the only thing she can easily commit to is her lack of commitment.

I think it's almost MORE interesting to have a "blorbo" and have no canon for them. After all, fic is excuse to let your favorite characters be chameleons. If you frame something right, you can get away with a lot of differing ideas so I find that I am more flexible with "headcanons" for characters I love (re: backgrounds; not necessarily the fundamentals of what I think make the character who they are) and can't stop writing than I am for drive-by peripheral characters, to be honest. For instance, I decided while writing we're busy still saying please that Halo was a new age weirdo who was super into burning sage and healing crystals (cue Breaking Bad Hank's "it's not a rock, it's a mineral") and that tiny bit of characterization has popped up here and there ever since.

[writersblockedx]

The Exception

Requested: ‘Hello! If you are taking requests I was wondering if you would be willing to/ want to write a fic! I was thinking dean X reader where they both like each other (but they are not wanting to tell the other/ don’t realize kinda thing) and Dean let’s reader pick music when he is driving and/or let’s reader steal some of his french fries! Thank you!!’ - Anon

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Summary - Y/n and Dean have been silently pining for one another since they first met. Though, things suddenly start to come out when the two venture on a hunt on their own. Warnings - Mentions of death, general violence, mainly fluff Words - 2K

A/n - The request didn’t specfiy gender of reader so, as I mainly write for fem reader, I made an assumption!

Visit my Masterlist

It wasn't often Y/n and Dean went on hunts without the youngest (yet taller) Winchester, but, when they did, the dynamic constantly changed. Dean was flirtier, Y/n less focused on research and more centered around the time she was spending with the boy. Somewhere along the slaughtering of monsters and exterminating of ghosts, feelings developed - which made their duo hunts all the more...different.

"So why are we driving to Iowa exactly?" The girl had finally asked once they were getting close to this certain state.

Dean shuffled around in his seat a little, retrieving a newspaper that he passed over to Y/n, "Here." He said as he took it for herself, beginning to skim over the words. "Second line down." Dean directed.

She followed his instruction, "Husband dies tragically, leaving wife looking like she'd just seen a ghost." It sounded like a stretch. Y/n glanced back over at Dean, "You do know 'like she'd just seen a ghost' is just an expression? Doesn't actually mean there's a case here." She joked, earning herself an eye roll from the green-eyed boy.

"Keep reading." He told her and she did so.

It didn't take her long to realize: "He entered a new construction site with work, never to leave again. Co-workers found him, deemed it death from a heart attack. A strange incident when considering he won the town's marathon the week prior." So maybe this was something ghostly.

Y/n looked back to Dean, folding the paper up once more, "See?" He was holding an 'I told you so' expression that led Y/n to look away.

Her hands found the radio. She almost franticly began to switch through the channels, giving her mind a form of entertainment. "What are you doing?" Questioned the oldest Winchester as his gaze flickered between the road and the girl.

Her eyes never pulled from the radio, determined to locate a song that she would enjoy. "Dean while I love your obsession with classic rock music, I don't want to listen to the same three albums on repeat every drive." She told him while Dean kept his lips sealed. She pushed and shoved at several buttons before some acoustic guitar music started to lull through the impala.

Had it been anyone else, even Sam, Dean would have been throwing a childish fit right now. He would be lashing out about how his favorite three albums were iconic and not meant to be replaced by some hippy guitar music. But as it were Y/n in the passenger seat, Y/n having her hands all over the radio, then Dean kept quiet and excused such actions because, "We're almost there anyway."

She raised a brow, "And exactly where is there?"

As if answering that question, Dean pulled into the town's nearest motel. "It's a ten-minute walk from where the construction site was." He informed, parking the car.

Y/n was already getting out of the impala, Dean following as they went to grab their bags. "One of us should probably head to the library, find some archives on the property." She suggested while the boy popped the trunk and handed the girl her bag.

He sighed, slamming it shut as they turned to one another. "You mean to do research?" He clarified. To which, she nodded. Neither of them wanted to take part in said research. Usually, they left that to Sam. But on these certain hunts, where research was heavily involved and one of them had to do it, there was only one way to decide between them who got assigned which job.

Their palms conducted into fists, their eyes going narrow as they stared at one another. They patted against their other hand three times before revealing their move.

Y/n played paper; Dean played scissors.

The boy's lips twisted up into a cheerful grin that seemed to taunt Y/n. "Have fun at the library!" He gleamed walking into the motel. All while she did nothing but let her eyes roll.

Once having booked their room, Dean changed into his suit and tie, fit for one attempting to pass as an FBI agent, and headed for the site. All while Y/n stayed as she was and got dropped off at the town's library. She found a desk that she would make her own for the next hours and shuffled through a variety of books before piling them onto the desk. In that moment, she cursed Dean for winning at such a childish game they still decided to play.

But as an hour or so passed, she finally came across something that may help. In the towns history book (which dated back to the 1600s) Y/n came across the fact that before the previous property (an insurance company) had been built, a small cemetery had stood there. She was willing to bet that whatever was haunting the town, was a ghost whose bones were still buried below the dirt and stone.

She had kept reading in an attempt to find anything about there still being bodies buried on the site. Which was when her phone started to ring, and Dean's contact stared back at her. "And how is research going?" He was quick to taunt, prompting an eye roll from Y/n as many books stared back at her (them too seeming to taunt her).

"Fine, actually." She lied right through her teeth; it was still torturous. "Just found that the site, many many years ago, was in fact a small cemetery. I just need to find out which of the bodies buried there is still the one haunting the site." The girl informed, scanning over the paper in front of her. "What about you? Find anything?"

The boy hummed in response, taking a moment to answer as he chewed on something. "A load of EMF" He finally answered.

Y/n's eyebrow quirked as she slowly relaxed back into her chair. "You found a load of EMF in a diner? Because that's where it sounds like you are." She paused and Dean said nothing to his defense. "Please tell me you did actually visit the site?"

"Of course I went to the site. Spoke to a few people, spoke to the guy who had found him too." Another chewing sound blared through the phone, making Y/n squirm at the sound. "Said that it was definitely strange and that he could have sworn he saw a white cloud of smoke over the body before he rushed in." The boy went on before shoving more grease into his mouth. "Then I went around - found loads on EMF."

Y/n followed along, his words assuring them in that they were dealing with a ghost. "Okay and then what, decided to get food?"

"I was hungry!" He argued, probably loud enough that the whole restaurant on the other sound had heard it.

"And you didn't think that maybe I might too be hungry?"

Dean was silent for a moment or two, Y/n picking up on the sound of his knife and forking hitting the plate. "There's an empty seat across from me and I'm sending you the address now."

And not a second later, her phone pinged again with said location. "Hey, Dean?" He hummed as to acknowledge her words. "Any more research or anything that even remotely required something to read; it's your job."

He sighed but accept his fate, "Fine." And then he hung up.

Y/n packed every historic book she had once taken back away and walked towards the diner Dean had messaged to her. It was their stereotypical place to eat: Burgers, fries, and a warning for a heart attack. And sure enough, sat with an empty seat across from him, was Dean and a slice of pie staring at him.

"You look like you're falling in love." Y/n observed sitting in the empty chair.

Dean looked up, a great grin on his lips and glistening awe in his eyes. "I am." Then he slowly pushed his fork into the luscious desert, practically drooling.

Next to that plate, was a portion of fries. And, with Dean so infatuated with the pie, Y/n took a couple of fries, throwing them into her mouth. Dean dropped his fork before it could even brush against the cream of the pie. "What are you doing." The awe in his eyes dissipated, replaced with a stern expression that glared Y/n's way.

The girl, however, could barely keep a straight face, taking another fry. "Eating. It's what most people do in places like these." Then she ate that fry, watching as Dean's jaw clenched.

"But they're mine." He whined like a toddler would have done.

"And the least you can do for leaving me to do research while you sat here and ate fast food, is let me eat some of said fast food." She responded with the quirk of a smile.

Dean's eyes were narrow, debating in his head whether to let this one slide. And, similarly to in the car, he did, because it was her. "Fine. Go right ahead." She returned to the fries; he returned to his pie; everything was well.

"So what do we do next?" Y/n inquired. "It's not like we find a name and look for the gravestone."

Dean shrugged with a mouthful of pie. "Guess we'll just have to torch them all."

Her brows raised in surprise, "You're joking right? All of them?"

"You said it was a small cemetery."

And so, with greasy full well and truly digested, they returned to the motel and waited for it to get dark. Once it was night, the two made their way towards the construction site with two shovels, salt and a lighter. And they started digging. Luckily, the site was far from any curious neighbors so they didn't have much to worry about. It was just a rather tedious job to dig for hours, finding the many bones and having to burn every single one.

It was 3am, and they were covered in dirt, tired, and threw themselves into the front of the impala with a much needed huff. Y/n believed she couldn't have looked worse in that moment: her hair tied and an utter mess, her clothes so muddy they felt as if they were glued to her body. Yet in that silent moment, Dean glanced over to her and could have swore she was ever so beautiful. So much so in fact, it just, sort of, slipped out.

"You're beautiful."

He hadn't meant for it to happen. And when it did, they were both caught by surprise at his words. Her head snapped to him, eyes wide. She laughed awkwardly as if she must have heard him wrong. "What?"

Dean wasn't sure how he was meant to play this off - or even if he should. "I don't know what it is about you." He paused and budged closer. Now or never. "You are one of the closest people to me and I can't help but think that, whenever we're alone, about how we would be...together." This wasn't like Dean. He wasn't one for big confessions. He never needed to be. "I know maybe that's stupid to think but I can't help it. Whether you change my music or fight over who should do the research or steal my food, it just makes me think that I must see you as more than just a friend to let you do that. I mean I don't even let Sam do that and-"

"Dean-"

He kept talking. "And he's my brother. I suppose what I'm trying to say-"

The only way she found to stop the boy's rambles was to lean in herself until her lips grazed his own in one kiss - and shut him up for good.

--

Supernatural Taglist -   @desimarie12​ Dean Winchester Taglist -  @lyarr24​

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[charmixpower]

🎶 Muse hairstyles explained 🎶

Musa's Enchantix bewitched me, it entranced me, it seduced me with it's gorgeous hair. I have given into my deepest of impulses and now her hair is ever so slightly blueish purple. It's barely noticeable, nobody touch me, I have absolutely no regrets. I love it so much she's so pretty. As for a like, cohesive style. Musa's hair is only down at fancy events, as she very heavily seems like someone who doesn't like having their hair down. That's about it. Idk if there is a theme to these, they're all things that she'd super wear, they're usually twin hairstyles, and thats it. Though I find it really interesting that Musa's fashion is usually heavily on the more masculine tomboy and comfortable side, but her hair is always ultra feminine and styled. I think it's such a good cute bit of characterization. She's a girlie your honor

Anyways on to the individual styles

Short hair: My beloved short hair pigtails Musa. I love her. Drawing her short pigtails was always super hard before I just stopped trying to make them stick up like the way she does in the show XD. Also this is the type of shirt Musa wore in the second chapter of my Rivusa fic, and I got really attached to it. It's so cute!!! And it matches her vibes! Love

Long hair: I've made it clear that I'm not a super huge fan of Musa's long hair but honestly, it's not her long hair's fault. It's the fact that everyone else has long hair mixed with the fact that s4 on use this as an excuse to competely erase all of Musa's tomboy fashion traits. Like?? I'm sorry, I didn't know my favorite character was "snarky Stella lite who likes darker colors". Anyways, eventually I came upon the way to fix this, which was to give her a fuckin undercut!!! Hell yeah!!!! It's both super feminine like her original pigtails but with a alt twist that protects her from her distinct personal style from being erased. I love her undercut so much!! I picked a undercut specifically because it looks the most feminine and Musa tends to be super femme in her hair and I didn't wanna tamper with that, and she of she puts her hair down she can cover it up for a more classic look that she's sometimes fond of. It stikes a good balance between both of her styles me thinks. Bonus my redesign of her s3 outfit. I feel bad saying this bc I don't like it all that much. Like the weird not sleeves and the sweater dress with pants...not my thing. Idm it all that much, but it both looks like a really warm outfit, but also like she'd be cold at the same time? I just gave her an oversized button up shirt dress. It's still pretty alt, esp with those colors, and fashionable! I really like it. Also, yes, she also got more piercings when she went to get her hair lengthed. She deserves them <3

Loopies: Tbh, while s5 will own a small piece of my heart and soul for fixing the myriad of crimes s4 committed against Musa, I never understood why they used the bun hairstyle instead the twin hairstyle they had right there for her pajamas?? It would of been in much better keeping with Musa's original style??? Anyways I've swapped those, so not this is older Musa's classic hairstyles. Her twin hair look slowly gets more and more mature looking :)) with a bonus jersey shirt she stole from Riven

Baby Musa: pre season one Musa!!! She's in her skater girl era, with her ultra short low pigtails so they don't get in the way of all the helmets she wore. I imagine as soon as she started living by herself she chopped off her hair as teenagers tend to do, she didn't wanna try ultra short hair in front of her dad and worry him lol, and then shes slowly letting it grow back to see what length she likes the most. Idk if she cut it this short or if it was shorter originally. This experiment ends up telling her that she likes all hair lengths on herself lol. She's rocking big shirt big pants fashion in this pic btw, for the vibes. Originally all of these drawings of music only had a lobe piercing, and something about the way I was drawing her was driving me mad. Eventually I realized I needed to show her getting more piercings as she got older lol. Seriously I was agonizing before I put more piercings on the other Musa's and suddenly everything clicked

Summer look: I love her classic s5 hair sm ok? I had to include it somewhere. Her hair is still up and it's still feminine, but with the overwhelming amount of feminine from her outfit the bun not being too feminine works in it's flavor as Musa's original style hasn't been thrown in the trash SEASON 4. I turned it into a summer look, with that one red crop top form her stock art. She looks so ready for summer fun, gosh I love her. She has my second favorite pair of earrings I put on her here, which is a shame bc you can't see them xd, curse her bang—BACK!! BACK S4 SIDE SWEPT MUSA BANGS!!! BACK YOU FOUL BEAST

Cozy Musa: Yeah this is her hair from the second movie. As much as I dislike so much about it from the non senseical plot, lack of continuity, writing, voice acting, Skloom getting engaged for the second time, and really everything but the satisfaction of Erendor becoming a full villain, the gowns the girls wear, and the super Trix, uh. I really like Musa's hair. It's unique and funky, and it's something she'd totally do. The outfit wasn't all that bad, I'd even say it was better than her s4 camping outfit, until you notice that she's wearing socks OVER her shoes and I remember that the designers are either geniuses or the the enemy and I should never trust them too much. Anyways I decided to pair this hair with a more casual look bc it's a bit too showy for hiking, but still chill and causal enough for going out in a chill way. Like a super chill date, or shopping day. Something to spice up a otherwise boring outfit. And ya know I had to include a cropped hoodie somewhere!

School dance: Musa puts her hair down, once. Part one, short hair version. I imagine Musa usually very much dislikes having her hair down, but I'd willing to tolorate it for the sake of a really cute outfit, and I think this outfit is deserving of the occasion from short hair Musa era. Bonus a metal earring that I'm just now realizing looks like a sword earring. Love to see it

Eraklyon ball: Musa puts her hair down, twice. Part two, the famous version. Gosh I love this outfit so much, like her s2 dress will forever and always be my favorite, but this one is so elegant. I had a lot of fun with her hair piece, and fucking around with her bangs instead of just making them side swept again. Unlike Stella, I don't think Musa would ever go without bangs lol. This is my favorite earring btw. It's so cute and classy. V fun, this one has my favorite bangs swell

Gala attendee: Musa puts her hair down, trice. Part three, not really. This is based off of those high low dresses I saw from s6 that I only remember because they gave Musa a hat!!! >u< one of the few things s4 got right, yess Musa loves hats!!! Give her a hat!! So I included the orange and purple colors with the top design in principal bc it was the only dress that gave her a hat. This time I gave her the smaller pigtails with her hair down, and asymmetric slide swept bangs. Tbh those images of later seasons Musa with this hairstyle in the ugliest way possible (her pigtails are so much shorter than the rest of her hair that she must of specifically cut them and I hate it, I hate it so much) kinda made me dislike this hairstyle, but I still had to include it bc despite the crimes it's still a quintessential Musa look. She is still a cutie and I love her

[a-small-tired-lonely-potato]

Okay so I wrote this in the middle of the night and it would not leave me so you all have to see it.

My Opinions on Scout Ships w/ Ratings/Stories/Headcannons.

Note: I'll probably only be doing this with Scout since I don't rly know other ships that well. and I'm biased.

Scout/Sniper: 10/10 Love this ship, Awkward Introvert falls in love with Talkative Extrovert is amazing.

When the both of them are Dumb as Rocks together? 💋👌

When the both of them are BAMF's who kill and take names? 💋👌

When they are equally amazing at what they do because they are trained killers, while still being dumb because one can't socialize to save his life and the other knows no way to interact without being either Flirty or Aggressive depending on your gender and time of day? 💋💋👌👌

Love when DadSpy is in story with them, either as passive watcher shaking his head or as aggressive antagonist who can not STAND his son being wooed by a stinky bushman, like, my God Scout! Have Standards!

When it's BlueScout and Red Sniper? Star crossed lovers isn't my favorite troupe but it's a classic for a reason.

Demo/Scout: A good honest 6/10.

Friendship is the best Ship, but these two romantically make a sort of sense.

Like they're both self-destructive, but not in ways that they would ever drag the other into.

Like Demo is self destructive in that he thinks too much and drinks too much alcohol, and Scout doesn't think at all and drinks too much Bonk!.

So I think they would balance each other pretty well.

And I like to think they would be good chill buddies, you know, the 15% of the time when Scout has the ability to chill.

DadSpy here would probably kill Demo if he ever got his son addicted to alcohol. And if Scout ever got hurt by any explosives Demo would probably lose his other eye.

BlueScout and RedDemo have the same Star crossed lovers vibe.

Pyro/Scout: Also 10/10!

The amount of information I have of Pyro is equal to the amount of ducks I have held in my life, which is sadly low.

But Pyro's childish tendencies would pair well with Scout's equally childish behaviors.

The entire base would be up in flames after these two got together.

"HOW THE FUCK-"

"Mmmmphh mphhh mmmp!"*1

"Listen we swear we had 'dis all figured out, don't know where it coulda gone wrong!"

"It went wrong when you decided it would be a good idea to play FLAME BASEBALL!!!"

"It sounded like a good idea at the tim-"

"IT WAS NEVER A GOOD IDEA!!!"

"MMPH MPHH MM MPHM!!"*2

"I WILL YELL AT HIM!!"

And when Scout learns boundaries from Pyro and Pyro learns trust from Scout?

😭👏❤ 

All in all just a really cute ship.

DadSpy here would want to give a shovel talk, but would probably be too scared to. Might have to call Mother of Scout for reinforcements.

BlueScout and RedPyro? ⭐➕❤

Heavy/Scout: 7/10. Also a good ship, decent and pure.

Big-Smart-Calm-Strong that is dating Small-Impulsive-Energetic-Fast is also one of my more loveable troupes.

I haven't seen a fic of this but, we know Scout has trouble reading, so if he wanted to actually learn more so he wouldn't be made fun of, and went to Heavy to teach him, and while Heavy is teaching he and Scout just slowly fall in love? Masterpiece  😚😙😗😘

Whenever Scout get's really mad and wants to fight somebody Heavy just picks him up and holds him like an angry cat.

DadSpy would prepare a shovel talk, then when he gets Heavy alone Heavy would already know what Spy planned to tell him.

"Wha- 'ow did you know?!"

"Have three sisters, already had many speeches such as this prepared."

"Oh va te faire foutre."

"У вашего сына уже есть."

*Angry French Noises*

BlueScout/RedHeavy = ⭐➕❤

Soldier/Scout: 6.5/10. Lord help us all.

The enemy would not survive, the Communist party would not survive, the base would not survive.

The chaos these two would cause would almost be visually amazing enough to excuse the yelling.

Despite his lanky frame, Scout is no slouch and would kick ass at most of Soldiers ridiculous drills.

With as many brothers as Scout has lived with, Soldiers yelling wouldn't bother him, in fact, if you can hear these two yelling at each other, don't worry, that's just how they talk.

The only reason this is rated so low is because I have many love for Soldier/Zhanna and because Scout is loud enough on his own thank you.

But despite my personal feelings this would be an amazing read if you do it right.

Forth of July with these two would be off the fucking chain, these jack-offs would absolutely play dodge-Firework, you know the game.

DadSpy here would be frothing at the fucking mouth, any opportunity he has to attempt to break them up he would take, but it never works because Scout can never stay focused long enough to hold a grudge and everything that goes wrong Soldier thinks is the work of communists.

"Sol I swear to God I didn't fuck up 'ur map you gotta believe me!!"

"I know it wasn't you Scout."

*Spy sweats profusely from where he's eavesdropping*

"It was the work of THOSE DAMN COMMIE BASTARDS!!! TRYING TO SABOTAGE MY PLANS! AND MY RELATIONSHIP!!! I'LL KILL THEM!!"

"... Oh God really!? How do 'dey keep gettin' in here!?!?"

*Sounds of a french face hitting a brick wall echo's in the distance*

Spy would only succeed in breaking the two up if Soldier was a bother to Scout's ma, but I don't see a woman who raised 8 boys as a single mother in Boston having a problem with Soldier.

BlueScout/RedSoldier would actually be a very different and interesting read, because Soldier is very serious about loyalty, so seeing his feelings for Scout clashing with his sense of duty to his team would be incredible.

Engineer/Scout: 6.3/10

I'ma be real, I like these two more platonically rather then romantically so my ranking is gonna be rather low, but if I squint I could see them working out.

Scout is rather energetic and hyper, which is rather hard to deal with for most of the team, but I think he would be pretty good at making Engie feel young again.

Would be the type of boyfriend to bring up wild ideas about different machines, most are just funny ridiculous ideas like a gun that shoots regular bullets and silver bullets so you never have to fear werewolves, but other ideas actually make a sort of sense and are then added to the ever-growing 'My-Scout-Though-Of-This' shelf in Engie's room.

"Whatcha makin'?"

"Just fixin' up the Sentry, basic tune up, thas' all."

"Cool, cool... Man wouldn't it be cool if da Sentry switched out different bullets to shoot everyone?"

"... What'dya mean?"

"Like if it was targeting the other Scout, ya' know that blue asshole, it'd probably need'ta get bullets out fast as possible if it wanted a chance to hit the bastard, but if it were targeting enemy Heavy, it'd need like the fucking uuhh, hollow bullet thingies Soldier was talkin' bout. The ones that leave the big fucking holes in ya'."

"..."

"Ya' know... Doing different kindsa damage depending on who's 'dere... Probably a stupid idea but I was just think-"

*Crashing noise as Engie falls out of his chair*

"Holy shit!?! U gud!?"

*Grabs Scout and Kisses him all over face*

"YOU ARE AMAZING AND I NEED MAH BLUEPRINTS AND A SHIT-TON A BULLETS!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!"

You think Scout would be the problematic one of the duo, but he's too busy taking care of Engie to cause that much trouble, Getting Engie to eat and sleep and visit Medic on time and stop making everything he can get his hands on into a weapon is more difficult then you'd think, but fortunately Scout is nothing if not stubborn and persuasive(annoying) enough for the job.

After they got together, Engie was more well rested and happy, and Scout had calmed down considerably since his near endless energy had a outlit.

DadSpy more likely then not would be okay with this, Engineer is probably the One person on the team he would trust to take care of his son.

But on the off-chance he's not, he's going to have to fight the rest of the Mercs if he wants to break them up, and I don't see him winning that fight.

"ZIS IS THE CALMEST SCOUT HAS BEEN IN AGES!!! YOU VILL NOT RUIN ZIS FOR US!!!"

"BUT 'E-"

"MMHPH MMPHM MM PHMMMM!!! EEMMFMPHRRMS!!!"*3

"But zey-"

"IF YA' BREAK THEM UP I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL GUT YOU FROM EYES TO ASSHOLE!!!"

BlueScout/RedEngineer would be the calmest out of all of them.

Engie is the best at separating work from personal life, his boyfriend being his opponent would only drive him to do his job better so he can impress him. Scout would take this challenge and make it his life mission to fuck up the enemy sentries.

Medic/Scout: 5/10

Not really a fan but nothing against it, I prefer Heavy/Medic.

But if they were gonna become a thing it would probably go like this.

I feel as though Medic would probably wanna run a whole bunch of tests on Scout, Scout draws the line at anything involving needles (you will never convince me that Scout doesn't have some level of Trypanophobia.) But he's down for anything else. Endurance tests, scans, IQ tests, all of that.

As long as Medic doesn't pull out the needles, Scout's the perfect patient.

After a couple needle-less checkups where Scout was by far the easiest to deal with, Medic inquires why Scout, of all the Mercs, would be this okay with coming to him.

Scout tells him when he was little, his Ma would gather all the brothers and take them all for a checkup, after the first three fires they caused, his Ma implemented a strict plan before each checkup to keep all her boys in line, it was the type of plan that would make Soldier jealous.

But thanks to that, Scout learned to settle checkups as soon as possible without mishap. Of course needles are the exception, but nobody's perfect.

After that, Scout was in charge of gathering the other mercenaries for checkups as Medics "Little Helper", Scout hates the nickname but its stuck now.

Scouts in charge of bullying the others into taking care of themselves, and Medic's job has never been easier.

Medic decides to thank the younger man by making dinner, Scout then thanks Medic for dinner by bringing coffee in the morning.

This back and forth continues for a couple weeks before someone finally asks what the hell is happening between them.

If they ask Scout first-

"Hey! Don't look to deep into this! Medic's a nice guy and I'm glad ta' help 'em out! There ain't nothing between us! What does Medic think? W-well I'm sure he thinks the same way, I mean come on, look at the guy! He could get any chick he wants, I don't think he's planning ta' ask Me out."

If they ask Medic first-

"I'm planning to ask him out. It von't be zat big of a change, ve already go on dates togezher. Vat does Scout zhink? Oh he zhinks I only see him as a friend and zhat all we do togezher is entirely platonic. Ja, I know he's not zhe quickest on zhe draw but zhat's fine, if I vanted someone for zhere smarts I'd just make my own lover vis all zhe body parts I have in my fridge... Don't vorry about it."

After getting together they'd be really cute, Medic has Years of medical experience so whenever Scout gets hurt Medic is quick to make everything better, he does get a little panicky because Scout, being a rowdy 25 year old, gets hurt a lot.

Scout has 1 year of anything having to do with medical experience but somehow is much calmer whenever Medic gets hurt, says he's had to deal with scrapes and bruises and children cutting their fingers off and setting fire to barns since he was little so he's not quick to panic unless it's serious.

Dinner dates are a thing, and they are adorable together when they try to 'out-boyfriend' the other.

Scout opens doors.

Medic pays for dinner.

Scout buys Medic Flowers & Chocolate.

Medic buys Scout a limited edition Tom Jones album Signed by Tom Jones himself.

Scout (somehow??) Manages to get the Administrator to raise Medic's funding.

The viciously lovely-dovey cycle continues.

SpyDad hates hates hates this so much, he respects Medic as a teammate and a doctor, but out of everyone on the team, on the Planet, he'd rather his son date literally anyone else.

He will attempt to break them up, once.

But after Medic threatens him with the DNA test he procured that proves him to be Scout's father, Spy stops relatively quick. Medic says that he may voice his concerns as a teammate, but until Scout knows the truth, he can keep his fatherly concerns to himself.

BlueScout/RedMedic? Ridiculous, as if Medic wouldn't get BlueScout on to Red Team faster then you could say "SAXTON HALE!!!" immediately after having some semblance of an interest in the younger man.

Now this last one is completed, because if we are doing the route where Spy is Scout's dad? Then-

Spy/Scout: 0/10. No you know what? -2,000/10

There will be no incest in my good christan ships. I am Disgusted, I am revolted, I dedicate my life to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and this is the thanks I get for it!? No. There is no good coming out of this. Incest is disgusting. I hate all people who write it. No exceptions.

Now the other route, I'm sure you are thinking, "Oh so if we just make it so Spy isn't his dad then you are okay with it?"

No, it still weirds me out.

What I am talking about is-

BlueSpy/BlueScout with RedSpy being BlueScout's Dad: 10/10.

If not for the pairing itself, then for the pure comedic aspect of it.

BlueSpy meeting Scout and being charmed by his energetic nature, Scout meeting BlueSpy and ending up actually liking the man for how cool he is, them spending time together and falling in love.

Scout bringing BlueSpy home to meet his mother-

("Without the mask, Please? Ma's gonna think I'm dating a Bank Robber."

"Well I am no Bank Robber, But I am a thief."

"What?! What did yo- no, don't you dare."

"Because I stole your heart~"

"...Shut the fuck up."

"I love you too, Mon Lapin~")

-and Scout's Ma realizing she and Scout have the same taste in men.

RedSpy finding out through Scout's Ma who exactly their son is dating and absolutely losing his goddamn mind.

He can't confront them about it because then they might ask why the enemy teams Spy is so invested in the Blue Team's relations, and while Scout might let it go, he knows BlueSpy will not.

BlueSpy will not stop until he knows why. And even if BlueSpy doesn't immediately tell Scout, then he'll use the information as the figurative noose around RedSpy's throat so he'll keep his nose out of their relationship.

So RedSpy can only hope Scout's mother see's how bad BlueSpy is for their son and disapproves of the relationship, but until then, he can spend 52% of each match finding and killing the BlueSpy with a confusing vengeance.

Translations for Pyro.

*1: It wasn't our fault!!

*2: DON'T YELL AT HIM!!

*3: THE TURRETS HAVE FLAMETHROWERS NOW SPY!! FLAMETHROWERS!!!

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Relationship Stahl ~ Charlie Conway x Adam Banks

A/N: Hi all, I'm on my Mighty Ducks bullshit, so sorry not sorry. This is just for fun. It's postcanon - could be canon with the show. I don't specifically go against anything. But yeah. Enjoy this fic for a movie that came out over 25 years ago. *Posts fic and runs away*

Summary: Charlie and Adam are idiots. And they finally figure that out thanks to Charlie's pen pal.

Characters/Pairings: Charlie Conway/Adam Banks, Charlie Conway, Adam Banks, Connie Moreau, Guy Germaine, Fulton Reed, Gunnar Stahl

Rating: T

Word Count: 2800

Warnings: Language ( I think that's it)

^True love if I ever saw it ;)

Charlie grinned at his laptop as he fired off his enthusiastic response to the latest email from his pen pal before flipping open his phone. Instead of scrolling through his contacts, he dialed the number he knew by heart.

“I literally just dropped you off,” his best friend laughed when he picked up on the third ring.

“And I couldn’t bear to be without you,” Charlie quipped back.

“What do you want, Charlie?”

Adam’s voice was undeniably fond and it made Charlie’s stomach flutter.

“How do you feel about going to the Wilds game on Saturday?”

“How’d you swing those tickets?”

Charlie shrugged even though Adam couldn’t see him. “I know a guy. So are you in? We can grab drinks with some of the ducks afterwards.”

He could practically hear Adam shaking his head and it made Charlie’s smile widen. He knew what his answer would be.

“Yeah, I’m in. Of course I’m in. I’ll pick you up at 5?”

“Sounds good.”

“Are the other ducks coming?

“I’m gonna see who’s around.”

“Alright. Can’t wait. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Charlie smiled at the question in his voice.

“Of course. I’ll call you after work.”

“Good night, Charlie.”

“Night. Banksy. Text me when you get home, alright?”

“Will do.”

Adam was wearing a Minnesota Wilds Jersey and a pair of tight-fitting jeans, when he knocked on the door of Charlie’s house.

He checked his watch. He was early.

He was always early.

Charlie probably wouldn’t be ready for another half hour, so he was surprised when the door swung open – at least until he saw Casey Conway’s smiling face.

“Adam, honey, how are you?” she cooed as she pulled him inside and into a tight hug.

“I’m great, Mrs. Conway. You’re looking lovely this evening.”

She swatted at him, but he saw her genuine smile. “Always a charmer.”

“How are you? How’s the diner?”

“I’m great. The diner is doing well. Business has really increased since we reopened after the renovations. We still have our regulars, but we’re getting more of a younger crowd too.”

“That’s awesome. And so well deserved.”

Adam could still remember when Charlie had sprinted into their college dorm room talking a mile a minute. He’d gleaned that there was a long lost uncle who’d passed and left his mother a rather large inheritance, and she was going to use that to buy out the diner that she’d been helping run for years.

Charlie had been so excited he’d nearly fell over because he forgot to breathe. Adam had spent the summer helping to paint and decorate the newly renovated diner.

“It’s been way too long since you’ve come over for dinner. Are you free next week?”

“Would Tuesday work?”

“Perfect. That’s my early night. And I’ll make your favorite pot pie.”

Adam grinned at the ceiling as he rocked back on his heels.

“You’re the best, Mrs. C.”

“Well, I won’t hold you up. I’m afraid I’ve already made Charlie late. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“See you then.”

She gave him another quick hug before scurrying out the door.

Adam sighed as he checked his watch.

“Hey, Spazaway. Hurry up or we’re gonna be late!” he yelled up the stairs.

“I’m coming! Relax, cake-eater!”

There were several thumps as Charlie hopped on one foot to get his shoe on and then a slam of his bedroom door, but by the time he made it downstairs he looked perfectly disheveled in a cool way instead of a sloppy way. Classic Charlie. It’d be irritating if it wasn’t so attractive.

“Hey, Banksy. See, 5:15 right on time.”

“I told you I’d pick you up at 5,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but we both know that at this point you tell me you’ll pick me up 30 minutes before we actually have to leave. So technically, I’m 15 minutes early,” Charlie grinned and slung an arm around his shoulder.

Adam huffed but couldn’t argue. Charlie was right. He’d learned a long time ago never to trust Charlie to be punctual, so he had started telling him earlier times in the hope that they’d actually arrive places before the events were over.

“It’s gonna be a great night.”

“Are any of the others coming?”

“Connie, Guy, and Fulton. Everyone else was busy.”

“That’ll be fun,” Adam admitted as he climbed into the car.

Secretly, he’d kind of been hoping that it would just be him and Charlie, but he shoved that thought away. It would be good to go out with some of his oldest friends.

“Yeah. It will.”

The five ducks were happily chatting and catching up, laden down with food as they waited for the game to start.

Guy was the first to notice the name after the national anthem.

“Do you think Stahl is the same one we faced from Iceland?”

“I don’t know,” Adam shrugged. “How common of a name do you think it is?”

“Remember when you had that massive crush on Gunnar, Charlie?” Connie teased before taking a sip of her soda.

“I didn’t have a crush on Gunnar.”

“You so did,” Fulton laughed, nudging. “How many hours did you spend watching tapes of his signature shot?”

“That was research,” Charlie insisted, though his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Yeah, you definitely needed to spend all that time on just Gunnar Stahl and not the rest of Iceland,” Guy faux agreed with an exaggerated wink.

Adam remained quiet. He remembered Charlie’s “not a crush” all too well. He wasn’t proud to admit it, but he’d been jealous at the time.

At first it had been, look at this shot. Or look at this play.

And then after the games it was, he’s so nice and cool. He called me ‘Captain Duck’.

Charlie hadn’t shut up about him until they were on the plane home and he promptly knocked out on Adam’s shoulder. Number ninety-nine didn’t have it in him to be jealous when he got to have a sleeping Charlie Conway on top of him.

Tuning back into the conversation after his quick jaunt down memory lane, Adam realized they were still ribbing Charlie.

“Okay, fine. I might have had a little crush on him. I was young. I was still figuring myself out,” Charlie admitted.

“Figures your first crush would be on a hockey player,” Fulton pointed out.

“Who said he was my first crush?”

Adam swore Charlie’s gaze darted to him, and he felt his cheeks heat up.

“Well you literally never talked about anybody else like that before him,” Guy said.

“Except Banks,” Fulton added.

The three of them looked at Adam and he knew he was bright red. They all knew he’d had a crush on Charlie when they were kids. And that he still sort of had a crush on him. He could kick Fulton right now, and he would have if Charlie wasn’t sitting in between them.

“I still talk about Banksy all the time.”

“I’m right here,” Adam finally managed to grumble.

Charlie grinned and nudged him with his shoulder, before throwing an arm around him.

“Are we really gonna sit here and argue over who I did or did not have a crush on twenty something years ago?”

“Yes.” The other three nodded emphatically.

Charlie rolled his eyes.

“Alright fine. Yes, I had a crush on him. But laugh all you want. You have that crush to thank for these seats,” Charlie reminded them smugly.

“What do you mean?” Adam choked out as the others gasped.

Charlie looked at the four flabbergasted ducks in confusion.

“Gunnar got me the tickets. I thought you guys knew.”

“We didn’t know that,” Guy nearly shouted.

“You kept in touch with him all these years?” Connie asked softly.

Their captain shrugged.

“We were pen pals. And now we email every few weeks.”

Adam’s heart clenched in something that felt a lot like jealousy – a lot like when he was 14. He turned his attention to the game, Stahl was on the ice. Adam couldn’t help but track his movements. It had been years since he moved like that. Another squeeze.

It was going to be a long night.

Charlie noticed the instant Adam went rigid, but he couldn’t understand why. After all, he was the one being teased for a 20 year old crush that only lasted for a minute.

He tried to nudge his best friend and get a response, but Adam’s eyes were glued to the game. That wouldn’t have worried Charlie, but the tight set of his jaw was nothing like his usual relaxed joy at the games. That was one of the reason Charlie had made it a point to go to as many hockey games with Adam as he could. He loved to observe him while he watched the game. But right now, his expression was stony.

When Gunnar managed a hat trick early in the third, Adam abruptly excused himself, saying he needed to go to the bathroom.

“What’s up with Banks?” Fulton voiced Charlie’s question aloud.

Charlie shrugged. “No clue.”

Connie rolled her eyes.

“Boys. He’s jealous.”

“Of what?”

“God, Charlie, are you that oblivious?”

His brow furrowed and he stared at her.

“What are you talking about?”

She huffed and shook her head.

“Nope. If you can’t figure it out after 25 years, you’re on your own.”

Adam was less grumpy, but still pretty sedate when he returned with only a few minutes left to go.

“You alright?” Charlie asked in a low voice as he settled back into his seat.

“Yeah. All good. Long line for the bathroom.”

Charlie didn’t believe him, but shrugged it off as the Wilds managed a late game comeback and beat the Anaheim Mighty Ducks and they were all on their feet cheering.

The five of them waited outside the side exit where the players would come out for Gunnar. The former Iceland captain signed a few autographs before he caught sight of Charlie and waved, flashing him a big smile.

“Good to see you, Captain Duck!” he shouted as he pulled Charlie into a tight hug.

“Good to see you too, Gunnar. Nice playing tonight.”

“Thank you.” Gunnar turned his attention to the rest of the Ducks. “It’s good to see you all too.”

There were various murmurs of agreement, before an awkward silence fell.

“Drinks?” Charlie finally suggested.

“Definitely.”

Drinks helped. Everyone loosened up by the second round. Even Adam, though he was not that talkative. He could see why Charlie would have kept in touch with the Icelander. He really was quite charming.

That did not help.

When Charlie stepped away from the table to get another pitcher, Gunnar slid into his vacated seat. Adam panicked for a moment. Guy and Connie were deep in conversation and Fulton had gone to the bathroom, it was just the two of them.

“You know, Captain Duck still never shuts up about you.”

“Still?” Adam asked, fixated on the word.

“At the Goodwill Games, when we spoke for the first time at the closing ceremony, Charlie wouldn’t stop raving about you. How he’d been worried about you being hurt. He even glared at Sanderson. And in his letters, he always talked about you. In every single one. I think I knew more about how you were doing than I did about him.”

“Sorry?”

Adam had no idea how to respond. Gunnar chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s sweet. I’m glad the two of you have made it this far. You’re a good pair.”

Adam’s jaw dropped and he floundered for an answer.

“Thanks?”

“Thanks what?”

Of course Guy chose that moment to resurface from his conversation.

“For saying I played well back in ’94,” Adam lied unconvincingly.

Charlie’s return halted the conversation, and Adam couldn’t help but think about what Gunnar had said. Why would Charlie be talking about him? Did Gunnar think they were together? Why did Gunnar think they were together?

His head was spinning. And it definitely wasn’t the alcohol. Per usual, it was all Charlie Conway’s fault.

Charlie was playing with the edge of his jersey when Adam pulled up to his house.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” he offered.

“Yeah, sure,” Adam agreed.

“Oh. Okay. Cool.”

Charlie had been expecting him to bail. That was what Adam did when things got tense between them, so his easy agreement caught him off guard.

He pulled two beers from the fridge and took a moment to steel himself before rejoining Adam in the living room.

“It was a great game.”

“Yeah. Ducks were smart when they got Gunnar.”

“Definitely.”

“So, why didn’t you tell any of us that you were still talking to him?”

The former captain tried to gauge Adam’s mood, but he was surprisingly nonchalant.

“I didn’t really think about it. When we were writing actual letters, I’d get one maybe three times a year. So it just never came up. And then we started emailing and it was just something I did. It never seemed like a big deal.”

“So it’s not because you’ve been carrying a torch for him all these years?” Adam asked shyly.

The laughter that bubbled out of Charlie was loud and somewhat alarming.

“Of course not, Banksy. I mean, yes, I had a crush on him. For what seems like five seconds at this point in our lives. He’s just someone I liked to keep in touch with. Another person to talk hockey with. Honestly, I thought we’d last like two letters and then never talk again.”

“Have you seen him before?”

“No. Tonight’s the first time I’ve seen him since we left the games. This isn’t some big torrid affair I’ve been hiding. It’s a pen pal. Who got us tickets to a Wilds game.”

“That was pretty cool.”

“Are we good?”

Adam nodded. “We’re good. Sorry, it was just unexpected.”

“That’s fair. I really thought I had told you guys at some point over the years. Sorry I sprang it on you… unintentionally.”

“No worries.”

It was comfortable for a bit. Charlie put on ESPN and they caught the highlights from the other games that had been played. Somehow he ended up leaning heavily into Adam’s side.

“Was he your first?” He asked as the commentators went over the same play for the third time.

“Was who my first what?” Charlie asked, letting his head loll to the side so he could look at Adam without pulling away.

“Was Gunnar your first crush?”

It came out in a sigh.

“No. He wasn’t.”

“Who was it?”

“Guess.”

“Charlie.”

“I’m serious. Guess. I’ll even give you 5 questions to try and figure it out.”

Charlie wasn’t going to admit it without a fight, and Adam knew it. Curiosity got the better of him.

“Fine. Was your first crush a hockey player?”

“Yes.”

“Someone on our team?”

Charlie nodded, sitting up so he could watch him more closely.

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“Peewees or Goodwill Games?”

“Met him in Peewees. Realized I had a crush on him during the Goodwill Games.”

“Did he go to Eden Hall?”

“Yes. I even roomed with him at one point. That’s five. Time to guess.”

He was certain he’d know now.

“Fulton?” Adam asked innocently.

Charlie hung his head.

“You cannot possibly be this obtuse, Banksy.”

“What? You met him in Peewees, he was with us at the games and at Eden hall and you roomed with him sophomore year.”

“Christ,” he huffed. “It’s you, Banksy. Not Fulton. God, definitely not Fulton. He’s like my brother. It’s you.”

“Me? You had a crush on me?”

“I mean, can you call it a crush if it lasts 25 years?”

Adam’s jaw hit the floor.

“You still have a crush on me?” His voice was small, so much like that 10 year old who’d been forced to leave the Hawks. But there was hope.

Charlie, momentarily panicked before resigning himself to his fate. It had to come out.

“No, Adam. I don’t have a crush on you now.”

His best friend deflated slightly.

“I’m in love with you now. I have been for as long as I can remember. Even if I didn’t realize it. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way –“

“I do. Feel the same way. God, Charlie. I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

“Seriously?”

Adam nodded once, resolutely before Charlie’s lips were on his.

The kiss was quick and hungry and it left them both wanting more.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Charlie demanded in a whisper as he pulled back, touching their foreheads together.

“Why didn’t you?” Adam sniped back.

“Touche. God so much lost time.”

“We didn’t lose anything, Charlie. We were together. That’s never a loss.”

“I love you, Banksy.”

“I love you too, Charlie.”

A/N: Yeah so I love them. I hope you enjoyed this. I stand by my theory that Charlie had a brief infatuation with Gunnar Stahl. Thanks for reading!

[probably-voldemort]

creator tag game

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works! 

tagged by: @pawprinterfanfic @thelittlefanpire

So I decided to just do fics that I posted the first chapter of in 2020 and also they’re not in any particular order and mostly just in reverse chronological order cause that’s just how I roll

1. put your faith in the devil and the deep blue sea

Okay so this was for the Chopped Secret Santa, and I got super into it.  @pawprinterfanfic can tell you that I basically rambled like a million words of plot at her basically as soon as I got the assignment.  It was the middle of the night and I was half asleep and I’m pretty sure it made zero sense but this baby was born!  And then I had to finish all my assignments for my semester before I could start on it so it spent the next couple weeks just accumulating more and more plot and details and then I basically wrote the entire thing in like two days and had to massively tone myself down so it didn’t turn into a giant thing a la darling.

Anyway.  I’m super into this fic and you should go check it out.  Hoping slash planning to do a companion of the fic from Murphy’s POV sometime in the new year so let’s hope I’m coming up on some productivity!

2. time, mystical time (cutting me open then healing me fine)

This one I was kinda nervous with starting out cause I hadn’t written anything for the JATP fandom before but I got really into this fic and the whole Juke ship in general.  Could theoretically write for the fandom again.  I don’t really have anything else to say here except that I’m really proud of this fic!

3. cause i know in the morning you’ll be gone (how am i supposed to carry on?)

Did someone say only fic in the entire Wells Jaha / Echo category?  I am ridiculously proud of this fic you honestly have no idea.  Are Wells and Echo (Wecho?) my new ship?  We just don’t know!  Honestly I got ridiculously into this ship and I have no idea why but I really think y’all should check it out!  Would 100% be into writing more Wecho not gonna lie

4. integrity, faith, and crocodile tears

Just like a classic.  Had the general idea for this sitting in my WIPs for forever and then used the Choose Your Own Adventure round of Chopped to finally have an excuse to write it!  I wrote this six million years ago (aka back in February) but I still really love it

5. to dream about a life (where you’re the shining star)

The Murphamy canonverse Cinderella Camp Rock fic you all never knew you wanted!  This honestly makes the list mostly due to how ridiculous it was just like in general but it was honestly also super fun to write and I think it’s a pretty fun fic in general?  Anyway, I love this fic

[winchester-with-wings]

Pampered Birthday

Dean Winchester x Reader // Patron Benefit Fanfic!

Author's Notes:  Slowly but surely getting back into the writer life! Trying to catch up with season 15 and every time it reignites my love of Sam and Dean! This one is for @abbessolute​

Summary/Request:  Birthday fic with Dean! Again season 15 had a bathtub that inspired this fic. It's fluffy!

Word Count: 1850ish

Wanna get previews, early access and make exclusive requests? Become a Patron! You can follow my Patreon for free too as some stuff becomes public after a while. I’ll be adding a discord server benefit soon too!

Can’t become a patron? please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi (Tips are appreciated!)

Mobile Masterlist  /  Patreon & Commissions Masterlist

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

The velvety bellow of a blues song on vinyl echoes through the halls of the bunker. The place is dim, any lights that are on are giving off a soft, warm glow.

You feel like you’ve gone back in time and in this world of supernatural beings, the chances of that were not zero percent. So your guard is up and you stay quiet as you go deeper into the bunker. You perform a sweep, walking slowly through the library and then to the kitchen. You put your groceries on the table and move on. Sam’s room is empty; he’s out of town, checking in with other hunters. So is yours.

The song changes to something more familiar, classic rock. Something you know belongs here. Those are Dean’s records. It must be coming from Dean’s room. So maybe there’s nothing wrong?

But hadn’t Dean said he was going out for ammo supplies before settling in for a night of making devil’s trap bullets and rock salt shells. He’d invited you help but you’d declined, preferring to take a long bath and read a book.

It was your birthday after all.

Sam had expressed his regrets for not being in town, promising to make it up to you when he returned. But what was Dean’s excuse? Did he even know it was your birthday? Was your life becoming a scarier, sadder version of 16 Candles? Dean definitely qualified as your Jake Ryan. The handsome hunk who didn’t realize you were pining for him. You’re convinced he sees you as a sister rather than a woman. And forgetting your “sibling’s” birthday...it was definitely plausible when you recall that he’d once forgotten to acknowledge Sam’s birthday. Sam never let him live it down either. But you wouldn’t hold it against Dean. You hadn’t exactly broadcast the impending date.

You’re a little more relaxed as you approach Dean’s room. Since you’re all like family, you don’t even bother to knock. The light is off and there’s no one in here.

“Dean?” you say into the dark. There’s no answer. The music continues to play, perhaps even the volume turning down a little. Your guard is back up, you reach for the sheathed knife you always keep on your belt.

You realize that the air feels warmer as you approach the bathroom. It smells like cinnamon. It’s enough of a comforting aroma that your grip on the knife falters. The closer you get to the bathroom, the more confident you are that this is where the sound is coming from. Candle light flickers on the wall before you round the corner and enter the large bathroom.

You stop in your tracks, taking in the sight of the man in a dark gray robe hovering over the bathtub, lighting another candle.

“Dean?”

He curses as the flaming match burns his fingers. “I thought I had a little more time,” he laments as he stands up and turns around. He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and a plain t-shirt underneath the robe. He spreads his arms wide, directly your gaze to look over the room.

“What? What is this? What’s going on?” Dean’s record player is in the corner, a stack of your favorite records beside it. The large bathtub--it’s built to stay in place in the center of the room with two steps to get in and wide ledges on every side--is being filled with steaming hot water, an open bottle of your favorite bubble bath is on one of the edges. There are candles everywhere, enough that most of the lights in the room are off and you can still see.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Dean beams at you.

“Wh-D-Dean, you didn’t have to do this.”

“Ah, but I did. It’s your birthday and this is what you wanted to do tonight right? Take a hot bath and read?” He picks up a book. A romance novel. “I bought this one because the half-naked cowboy on the cover looks like me,” He smirks and you can’t stop yourself from giggling. “I’ve seen you read romance novels before and I know you and Sam love your rom-coms, so I figured I’d follow his example.” You blush at the thought of Dean purchasing the item.

“This is too much.” You fight off the hot tears brimming in your eyes. Dean shrugs.

“I mean, maybe I went a little overboard on the candles. But I’m sure we’ll use them again for something.” It’s only a slight reminder of the world outside of this room where rituals will be performed and the world will need saving. Dean notices the tears forming in your eyes. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I just...Dean, I’m not worth all this. All this effort. It’s just a birthday. We have bigger things to focus on.” Dean gets closer and reaches out for your hands. You still hadn’t let go of the knife on your belt. He looks proud for a second before separating your grip.

“Just because Chuck is a dick and the world is going to shit...doesn’t mean we can’t stop to enjoy the simple things. And honestly surviving another year as a hunter is a big deal. We should really be throwing you a big party,” he chuckles as your eyes widen.

“Oh god, please, no!”

“That’s what I thought.” Dean gives you a soft hug and a kiss on the head. “Now I’m gonna turn around and you’re going to get in that tub.”

“What? With you still in here?” All sadness has melted away, your body filling with warmth and happiness as you truly take in the sight of Dean’s handiwork. He really does care for you.

“Eh, don’t worry, the bubbles will cover you up...unfortunately.” He winks at you before turning around. Dean mumbles along to the music playing while you do as instructed. You double check that he isn’t looking before shedding your clothes and undergarments. All the while you’re thinking to yourself, what the hell am I thinking!? Getting naked in the same room as Dean Winchester?

You sink slowly into the water, it’s almost too hot--which means it’s actually just right. You manipulate the bubbles and even add some more to make sure you’re covered before letting him turn back around.

“Okay, I’m in.”

“Good. Now scoot forward.”

“What?!” Dean shirks off his robe and rolls up his pajama pants until his knees are revealed. His legs have a slight tan to them like his shoulders and arms. It has you imagining him in board shorts on a beach chair with suntan oil. It’s enough to have you distracted as he comes up behind the tub and starts climbing in, framing your shoulders with his legs as he sits on the edge.

“Now lean back.” You follow the instruction but he takes the opportunity to unsettle you and dunk you underwater. You come up sputtering and wiping the soapy water from your face.

“What the hell?”

“M’gonna wash your hair. So stop squirming,” Dean laughs, squeezing your shampoo into his hands. He must’ve stolen that from your private bathroom.

“Are you serious?”

“Shh and just let it happen. Sam will never believe you if you tell him I did this so enjoy it while it lasts,” he grumbles. You look up as he starts to card his fingers through your hair. He’s focusing on his technique it would seem, but he’s smiling at you watching him. His fingers feel amazing as they massage the soap into your scalp. You let out a small moan, sinking lower into the water. You wrap one of your arms around Dean’s leg to anchor you. “Am I doing it right?” he says softly, though the smirk can be heard plainly in his voice.

“Mm-hm…”

Dean dips a cup into the water and leans your head back. He curves one of his hands over your forehead to protect your eyes as he pours the water over your head and down your back. He does it a second time and then grabs a washcloth to rub over your shoulders. He dips it into the water and runs the fabric down your back. It’s intimate and perhaps even a little hesitant. But you lean forward, accepting the gesture and releasing another sigh.

“Is there anything else that would make this a good birthday? There’s pie in the fridge?”

“No, Dean. This...this is amazing.” You half-turn around in the tub, exposing your collarbone and maybe just a hint of the top of your breasts. “It’s more that I ever could’ve asked for.” You rest a hand on his knee. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Of course. We’re not done fighting but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t seize every moment, right?”

The idea is more sentimental that you’d expect from Dean, but then again you’d never expect this handsome man to be leaning forward right now. His hand, warm from the water, cups your face and turns it up towards him.

He presses his lips to yours, soft and tentative. When he feels your lips pucker to meet his, he kisses you again, your mouths lining up like they’re puzzle pieces, meant for each other. He ignores any straining in his back from leaning forward until it’s too late. You hear an odd noise as Dean’s foot suddenly loses its grip on the bottom of the tub and he slips into tub alongside you.

“Sonuva…!” he hisses, searching for something to grab hold of but it’s too late. Water sloshes over the sides as you scoot back to the other end of the tub. It’s big enough to accommodate the second body but I’m sure Dean isn’t thinking about that. Although you can’t help but remember that you’re naked and he’s...not. His shirt and pants are completely submerged with him and bubbles are now resting on the tip of his nose.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” you giggle and reach out wipe the bubbles away. He’s cross-eyed for a moment as he watches you do it. He sighs and starts to strip off the wet fabric of his shirt. It’s heavy as he throws it across the room and lands on the ground with a splat! His sun-kissed and freckled shoulders move up and down as his hands work under the water. “W-what are you doing?”

His pajama pants emerge from the water and he throws them in the same direction of his other shirt.

“Taking a bath apparently.” He pauses to dip his own head under the water. You’re mesmerized by the water droplets that stay on his lashes when he comes back up. “But don’t worry, the underwear is staying on. Now, c’mere,” Dean reaches out for you. 

He grabs your wrist and pulls you across the tub, laying your naked frame on top of his. The bubbles still hide what’s underneath and one of his arms coils around your waist, the other cradles your head as he pulls your in for another kiss. With your lips parted and his tongue delving into your mouth, it’s far from a chaste kiss.

[missfeisty199]

Put Your Lips Next To Mine, Angel

(Short Friendlypack Fic)

Summary: Jimmy hears a couple of old, forgotten songs while with Stan one evening.

Content Warnings: None...just a bunch of fluff.

Author’s Note: The songs played in this short fic are “Put Your Head On My Shoulder” by Paul Anka and “Angel Baby” by Rosie & The Originals. You can listen to them while reading this if you’d like :) 

This is also a short story while I think more about my next lengthy nsfw Friendlypack fic.

The faintest memories Jimmy has from his early childhood were the mornings where he would wake up and hear music in the family living room.

His little feet would lazily walk him into the room where his mother and father would be dancing together in a slow manner. Their bodies would be encircled in a sluggish loop, not really taking any steps. Still, the man and woman seemed very much happy this way.

It was, as it turned out, to be the only time Jimmy’s parents were so in love with each other. When they were dancing so closely with one another, listening to the words of Elvis Presley, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, and many others, there was happiness. No yelling, no throwing punches, no throwing dishes or vases, no crying, nothing. Only love for once.

Other memories from his childhood were when Jimmy would be riding in his father’s old muscle car on Saturday nights, the radio blasting those same songs from those same musicians. Jimmy never really knew what these songs were talking about, too young to understand obviously. He just found the way they sounded to be cool. He liked to hear the guitar riffs, the drums, the pianos, and the vocals. All of these made the late car rides special to young Jimothy Bending. They even helped him fall asleep in the back seat, the passing street lights always being the last images he would see before his eyes became much too heavy to stay open.

It took Jimmy several years after such nostalgic days, many years after his father had left the picture one day, to realize that the songs were actually aged. The music was even older than his own parents. They were the songs and musicians of his grandparents’ age, of the 1950s and 1960s. Jimmy never knew what ended up happening with his father after he walked out of his life, and he rarely spoke with his own mother after she kicked her then 18-year-old son out of the house. He did know that such songs and dancing stopped after his dad was gone, so he figured it was that son of a bitch who loved that kind of music.

Despite all that had happened, though, Jimmy still liked that genre of music. He even extended his ear to later songs from the 1970s and so on, becoming a lover of all kinds of genres and eras of music. Living in Los Santos, on the other hand, he felt that people in the city at this time and age did not appreciate such music. Nobody talked about or listened to “old people” songs, especially those that their grandparents grew up with. Los Santos is where everything new and trendy is happening, and the music of Los Santos was loud rap.

So that was what Jimmy started listening to nowadays, and it eventually became the only type of music he listened to.

Jimmy and Stan were parked on stable enough ground at the top of the Vinewood sign hill. They laid on the hood of Jimmy’s Camaro car, and they were currently looking down over the night lights of the Los Santos city. The men were relaxed as they spoke about the day's events. There was their oxy delivery runs, the car having to be repaired due to Jimmy’s negligent steering, as usual, a quick in-and-out at the Pillbox hospital, and the short-lived house robbery before they had ended up at this hill to have a change of pace.

After conversing, the two were quiet for a while. The only sounds being heard were of the crickets all around them, the distant cars from down below on the roads, and the booming rap music playing from Jimmy’s car radio. It was all they had been listening to for most of the day, and Jimmy was starting to grow tired of hearing it any longer. He gradually sat up and excused himself to switch up the radio station, dismissing Stan’s remark that there maybe could be a station all about banjo duets or whatever music the older man use to enjoy in Indianapolis.

Jimmy sat in the driver’s seat, careful not to accidentally make contact with the joystick or engine controls that would send the car flying down the high hill. He was continuously pressing the arrows on the radio panel in search of a good station, something that was not hip hop or rap music for once. There was a station that was playing pop music, but not even Jimmy wished to hear that garbage.

He lost count of how many times he had pressed the arrow dial until he reached a station that made Jimmy pause the constant skipping. He stared down at the name of the radio station, along with hearing the music that was spilling out of the speaker of the car. The station was called Rock & Roll Hits of the Golden Years; it was a classic rock & roll station that played old school music.

The type of music that his father would always listen to. The type of music that Jimmy used to listen to. The type that brought him back to all those distant, long faded years.

As if this was not enough, it was also the song currently playing that struck Jimmy. It was “Put Your Head On My Shoulder” by Paul Anka. Jimmy listened to the lyrics, making the reminiscing all the more effective.

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me in your arms, baby

Squeeze me oh so tight

Show me that you love me too

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won’t you kiss me once, baby

Just a kiss goodnight

Maybe you and I will fall in love

This exact song was one of the many his parents would slow dance to sometimes, this much he distinctly remembered. He recalled his mother’s small and gentle face resting on Jimmy’s father’s shoulder like the song said for her to do. In return, his father would kiss his mother’s hair as they would continue to sway, even running his fingers gently through the long brown strands.

The remembering almost brought tears to Jimmy’s eyes. He was trying to fight them back because he knew that if one tear fell he would not be able to stop the rest of them from falling.

However, once the song had finished and the next one started, all of his efforts were lost.

The song that replaced Paul Anka was “Angel Baby” by Rosie & The Originals. This was another song his parents would slow dance to, and if Jimmy remembered correctly, it was also one that would lull him to sleep all those Saturday night drives long ago. Before Jimmy knew what was happening, tears were sliding down his cheeks faster than he could comprehend, and he was reduced to a sniffling mess.

The last thing Jimmy wanted was for Stan to see him like this, but this too was lost.

“Jimmy?” he heard Stan softly whisper. “A-are you okay?” Jimmy’s eyes were blocked by thick tears that he had not noticed that Stan had left his place on the car hood and was now standing next to the driver side door.

“Y-yeah. I-I’m a-alright,” Jimmy said as he took off his sunglasses and wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket.

Stan was not convinced, but he nodded. “Ya know, my folks loved this song. It was their favorite. I think it was even their wedding song.”

If this was Stan’s way of comforting Jimmy, it certainly did not help. It only made Jimmy sob some more, which alarmed Stan.

“O-oh I...I uh...I-I’m sorry, Friendly J! I-I didn’t mean to...to make this w-worse!”

“It’s...it’s okay, Stan. I know...you didn’t mean to.” Jimmy had composed himself enough to stop the waterworks. He looked up at Stan and gave a faint smile. “This song was my folks’ favorite too. They used to always dance to it.”

“O-oh. Well then, t-that must have been quite nice to see.”

“Yeah, it was,” Jimmy chuckled.

They were back to being quiet for a moment while the song played out.

Jimmy wished to just listen to it for the nostalgia factor, but then an idea formed in his head. If he wanted to do it, he had better act fast. Jimmy looked back up at Stan as he steadily got out of the car, and then he put out his hand to him.

Stan stared down at Jimmy’s palm puzzlingly. “What? You want me to hand you some gas money? Didn’t you just fill up the tank before we got here?”

“I’m not asking for cash, Stan.”

“Then what, Jimmy?”

Rather than wasting precious time waiting for Stan to understand it all, Jimmy rolled his eyes as he took Stan’s hand and walked them around to the front of the car where the city lights could easily be seen. He raised the hand he held with Stan up a tad bit while his other hand intertwined with Stan’s free one. Jimmy brought their bodies closer together and he stared into the clear blue hue of Stan’s eyes, smiling at the blond. It was then that Stan blushed a beet red as he smiled back, getting it now.

“Just don’t step on my feet,” Jimmy remarked as he started them on a slow side-to-side movement.

“I-I’ll t-try not t-to,” Stan bashfully stuttered. He really was careful to not mess up as he followed Jimmy’s lead.

The movement was awkward at first, as the two were obviously not ones to have ever slow danced with anyone before. They then began to adopt a slow swaying rhythm as they circled around in a constant loop, much like Jimmy had remembered. They focused on their footing and each other as the song continued to play out, the lyrics becoming a serenade for the cherished moment.

Please, never leave me blue and alone

If you ever go, I’m sure you’ll come back home

Because I love you, I love you, I do

Angel baby, my angel baby

It’s just like Heaven being here with you dear

I could never stay away without you near

Because I love you, I love you, I do

Angel baby, my angel baby

The soft, sweet singing from the songstress and her lyrics, along with the way they were dancing, could have easily reduced Jimmy to tears again. Except it was not that case anymore.

He was not saddened by memories anymore.

This moment right here was to be a new memory, one that would make Jimmy happy to remember any time.

[missjosie27]

Ethren, Merula, Talbott!

Hmm, I definitely expected Ethren and Meru to be in there but Talbott is interesting. Here goes nothing.

Ethren

First Impression: Someone who overburdened himself, had little patience for bullshit, who’s stoicism was matched by no one. 

Impression Now: A sad sort of character. Tragic. Not in a bad way of course, but I almost feel Ethren never truly got to enjoy the best life could offer given his curse, his situation with Merula, and of course his untimely death. I admire the hell out of him. To me he is incredibly brave, passionate, and willing to sacrifice his well being for others.

Favorite Moment: The part where he’s so unbelievably deriding and sarcastic to Trelawney she can’t even tell Ethren is mocking her. That was one of his funniest moments hah.

Idea for a Story: You and I have actually discussed a couple of these but I’ll reiterate them on here anyway. I want to somehow transport David to Ethren’s world just after the Battle of Hogwarts so he can see just how fortunate he was to make it out alive and with his wife (Merula) out of jail. I would like to see him pay homage and honor Ethren at his grave.

Unpopular Opinion: Ha, oh boy. You’re one of my favorite writers/artists so I can’t think of much to criticize. I guess the only thing that occasionally irked me about Ethren was his lack of fortitude when it came to Merula. He got pushed around too easily a lot of the time, which was very un-Ethren like.

Favorite Relationship: I just gave you grief over Ethren’s relationship with Merula haha but nonetheless I still love those two together. There’s no one else he’d rather be with. The two are permanently linked.

Favorite Headcanon: Since Ethren is American I imagine him being quite prideful about that. So whenever a Brit calls him a ‘yank’ or insults his heritgae he goes full Bruce Springsteen ‘Born in the USA’ on them.

Merula

First Impression: Unlike some on here, I was not infatuated with Merula from the get go. As a matter of fact I hated her and wanted to take every opportunity to crush her in the game.

Impression Now: Full head over heels in love <3 That wouldn’t have happened without JC giving her their weird version of a character arc (which in classic fashion have already screwed up). But I’m an absolute sucker for bad/gothic/villainous girls who eventually turn good and let’s face it, given her background she already has more depth than most Slytherins in the actual books lol.

Favorite Moment: You can’t beat the Yule Ball where you dance together and she’s in that amazing dress and satin gloves. It’s a winner every time. Close second is when she reveals to us why she is the way she is before you go into the vault. It’s very touching.

Idea for a Story: The one I’m currently writing lol. In all seriousness, I do want to build off the commission you did for me and write a little fic featuring Dave taking her to a Motley Crue concert post graduation as a present. 

Unpopular Opinion: This one is definitely not going to jive with some, but’s just a headcanon. I think she’s straight lol. Some have her as gay or bi which is fine but she reminds me of a tomboy I knew that wasn’t all feminine in attitude but was very much into boys and men. Just gives off that kind of vibe to me.

Favorite Relationship: I’m biased. I like her with David of course haha. But @unoriginal2tall @brothergrimm71 @zuulosdovah @mikecaudron @weirdcursedvaultkid and @son-of-aurlius-piscius all have great relationships with her with their own MC’s. And of course, Ethren Whitecross.

Favorite Headcanon: I have a few xD I have it that she secretly loves muggle rock and roll music, likes to rip holes in her tights on purpose, and has a sweet tooth.

Talbott

First Impression: Pretty neutral. Though to be honest, I wasn’t sure what he was going to add to the game other than having an excuse help us become an animagus.

Impression Now: I definitely understand why so many people ship their MCs with him now. He’s got that dark, loner, mysterious vibe which a lot of girls (and boys) find highly appealing. In a game with a lot of big personalities, he’s actually refreshing by being low key. Has a pretty good sense of humor too.

Favorite Moment: I liked it when he fucked with Mrs. Norris in his eagle form haha

Idea for a Story: He and Badeea taking a last stand at the Battle of Hogwarts, holding off several Death Eaters while protecting muggle born students.

Unpopular Opinion: As popular as he is, Talbott would be a tough nut to crack when it comes to dating. Someone who’s gone through the kind of trauma he has would be terrified of letting anyone in much less be willing to share a bed.

Favorite Relationship: You can pretty much pair Talbott with any MC but I like him personally with Badeea or Chiara. Something about those two in particular seem to fit.

Favorite Headcanon: As an eagle he likes to shit on Filch when the old caretaker isn’t looking xD

[wndamaximov]

The New Recruit

Marvel Monday

Pairing - Peter x  Shuri x Reader

Summary - Y/n is new to the Avengers, and is finding it hard to connect with people over twice her age.

Warnings - Mild language

Words - 1,159

A/n - This is my first Marvel Monday fic so, enjoy!

Beta’d by the amazing @13doctors1angel

Peter trudged up the steps to his apartment. It had been an extremely crappy day. Flash was even more annoying than usual, and Peter was super close to using his super strength on him.

“I’m ho-” To his surprise, Peter was greeted with two faces smiling up at him instead of one. “Mr. Stark? What are you doing here?”

“I’ve got a mission for you kid. Just clearing it up with Aunt May here.” Peter looked at May in surprise. Ever since she had found out about Spider-man, she had been determined to prevent him from going out to fight crime.

“Mr. Stark, I think he’ll be good for this one. Just make sure he’s back before Monday.”

“Great.” Tony stood up. “C’mon Underoos. Pack your things. We’re going to the Avengers compound.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Shuri was doing inventory in her lab. A job she hated, but unfortunately, it was necessary. Thankfully, a couple of hours in, she felt her Kimoyo beads trill. Any excuse to step away from the grueling work was welcome. Her savior was T’challa.

“Brother, thank you so much!” She smiled at her older brother, and he instantly knew what day it was.

“What, inventory time again?”

“Why else would I be happy for you interrupting me in my lab? Is there something wrong with the suit?”

“No. The Avengers need you.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The first thing Peter noticed were the various injuries Mr. Stark had. “Uh, Mr. Stark, no offense, but, where’d you get the, you know?” he asked, gesturing towards Tony’s bruised face.

Tony chuckled nervously. “Well, it’s kind of a long story. Basically, there were a bunch of rumours that there was illegal human experimentation going on in Kashmir. The Indian government decided to send in the Avengers instead of risking normal soldiers just in case it was true.”

“And was it?”

“Yeah, no shit. We didn’t figure out who sanctioned them, though. What we did figure out is that only one person was experimented on, and that she’s extremely powerful. None of us could take her, and if you think my wounds are bad, you should see the others, especially Thor. None of us could pin her down, so Loki had to use his mind tricks to subdue her.”

Peter was still confused. “So, why do you need me?”

“Because this girl is 17 years old. Y/n y/l/n. We think she’ll open up to people her own age. The ones who got closest to speaking to her were Barnes and Reindeer Games.”

“Doesn’t she want to kill us? You said she put up a fight.”

“She thought we were a test by her captors,” Tony explained. “She calmed down after Barnes explained who we were. We want to help her, but she’s still not comfortable with us, so hence bringing you and the princess in.”

“Oh. Wait, I��m sorry, did you say princess?”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

“What am I supposed to talk to this girl about?”

“You know, mee-mees, and stuff. Just connect with her, you know?”

Shuri burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, did you just call memes, mee-mees?”

“Whatever.” T’challa rolled his eyes, “Just don’t scare her.”

“Can I ask, what are her powers?”

T’challa lifted his shirt up enough to reveal the burns he had gotten from the fight in Kashmir. Shuri’s eyes widened. “She can produce fire?”

T’challa nodded.

“You want me to help this girl? What if she kills us?”

“She was confused. Y/n’s been captive her entire life. She thought we were going to hurt, or even kill her. Do you really blame her?”

“No, not really. Now, take me to this girl.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Just as the limo Peter and Tony were in pulled up to the compound, the Wakandan jet switched off its cloaking mechanism.

“Holy shit!”

“Language,” Tony chided, then looked up in horror. “Oh my god, I’m becoming like Cap.”

Peter ran out of the car to get a closer look at the aircraft. Just then, T’challa and Shuri came out from the gangway.

“Mr. Black Panther sir! Can I just say, it is an honor to see you again.” He was about to bow, then stopped with a disapproving look from Tony.

Tony mouthed, “They don’t do that.”

T’challa glanced at Peter. “You must be the spider boy. This is my sister Shuri. You two are going to be working together to help y/n.”

“Spider- Spiderman actually,” Peter corrected.

Shuri found the whole encounter extremely hilarious, and decided to play with the Parker boy.

“Road work?” she asked, pointing at the sign a couple feet away from the lane that lead up to the compound.

“Yeah, the place isn’t fully ready yet-”

Peter interrupted Tony with, “I sure hope it does.”

Shuri put her arm around Peter and declared, “Spider-man, you are my new best friend. Bye T’challa! Now, tell me how your webbing works.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Y/n was sitting in Bucky’s room, listening to music on the phone that Tony gave her. She figured out her taste in music pretty quick. It mirrored Tony’s- AC/DC and Styx were her favorites out of all the classic rock bands she had listened to.

There was a knock at the door. It was Bucky.

“Hey y/n, you have visitors. Do you want to see them?” She opened the door and nodded. She hated speaking English. She had an accent and sometimes got the words mixed up. It’s why she kept the speaking to a minimum.

“C’mon. They’re in the main living room.” She followed the White Wolf, hiding behind his back.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

“Hey guys, this is y/n.” Bucky gently coaxed her out from behind him. “Y/n, this is Peter, and that’s Shuri. And you’ve already met T’challa. He was the one in the cat suit.”

Shuri gasped, enraged. “Did you just call my state of the art vibranium armor a cat suit?” Y/n looked at her in surprise. She had an accent too.

“You are not American?” she asked timidly, cringing slightly at her Indian accent.

The girl named Shuri looked at her offended. “Of course, I’m not a colonizer! I’m from Wakanda.” She smiled at the Wakandan, deciding that she liked her.

“And you?” she asked, pointing to Peter. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Queens. Does that make me a colonizer?” Peter wondered out loud.

Shuri answered, “Yes. Now, if you pronounce meme as mee-mee, please leave the room. I would like to talk to my new friends.”

As the adults left the room, Tony called, “Behave!” behind him.

“Are we going to listen to him?” Shuri asked.

“Of course not,” y/n replied, “I have been required to listen to my elders for 17 years. I think I deserve to step out of the box a little bit.”

Peter smiled a little at y/n’s attempt at saying the phrase.

She noticed and asked, “I said it wrong didn’t I?”

“Just a little. It’s step out of line, but I like yours better.”

“Now, who’s ready to have a little fun?”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Next Chapter >>

[thislassishooked]

How to Carve a Pumpkin (Not Yourself)

Well, I did it, I finished my Halloween fic. This is based on a prompt given to me by the lovely @hollyethecurious

Please excuse anything that looks weird, this was my first time using the keep reading and it kept giving me grief. This is unbetad because I literally just finished it. All mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy!

Tagging some of my other dear friends that might get a kick out of it. @ilovemesomekillianjones @winterbaby89 @xemmaloveskillianx @kmomof4 @kymbersmith-90 @snowbellewells

Rated G (But I may be persuaded to add an M rated sepual since I loves these characters so much)

4200 words

Emma slipped her arms through her jacket sleeves, flipping her hair out from under her collar. She tried to keep the sigh from her lips as her sister-in-law knocked on her door.

 “Just give it a chance, mom,” Henry encouraged from the couch,  “you really need to improve your carving skills. It’s a little embarrassing to have a triangle eye and nose with crooked teeth pumpkin glowing on our front porch every year.”

“Hey, it’s a classic. I recall you creating that same masterpiece not too long ago,” she quipped while ruffling his hair.

“Yeah, like six years ago.”

“Is your homework done?” He nodded. “You get another thirty minutes on the Xbox, then get yourself ready for bed.”

“I got it mom, Mary-Margaret is waiting.”

“Okay, kid, be good for Elsa.” She leaned in to place a kiss on the top of his head and hollered a quick goodbye to Elsa.

“Have fun!” Elsa yelled back from the kitchen.

Mary Margaret’s gleaming smile met her on the other side. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be for a pumpkin carving master class,” Emma replied sarcastically.

“Just you wait. The instructor just moved to town and is a four time Master Pumpkin Carver,” she spoke as the bounced down the steps.

“And that means… what exactly?”

“Don’t you ever watch the Travel Channel?” Emma gave her a guilty shrug. “It means he’s the best in the country. Last year he won with one that perfectly resembled that rock troll leader.” Emma sighed in defeat. “Plus, he just bought and renovated that old used bookstore on Main that I know you loved as a kid.” That did spark some interest in Emma, but she sensed there was more. “And… he’s single,” she sing songed. There it was. The reason she’s learning how to carve a pumpkin at twenty eight years old. Mary Margaret wants to play matchmaker.

“How on earth could you know that?” Emma asked while struggling to find her seatbelt buckle.

“David’s been helping him with some of the restoration. He loves to get his hands dirty so he’s been going in after hours to help get the place ready to the grand re-opening.”

“And does said master pumpkin carver have a name?”

“Killian Jones. He’s originally from Ireland.”

Fantastic, Mary Margaret wants to set her up with a good looking, (I assume he’s good looking), single, master pumpkin carver, hard working, Irishman. What could possibly go wrong?

They arrived at Storybrooke High with only minutes to spare. Apparently Mr. Jones agreed to teach in one of the art rooms and he was doing it for scraps. A mere $10 fee to pay for your pumpkin and carving supplies. Just who was this guy?

Emma and Mary Margaret settled on a set of desks near the back with Belle and Ariel joining them shortly thereafter. Emma was surprised to see August there, but if there was a potentially handsome, single man within a ten mile radius of their small town, August would be there. The man had been on more dates in the last year than Emma had in her life.

“So what do you plan to carve?” Belle asked her after they had settled.

“I don’t know, I just figured he’d give us an example and I’d copy that,” Emma answered with disinterest.

“Oh, you were supposed to bring an image for inspiration, did I not mention that?” Mary Margaret asked innocently.

Emma turned to her sneaky sister-in-law. “No, I believe that was not something you shared with me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry, I’m sure Killian can help you with that.”

At every desk, a pre-selected pumpkin had been placed. Emma studied hers, noticing how perfect the dimensions were. It was as if she had sat down at the only perfect pumpkin in the whole room. Belle’s had some weird warts, Ariel’s was flat in the front, Mary Margaret’s was too large, but Emma’s was… perfect. It didn’t seem fair since she had no intention of carving out any sort of masterpiece.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” an accented voice said from the doorway. “I’ll be your host for the night, does everyone have a pumpkin?” A slew of yes’s answered the man who owned the not at all sexy voice of whom she had yet to see. “Excellent, I’m Killian Jones, lets get started with the basics, shall we?” Emma finally spotted the source of the accent and damn, if he wasn’t the epitome of tall, dark and handsome.

“Isn’t he delicious?” Ariel whispered into Emma’s ear.

“Airel,” Emma admonished, “you’re married!”

“Very happily married, but it doesn’t mean I can’t acknowledge a hotty when I see ‘em,” she teased.

“I have to agree with Ariel, that man is a ten on the hotness scale,” Belle added.

Emma looked to Mary Margaret expecting her to reprimand their friends because if there was anyone on the planet that was more devoted to her husband than Ariel, it was Mary Margaret. But all she found was a slightly guilty grimace.

“He is… pretty cute Emma.”

Emma was stunned. Although she agreed with her friends that his dark, ruffled hair that swooped just above his ocean blue eyes and his days old scruff that peppered the lower half of his very handsome face gave him an above average grade in the “hotness scale” as Belle had put it, she was above superficially rating a person. He could turn out to be a total asshole.

“You should all have the tools you’ll need for tonight,” he continued. “A carving knife and a large scoop. Be sure to cut a large enough hole around the stem or you’ll have a hell of a time scooping out the guts. Always remember to keep your knife at an inward angle so the top will have some support when you replace it.”

That seemed simple enough. Emma got to work, every once in a while sneaking a peek at the admittedly handsome instructor as he circulated the room every so often when he took a break from his own carving up front.

__________

Killian had taught many carving classes over the years, but had recently grown weary of the menial job. There was more to his life than a silly tradition of carving a squash in the days leading up to Halloween. It didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy carving his own creation in the comfort of his home, but the “glamour” of being a carving master had spread like wildfire through the small New England town. He had inadvertently become a local celebrity.

When Dave had asked him to host a class because his very sweet wife Mary Margaret had expressed interest, who also happens to be an excellent cook, he could not deny the woman her wishes. David’s help in restoring the old used book store had been pivotal in his dream of settling down in a cozy town by the sea and living as normal of a life as he could. Of course he had come to consider both David and Mary Margaret as dear friends. This class was purely a favor to his friend for all the free labor David had offered when he first found out that Killian had purchased the building. Apparently, the store had been a favorite of David’s sister when she was growing up and he wanted to help restore it to its former glory for her. Killian would have been a fool to refuse the help because David really knew what he was doing. The place was almost ready for its grand re-opening after only three months of back breaking work.

Killian spotted the object of David’s affection not long into his first circulation and approached her with a wide, genuine grin. As he got closer, his eyes averted to the beautiful blonde beside her, clearly struggling with carving the top off her pumpkin. Her tongue stuck out on the side of her mouth to indicate she was concentrating very hard on the task.

“Killian!” Mary Margaret squealed, using her hands to pull his full attention to them. He didn’t need Mary Margaret’s over exuberance to lead him in her direction. The gorgeous woman to her right was doing a fine job of it.

“Good evening, Mary Margaret,” he greeted with a flourished bow and a side eye on her friend.

“Oh,” Mary Margaret caught on very quickly, “this is Emma, David’s sister, well adopted sister, but that’s not really important,” Mary Margaret rushed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Emma…” he knew she had a different last name than David, but wanted to hear it from her lips.

“Swan,” she supplied briskly, not meeting his eyes.

“Swan,” he replied in his most seductive voice. This apparently caused her to meet his gaze. He was instantly mesmerized by her emerald gems. There was something about Emma Swan that left him speechless, and according to everyone he had ever known, he was never for lack of words.

She broke the trance as a pained cry left her mouth. He looked down only to realize that she had cut herself with the carving knife.

_________

Emma had done some stupid things in her life, but cutting her hand because she couldn’t take her eyes off of a relative stranger was high on the list. Her pumpkin was covered in blood and Mary Margaret had started to panic, but Killian flew into action. He grabbed a flask from his bag and raced back to her.

“For some reason we don’t have a first aid kit in the classroom, but I’ve got the next best thing. Give me your hand love.”

“It’s fine,” Emma protested.

“No, it’s not, you’re hurt,” he stated with concern.

Emma offered him her hand which she came to regret when he popped the top of his flask off with his teeth and poured it over her open wound.

“Ah, ah, what the hell is that?” she yelped.

“It’s rum, the closest thing we have to an antiseptic. The burning will settle soon enough,” he said with sincerity. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, Emma, but for now we must stop the bleeding.” He then proceeded to unwrap his scarf from his neck and secure it around her hand instead. His left hand was covered in “pumpkin guts” as he had clarified, so he used his goddamn gorgeous mouth to secure the scarf in place, pulling it tight with his teeth and the whole time never taking his eyes off of hers. Emma was transfixed as he stared into her eyes longer than necessary. She only broke the trance once she realized that the whole class and her sister-in-law were silently watching them. It seemed to bring Kilian back to reality as well. He practically lept from her side and resumed his duties.

It was only near the end of class the he approached her one last time. “How does the hand feel?”

“It’s fine, doesn’t even throb. You can have your scarf back,” Emma offered with an outstretched hand.

“You should probably keep it on for another few hours. What I really wanted to know is, what is your plan for your carving? Everyone else brought a picture of their ideal carving, but you seem to have none.”

“That’s because I don’t,” she stated emphatically.

He knelt down again so he was eye level with her. “What are you passionate about, Emma?”

Emma was taken aback by his rather forward inquiry. She knew that he was only trying to help inspire a stupid idea for a stupid carving that she absolutely had no investment in, but something told her that it meant more. She closed her eyes and the only image that popped up in her head was Henry.

“My son,” she answered with a smile.

Killian nodded his head in understanding. “And what is your son passionate about?”

Emma found her eyes had landed on his again. The sincerity in them burning into her very soul. She only had to think about her answer for a matter of seconds because her son was very transparent.

“At the moment, dinosaurs,” she answered on a laugh. Killian laughed along with her.

“That is very typical of an eight… ten year old?” Killian guessed.

“Ten,” Emma affirmed.

“Tomorrow night I will have what you need to create a dinosaur masterpiece that your boy will love.”

Emma had no words. This man that she had just met expressed a sincere intention to please her son, a boy he had never met, a boy he owed nothing to.

“Will you come by the bookstore tomorrow, love?” The endearment threw her off, but she quickly realized that it was probably a force of habit from growing up in Ireland. “I would like to discuss the details of your son’s passion.”

“Henry,” she said, even surprising herself. She never talked about her son with men.

“Alright then,” Killian said with an adorable lopsided smile, “Henry’s passion.”

“I thought the bookstore wasn’t open yet,” she asked on a whisper.

“For you, love, it is open anytime.” That statement had thrown Emma for a loop. He had said it with such yearning that her body shook, a sensation she hadn’t experienced in some time.

“If I have the time, perhaps I’ll stop by,” she said nonchalantly. That, of course, caused a huge grin to break out across Killian’s face.

“I look forward to it,” was the last thing he said to her before instructing the class to start cleaning up for the night.

Emma stood outside the little shop that she loved so much as a kid. She had debated going all day, but with Henry spending the evening at a friend’s house, she couldn’t think of any excuse not to show up. She knew he was there because the lights were on. The carving class didn’t start for another two hours so she steeled her nerves and knocked on the old fashioned french doors. They were newly painted and looked as good as she remembered.

Her hand was now wrapped in an ace bandage and Killian’s scarf freshly washed. She had managed to get the bloodstain out, but was remiss to return it to him. She heard footsteps approaching and waited on bated breath as he unlocked and opened the door. He was just as gorgeous as she remembered, his dark hair slick from having been recently washed. His spicy scent assaulted her senses and for a moment, she was struck speechless. His face lit up when their eyes met and she was shaken by the desire to pull his lips to hers and find out if he tasted as good as he looked.

“Swan, a pleasure, as always.”

“As always? We’ve only just met,” she teased.

“Aye, but I am sure that every time you grace my presence in the future will be a pleasure,” he said, taking her hand in his and placing a feather light kiss just above her knuckles. Emma’s breath was momentarily lost at the old fashioned gesture. “Please, come in. I have several ideas put together for Henry’s surprise pumpkin.” Her heart swelled at the thought that he had remembered her son’s name.

Upon entering the old store she was overwhelmed by the smell of old books. The musky scent that comes from a well used book has always been a favorite of hers. He had even kept the name she always found cleaver. The Books of Yesterday. It was an appropriate name considering just about all of the inventory was older than her.

“Would you like something to drink, love?” Emma couldn’t help blush at the familiar endearment.

“Um, do you have any cocoa?”

“Of course, with whipped cream and cinnamon, yes?” Emma’s mouth fell open. She was sure she never mentioned that to him before. “Your brother often spoke of you during the renovation and he mentioned that was your favorite beverage,” he clarified. He scratched a spot just behind his right ear, a gesture that she found adorable, then turned to retrieve said cocoa.

Emma took the time to peruse the old shop. He and David had done wonders to bring the magic back to the place she had spent so many hours at as a lonely child. That was before David had discovered she was an orphan that had run away from her group home. Although the adoption was never made legal, Ruth Nolan considered Emma her daughter the moment David had finally convinced her to come home with him. He was already dating Mary Margaret at the time, apparently high school sweethearts, and she had gained a mother, brother and sister all in one night. It was the best decision she had ever made. Well, that and keeping Henry of course.

Killian returned with two steaming mugs of cocoa topped with fluffy white cream and dusted with cinnamon. She smiled as she thanked him.

“I have the carving examples in my office if you’d like to take a look at them,” he said bashfully.

“Lead the way, master carver,” she quipped. As it turned out, he had printed at least twenty pictures of possible dinosaur carvings, many of them too intricate for her.

“Do you happen to know what Henry’s favorite species is?” Emma thought back to the times he had convinced her to watch the Jurassic Park movies with him. He had always perked up when a raptor was on screen.

“He loves the velociraptors as well as the t-rex, but the raptors are his favorite for sure.”

Killian picked out a very difficult carving that almost looked like the raptor’s head was jumping right out of the pumpkin. “I’m afraid this is the only example I could find that resembled a raptor.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. I could hardly finger paint as a kid. Not the artistic type, but I think I could handle the t-rex. The one from the Jurassic Park logo doesn’t look too difficult and it is Henry’s favorite movie.”

He pulled the picture from the pile and handed it to her. “And I will be there every step of the way to help you create a masterpiece for your son,” he spoke reverently.

__________

Killian bid Emma farewell after giving her a few books to read that she was interested in. He wasn’t running a library, but couldn’t find it in himself to charge her for them. She had refused at first, but he had managed to convince her with the knowledge that he was certain she would return them in good condition and still very much sellable. He didn’t buy the bookstore to make a profit. He had already done that with his previous job as a stockbroker in London. He had told Emma that after his brother perished in a naval exercise gone wrong, he packed up what little he owned, entrusted his clients with his best friend and coworker Robin and left for America with no plan.

Emma was doing a fantastic job with her carving the next night. She needed help with getting the teeth just right since they were so many of them. Every time he would lean over her to give her instruction he would breath in her lovely scent. She smelled of apples and cinnamon and it was a scrumptious combination. He was remiss to bid her farewell at the end of the night. Tomorrow was Halloween and everyone would light up their creations. Mary Margaret had done a fine job of carving her princess design as well.

“So what are your plans for tomorrow night, love? Trick or treating with your boy?”

“Yeah, just as soon as I finish my shift. Henry is very excited to see my jack-o-lantern. Thank you Killian, for helping me put a smile on his face.”

“And what is young master Henry dressing as for the evening?”

“A pirate. He’s very excited about it.”

Killian beamed at the new information. He and his brother grew up pretending to be pirates as well. They would have sword fights with sticks in the front yard of the orphanage they grew up in. They even went so far as to purchase a sailboat together when it became financially possible.

“And you, Swan? What will you be dressing as?”

“Oh, I won’t be dressing up,” she laughed.

“That’s unfortunate, because I believe you would make a lovely princess.” She blushed at his praise. It was the most beautiful thing.

Emma finished her dinosaur and it was almost a perfect match to the picture he had given her. He was bursting with pride for her.

“Well, thank you again for everything, Killian. Perhaps I’ll see you around?”

“I certainly hope so, love. You do need to return those books that I lent you eventually. But I do hope you’ll visit me at the shop before you finish them,” he said in a pleading tone. She gave him a shy smile, the blush returning.

“Goodnight, Killian,” she said picking up her pumpkin.

“Goodnight, love.” He watched her walk out the door with Mary Margaret, the brunette looking over her shoulder to flash him a conspiratorial smile. He returned it eagerly. He had a lot of work ahead of him tonight to finish his plan.

David had informed him that Emma would be finished at the station by six and picking Henry up from Elsa’s. That meant that he had until 6:15 to get everything set up. Thankfully he had David and Mary Margaret to assist him with his task. Emma’s jack-o-lantern was already out on her front porch. The sun had set by the time his surprise was complete.

__________

Emma and Henry turned the corner that led to their home and she gasped at the sight before her. She parked the car and they both rushed to get out to investigate the glowing creations. Henry was darting between each jack-o-lantern, bouncing on his feet as he observed each one. There were nine in all, each one with a carving of a different dinosaur. In the middle of the pack was the very raptor that Emma had deemed impossible for her. Henry stared at it in wonder, pointing out every detail to his mother.

“Mom, this is so cool! How did you do it?” he asked excitedly.

“I… didn’t.” She knew there was only one explanation and she actually teared up at the thought of him putting so much work into bringing her son such joy. Just then she watched as Killian, Mary Margaret and David approached them. He was dressed as a sexy version of Captain Hook. All black leather and a smattering of chest hair peeking out of his v-neck shirt and vest.

“Wow!” Henry exclaimed. “Mom, look at his costume.” Oh, she was looking alright. Probably more like leering. Henry ran up to them, nearly knocking Killian to the ground as he wrapped his hands around him in a hug. Killian returned the gesture. “Thanks for the pumpkins, Mr. Jones” He then went on to ask him questions about his costume. Emma was dumbfounded at the instant connection they seemed to share.

“Do you like it, Emma?” he asked with an almost nervous smile.

“Like it, no. Love it, absolutely.”

“Emma, I was hoping we could take Henry trick or treating with Leo. Perhaps give you two a little time alone?” Mary Margaret asked with a knowing smile. Emma agreed while gazing into Killian’s hopeful eyes. She had known this man for all of two days yet he had managed to worm his way into her heart.

After bidding the group farewell, she turned to the pirate who was grinning like a loon. She knew just what to do with that grin. Emma closed the gap between them by pulling him in for a searing kiss. He was stunned for about a half a second before returning the kiss with the same fervor. His lips were soft and rough at the same time. She licked along the seam of his delicious lips and he opened for her, groaning as he did. Emma let out a moan of her own at the taste of him. Their tongues tangled as they explored each other’s mouths. Her hands grasped the back of his head just as his ran through her hair. She knew they needed to come up for oxygen soon or they wouldn’t make it inside. She pulled away slightly as Killian chased her lips. She leaned her forehead against his, both of them breathing heavily from the impassioned embrace.

“Would you like to come in for cocoa?” she asked him once she had found her voice.

“Very much,” he answered breathlessly. “Will you go out with me Friday night? Dave offered to take Henry for the evening.”

She raised her eyes to his again. His face had grown soft and hopeful. Her answer came in the form of another kiss, this time slow and sweet.

They spent the rest of the evening talking by the fireplace, cocoa in hand. She enjoyed getting to know Killian Jones, master pumpkin carver and owner of her favorite book store.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Lollipop (a Dean/Cas Halloween fic, inspired by nerd!Dean in 14x04 “Mint Condition”) (ao3)

Dean Winchester isn't the most popular boy in his school. In fact, you couldn't get lower on the totem pole than him. But he's come to accept it, even if it means dealing with people like Gordon every time he tiptoes out of the status quo. Making first impressions is hard given that he's known most of his classmates since the beginning. But besides Charlie, he doesn't have anyone in his corner.

Except for Castiel, the school's quarterback who transferred to their school last year. But he'd never go for someone like Dean...

           Halloween was Dean’s favorite day of the year, no matter what Sammy thought. Dressing up in fun costumes, watching scary movies – not to mention all the candy! It might have been a few years since he stopped trick-or-treating, but the magic of the holiday still captures him. And even though Dean is in school, he still managed to add a little flair to his outfit. Right now he pulls at his already-loose tie, trying (and failing) to show the rainbow-colored S-symbol on his shirt that’s peeking out from behind his unbuttoned button-down. Luckily he’s not too absorbed in his wardrobe, able to spot the blur of red before it pounces on his back.

           “Happy Halloween!” Charlie shrieks, arms tugging tight on his neck. He chokes out a “Charlie” while he pries her off of him. She doesn’t budge at first, but lets go after a few more seconds of his choking. Dean whirls to face her, red as a bloody corpse.

           “Were you trying to kill me?”

           “Pfft what? Why?” she giggles, “If you died I’d have no friends!”

           He pouts, but accepts her answer. “So, if murder wasn’t your main goal, then why the strangling?”

           “It’s Halloween!” Charlie shouts, oblivious to the stares of the other children, “I thought you might like a good scare to get the day started.”

           Dean rolls his eyes. “I already got that when Sammy forgot to lock the bathroom door.” It was the one time he regretted remembering his glasses on the way to the shower. Seeing Sam reminded him of that one scene from Sleepaway Camp, and Dean wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “Anyway, where’s your costume?”

           “I’m wearing it,” she says, pulling the pointy-eared mask down and tugging her red-and-black cape out to match her wingspan. “I’m committing more than you, Clark.”

           “Shut up,” he mumbles, pushing her lightly, “Ma said I couldn’t wear my Batman costume to school. Said something ‘bout it bein’ too distracting.” She didn’t say that. When Dean told her his plans for his last Halloween as a high schooler, Mary sighed and forbade him from wearing it. Dean argued with her, but she laid the law in their house. “I just don’t want people to say anything about you,” she told him after Dean stormed into his room, pillow held tight against his chest. “Your costume is so nice, but it’d be too… much for a classroom. And you wouldn’t want something bad said about it after you put so much money into it, now would you?”

           She had a point, but he still wanted to dress up as something. His day-costume earned him a sigh and a long hug when she saw it, but that’s all Mary said on the matter.

           “Mary,” Charlie groans, falling against the row of lockers next to Dean’s, “Why must you break up the Bat-Duo?!?”

           Dean smiles at her. “Hey, ease up alright? I’m still DC – and I even managed to add a touch of gay.” He pulls at his shirt in a classic Superman pose, cocking his hip the extra inch to Charlie’s delight. Dean lets her laugh wash over him, happy to bring joy to his friend.

           It’s short-lived.

           He’s shoved into the lockers, knocking his head against the metal. His glasses fly off his face from the force, and he bites down the pain.

           “Well, looks like I found Superfag’s kryptonite – locker!” The grating laughter clued him in on who caused stars to dance around his vision.

           “Gordon,” Dean hisses, squinting at the blurry shapes in front of him, “What do you want?”

           “Just stopping by to say how much we love your costume,” Alistair tells him, the voice coming from his left, “Really captures the whole lonely, gay nerd vibe you send out.”

           “Although if you’re gonna be trick-or-treating, you’ll need something better,” Brady jeers, “No one’ll let you touch their Twizzlers looking like that?”

           Charlie huffs from next to him. “Why don’t you jerks leave us alone, all right?”

           Gordon mocks her with a pity laugh. “No one asked you Bat bitch, so why don’t you step off, huh?”

           “Leave her out of it,” Dean says, drawing the focus back to him, “Just because you can’t deal with your massive crush on me doesn’t mean you get to take it out on her.” He knows he hit a nerve by how the air shifts, the energy tensing and pricking his skin. Gordon grabs his collar and slams his head back against the locker once more, then leans in close.

           “What’d you say to me, Winchester?”

           Dean doesn’t back down. “You heard me. Get any closer and you’ll regret it.”

           “Oh, right – because I’m so scared of the gay kid with the dead dad.” Dean flinches – because of Gordon’s words and the fist that smashes next to his head. Charlie gasps, and he notices more than sees how silent the hallway has become. A fuzzy wall surrounds them, an indecipherable sea of colors and features – as if the blow to the head sent him into a Picasso painting.

           “Now,” Gordon continues, his hushed voice cutting across the silence, “You wanna apologize while you still can?”

           Dean knows he’s not walking away from this without a bruise, and only hopes it’s not bad enough that Mary has to call off work, again, to pick him up. That being said, he chooses to not make it easy for himself. “I’m sorry,” he wheezes, smirking, “Sorry I won’t let you suck my dick.”

           “That’s it,” Gordon rears back another fist, “I hope you like jawbreakers.”

           He braces for impact – only it never comes. Dean opens an eye, letting the air whoosh out of him when he sees Gordon’s fist inches from his face. Something stopped him before his punch could land, and even with his poor eyesight he can tell his savior has dark hair and broad shoulders.

           It’s when he hears a familiar rumble that he realizes who saved him.

           “Walker,” Castiel says with his cool, ‘I-gargle-rocks-for-breakfast’ voice, “what do you think you’re doing?”

           “Back off Novak,” Gordan snaps at the other kid, “Just teaching this nerd here his place.”

           “You seem to be doing a shitty job, then,” Castiel tells him, “Because his place is as far from you and your neanderthal friends as possible.” The chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘burns’ is nice.

           ‘But where were they before Cas stepped in?’

           Gordon doesn’t let go. “What’s it to you if we rough up Winchester here?”

           Castiel takes a step back. “Go ahead, then. Do it. But you wouldn’t like the consequences.”

           “You think you scare me?” Gordon chuckles. He puts up a brave front, but even Dean can hear the warble in his response. “What’s a tight ass like you gonna do?”

           “It’s funny,” Castiel says, “how easy it is people write off the things they see on Halloween. They might see a bunch of bruises and blood and think it’s a costume. Would you like to test this phenomena?”

           Gordon doesn’t waste any time dropping Dean. He steps back into his cluster; enough that his features start to soften into indecipherableness. But he can sense the hatred in his words. “You’re lucky Winchester,” he spits, “But not that lucky.” He and his friends break through the crowd, dispersing them and forcing them on their way.

           “Dean,” Charlie comes to his side, rubbing his back, “Are you okay?”

           He musters up a false smile. “Yeah… nothing I’m not used to.”

           “Excuse me, these are yours… right?”

           Dean turns to see Castiel standing a little too close. He’s holding his forgotten glasses in his tan blobs. Getting tired of looking through wax paper, Dean takes his glasses back with a small ‘thanks’. Although not seeing Castiel in crisp definition might have made the following conversation easier.

           The blur takes clear form now. Castiel’s once soft jaw hardens, and Dean can make out the small cracks on his dry lips. Notice how the blue in his eyes seems to match the color of his varsity jacket. And his hair, as always, looks as neat and tidy as the storylines on Dr. Sexy. Dean swallows around his heart, and hopes he isn’t blushing too bad. The other boy has been an object of his desires for some time, now, ever since Charlie convinced him to attend one of their school’s football games last year. He didn’t get a good look at him on the field, but after the game was another story.

           Dean was waiting for Charlie, shivering in his dad’s old leather jacket. “Damn Charlie and her tiny bladder,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together, “Why she couldn’t hold it ‘til we got to the pizzeria…”

           “You look cold.”

           He rolled his eyes, and had a smart retort on his tongue. It died there when he got a good look at who said it. “Huh? Oh… yeah. I’m just… waiting for my friend.”

           “Have you been waiting long?” Castiel asked, bundled in a puffy jacket and fuzz-ball hat. Dean realized he had only played football when he did a full-body scan and noticed the grass on his knees.

           “I’m not sure,” Dean said, “But… shouldn’t you be with your team?”

           “Pardon?”

           “I just always thought,” Dean babbled, teeth chattering, “After games a team always stayed together or… something.”

           Castiel cracked a smile at that. “Then I must not have gotten the memo,” he said, “But maybe that’s because I’m still getting used to how things are done here at Carver Edlund?”

           “Oh, you’re new?”

           “Transferred in this year,” he nodded, holding a hand out, “Castiel Novak.”

           “Dean Winchester.” Dean shook his hand, and felt the other boy leave something in it. “Oh, look buddy – I’m the wrong guy to give drugs, too.”

           “What?” Castiel gaped, eyes wide, “No, no – you misunderstood – it’s a Hot Hands.” Dean opens his hand to look at the orange packet Castiel dropped into it. “My mom always seems to give me more than I’ll need and… you looked like you could use it.”

           “Oh, um… thanks.”

           “It was nice meeting you, Dean,” Castiel said, stepping away, “I’ll see you around.”

           “…Yeah.”

           They’ve shared a few more conversations after that, but tend to stick to their social circles. Not from lack of trying. Dean thought about going up to Castiel one day in the cafeteria, but he had took to long and was scared off after Bart called him on ‘staring’.

           “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Castiel says, shocking him back to the present, “Gordon shouldn’t be allowed to walk the halls without a muzzle.”

           “It’s fine, Cas, really,” Dean tells him, “Gordon’s like a big teddy bear… with teeth and claws and anger management issues.” Neither Castiel nor Charlie laughed at his joke. “I could have handled it?”

           “Before or after he broke your nose, Dean?” Charlie scoffs. Dean casts a wry glance in her direction.

           Dean curls in on himself, pocketing his hands, “Nothing I wouldn’t have dealt with before…”

           He feels Castiel’s fingers tilting his chin up, putting the other boy in his line of sight. “Even so,” he whispers, “Doesn’t mean you should be okay with how they treat you.” Dean’s throat goes dry at that; unable to come up with anything that won’t make the situation even more embarrassing.

           The silence drags on, and soon enough Castiel takes a step back. He scratches at his neck, and now has trouble meeting Dean’s eyes. “By the way,” he continues, mumbling his words, “I – uh… really like your shirt.”

           “What?”

           “Superman?” Castiel points out, “Not my favorite hero but… he’s really cool, too.”

           “Oh.”

           He’s saved by any more awkwardness by the first bell’s ring. Castiel puts even more distance between them. “I should,” he nods his head to the left, “I should get to class. Stay safe, Dean!” Castiel darts away before he could say goodbye.

           Dean barely moves, even when Charlie takes Castiel’s spot. “Well if that didn’t flash me back to Love, Simon…”

           He blinks at her. “What?”

           “Oh don’t ‘what’ me you disaster gay,” Charlie chuckles, “He’s got a thing for you.”

           Dean blushes at the notion. “That – that’s crazy,” he stammers, “How could you – he’s not – it can’t be –“

           “Dean, why do you think he doesn’t?”

           “Because!” He glances around and leans close to her, whispering. “Because… he wouldn’t be interested in me.”

           Charlie sighs, and then tosses her arm over his shoulders. “We gotta get your confidence up one day, otherwise we’ll never conquer the seven kingdoms of Moondoor, my dear Handmaiden.”

           “Charlie…”

           “Let’s just get to class.”

           He lets Castiel and his haunting, blue eyes drift towards the back of his mind.

           “No! But we…we killed you!!!”

           Dean laughs as the girl screams her head off and rushes down the hallway from Hatchet Man – albeit not far in those heels. He sticks his hand into candy bowl and pulls out a bite-size piece of chocolate, unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth. Dean smiles around his as Hatchet Man’s victim trips over nothing in her haste. “God,” he chuckles, “They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”

           Just as she starts to make her way towards the elevator, the doorbell rings outside. Dean sighs and looks towards the door in annoyance.

           He knows he’ll have to answer it. There’s no one else but him at home. Sam had been invited out with a few friends, and Mary was dropping him off before going to a costume party at the Mills’.

           “Are you sure you don’t have to go anywhere?” Mary asked him before she left, pulling her coat tight around her cowgirl outfit, “No special plans with friends?”

           “Charlie said she had to finish a project for her Coding class, so she’s too busy to hang.”

           “And there’s… no one else?”

           “Ma, it’s okay – I mean, someone has to hand out the candy, right?”

           “We can leave the bucket out with a sign if you’d rather be doing something else?” Mary tries one last time, “Maybe if Sam asks his friends…”

           Dean winces. “I don’t wanna crimp my baby bro’s style. Besides, if I show up they might kick him out because he’s the less awesome Winchester.”

           Sam walks into the room at that comment, and levels Dean with a flat look. “Yeah, because I’m the one in the replica superhero suit.” Dean crosses his arms, or as best he could in his Batman costume.

           After the rough day at school, which only felt worse since everybody stared at him and whispered behind his back more than usual, he traded in his button-down for the Kevlar and spandex. It’s a special costume – hand-made for him by a person down in Texas. The cost wasn’t thatmuch – in fact, he managed to pay Mary back after a full summer down at Singer’s Auto Repair Shop. It was worth it, since stepping into Batman’s boots made him feel cooler, more badass, and most importantly – safe.

           Although there’s probably nothing cool about a teenager in a Batman costume lounging on a sofa.

           The doorbell rings again.

           “Alright, alright, I’m coming!” he grouses, pulling himself up. He tosses his glasses off and tugs the cowl over his face before opening the door.

           On the other side of the door is a little boy dressed as Luke Skywalker, gaping up at him, with his bag’s straps loose in his little fingers. Dean fights back a grin, not wanting to ruin the act. The other reason Dean had wanted to stay home was because the suit always got him compliments. Little kids figured he was the real deal, and their guardians always flashed him a smile or nodded as he played along with the children. He’s even recognized a few kids from school give him compliments.

           Dean’s not sure they knew it was him under the mask, however. If they did, they might not have said anything nice.

           “Hello, Luke,” Dean starts in a low growl, “Are you here because you sensed something in the Force?”

           The question snaps the boy back into focus, and he remembers what he came here for. He giggles, and holds out his bag. “No Batman,” he says, smiling with three-fourths a smile, “It’s Halloween!”

           “Halloween? Ah yes… that makes sense,” Dean smirks, looking away, “And you want me to go out and stop criminals! It’s about time I start patrol…”

           “Noooo…”

           Dean bends down as much as he can, to meet the kid on his level. “Then what should I do?”

           “Give candy!” the kid pushes his bag out once more, “Trick-or-treat!”

           “Candy? But candy is for good little boys and girls who uphold the law,” Dean offers the boy a stern look, “Do you promise to do just that?”

           “Yes Batman!”

           “Then here is your candy.” Dean grabs a generous amount and drops it into the boy’s almost full bag before standing to his full height. He watches the boy search his bag with a bright smile. The boy shares it with him.

           “Thank you, Mr. Batman!”

           “It’s no problem,” Dean says, “Just a hero doing his duty.” He’s about to return to his movie when a deep chuckle draws him out longer than he intended. Dean sets his sight on the bright, red blur standing a few feet away from Luke. He squints, making out a yellow lightning bolt on his chest. The symbol clues him in that the guy’s supposed to be the Flash, but it’s his next words let him in on who’s behind the mask.

           “You seem to be very good at your job… Batman.”

           ‘Holy shit,’ Dean thinks, mouth falling open slightly, ‘Is that… Cas?’

           “What can I say,” Dean grimaces, “Batman’s good with kids.”

           “As he should be,” Castiel chuckles, “To have raised four…”

           “Yeah, um…” he clears his throat, “is Luke here your brother?” The younger boy is oblivious to the conversation, chomping his way through a full-size candy bar.

           “What? Oh, no,” Castiel looks over at the boy, “Jack’s my nephew. My brother Luke is laid up with a cold so he couldn’t take him trick-or-treating so… here I am.”

           “Ah.”

           “You know, you’re the first person to guess brother?” Castiel continues, “People kept asking me if he was my son…”

           “Yeah, well… you don’t look old enough to have a kid,” Dean chuckles, “but you do sound like you would.”

           “That might be true,” Castiel says, “My brother says I have the voice of a chain smoker.”

           “Luke?”

           “No, Gabriel.” He pauses. “What about you?”

           “What about me?”

           “No other plans besides manning the door.”

           Dean bristles at that. “It’s not glamorous, but somebody has to do it. I’m sure there’s probably tons of parties you could be at right now, too.”

           He doesn’t see the look on Castiel’s face, but Dean notices the red get closer. “I… I didn’t mean to offend,” Castiel says, “It’s a good thing you were here… the past few houses were just bowls of candies and signs. You, answering the door… it’s brings a human element back to Halloween.” The words send a chill up Dean’s spine no horror movie could ever accomplish.

           “Yeah, well…” Dean fumbles, holding the bowl up high, “thanks. Want some candy?”

           Castiel reaches forward and rustles through the candy before pulling out a lollipop as red as his costume. He takes his time unwrapping it, slowly pushing it past his lips. Dean’s suit, made to fit him perfectly, feels uncomfortable.

           “Cherry,” he says, “My favorite. Thank you, Dean.”

           It takes a few seconds for Castiel’s words to register. He almost drops the bowl. “Cas you – you recognized me?”

           “Of course,” Castiel grins, “There’s not that many boys our age who would invest a lot of money in a suit like ours.”

           “Like ours?”

           “Oh – you aren’t wearing contacts?” Castiel asks, “I figured with the suit…”

           “I mean, I don’t wear the mask indoors,” Dean explains, “And I don’t usually get into conversations with the people I’m handing candy, too.”

           “That’s fair…” Dean squirms, unsure what the next step in the conversation is. He’s not good at this, and doesn’t want to say something that would be like walking into quicksand. Castiel takes the decision from him.

           “You know, I like this costume better than your earlier one.”

           “You do?”

           Castiel hums. “Indeed. Batman is one of my favorites.”

           Dean cocks his head to the side. “Then why’re you dressed as the Flash?”

           “I said he was one of my favorites, not my favorite.”

           “Oh,” Dean says, rubbing at his neck, “Yeah… Flash is pretty cool, too.”

           “Yes…” Castiel pulls his lollipop out and takes a step closer. “Hey, Dean, have you ever heard of Batflash?”

           “I… I don’t think I have?”

           “It’s the romantic coupling between Batman,” he gestures to Dean with his lollipop, “and Flash,” he points back to himself. “Some people like to think that the relationship is strictly platonic but… well, I would say otherwise.”

           “You would…” Castiel’s intention strikes Dean in the back of the head as if it were a baseball bat. “Oh.”

           The other boy leans fully into his space, enough that he can see Castiel’s pink-tinged smirk. Castiel pushes the lollipop into Dean's mouth, and moves towards his ear. “I’ll be bringing Jack back home soon, and after that I don’t have anything else planned.”

           “No… no parties?”

           “None that’d make me want to be anywhere but here.” Dean softly moans around the candy. “So, if you’d like… I could come by and teach you the finer points of the ship?”

           He nods.

           “Very well,” he says, stepping back, “Keep that safe for me. Jack?” The smaller boy looks up with chocolate-stained cheeks, and offers another goodbye to Dean.

           Dean watches them fade into the fog of the night as he tries to process what happened.

           The house is dark and quiet, the television screen long since muted. Now teens from generations ago silently scream as they face down their doom. Mary opens the door slowly, stepping into the darkness, boots in hand. “Dean? Dean, I’m sorry I’m late but Donna wouldn’t let me leave without showing off her pictures from her trip to Aruba last spring.” She turns on the light. “Dean – oh!”

           Mary can barely contain her grin at the sight on her couch. Dean, still in his Batman costume, has fallen asleep, nestled in the arms of another boy. She thinks he’s dressed as the Flash, but she’s never been as good at the superhero names like John was. The other boy has his nose pressed firmly into the crown of Dean’s hair, and there are candy wrappers scattered between them.

           “Oh thank you all that is great and merciful,” she sighs, tearing up at the sight of her boy’s contented smile.

           The warm feeling fades, replaced with a more mischievous thought. She takes out her phone and snaps a quick picture. “Sam’s going to be so pissed he missed this.”

           Mary forwards it to her youngest son before heading off to bed.

           ‘A great Halloween indeed.’

[purple-urself]

Wild At Heart - A Kiribaku Zoo AU

So this is a tiny bit late, but I’m so proud to post my fic for the @takemyhandzine! This was such a great experience for me, thank you to everyone who took part in creating such an amazing project!

Title: Wild At Heart Rating: General Audiences Warnings: None Summary: "Technically, Eijirou isn’t actually supposed to be back here. It’s mainly reserved for keepers, vets, and sometimes security. But since him and Bakugou have been growing closer, Bakugou had for some reason decided Eijirou was trustworthy enough to accompany him. A terrible decision really, but one Eijirou appreciates nonetheless."

Or,

The one were Bakugou shows his caring side and Kiri swoons lol

READ IT ON A03

“And that concludes our Elephant talk for today!” Eijirou announces to the crowds of people gathered around the huge enclosure. “Thank you so much for listening! I’ll be hanging around for the next half an hour, if anyone has any further questions about the Hi Way herd, please don’t hesitate to ask. My next talk will be in the jaguar house at 3:30pm, so if that’s something you’re interested in I’ll see you there!”

Eijirou finishes his speech with a wave, stepping down from the podium and immediately turning off his head mic.

The crowd begins to chatter amongst themselves, and Eijirou takes the time to gaze across the desert terrain towards the creatures that lived within.

The Hi Way family were a herd of 7 Asian elephants, the youngest being only three weeks old. Little Anjan was trotting around in the sunshine, never straying far from his mother. Having a new baby at the zoo always boosted visitor numbers, and Eijirou couldn’t help but smile as he sees a man lift a little girl onto his shoulders for a better view of the calf.

“Excuse me.” The voice comes from his left, and Eijirou turns to find a boy, around the age of 12, with what seems to be his parents close behind.

“Hey!” Eijirou says enthusiastically, “Did you have a question for me?”

The boy glances back to his parents, who nod at him encouragingly. Eijirou smiles at him, and waits patiently.

“Well, um. I was just wondering, how much food they actually eat? ‘Cos they’re huge y’know?”

The boy holds his arms wide, as if imitating the size of an elephant, and Eijirou chuckles.

“It’s a really good question, and to be honest i’m not sure of the exact answer.” Eijirou tells the kid thoughtfully. “But what I do know is that they spend most of their time eating. Because they’re so big, they have to eat a lot of food so they get enough energy.”

The boy nods, as if agreeing with him.

“That makes sense I guess.”

“Was there anything else you wanted to ask?” Eijirou glances towards the parents questioningly.

“No, that was it.” The boy replies, going to grab his father’s arm to pull him towards the next animal.

“What do you say to him, Kouta?” The woman asks before the boy could run off.

“Thanks!” He shouts hastily before running off, parents trailing behind.

Eijirou smiles as he watches them go, before his attention is caught by another visitor, eager to learn more about the Hi Way herd.

Eijirou gets to the jaguar house a few minutes early, just in time to meet his favorite keeper at the back gate.

Bakugou doesn’t seem to notice him approach, instead focusing on the two big plastic containers he’s trying to balance in his arms.

“Dude!” Eijirou calls out, trying to get Bakugou’s attention. He succeeds, causing Bakugou to startle and fumble with the containers. Eijirou dashes forwards, catching them before they can fall.

“Dumbass, why would you shout me like that?” Bakugou growls at him, snatching his containers back from Eijirou.

“I was gonna offer to help! My huge manly muscles would finally be put to good use.” Eijirou flexes dramatically, and Bakugou rolls his eyes, cheeks turning slightly pink.

“I don’t need your muscles, just open the gate.”

Eijirou does, following Bakugou to the staff entrance of the building.

Technically, Eijirou isn’t actually supposed to be back here. It’s mainly reserved for keepers, vets, and sometimes security. But since him and Bakugou have been growing closer, Bakugou had for some reason decided Eijirou was trustworthy enough to accompany him. A terrible decision really, but one Eijirou appreciated nonetheless.

Bakugou puts both containers down on the stainless steel work surface, snapping on some latex gloves before going to open the lids.

“Please don’t tell me there’s something dead in those boxes.” Eijirou says in trepidation. Bakugou ignores him, reaching inside on if the containers and bringing out a whole dead chicken, feathers and all.

Eijirou wrinkles up his nose, looking away from the gorey sight.

“You’re the one who chooses to come in here, hair-for-brains.” Bakugou tells him. “I’m just doing my job.”

“I guess I’ll go and hang with Midoriya in the Education Center for ten minutes then.” Eijirou says innocently, turning on his heel to head for the door.

“I’ll be done in a minute, for fucks sake!”

Eijirou hides his grin.

With Bakugou still fiddling around with the dead chicken, Eijirou wonders into the next room, where there are two monitors showing grainy footage of the inside of the enclosure.

A closer look reveals Napo, their 11 year old golden-coated Jaguar, asleep on his favorite rock. Every once in a while his tail flicks outwards, but other than that he’s completely still.

Eijirou moves forward to flick through the 12 different camera feeds stationed around various sections of the enclosure. He finds Goshi after a good few minutes of searching. She’s always harder to spot owing to her pitch black fur, but eventually he sees her tucked away underneath a rock, overhanging a small stream that runs through the outdoor section of the enclosure.

She’s always been the shy one of the two, but it’s become more prominent since falling pregnant.

Or so Eijirou was told, he’d only started working for the zoo three months ago, which was around the time Bakugou and the vets guess that she might have gotten pregnant. She was due any day now, which seemed to be making Bakugou nearly as illusive as Goshi herself.

The keeper had been spending most of his time with the jaguars over the past week, Eijirou had noted. He also had the zoo vets on call, ready to help out with the birth at a moments notice.

His phone started to beep at him, signalling the alarm he’d set two minutes before his show was to start. He goes back into the main room, Bakugou wiping down the counters with the prepared food inside each of the tubs again.

“I’ve gotta go.” Eijirou tells him, gesturing towards the door. “But I’ll see you after?”

“Yeah,” Bakugou mumbles before looking up. “I’ll be feeding them separately again, Goshi inside and Napo outside.”

Eijirou nods at the info, knowing he’ll need it for his talk later.

“Awesome, see you later.”

Eijirou waves a quick goodbye before heading to the front of the enclosure.

There’s a barrier surrounding the enclosure looking across a small revine, on the other side of which is a forested area, complete with a running stream. There are a few small trees dotted around, and a huge wooden tree trunk, which was basically a glorified scratching post.

There’s already a small crowd gathered around the enclosure, but it doesn’t seem like any of them has spotted Goshi in the shadows.

As if hearing his thoughts, Goshi emerges from her hiding spot beneath the rocks, which causes quite a stir amongst the onlookers. There’s a flurry of camera snaps before she disappears inside. He can hear some of the visitors complain about how quickly she disappears, which makes Eijirou roll his eyes. Some people that visit the zoo don’t really understand that the animals actually have a choice whether they want to be seen or not. This isn’t some circus that forces them to perform. It’s a place to keep endangered animals safe, and to help increase populations of at-risk species.

Eijirou quickly steps up to the small podium to the side of the viewing area, putting on his head mic, and flicking it on.

“Not to worry folks, that’s not the last jaguar you’re going to see today!” He starts, trying to appease the grumbling crowd. “My Name is Kirishima Eijirou and I’m going to be telling you some fascinating facts about our jaguars today!”

Eijirou goes through his basic introduction for the jaguars, spouting off facts about their habitat and biology, keeping a close eye on the enclosure for any sign of movement.

He spots Bakugou not long after, striding into the enclosure, bringing with him the dead chicken from earlier carried on top of a long pole.

“And as you can see here, not a jaguar but just as scary, our keeper Bakugou Katsuki will be feeding Napo some lovely raw chicken.” He gets a few chuckles from the audience. “Keeper Bakugou will be putting the chicken right at the top of our 20ft scratch post.”

Bakugou does as Eijirou describes, using the pole to hook the chicken right at the top of the trunk.

“You might think this is a little cruel of the keepers, putting the food so out of reach from our Jaguar, but as you’ll see in a moment, getting the food down from that height will be no problem for him.”

Bakugou retreats from the enclosure, and Eijirou begins to tell the crowd about their two Jaguars.

“Napo, the Jaguar being fed here today, is our male jaguar. He’s 11 years old, and has the classic gold fur colouring with black rosettes. Goshi is our female jaguar, slightly younger than Napo at 10 years old. Some of you may have caught a glimpse of her just before my talk began. She has a black coat, though if you were to look really close, you’d still be able to see the black rosettes along her fur. Goshi is also expecting some cubs, so she’s going to be fed separately to make sure she gets enough to eat.”

Eijirou can see some of the crowd's attention being shifted from him back towards the enclosure, and sure enough, he looks over to find Napo slinking into view. He allows the crowd to chat amongst themselves for a moment .

“So here’s Napo, and as you can see, he’s opening his mouth and scrunching his nose slightly, which is, believe it or not, how he scents the air. He’s sniffing around, and he can already tell there’s food somewhere inside the enclosure.”

Napo slowly creeps towards the tree trunk, keeping an eye on the chicken at the top.

“He won’t run up and grab the food right away, like a house cat, he’ll look around for any danger or competition, and get ready to pounce when he feels like the time is right.”

As if on cue, Napo bounds towards the trunk at top speed, using his claws to drag himself up the bark. The crowd gasp at the display, camera shutters going off wildly.

The jaguar grips the chicken by the teeth, pulling it free, then leaping gracefully back to the ground. The crowd applaud, which Eijirou never understands because it only causes the animals to spook, but Napo seems to ignore them.

He settles down with his meal, ripping off chucks of meat clutched between his paws.

Eijirou finishes off the talk with some key facts about jaguar conservation, and how the audience could help with saving the planet, one recycled plastic bottle at a time.

After answering questions on the jaguars, Eijirou makes his way to the back rooms again, finding Bakugou hovering over the security footage, watching Goshi tear apart her own chicken.

“How’s she doing?” Eijirou asks when Bakugou doesn’t acknowledge his presence.

“She’s eating fine.” He says, not looking away, “Which is good. She seems comfortable, so I don’t think it’ll be today.”

“How will you be able to tell?” Eijirou enquires curiously.

“She’ll become restless, start pacing. She might even get aggressive with Napo, though they’ve been together for so long I don’t think that’ll happen.”

Eijirou nods to himself, not commenting, content on watching the jaguar consume her ‘prey’.

Bakugou lets Napo back inside once she’s done, and they both seem to settle down together, laying on a heated rock right next to the visitor viewing area. This gets quite a reaction from the crowd gathered in front of the glass, Kirishima can see camera flashes going off through the security feed.

“Are you staying?” Bakugou asks him, making his way to the small staffroom out back.

“I have a few minutes.” Eijirou replies, checking his phone. He trails after Bakugou, taking a seat at the tiny table in the corner of the room, whilst Bakugou makes them both coffee. Eijirou takes the mug gratefully, blowing on it before taking a sip.

Bakugou settles in the seat opposite, grabbing about 10 packets of sugar and dumping them all in his mug. Eijirou watches him wearily.

“That can’t be good for you.”

“Does it look like I give a shit?” Bakugou mumbles, stirring in the monstrous amounts of sugar.

“It kinda does.” Eijirou laughs. Bakugou frowns at him, so he continues, “No one looks as good as you do without caring about their health.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen slightly, and Eijirou can feel himself beginning to blush.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eijirou scrambles for an explanation. “J-Just that you’re super buff!” He flexes a bicep as an example. “There’s no way those muscles of yours are natural.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, but Eijirou can tell he’s trying not to grin.

“I go to the gym, yeah.” He admits, “So that means I can have 10 sugars in my coffee and you’re not allowed to judge me for it.”

“I’m still judging you.” Eijirou tells him, trying not to let out a smile.

Bakugou snorts derisively. He opens his mouth to retort, but is interrupted by Eijirou’s phone.

“Ah, shit.” Eijirou plucks his phone out of his pocket, swiping the alarm off. “Five minutes until the penguin talk, I gotta run!”

Bakugou nods in understanding, and Eijirou swigs the rest of his coffee as he gets to his feet.

“I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow?” Bakugou asks him, frowning at his half-empty mug.

“Yep, usual time and place!” Eijirou confirms. He puts his empty mug in the sink, then rushes out of the room with a backwards wave, “See ya tomorrow!”

The next day starts as normal, a team briefing in the morning, followed by assignments. Eijirou has a Meerkat talk first thing, which is always great because the kids really get a kick out of them. Next is the Komodo dragon, then the Chimpanzees. By the time he answers all the questions the audience has for him, Eijirou realises he’s running late for his lunch with Bakugou.

He makes it to the staff cafeteria 5 minutes late, glancing around, trying to spot the familiar spiky blond hair and annoyed scowl. He doesn’t see Bakugou anywhere, and after a few more minutes of searching, he realises Bakugou isn’t even there.

Maybe he’s running late, like Eijirou had been? It’s uncommon, but not unheard of. He knows Bakugou gets caught up in work, and tends not to notice irrelevant things like ‘time’.

He decides the grab a sandwich, taking a seat close to the window so he’d be able to see Bakugou approach.

He starts eating by himself, scrolling through his phone as he does so. He’s finished his sandwich when he glances at the time again. Bakugou is now 20 minutes late.

Eijirou bites his lip, wondering if he’d done anything to offend Bakugou, or if he was just late. Or maybe he’d arrived on time, and couldn’t be bothered to wait for Eijirou to show up. The thought makes him frown, hoping that wasn’t actually the case.

He opens the messenger app on his phone, shooting off a text to Bakugou asking if he was held up. Eijirou hopes there’s nothing seriously wrong.

As soon as Eijirou turns up to the Jaguar talk, he realises why Bakugou had stood him up.

There’s a sign just outside the Jaguar house, directing visitors away, due to ‘unforeseen circumstances’.

Goshi must have had her cubs.

Eijirou grins at the thought, full of excitement over the new arrivals. He contemplates going through the back door, wanting to see for himself, be he knows that it’s a bad idea. There’s probably other keepers and vets hanging around, and he doesn’t want to get in the way. He decides he’ll wait to hear from Bakugou before attempting to visit.

Eijirou plucks his radio from his belt, informing his supervisor of the situation. Aizawa tells him to go help out in the education centre for an hour before resuming his planned talks.

When Eijirou comes into work the next day, he isn’t sure what to expect.

He’d gotten home just after sunset the day before, calling his moms as he made dinner for himself. They were the same as usual, asking about the animals and his friends in and out of work. He’d moved cities specifically for this job, so he really missed being able to see both of his moms everyday.

He answered their questions, staying on the line even as he was eating his dinner. After hanging up, he had a quick shower before heading to bed.

It was when he was checking his phone right before falling asleep that he finally heard back from Bakugou.

“Sorry for not replying sooner. Goshi had the cubs.”

Attached to the message was a picture of Goshi, curled into a ball, fast asleep. He was able to make out tiny ears and paws poking out of Goshi’s larger frame. Eijirou felt his heart melt at the image, wanting to meet the cubs desperately.

“Congratulations!!” he types out, “You’re going to be an amazing Father ;)”

It only took a few moments for Bakugou to reply.

“I was going to let you meet them tomorrow, but now I’m not sure you deserve it.”

Eijirou gripped his phone tighter and grinned at the snarky response.

“Haa, that’s mean Bakugou! I’m gonna be a great mom to those cubs, just you wait.”

“First of all, you’re not actually allowed to take care of them, that’s my job.”

Eijirou snorted, but didn’t reply, waiting for Bakugou to finish typing.

“Second, they already have a mom, idiot.”

Eijirou maked a face, typing out his response.

“I have two moms, and I turned out just great :P”

“Damn fine, you can meet them tomorrow.”

Eijirou smiles at the thought of being able to meet the Jaguar cubs today. He heads to the staff briefing, arranging with his supervisor to change his break time so it coincides with when the Jaguar talk was meant to happen. Aizawa stares at him when he makes the request, but ends up shrugging his shoulders and telling him to “do what you want, as long as you work the proper hours,” which is fine with Eijirou.

He gets through his animal talks, replacing his usual lunch break with a session about their herd of black rhinos. He is gets more and more antsy as the day goes on, quietly admitting to himself that maybe it wasn’t just the cubs he was excited to see.

As soon as Eijirou’s lunch break arrives, he practically sprints to the cafeteria, grabbing himself and Bakugou a sandwich. He has no idea when the last time Bakugou ate was, but knowing him, he’d likely sacrifice his break time in order to look after the cubs.

Eijirou gets to the Jag house, opening the back gate and knocking impatiently at the door. He waits for a couple of minutes, about to call Bakugou, but the door eventually swings open to reveal the man himself.

Bakugou looks as if he hadn’t slept in days, with dark circles under his eyes and hair more of a mess than usual. He’s smiling though, which is a rare sight, and Eijirou can’t help but smile back.

“Mama’s here to see his children.” He tells Bakugou, who rolls his eyes, beckoning him inside.

The kitchen area is a bit of a mess, with feeding equipment littered across the work space. Bakugou ignores the mess, leading him towards the security feed.

Eijirou gasps at the image; two tiny balls of yellow fluff in amongst a mountain of hey. They’re not moving, apart from a slight flick of the ears every minute or so.

“Have they got names yet?” He asks in a hushed voice, though he’s pretty sure the sleeping cubs can’t actually hear him.

“Not yet,” Bakugou tells him lowly, “Haven’t had much time to think about it.”

Eijirou nods, making a mental note to annoy Bakugou with texts of different names until he actually decides on two.

“Why aren’t they with their Goshi?” He asks curiously.

“They just got done with the vets. Weighed them and stuff.” Bakugou rubs the stubble just begging to grow at his jaw, “They seem healthy enough, but Goshi is refusing to let them feed.” Eijirou frowns but Bakugou continues before he can ask, “It’s pretty common with animals bred in captivity. We’re trying to get her to let them feed, but in the meantime they’ll be bottle fed.”

Eijirou nods in understanding, watching the two new arrivals for a couple more moments.

“Speaking of feeding, when was the last time you ate?”

Bakugou frowns, and Eijirou can tell he’s trying to remember if he forgot to eat lunch.

“I guess this morning?”

Eijirou shakes his head, glad he had the forethought to buy some food for Bakugou as well as himself.

“You’re lucky to have such a great friend like me taking care of you.” He tells Bakugou jokingly, leading him out of the security office and towards the staffroom. This time it’s Eijirou making them both a coffee, whilst Bakugou rips open the sandwich and begins to eat. Eijirou dumps ten sugar packs in Bakugou’s coffee, placing it down in front of him.

“Black coffee, with enough sugar to make even you turn sweet.” Eijirou winks and Bakugou flips him off, mouth too full to verbally cuss him out.

Eijirou laughs at his response, sitting down to dig in to his own food. Bakugou tells him about the day before, coming into work to find Goshi in labour but not yet given birth. He had called the vet just incase of any complications, but leaving Goshi alone was the best thing to do.

“Got home late, and I couldn’t really sleep anyway.” Bakugou ruffles the hair at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Ended up getting here at six this morning, just to check on them.”

Eijirou’s eyes flicker down to the empty mug in front of Bakugou. “You want a refill?” he asks, gesturing to it with a grin.

“I’ve had… more than I care to admit already.” Bakugou grimaces and Eijirou bites his lip hesitantly.

“You need to look after yourself better dude.” He says seriously. Bakugou waves him off, and Eijirou drops the subject. He knows that this is a stressful time for Bakugou, and as much as he jokes about it, Bakugou does kind of exude the aura of a new father, complete with wrinkled clothes and too much coffee.

They clear up their lunch, heading back to the main room, Bakugou fiddling around with the milk bottles before handing one over to Eijirou. He stares at it for a second, taking it slowly from Bakugou’s grip.

“Are you serious?” He asks astonished.

“If you ever tell anyone I let you feed them, I’ll kill you.”

“I promise! It’ll be our secret.” Eijirou pretends to zip his mouth shut and throw away the key.

“Oh good, finally some peace and quiet around here.”

Eijirou mock gasps, slapping Bakugou lightly in retaliation.

They both wash their hands and snap on a pair of rubber gloves, before Bakugou leads him towards the other room, and Eijirou feels a slight wave of nervousness. He’s never actually been inside the enclosure before. Or any enclose for that matter.

“Are you sure the Napo and Goshi are locked outside?” He asks as Bakugou opens to first door, closing it straight after them.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Bakugou opens the second door, allowing Eijirou to slip inside and locking it behind them.

From here, Eijirou can see the tiny balls of fluff beginning to stir. He steps closer, watching them roll around, tiny paws flailing in the air.

“Oh my God.” He says softly, not being able to express in words how adorable they were.

“Yeah.” He glances at Bakugou, who is looking at the cubs with an expression Eijirou had never seen before. He felt his heart rate speed up at the soft expression on Bakugou’s face. “Come on, they’re probably hungry.”

Bakugou sweeps them both into his arms, and one of them lets out a tiny squeak. Eijirou has to cover his mouth to keep from gasping out loud at how cute that was.

Bakugou settles down in amongst the leaves and foliage of the enclosure, gesturing for Eijirou to join him.

“It’s not that much different from holding a house cat.” Bakugou tells him, placing the tiny cub in his lab, “For now, anyway.”

Eijirou nods, putting down the milk bottle he was still carrying to pick the little guy up. He couldn’t really feel the fur underneath the rubber gloves, but he could tell it was soft and fluffy. The cub waves his paws in the air, mewling softly.

“I’m gonna call you Katsuki.” He decides and Bakugou huffs beside him.

“That’s not going to be his name.” He says, but Eijirou just shrugs.

They start feeding the cubs, who drink the milk out of the bottle with ease. Bakugou tells him it’s important for them to drink it all to stay as healthy as possible, so Eijirou makes sure his cub has every last drop.

“They’re so precious.” Eijirou says as he pets the cub, who is trying to grab at his gloves. He glances over at Bakugou, who is trying to coax his own fluff-ball out from under his legs. He manages to get ahold of her, laying her gently on his forearm so he can pet her against his chest.

Eijirou can feel his heart stop at the sight. Bakugou being so gently and caring apparently makes him go a little crazy.

“You should- I mean we should.” Eijirou tries to get out his words whilst he has the courage. “We should like. Do something after work.”

Bakugou looks up from the cub, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Do something.”

Eijirou feels his cheeks flood we heat, and quickly amends himself.

“Like a movie or food or something.”

“A date?” Bakugou is staring at him now, and Eijirou can feel his confident evaporating by the second.

“Yeah. You know, if you want. Or something.”

Bakugou looks back at the cub in his arms, and Eijirou can feel the rejection coming, except he notices the slight flush on Bakugou’s cheeks, and the small smile tugging at his lips.

[deanssweetheart23]

Once Upon A Flannel

Title: Once Upon A Flannel

Summary: Dean doesn’t know how or why he fell in love with her. But he does know one thing. It all started with a flannel…

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer (mentioned), Castiel (mentioned)

Word count: 3977 (totally worth it, I promise)

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Some language. Implied smut. Death of a loved one, mentions of blood and references to grief. 

Author’s Notes: This is my very late submission for @luci-in-trenchcoats‘ AU & Things Challenge. Michelle, I can’t even thank you enough for being so patient with me about this. I fell so in love with the story and wanted to do it justice. 

Special thank you to twin @ravengirl94 for reading parts of it over for me and listening to me whine, I don’t know what I’d do without her.

My prompt for this was flannel (obviously, lol) and you’ll see what I did with it in the text *winks* Also, this fic was loosely inspired by Ed Sheeran’s How Would You Feel (You need to listen to that, btw, his new album is amazeballs)

Thank you for all of your love and support. Enjoy <3

The first time Dean sees her in one of his flannels, it’s after a wendigo hunt.

Autumn’s slowly creeping its way into his life again, its tawny leaves and withered hedges painting the scene in golden colors and, even though he rarely takes the time to appreciate things like these anymore, he stops for a second and breathes it all in, the crispiness and the rustles and the shadows of change.

And then, she swims into view.

She’s sitting on the hood of a Bronco in Bobby’s scrap yard, fallen leaves dancing at her feet, as she stares straight ahead, at the sky that’s turning to orange, and smiles.

And he doesn’t notice at first, but there’s something familiar there, in the red and white fabric that wraps around her, in the way the garment dwarfs her, in the rolled-up sleeves and the hem that reaches her mid-thigh and he realizes that it’s his clothes she’s wearing.

She looks beautiful.

“D.,” she smiles, a smile that’s all softness and warmth, “I thought you weren’t supposed to get back until tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck, “we finished up early.” A pause. Eyes lingering on her a bit too long. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

He can’t be sure, but he thinks he sees her cheeks flush pink.

“Yeah, it’s…soft. And.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know it’s gonna sound creepy, but, damn, dude, it smells nice.”

He chuckles.

He really can’t help it.

“C’mere, kid.” He says and pulls her to him, arms holding her tight against him until he’s pretty sure she can’t breathe anymore. 

“Hmmm. Looks like somebody missed me.”

“Shut up.” He groans, but the corners of his lips curl up in a shy smile and something tugs at his heartstrings. “How’s your leg?”

“Healing up nicely. Bobby says I’ll be ready to go by the time you two find a new case.”

“Good.” He pulls back to look at her. “S’ been a nightmare not having you on this one.”

“What, you and Sam had to pose as a couple?”

A groan.

Eyes rolled skywards.

“He made me eat rabbit food, Y/N. Rabbit food.” he whines and she laughs, rich and sunny.

He loves he’s the one who made it happen.

It surprises him, how her laugh affects him, how it has been affecting him for a while now, but he just assumes that after everything they’ve been through together, it’s good to know that she can still smile as brightly as she used to, good to know that there’s still a spark in her, one that the grief and the loss and the danger haven’t managed to burn out.

“Don’t worry, D. Tonight, I’m making the unhealthiest burger you’ve ever had. And Health Freak Sam’s not invited.”

Mischief floats across his features.

“Bacon cheeseburger?” 

“With cheddar and extra fries.” She bits on her bottom lip. “And, if you’re real nice about it, I might just bake you a cherry pie, too.”

He chuckles, all awe and gratitude.

“Kid,” he breathes out, clasping the side of her face, “you’re fucking perfect.”

“I know.”

“And a brat.” he adds, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but I’m your favorite brat.” She snorts and wraps an arm around him. “C’mon, old man. Let’s get you inside.”

“Excuse me,” Dean gasps, jutting his chin, “did you just call me old?”

“Well, aren’t you like a hundred years old now?”

“Oh, that’s it. Y/N, you better run.”

And she does.

She just sprints away from him and heads for the house before he even has the chance to think about grabbing her, crazy laughter escaping her, and he’s left behind to watch, watch as the crimson light dances across her skin and the flannel sways with the wind, and he feels, maybe for the first time since he returned from the hunt, he feels at peace.

She should wear his clothes more often.

The next time she’s dressed in one of Dean’s flannels, it’s soaked in his blood.

The wound’s nothing but a deep cut across his stomach, just another scar he’ll have to add to the map of his skin, but the what ifs it brought along with it are still there, trapped into the blood that’s smeared across her skin. 

The sight of her breaks his heart.

“Okay,” she breathes out, sterilized needle in hand. “Okay, I’m gonna need you to lay down for a minute.”

“Y/N,” Sam says softly, placing a hand on her shoulder, “you should go get changed. I can do this.”

“Yeah, no. As pissed as I am at Dean right now,” she throws a pointed look his way, “I don’t hate him enough to let you patch him up.”

Sam’s jaw drops.

Dean snorts.

“What are you talking about? I’m-”

“Awful at patching other people up.” She cuts him off, head titled the left. “Sam, I love you, but my left side looks like a frigging Picasso painting because I trusted those gigantic hands of yours.”

“That is so –you know what?” Sam groans, furrowing his brows in a scowl. “You’re a horrible human being.”

And Dean might be in pain and worried about Y/N and how mad at him she is, but he still laughs a gruff laugh at his brother’s childish pout and smirks when the man rolls his eyes.

“You think this is funny?”

“Oh, Sammy. I think it’s hilarious.”

Sam’s lips press into a thin line.

He clenches his jaw.

“Whatever. If she tries to stab you with that needle while I’m in the shower, don’t come to me for help,” he deadpans and disappears behind the bathroom’s door.

Silence stretches in the room until it’s too much for the eldest Winchester to handle. He looks at Y/N, who’s examining the blood-stained flannel, something dark settling over her features.

He clears his throat, quietly.

She looks up.

“Uh. You’re not gonna stab me with that, are you?”

“That depends.” She takes a seat next to him. “You gonna tell me what the hell were you thinking?”

“That I needed to stop that son of a bitch before he could get away.”

“On your own.” 

Dean swallows, hard.

“You and Sam weren’t there. And I needed-”

“You could have died.” She says and it might be just a whisper, broken and a bit scraped, but there’s anger burning its edges and it makes his stomach plummet. 

“You keep saying what you needed to do but you never…” She shakes her head and looks up at him. “What about what I need?”

He blinks.

“What you-”

“I need you to be okay.” 

It’s a simple statement, frustrated but honest, and despite everything they’ve been through together, it still catches him off guard, how there’s someone out there other than his brother that really cares about him, someone that wants him, needs him to be okay.

“You just… For God’s sake, Dean, you’re always so hell bent on keeping us safe and it’s never occurred to you that maybe we want to do the same thing? I mean, you’re,” she huffs out air through her nose, not quite a laugh, “you’re my best friend. And I know it’s the life and I’ve lost people, but I don’t think I can…”

She’s struggling now, all the things she wants to say stuck in the back of her throat, so he wraps his fingers around her wrist and tugs.

“Hey,” he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “m’ not going anywhere anytime soon.” A small smile. “You know that, right?”

She purses her lips, something he can’t quite put his finger on flashing across her face.

And then-

“Yeah,” she tells him, soft hand covering his, “yeah, I know.”

Dean smiles at that, and lets her get back to work, storing her tender smile into memory.

And when she crawls into his bed later that night and tangles herself with him, chest pressed against his back and hands flattened against his stomach, he doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t pull away. Instead, he holds her and lets her hold him, trying to ignore that there, in the way she’s tucked against him and keeps him close, there he thinks he can find a home.

He dreams of warm smiles and plaid flannels until he falls asleep.

She’s making pancakes again.

For the past two weeks, Dean wakes up to find Y/N making pancakes in Rufus’ kitchen, dressed in his flannels while classic rock music plays in the background.

She’s doing it for him, he knows, tries to distract him from the fact he’s got a broken leg and the Leviathans are out there taking over the world, one person at a time, and even though he’d normally mind, he doesn’t even remember the last time someone tried to do something for him.

Her tenderness warms his heart.

“Morning there, cupcake.” She smiles when she sees him entering the kitchen with his crutches.

A groan.

Eyes narrowed the size of half-dollars.

“Y/N, how many times have we talked about this?”

“Plenty.” She shrugs as she places a plate in front of him. “But you know me, I’d do anything to piss you off.” 

“Uh-huh.”

“Nice bedhead, by the way.” She smirks, ruffling his hair.

“You’re such a brat.”

“Yeah, yeah, you love me.” She gloats, all mischief and playfulness. “Eat up. And be quiet, I got to finish this book, or I might actually die.”

He laughs at that, surprising even himself, and watches as she gets lost into the pages of unknown kingdoms and noble heroes.

And the world around him is crumbling down, slowly and surely, but when she  looks up at him and smile, a smile of love and sunshine, he can’t bring himself to care.

And he knows.

He’s in love.

Dean rarely admits he’s scared.

It’s something he’s learnt to consider a weakness, ever since he was a kid, but the feeling’s almost always there. It’s there in moments of great danger and moments of stagnation, it’s there in the middle of the battle field and in the punchline of a joke.

It’s there no matter what he does because he always knows that everything can be taken away from him in the blink of an eye.

Tonight’s different though.

Tonight, he’s not scared because he’ll be going on a suicide mission in the morning.

Tonight, he’s scared because he has something to lose.

And that hurts twice as much.

“You’re back.” Y/N’s soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts as her figure springs into view, clad in one of his flannels.

“Yeah, Cas… He zapped me back a while ago.”

She hums and climbs next to him on the hood, handing him a bottle of beer.

“Things are bad, aren’t they?”

He doesn’t say anything.

Her bottom lip wobbles.

“Hey,” he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull her to him, “we’ll figure this out.” A temple kiss. “We always do.”

He’s pretty sure she doesn’t believe him, but she still nods and plants a kiss on his shoulder, grip tightening around him.

For a minute, they just hold and see and feel, breathing in air that’s dusted with their secrets, and when it becomes too much Dean lets himself believe that maybe it’s not too late. He lets himself live in a world where they can still have this, they can have tonight, and he can kiss her and make love to her like he’s dreamt about for months, no matter what happens.

But he can’t.

He can’t be selfish, can’t give her a part of him and take a part of her, only to take it all away in the morning. He’s not doing that.

“Sam told me about the plan.” She whispers after a while. “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Dean-”

“You just have to stick to it, Y/N.” he says and it’s a bit harsher than he intended it.

“Even if it gets you killed?” she implores, unable to keep the venom from her voice as she pulls away. “Because none of us knows what’ll happen once you stab that son of a bitch.”

And he wishes he could lie to her, wishes he could tell her everything she needs to hear, smile and say it’s going to be okay, that he’s going to be okay, but nothing’s ever that simple in his life.

So, he sighs and runs a hand over his face, mumbling a guilty I know under his breath.

“Screw the plan then. We’ll do something else. We can figure it out.”

“God, kid, I wish but that’s –that’s the only way this can work.” He reaches out for her hand. “Sides,” he clasps his free hand on the side of her face, “you know me. I’m not good at staying dead.”

“Don’t joke about that.”

He laughs, but it’s brittle and wrecked.

“Okay, just…” Ragged breath. “Promise me something.”

“Dean-”

“No,” he swallows, hard, squeezing his eyes shut for just a second. “Just… No matter what happens tomorrow, I need you to keep going.”

“Dean, you can’t... You can’t possibly ask that from me.”

“Well, I just did, so... Sucks for you, I guess.”

He expects her to smile, but she doesn’t. 

She just clamps her teeth together, eyes shining with unshed tears and if his heart didn’t break before, it does now.

“Can you just-”

“Try my damnedest not to die, yeah, I got that.”

She chuckles, soft but sad.

“You got a horrible sense of humor, D.”

“Hmmm. Listen.” He presses his forehead against hers. “If we make it out of this alive, you and I are going out. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go, I swear to God.”

She smiles.

It’s a small smile, hopeless and fades quickly, but it’s something.

“Anywhere I wanna go?” she repeats, feigning surprise. “I dunno, D. M’ sensing an ulterior motive here.”

He smirks.

“Always knew you were a smart one, kid.” He says and kisses her forehead, letting his lips linger against warm skin.

And he almost believes they have a chance. 

Dean loses her a day later.

He’s standing next to Dick and the darkness’s sneaking up on him from every corner, but he still sees her, sees how she bursts through the door and screams for him, how she kicks and punches and yells for Sam to let her go, let her leave, until he’s swallowed whole by blackness and there’s nothing else he can see.

When he wakes up, he’s in Purgatory, but can still hear her screams, can taste her pain on his tongue and breaks, he breaks, when he realizes how much he broke her.

He’s never felt so empty.

Y/N has changed.

She’s beautiful, of course, as beautiful as he remembers, but she looks so tired, that usual brightness of hers gone, leaving nothing but scars and heartache behind.

He hasn’t seen her since Purgatory.

Granted, he wants to call the minute he gets out, but he doesn’t know if there’s a point, doesn’t know if she wants him back in her life or if she’s moved on with someone better, someone who wears his heart on his sleeve and doesn’t hunt monsters for a living.

So, he had avoids that phone call until he can’t avoid it anymore and has to take the leap.

And, God, she is not happy to hear from him.

Instead, she sounds angry and terrified and broken, and even though he suspects it’s because she can’t really believe it’s him, it still stings a little.

She agrees to meet with him though, and that’s more than he could have asked for.

“You’re here.” She says when she sees him, but there’s no emotion there, no spark in her eyes.

And still, Dean wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and never let her go again, because he wants to believe, needs to believe, he can still fix this, fix her, just like she’d done with him, over a hundred times.

But he can’t, so-

“Kid,” he smiles, taking a tentative step forward “s’ good to see you.”

“Don’t call me that.” She spats, biting on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’m going to rip you to fucking shreds for using him against me, I swear to God.”

His smile drops immediately.

“Hey,” he mumbles, holding his hands up in surrender, “it’s really me, kid, I swear.”

“I said-”

“I know, I know. Alright.” He shakes his head a little. “Do you have that silver knife I got you for your birthday?”

She scowls, but reaches for her back pocket and hands it over, watching as he drags it along his skin until it bleeds.

“See?” he gloats, a smirk tugging at his lips.

She rolls her eyes and throws him a flask.

“Drink up.”

He obeys.

Nothing happens.

“Y/N-”

“One more thing.” She says and, before he knows it, she’s pouring a bottle of Vorax over him.

“Oh, c’mon.” he whines, rubbing a hand over his face. “Was that really necessary?”

But she’s not listening. She’s too busy staring at him, that frigid expression that had hurt him so much melting away piece by piece to reveal her, that warmth that’s been missing all along.

“Are you-”

“Me?” he chuckles a little under his breath. “Yeah. S’ really me, kid.”

“But you –this can’t be… I looked everywhere.” She chokes off, the bottle falling from her hands. “You were dead.”

He smiles, timid and fragile and just a tad cheeky.

“Well. I told ya I’m not good at staying dead, didn’t I?”

She laughs then, actually laughs, mad and relieved and real until it’s all laced with tears, bitter and sweet, and she has to reach for him, let him wrap her into his arms and grip like he’s her only lifeline, the only thing she’s got left.

And he takes her in, breathes in every inch of softness, and lets his fingers trace along the familiar pattern of the flannel she’s wearing, painted in green and blue, finally feeling alive again.

“If you ever do this to me again-”

He grins and cups her face, titling her head up.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ll rip me to fucking shreds.” He thumbs away her tears. “Which, if you ask me, sounds kind of sexy.”

She cracks a small smile.

It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“A year later and your humor still sucks.” She smirks, nuzzling his jaw. “I guess some things never change.”

God, he hopes so.

He kisses her two weeks later.

He’s been thinking about it for days, struggling to find the right things to say, the right thing to do, wondering what it would feel like, how she’d feel like, but she always does something to make him fall a bit deeper, a bit harder in love with her, and his words end up stuck at the back of his throat, barely fighting their way out.

And then it happens.

He finds her cooking in Rufus’ kitchen one night, clad in the same red and blue flannel she’d been wearing that day that changed everything for him, seemingly a lifetime ago.

For a moment, he’s back at Bobby’s scrap yard with her on that beautiful evening and everything’s a bit simpler because the old man’s still alive and Cas isn’t stuck in Purgatory and his own brother hasn’t given up on him yet.

And he knows it’s a beautiful memory, but it doesn’t make him as homesick as he thought it would, because she is still there.

She’s always been there.

He realizes then, that all the losses he’s suffered, all the grief and the heartache, don’t hurt him anymore, not as much as they used to, anyway, because he has her.

He has her as a friend and as a hunting partner, has her as a childhood memory, as the person he’s been in love with his entire life without even knowing, as the only one who can work with him to make this work.

He has her in more ways than one, more ways than he deserves or could have ever dreamt of and though he doesn’t understand why, he’s thankful.

And he’s tired of wasting time.

So, he gathers every ounce of courage he has, walks right next to her and tugs at her hand.

“D.,” she smiles, turning around to face him, “I didn’t hear you co-”

The rest of the words are lost when he presses his lips against hers. He takes it slow, gives her time to pull away, space in case she doesn’t want this, doesn’t want him, but she clutches at his shirt, pulls him closer and he growls and wraps his arm around her waist, holding her, really holding her, for the first time in his life.

When he draws back, he presses his forehead against hers, his hands never leaving her.

“Please, tell me this was okay.” He says, and if he wasn’t so caught up in the moment, he’d be embarrassed by how absolutely wrecked he sounds.

She laughs, delighted but scraped, cheeks pink and lips swollen.

“That was –yeah, that was more than okay, obviously, but-”

“Good.” he smirks, his large hands cupping her face. “Because I own you a date.”

“Fucking finally.” She breathes out and kisses him, lips soft and demanding and perfect against his own, and it’s not too long before he thanks God Sam’s out for the night and takes her to the couch, mumbling are you sures and Jesus, you’re perfects into her skin.

Dean takes his time to make love to her that night, slow and sweet, no matter how desperately he wants her. He thrusts into her leisurely, lets himself see, trace and feel every inch of her body, hear her soft whimpers and the short intakes of breath. He whispers words of love and soft praises, tells her how beautiful she is, how he’s never wanted anyone as much as he wants her, and takes everything she has to give, gives everything she wants to take, until there’s nothing left anymore.

And when she lays naked on the floor next to him afterwards, stomach pressed against the blanket he’s laid, his lips trailing up and down her back, his eyes flicker over the stolen flannel that’s thrown next to the fireplace and he laughs.

“What?” she asks, the smile audible in her voice.

“Nothing, just,” he presses a kiss on the back of her neck, “promise me you’ll never stop wearing my clothes.”

She chuckles, rolls into her back then and wraps her arms around him.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” She pecks his jaw. “Oh, and.”

“Hmm?”

She looks into him, looks into his eyes like she can see everything, like she can read his soul.

“I love you, too.”

Dean smiles then because, in that moment, tangled in the sheets with her, he knows that no matter what happens, no matter what life chooses to throw his way, he’ll always have her, the girl that steals his clothes and makes pancakes to make him smile. 

And that’s enough.

Tags: @ravengirl94 @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @trexrambling @percywinchester27 @pickupthatamulet @hannahindie @emilywritesaboutdean @atari-writes @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @dancingalone21 @atc74 @juanitadiann @becominglionhearted @imagining-supernatural @impala-dreamer @becs-bunker @tiny-friggin-human @polina-93 @mandilion76 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @wordstothewisereaders @sgarrett49 @myrabbitholetoneverland @iwriteaboutdean @kathaswings @thevioletthourr @spngeronimo @captainemwinchester @ruprecht0420 @mogaruke @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @winchestersnco @jayankles @winchesters-flannels @wellthatsrandomkek @akshi8278 @escabell @keepcalmandcarryondean @a-glass-of-orange-juice @ravenangel33 @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @holahellohialoha @castianityislife02 @sinistersaltqueen @ultrafandomcat @easelweasel @carryonmyswansong

[metal-is-life091]

I was tagged by @iamnightbreed and @hetfieldswhore . Thanks guys ❤️

Rules

✰ answer the questions given to you by the tagger

✰ write eleven questions of your own

✰ tag eleven people

I was tagged twice so I have two sets of questions. Set one:

1. Are you a fan of horror movies/fiction?

Not really, when I was 12-13 I used to really like watching youtubers play horror games and somehow I never got scared. Now if I watch anything horror I get really paranoid afterwards to the point where I can’t even sleep.

2. If you could hear any metal band cover any classic rock song, which band would it be and which song?

Maybe Metallica covering an AC/DC song or something.

3. Do you/have you ever smoked marijuana?

Nope. I have always been pretty curious and wanted to try it, but Romania is a post-communist country, so drugs are pretty hard to find as far as I know (or maybe I just don’t have the right connections).

4. Did you have a pet as a child that you adored and still feel nostalgic about?

I had a beautiful mioritic shepard named Diana that I really loved.

5. If you could relive the last 5 years, would you do anything differently?

Maybe start playing guitar earlier. This way I would have 5 years of guitar playing under my belt by now which would be great.

6. What’s your worst fear that you know is irrational but just can’t shake (assuming you have one…)?

Fear of needles. It’s not the pain that makes me uncomfortable, but the sight of a needle piercing my skin makes me feel sick.

7. If you had unlimited funds, what is the most selfish thing you would use them for?

I would probably go to guitar stores and try not to buy half of their stock haha.

8. What’s your favorite way to relax after a stressful day?

Playing guitar: jamming to Metallica songs, writing my own riffs and all that good stuff.

9. What is the worst movie you’ve ever really enjoyed in spite of yourself?

Fifty Shades of Grey.

10. Do you enjoy reading and if so what’s your favorite genre?

I hardly ever read, but when I do I read biographies or fanfiction

11. What is the earliest band obsession you can remember having?

Pendulum. Rob Swire is such a babe.

Set two:

1. Fav subgenre?

Thrash metal.

2. Fav drummer?

Mikkey Dee.

3. Lyric or lyrics that speak to you?

“So please excuse me while I tend to how I feel” - Hero of the Day, Metallica

4. Fav classic metal band?

Black Sabbath

5. Fav thrash band?

Metallica

6. Did any of the bands you listen to save your life (cause Tallica saved mine lol)

Yes, Metallica helped me through some really difficult times in my life and helped me discover my passion for music (can’t imagine what my life would be like without discovering it)

7. Fav riff

Oooh it’s so hard to pick ‘cause there are so many great riffs out there, but I suppose the intro riff in Orion would be my favorite

8. Fav bass solo

Anesthesia Pulling Teeth (bass solo take one haha)

9. Would you get a tattoo of your fav band

I don’t think I would get a tattoo of the guys ‘cause I think having a tattoo of someone’s face is kinda weird, but I would definitely like to get something related to Metallica

10. Do you read fics

Yes, as much as I hate to admit it haha

11. Did you meet any of your fav bands

Sadly no. I tried to look for Metallica during my stay in Turin, but I had no luck. I heard they arrived in Turin the day of the concert and they headed straight for the venue.

Here are the questions:

Here are the questions:

If you could pick any three bands (doesn’t matter if they’re still together) to play at a festival, what would be your dream line-up?

If you could pick any guitarist to teach you to play guitar, who would you pick?

Do you have/want any tattoos?

Do you play/want to play any instrument?

If you could visit any place, where would you go first?

What would you do if you randomly met your favorite band member on the street?

Is there an album or song that changed your life? If so which is it?

Fav era James?

Fav drink?

What was the best concert you went to?

If you had a time machine what time would you go to and what would you do?

I tag: @scarletsue , @ironwhat , @masterofpuglets , @jaymzcatfield , @imcreepingdeath999 , @twerkhammett , @rebelsoundsgood , @flyinghetfield , @candyhetfield , @defenderz-of-the-faith , @betchfaceee and anyone who else who wants to do this!