#two of cups jack x eric

[stxrliasfics]

this is so jeric

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 1: I Once Had a Different Path

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader "Sugar"

Summary: It's only been a year.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: T, discussions of a bad relationship, drinking, little bit of angst, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Welcome back to Westworld Whiskey! Almost the moment I finished Cognitive Dissonance the idea for this fic leapt into my head, and I've been trying to figure it all out since! The outpouring of love for this story makes me unreasonably giddy, and I am so excited to share what Jack and Sugar have been up to.

This story takes place exactly a year after the events of Cognitive Dissonance. Honestly, the Westworld timeline is confusing as heck, and so much happens that the public wouldn't know or see, so in terms of the show it's taking place after the fall of the Delos theme parks early in season 3. I'm taking some liberties with how Westworld and the world around it works, but we should all have a good time because of it. For those not as familiar with later seasons, the "real world" takes place in 2053 in a modern futuristic setting.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The glow of sun on your back, baking into your skin and spreading golden through your limbs, makes today feel like a really freaking good day. You’re wearing your favorite outfit, your shoes are comfy on your feet, and the air is just warm enough that you don’t have to wear a heavy jacket. When the door to the coffee shop schicks open, the uplifting scent of dark roast and cinnamon sugar practically dances on your tongue.

Strike that. A fantastic day.

Lacey is already at her favorite sitting spot, a low table with two high-backed armchairs jammed in a corner far from the automated baristas and hiss of milk froth. She catches sight and waves, bright peony pink in her chiffon dress. Curled in the chair she’s akin to neapolitan ice cream, and just as cool when she gestures to your waiting cup. Not before jumping up to give you a hug, though.

“I’m so glad to see you! It’s been too long!” she exclaims, a sentiment you’ve often heard from long-lost acquaintances but Lacey puts every ounce of honesty behind it. You give her another squeeze before settling in your proffered chair, cradling the thick retro ceramic mug in your hands.

“Well you’ve been pretty busy, Mrs. Hughes,” you sing-song, back, knocking your shoes off so you can settle more comfortably. “How was the honeymoon? The photos were gorgeous.”

You descend into vacation chatter, looking at photos on Lacey’s phone and laughing over whatever little anecdote she shares. The coffee buzzes pleasantly in your veins, bittersweet on your tongue. The sun streams in the café window and drapes warmth across your shoulders again. 

It feels like the perfect day.

"How's married life treating you?"

Lacey smiles, bright enough to crinkle her whole face, and the radiance of it blooms in your chest.

"Not much different really, which is probably for the best," she says, taking another sip of her coffee. You're prepared to ask her something else, some follow-up question, when she reaches over and squeezes your hand.

"You look really good, too," she says, her eyes softening. "I know it was hard, with the wedding and everything going on with Eric at the same time, but...you look so much happier."

Your throat tightens, but it's a welcome feeling for once.

"I am. Much happier."

She’s right. It was hard. Once you were alone with your thoughts, your decision made, all of the terrifying reality had crashed down on you. You’d sobbed in your car, half curled in the driver's seat, trying to will yourself to go inside and face Eric. 

It didn’t get any better once you finally did. The shouting, the accusations, the tears, and shockingly a chair kicked against the wall so hard it left an ugly dent. He never laid a hand on you, but the anger raked across your pounding heart, the cruelty sinking into your flesh like teeth. You grabbed just enough of your things to escape, his bellowing voice following you as your hands shook.

What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving?

What the hell did Lacey say to you?

Are you fucking serious? 

After all I’ve done for us?

I can’t believe you’re being so selfish.

What has gotten into you?

The words echoed between your ears while you laid in your motel room bed, too raw and ashamed to call anyone for a place to stay. You woke stiff and silent and achingly alone, and regret welled in your throat.

Were you being stupid? Were you giving up the life you were supposed to have?

But then the day passed, hours spent driving aimlessly with the radio on low, long walks on bike paths lost in your thoughts. And while failure burned behind your eyes, the dreaded whispers of why didn’t you try harder creeping into your brain, the vice grip in your chest began to unwind. A lightness you hadn’t felt in years began lifting your shoulders, your head, even the corners of your mouth. 

The neverending ache was finally gone. 

You slept better that night, and in the morning you called Lacey. She drove out to pick you up, her tight embrace ushering in a new flood of tears. 

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry,” is all she says at first, rocking you back and forth like when you were both young and upset about a schoolyard fight. Then more pointed questions, her face hardening as you detail the slow descent into unhappiness you’d been hiding from her for years.

“He never did anything bad. I just…I couldn’t…” You struggled to voice all the fears that still lingered until she squeezed your hands.

“He didn’t have to treat you badly to not treat you the way you wanted. And if he can’t change, or doesn’t want to change, then this isn’t right for you.”

A fresh wave of tears followed the well-worn tracks down your face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She rubbed at your face with a crumpled tissue.

“Everything is going to be okay.’

It took a few days before the tornado of Lacey’s true feelings pulled to the forefront. Later she’d tell you she barely kept her cool while you cried in her living room, Alan instructing her to punch it out at the gym rather than overwhelm you. But barely settled into your temporary housing, she rang you in the middle of the day. 

“We’re getting your stuff.”

“What…?”

“Eric is at work, Alan did a drive-by and checked. He’s waiting with the truck. I’m picking you up and we’re getting your things, then we’re going to leave your key on the table and never go back.”

She was chatting in low tones with Alan when you answered the door, face lined with concern. The stern expression melted into dismay when she took in your tired eyes and sloped shoulders.

“That motherfucker should be ashamed of himself for doing this to you,” she spits out, crushing you into a hug that almost suffocates you.

“Lace, I was the one…” you tried to say, but she cut you off with a sharp chop of her hand.

“I’ve got plenty to say about Eric and what I think about him when everything settles, but I’ll tell you this - I fucking hate him for making you feel like this. And we’re going to get your things and never see him again.”

So you did, emptying your drawers and shared closet - always less room allocated for you than him. Lacey shuffled through mail and tossed in anything that had your name on it in a bankers box. Later you’d have to disentangle your lives, but for now you could take solace in having your toiletries back, and placing your photos and family heirlooms safe in Alan’s truck. He helped move your grandmother’s hope chest into the truck bed, and silently drove as Lacey let you lean on her shoulder. Your childhood stuffed dog sat in your lap, and its gentle weight gave you a moment of relief.

Eric’s shouting through the phone later that night sliced across your chest, but only for a brief moment. You’d left the ring on the counter, and that thankfully shut him up.

The following months had been a blur of canceled engagements, severed services, broken agreements and bitter voicemails. Eric tried a few times to entice you back, forgiving you for having cold feet and wanting to get dinner, coffee, to talk. Your heart tugged at the softness in his voice.

We can still make this work.

But then the cold reality of the situation crept in. He wanted the picture-perfect life he thought he deserved. He wanted to have everything without working for it. And most of all, he wanted you to be grateful for him giving you everything he thought you deserved. Not what you wanted, but what he decided you should want.

That was never going to change.

Lacey and Alan helped where they could, but you didn’t want to taint the excitement of their upcoming nuptials. So you told them you were fine and signed a lease on a modest apartment while you picked out the barbs of Eric’s latest outburst. You picked out a dress for her wedding and were secretly grateful that she didn’t make you a bridesmaid. You didn’t think you’d be able to keep it together in front of all her family and friends. You drank too much champagne and considered a tumble with one of Alan’s single friends but instead threw up in your hotel room toilet and woke up fully clothed on top of the bed. The first thought that greeted you once you could see through your headache was, “Thank fuck I’m not getting married.”

The giggles were sharp against your sore stomach, but with that you finally felt something in you begin healing.

“...and I know I wasn’t around as much as I could have been, and it kills me that you were going through it alone, and on my bachelorette for crying out loud, how insensitive was that…”

Lacey’s diatribe brings you back to the café and your cooling coffee and Lacey’s earnest grip on your hand. You shush her with a few squeezes.

“You were a big part of why I finally got up the courage to leave. And I am so fucking glad I did,” you say, earning another smile that glitters with morning light. 

“I think someone else also had some influence,” Lacey says, looking pointedly over her cup as she takes an innocent sip. Your brow furrows briefly before the implication of her tone slams into your chest.

Jack.

“That was a year ago…holy shit, today,” Lacey exclaims, twisting her wrist to verify on her smart watch. 

“Wow, yeah,” you say weakly, swirling the dregs of coffee in your cup.

Yet again, Lacey isn’t wrong. Jack did open your eyes to a world that could offer the care and comfort you were yearning for. But you’d been forced to push memories of him to the back of your mind. 

Weeks after the breakup, with Lacey lying on your brand new bed in your half-empty apartment, you told her about your weekend with the suave yet gentle cowboy. She interjected with excited “I knew it!” and “Holy shit yes!” exclamations as you recounted the cattle run, the innocent lie, the dinner, and the lust-filled night (heavily redacted, met with disappointment). Once the story was told you laid beside each other, silence stretching until she finally said, “I’m so happy Jack helped you realize you deserve more.”

So were you.

“Did you ever think about booking another weekend?” Lacey asks, placing her cup down so she can more fully watch you, playful smirk making you roll your eyes. “I mean, before all the stuff in the news about them.”

Guests injured in the park. A veil of silence and NDAs falling over Delos. An uncertain return.

You chew on your answer for a moment. It’s easy to chalk up not going back to the current state of the park, but in recent weeks you had been thinking more and more about Jack. Maybe it was some old movie you caught late at night, horses riding across gloriously wide plains. A cowboy hat or two you swore you saw in a crowd, only to be tricked by perspective and light. Strong, broad silhouettes that reminded you of large hands, a clever mouth, a warm embrace.

Tell her the truth.

“No,” you finally sigh, putting your cup down a little firmly.

You couldn’t.

“Why not?”

“It’s all fantasy, I’m not into that more than once.”

You couldn’t bear to see him again.

“Not even a little more fantasy with a certain cowboy?” Her eyes drop to your left hand, and you realize you’ve been slowly rotating the turquoise band she gave you on your ring finger. When you returned the engagement ring it became a comforting weight replacing what you’d given up. You fold them instead under Lacey’s watchful eye.

“It’s not real,” is the excuse you give.

He’s not real, and you can’t have him.

Lacey shrugs, looking at the time again and gathering up her coat.

“Real enough that you changed your whole life over it,” she observes, not unkindly. You stand up as she gathers her purse.

“It was a perfect weekend. Going back would have ruined it.” 

Him not remembering you would have ruined it.

Lacey sighs but acquiesces, giving you a hug and confirming your next coffee date in a couple weeks. They’ve become a sweet schedule you look forward to more than you thought.

Once she breezes out the door, all summer blush and cosmopolitan chic, you join the line to get a coffee to go. The machine at work is dismal, and you’d much rather spend the four dollars. You enter your order on the cool blue holoscreen and step to the side to wait. The warmth of a good conversation bubbles in your veins, a beam of sunlight caressing your back. Even the brief memory of Jack you allow - his hands soft on your skin, the tender brush of his nose on your cheek, how safe you felt in his arms - fills your heart to bursting. A smile plumps your cheek. Today really is an exceptional day.

But oddly enough, your toes are wet. 

Looking down, you can’t help but let out an exasperated, “Oh c’mon you idiot,” as you realize you didn’t put your shoes back on, and have now stepped in someone’s spilled beverage. So maybe not the perfect day, but you’re close enough to home to swing by and grab a new pair of socks. Shaking your head, you spin on your heel to retrieve your abandoned shoes.

You could have done it a breath sooner, or later, and never been the wiser. Or you could have kept your damn shoes on - do we live in a barn, your mother’s voice echoes in your ears - and avoided the issue in the first place. But today, on an exceptionally perfect day, you turn and take a step just as someone passes behind you, propelling your frame into their broader form. You almost bounce, but the stranger catches you by your shoulders, large firm palms wrapping around your biceps.

“Whoa there,” a deep voice says, laced with a southern drawl. It tickles something in your brain, neurons firing at memories close to the surface. 

“Shit, sorry,” you mumble, stepping back to apologize properly to the man you almost bowled over. As your eyes begin their ascent the voice is clearer, sharp as a bullwhip crack.

“You okay Sugar?”

Your breath freezes in your throat, eyes snapping to the man’s face. He swims in your vision before the soft curl of his brown hair, the delicate trim of his mustache, the hawkish curve to his nose comes into focus. If that wasn’t enough for your short-circuiting brain to manage, his plush lips part in concern, deep chocolate eyes darting across your face.

Jack?

“I - oh,” he says, his grip tightening on your shoulders. You wrench back, stumbling a half step away, still locked on his face.

Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack

People are looking at you now, agape and struggling to pull in a full breath, your brain tumbling like Alice down the rabbit hole.

Can’t be.

Jack.

Not real.

Jack.

How?

Jack.

“I can explain…”

Then the whole world shifts, and you’re falling.

NEXT

[writings-by-fairy]

Friday Night

Fandom: Boy Meets World

Pairing(s): Eric Matthews x Jack Hunter, side Cory Matthews x Shawn Hunter

Words: 1,590 (more coming at some point)

Rating: M

Warnings: sexual content

Summary: Eric and Jack go to a college party and one of them gets a little crazy...

11:30pm Deep breath. Toss. Bounce. And it’s in! Jack made the winning cup in their intense game of cup pong. Eric couldn’t help but smile despite losing: seeing his boyfriend smile and laugh with the others made his heart swell. Jack and Shawn did their handshake while others congratulated them on their victory.

“Well Matthews duo, rematch?” Shawn smirked at the two across the table. Cory and Eric looked at each other narrowing their eyes in a secret communication.

Cory stepped forward, “bring it.”

{}{}{}

9:15pm “Come on, Eric!” Cory whined through the phone. “It will be fun, Shawn and I can even give you a ride.”

Eric sighed; he planned on staying home this Friday night in his cozy dorm with a cozy blanket and a super hot boyfriend. Him and Jack had a scary movie night every Friday where they would cuddle on the bed until eventually the movie was forgotten.

“Fine. But only for a couple hours max.” Eric couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Cory and Shawn screaming, he is pretty sure he heard the phone drop at least twice.

“Okay, okay,” Cory started once they calmed down. “Well, we will pick you up at 10!” They said their good byes and Eric sighed; don’t get him wrong, he loved partying and people but he loved his boyfriend more. Throughout high school, Eric would party pretty much every weekend but fast forward to senior year of college, he only went out pretty much on special occasions.

The sound of the key in the door startled him from his thoughts, Jack was back from his 6-9 economics class.

Jack swung the door open to reveal he was soaking wet, “It’s raining.” His teeth chattering as the rain began to grow cool against his skin.

Eric’s pupils dilated. Jack’s hair was a mess, his wavy hair showing and sticking up in a million places. His shirt, which he cut the bottom off because it was too long but ended up making it a little too short, clung to his every muscle and curve. His nipples looked as if they were about to cut through the shirt and all Eric wanted to do was kiss Jack while teasing his-

“Eric! Are you even listening?”

“What…oh yeah…yeah”

“What was the last thing I said?” Silence. “That’s what I-“ Eric cut Jack off by grabbing the back of his head and pulling him in for a kiss. Jack gasped in surprise but soon brought his hands up to cup Eric’s face. Eric pulled away and pushed Jack’s book bag off while pinning him to the door with his body.

“Eric…Eric,” Jack’s pleas fell silent on Eric’s ear as he only started to trail kisses down Jack’s neck. Eric pulled the wet shirt up to his collarbone and held it there as a silent command for the other to hold it there. Jack shakily moved his hand to hold the shirt while the other hand made its way to Eric’s hair.

Eric stared at Jacks nipples before rubbing his thumb over them causing Jack to moan and roll his head back. “Oh Eric…” Eric took this as a sign to put his mouth on Jack, he started by sucking a hickey at the base of the next and leaving a trail down to his nipple where he began to suck and bite.

“Eric…more…” Jack began to absentmindedly roll his hips up for more but receiving little relief. Eric’s thigh barley providing any help.

Eric pulled away, he looked at Jack in awe. He was still holding the shirt right where Eric told him too. “Okay, if you think I am not doing enough, you can continue to hump my thigh like a little desperate slut.” Jack stared for a second with his jaw open in shock.

He looked to argue with himself in his head: one half of him waiting for Eric to say just kidding while the other is coming to terms with Eric’s order. The latter won.

He looked down with red spreading from his chest up to his face, he felt a little humiliated about this. Oh but did he love how Eric treated him in times like this. He began to move his hips in an experimenting way, switching angles and pace until he found one he liked. He gripped Eric’s shoulder and rutted his hips like a dog in heat.

“Good boy.” Jack’s legs nearly gave when Eric called him that, hips stuttering a little. Eric resumed teasing Jack’s nipples by rolling them between his fingers making Jack’s back arch.

Jack’s pace began to falter and switch up, “Eric…please…cl-cl-close.” Jack’s voice was raspy and whiny now. Eric smirked and grabbed Jack’s hips in a bruising grip holding him to the door. “Wha-…no, please, you can’t..” Jack’s eyes were now dilated as he looked up confused, he slowly dropped his still damp shirt.

“Ohh, look at you, you poor thing. We barely even started and you are already cock dumb.” Eric traced absent patterns on Jack’s torso before pushing him to his knees. “You first have to get me off, baby. Have to earn it.”

Jack looked up with those big, teary eyes before reaching forward to pull Eric’s pants down. He only pulled his pants to his mid thigh not bothering to waste time by his jeans off all the way. Eric grabbed Jack’s hair and his own dick, slapping Jack in the face with it a few times.

Eric sighed and let his eyes roll back into his head when he pushed his dick in Jack’s mouth. Jack looked up while taking his dick further and further. Once Eric felt Jack was comfortable, he moved his hips faster and faster making Jack’s eyes water.

“Holy shit, Jackie…” Eric groaned running both hands through Jack’s hair. That was all the warning Jack got before hot cum went down his throat. They stay like that for a minute or two, just Eric trying to calm his breathing while Jack cleans up what he can. Some of the cum trickled down the side of Jack’s mouth. Eric noticed this so he wiped it off with his thumb and shoved back in his mouth. Jack happily sucked on Eric’s finger.

Eric pulled Jack back up to his feet and tucked himself away. “Well, I would say that you earned it now.” Eric reached down and started palming Jack roughly. Jack, sensitive from being edged and horny, moaned loudly rocking his hips to meet Eric’s palm.

“Oh, can I-can-can I please cum now?” Jack squeezed his eyes shut focusing on not coming. His hands balled up in fists beside him.

“Open your eyes.” Jack looked Eric in the eyes with tears streaming down his face. “Good boy, yes you can.” Jack thanked him over and over as his hips stuttered and his mouth in a silent O. Once he came, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Jack stood there using the door as support because he knew his legs would give way when not supported. “Oh my gosh, Eric!”

Eric’s eyebrows furrowed together concerned, he pulled Jack in for a tight hug. “Oh no, was that too much? I’m sorry, you just looked so good when you walked in and it was so sudden and-“

“Eric! Shhhh, that was great.” Jack reassured him, he swore he felt the weight get lifted off Eric’s shoulders. “Now, I would love to get out of these wet and cum stained clothes.” Jack pushed his way over to his dresser, taking off his wet clothes in the process. He opened the PJ drawer only to be stopped.

“Different idea for tonight,” Eric started off slowly making Jack look at him with a suspicious look. “Cory and Shawn may have invited us to a little party tonight.”

Jack stared for a second.

“And I might have said yes.” Jack’s eyes lit up. Jack loves to party as well and sometimes begs Eric to go but usually they just end up in bed by 9 doing other things. They honestly haven’t gone in months.

“Oh. Oh my gosh. When?” Jack started rummaging through his clothes.

Eric smiled, seeing Jack happy always caused him to fell like he was floating. He slide his way behind Jack hugging him, “Cory and Shawn are picking us up at 10.”

{}{}{}

10:49pm “Eric, how do I look?”

Eric spun around to see Jack in some baggy jeans with an oversized college crew neck. He looked soft.

“Beautiful as always.”

Jack blushed, bashful my pushing Eric away. Eric was in his typical jeans with a flannel and white shirt combo. He made his way to the bag under his desk, as he picked up the bag, the sound of glass can be sound clanking together. Both shared some laughter before kissing each other softly.

They made their way down stairs out to the road where they waited for the other two to pull up. Luckily, the rain had stopped. They shared small conversation while Jack held onto Eric’s arm with his head resting on Eric’s shoulder. The fall air starting to wrap its cold hands around the two boys. Suddenly, a loud bass can be heard from the distance and to no surprise they find Cory and Shawn are the source of this sound.

The car pulls up fast and the window rolls down to reveal Shawn in the passenger seat. “You ready to get fucked up?!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

I am on AO3 as the same username if you want to check out my other works. This is on there :P Requests are open so please message me

XOXO Fairy

[winterchimez]

Beast in the Beauty - Chapter 1

pairing: profiler Hyunjae x detective f!reader 

genre & warnings: jack the ripper au, angst, violence, thriller, crime, mentions of prostitution, graphic description of death, major characters death, alcohol, some fluff

word count: 1,638

series masterlist 

“Hey! We need a coffee break!”

Eric, your best friend and partner for life (according to the man himself) dumps a whooping pile of files and documents onto your table. He puts on his signature whiny and pouty lips, then proceeds to cup his face with both of his palms while bending down onto your desk.

“Now in what trouble have you gotten yourself into this time, Sohn Youngjae.” You heartlessly replied to the young man with his full name while typing away on your typewriter, not even sparing him a glance. 

“How can you say that bestie when you’re well aware how Chief Ayden has been going on and on about me missing multiple deadlines. Thanks to him I have been pulling an all nighter for 5 days straight now. Even worse, he might extend that for another week or two.” Eric shuddered at the thought of it. 

This time you stopped what you were doing and looked straight into the young lad’s eyes. “Well Mr Sohn. It’s partially your fault for ditching your job and missing deadlines while you went partying with the juniors at the local pub.”

“Hey, someone has to give the juniors a warm welcome no? Just like how you and I started off back in the good old days.”

“Well then, I’m sorry to say that karma gets back to you when it does. So suck it up and do your job.”

Right when Eric was about to put on this cutesy big doe eyes in hopes of changing you mind, you shut the young lad down with a stern look straight to his eyes, already knowing whatever trick he was about to pull. “Nope, I’m not helping you this time.” 

Eric continues to beg and even starts bribing you with coffee and ice-cream dates, knowing damn well how you were a sucker for cafes. You chuckled internally as you knew how much of a troublemaker he was, always getting into trouble and getting his ass whooped by the Chief multiple times a month. You’re surprised he hasn’t lost his job just yet.

But you’re well aware that he puts his whole passion and heart into his job. And all of your co-workers and even the Chief himself knows that.

Despite his looks, he was one of the best detectives your unit has ever had for the past decade. He may be one of the youngest, even younger than you are, but he excels at what he does all the time.

Due to his outgoing personality, he was able to fit right into the team in no time and everyone truly enjoys his presence in the office really. 

He was the first person whom you’ve made friends with (or rather he was the one who approached you firsthand) when you started your career. You were shy and terrified at the beginning, which is to be expected working in an environment filled with your opposite sex. But somehow Eric managed to break off the ice from the get-go and made you felt at home.

The young lad, who was a year younger than you were, always treated you to the best cafe dates whenever you needed a pick-me-up because heck, this job can be draining at times.  

In no time, you both hit off as good friends, and always had each other’s backs. Along the way, you somehow begin treating him like a lost long younger brother that you’ve always wished you had. 

All of a sudden, Eric’s whines were then cut off by a deep voice coming from right behind him. 

“Get your ass up Eric, we've got work to do.”

Standing right behind your whiny friend was Ju Haknyeon, the only detective that is the same age as you were. You two immediately hit off right away in the beginning when you both first met, all thanks to his social butterfly persona.

Like Eric, he is a well-respected senior in the office, and he works directly under Chief Ayden. Hence, everyone counts on him to receive the latest news on cases to work on, or sometimes some hilarious or even embarrassing TMI’s about Chief Ayden which was what everyone in the office is most excited to hear about. 

But looking at Haknyeon’s expression today, you knew that he wasn’t here for fun and games. 

“It’s about what happened last night, isn’t it?” You questioned.

“Bingo.” Haknyeon then drops a thick pile of documents and the infamous red folder onto your desk.

You and Eric both knew what was in store for you both. It wasn’t just any red folder, it was the folder that contained all of the details in regards to the infamous case that haunted Whitechapel 20 years ago. 

“Jack The Ripper.” Eric murmured.

“Exactly. A body was found at George Yard street last night around 2 hours past midnight. The M.O. was exactly the same as how the perpetrator did so 20 years ago. There’s no doubt that there is a connection there.” Haknyeon sighed heavily as he stroked his furrowed brows. 

“So what are we gonna do now? Are we supposed to assist you in this case?” You asked the troubled young man, knowing damn well that he is definitely gonna take on this case as he works directly under Chief Ayden. 

“Not just that. Chief Ayden has instructed that we are to open up a squad to resolve this so-called Jack The Ripper 2.0 case, and the both of you will be joining the team. No questions asked.” 

You and Eric walked into Chief Ayden’s office while noticing the tension in the air. You knew how the case had deeply affected Whitechapel, and the police station you worked at was no exception. But all of you were fully aware how it has affected Chief Ayden the most.

He was part of the original cold case squad 20 years ago, and he has seen many of his subordinates leave the force for good due to the public pressure that they have faced for being unable to put the criminal behind bars. Some on the other hand went losing their minds as they were never able to fully recover from this case. 

This was a big deal. To have Whitechapel experience this terror once again was worse than having a terrible nightmare. Neither of you want to experience the devil himself in this day and age, having to play cat and mouse with the killer. 

This has to end. And you sure are determined to be able to finally catch the killer this time, finally putting an end to these chapters of horror and bringing justice to the victims from 20 years prior and from last night. 

“I’m sure detective Haknyeon has already spilled the beans on the reason both of you are being called here so let me get straight to the point. I don’t care how many all-nighters all of us are gonna pull, if there’s ever a slightest chance of evidence or clue that gets us quicker to putting the culprit behind bars then get the hell onto it quick. Put your lives on the line for this case, and I mean it for real this time. Because I sure damn well will be doing so.”  

The 3 of you immediately responded and acknowledged Chief Ayden’s instructions and all of you were ready for the next step of the job. 

“Since this is a big case, and heck we’re reopening an infamous cold case from decades ago that taunted the entire nation, I have specifically asked for back-up from the headquarters. Which means we’re doing real business this time and I'm in no way in any mood to be playing games.” 

You were stunned. From the headquarters? Your unit has hardly ever had backup from the superiors from Scotland Yard as they barely communicate and take notice of your unit in such a feared district due to the living conditions of the people here.

There have been multiple times where Chief Ayden has requested assistance from them, but many times your unit was left to their problems and all of you had to solve dozens of cold cases all on your own while dealing with the issues of having a high number of staff turnovers during the past few years. 

However, since it was the Jack The Ripper murders you figured that the headquarters had to at least have a part in this, otherwise they would be dealing with the heavy criticism and fire from the public if such a small unit like yours was left to their own accord. 

At that moment, a knock was heard from the other side of the Chief’s office door, and he gave the consent for the individual to step into the office. 

A tall light brunette male, looking around to be 180cm tall, walks into the office.

He wore the classic white long sleeved shirt that was obviously a tad bit small for him, which made it look tight and the fabric was seemingly hugging onto his well-built body. On top of his shirt sits a shoulder holster, where the individual himself stored his weapons. The detective himself was also wearing a black glove on his right hand. 

His facial features? Oh god. You were left stunned. He had deep dark brown eyes that just captivates whoever that dares to look into them. 

Also the fact that his hair was parted down to the sides right in the middle? You couldn’t help but to be in awe as you stood there taking in the sight in front of you. 

He was breathtakingly beautiful. 

The individual then wasted no time in introducing himself to the team. 

“My name is Lee Jaehyun, but I go by the name Hyunjae. It’s a pleasure to be working with you all.” 

main masterlist

[ava-achlys]

The Boyz NSFW Scenarios

Sohn Youngjae (Eric) - Kiss Me If You Can

Eric x fem! reader

Warnings: thigh fucking, unprotected sex, unrequited feelings, angst, smoking (just a lil bit sorry)

Everyone in this story is of age, let's just say you're a tad older than Eric. And yeah, can you tell I have a thing for shy Eric? I hope I didn't make it too OOC though. Also if you don't like smoking you can pretend you're just having a drink or something, I just felt like including it.

Eric had a crush on his sister's best friend. Little did he know the girl of his (wet) dreams would surprise him.

Your best friend's parents were out of town for the weekend, and she was left in charge of taking care of their house. Naturally, you were invited to stay for a sleepover, and you were excited, picking out cute outfits and games to bring with you. It's been a while since you got to hang out at their place, and you were looking forward to movie night and chilling in pajamas all day.

You ring the doorbell and a mop of pink hair greets you at the door. You blink in surprise before engulfing the boy in a tight hug. "Eric! You keep growing every time I see you~" you coo, ruffling his already messy pink hair. Eric blushes, his cheeks turning the color of his hair as he rubs the back of his neck shyly. "It's good to see you too, noona," he smiles, before yelling for his sister. The moment she came down to greet you, he ducked upstairs, uncharacteristically shy and quiet.

You hug your best friend and ask her if Eric's okay. She rolls her eyes and chuckles "He's just going through a late puberty I guess." You tilt your head, slightly confused, but you let the topic go, opting to ask about it again later. You head upstairs to her room to unpack your things, noticing that Eric's door was shut.

You two go about your day, catching up while you waited for your lunch order to be delivered. You had offered to pay for everyone's lunch, including Eric's which caused your friend to whine, saying having Eric around was going to ruin your fun. You brushed her off. Eric was a good kid, albeit a tad boisterous. Maybe he just had a lot on his mind, and you were determined to help him out. You go upstairs to tell him the food was here, but his door was locked and his music was turned up to the max.

You knocked loudly for a while, when suddenly the music stops, and you hear his feet shuffling. He opens the door a crack, his hair even messier than before, looking flushed and out of breath. "W-what is it noona?" He stammered. You smile at him, telling him his food had arrived and he was welcome to join you at the table. He gulped and nodded, saying he'd be down in a few before slamming the door shut. Again, you were confused. Did you do something wrong? You shake your head gently and go back downstairs, where your friend had already started eating her food, looking at you like a deer in headlights, and apologising around a mouthful of food. You just chuckle and start eating too.

Finally Eric arrives, padding softly to the table, dressed in an oversized sweatsuit and fuzzy unicorn slippers. You internally coo at how adorable he looks, and you can't help but reach out a hand to ruffle his locks. He beams at you as he thanks you for the food, and he digs right in. You naturally pull him into the conversation, and just like old times, all three of you are having a loud conversation, mainly the two siblings bickering and you laughing at their antics. You catch Eric's eyes and they're sparkling with joy and you're happy that he's comfortable around you again.

Evening rolls around and you get ready for a movie night with your best friend. You decide to watch the movie in her room, since she wants to try out her new projector. You change into a thin tank top, cute lacy panties and some loose pajama shorts. Your friend wolf whistles at your outfit, and you chuck a pillow at her, finally settling down to watch a new horror movie. You curl up under the blankets, shrieking and hugging each other during the jumpscares.

Eric hides away in his room after dinner, his head in his hands. He's slightly disappointed with himself, having dyed his hair your favorite shade of pink, and you hadn't said a word about it all day. Not to mention you nearly caught him jacking off before lunch. He splays out on his bed, hearing you yelp in fear from the next room, thinking about how he'd hold you close and protect you, even if he too was scared of the movie. He lets his imagination wander, thinking about how nice it would be to cuddle with you, to hold your warm hands, to rest his cheek against your hair.

Eric groans into a pillow. You never saw him as more than a kid, just your best friend's little brother, he thinks bitterly. He was glad that you bothered to include him in your activitties earlier that day, because he adored every moment spent with you. Your laugh, your smile, the way you'd pat his head affectionately. You were always so sweet to him, and he didn't want to risk this friendship. He'll take this secret to the grave, and he swears he'll try to behave as normally as possible tomorrow. For now, he decides to head downstairs for a glass of water, realising his throat was dry.

He tiptoes past his sister's room, and it's quiet, save for his sister's snoring. He's surprised that you two fell asleep so easily despite just finishing a horror movie. He shrugs and continues downstairs when he stops dead in his tracks. You were looking out the kitchen window, smoking a cigarette, your beautiful features illuminated by the soft moonlight. His throat runs even drier when he realises you're just in your lacy panties and a thin tanktop that left little to the imagination.

He gulps audibly and you turn to see him standing in the kitchen doorway, stock still. He's about to bolt back upstairs when you call his name, grabbing his wrist. He turns slowly back to you, keeping his eyes firmly on your bunny slippers. "Why are you still up, Eric?" Your soft voice snaps you out of his reverie. "J-just wanted to get some water, don't mind me," he chuckled weakly. You grow concerned, and watched him as he waddled to the fridge, downing some cold water hurriedly. He chokes on the liquid in his haste, and you rush to help him.

He stiffens as your rub your warm hands up and down his back soothingly. He bites his lips to suppress the moan bubbling in his throat, mentally willing his raging hard-on to go back down before you noticed it. "Mmmh, I'm fine, noona, t-thank you," he mumbles. You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, chastising him gently. "Be careful, Eric, that could have been dangerous," you murmured. Time seemed to stop as you both stood there in silence, your nails pleasantly caressing his scalp, and he leans into your touch. You hum as you played with his pink locks.

"I forgot to mention, you look gorgeous with this pink hair. Did you know it's my favorite shade of pink?" Eric blushes again, shaking his head, pretending he didn't know. He looks down at your lips, curved into a sweet smile just for him. "You're gorgeous, noona, can I kiss you please?" He breathes, not realising he said that out loud. His eyes widen in shock as he hears his voice betray his thoughts, slapping a hand over his mouth. You're dazed, late realization hitting you like a truck. His shyness, the locked door, messy hair, panting, and the awkward walking. Speaking of which, you glance down to see a tent in his sweatpants, and you gulp nervously.

Eric looks like he's about to cry and run away again, but you hold his hand, pulling it away from his mouth. You look into his eyes and cup his red cheeks. "Do you mean it? Do you want to kiss me?" you ask him gently. He nods slowly, shutting his eyes tight. You lean in and gently press your lips against his, eliciting a shaky moan from the boy as he nervously grips your waist. You kiss him deeply and slowly, licking into his mouth everytime he moaned. His tongue pressed against yours, and you keen at how the cold metal of his tongue piercing rubs against your lips.

You stood there, making out sweetly, when he picks you up and sits you on the counter, slotting himself between your legs. Finally you two pull apart and he rests his forehead against yours, breathing deeply. "That was..." you trail off, unsure of what to say. "-better than anything I ever dreamed of," Eric finishes, his hands fidgeting with the hem of your top. A smile creeps onto your face, and you decide to tease him. "Yeah? What else did you dream about me, baby?" Eric's breath stutters at the pet name, and he sinks down so your pussy was at his eye level, his warm hands rubbing your thighs.

You look down at him, panties getting wet with excitement. "Shall I show you noona?" He exhales, his index finger barely grazing the wet patch on your panties. His mind was running a thousand miles an hour, blood pounding in his ears. Was he about to ruin this friendship? He was about to back out and apologise but when you nodded yes, he dived right in. He kissed your folds through your panties and nudged your throbbing clit with his nose, causing you to moan. Your thighs start shaking from the anticipation and he pulls your panties off, mouth watering at the sight of your glistening pussy.

He leans back down and starts licking up your folds, sucking harshly on your clit. He laps hungrily at your pussy, sticking his tongue into your hole every now and then. You mewl at the feeling, grabbing his pink locks and he moans at the sweet taste of your juices and the way you pull his hair. His hot breath on your most sensitive parts sends shivers down your spine and you yelp when he reaches up to grab at your breasts as he continued to make out with your cunt. He thumbs your hard nipples as he fucks his tongue into you, spit and pussy juices running down his chin.

You push his face deeper into you and your other hand is clamped over your mouth, barely concealing your delightful whimpers and moans. Eric revels in your sounds, chest swelling with pride at how good he's making you feel. "I'm so close, baby," you mumble, and he shoves two fingers into you as he sucks and laps at your clit. He pumps his fingers into you as his other hand massages your tit, and you're going crazy with all the stimulation. A few more thrusts of his fingers is all it takes before you're clenching on his digits, thighs shaking as you ride your orgasm out, as Eric rubs and kisses your thighs.

You lean back onto the counter, panting harshly, as Eric slowly pulls his fingers out, staring at the glistening digits before putting them in his mouth. He sucks them clean, moaning at the taste of your cum, and leans over you to capture your lips, making you taste yourself. He nuzzles your neck and grinds his hard cock on your thigh through his sweats. You want to return the favor, but you don't have any condoms. "Can I... can I fuck your thighs please noona?" Eric bashfully asks, and you want to kiss him breathless again at how innocent he looks, asking permission for such a filthy thing.

You pull him close and he takes that as a yes, pulling down his sweats that had a wet patch on the front from all his leaking precum. You eye his impressive length, teasing him for not wearing any underwear. "It's as if you were planning this the whole time, huh, cutie?" He smiles at the new petname, but shakes his head no. He definitely hadn't planned on fucking you on the kitchen counter tonight, but the universe has its ways of making his wettest dreams come true, apparently. He gathers a mix of the slick from your throbbing pussy and the precum off his aching cock and slathers your inner thighs with it, before pressing them together.

He slots his cock between your smooth thighs and he groans at the feeling. He immediately starts thrusting his hips, his balls slamming into the back of your thighs. You know your legs are going to be bruised the next morning with how hard he's gripping your flesh, but you were starting to enjoy being manhandled and used by someone younger than you, who you never really considered more than a kid. Here he was, proving you wrong, and you loved every single moment of it. He watches as your tits bounce with every snap of his hips and he's starting to go cross-eyed with pleasure. You reach up to pull his hair again, knowing how much he likes it. Soon enough, he cums all over your torso, milky white fluid splattering across your heaving chest and tummy.

He rocks slowly to a stop and pulls out his softening dick from your thighs. You pull him in for another kiss, a gentle one this time, as you quietly thank him for showing you a good time. He helps clean you up in silence and you both head back upstairs, sharing one last kiss before going into seperate bedrooms before your friend wakes up and suspects anything. Eric falls asleep with his heart full and he can't wait to share more moments like that with you. Morning comes quickly and Eric joins you both for breakfast, and then spends most of the day with you again. He basks in the extra attention you shower him with, happy to make you laugh and sharing food and cuddles on the couch.

All too soon it's time for you to go home and Eric pulls you aside to speak privately. He plays with your fingers nervously as he stammers out an invitation to a picnic date the next weekend. You chuckle, pulling your hands out of his grasp and ruffle his hair the way he likes it. "I don't think so, baby. You're cute and all, and I had a lot of fun last night, but this-" you gesture between the two of you, "-can't be a thing. You're my best friend's little brother. I'm sorry cutie. But I'll see you next week, alright?" You kiss him on the cheek and pat it apologetically, before grabbing your things and heading off to your car.

Eric balls his hands into fists tightly, eyes shimmering with tears, a bitter taste left in his mouth as he watches you drive off. He can't breathe and it feels like he just got stabbed in the chest. He should have known it was too good to be true. And the worst part is: if you ever decide to ask him for another night like that, he wouldn't dare say no. He'd please you forever if you asked him to; never mind the bleeding hole in his heart. He'd do anything to bring you happiness, even if it meant sacrificing his own.

A/N: I wrote this off the top of my head and it's unedited, so please forgive me for any errors, I'll come back to edit soon or even change the title. Also please forgive me for hurting our sweet baby Youngjae 🙏🏽😭

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

You’re The Reason | Eric Matthews

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Requested: Yes/No

A/N: My first Boy Meets World fic! Gah! I hope you like this! Couldn’t stay away from the JATP boys though, so it’s kinda like a JATP x BMW crossover... Lemme know what you think! 

Pairing: Eric x Fem!Reader

Song(s) used: none

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, party

Words: 4,028

Eric Matthews. The goofy, charming oldest boy of Alan and Amy. My best friend since forever. Our parents always told us the story about how we met in the sandbox in Kindergarten. I was building sandcastles when Jason, Eric’s first best friend, came to ruin them. Eric, being the charmer he always had been, told Jason off and pushed him out of the sandbox before helping me rebuild my sand castle. Ever since that day, the two of us had been the best of friends. 

We did everything together. Everything from play dates to eating ice cream to going to middle school and eventually high school. Though we never graduated together as my parents had to move when I was 16. We moved to Los Angeles and never returned to Philadelphia. Eric and I were so torn. We had promised we would keep in contact and the first few months were hard, but we eventually found a rhythm in our long-distance friendship. 

Every evening, we would call each other except for the weekends as those were date-weekends where both of us went out on dates. But come Sunday evening, we’d both be on the phone, telling the other what had happened during said dates. 

During summer vacation, Eric would come to L.A. to visit me or I’d go back to Philly, just so we could hang out together for a few days. Those had always been my favorite days. We’d reconnect and find that spark again we always used to have, which, in its turn, brought us closer and made the next few months a little less hard when all we could hear was each other’s voice. 

Last summer, however, I realized that I’d rather kiss those beautiful pink lips than stare at them as he talked about yet another girl he took out over the weekend and made out with. It stung, to say the least, but I couldn’t tell him how I felt. We were miles apart from one another, it would just hurt more. 

Though what hurt even worse was when Eric called me one time in the middle of the night, crying. Confused and worried, I listened to him as he let everything he was feeling out of his system. 

“Mister Feeny is retiring, Cory’s going to college and eloped with Topanga tonight and I just– everything’s changing and I don’t know what to do about it. I wanna stop time and just go back to the way things were. All of us in high school, Cory and Topanga fighting over God-knows-what or Shawn and Cory getting into even more trouble. And you… Not miles away from me…” 

I choked back tears as I listened to him. He sounded so broken, so lost. I wished I could just hold him and let him cry as he spoke about how he felt. I wished I was in Philadelphia instead of Los Feliz, a place I didn’t quite belong. 

“I’m sorry, Eric, I wish I could make things better for you…” I said, my voice just above a whisper, afraid I would cry if I spoke any louder. 

Eric sighed on the other side of the line. “Why don’t you just– come home? Study at Pennbrook with me?” I stuttered and stumbled over my words, unsure what to say to him. 

It wasn’t like I thought about it. I’m an adult, I could change my whole life around and move back to Philadelphia. Back to Eric. But while that sounded all beautiful and wonderful and like a dream come true, I couldn’t just drop everything here. I had my new friends, a college degree I needed to finish. 

“Come on, babe. You know you want to…” Eric pleaded, knowing all-too-well what was going on in my mind right now even though he couldn’t see me. “I know I want you to.” 

I heaved in a deep breath. “I can’t, Eric… I gotta finish my degree here. I gotta–” Just as I wanted to continue summing up reasons as to why I wouldn’t be able to go back to him, four guys I knew like the back of my hand entered my dorm and jumped onto my bed. I didn’t even need to see who it was to know who it was. “Guys– I’m on the phone here,” I scolded them as the floppy-haired guy gave me his best smoulder. “Lukas, no.” 

“It’s alright, y/n,” I heard Eric say, though I could tell it wasn’t actually okay. “You go back to your friends. You stay put. Okay? Whatever makes you happiest.” 

“But you make me h–” Before I could even finish my sentence, Eric had hung up the phone. “Happiest…” I mumbled before placing the horn back on the receiver. 

“You okay?” the  blonde guy I knew best as Alex Mercer asked me solemnly. 

I pressed my lips together. “No– not really…” 

Luke wrapped his arms around my waist and snuggled into my neck while Reggie sat on the end of my bed with his legs crossed. “I think you ought to go visit him,” he said. 

“What?”

“No, seriously. You miss him, he misses you and you clearly need each other right now. Go back to Philly, y/n. Even if it’s just for the weekend.” For once, Reggie actually spoke some sense. 

“Yeah, I mean, you clearly miss each other and you need each other right now. And maybe, whilst you’re there, you can figure out whether you’d wanna move back to Philly or come back to us,” Alex added. 

I had met Luke, Reggie, Alex and Bobby during orientation day, along with Rose, my roommate. There hadn’t been a day where we didn’t spend time together. All six of us were sewn to the hip. Wherever one went, the others went too. A lot of people called Rose and I their groupies as the four of them had started a band way back in high school. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say those four were actually married to one another. 

But to be fair, Alex and Reggie were speaking some truth now. I did miss Eric. I missed him tremendously. And maybe, once there, I could see that Los Angeles was truly where I belonged or if I should stay in Philadelphia with Eric… It was the ultimate life test. 

I heaved in a deep breath before lifting my hand to ring the doorbell at apartment 3E. Nerves bunched in the pit of my stomach and my hands were getting clammy. I wasn’t even sure if Eric was home. I wasn’t even sure if coming over was such a splendid idea. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. 

Even less so when a tall fiery red-haired girl opened up the door. My throat dried up for a second. Did I get the wrong apartment? Eric hadn’t told me about a girl roommate or anything. All I knew was that he lived with Jack and Shawn. Though I figured since Shawn had gotten into Pennbrook too, he might’ve moved into a dorm with Cory. 

“Hi, can I–” the girl stopped in her tracks as she let her eyes glide over me. “You’re y/n, aren’t you?” Her lips curled up into a smile. “Eric has told me so much about you!” 

The nerves in my stomach made room for fluttery butterflies. Eric talked about me. Even to girls as pretty as this one. Knowing Eric the way I do, I didn’t think he ever would. ‘Girl repellant’ he’d call it. 

“Uhm… Yeah… I wanted to surprise him… Is he here?” 

The girl chuckled. “Believe it or not, but he’s actually in class right now.” 

“Eric? In class?” 

She nodded her head, her lips curling up into a smirk. “I’m heading to campus now, you wanna come? His class is almost over.” 

It definitely beat sitting here, waiting for him. 

“Sure,” I replied and the girl quickly went to grab her stuff before walking out and guiding me towards the elevator again. 

“I’m Rachel, by the way. I just moved in a couple days ago,” she said while pushing the button to call the elevator. 

Rachel. Roommate Rachel. She was definitely Eric’s type… A girl. 

“Eric hasn’t told me about you yet. For a second, I thought I was at the wrong apartment,” I said, chuckling a little. 

Rachel and I got into the elevator and she told me about how she wound up living with Jack and Eric. I had to admit to myself that I was only slightly jealous of the moves the two boys had made on her. Not that I cared about Jack hitting on Rachel, but I did care about Eric doing it. 

The red-haired fury led me towards campus and we talked all the way there. Mostly about Eric. She asked me questions about our childhood and I told her every single story about him. It wasn’t hard talking about Eric. Everything we went through together flowed out of me like a waterfall. A waterfall of Eric-filled stories. 

“Oh, look. He’s at the Student Union, as predicted,” Rachel said, pointing towards where Eric, Jack, Shawn and Cory were seated on the sofas, sipping coffee. 

A smile involuntarily crept its way up to my face. Eric Matthews. Seeing him now made my heart beat faster and my stomach fill up with all sorts of butterflies. My LA boys were right. I did miss him tremendously. 

“Come on, let’s go say hi!” Rachel urged, pulling me along by my wrist. 

“Don’t you have a class to go to?” 

She shook her red mane. “I’d rather see this beautiful reunion,” she said. 

Cory was the first one who met my eyes. His laughter made room for confusion to then turn into delight. “Y/N?” he exclaimed, causing everyone’s head to turn my way before he got up to embrace me. Jack and Shawn hugged me next and when I turned to Eric, he was still seated on the couch with his cup of coffee halfway to his lips. 

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked. 

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear nervously. “What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” 

His wide eyes turned back to normal and as he put his cup on the coffee table in front of him, he blabbed while getting up to hug me. “Wha– of course I’m happy to see you, y/n. I just didn’t expect you to come? Don’t you have classes and stuff?”  

I inhaled the familiar scent of Eric Matthews. As my senses filled up with him, my nerves finally calmed down. I was home. 

“I wanted to surprise you…” 

His hands cupped my face as he regarded me. He inspected every inch of my face as if to see if I was complete and really there. “And surprised I am,” he whispered. 

Shawn handed me a cup of coffee as we all settled back onto the couch. They asked me questions about LA and about college in LA, and I answered each and every one of them. It felt good being with this gang again. It was like coming back home. 

Eric took me everywhere that weekend. Friday night, we went to Chubbie’s. On Saturday, he took me back home where I reacquainted with Alan and Amy, and we spent some time with Morgan. 

Now it was Saturday night and we were all at the club for a good party. I was three drinks in and chatting with Rachel at the bar. I had grown close to her over the two days I had been here. Just like Rose, she always knew exactly what to say. And she listened. She listened to all my sorrows and worries. She really listened. 

“I think you’re in love with Eric,” she stated before taking a swig of her beer. 

“What? No! I–” She raised an eyebrow at me. “I am in love with Eric…” 

She let out a cackle. “Ha! I knew it!” 

“I can’t act up on my feelings though, Rachel. We live miles apart. Being friends is already hard enough, I don’t even wanna know what being a couple would do to us. If Eric would reciprocate my feelings, that is.” 

“Would you believe me if I told you Eric is in love with you too?” 

“No.” 

“Well, he is! The way his eyes light up when he talks about you… It’s pure love. Sure, he can be a bit daft and he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but when he talks about you, he almost becomes poetic.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” I said and sipped from my beer again. 

Rachel shook her head at me. “See for yourself.” She pointed somewhere behind me and the second I turned around, Eric was in front of me with those big, sparkly eyes of his and that goofy smile I’d come to love. 

“Dance with me, baby!” he shouted and pulled me along to the dance floor. As I looked back at Rachel, she gave me a knowing look. She wasn’t right. She couldn’t be. 

“I need you to stay,” he slurred, clearly having drank one too many beers. “Please, can’t you stay?” 

“Eric,” I sighed, “You know I can’t. I’ve got –” 

“A degree to finish and friends to go back to, I know, I know…” 

I pressed my lips together in a thin line as I watched him. He was still moving, swaying from side to side to the music, but there was a lot less enthusiasm behind than before we started talking. 

“Hey,” I started and placed my hands on his shoulders. “You know I would stay if I could, right? I just – I can’t, Eric.” 

“Yes, you can, y/n. You can stay here, transfer to Pennbrook, live with me and Jack and Rachel. Be here. With me.” 

His offer sounded alluring. A little too alluring. The alcohol coursing in my veins almost made me say ‘yes’, but the sober part of me knew that wouldn’t be a good idea. “I need a better reason than that, Eric.”

“I’ve got more reasons for you to stay.” 

“Gimme one.” 

Before I could properly process what was happening, Eric grabbed my face and pressed his lips to mine in a deep kiss. As we pulled apart for a moment, I had to take a breather and process what had just happened. 

“That’s a good reason,” I whispered before kissing him again. 

I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that we’d actually wanted to do that for a long time, but the rest of the night we spent together, making out in a corner of the club until Rachel and Jack pulled us apart and brought us back to the apartment. Eric and I fell asleep together on the couch, cuddled up. The place where I’d wanted to fall asleep for months now. The place where I belonged.

It felt weird waking up in his arms. Not that we hadn’t done that before, but the events that preceded it were new. I hadn’t ever been kissed the way Eric had kissed me last night. It was with so much passion and love that filled up all my senses, that sobered me up almost straight away. 

Though, when he woke, it was like nothing happened. 

He didn’t speak about it, and changed the subject whenever I tried to. I didn’t know what had gone wrong. It was probably a mistake on his part. He probably didn’t want to kiss me. It was probably the alcohol speaking and not his heart. He didn’t love me the same way I loved him. 

It was all a mistake. 

“How was your night?” Alan asked playfully when we entered the Matthews’ kitchen for lunch on Sunday. 

“Good! We had fun,” I replied and glanced over at Eric. He had jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he moved over towards the fridge. 

“It was okay,” he spoke and shoved a knife right through my chest. 

I had no clue what I had done wrong or what had gone wrong. All I knew was that Eric was giving me the cold shoulder. The kiss must’ve been a mistake. It must’ve been something he didn’t even want to do and it was just the alcohol taking over. And now it had ruined our entire friendship. 

“When’s your flight back home?” Amy queried. 

I placed my knife and fork down as I had just finished the delicious lunch Amy had made all of us. “Tonight at eight,” I responded with a nervous smile. My stomach churned when I felt Eric tense up next to me. 

“Back to Northridge then, huh? Must be a big change going from cold Philadelphia back to warm and sunny LA,” Alan said with a smile and I nodded my head. 

“It’s gonna be quite the di–” before I could finish my sentence, Eric had shoved his chair back and without uttering a word, he stormed out of the kitchen. I could feel my heart break in my chest. He seemed angry. Frustrated. All of the things I didn’t want him to be before I went back to LA.

“I’ll go check on him,” I said and carefully slid my chair back before following Eric outside. 

He sat on the cushioned bench where we have had many a talk before as the sun set and the stars appeared into the sky. Though right now, it seemed awfully dark and gloomy. Nothing like what it used to feel like. 

“Eric, are you okay?” I plopped down next to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. 

He scoffed. “No, I’m not okay. You know, I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t ask you to visit me. I didn’t ask and so I couldn’t prepare for you to leave… Again.” 

“Eric, I’m sorry. I thought it would be nice to surprise you. I–” I stopped talking as soon as he shot up from the bench and took a few steps away from me. He looked angry and sad at the same time and it broke my heart even further. 

“Don’t you know how much it kills me to see you go every time? But at least in the summer, I can prep myself for the goodbye that’s about to follow. I can prep myself for the heartache and now that I didn’t see it coming, I’m not ready for you to go.” 

I opened my mouth to say something else, but before I could, he gave me another glare and then stormed off to God-knows-where. I couldn’t move. I was frozen to the bench. My best friend just yelled at me and ran off. I didn’t even say goodbye to him. 

“Miss y/l/n, what a surprise,” a familiar voice sounded, causing me to snap my head towards the older man that stood in the next-door garden on the other side of the white fence. 

I smiled at him, but I knew it wasn’t genuine and I knew he knew it wasn’t. “Hey Mister Feeny.” 

“Are you okay?” he asked and opened the small gate. He made a beeline towards me and sat down on the bench next to me. 

I heaved in a deep breath, breathing in the familiarity of my old teacher. “No, I –” I mulled over my words. “I missed Eric, so I came to surprise him but I think it might’ve not been such a good idea.” 

“Why not?”

“‘Cause now he’s mad at me because he couldn’t prepare himself for me leaving…” I mumbled, focusing on the rings on my fingers as I twisted them around and around. “I don’t know what to do, Mister Feeny. I wanna stay with Eric, but I’ve got a life in LA. I’ve got friends and I’ve got Northridge and my family still lives there too…” 

I looked up to see my favorite teacher regard me with such a tender and familiar look. He felt sorry for me and I also knew there was a  pep-talk coming in a few seconds. Though at that moment, I wasn’t sure if I was in the mood for that pep-talk. 

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Miss Lawrence when she came to me with her dilemma,” he started wistfully, the only way Mister Feeny ever spoke. “You stay at Northridge unless you have a good reason not to.” 

My mind immediately went to last night’s events when Eric kissed me after he told me he had reasons for me to stay. If I had a reason, it would be Eric. Eric would be the one and only reason for me to move back to Philadelphia and I couldn’t lie when I said Eric weighs out every other reason I had for going back to LA. 

“I think you know what to do, Miss y/l/n,” he said before placing a comforting hand on my shoulder and getting up again. 

“Hey, Mister Feeny,” he stopped halfway to his house. “You’re a good teacher, you know that?” The genuine and heartwarming smile that curled Feeny’s lips upwards made me feel nostalgic. I had missed that man. 

“Thank you, Miss y/l/n. And you’re a good student.” 

As Mister Feeny returned to his home, I couldn’t help but think everything over. Every thought, every moment of the past weekend seeped back into my mind. There was only one way to stop my thoughts and I knew exactly what it was.  

“Y/N?” His voice caused me to snap out of my thoughts. There he was. Finally. “What are you still doing here?” he asked, visibly getting nervous. “I thought you’d gone home?” 

 I patted the spot next to me on the cushioned bench. Eric hesitantly took the spot, but I could tell he was tense and didn’t quite know what to do. He didn’t look at me and his hands fiddled around in his lap. 

“I am home.” 

Now he looked up at me. Confusion was written all over his face, a look I had seen on him before. The reminder of everything I ever told him that confused him made me giggle a little. 

“What do you mean? Don’t you have to get back to LA? Back home?” He turned his face back to the sky. It was starting to get dark out and the stars above us were starting to make an appearance, along with the bright moon. 

“I talked to Feeny and he told me that I should go back to Northridge…” I watched Eric’s jaw clench. “Unless I had a good reason not to.” 

He turned his head to face me again. “Is there a good reason?” 

I sighed. “I thought about it. I’ve got reasons to go back. Like my degree and my friends out there, my family…” Eric slowly nodded his head and I knew his mind was already preparing him for me to say I was going to go back. “But there’s one reason that makes me wanna stay here. One reason that outweighs all the other reasons.”

“And what’s that?” 

A soft smile befell my lips as I leaned in and cautiously pressed my lips to his. Last night’s memories seeped back into my mind. 

“You’re the reason, Eric Matthews.” 

He smiled as his eyes darted from mine to my lips and back before he fully kissed me on the lips. I couldn’t help but giggle before melting completely into the kiss, into him. After years of being best friends and months of pining for him, I was finally kissing my best friend. I had finally given into my feelings. 

And I was making the right decision. I knew that now. I knew that moving back to Philadelphia would be the right choice. I would be moving back home. Back with Eric. Close to Cory and Shawn and Jack and Topanga. All of my friends from when we were younger. Home. 

The only thing left to do now was break the news to my friends in LA… 

But that was a problem for later. 

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[herstarburststories]

Merry... Birthday?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: You love christmas, but Dean doesn’t. Yet, he might make an exception for your birthday this year.

A/N: This one goes for @negans-lucille-tblr​ ‘s secret fic exchange. My secret Santa was @katymacsupernatural​. Hey, honey! I hope you enjoy this and happy birthday! You deserve double presents, so here’s mine. All mistakes are mine!

Divider by @talesmaniac89 !

You loved Christmas.

It was probably a nostalgic longing for your long gone urban life. Just in the same way you’d still catch yourself looking through the news for election results or feel your stomach twist if you didn’t eat homemade food at least twice a week. You were dead to the government and certainly spent more on the road than in a home. Besides, you had met up with God enough times to know him. All the encounters and screaming and unapologetic abandonment should make you want to throw any baby Jesus against a wall or even climb on a Christmas tree just to shout about all the hoaxes so perfectly molded in patterns through our brains like braids.

Yet, something about you loved christmas. 

The pretty lights always shining, it didn’t matter where you go. For once, all the city-- everything would be entirely made of light. Their incandescent glow always companishing each person, either it was in an once treacherous alley or only to make the kids' grin bigger as they watched them among the busy streets with wide eyed gazes. The confusion in the kitchen that often ended up with huffs bursting into chuckles between the smell of meals that were too much and would make a room for leftovers for the rest of the week. How everything seemed to be made only of happiness, and nothing could ever cut through those water; all the knives were suddenly swords for kids to play and no white gun. In Christmas, a house became a kingdom for every heart. Everything was good and felt through the skin to the bone, like a single glimpse, a hidden day of what would be paradise.

That was how you were raised, at least. The Winchesters didn’t share the same mindset, no. While you grew up with decorating the tree, they were hiding bodies in the dim light. Leftovers were all through their whole year, and Christmas was described as good or not with one single criteria: snow streets. They had to take one? Annoying date. They didn’t and there was eggnog? Bearable Jesus’s birthday.

Yet, you attempted to make the bunker the more festive possible: buying a bunch of christmas lights, cookies’ ingredients and even a small nativity scene. Your attempts to enjoy the date’s niciities ended up with Sam breaking his arm after crashing on the ground because you insisted on him putting the lights in a place higher than his age, not to mention the burned cookies that looked more like tiny monsters than gingerbread men.

Your parents used to make this look so much easier.

Although the youngest Winchester understood a little more about the concept of holidays, a believer in the good until the very end, his brother didn’t share the idea. You couldn’t say you were surprised. Dean just had two barely normal christmas in his life: one when he was dying and one with Lisa and Ben. Both situations made it to his heart only to shatter from the inside.

‘’Baby Jesus?’’ Dean snorted, shaking his head at the sight of you adjusting the weird little dolls in the nativity. He placed another ruined cook in his mouth, speaking with his mouth full next: ‘’We have the son of Lucifer, guess that counts.’’

‘’Don’t say that once Jack gets home.’’ You rolled your eyes, turning to face the oldest Winchester with your hands on your hips. How could he eat that? You couldn’t even make it a bite and Sam only had half of those. ‘’And stop eating those. They are burned.’’

‘’I’ve had worse.’’ He remarked, adding another cookie to his mouth. You grimaced, wondering for a brief moment how your boyfriend could be simultaneously the guy who saved the world and a man with the taste of a five years old.

‘’Yeah. But I’m the one who has to hear you whining about your bellyache later.’’

‘’I don’t whine--’’ You arched your eyebrows at his statement, making Dean huff in agreement. ‘’That was once and because of Sam’s weird ass vegan bacon.’’

‘’You acted like you were dying.’’

‘’My tongue was!’’

‘’So get this.’’ Sam’s voice interrupted your childish argument, catching the attention of both hunters like a shiny object did to a cat. ‘’Apparently we got an earlier christmas gift.’’

‘’What is it?’’ You asked, approaching the table.

‘’Three teenagers disappeared in the forest, all personal objects left behind.’’ Sam explained as Dean scratched out his neck to glance at his brother’s computer screen. Nothing like a case in Colorado. ‘’The authorities think it’s a serial killer. But one of the girls, Kayla Wodson, said she saw a weird, skinny giant take her friends.’’

‘’Ho ho ho and three bodies.’’ Dean clapped his hands together with a wry curve of lips. ‘’Alright. Let’s hit the road-- Wait, wait, wait. Where do you think you are going?’’

You were standing beside Dean while Sam raised to his feet, ready to pack his bags. Dean, nonetheless, was quicker than his brother, soon putting himself in front of Sammy; hands protectively standing in front of the youngest’s chest to keep him from moving any further.

He shook his head with a scoff. ‘’Dude, come on.’’

‘’Not happening, Sammy. You got a broken arm.’’ You mumbled a sorry along Dean’s big brother speech, to which Sam replied with a comprehensive smile. ‘’Y/N and I take care of it.’’

‘’He’s right. Must be the first time in his life, but he is.’’ Dean turned his head, furrowing his eyebrows at you ‘’Don’t worry. It’s just a wendigo anyway. ‘’

‘’Okay. Just…’’

‘’Don’t forget the fireblazer. As if your brother would miss an opportunity to use it.’’ You scrunched up your noise, causing a chortle out of Sam while Dean commented something about grabbing the specific instrument and walked away. ‘’Maybe you could call Eileen. Ask her to help you to back some christmas cookies.’’

Sammy shook his head at your wiggling brows. ‘’That doesn’t sound as sexy for me as it does for you.’’

Dean Winchester was good with numbers.

Not the urban numerical sense of the deal, of course. He almost didn’t make it in sixth grade with useless geometry and all that, and he still used his fingers to count when he had to deal with an equation. No, his good and quick way with numbers was easier, intrinsic to his head.

How many years since mom died? Seventeen. How many people did he have to save? All of them. How many years had he left? Less than he once owned.

Hunter math was simpler, and was all he really needed since he was four years old, running from the fire with his baby brother in his arms-- which brought him to the second section of his particular geometry: birthdays and death anniversaries. Dean never, ever forgot any special date. Those were his own holidays, the only worth celebrating and remembering. His wishes, grief, and cherishment were reserved for the people he loved, not some celestial assholes who saw his life like a book.

Therefore, his mind went on a golden rush for your day as soon as the Wendigo hunt took more than you both expected. You wouldn't be able to make it home before your birthday, which would be ending shortly, a matter of two or three hours. His inner engineers were useful tonight, in his vision, useful enough to make those sappy movies jealous. While you were washing some guts and leaves away, Dean went to the nearest convenience store. His long arms nesting a bunch of stuff he never dared to touch in years. The cashier with drowsy eyes and escarlet Santa hat seemed bored with his shopping, probably because she saw an uncountable amount of people buying the same things over and over. He couldn’t blame her for the suburban exhaustion. If anything, it was a small comfort for his war orbs to see and be a part of a scene so mundane.

He hustled back to the dive motel room, singing in relief to himself once he stepped in and heard you singing Christmas Tree Farm while the water rushed in. He grimaced at himself for recognizing that Taylor Swift song. How couldn’t he? That woman was 80% of all you heard everyday. Man, he was whipped.

Tilting his head back in reality, he started organizing in clumsy manners of putting everything in place for you. His bruised hands touching so carefully the fragile ornaments to make the motel room with grubby walls and weird black stan on the floor that only seemed to grow a little more like you.

You, the woman who put up with him, who laughed at his stupid jokes, and who watched Scooby Doo, all snuggled up to him every friday. You, the woman who switched from AC/DC to Taylor Swift and then Eric Clapton. You, the one who understood his job and helped him to wash off some of the blood on his hand and never got scared of how red the water could get. You, the girl who rolled her eyes at his first attempt of flirting and now stole his french fries and kissed his lips as if he was worth being delicate with. You, his breathing, his true holiday, his only act of faith besides Sammy.

Dean pressed his teeth against his bottom lip, looking up and down his little manual work. Part of him said it was ridiculous, he surely would make a lot of fun of Sam if he did that to a chick. Yet, mostly he was proud. He wanted you to like it. It wasn’t even near to what you deserved, but it was a piece of it. It was what the Winchester could give you, and that would be hopefully, enough.

While Dean was caught in the crossroad of judging and admiring his surprise, you left the shower with a towel wrapped around your head and lips mumbling Cocaine. Your feet glued to the ground once you witnessed what was in front of you: the room was decorated with christmas lights, a tiny plastic tree on the table, right beside a pie with candle on the top and two cup of what smelled like hot cocoa.

‘’Dean…’’ Your tender tone brought him back from his traineck thoughts as he turned around to glance at you. You chortled in astonishment as he raised his eyes and said surprise! ‘’What’s this?’’

‘’Well, it’s your birthday.’’ He shrugged, scooting closer to you with a smirk. Dean smoothly wrapped his arms around your waist, yours instantly resting around his neck. ‘’In my defense, they just had christmas stuff. Blame your parents for having you close to Jesus’ special day.’’

‘’Christmas stuff include pie and not cake?’’ Your brows knitted together, a heartwarming smile on your lips as you watched his expression marked by multicolored little lights. He smelled like something was a blaze, and you knew that was for standing too close to the candle and not for burning a body this time. Small changes.

He scoffed humorously. ‘’You like pie better anyway.’’ He nodded at the carnival-like situation around you two. Dean Winchester wasn’t the kind of man who got insecure, but you could catch a perk of brand nervous hesitation as his green eyes shot you an anxious glance. ‘’Did you like it?’’

‘’I loved it.’’ You pulled cheeks dimpled with joy that was kissed by Dean’s own smiling lips. The kiss was so gentle, it was his own palpable light hearted emotion. You being happy in his arms. It had been so long since he felt he could be enough, he could make someone happy. But you were right there. As you pulled away, another short kiss was given between playful words: ‘’That’s what I call a christmas miracle.’’

‘’Shush.’’ He leaned in and pecked your lips. As Dean pulled back, he couldn’t help but watch around with the pride of Hubris. His glance went back to you, a lopsided grin on his face. God, you loved that smile. You loved that man. ‘’So I added some whiskey to the hot cocoa. We could drink some, eat the pie, and see if those lights make a good improvise rope. What do you tell me?’’

All you could do was kiss him again.

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[brelione]

Marvel Movies (Rafe,Topper,Kelce X Reader)

This takes place about a month after this.

Mentions of choking,fighting,Captain America Spoilers,Kelce being a Disney Hoe

Series Masterlist

You could hear the sound of “Lost In The Woods” from frozen two along with the sound of a car door shutting.You grinned,looking outside your window to see Kelce walking up to your front door.He had been obsessed with the sound track since you,Rafe,Topper and him had watched it last weekend.He swung open your door,pointing at you. “DONT YOU KNOW THERES PART OF ME THAT LONGS TO GO INTO THE UNKNOWN!”He sang,swinging his arms to the tune of the song that was now playing from his earbuds.

You smiled,taking out your phone to record him. “Kel,what are you singing?”You giggled,zooming in on his face. “Bitch,you already know!!!”He said it to the same tune,making you bite your lip to hold back a snort as you saved the video to your snap chat memories.He sat down nexto to you on the couch,pulling out his earbuds. “Rafe and Top are late?”He asked.You shrugged,checking the groupchat to check what time Rafe had left his house. “Kind of but like its fine.Its my night anyways.”You reminded him.Kelce nodded,pulling his legs onto the couch and resting them across your lap. “What are we watching?”He asked,looking up to see nickelodeon on the TV.

You smiled,telling him it was a surprise before throwing his legs off you and going into the kitchen to snack prep.He followed you,not wanting to watch nickelodeon. “Hey,do you remember those brownies we ate when we were little?Like the ones with the colorful chocolate things?”You asked,opening a bag of doritos and pouring the chips into a large bowl.His eyebrows furrowed as he thought about it,grabbing a capri sun from your fridge. “Debby Ryan brownies?”He asked.You turned to look at him,the empty chip bag in your hand. “Do you know who Debby Ryan is?”You asked,laughing at him.

The realization hit him,making him laugh too. “The girl from tik tok!The meme one!”He answered.You nodded,throwing the empty red bag away.You grabbed the bag of sharable m and m’s,pouring the colorful candies into a bowl as well before bringing them both into the living room and setting them down on the table.He somehow ended up laying down half on top of you,the back of his head resting on your stomach.You didnt even hear Rafe pull up,the door opening with him standing with a paper bag in his hand.You missed the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at the sight of Kelce laying on you,he quickly covered it with a smile.

Topper was right behind him,you turned your head to look at the blonde.You immediately burst into laughter upon seeing the pink,purple,yellow and green striped shirt he was wearing. “That’s gotta be the ugliest shirt ive ever seen.”You grinned,running your hand over Kelce’s curly hair.He rolled his eyes,sitting on the floor while Rafe put the paper bag down on the table next to the M and M’s,pulling out the contents.Sour gummy worms,dark chocolate chips,werthers caramels and a can of your favorite soda.He held the can,sitting at the end of the couch by your head so you could rest your head on his lap.He held the cool can to your forehead,knowing that you liked the feeling of the coolness.

You removed your hand from Kelce’s hair,putting on Disney Plus. “OOH-are we watching Winnie the Pooh?”Topper asked.You laughed,shaking your head as you went down to the row of Marvel Movies.Rafe had only ever seen Iron Man 2 so he wasnt very familiar with the films.Kelce preferred DC and Topper just sucked.You eventually came to The First Avenger,pressing on it.You squealed as the movie started,excited to annoy your friends.

 “I have a husband in this one too.”You smiled,remembering your huge Bucky phase in sixth grade that Rafe couldnt quite understand.He had only seen your Winter Soldier hoodie so he didnt really have a good idea of who Bucky actually was besides the fact that you loved 

him.During the scene where Steve received the Serum Topper had sat up,glancing between Steve and Rafe. “Am I the only one that sees a resemblance?”He asked.You sat up slightly,Kelce moving off of you so you could turn and look at Rafe properly.

He blushed,turning his head and looking away so you had to cup his face and get him to look at you.He bit his lip slightly,looking down at you.Topper rolled his eyes,regretting bringing it up in the first place. “Steve is more handsome.”You grinned,returning to your place on his lap.Kelce broke into laughter along with Topper,Rafe just a red mess as you continued watching the TV. “Isnt Spencer your husband?And 10K?”Kelce asked.You nodded,still watching the movie. “I thought Spencer was the love of your life?”He waited for your answer.You rolled your eyes. “I can have multiple loves of my life.”You answered,still watching the movie. “Can you pause this?”Topper asked,looking up at you from the floor.

You paused it,a bit annoyed. “What?”You asked.He opened a bag of sour gummy worms,popping one in his mouth. “How many husbands do you have?”He asked.You bit the inside of your cheek,thinking about it.Spencer Reid,Newt,Draco,Percy Jackson,Jack Frost,Peter Pan,Zuko,Prince Eric,Kristoff,Aladdin,T’Challa,Killmonger,Dallas Winston. “Uh...16.”You answered.Rafe laughed,fingers brushing against his chin as Kelce just looked up at you with wide eyes. “Who?”He asked.You blushed,counting off on your fingers. “Spencer,Newt-”Topper interrupted you. “Who is Newt?”He asked.You glared at him. “Do you not pay attention on Movie Nights?Eight months ago we watched The Maze Runner,the handsome blonde boy with the british accent.”You explained.He tried not to laugh at your passion for the topic.

 “Draco Malfoy,Percy Jackson,Jack Frost-”You were interrupted again,this time by Kelce. “The animated dude?The albino one?”He asked.You sighed,nodding.Rafe’s eyebrows knit together,frowning down at you. “You have a crush on an animated albino?”He asked.You sat up,looking between the boys. “You’re gonna tell me hes not cute as hell?Dont even act like you’re not a simp for Meg,Rafe.You too,Kelce,I saw the way you looked at Elsa when she let her hair down!”You reminded the boy.Topper laughed,forgetting that you knew all his secrets. “Dude,you were in love with Ariel when you were 10!”You exclaimed,making the boy shut up. “Who else?”Rafe asked,still curious. “Um...Peter Pan,Zuko-”You were cut off once again. 

“Birth mark dude from Avatar?”Rafe asked.You huffed loudly,stealing the bag of gummies from Topper and eating one. “ITS A BURN!”You nearly shouted. “You have such terrible taste in men.”Topper rolled his eyes.You glared at him,biting hard on your lip. “Get out.”You told him.He bit back a smile,looking up at you. “What?”He laughed.You pouted. “Go stand in the rain for two minutes.”You told him.He shook his head until you got off the couch,grabbing his hand and dragging him to the door. “You’re being mean so you have to stand in the rain.”You told him,opening the door.

He blushed,stepping outside and into the rain.He would never do this for anyone else but the smile on your face was worth it.Rafe looked outside the window,recording Topper standing in a T pose as water drenched his ugly shirt and hair.Once the two minutes was up you opened the door again,letting the wet boy come inside.He smirked before hugging you tightly,getting you completely wet. “TOPPER!”You shouted,pulling off your wet t shirt. “Dammit.”You huffed,pulling off your wet shorts and leaving yourself in just your bra and underwear. Dancing in bikinis multiple times so it wasn't that big of a deal but you didn't notice their wandering eyes. You turned to walk upstairs to change into new into new pants while top or just stood a blushing mess. 

At this point you'd forgotten about the movie and you were more focused on annoying your friends.Topper  knew better than to sit on your couch in wet clothes but unfortunately he hadn't brought a new pair to change into. So when you return downstairs in a tank top and pajama bottoms you saw topper in just his boxers sitting on your couch watching the movie.You went to sit on the couch,being pulled into Topper’s lap.When the scene of Bucky falling off the train came along Kelce had become attached,standing up to shout at the tv while you started crying a bit,Topper kissing your forehead lightly. “WHERES THE NEXT ONE?”Kelce asked.You grinned,grabbing the remote and moving on to Winter Soldier. 

“Theres like a ton of movies between these two but like we can watch those eventually.”You shrugged,ending up wedged between Rafe and Topper,Rafe’s fingers twisting your hair and tracing figure eights along the back of your neck. “On your left!”You spoke at the same time as Sam,grinning.Kelce grinned. “So thats why you always say that!”He put the puzzle pieces together.When Nat pulled up you saw the way Topper’s jaw dropped,you smiled. “I know,right?Shes like really fucking pretty.”You grinned,head against Rafe’s chest.Topper had began to doze off when Bucky came on with his metal arm,waking up fully again when he heard you whisper “He could literally choke me with his metal arm.”under your breath.He burst out laughing for a reason that Rafe nor Kelce could understand,plotting to use it against you in the future.

Somehow Topper had managed to fall asleep against your leg while Rafe had gotten you onto his lap,your head in the crook of his neck as you watched Steve get the living shit beat out of him.Kelce was on the edge of his seat,completely invested in the story. “Can we watch the next one?”He asked.You smiled,pleased with his excitement. “Tomorrow morning,okay?”You asked.He huffed but nodded,grabbing the blanket he usually used.Rafe pulled a blanket over the two of you,allowing you to sleep on top of him.The four of you must’ve slept in pretty late,waking up to your 1 P.M alarm that told you to take your daily vitamins.You groaned,attempting to move but being held by Rafe.

You yawned,seeing Topper in his deep,drooling double-chin sleep.You flicked Rafe across the head so he’d wake up,the brunette waking with a grumble. “Rafe,you gotta let go.”You smiled,kissing his nose tiredly.He grinned,letting you off his lap.You shook Kelce’s shoulder as you walked by,your shorts riding up.Kelce got up with a groan,the blanket rolling around his body like a burrito as he stumbled into the kitchen.You got yourself a glass of water,putting your four vitamin pills into your palm.He watched as you took them,grinning at you. “Good girl.You want breakfast?”He asked.You shrugged,still tired.Topper walked into the kitchen,wiping his face of drool and carrying the bowl of m and ms.

 “Hey,do you still have those frozen strawberries?”He asked.You nodded,watching as he grabbed the bag of fruit from your freezer along with almond milk,whipper cream,hot fudge and banana. “Where’s Rafe?”Kelce asked,his question being answered by the universe when the Steve Rogers look alike walked in,turning on the keurig.Kelce put some bread in the toaster,taking out the eggs and a frying pan and starting to make some scrambled for Rafe,some fried for you and an m and m omlet for Topper.Speaking of the blonde,he was pouring frozen strawberries,fudge,banana slices and almond milk into the blender,switching it on and dancing to the sounds of the strawberries being crushed.As the eggs began to cook Kelce quickly handed Rafe his mug before grabbing a glass,putting a layer of m and ms and whipped cream at the bottom,adding two spoon fulls of sugar,some milk and mixing it all together until it was a colorful slop,pouring ice in the cup before brewing some italian coffee to top it off.

As it brewed he rushed to flip the eggs,cursing when he realised the edges were burnt.He tossed it onto a plate,sprinkling some italian seasoning on it and taking the toast out of the toaster for you.He grabbed a jar of your favorite jelly,spreading a thin layer on both slices,reaching over Rafe’s head to hand you the plate.You thanked him,ripping the slice of toast in half.Topper turned off the blender,pouring its contents into a glass and making a huge mountain of whipped cream before sitting across from you.You smirked,reaching your fork over to get some whipped cream.He gasped,jaw dropping as he stared at you. “So you’re gonna put me in the rain for two minutes and now youre taking away my whipped cream?Do you wanna fight?”He asked,leaning forward.

You used your fork,knocking over the mountain of whipped cream before getting up and running down the hall.He ran after you,grabbing you by your wrist and pinning you against the wall of the guest room,panting.You two stared at eachother for a while,his bare chest pressed against you.His eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips,leaning down so his forehead was pressed against yours.So much was happening at once,you couldnt even comprehend it.But then from the kitchen you heard an argument starting,Topper letting go of your wrists as they two of you went back to the kitchen. “The third one is the best!” “FUCK YOU IN THE ASS,BITCH!”You walked in,looking between the two boys. 

“What is going on?”You asked.Kelce looked over at you,spatula in hand. “Which Descendants film is better?Two or Three?”He asked.You shook your head,sitting back down to eat your toast. “Fuck-dammit,Topper!You made my toast untoast!”You exclaimed,waving the uncrunchy bread.Kelce frowned,eyes softening. “Do you want me to make you more?”He asked.You shook your head. “No,its fine,Kelce.”You grinned,taking a sip of your coffee.It was sweet and creamy and pretty good,somehow Kelce always made the best coffee no matter what he put in it.Rafe looked between you and Topper,sensing that something had happened in the room.He hoped that Topper wouldnt intentionally hurt him like that,hoping Kelce wouldnt either.A plate of scrambled eggs was put in front of Rafe along with a bottle of barbecue sauce,making you stare at him in disgust. “I cant believe you put barbecue sauce on your eggs.”You shook your head,taking a bite of the toast and getting excited when you heard a crunch. “Oh-hey,dont worry!It didnt untoast”You grinned,enjoying it.

@sexytholland​ @28cnn​  @popcrone818​ @fttayla​ @cherryobx​ @n1ghtsh4d3-67​ @drewstarkeyobx​ @poguestyleskye​ @judayyyw​ @jjtheangel​  @outerbongs​  @copper-boom​ 

If you’d like to be tagged in all future JJ imagines/headcannons/series comment with a heart,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Pope imagines/headcannons/series comment with a smiling face,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Rafe imagines/headcannons/series comment with a frowning face,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Kiara imagines/headcannons/series comment with a question mark and if you’d like to be tagged in all future Sarah Cameron imagines/headcannons/series comment with a plus sign.Or if thats too complicated you can just comment whose name you’d like to be tagged in.

[the-lincyclopedia]

* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter

A fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! The rules are simple: recommend your favorite OMGCP fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo!

This is going to get long, so I’ll put it under a cut. Also, I’m too orderly to try to shoehorn my favorite fics into these particular prompts, so I’m just going to go right to left, top to bottom, taking the prompts literally, until it’s bedtime. 

1. first fic you bookmarked: “Here Comes the Sun” by @doggernaut, 19k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

For the past month, the man with the baby and the sad blue eyes has been stopping in for a cup of coffee an hour before closing. He always sits in an overstuffed chair in the corner and drinks his coffee while his baby sleeps next to him in the stroller. Sometimes he pulls a book out from the diaper bag he carries with him; other times he just stares straight ahead as if in a daze. He never asks for a refill, always respectfully gathers his things and leaves ten minutes before the shop officially closes. Eric desperately wants to ask him what his story is. 

My notes: I read Check Please over the course of two days in June of 2019. On the second day, right after catching up, I looked at @peppermintfeminist‘s AO3 bookmarks and found a fic by @doggernaut. Then I read just about everything @doggernaut had ever posted. It was glorious. This fic in particular is so cute. 

2. most recent fic you bookmarked: “Flight Check” by @edgarallanrose, 15k, E, no warnings (though there is a creepy/handsy guy at a club to watch out for), primarily Zimbits with most of the other popular pairings in the background

Flight attendant Eric “Bitty” Bittle has been working his way up at Samwell Airlines for the past four years, and his new promotion has provided him the opportunity to work with a brand-new crew. Unfortunately for Bitty, that crew includes an incredibly handsome but equally grumpy pilot, Captain Jack Zimmermann, who seems to want nothing to do with Bitty. Even worse, Jack refuses to eat any of Bitty's baked goods. Will Bitty be able to win the captain over? Or is there another reason Jack has been avoiding Bitty?

My notes: There are a lot of great things about this fic--Jack’s character arc, Lardo’s dialogue, that scene in Seattle--but the reason I bookmarked it is the scene where Bitty’s basically slut-shaming himself and Jack gently but firmly tells Bitty not to do that and that it was the creep’s fault. 

3. a fic that made you cry actual tears: “a little bit more” by @ivecarvedawoodenheart, 14k, T, no warnings, Holsom

“I just wanted,” he says, “a perfect day. With you. Because it’s our last day together and our last day being here as undergrads and we’re kissing the ice tonight, and the weather’s supposed to be beautiful, and you’re moving tomorrow and Holtzy I just — I don’t want to be missing you already.” Holster wipes his eyes before he even realizes he’s crying. Behind him, Ransom sighs. “One more day where everything’s the same,” he says, feeling around blindly for Rans’ fingers. He feels Rans nod as he laces their fingers together. “Yeah. Yeah, Rans. I’d like that a lot.” __________________________

Holsom after graduation and throughout the subsequent six months after Holster signs to an expansion team in Oregon, and realizes his feelings for Ransom too late. Holster's POV :) kinda angsty, but there's a happy ending :)

Inspired by shitty-check-please-aus: "Holster moves to Oregon while Ransom stays on the east coast. The time difference makes it difficult to talk and one day they wake up and realize they aren’t best bros anymore."

My notes: I almost never cry at fics. I searched “tears” in my fandom email account and only a handful of my fic comments came up, but Syd is a literal master of Holsom angst, always. 

4. longest fic you’ve read: “Like Real People Do” by @xiaq, 153k, M, No Warnings, Kent Parson x OC

Parson gestures with his spoon toward Hawke. “So am I allowed to ask about the service dog or is that not PC?”

“My medical history is more of a 3rd date conversation," Eli says.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because. No one sticks around afterward and I like to live in glorious denial for a short period beforehand.”

It comes out more self-deprecating than he intended.

Parson looks…thoughtful. “Well, does this count as one or two?

“Pardon?”

“This. Ice cream. I mean, technically it’s a second location, but still the same night. So is this one date or two?”

“One,” Eli says firmly. “If it’s happening within the same three-hour period.”

“You’re the expert,” Parson says, which, he’s really, really, not, but ok.

“So still two dates to go then?” Parson continues.

“I—what?”

“We’ve got a roadie coming up but then we’re home for almost two weeks. When does your semester start?”

“You want to do this again?” Eli asks.

Parson stops idly twirling his spoon.

“You don’t?”

He does, Eli realizes. He really does. Because apparently he actually likes Kent fucking Parson.

My notes: Okay, this fic has my whole entire heart. I’ve read it multiple times in its entirety, and it’s almost twice as long as the full-length novel I’m querying. Eli is one of my favorite OCs I’ve ever seen in a fic (probably tied with Damian Navarro and Ari Paxton, both brainchildren of @fozmeadows). Anyway, this is probably going to be the next thing @themeaningoflifeischeese and I read out loud to each other. 

5. a fic you almost didn’t read: “when all else fails (i’ll still be right here)” by @whoacanada, 6k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (and I don’t remember if I think there’s stuff to warn for, sorry), Zimbits

The National Hockey League is resurrecting the Quebec City Nordiques, and the expansion draft hits the Falconers much harder than expected.

My notes: Given that this was for @omgcpheartbreakfest, I was worried this would be all angst--all hurt and no comfort. Which made me sad, because I love @whoacanada‘s writing but I wasn’t up for reading unresolved angst. But @doggernaut reblogged the fic, so I asked if the ending was sad, and it’s NOT! There is quite a bit of angst but the ending isn’t sad. 

6. a fic that convinced you on a ship you didn’t ship before: “it drops with the gravity of rain” by @geniusorinsanity, 16k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (attempted sexual assault by an OC), Nurseydex

It happens like this:

“I don’t--this is a bad idea,” Dex says, his lips still tingling, his hands shaking on Nursey’s hips where he’s shoved him away. “This is a really bad idea, Nurse. I can’t--We can’t do this.”

And there’s hurt in Nursey’s eyes and his bottom lip is swollen from Dex’s teeth, but he says, “Okay.” And then, “It’s chill, Dex. Just friends, then.”

It happens like this:

“Actually,” Nursey says, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”

It happens like this:

When Nursey calls, Dex almost doesn’t pick up the phone.

My notes: So I was really confused and a little disturbed when I first found out people shipped Nursey and Dex. Like, Dex just wasn’t someone I trusted. But then I was moving out of the house I’d been living in, and I needed stuff to listen to as I packed and cleaned, and @khashanakalashtar‘s podfics came in clutch. I gave this one a try even though I didn’t like Dex, and @geniusorinsanity blew. My. Mind.

7. a fic from an unusual POV: “Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy” by @porcupine-girl, 8k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

Jesse Snowden knows all the best restaurants and gourmet food shops in Providence, so when Jack Zimmermann starts bringing in incredible baked goods, he's eager to find out where the new bakery is. When he meets the man behind the pies, he decides that there's no way Jack could really appreciate this guy's talent the way he does, even if they are friends. He starts hiring Jack's chef on the side, in the hopes that maybe once Bitty's done with college he'll come work for Jesse.

Good thing there is absolutely no way whatsoever that Jesse could possibly be misinterpreting this situation.

My notes: Oh my gosh this is so funny. The secondhand embarrassment factor is huge, but like, the hilarity. 

8. a comfort fic: “Don’t Need to Compromise” by @khashanakalashtar, 11k, E, no warnings, PB&J

“Hey,” said Kent, unknowingly setting off a chain of events that would change his entire life, “you said that like you know from experience. Have you done this before?”

Jack and Bitty have not done polyamory before, but they do know Ransom and Holster’s polycule, which contains March.

And March?

March is trans.

My notes: I’m in love with @khashanakalashtar‘s entire Directionverse series (and honestly a lot of their other writing), but “Don’t Need to Compromise,” which is the second fic in the series, just makes my heart swell especially much. The gender feels are so good, and all the characters are so good to each other, and when I listen to this on walks I have to actively try not to arm-flap. 

9. a fic you wish could be a movie: “Ice Crew Please!” by @petals42, 61k, T, no warnings, Zimbits

Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.

He’s not, of course.

Enter the Ice Crew.

AKA: The Ice Crew AU

My notes: This fic has its tender moments, but what I love most about it is the sheer goofiness. Ransom and Holster and Shitty are HILARIOUS in this one. I’d love to see their shenanigans in movie form. 

10. a WIP you read as it was updated: “Something Borrowed” by @fozmeadows, 48k, M, no warnings, Kent x OC

All things considered, Ari did his best to prepare himself for the advent of Kent Parson, Potentially Difficult Housemate and New Star Liney. The problem was that his best was an idiot.

My notes: So technically I didn’t start reading this until the first 19 chapters were posted. But there was still plenty of anticipation for the final few chapters. And like, @fozmeadows (as mentioned above) makes EXCELLENT OCs. And I love how their fics consistently convey that having bad things happen to you does not mark the end of your story. 

Okay, it’s bedtime, so have 10 excellent fics. I got bingo twice, because I went straight across on the top two rows.

[stxrliasfics]

sxtrlia’s guide to writing a fic

1. Obsess over this idea for at least a week

Got that important paper due for English the next day? Forget it. Your life depends on this random daydream you had in class right now and you have to talk about it over and over with your friend to the point that you’re both getting sick of hearing you giggle about a dying ship from an old fandom.

2. Spend money on another notebook you definitely don’t need

You’ve got like, 50 of em at home that you haven’t even written in yet. Doesn’t matter. This new precious fic deserves a clean, sexy notebook with a glossy finish and gorgeous graphic art on the cover of it. It’s also an excuse to drive 20 minutes to the nearest Walmart.

3. Binge watch show/movie and browse pics of ship while plotting

You actually need to get some outlining done if you want to be committed to this fic. But scrolling on pinterest for an hour and rewatching an episode that you’ve definitely seen a million times before is too important right now. Meh, I’ll outline later.

4. It’s now later and all you have is “The” on your paper

Meh, time to watch some degrassi

5. You watch your grades slip but OMG IM ACC GETTING SOMEWHERE WITH THIS???

You’re sweating like you’ve never sweat before, your hand is cramping like crazy, and you currently have a 40 in a class bc you didn’t turn in that important project that was worth half of your grade. IT DOESNT MATTER THO BC YOU JUST THOUGHT OF THIS PERFECT PLOT POINT AND OMG YOURE DANCING AROUND THE ROOM BC OF HOW PERFECT EVERYTHING IS TYING TOGETHER!!

6. You upload the story

Now you’ve lost motivation.

[nosferatyou]

Double Indemnity: Ch.1 (Josh Kiszka x Reader)

Summary: After an incident their freshman year they could barely stand to look at each other. Now it’s their senior year and are grouped together for their final project. What could go wrong?

Warnings: Cursing

WC: 2.3k

Authors note: Well. I flipped into Josh’s lane and thought of this sucker and couldn’t get it out of my head. After I heard the story behind the writers of “Double Indemnity” I just had to make this. Heres to me hopefully finishing a series! Enjoy!

Let’s go back to the day when I “met” Josh Kiszka and when I actually met Josh.

It was the summer before my freshman year of college, and at that point, film sets weren’t a stranger to me. But I sure didn’t have the experience that most of the already film majors around me had. I was roped in by my long time friend Jack who I hadn’t spoken to since graduation, but due to the circumstances, he needed as many crew members as possible. He had 2 days to write, shoot, and cut together a short film. I was a PA (production assistant) and was frantically running around helping in any way I could. I was smart enough to stay out of the way and speak up when needed.

 I met most of the crew except one, the cinematographer/camera op, who was the busiest on set. The exception being Jack, who was the director. I heard the camera OP was only there because he had the nicest camera, but my mind may have tainted what I heard about him that day.

With only an hour to spare we had finished the film. All of us dehydrated and starving, sleep-deprived too. I was cradling a horrendous migraine from the lack of water and was ready to leave before someone suggested we go to Cookout. Which is arguably the best food at 3 am. 

Against my will, I was dragged to the fast-food restaurant with the rest of the crew. At that point, I was barely conscious and sat in the back seat of Jack’s car. The stranger cinematographer who I hadn’t noticed was next to me until he tapped my shoulder. With a concerned look, asked me if I was okay and needed anything. Which was nice of him considering we’d never spoken. 

After the short exchange of words, he never seemed to fully leave my side. May it be his glances from across the table with the same concerned look, or him bring me cups of water, which I still don’t remember him getting up for. 

After that night it would be months until I see him again. 

I didn’t expect him to be in my Post Production class, but I was definitely happy to see him. It was my first day of classes and to see a familiar face was a nice change of pace compared to whirlwind of a day. Though it wasn’t too long after that that my feelings for him changed.

If you’re a film student you’re going to edit a Gunsmoke fight scene, it is basically a right of passage. Anyways I was an experienced editor and of course, was going to cut the fight scene to the beat of an Ennio Morricone song. If we were going to work on a western scene then Ennio was a must. 

 I was damn proud of my work, I seemed to be one of the best editors in the class, josh being right there with me. We didn’t exchange many words, but we kept each other company by simply sitting next to each other. 

Then came the critique day, when everyone watches your video and gives you notes. Usually its never good notes.

 After our class watched it everyone had a lot to say, mostly over small slip-ups I didn’t notice, that’s normal. Josh’s video was next and the moment the music played I was livid, he had used the same exact song, even cut it the same way I did. The worst part was that no one had anything bad to say about it, all good comments. I kept it contained, for the most part. I didn’t verbally say anything, but my constant tapping and dirty looks in his direction said otherwise. I don’t think he’d noticed.

I waited until everyone left and simply gave him a piece of my mind. Maybe I snapped at him… either way, it led to us getting into our first screaming match. Josh saying he “didn’t” copy my video and me disagreeing. I honestly don’t remember how it ended, but I do remember us getting kicked out of the building for it. 

Anyways that was three years ago, and we still hate each other. Yet here we are still in all the same classes, but the difference is we have silent warfares. Constantly competing with each other, showing each other our higher grades, and besting each other’s videos. I can barely stand to hear him talk anymore, but I do have to say. He knows how to make a good line. 

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

Even with the cold chill of the November air prickling my skin and the wind whipping my hair, my mood couldn’t be damped. Maybe “chill” is an understatement. Living in “The City by the Lake” aka Chicago brings on the harshest of winters, and as crazy as it seems, I always weirdly miss it when I go back to Michigan. Sure it has it’s many feet of snow, but Chicago makes the wind weirdly dazzling. 

This is my last coffee, I’ll switch to tea. Is something I say every morning when I get up before classes, but here I am again, with an out of place cold brew in hand and a raging caffeine addiction. In hindsight, it is better than my previous vice, cigarettes, but the headaches it brings on is just as bad as missing a cig. My one hand shoved in my pocket and the other is clutching the same cold brew as before. I may have said that I couldn’t be bothered by the weather, but I’m not immune. 

As soon as I enter Columbia’s Media Production building everything becomes flush with warmth. Its a bit uncomfortable really. I remove my gloves and quickly checked my phone, affirming that I’m right on time as always. As I stroll through the halls I tune more into the music, enjoying my free time. There is just something about Chet Baker and Chicago that just mixes so well. 

Todays a good day though, it marks my one year of quitting cigs. Did I mention that I quit? Because I quit. Anyways my roommate made a big deal out of it, I also figured out the coolest riff, I’m kind of shit at making music out of thin air so it’s a big day. 

After taking the long way to my Directing class (Cinema Directing III if you want to get technical) I finally made it to the small class. Most of the class was there, luckily for me my two-year seat partner, Gwen, was already there, waiting where she always does. We met in our Single Cam 1 class and have been inseparable since, well actually Gwen, Cora (the previously mentioned roommate), and I have been inseparable ever since. 

I made my way to my usual seat and peeled my overworn leather bomber jacket off, already feeling more comfortable. Slumping back in my chair I lazily grabbed my sketchbook and pencil out of my bag. Its become a kind of habit to draw my professors and classmates every day, something is just so fascinating about their compositions. I got to work on Gwen who was hunched over, focusing on her book in front of her. I got to work and as soon as I finished up on the basic shapes she quickly sat up, focusing on me. 

“You ready for the final project?” She questioned, stealing my coffee in the process.

“I’ve been working on a few ideas already, but then again I don’t know the assignment yet. I do know I will be grabbing the usual 4 of you the moment he says “groups.”

“Heres to hoping we can pick- Oh!” She almost spilled my coffee when she interrupted herself. 

“I forgot to text you! Happy one year of being ciggy free!” She exclaimed, handing me back the bottle.

I took a swig from the bottle when she gave it back. “Well thank you, darling. I feel like having clean lungs shouldn’t be such an achievement, but I guess here we are.”

“Be proud! Besides gives us a reason to head to Jerry’s.”

“We’d celebrate over anything if it meant going to Jerry’s and getting pissed.” I smirked at her.

“Well. You got me there. Anyways you are right, we will be getting drunk out of our minds tonight. Bless the man who decided to open a bar directly next to your apartment building.” She said, with a playful smile on her lips.

“Bless him indeed.” I laughed. 

At that moment I locked eyes with none other than the aforementioned, Josh Kiszka. It’s oddly enough what we do every time we see each other. Which is more often than I think both of us care for. But seeing him roll his eyes every time I glare at him is kind of fun. 

I followed him with my eyes as he sat down in his seat, instantly sticking his nose in- wait what is he reading? I focused and realized he was reading the screenplay for Tarantino’s “Reservoir Dogs.” Where the hell did he even get that? 

My eyes snapped up to the professor when I realized he started class.

“Alright, I’m just going to jump into this. Today we start on your final projects, and I think it’ll be very fun. A challenge for sure, but fun nonetheless.”

I slipped a sly smile to Gwen, already thinking of the best ideas in my arsenal to use.

“In groups, you all will be recreating a favorite film, but it should max be 20 minutes long. Now that’ll be your job to rewrite and format it so you can fit in the timeframe. Oh, and I swear to god if another person does Pulp Fiction I will actually scream. You can hold me to that.”

Oh Jesus okay this will be hard as hell, I guess something with a simpler plot will be easy. Ooh, or something that’s so overcomplicated I can rewrite it so it’s simpler. What’s something that’d be good for Gwen, she’s a good actress, but she can only play so much-

“I already have your groups picked out let me just put them up on the board.” My professor said, searching for the list on his computer.

Oh god. He’s never done this. We always pick groups. If Gwen and I aren’t grouped together I may just riot. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him drag the document over to the screen, so I quickly directed my attention to it.

I searched all of the lists, finally finding my name at the top of group four. Rob, Eric, and- Oh shit Gwen! Wait. There’s one more. The moment I saw the J I knew exactly who it was. My eyes darted over to Josh’s seat and had the same look I could only guess that was on my face. We both glared at each other, if we stared any harder we’d burn holes in each other.

“Motherfucker!” I whispered to Gwen, trying not to raise my voice.

“What? We are in the same group.” she looked back over to me with confusion on her face. She followed my eyes to the equally angry man across the room from me.

“Oh, shit..”

“Oh shit is right! I can’t work with that guy, I swear to god… Damn it, I can’t think of an insult! Quick help me!” I stammered out, you could practically see the steam coming out of my ears.

“Um... You can’t work with that Frodo look alike?” She suggested, both of us whispering to each other now,

“I’ll take it. I can’t work with that Frodo look alike! He’s just gonna take all of my good ideas and throw them into the lava like that fucking ring. Wait is it Frodo or sam who throws it? Know what, I don’t care. Look at what he’s making me forget important plot points in movies. I can’t work with someone who hinders my thinking process.” 

“First off, Gollum falls in with the ring in hand. Secondly, drink your coffee and focus on what movie we should do. Suggest something so good so fast that it’ll make his head spin.”

She put the almost empty coffee in my hands and I took a swig, still glancing back at josh, making the same face. 

Gwen started to ramble on, her words in the back of my mind. All I could focus on was wanting to be in any other group than his, even Leonard. He refuses to watch a Tarantino film, and simply because he thinks he’s beyond that. Leonard is someone I talk to if only necessary.

 I tuned back in to hear. “I mean if you think about it, as much as you and Josh are to Frodo and the Ring. You’re more like Billy Wilder and Ray Chandler. I mean they hated each other, but damn if they weren’t good writers. Plus, they respect a good line-”

Inspiration was swept over me. I knew exactly what we had to do. Before I knew what was happening my feet carried themself over to Josh’s seat. Same as before, we both had the same expression, except this time it was one of surprise. 

“Double Indemnity!” I blurted out a bit too loudly.

He seemed even more confused. “Double insurance money?” He questioned.

“Fuck. No. It’s the film we are going to make. It’s a fantastic idea, and it’s happening. Not even you can argue with me!” I sped out.

He sat for a moment in thought, his brows furrowed together and a cliche hand positioned on his chin. 

“Fine.” Is all he said, his arms were crossed. He seemed defeated.

I simply turned on my heel and headed back to my seat. An overexcited grin plastered to my face. 

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Runaway Chapter 8

Vlad Masters x reader

Word Count: 1768

Summary: FLASHBACK TIME. AKA, how we got here

Note: This is edited a lot less, so I apologize if there are errors.

A short while later, the Fentons stood watching a wall-sized screen while Vlad operated the device and Plasmius stood inside the tube with a few probes on his head.

“Now watch the screen because I am going to show you the important parts of our early relationship so you will finally stop thinking I kidnapped her or something. It’ll be a composition from both of our points of view since we’ve been developing it together.”

With that statement from Vlad,  the screen started playing like it was a movie, showing Vlad’s self from a few years before walking down the street. His face looked like he was bothered by something as he entered a coffee shop. Imagine the Fentons’ surprise when they saw their daughter working the counter.

When she saw the depressed-looking man at the counter, a concerned look formed on Y/N’s face. She hurried to write something on the man’s cup before handing it over to him.

The ‘camera’ once again followed Vlad as he left the shop. It wasn’t until he reached his office that he saw the note on the cup near his name. “Sorry about whatever’s bothering you. I'm here if you need to talk.” A little smile formed on his face.

From his thoughts the audience of two could tell that he’d gotten a few notes from Y/N before. Meaning she’d instigated their relationship. Which was the opposite of what Jack expected. That was when Vlad’s thoughts tipped into the territory of asking this girl out for lunch and all of the insecurities that went along with that.

The next day, Y/N was just clocking out when Vlad entered the shop. “Hey!” she greeted happily as she stepped out from behind the counter.

“Hello yourself,” was his warm reply. “Thank you for your note yesterday, Y/N. It really helped.”

Pink tinted the tips of her ears. “You’re welcome, Vlad.”

“I do hope it’s not too forward of me, but would you go to lunch with me sometime?” His heart lurched at the beaming grin that spread across her face.

“I thought you’d never ask.” The image paused.

“That led to our first date,” present Vlad explained. “As you can see, we were both fully consenting to the whole thing. It was all rather domestic, actually.”

“What’s next?” Jack asked. After all he’d missed in his daughter’s life, this was proving to be quite enlightening.

“The next was when I told her about what I went through to get where I am now. Hospital and all. We’d been dating for a year.”

Tears fell down Vlad’s face as he remembered all those years he spent seething in his own hatred and fear of how he would pay his hospital bills with no income or family to help. All that stress was still so vivid even later after he had so much. “We’d been doing an experiment. I-I tried to tell Jack that something wasn’t right . . . I was caught in the blast. I was in that hospital for so long.”

Concern was etched into Y/N’s features while her hand went to his cheek; her thumb wiped away some of his tears. Both of her arms slid around his neck so she could pull him down into a tight hug. Her fingers combed gently through his hair since it was out of its ponytail for once.

“I was alone for so long,” Vlad whispered the admission.

“Well, you’re not anymore. I’m here to stay,” Y/N murmured.

Maddie gasped at Past Vlad’s little head shake. It’d never occurred to her that she and Jack hadn’t visited their friend after the accident they had caused.

Y/N leaned back to kiss his lips. “I’m sorry.” Another kiss. “I’m so sorry.” Inside, guilt was eating away at her since her own parents were the ones that put him through so much suffering.

“How about the first time we kissed?”

They were at a gala for Vlad’s company a few weeks into their relationship. Y/N had finally managed to get Vlad alone out on one of the balconies after an hour of trying to rescue him from the various press demanding conversations. The sounds of the party were behind them, only slightly muffled by the glass doors. A smile pulled at her lips at the sight of Vlad looking relieved to be able to breath without fans, employees, or press breathing down his neck.

On impulse, she stood on her toes to kiss him. At his lack of response, Y/N nervously retreated. “Should I not have . . . ?”

Vlad swallowed thickly, lacing their fingers together to keep her from moving farther away. “If it were any other time . . . I would happily return your affections. The problem is,” his grey eyes met her e/c ones, “if I kissed you now, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”

Heat instantly flared in her face at what she was about to say. “Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

“As tempting as that is, it would be highly improper for me to disappear from a party that I am hosting.”

She pouted. “Well that’s just no fun.”

“Perhaps,” Vlad trusted himself to brush his lips to her jaw, “we can make good on that offer after everyone leaves if you’re still up for it?”

A wicked smirk formed on her face. “Oh, I like that plan a lot.”

“Or maybe this?”

The Vlad on the screen was talking to his secretary while getting dressed for his date that evening. For their six month marker, they’d decided to go to a rather nice restaurant. “While I am gone, tell Eric to check with Research about that new PDA. I haven’t heard anything on it in almost two weeks.”

“Yes, Mr. Masters,” Sally nodded. “Sir, can I ask a personal question?”

“Of course, but I reserve the right to not answer it.”

“Fair enough. I haven’t seen you like this since, well, ever. Is it this woman that’s making you so happy?”

Vlad raised an eyebrow. “Well that is quite forward, but the answer is yes. She is . . . something I thought I’d never find, to be honest.”

Sally had a growing smile on her face. “By God . . . You love her don’t you?”

That made his heart beat faster. Y/N had been saying it for months, but every time Vlad was unable to repeat the words to her. Yet she was the one that made his heart race like no other. Not even Maddie back before the accident had challenged him as much while also making him feel like he was home no matter where they were. Even now he found himself smiling at the mere memory of her touch. 

“I suppose I do.”

Sally was all-out grinning by that point. “Good. I’m happy for you, Mr. Masters. You’d best get to your date before you’re late, now.”

“I thought I was the boss here?” Vlad teased.

“Go!”

“Or perhaps when I proposed to her will convince you that I didn’t force her into this relationship?”

“V-man, I think we’ve seen enough.”

“No, Jack, you haven’t, because I can still see the accusation written all over your goddamn face. Now sit and watch.”

Two years. They’d happily been together for two years as of that morning. Vlad smiled to himself as he looked next to him on the bed at his girlfriend sleeping there in one of his t-shirts. He resolved to ask her to marry him that day even though he hadn’t found a ring he liked for her just yet. Knowing her, that wouldn’t matter anyway.

Vlad carefully extracted himself from the bed to go make breakfast. He didn’t bother to get dressed; he just went down in pajama pants with no shirt.

Y/N stirred as soon as the door clicked shut behind him. She was rather groggy while getting up and following him out to the kitchen, meaning it took a lot longer than usual. The fog of sleep had lifted during the time it took her downstairs, however, so she fully enjoyed the sight of her boyfriend’s muscles flexing as he cooked.

“Mornin’, sexy,” she greeted as she poured herself some coffee.

“You’re supposed to still be asleep so I can bring you breakfast in bed,” he commented.

“Yeah, but my pillow abandoned me.”

That’s when he turned to look at her and froze at the sight before him. Seeing her there in just his shirt sealed it for him. Vlad reached behind him to shut off the stove as he spoke, “Well in that case take my hand.” He offered his free one to her.

“Why?” she asked suspiciously, putting her steaming mug on the table.

Vlad chuckled, knowing she was half expecting him to put her on the table and fuck her right there. “I’m trying to ask you to marry me, so take my damn hand!” he laughed.

Blue eyes widened dramatically at both the words and at Vlad’s look of genuine happiness. Aside from shock, only one thought was rattling around in her skull and she voiced it. “Why me?”

“Because you saw me when I was invisible,” he shrugged as if it was obvious. “Sometimes literally, but you’re the only one to ever just care about me rather than my money or fame. Because I love you. I don’t have a ring yet, but I’m working on fixing that. So will you--”

“Yes! Of course I will, you goddamn idiot!” she interrupted. Y/N tackled him by hopping up to wrap her legs around his waist, knowing he’d catch her.

“Now just what are you doing?” he asked with a chuckle as his hands moved under her as to support her weight.

“You are gonna put me on that table and fuck me on it until I’m screaming your name and we both collapse.”

“And that’s enough of that memory!” Vlad coughed awkwardly as he cut off the program. “I’d forgotten that that morning ended like that.” Another cough coupled with him scratching at his newly-short hair. “Anyway, I hope that all of that will convince you that what we have is real. Not an illusion or her wanting my money or whatever the two of you think is going on between us.”

“Fine,” Jack finally admitted, “there’s nothing wrong with you two being together other than your age. That doesn’t mean the ghosts aren’t possessing you.”

Y/N entered the room and therefore halted whatever Vlad had been about to say. “Fight that fight another time, Vladimir. I figured out how to reverse it, so they need to get the fuck out now.”

Vlad’s ensuing grin was positively evil. “You heard the lady. Leave.”

--

Note: And that’s literally all she wrote. As usual, I might come back and write some more if anybody wants it (or if I feel like it), but as of 11/4/2019 that’s it.

[babbushka]

Two Doves (3/6)

Drafted into a war he didn’t want to fight, Flip Zimmerman comes home to a country that doesn’t want him. With your help, he works through it all.

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

(Word count: 6k Warnings: War, gun violence, angst, ptsd, blood, graphic descriptions of death, graphic descriptions of violence)

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

After our war, the dismembered bits

—all those pierced eyes, ear slivers, jaw splinters,

gouged lips, odd tibias, skin flaps, and toes—

came squinting, wobbling, jabbering back.

-  John Balaban

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

After weeks of trudging through the water, the rivers and marshes of the dense thick jungle, they’re in the sky. It’s an altogether different type of being vulnerable, Flip thinks.

They’re up in the helicopters, for whatever fucking reason. There’s solidarity in numbers, about a dozen helicopters flying next to them, all in a formation Flip doesn’t know, wasn’t told.

He wonders what it looks like, down on the ground. How it must look to see a dozen metal birds crossing the horizon. Flip clenches his fist around his gun, he sweats. 

He hates this.

All he wants is to listen to your tape, but he’s got big ear-muffs on, they all do. Pilots said best to wear them so they don’t get their eardrums blown out, best to avoid the tinnitus.

You might survive the war, they said, but the tinnitus would drive you crazy.

As much as he wants to listen to the tapes, he doesn’t want to risk it.

It’s loud, so loud, and the world below them is so small, green as far as the eye can see. It’s like some hell, some tropical hell made just for him. Even up in the sky it’s hot, humid. How the fuck did that work? The engine and the blades of the helicopter drown everything out, every thought that Flip might have had is reduced down to it’s so fucking loud.

There’s five guys crammed into the back of one Huey along with Flip, but none of them are really doing anything. The pilots don’t tell them what was going on, they just hover, hover and fly around and around, searching for something.

“What are we looking for?” Eric shouts over all the noise, is the first one to dare ask, because surely they can’t be looking for people.

They’re too high up for that, can’t see past the thick canopy of green green trees, palms blowing around from the wind generated by their own machine.

“Shut the fuck up!” One of the pilots shouts, and Flip grits his teeth.

“He only asked a fucking question.” Flip shouts back, voice hoarse.

There’s no reason to be jack asses, Flip thinks.

Everyone pretends they didn’t hear him, which was probably for the better. He doesn’t need getting into a fistfight, not on top of everything else.

In the distance, one of the helicopters drops a bomb and there’s a great plume of smoke.

The jungle cracks in half, orange litters the sky, and Eric has his answer.

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

Flip doesn’t sleep that night.

You don’t sleep either, instead content to curl up against your husband on the couch as he shivers from cold that isn’t there. You make him hot chocolate, you put extra marshmallows in it and extra whipped cream and Flip drinks it even though he’s afraid it’ll make him sick.

So much sugar after none at all can’t be good, he thinks, but you made it for him, so it has to be good, he reasons.

It coats his throat and the roof of his mouth and it makes him calm in a way that makes him anxious.

When was the last time he didn’t have to worry? When was the last time he didn’t have to be so fucking on edge? It’s strange, not keeping one eye open, not looking over your shoulder, searching for enemies that are eight thousand miles away.

Is it going to be like this forever?

It’s pitch black outside and you’re both still awake, still on the couch as even the crickets have gone to sleep.

Flip sees the way you’re looking at him, but he can’t place the expression. It’s fear, it’s worry, it’s relief all in one, he doesn’t know how you do it. He can barely process one emotion, one feeling, one mindset – let alone three. He feels like he’s never had a very strong emotional threshold, but now…now it’s even more frayed, seams struggling around the edges.

He wants to tell you everything, wants to talk to you, wants to get it out.

He needs to get it out, he needs to.

He doesn’t know how.

“The brown walls look nice.” He says instead, says as you’re pressed so close against him, so close under the quilt his mother made, that he can feel the shudders that wrack through your body, “Lighter than I was thinking.”

You look to the dining room, to the brown walls. They’re the color of coffee diluted with cream, and Flip finds himself craving caffeine, real stuff, brewed stuff, not the instant shit he drank.

You look at the walls and you look at him, and Flip looks at nothing in particular.

“Do you want them darker? I’ll make them darker I was just – ” You start, but Flip shakes his head, pulls you impossibly closer, wants to crawl inside your skin and live there, he wants to live in you where he’s safe and warm.

He can’t, so he tries his best to get close, as close as possible, impossibly close.

“They’re perfect, really. They’re perfect.” He assures you, reassures you, and his heart breaks when even now there are tears in your eyes.

Your hand reaches up tentatively to caress his cheek, like he’s a dream, a ghost, something you’ve invented after so many nights alone.

You’re both so fucked, he thinks, fucked by this war in more ways than one.

“Kiss me?” You ask, you beg, desperate, and Flip accidentally jabs you in the face with his nose from how fast he ducks to capture your lips.

He sets the mug of cocoa down on the table, careful to place it on a coaster, careful not to fuck up the table like he’s fucked up everything else, and cups your face in his scarred hands. He pulls you into his lap and the two of you wetly cry against one another, kiss and kiss and kiss until your lips are puffy, swollen from it.

He kisses your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids. He kisses your nose and your forehead and your jaw and your neck, kisses every part of you that he can reach and hopes the kisses travel to the parts that he can’t; your heart, your lungs, your soul.

“I can’t…even start to explain how much I love you.” Flip is all choked up, he’s swallowing around hard lumps in his throat that have lived there for years, needing to try and unpack at least this small part of his brain, needing to at least get this part out of the dark pit in his mind.

“You don’t have to.” You rush to say, not wanting to force him, not wanting to make him do anything he doesn’t want to. He had been ordered around enough, you thought, “You don’t have to say anything Phil, you know I’m yours.”

He pinches his eyes shut, hot wet tears stinging stinging stinging, like acid and acrid smoke from fires that only exist in his head.

“I was worried…” He starts, but can’t finish, too afraid to speak the words, too afraid to confirm or deny.

That’s what he struggles with the most, he thinks, as he’s got you in his lap clinging to him, to every word he says, if he speaks the things on his mind they’ll become real, they’ll become things he has to confront. He doesn’t know if he has the strength to confront anyone, anything.

“What?” You ask, prompt him gently, not overbearing or forceful.

Flip wants to scream, but it’s too quiet, and he’ll scare you if he does, and the absolute last fucking thing he wants to do is scare you, now or ever.

“I was worried you wouldn’t want me – that you’d moved on.” And his pulse is racing racing racing, and he wants to run because you’re looking at him and he doesn’t know what you’re going to say, doesn’t know what you’re thinking, and the silence is palpable in the living room then.

You look at the brown walls of the dining room, look down at the scar along his palm, pink and shiny, freshly healed.

“You know, every night I would wait for you to come through the front door?” You say softly, so softly, and Flip can hear that you’ve got lumps in your throat too, you’ve got ghosts in your mind too.

“I’d lie awake in bed and listen for the front lock to unlatch, for you to drop your keys in the little dish in the hallway and then come up to bed and fall onto the mattress in all your clothes like you do sometimes when a case is long. Every single night, I’d wait, until I couldn’t wait any more and I’d fall asleep in your clothes.” You say, looking at him, really looking at him.

Flip looks back, sees the age in your eyes from being apart, sees how the two years have treated you.

He hates that they’ve not been kind, hates that they’ve treated you poorly.

“I played all your records and watched your favorite shows and I imagined you laughing along to them or singing terribly – ”

“Hey.” He interrupts with a soft laugh, and you laugh too just because you can, just because you can.

But then the laugh fades away and the softness around your eyes returns, and Flip’s stomach is twisted and churning because he’s terrified of the way your smile drops.

“…And then I’d cry because I didn’t know what you were doing, where you were, if you were alright. Jimmy came over like you told him to, came over every Tuesday and Thursday to help me with the house and my sanity, but then he would leave and I’d be sitting in this house alone, left with the ghost of you everywhere I looked. I’d think of something funny to tell you, and you wouldn’t be there, wouldn’t be coming home. I wrote them down, thinking I’d save them for when you got here, but then the first year came and you still weren’t.”

And you’re holding it together, but just barely, because if you lose it he’ll lose it, and then you’ll both be lost and neither of you can handle that right now, not right now, not so soon. He sees you shaking, and he’s shaking, and all you have is each other, and it’s more than enough; it’s more than enough but it can’t stop the shakes, the shivers.

“Can you tell me now?” He asks, and you smile at him sadly, shrug with one shoulder.

“I don’t think they’ll be funny now.” You reply, and for a moment, Flip wonders if anything will be funny again.

He can hear the same thought in your head.

“Tell me anyway?” Flip asks, begs, grasps your hands in his and brings them back to his cheeks, holding you, holding you as you’re holding him.

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

They’re dropping bombs, on the jungle.

Flip doesn’t know why, it doesn’t look like there’s anything there, just trees.

Birds fly frantically, try not to get consumed by the flames or the smoke, and most of them fail. Flip watches as the thick dark plumes envelop them, hears the horrific squawking of terrified creatures. He doesn’t know if he actually can hear them, or if he’s imagining it.

“Zimmerman! Start firing!” Someone barks an order at him, and he hates it, hates that he has to obey.

There are machine guns mounted to the sides of the Huey, and Flip’s stomach swoops when he’s told to man one. Wasn’t it enough to drop bombs like rain? Wasn’t it enough to incinerate the jungle – they had to shoot at it too?

Flip was getting so fucking tired of shooting.

He’s the oldest in the platoon, oldest one in the helicopter. These fresh-faced kids have no idea what they’re doing, there was never any time to teach them. He has experience, so he’s the one who has to do it. It’s his second time in Vietnam, and between that and the work he did with the CSPD before coming back to this hell, he’s the man most qualified for the job – no matter how badly he doesn’t want to be.

He’s just thankful he’s not the one dropping the bombs.

“Now, Zimmerman!” They shout, and he grinds his jaw, thinks that if he’s going to have to do this, he’s going to do it his way.

Fuck it, he thinks as he puts the tape in anyway, slides it into the small cassette player in his pocket. He’s about to stick the earbuds in his ears when he sees Eric steeling himself, like he’s going to throw up.

It’s the kid’s first helicopter ride, and he’s terrified, Flip can see it in his face.

After thinking about it for a minute, he silently hands the kid the cassette player, shoves it against his chest. He’s heard your voice a million times, and this kid doesn’t have anyone. Not a single person back home, no one except his mother. If your voice can give him comfort for ten fucking minutes, he’ll be glad.

Flip puts the earmuffs back on his head, and fires into the blaze as the helicopter whips up the flames.

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

You tell him as the sun starts to rise, as the purple light of dawn makes way for pinks and oranges and red. He listens and despite himself, he laughs, despite everything, it’s funny.

The way you tell the stories are funnier than the stories themselves, most of them belonging to the world of you had to be there. He tries not to dwell on the fact that he wasn’t – he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there.

But you tell him, and he listens, and he laughs, laughs like he hasn’t laughed in a long time, and suddenly it’s the next day wholly and completely. The birds chirp and that’s how Flip knows he’s home without a doubt, resolutely – Vietnam didn’t have these birds.

“I was thinking,” You say, pressed so close to him on the couch, cheeks hurting from laughing like you haven’t done in a long time, “Of visiting the station today. Letting the guys know you’re home.”

“Yes.” Flip responds right away, the realization of his friends hitting him like a ton of bricks. “Yes, I want to see them.”

“Can I make you breakfast?” You ask, and his stomach growls, grumbles and groans, and you smile, take that for a yes.

When you sit him at the table he feels like he’s in limbo, like he’s never left and has been gone for a hundred years. The table is the same as it’s always been, the counters and the fridge and the stove and the oven all the same. The sink is the same and the walls are the same and the window is the same.

So why does it feel so different?

He catches his reflection in the glass of a vase filled with fresh flowers, wildflowers from the garden.

He doesn’t like what he sees. He feels old.

His facial hair has kind of gotten out of control, he thinks, staring at his reflection, trying to avert his eyes from his own judgmental gaze. It’s wild, wiry, it’s not terribly attractive. He doesn’t know how you can look at him so lovingly, so happily, when he looks like a man crazed.

“Ketsl?” He asks, and you rush to face him, rush to give him whatever he might want, might need.

“Yeah honey?” You respond, abandoning the pan on the stovetop to kneel at his feet, not wanting to overwhelm him.

He’s already overwhelmed.

“Before we go to the station, could you clean me up?” He asks, runs a hand over his goatee and sighs real deep. “I’d do it but…”

He doesn’t need to tell you that he’s afraid of his hands shaking while he holds the razor, afraid of accidentally cutting himself and losing it. He’s so afraid of losing it.

Has he already lost?

“Of course I’ll do it.” You say, sincere and so in love, eager to help. “After breakfast, we’ll shower and I’ll trim you right up.”

He blushes, holds your hand, kisses the fingertips there, and you playfully scratch under his chin, playfully tug on his ears.

“Thank you.” He smiles softly, suddenly shy, but you’re not having it.

You kiss him all over, smooch the sides of his nose, big smacks that have him laughing.

“Of course,” You say over and over again, “Of course.”

Because it’s not something you would even think twice about doing, and he knows this. It’s second nature to you, wanting to be there for him.

His heart soars.

“I love you.” He says, can’t get enough of saying it, can’t can’t can’t, so he says it again.

“I love you more, my handsome man.” You tug on his ear and he blushes, “Even when you’re scruffy, you’re my handsome man.”

He smiles and you smile back, until the smell of something on the stovetop burning reaches his nostrils.

“What’s that smell?” He asks, before things go dark.

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

Eric calms at the sound of your voice, and Flip wonders what you’re saying, what you’re talking about. The kid stares out into the jungle, has to squint from the heat of the fire.

Flip wonders. He knows he’ll listen later, listen as soon as they land – but then anxiety spikes.

What if he doesn’t land?

What if they’re another sitting duck in the sky, another bird that comes crashing down? So many helicopters have been shot down.

Flip has to resist the urge the rip the earbuds out of Eric’s head, suddenly so possessive of you – he doesn’t think he can bear it if he dies, and someone else gets to hear your voice.

But he doesn’t, he fires.

And the bombs drop, and the jungle burns.

A kid named Sam is the first one to notice it, the smell.

“Someone cookin’ bacon down there?” He asks in his thick Southern drawl, from Arkansas or Alabama, one of those. Flip didn’t bother keeping track anymore, so many kids kept coming and going.

He can’t possibly keep track, not with all of them dying.

Was it even worth getting attached, getting invested in any of them? He didn’t know.

But through all those thoughts Flip frowns, because he’s right, it does smell like bacon, like it’s been left on the stove too long, like it’s burning.

He looks in horror down at the bright orange sea beneath him, if he looks hard enough, he thinks he can see the tops of houses, straw things burned down to a crisp. If he looks hard enough, if he looks through the trees and the blazing roaring fires, he can see people running for their lives, can see them tiny like ants as he shoots and shoots the machine gun like he’s been told.

And dread washes down the back of his neck, freezes him, finger squeezed tight on the trigger when he realizes, when he figures it out.

If he looks hard enough, he can hear the screams of men and women and children burned alive. Scorched flesh and agony, smoke stinging, smell turning all of their stomachs at the abject horror of what they’re doing.

The smell hits their noses all at once as the helicopters pass by, and no amount of your soothing words can stop Eric from throwing up over the side of the Huey.

He’s not alone, they’re all like that, all except Flip, who doesn’t have the luxury of leaving the gun.

He hates himself for firing, hates the government for making him do it.

He has to close his eyes, screams too loud, too loud.

He can’t tell if they’re his or not.

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

He’s out of his seat, bolting for the bathroom before you know what’s happening.

It’s too much, it’s all at once, it’s all-consuming, the stench. That familiar stench, he’s sick, he’s retching into the toilet, heaving up nothing. He’s crying, all of a sudden he’s crying, and he wants to scream – he wants to scream and rage and throw a fucking fit as that smell curls into the back of his throat and stings his eyes and he’s surrounded by fire and rage and pain again.

You’re running in after him, latching yourself to his back, trying to ground him, trying to bring him off a brink of something, not knowing what. You didn’t know, didn’t know what went wrong, Flip isn’t telling you. He’s just hoarse and coughing and retching into the toilet, knees shattering underneath his frame as he clings to the porcelain bowl for dear life, as you cling to him.

There’s no words for this, to describe this, you don’t know, it kills you that you don’t know. It kills Flip that he can’t explain it, not when napalm explosions burn behind his eyelids, not when he’s coughing on smoke that isn’t there, not when he’s breathing in that smell that smell that smell.

“You’re okay, you’re safe.” You tell him, trying your best to remain calm, knowing he can’t handle any outbursts right now, knowing he can’t, “You’re home. You’re home with me, you’re safe.”

Maybe if you say it enough, he’ll believe it.

Everything is spinning, he can’t tell, doesn’t know where he is. He sees tile flooring and ferns at the same time, why is everything so green? He feels your hands on him and he knows that’s what’s real – but is it?

“I – I’m – ” Flip’s hyperventilating, and he’s crying, tears staining his face, staining the bowl of the toilet, and you hold him tight, wrap your arms around him.

He panics for a moment, afraid you’re the enemy, afraid you’re going to kill him, but the kisses on his back that you put there bring him back, pull him out. You’re the only one who would kiss his back, you’re the only one.

“You’re home. You’re not in the jungle, you’re in the bathroom. Our bathroom. You’re safe. You have to breathe.” You chant like it’s a prayer, repeat it over and over in a gentle tone, so gentle with him. “You have to breathe.”

He feels like he’s going to shatter, feels like he’s going to explode, like he’s going to burn burn burn. What’s that smell?

He knows that smell.

“I’m sorry,” He sobs, over and over, and you kiss his back now drenched with sweat. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t know what he apologizes for, if it’s the killing, the burning, the fires, the destruction, or if it’s the fear can’t place, the outburst he can’t control. It’s got its claws in him deep, so deep.

You hold him tight, and bring him out. Pull him back out.

“You’re okay, you’re safe with me I promise. I promise.” You say, a steady anchor even though you’re scared shitless.

You can’t let him know that, can’t let him see how scared you are – you don’t want him to think you’re scared of him. You’re not, you’re not scared of him, you’re terrified for him.

He wipes his mouth with his sleeve and turns to face you, buries his face in your neck.

You hold him and kiss his forehead, he’s drenched in sweat.

“We’re going to shower, okay? You need to shower.” You can’t have him sitting in his own sweat and sick, you won’t.

Flip nods, tries to get himself under control, tries tries tries.

When he nods, you nod too, stand up and turn the faucet on, pull the tab so the water sprays from the showerhead above. You open the window, turn on the exhaust fan, try to air out the room.

As he stands up on shaky legs and the water warms, you bolt into the kitchen, grab the pan that had the forgotten crisps of breakfast burning, the bacon and eggs and hashbrowns. That’s the smell, you realize, and suddenly you hate it, you hate the kitchen, hate yourself for being so stupid. You fling open the windows, take the whole pan and run it to the garbage outside, throw the whole fucking thing away.

You’ll buy a new pan, new spatula, you don’t give a shit. You never want to see that again, you’ll never cook bacon again.

Not if it does this to your man, to your Flip.

When you come back inside, Flip’s naked, has his clothes folded on the counter. He reaches for you but you hesitate, you pull your clothes off first and throw them in the corner of the room, afraid the smell has lingered on the fabric, has stained the fibers.

Only once you’re naked you embrace him, let him yank you into his arms. The water from the shower is steaming up the bathroom, and you reach over to draw a heart on the mirror, right around the reflection of Flip’s face.

“You’re safe.” You tell him one more time, and he nods, he believes you.

You search his eyes and you find them clear, he’s there, he believes you.

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

The helicopters begin to descend, and Flip can’t help but think they’re crazy. They’re fucking crazy for going there, for being in this country.

The kids are all sitting down, legs swinging over the side of the helicopter as they fire their own machine guns unto the village below them, because it is a village, not just a jungle. It’s never just the jungle, it would seem.

They don’t belong here, how can they be winning? They can’t be, not like this.

You don’t fight wars like this.

The men in the platoon all get themselves ready to land. They load and reload their guns. Some pray out loud, some sit silently and stare at the sky. Everyone has their hand over their mouth, everyone is gagging at the stench.

The wind whips it up, carries it up into their faces, and Flip thinks he’s going to hell for this, they all are.

Eric sees, just as Flip saw. Eric can tell he’s losing his nerve, so he gives him an earbud.

He hands it to Flip with wide eyes, terrified eyes, eyes that ask questions Flip doesn’t have answers for.

Flip accepts it, his heart thudding wildly, and tries his best to block out everything but the sound of your voice. It’s soft and sweet and gentle and not at all like the chaos around him not at all like the death and destruction he causes, he takes part in. You’re so much more gentle and human than half these monsters, the pilots who laugh at the explosions, the ones who give the orders with glee in their smiles.

Flip doesn’t know how anyone can smile, like this.

Everyone is shouting, but no one can hear, not over all the noise, not through the roar of the engine and machine gun fire, not through the screams and the explosions and the sounds of trees cracking, bending over backwards too far until they snap.

He doesn’t even know what you’re saying, can’t really process the meaning of the words you’re speaking, even though they’re right in his ear.

He thinks he catches something, a fragment, through the chaos before they’re landing, thinks he hears an

‘I love you.’

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

The shower is a blessing, hot water, scalding hot, scrubbing away the last legs of his fear.

“Come on, let’s clean up.” You say, and he feels like he could cry from the way you speak to him, the way you talk to him like he’s normal, like he’s not crazy. He didn’t know what he would do if you thought he was crazy, after everything else if you thought he had lost it.

It’s purifying, the water. He sighs as it darkens his hair, as it loosens the muscles in his shoulder.

When the water runs down his legs, it runs down clear. No pink, no red, no black of soot or brown dirt. No green.

Clear.

He now knows why so many faiths, religions, creeds all use water. He knows now.

He can’t remember the last time he showered in something other than a river, water that was truly clean, not just fresh.

Suddenly, it seems like the most important thing in the world to touch you, to cleanse you of his nightmares, of the tears he pressed into your skin. He washes your hair, takes his time. He did this for you every day, once upon a time. He did this for you now, and it was just like then.

His hands didn’t even shake, for once. The relief in his chest was almost enough to make him dizzy, when he realized his hands weren’t shaking.

He scrubs your scalp with shampoo, lathers and foams it up, laughs to himself about how you look. He breaths deeply, breaths in the orange and bergamot, a smell that is uniquely you. The perfume of it fills his lungs and he’s at peace again completely, once he has you rinse your hair.

You in turn, wash his body.

He lets his eyes close, lets himself simply feel the way your hands glide over his skin, the way the bath brush makes soothing circles across his chest and his back. He feels more and more like himself with every circle of the bristly brush, with every foamy sudsy pass of your hands.

He ducks to kiss you right under the spray, because he has to, has to show his thanks somehow.

You kiss him back, in in that kiss you tell him of course, of course you’ll do this for him.

You’ll do anything for him.

 When the hot water has run out and the shower is over, the two of you wrap yourselves in soft white towels. The fabric is soothing on his skin, and Flip revels in it.

You sit on the counter, spread your legs enough that he can stand in between them as you search the medicine cabinet for the shaving kit.

He only wants a trim, so that’s what he’ll get, you think with a smile as you fish out the small scissors and the tweezers. Flip’s goatee had a habit of growing kind of erratically, it always made you huff out a little laugh, random hairs popping up nowhere near the rest of them.  

Flip’s mesmerized by the way you look, the light coming in from the bathroom window that’s still open from earlier. It’s late enough in the morning now that the sky is a beautiful blue filled with white fluffy clouds. The light is buttery and warm, and catches on your skin making you glow in a way he was sure only existed in dreams.

When you pluck one of his hairs and he winces, he knows it’s real.

The thought makes him smile, which makes you smile.

“You gotta be careful,” You tell him with a grin as you pluck another one, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re so beautiful.” Flip sighs, and you blush.

God, how he missed that blush.

But it’s true, you’re gorgeous sitting there on the counter, your hair wrapped up in a towel in a way that Flip still doesn’t really understand. You’re gorgeous with those little silver scissors in your hand as you wait for him to relax his mouth so you can clip away some of the length of his mustache.

The corner of his mouth twitches from how it tickles, and you grin.

“You’re my favorite person, you know that?” You tell him, and he nods, crinkles his nose as you pluck another hair. “I’m sorry, I won’t ever make that again.”

He knows what you mean, and he nods. He sighs.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” he admits, and that truth scares him, makes him angry. “It’s frustrating, I don’t know what that was, what happened.”

You’re quiet for a little while as you trim the goatee, as you comb through the mustache and the beard, as you smooth in some oil so it doesn’t go all frizzy.

“I know you don’t want to tell me about it, but do you think maybe you might be comfortable talking to someone else?” You ask softly, carefully, not wanting to upset him.

He frowns, but you don’t see it because you’re putting the shaving kit away, rinsing the stuff down the sink.

“That’s not true.” He shakes his head, and you look at him with soft eyes.

“Hm?” You ask, lost in thought as water goes down the drain.

“I don’t not want to tell you.” He explains, fiddles with the star around your neck, “I want to tell you everything. I just don’t have the words, not right now. I don’t know how to say it, there’s so much.”

You’re thoughtful for a moment, always so thoughtful, and he looks just past you to the sight of him in the mirror.

Cleaned up and showered like this, he recognizes himself. Your hands did that to him, and he finds he just has to kiss them again, shower them with love and gratitude.

If he had the energy to sink to his knees then and there, he would, but he doesn’t, so he can’t.

He’s so exhausted, all of a sudden. A whole night of no sleep, and the smell of burnt bacon makes him exhausted. Go fucking figure.

“You don’t have to tell me anything all at once.” You say, reading his mind, because you have to be some kind of mind reader, he thinks, “But I need to know how to help you, how to avoid things like that. I don’t want you to ever have that again, if I can help it.”

“I don’t know what else there is, I don’t know.” He whispers, hating that he has to admit it, hating that he doesn’t know how to make this easier for either of you.

“Okay.” You nod, understanding, always so understanding. You let him kiss your fingertips and he could almost weep against them. He doesn’t, he doesn’t have any more tears, but you feel it anyway. “We don’t have to go to the station, if you don’t want. We can just stay in bed.”

“No, no I want to. I want to see everyone.” Flip says, and you smile, proud of him.

His heart soars at that smile.

“Let me remake breakfast? We’ll have something simple, cereal. I got the cereal you like, I’ve been eating it.” You blush, and Flip can’t help but tease you.

“Oh yeah?” He had always been fighting with you about his cereal, and you roll your eyes, already ready for an ‘I told you so.’

“Yeah – I have to add sugar though, it’s so bland!” You defend your tastes and he laughs, and you laugh, and he picks you off the counter and walks the both of you to the bedroom.

It doesn’t matter that his entire body is sore or that his legs are jello, it doesn’t matter. He’s got you in his arms, he’s going to visit his friends at his job that’s all still there, all waiting for him. Nothing matters anymore, at least he tries to tell himself that.

“It’s delicious just the way it is.” Flip says, and you throw a pair of underwear at him, blush crimson as he tosses it aside and tackles you instead.

“Gimme a kiss?” You ask, and this one is different, this one is hot and slow as he licks into your mouth, as he lets a hand sneak down between your legs.

You fall apart for him, and he takes everything you give him, gives it right back.

When you gasp into his mouth, he forgets about everything, just for a while.

But a while is enough, when it’s with you.

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

Thank you all for reading! Tagging some pals (if you’d like to be added to the tag list or taken off of it, please just let me know!  @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kylo-renne @callmehopeless @kyloxfem @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @solotriplets   @fullofbees @spinebarrel @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler  @ladygrey03 @venusianmaiden marvelous-blog-221 @edwardseyelashes @softcrybabykid @tinyplanet-explorers

[angelstrenchcoat-67]

Matchmakers

Pairing: Alex x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Jealous Alex, fluff

Series Summary: Since I joined the cast of Supernatural, 5 years ago, they have made it their mission to find me a boyfriend, but things haven’t been exactly easy. But when a new face joins the cast, the Padaleckis, the Ackles, and the Collins take it upon themselves to use the hiatus to become matchmakers.

PART 9 

"I want you to bring him back by nine" Misha stops us right as we are going out.

"Leave them alone" Vicky rolls her eyes then looks back at us with a sweet smile on her face. "Enjoy the night guys"

"Use protection" Jared taps Alex on the shoulder but winces when Gen walks by, pinching his side.

"Don't be annoying" Gen scolds him.

"But if you don't, name the kid after me" Jensen comes in with a sandwich in his hand. Well, mostly in his mouth.

"Okay, we are just gonna go" Alex opens the door, letting me walk out first.

"Bye" I wave back before walking out, Alex right behind me.

He hurries pass me to open up the car door for me. "My lady"

"Oh, thank you" I kiss him on the cheek before stepping inside the car. "If you behave, you'll get more of those"

"And what do I have to do for more of this?" He bends down to kiss me on the lips and without waiting for me to react, he pulls back.

"You are such a dork" I giggle as he just winks at me before closing the door of my side.

He runs back to the other side, climbing with a huge smile on his face.

"Someone is excited" I grin as he starts he car.

"I've been wanting to ask you out for a while now" He admits, a pink shade over his cheeks.

"Why did you never asked?" I frown, placing my hand over his knee.

"I just never thought you'd agree" He looks at me shyly before turning back at the road.

"Really? We were always flirting" I chuckle, giving him a little squeeze.

"Yeah but I wasn't sure, I thought you were just joking around" He bites the side of his lip and I try to hold myself back from kissing him.

"Well, better late than never" I look out the window as we drive by an amazing view of the sunset.

"So, it's too early for dinner so do you want to get some frozen yogurt before?"

"Yes, sounds great" I nod as he grabs my hand that's resting on his knee.

We drive for a couple of minutes, exchanging a few smiles and giggles as he catches me staring at his gorgeous face.

Alex stops the car in front of a frozen yogurt stand but there is nowhere to park. "Why don't you go ordering while I look for a place to park?"

"What do you want?" I ask him as I pick up my bag from the floor of the car.

"Just get me whatever you are getting" He smiles before giving me a quick kiss.

I get off the car and thankfully the shop is not too crowded. As I wait in line, I notice there's a group of girls staring at me, whispering between themselves.

"Excuse me" One of them steps a little closer. "Can we get a picture?"

"Absolutely" I give them a bright smile as they all move closer to me.

We take a couple of selfies and I sign a few things they have in hand like a napkin or their phone cases. They start asking a few questions so I decide to send Jared a text to see if he can send me a video of him alongside Jensen and Misha saying hi. Like a minute goes by and then I receive it so I show it to the girls. With a big thank you, they walk away, thankfully not gathering too much attention from other people.

I order two frozen yogurts with my favorite fruits and treats and I go sit by a empty table as I see Alex walking towards me, running his hand through his hair.

"Hey there handsome" I give him a wink as he pulls the chair next to me. "Here you go"

He grabs his cup, giving me a quick kiss before leaning back on his chair. "Thanks"

"So, do you think we should talk to Eric and Rob and the others?" I ask, bringing the spoon to my mouth.

"Do you want to?" Alex looks at me, placing the cup on the table. "Because we have to be sure because it'll be like becoming a serious thing"

The words sting a little more that I thought they would. Does he not want it to be like a serious thing?

"That came out wrong" Alex closes his eyes then opens them to find me looking at the floor. "Hey, look at me"

He grabs my hand so I bring my eyes up to meet his. "I told you before, I like you and I want this to be a serious thing. This is not just a hiatus fling, I'm in this, I just want to be sure that you are"

"I am, I really like you and I want to see where this gets us" I feel my breath coming back to its normal state.

"Then we'll talk to them when we find the time" He gives my hand a light squeeze. "We just have to make sure no paparazzi catches us"

"We'll have to cross our fingers for that one"

-

"I just think they should make Blaire and Jack a thing" Alex laughs as he deeps his fork on the cheesecake we are sharing.

"I think you just want an excuse to kiss me more" I smile cheekily, bringing a piece of dessert to my mouth.

"Maybe" He leans in to kiss me, a grin spread across his face.

"Y/N?" Someone interrupts us before I can even lean in. I turn back only to find someone I never thought I'd see.

"Trent?" I gasp, standing up to hug the blonde haired guy in front of me.

"How've you been?" Trent asks me as I take a step back.

"Great, I'm doing amazing" I smile, blushing a little.

"Yeah! I started watching that show you are in just so I could see you" He stares at me for a couple of seconds before speaking again. "You are looking as beautiful as always"

"Ahem" Alex's voice makes me snap back.

"Oh, sorry!" I turn back to Alex. "Alex this is Trent, a high school friend. Trent this is Alex, my-"

"Oh, you are her coworker" Trent stretches his hand to shake Alex's.

"I'm actually the boyfriend" Alex forces a smile as he extends his hands.

He is my what?

"Oh" Trent swallows before turning back to me. "And what are you doing here?"

"We are just on vacations with a some of the cast" I sit down back at my chair as Trent pulls one from a near by table. "And you?"

"My sister's wedding" He replies as I notice Alex roll his eyes.

"Wait, Miranda is getting married?" I beam, remembering when I used to go shopping with her.

"Yeah, the whole family is here" He leans in, a little closer than usual. "You should come with me one day to see them before we leave"

"We have a pretty busy schedule so I don't think that'd be possible" Alex steps in, playing with his straw.

"We only have a few days left but thanks" I look back at Trent as he and Alex share a look I can't read.

"Mom really misses you" Trent places a hand on my arm. "She says that you will always be her favorite daughter in law"

Alex chokes a little as he places his glass back on the table. "You two dated?"

"We were a thing through high school but we broke up because we had to go to different colleges but we remained good friends" I explain to him but Trent immediately jumps in.

"We were voted most likely to get married" He gives Alex a cocky smile before turning to me. "I can't believe we ran into each other"

"How lucky" Alex gives him a forced smile before leaning back in his chair, not meeting my eyes.

"And how's your mom?" Trent asks, trying to keep up the conversation.

-

"Alex" I poke his side as he stares at the road.

"Hmm?" He doesn't even look at me, just stretches his neck to the side a little.

"Why are you so quiet?" I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Nothing" He mutters so I start placing light kisses on his cheek then on his jaw and on the side of his mouth.

"Tell me" I insist, moving so that I can kiss his lips.

"Were you really voted most likely to get married?" He asks, biting the inside of his cheeks.

"You are jealous" I laugh so his face goes hard again.

"Whatever" He growls, holding the wheel even harder than before.

"Babe" I smile, sitting straighter. "It was high school, besides I didn't know you back then otherwise I would have been all over you"

"You are looking as beautiful as always" Alex mocks him, doing a funny face. "What a pretentious dick"

"Aleex" I grin, pulling one of his hands from the wheel to hold it between mine. "You don't have to be jealous"

"He took all of your attention" His voice gets a little rougher so I know he is not joking anymore. "It was supposed to be our first date"

"You are right, I'm sorry" I bring his hand to my lips to kiss it slightly. "I'll make it up to you"

"Jealousy is not a really nice feeling" He pulls over at the entrance of the house.

"Tell me about it" I roll my eyes, remembering the day at the beach. "Seeing those girls at the beach with their arms around you wasn't exactly my cup of tea"

"Wait, you were jealous?" He is the one smirking this time.

"Shut up" I try to stop the grin forming on my face as he leans in to kiss me. "Hey, you called yourself my boyfriend"

"I did not" He huffs, turning off the car. "You are imagining things"

"Alex" I shove him away but he moves closer anyway.

"It just felt natural" He looks back at me a little nervously. "I'm sorry"

"You were trying to mark your territory like some sort of dog but I forgive you" I squeeze his hand before noticing Misha is staring at us through the window as Jared turns the lights on and off.

————————————————————————

So sorry Chapter 9 took me so long but I had a lot of things going on in the last couple of days so I wasn’t getting any chance to write. Hope you like this.

Tag List:

@fallenangelsneverfade @mahalaraewolfe @typicalweirdbookworm @xostephanie @sam-winchester168 @theoraeken9 @dustycelt @winter-moons @sillydecoy @in-my-heart-and-on-my-sleeves @mannls @spnjerks67 @checkboss22 @ahopelessshipper @hortonhearsahoeblr @spnimpalaimagines @literally-just-for-fanfics @allison-rosewood-maximoff @beepbeepanna @randomstuff-idontwannatalkboutit @mypassionsarenysins @waywardwboys @l4life @caswinchester2000 @spn-obession @expectosel @morgannope

[nuggetpie]

Since I have the flu I have plenty of time to work on this fic

I’m hoping that by posting the first bit maybe some feedback might really get me going to work on it and finish? It’s a two part  memory loss kid fic (first from Jack’s pov, 2nd from Bitty’s) and so far I have ~1500 of part one and ~2300 of part 2. I do have some personal experience with concussions and brain injuries but the only formal studying i’ve done on brains is neuro/psycholinguistics which has no base here. There are a LOT of liberties I am taking and will continue to take :x Also this is like...... not even proofread, let alone beta’d

There is a lot more to do and I still need to figure out how to end part 1 but uhh.... here it goes? The first 1500 words of part one

***

There’s a child in the bed next to Jack.

He finds it strange because he’s an adult. His neighbor is up and about and probably no older than four. Jack wonders where the line is drawn between pediatrics and other specialized units.

His harangued father was around but Jack thinks he’s in a meeting with Dr. O right now.

Jack himself isn’t very sure why he’s still here for a concussion. He knows he’s been having memory problems. His mother might have mentioned it. He knows his age he knows quite a bit about history and hockey but he can’t remember the game that sent him here or the teammate who supposedly camped out in the ER. He remembers the month and who won the Stanley Cup for the last ten years but he doesn’t remember having friends or who his nurse was… is? Has the shift changed over yet?

His roommate is four. Jack doesn’t know where Alicia is or where the boys father is but he hopes they come back soon because the boy is climbing into Jack’s bed, pull-up peeking out of his gown.

“Um,” says Jack.

“...” says the boy.

“Have we… met?” He asks, because it’s likely that they have. It’s odd, Jack doesn’t remember being told about his memory issues but he knows he has them. Kind of like Finding Dory.

… is that a book or a movie?

“Where’s your father?” Jack tries again. The boy stares. “Your… uncle? Brother? Youthful grandfather?” He keeps trying even though he knows the blonde man is the boy's father (how does he know?). But all the boy does is blink owlishly up at him and make himself comfortable under Jack’s blanket. Well, all right then. Far be it from him to deny a toddler comfort while waiting for his father. He lets himself bask in the contact as he waits for his own parent.

It’s nearly ten minutes later that Bob walks through the door. Jack assumes he’s just forgotten his dad coming into the country so he raises his hand casually and shrugs as much as he can without dislodging the boy.

“I cross international borders because my son has a brain injury and all I get is a-” he waves pathetically.

“Sorry. I didn’t actually know if you’d been here yet. I just assumed I forgot.”

Jack can tell by his father’s face that he hasn’t spoken to anyone about his condition in depth yet.

“Jack, this all just happened two days ago.”

That… is actually very surprising. Jack looks around the room at the dresser, the television, the children’s decorations in the corner of the boy’s side of the room, and all he can think is that it feels more familiar than two days. He lets out an unimpressive, “huh,” then, “why did you come two days after mom?”

Bob approaches the bed far too carefully. The boy in Jack’s lap raises his arms up until Bob picks him up and sits on the side of Jack’s bed. Jack knows that Bob is fond of kids but picking up strange toddler patients is a little much. He’s trying to collect his thoughts enough to say so when his dad speaks again.

“Jack…” he stops. Jack can see that he’s choosing his words very carefully. “Your mother only beat me her two hours while I was checking into the hotel. We were in France until this morning. How much… where’s she gone? Where’s your doctor?”

“Mom is with the boy’s father I think. Maybe Dr. O. Or…. somewhere.”

Bob mouths “the boy” just as Alicia and the blonde father come back. There’s a flurry of activity that Jack can’t concentrate on. All he knows is that he’s in his room, alone, and there’s a boy in the bed next to him.

Jack’s roommate is a four year old boy in pull-ups and a hospital gown. He has dark blonde hair and huge eyes, all partially hidden by a wrap of mesh keeping wires attached to his head. He’s sleeping at the moment and Jack envies him. The lights of the room are dim and he’s tired, yet awake. He feels ready for bed. Or maybe he’s just woken up?

The boy’s father is in a gliding chair between the two beds. He’s young and attractive and sitting ramrod straight as he carefully avoids Jack’s eyes. Jack feels awkward about that. Sharing close quarters with someone makes him feel obligated to talk but he can never think of something normal to say. Part of him wants to see if he might have access to a private room. Another part of him wishes his mom were here because he doesn’t want to be alone. An overwhelmingly large part of him thinks the blonde dad is very cute. It’s a new feeling for Jack, finding someone attractive so easily. He doesn't hate it.

“What a picture we make,” Blonde dad says in a sleepy southern drawl. His voice is as low as the lights and Jack thinks he could listen to him speak for days. Then he realizes that the child is asleep and blonde dad is probably talking to Jack. Were they having a conversation? Had they been introduced? Is it rude to ask? Or more rude to assume?

Blonde dad looks over and must see something deserving of pity. He gives a sad smile. “Now, don’t work yourself up into a state, sweetpea. I know you’ve got some memory problems going on. You go ahead and ask anything you need. Don’t be embarrassed.”

When people tell you not to be embarrassed, it’s probably because you should be. But Jack feels like he could believe anything that lovely thick voice says. His mind is going too fast and sluggish at the same time. It takes him a while to form the words. “Where are my parents?”

“Just went to their hotel for the night. They’ll be back in the morning. They’ve got a nasty case of jet lag.”

Jack nods sagely, an image in his head of Bob fleeing the aggressive pigeons of Paris. “He hates birds.” He knows that won’t make sense to blonde dad but…

But…

Blonde dad smiles brilliantly. “They were in France.”

Obviously, Jack wants to say. He wants to ask how much he’s spoken to his parents in the last however long.

“What’s your name?” He asks instead and hopes he’ll remember. Blonde dad looks back at his sleeping son and makes a sound like a cut off sigh.

“I’m Eric. This is Julien.”

“He’s very friendly.” Jack says. He doesn’t know why. Julien is asleep which is a rather neutral thing to do. Eric smiles at him and shrugs a single shoulder.

“He’s very shy with strangers.”

“Well, he can’t… ” Jack squints at the sleeping boy, as if that would give him answers. “Talk?”

Eric makes a face, still turned mostly away from Jack. “Won’t,” he says. Jack makes an inquiring sound. “He can talk just fine but he won’t. Not lately, at least. It comes and goes but it’s been worse for a few days. I don’t… I can’t…” Eric turns completely to face Julien’s bed as his voice cracks. Jack doesn’t need to know him to know that he’s crying. Jack doesn’t push and doesn’t  ask any more questions.

Jack’s roommate is four years old because they have the same neurologist. Possibly. Dr. O is very casual but intelligent and Julien loves him dearly. The toddler raises his arms for a hug every time the man enters the room.

“How did his tests go, today?” Eric asks from the glider where he’d been sitting with his son. Dr. O pushes down the railing on the miniature bed so that he can sit and hold Julien at the same time.

“Dr. Stewart is optimistic. He’s responding somewhat but mostly it’s up to him. I can continue pull some strings for a little while, but…”

As Dr. O trails off, Eric’s face becomes pinched. He gets up from the chair so that he can fuss with the lights of the mini tree on the dresser.  Jack stares at the tree and wonders for some period time. A moment. A minute. A second. Was it Christmas?

“How can I take him home in this state? I can’t… I can’t be home enough to take care of him. And he needs that. I can’t… I don’t know…”

Between the dim lights of the room and the glowing Christmas tree, Eric looks beautiful even as he falls apart.

[stxrliasfics]

Two of Cups - Jack Hunter x Eric Matthews Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Never Bitten by the Bug

Eric told him that if he found the right person, he’d make time for them in his life—         

“Because as the two of you build a connection, you’ll become each other’s priority,” he had said.

Jack dwelled on that. “Then how do you know if you’re in love?”