#I dunno if it’ll be a reader insert or if this will turn into an OC thing

[caffeinatedavenger]

Am I maybe, mayyybeee writing Bucky fanfic?

Maybe.

[sugar-phoenix]

cowboy, you have a hard time wrapping things up neatly. ✦

synopsis: Boothill doesn't do things quietly. He's loud, and messy, and he likes doing things his way. Even though these all annoy you somewhat, the cowboy starts growing on you. And then one day, he does something unexpected. tags: f!reader, f/m, no smut, fluff, light angst, mentions of Boothill's past a/n: 2.5k words, this was a lot of fun to write. hope you guys enjoy it!

ao3 link here!

Your heels clacked as you walked down the halls, the ground littered with bodies and empty bullet shells. You sighed. Unlike Boothill, who left the remains of IPC soldiers and his mark everywhere in the form of bullet holes dotting the walls, you preferred to do your work neater, quieter. His loud whoops and hollers echoed down the corridor from ahead, making you cringe.

There were many things Boothill was in excess of. Too fierce. Too exposed. Too gleeful. Too loud.

You were not fond of loud.

“I got the place cleared for you, ma’am.” Boothill’s voice rang out like a bell.

“I noticed,” you responded, turning into the server room. In front of you, server towers loomed overhead, blinking with a million eyes. “You’re not very subtle, cowboy.”

“Subtle? Why would I wanna be subtle when I could strike fear into the heart of the IPC?” Boothill chuckled.

“Being subtle can be pretty scary,” you mused, going to the main terminal and typing the code you were given. “What could instigate more fear than an invisible threat you can’t see?”

“I dunno. I like to think that knowin’ who your enemy is and knowin’ that nothing can stop him is way more scary, lady.”

Boothill sank his pistol into his holster, then strode over to where you were standing, the sound of his body moving like oiled machinery.

“After all, ain’t knowin’ how you’ll die the most terrifyin’ thing of all?”

“Touché,” you conceded, scanning the database for the folder you wanted. Boothill waited at your side, and you felt a little shock that the man who was, only minutes ago a whirlwind of gunmetal and gleaming sharp teeth, could now stand so still.

Finally, you found the folder you were looking for, and you loaded it into a drive you inserted into the terminal. Boothill had offered the use of his own ports as a way to store the data, but you had refused. Data was no good to you if you could not parse through it with your own eyes.

“Alright, we’re done here,” you said as the download finished. “Let’s get out of this place.”

The cowboy at your side said nothing but smiled, flashing his razor teeth. You both stepped out into the hallway, only to be met with a new squadron of IPC guards.

“Looks like they sent the calvalry,” you remarked.

“Yeah? Well, if you know anythin’ about cowboys, you’ll know that we don’t take kindly to calvalry.”

And with that, he was off, shooting and hollering and kicking. You ducked back into the server room, letting the cowboy have his fun, and shook your head. When the sound of gunfire had stopped, Boothill leaned around the corner.

“‘S all clear! I took care of ‘em.”

You stepped out to find a pile of bodies and more bullet holes in the walls. Well, I guess this time it couldn’t be helped.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like my handiwork?” Boothill commented at your slightly dismayed expression.

“Cowboy,” you sighed, “you have a hard time wrapping things up neatly.”

He only laughed, a rough raucous sound that reverberated down the hallway as the two of you made your exit.

✦✦✦

You stood in the middle of the ballroom in a shape-hugging red gown, fanning yourself with a paper hand fan. Eyes searching the surrounding crowd, you looked for the familiar cowboy hat. You found Boothill standing against the back of the room, looking absolutely miserable in his suit. A smile creeped up your lips. It took a lot of hemming and hawing to get him to wear that suit.

“I need my body bare, otherwise I’ll overheat,” he’d said.

“Boothill, darling, it’ll just be for the night. You’re going to cause an uproar if you just walk in with that sorry excuse for a jacket. It would be absolutely scandalous. We need to be subtle tonight.” You had adopted the pet name after a few missions with him. The two of you were slowly becoming fond of each other.

“What’s wrong with a little ruckus?” Boothill had asked. “I like ruckus.”

“I know you do, but just this once we could do without it. Come on. You get to cause ruckus every other mission we’ve had so far. You can live without making noise just this once.”

To your surprise, he conceded, taking the suit from your hands and walking to a room, muttering and cursing under his breath.

Now you felt a little sorry as you watched him. He looked like a dog that had been forced into a humiliating outfit just for its owner’s enjoyment.

Your eyes met, and you flashed your fan over your face. The signal. You had gotten what you came here for. Relief flashed over Boothill’s face, and he made his way through the crowd to you as you started walking towards the exit.

You stopped abruptly when you saw the exit.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Boothill asked, then, “oh,” as he saw what caused you to pause.

The archways were lined with more security guards than either of you had remembered when you first came in.

“They know we’re here,” you whispered. “They’re waiting to catch us on the way out.”

Boothill said nothing. You saw the calculations happen in his crosshair eyes. Slowly, he smiled, revealing his shark teeth in a devilish grin.

“Oh Boothill. No.” You said with dread.

“Oh but we don’t have much o’ a choice, do we?” he whispered. “Just let me do what I do best, darlin’.”

You looked at him, and he caught the worry in your eyes.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me. I always get out, don’t I?”

You sighed.

“Fine.”

Boothill smiled wider than he had the entire night, and stepped away from you, making his way back into the crowd. You reached under the slit in your dress, hand on the dagger strapped to your thigh. The feeling of the hilt under your hand grounded you. It wasn’t long until you heard three deafening gunshots, and glass raining down from above. Chaos and panic erupted, and over all of them, the familiar laugh you’d grown to love. You watched as the archways were flooded, and the guards rushed towards the cause of the ruckus.

Taking the chance, you merged in with the panicked crowd streaming outside the ballroom, as more gunshots echoed behind you. Once you were out, you rushed to your sports car, and got into the driver’s seat. It roared to life as you turned the ignition, and you took it out of the car park and drove it to wait in front of the entrance. Panicked partygoers ran around your car, but your eyes were focused on the entrance. The way you white-knuckled the steering wheel would definitely leave imprints.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered. “Come on, cowboy.”

A beat passed, then two, then ten, and Boothill was nowhere to be seen. You got anxious, watching the large golden arches that led into the ballroom with the giant crystal chandelier that hung above them outside.

Just when you were about to accept that Boothill had been captured, or worse, dead, he emerged from the entrance, a crazed grin on his face, his expensive suit torn in shreds. You sighed in relief. Just before he reached the car, he turned around, aiming upwards, and pulled his trigger. Five bullets flew through the air, severing the chains of the giant chandelier. The guards chasing Boothill were trapped in the ballroom as the light fixture fell to the ground in front of them, shattered glass scattering everywhere. Boothill cackled, then leapt over the hood, taking his seat in the passenger side. You wasted no time flooring the gas pedal, the car screeching away from the ballroom.

“Should teach those muddlefudgers not to waste money on showin’ off,” Boothill laughed.

You rolled your eyes, smiling.

“Hard time wrapping things up neatly,” you said.

“That’s just my trademark, darlin.’”

The two of you glanced at each other, grinning wildly, as your car sped into the night.

✦✦✦

You gazed out the windows of the Astral Express. The endless expanse of space unrolled before you, a landscape of endless opportunities.

Boothill had been called to the Astral Express for a favor, and he thought you should tag along.

“They’re a pretty cool bunch, you should come meet ‘em. Who knows, they might come in handy for ya in the future.”

You didn’t need the cowboy’s persuasion to come and meet the famed Nameless. You were more than happy for a chance to come face to face with these trailblazers, to converse with them and see how they operated.

The Astral Express crew surprised you at first. They were less of an organized team and more like a ragtag family of people from all different walks of life. Pom Pom, the little conductor of the express, scrutinized you for a bit until they sniffed (disapprovingly or approvingly you couldn’t tell), and announced, “Pom Pom welcomes you aboard the Express.”

Soon after, you got to meet the rest of the Express crew. There was March 7th, the cheerful girl with bubblegum-pink hair. There was Dan Heng, the quiet, reserved young man who often kept to himself in the Astral Express' database archives. There was Stelle, the mysterious gray-haired girl who was apparently a repository for a Stellaron. She kept quiet at first, but soon you learned she had a joke for every occasion and didn't hesitate to crack one even at the most inopportune moments, to the chagrin of her companions. Then to the two stewards of the Express: Himeko, the red-haired, confident navigator, and Welt, deep in thought and with a walking stick he kept close to himself at all times.

 Boothill seemed to fit right in. He was the one who introduced you excitedly to Dan Heng, cackling and talking about how they were “best buds.” Despite Dan Heng’s embarassment at first, you could tell he enjoyed the presence of the cowboy. In that way, you felt a sort of kinship with him.

 The two of you hung out on the Express for a few days, as Boothill helped them with one of their trips. They were currently orbiting a planet named Jarilo VI. Boothill had encouraged you to stay aboard the Express and take a break, but today, Himeko saw you watching the window.

"If you want, you can go down with the rest of them," she said.

"I think I might,” you responded. “Forget what Boothill said about taking a break, I'm at my happiest when I'm working on something anyway."

She smiled knowingly.

It wasn't long before you landed on the cold planet, and it was an even shorter time before you found the crew. Stelle, March, Dan Heng, and Boothill were in a clinic, accompanied by a small child with bright yellow hair and a doctor who wore a large apron. You'd soon come to know that these two were Hook and Natasha, respectively.

Boothill made a show of being upset that you weren't on the Express, but you could tell that he was very happy you had decided to join them after all.

Apparently the crew had been on a wild goose chase, and to your mild disappointment they were finished with the whole affair. Stelle, March 7th, and Boothill all attempted to explain the situation to you, and Dan Heng kept sighing and correcting them every five sentences, so in the end you understood very little.

As the four of you walked out of the clinic, Hook caught up to Boothill and tugged at his pants.

"You aren't leaving, mister, are you?"

Boothill turned around, and in a manner you'd previously thought uncharacteristic, he crouched down and ruffled the young girl's hair.

"I am, sweetheart," he replied.

 "But, but, you're a member of the Moles now! You have to stay with us."

"Oh, and I'm only an *honorary* member?" Stelle asked, in mock anger. Hook giggled mischievously, then turned back to the cowboy.

"Also, I need your help with something," she added.

"Oh? What's that?" Boothill asked. Hook produced a strange trinket from one of her pockets.

"I wanna give this to my daddy, but I dunno how to wrap it up."

Boothill chuckled, ruffling her hair again.  “Your daddy sure is lucky to have a little girl like you.”

Then he did something that was so unexpected, the action of it was seared into your memory forever.

Slowly, he took off the bandana from around his neck, and laid it flat on the ground. Then, he took the trinket from Hook's hands and put it on top of the bandana, in the center. Deftly, and with a gentleness you'd seen from him very rarely, Boothill wrapped up the object with careful folding and gentle knots, then presented the object to Hook.

"There you go. And once your daddy opens it, you can wrap the bandana around your own neck, and I'll be there with ya and the Moles in spirit."

Tears sprung to Hook's eyes and she surged forward, hugging his neck and wailing loudly. Boothill chuckled, patting her back tenderly.

✦✦✦

The crisis with Jarilo VI solved, you and Boothill bade the Astral Express crew goodbye and went on your way. In the small spaceship you sat in, you gave Boothill a look.

What Hook and the Astral Express Crew didn't know was that the bandana he wore around his neck was very dear to him. A remnant of his past, a past that he had talked very little about with you, even though the two of you had gotten very close with each other.

Boothill sighed, feeling your gaze on him. "You wanna ask me about what happened with the girl, I can tell."

"Well, I mean, if you don't want to talk about it, I guess that's fine with me--" you started.

"No, no it's fine. It's somethin' I should've told ya long before. It's just painful for me is all."

You wanted to tell him that it was okay for him not to tell you, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak.

"What I never told you before, darlin’, was that I used to have a little girl of my own."

You raised a hand to your mouth. Never in your life would you have thought that the man in front of you—loud, brash and reckless—was ever a father.

"Before I was a Galaxy Ranger, before I got this metal body that I have now, I used to be just a cowboy. And one day I found myself with a daughter. Precious thing, loved her to death." He paused, taking in a deep breath, then let it out. "The IPC, they came to our planet... and they took her away from me. Took her and my whole family away from me. Razed everything I had to the ground.

 “That bandana I wore, well. It was my only reminder of her."

"Oh," you said, understanding why he was so guarded about it in the past. There was a long pause as you waited for Boothill to talk again.

 "But that girl, Hook," he started again, "she… reminded me of my daughter." Boothill took a shuddering breath. He had lost his ability to cry a long time ago, and you knew this, but sometimes he did things that told you he was weeping, invisibly. Until now you hadn't known what about.

"They would have been friends," he said softly.

"I'm sure they would have," you agreed.

You thought about the way he wrapped the gift for Hook.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" you asked.

"Do what?" he replied.

"What you did with the gift. How you folded it."

"Oh, that," he chuckled. "Some things you pick up being a dad."

There was another pause before you decided to speak again. "Well, I'll admit I was wrong about you then."

 "Wrong about what?" he asked, and you chuckled a little before answering.

"Turns out, cowboy, you do know how to wrap things up neatly."

Boothill laughed then, a soft, light sound, and you smiled.

comments are also very appreciated!

dividers by @cafekitsune

[millerskitty]

Running If You Call My Name

❥ dbf!joel / f!reader x joel miller

❥ (18+) nsfw

❥ reader insert

❥ medium burn, no outbreak au. some timelines are changed to fit the story.

dividers by @/saradika !

warnings: sneaking around, brief mentions of pregnancy and unprotected sex, angst

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

Chapter 8

The thrill of sneaking around had become addictive. Stealing kisses and tiny touches while you were around other people made your skin vibrate with desire. You and Joel would lock eyes from across the room and you’d feel a spark of need strike just below your navel. You found him to be so handsome when he had to pretend that he didn’t know what you looked like falling apart beneath him.

It was finally Halloween and you were dressed up like a cat which amused Joel very much. He offered to hand out candy to the neighborhood kids with you and Pop. You had to coach yourself, to actually mind the tension that was pulling tight like a rubber band that could snap at any moment. You told yourself that it was just like old times, that it was just Joel and Pop and you wouldn’t overstep and expose the nature of your relationship with Joel.

Sarah was going out with friends to the ‘rich and fancy’ neighborhoods in hopes of receiving full sized candy bars. She was dressed as a zombie slaying heroine from a popular show called The Walking Dead. You were glad that kid had a friend group the size of a small army to keep her distracted from the mess you and her father had gotten into. You did feel guilty for stirring up such a fuss in her life, but you pocketed that conversation for another day.

You were putting the final touches on some rice krispy treats decorated as mummies when you felt a warm hand on your waist. Your eyes widened as Joel leaned down to kiss your temple and then moved past you to pull two beers out of the fridge.

“You’re getting bold.” You scolded him.

“How can I resist my cute little kitten?” Joel asked, eyeing you up and down.

“You won’t have to if you agree to sneak in later.” You dropped the tension from your shoulders.

“I dunno ‘bout that one, love.”

“It’ll be fine.” You said, following him out onto the porch.

“We’ll see.” Joel opened the door for you and handed Pop one of the beers.

Pop was wearing a headband that was cut out to make it look like he’d been struck in the head with a butcher’s knife. You couldn’t manage to get Joel into a costume, but you resolved to make it happen next year. Next year. Your heart fluttered at the thought of him being yours for years to come.

You refilled the plastic bowl with candy, idly listening to the men talk about getting together to go fishing the next day. You’d love to get some sun while they fished, but you had to put in some overtime at work.

You looked over and watched the men bullshit, laughing and picking on each other. That nagging knot of guilt had returned, tightening in your stomach. You didn’t like keeping this secret from your father. You knew he wouldn’t rage, but you feared his disappointment.

You resolved to talk to Joel about coming forward with the truth when you had the chance to speak with him in private.

~

At around 9 PM the trick-or-treaters had finally stopped showing up for candy. You were anxiously waiting for Pop to go to bed, but he’d kept drinking with Joel. They moved their little two person party to the backyard and you no longer had an excuse to be near them. You felt like you were crowding them so you went to your room, letting them have their guy time.

After a long bath you slipped into a cozy set of pajamas and went over some work stuff on your laptop while listening to music. You were promoted to a managerial role and you had to manage inventory, reassigning it to your peers for production. You were well-liked at the office which made your job more enjoyable.

An hour later you were dozing off, too tired to turn off the lights in your room. Some time later you heard the door click shut and you tried to lift your head to see who it was. You saw the lights dim from behind your heavy eyelids and you smiled gratefully.

“Baby,” Joel whispered, then you heard him blow out the candle you had lit before settling down.

“Hmm…” You moaned.

“I’m here, can I lay down with you?”

You nodded, scooting over and opening your arms. He kicked off his boots quietly and settled into your bed. He smelled like beer and the outside air. You smiled, pulling him to face you. You opened your eyes and blinked as they adjusted to the darkness.

“I missed you.” Joel breathed.

“Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, I was wondering where you went off to.”

“Just wanted to give you some space.”

“That’s the last thing I want from you.” He said, tracing shapes onto your upper arm with his fingers.

Your heart melted, comforted by the warmth coming from his body. You had no idea that Joel Miller had such a tender spot in his heart for anyone.

You couldn’t hide your smile, not even in the dark. Joel leaned forward and captured your mouth with his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. His hand traveled from your upper arm down the side of your body, stopping at your thigh and lifting it to wrap around his waist. You suddenly had a second heartbeat pulsing at your core.

“Oh, wait.” You sat up for a moment and reached onto your bedside table, plucking the cat ears from it and putting them onto your head. You pushed Joel onto his back and climbed on top of him.

“You’re the cutest fuckin’ thing.” Joel said, his hands coming up to stroke your thighs.

“I’m glad you think so,” You smiled down at him, “I couldn’t stop thinking about wearing these for you.”

“You couldn’t, huh?” You could hear Joel’s smirk, “What did you think about?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Mhm.” Joel’s hands found your hips and started to dig his thumbs into your flesh.

“I thought about this, about you and your magic touch.”

“You like my touch, huh?” You felt Joel’s arousal growing beneath your ass.

“Isn’t it obvious? No one has ever made me feel the way you do.”

“I’m not too old to give it to you the way you deserve, darlin’” He chuckled.

“Never said you were.”

“I feel like a dirty old man sometimes.”

“Joel, you’re not even that old,” you said, pressing your hands onto his chest, “Yet.”

“I think you like that.” Joel teased.

“Isn’t that obvious?” You leaned down and captured his mouth with yours.

His hands found their way up your pajama shirt. His fingers brushed your sensitive nipples and you shuddered, pressing down against the bulge in his jeans. You rolled your hips as Joel’s tongue searched your mouth like he was hoping to find something. You moaned when he pinched your nipples, heat pooling just below your stomach.

“You’re my dirty old man.” You teased, continuing to grind against him.

Joel grunted, shifting you over and onto your back as he hovered above you. He was about to go to town on you when there was a creak down the hallway outside of your door and you both froze. You followed the sound of footsteps from Pop’s room to the living room, to the front door, the locks clicked and then the footsteps returned to the hallway, disappearing at Pop’s bedroom again. You and Joel both exhaled with relief before he plopped back down on the bed beside you. It was too close of a call for Joel.

”So, when are we gonna tell him?” You asked, leaning up and laying your head on his chest.

“And here I thought you wanted to get busted.” He whispered back to you.

”Very funny, it’s not my fault I need something only you can give me.”

”Is that all I am to you now, woman?”

”Absolutely not. I still need more guitar lessons too.” You joked, kissing his chest through his t-shirt.

“God. Can’t believe we almost happened that day.” Joel said, his voice sounding tired and gritty.

”If you would’ve just gone with the flow I’d probably be knocked up by now.” You chuckled.

Joel remained silent. Suddenly you were backtracking. You couldn’t figure out if it was what you’d said or something else that caused his sudden silence.

“Joel?”

”Hmm?”

”Are you falling asleep?”

”Not yet.”

”Why’d you stop talking to me?”

“Something you said.”

”The joke about pregnancy, right?”

”Yep, I’ve been an idiot. I’m sorry, we should have had a conversation about that stuff.”

“What about it?”

”Just dunno if I want to be a father again.”

Your heart pounded, you hadn’t meant to spring such an important topic on him so casually. You mentally smacked yourself. Now you had to face the idea of never experiencing motherhood.

“Oh, I see.” You pulled away from him.

“I didn’t ever consider it before you.” He said, pulling you back against him.

“Well, I hadn’t given the idea of having children too much thought, but I don’t like the idea of definitely never having them.”

“I just mean, we haven’t been very careful. We should start.” Joel said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Least till’ we make a decision about it together.”

You nodded, deciding to put the conversation away for another day. You two had been acting mostly in the heat of your stolen moments alone. You didn’t want to jump the gun on your new unofficial relationship with your dad’s best friend.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence Joel leaned over and checked his phone. “Sarah’s about to be home, I have to go, baby.” He whispered, sitting up.

You followed him to the door of your room, preparing a route to sneak him out of your house without alerting Pop. You went to do a sweep of the house and then returned to him, guiding him to the door where he stopped to put his boots on before giving you a kiss and heading home.

You found it funny, the fact that you were home and it didn’t quite feel like it once he was gone.

tag list: @foxin5billion & @persiar9 ♡

[1rambuna1]

Ok. So I’ve been writing fanfiction since I first watched cartoons. I know my stuff. But…

Reading fics is also fun! So, for your entertainment, and the fact that I’m on my last braincell, this is

THE RAMBUNA GUIDE TO II FANFICS!

By yours truly, Ivy / Rambuna.

Ok. So there are lots of fandoms you can read fics about. Buuuuut. This guide is made to cover ii fanfics. So I’m sorry to anyone who was expecting anything else. I might make a sequel? I dunno.

Method one: order of operations.

Ok, so I know this sounds weird, but listen. I read Wattpad fanfics. Specifically. It is very important, because this method relies on the fact that you are reading on WATTPAD.So, using that (and TIASWL because it’s very good) visuals (hopefully) will not be needed to indicate what I mean.

Operation 1: title.

The title “Teamwork is a skill we lack” is enticing, and makes you want to click. So, that’s the first key to getting good fics. Good titles. (That’s a tip for fanfic writers too!)

Operation 2: description.

Descriptions give the story to readers. They help tell what it’s about, who the characters are, and whether or not to click. (Writers, again, take note!) Once I’ve clicked on a fic, reading the description is next. I usually don’t read books without a good description. Just a simple “I can’t write descriptions” is something that turns me away. If you can’t describe your book, how can I trust that it’ll be good? For example, TIASWL’s description gives a good tell of the main character (paintbrush), the general plot, and what the feel of the story is like. This makes you want to click to find out more.

<side note. Even one line descriptions can make people want to read. For example, Case 34’s description is just “How far would you go to do it for science?”. This is just as effective. It leaves you wondering what happens, and makes you want to read.>

Operation three: tags.

Now, we’re sidelining TIASWL here, because it’s got pretty normal tags, but this is just a tangent. If you aren’t convinced, read the tags. There might be a ship you like, or an AU that sounds cool, or anything. Tags are weird. But that’s that. There you go.

[example. I have a strange thing which I like to call “rare pairs are alright, but *insert ship name here* is in this fic!” This has happened to me multiple times, and it’s really annoying, but I’ll annoy myself for the lightbrush. And a few times I’ve actually enjoyed the fic!]

That concludes our first method. Now, our next method… in the next post. Sorry, but my fingers hurt.

[drabbles-mc]

Family Dinner

Kozik x F!Reader (ft. Dad!Tig Trager)

Request by Anon: Can I request a sort of funny Kozik x female reader (who is Tig's badass daughter), where Tig has no idea that they're a thing until Gemma holds a dinner, and someone goes to offer reader a food they can't have due to a dairy intolerance, and Kozik informs them that she can't have it, and Tig pretty much interrogates him and is like, "how do you know that"? Has a big ol' moment of feeling betrayed and being mad as hell, but ultimately comes around to the idea.

Warnings: language, alcohol

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This was a fun one! I did switch up the reveal a little bit but not too much. I haven’t written a heck of a lot for Tig as a character and having him play the protective dad role in this was really enjoyable to write. Hope you enjoy! xo

Join my group-chat here: (X)

SOA Taglist: @garbinge​ @masterlistforimagines​ @mayans-sauce​ @chibsytelford​ @mijop​ @adela-topaz-caelon​ @xladymacbethx​ @i-just-read-stuff​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @unicornucopia-fuckers​​ @shadow-of-wonder​​ (If you want to be added to my taglist let me know! xo)

You were shimmying back into your jeans, trying to pretend that you didn’t notice the way that his eyes were glued to you. You looked over as you fastened the button on them, “You going to Gemma’s later?”

He looked surprised at the question, “The dinner thing?” when you nodded in response, he sat upright, running his hand through his hair, “Am I…am I even invited?”

You laughed, nodding, “It’s a club thing. Of course you’re invited.”

“Yea but no one ever—”

“Does Gemma seem like the kind of woman who is gonna make a damn phone tree and call everyone she wants there?” you chuckled and shook your head, “Just come. It’s always a good time. Good food, too.”

You could see it on his face that he was trying to weigh out the pros and cons of it. Since he transferred into Samcro, things had gone smoothly for him for the most part. Pretty much everyone in the club was glad to have him back around again. However, the one person that wasn’t thrilled about his return, was the person that you knew he was worrying the most about.

“It’s not like you two are going to be alone in a room together,” you told him as you pulled your shirt down over your head, “We’re all gonna be there.”

“You think he won’t jump the table and try to beat the shit out of me in front of everyone?”

You laughed, knowing that that is exactly the kind of thing your father would do, “Just don’t say anything to piss him off.”

“Want me to be silent for the whole dinner, then?”

You smiled, shaking your head, “Give him a little credit, Koz. He’s better than he was when you first turned back up.”

“Pretty low fuckin’ bar.”

You walked back over to his bed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, “Progress is progress,” you stroked your thumb along his cheek, “I’ll see you tonight?”

He sighed, giving in only because it was you, “Yea,” he rested his hand over yours, “I’ll be there.”

You smiled, pressing your forehead against his, “Thank you.”

You leaned in to give him one last quick peck on the lips before leaving, but he grabbed you and pulled you close, not letting you pull away. You laughed as you leaned into the kiss, bracing yourself on his shoulders.

When he finally let you go, he was smiling up at you, “Since I won’t be able to do that later.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you walked towards his bedroom door, “You could, but it’d be the last time you ever did.”

You left Kozik’s place, making your way back to the home that you were currently sharing with your father. You’d been looking for a place of your own, but nothing seemed to be quite the right fit. At this point, you figured you would probably just end up moving in with Kozik before too much longer. There were a few conversations that needed to happen before that, though, and you weren’t sure if you were quite ready to have them yet.

“Dad, you home?” you’d seen his bike in the driveway but the house was eerily quiet when you walked in.

“Yea,” he walked out of the bathroom, half of his face still splattered with shaving cream, “Everything okay?”

You laughed as you took in the way he looked, giving him a nod, “Yea, all good. Was just quiet in here. But now I see that you were very…focused.”

“It’s like sculpting The David, alright? Takes a lot of concentration.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, “Right. Something like that. Anyway, we still going to Gemma’s thing later?”

“Yea. I’m not getting in trouble for missing it.”

You laughed, “Figures.”

Surprisingly, Tig let you drive the both of you to Gemma’s place. Usually when you offered to drive it was met with a myriad of comments about how your driving would get the both of you killed. For some reason, though, he was feeling extra agreeable. You didn’t want to ruin it so you swiped the keys immediately and went out to the car.

When you rolled into the driveway, there were already a decent number of bikes parked out front. Your heart sped up a little bit when you spotted Kozik’s in the midst of them. You weren’t the only one who noticed, though. You heard Tig muttering something under his breath about how you can’t believe that someone invited him.

“He’s part of the club too, you know, Dad,” you said, a hint of defensiveness in your voice.

“Doesn’t mean that I gotta like him,” he responded as he stepped out of the car.

You sighed, getting out and shutting the door behind you, “Make everyone’s lives a whole lot easier if you did.”

He looked at you, eyes narrowed slightly, “Since when do you care?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off, “The less drama at family dinners, the better.”

It must’ve been a good enough excuse, because he let the topic drop. The two of you walked inside, welcomed by the sounds of a few different conversations happening throughout the house, and the smell of whatever Gemma was cooking wafting over from the kitchen. It really did feel like coming home.

You made your way around, saying hello and giving everyone a hug in greeting. You tried not to let Kozik’s embrace linger, but you had to admit that it was hard to pull away. It was getting harder and harder to keep things on the down-low with you two. You were needy and Kozik wasn’t someone that you would ever describe as particularly discreet.

“You need help with anything, Gemma?” you were scanning over everything that she had going on top of the stove and in the oven.

She took a deep breath, hands on her hips as she looked around the kitchen, “I don’t think so, sweetheart. Think we’ve got it all under control in here,” she nodded towards the cupboards, “Maybe get some plates out for me?”

You nodded, “Sure thing.”

While you were bringing the plates to the table, you could hear the murmur of conversations out in the living room. There was laughter and the clattering of beer bottles as the guys got into whatever shenanigans they had time for before the food was done. It’d been a while since everyone got together at Gemma’s, and you had to admit that it was needed.

You looked back into the kitchen and saw Kozik staring at you. You smiled, shaking your head slightly at him as you tried not to draw too much attention to it. The last thing you wanted to do was air out all of your business in the middle of Gemma’s house.

He was leaning back against the counter, watching as you gathered up silverware for the table as well. He opened his mouth to make a flirty remark, but immediately backpedaled when Tig walked into the room. He tore his eyes off of you, trying to look anywhere else.

When you came back from the table the second time, you saw that Gemma had stepped out of the kitchen. With a devious smile on your face, you grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and opened one of the pots on the stove. Gemma ran a tight ship, and that meant no sneaking any food before dinner. But what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

You assumed no one was watching you, Tig had his head in the fridge looking for a fresh beer bottle. You scooped a spoonful of whatever was filling the kitchen with a mouth-watering aroma. You never thought to ask Gemma what anything was—it was always good.

You blew on it, and just as you were about to take a bite Kozik spoke up, resting his hand on your arm to signal you to stop, “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

You chuckled, “If you don’t snitch, Gemma won’t even know.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “It’s not that. Although…that’s another really good reason to not sneak it.”

“Why can’t I have it? Saving more for yourself?” you smiled.

His grin was contagious, “That’s a bonus, but no,” he gently took the spoon from your hands, “It’s got diary in it. It’ll make you sick.”

You groaned, hating that you were deprived of good things, “Fuck. Fine. Thanks for saving my stomach I guess.”

He couldn’t help but to laugh, “You’re welcome I guess.”

The two of you were laughing but you both stopped short when you saw the way that Tig was glaring at you, beer bottle gripped tight in his hand. His glance shifted from you over to Kozik, eyes boring into the man next to you.

“How’d you know that?”

He tried to be nonchalant about it, not wanting to pour fuel on the fire that was already set between the two of them, “Know what?”

Tig nodded towards the pot on the stove, “That that shit makes her sick.”

He’d never been good at coming up with lies on the spot, “She just, uh, I dunno. Must’ve mentioned it at some point.”

It wasn’t a convincing statement. And Tig had noticed how close the two of you stood, the way that you looked at each other. He wasn’t that oblivious. He wasn’t sure who he was more frustrated with in the moment. It was easier to be mad at Kozik, because he was always mad at him. But he couldn’t believe that you wouldn’t tell him something like this. Despite his own personal feelings, he was still your father and wanted to know what was going on with you.

Tig stepped forward, getting dangerously close to Kozik’s face, “You sleepin’ with my daughter?”

You huffed, trying to insert yourself between the two of them, “Dad, come on. We’re not doing this here.”

His eyes diverted back to you, “You didn’t think you should mention this to me at some point? How long has this shit been going on?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep things as level as possible, “I wanted to mention it, but for some reason I thought that it might not go over well.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, fingertips rapping against the neck of his beer bottle. He knew that you had a point—he didn’t exactly make himself the easiest person to talk to when it came to you dating in general, let alone dating Kozik. But still.

“Maybe that’s true,” he finally conceded.

You laughed, shaking your head. Your stubbornness was a genetic trait, “Yea. Maybe.”

His eyes searched your face for any hint of hesitation or discomfort, “He good to you?”

You nodded, not even needing a moment to think about the answer, “Of course.”

Tig gave you a slight nod before gently moving you to the side, once more getting too close for comfort to Kozik’s face, “You hurt her, it’ll be the last thing you ever fucking do. Got it?”

He nodded, wanting to force words out but not quite sure what to say, “Got it.”

“Good,” he stepped away, walking back towards the living room where the rest of the club was sitting.

You wanted to stay and enjoy the relief of not having to hide anymore, but you couldn’t. You pressed a quick kiss to Kozik’s lips before going to catch up with your dad, pulling him aside, “Hey. Thank you for, you know, not murdering him in the middle of Gemma’s kitchen.”

“The night isn’t over. There’s still time for that.”

You laughed, “Stop. He’s a good guy, Dad. I know you don’t wanna see it but—”

He cut you off, “You don’t gotta explain yourself to me. But if he fucks up I swear to god—”

“You’ll be the first to know. Promise,” you held your pinky out.

He locked his finger with yours, a smile on his face, “Good.”

You smiled, “I love you.”

He pulled you in for a hug, “I love you too.”

[albertasunrise]

Mistakes - Chapter 2

Part 1

Summary: You’d known it was a bad idea to get involved with Javier Peña. You were just another notch on his bedpost but you were a notch he kept revisiting. You know you should have stopped it, declined his offers to rock your world but you couldn’t and now you had to deal with the consequences. Consequences that you knew he would refuse to accept.

Warnings: References to sex, Unplanned Pregnancy, Blood and Injury, Descriptions of Childbirth

Pairings: Javier Peña x Reader

~

You were in the final month of your pregnancy. Things with Javier had been going well. You’d moved in. Decorated the room that was to be the nursery and the two of you had even started to date exclusively. Things were looking up. Connie and Steve had adopted a little girl, Olivia and you were delighted to have the chance to practice a little before your own came along, maternal instincts in full flow.

‘How's that pump working for you?’ Connie asked as she sipped her wine, watching as you finished fastening Olivia’s baby grow.

‘Wonderful thank you.’ You replied as you picked her up and rested her on your hip, grinning as she planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek ‘I don’t remember reading in any of the books you gave me that I would start lactating before she even came.’ You grumbled ‘Javi’s devastated that they’re now too sensitive for him to touch.’

‘Are you two still… you know?’

‘God I am like a sex fiend.’ You chuckled before nuzzling Olivia’s cheek ‘I thought that I wouldn't be in the mood at this point but I dunno, my hormones are just in overdrive and I want him all the time.’

‘And knowing Javi, he’s happy to provide.’

‘You cannot tell him I told you this.’ You said, your tone suddenly becoming serious.

‘What?’

‘He’s got a serious pregnancy kink.’

‘No… really?’ Connie asked as she covered her dropped jaw with her hand.

‘God yeah.’ You replied ‘The filth that comes out of his mouth about how “sexy I am, round with his baby”. He gets hornier and hornier the bigger I get.'

‘That's just…’

‘Unbelievable?’

‘I just can’t believe it.’

‘Well, it's true.’ You giggled ‘But you’re sworn to secrecy.’ You warned, pointing a single finger in her direction.

‘My lips are sealed.’ She replied, mimicking pulling a zip with her thumb and pointer finger ‘How are things? Things good?’

‘Yeah actually.’ You confirmed as you walked towards Connie’s couch and sat yourself down, positioning Olivia on your lap ‘He’s been really great. Literally runs whenever I need him. He was great when I was forced to take Maternity leave early.’

‘Oh, how are you feeling?’ Connie inquired, rubbing your arm.

‘I have good and bad days. Who knew that morning sickness was something that could come back?’ You paused, shrugging your shoulders. ‘I thought once I stopped suffering from it that that was it.’

‘Pregnancy affects everyone differently.’ Said Connie sweetly ‘But when she arrives it’ll all be worth it.’

‘Definitely.’ You replied, beaming at her as you bounced Olivia on your knee.

~

You were worried when Javier didn’t come home that night. He didn’t call. Not even Steve knew where he was. You lay there, cradling your bump, wondering if Javi was okay. If he was dead in a ditch somewhere. You didn’t sleep. You lay there staring at the ceiling until finally, in the early hours of the morning, Javier finally crawled into bed.

‘Where were you?’ You growled, taking him by surprise.

‘Did I wake you?’ He asked as he kissed you softly but you didn't return it.

‘No.’ You spat, eyes not leaving the spot they’d fixed to on the ceiling ‘Where were you?’

‘I was with Carillo.’ He replied, his tone a little nervous ‘We were staking out a potential bolt hole.’ He paused ‘Ran later than I was expecting.’

‘You could have called Javier.’ You growled, finally turning your head to look at him.

‘I left my phone in the office.’ He replied gingerly and you scoffed at that ‘Baby I’m sorry.’

‘What if I’d gone into labour Javi?’ You asked ‘What then?’

‘You’re not due for another few weeks baby.’

‘That's not the point.’ You snapped ‘She could literally come at any time. I can’t do this alone Javi, you promised me I wouldn’t have to.’

‘I know I’m sorry.’ he said, scrubbing his hand over his face ‘I promise I will keep my phone on me at all times. I have a pager now too so you can contact me on that if it's about the baby coming, send 911.’

~

Things only got worse over the next week. He got home later and later, consistently stinking of the cigarettes he smoked and the whiskey he drank. Steve was always with him so you knew that he was truly in the office late but as your due date loomed closer and closer, you started to fear that you were going to end up doing this alone.

‘Baby come on don’t do this.’ He begged as you grabbed your coat and opened the door ‘I’m sorry I’ve been getting home later but we’re really close, I can feel it.’

‘I’m really close Javi.’ You growled, turning on your heels to face him ‘I have literally 2 weeLet'sntil I’m due. Two weeks until our daughter arrives.’ You paused as tears streamed down your cheeks ‘You promised me that you’d put us first. You swore to me and I believed you, let me fall for you.’

‘Hermosa please.’

‘I need some air Javi.’ You snapped, storming out the door and down the stairs of your building.

‘You can’t be walking around at night eight, almost nine, months pregnant.’

‘Uh, I can.’ You growled, not even turning your head to look at him as you continued to walk.

‘Please cariño. Lets just go home and talk about this.’

‘Nothing to talk about Javi.’ You growled, continuing to stomp on.

‘Hermosa please.’ He yelled and you stopped in your tracks, shoulders heaving ‘I’m sorry. Sorry that I haven’t been there but works been so hectic and I-.’ You start to turn, mouth opening as you started to speak.

‘Javi I-‘ You stop dead, eyes growing wide.

‘What?’

The gunshot echos through the evening air. You stare at him and he stares back at you, his eyes then drifting down to see his off white button-up gradually turning red.

‘JAVI.’ You scream as you sprint to his side, remarking the gunman sprinting away ‘Javi, baby, stay with me.’ You pleaded as you pull off your coat and press it down onto his stomach.

‘FUCK!.’ He yells, eyes shooting open as your action tore him away from the darkness that had tugged at his consciousness ‘Cariño… you need to get out of here.’

‘I’m not leaving you.’ You sobbed, hands shaking as you looked around and you realised that you’d not made it far from your apartment building.

You started to scream, as loudly as you can, for someone to help you. You scream until your voice goes hoarse and just when you start to lose hope that someone will help you notice a familiar blonde figure sprinting towards you.

‘SHIT!’ He shouted as he came to a stop at your side ‘What the fuck happened?’

‘He’s been shot.’ You sobbed.

He made some calls on his phone before he finally dropped to your side, taking over placing pressure on Javier’s wound as you then tried your best to comfort him. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin and you noticed he’d started to shiver, eyes hooded and heavy as he tried to keep himself awake.

‘Steve he’s going into shock.’ You said, voice shaking as your stroked some of the sweat-slick hair away from his brow ‘Help’s coming baby.’

You hold his hand and sob, cursing yourself for leaving the house.

Why had you left the house?

The EMTs arrive a short while after, pulling you and Steve away so they could work on Javi whilst throwing medical jargon in Spanish back and forth that you and Steve managed to catch only the odd word here and there. You are both ushered into the Ambulance where you resumed holding his hand whilst Steve stared at him with wide eyes, knee bouncing nervously as he watched the stuttered rise and fall of his partner's chest. No words were exchanged, he didn’t even look at you he just continued to watch his partner as the ambulance sped through the now emptied streets of Bogota.

The ambulance came to an abrupt stop and the doors swung open to reveal a flurry of Medical staff awaiting your arrival. Javier’s gurney was pulled from the vehicle and wheeled into the hospital where he was then taken to a large room filled with a vast array of different medical equipment. Steve had flashed his badge and the doctors and nurses just let the two of you follow but you were ushered into the corner and forced to watch as they attempted to stabilise him. Alarms start to blare and your stomach dropped, the buzz of activity around the man you loved getting more hectic as a nurse finished up inserting a tube in his throat whilst another attached a bag to the end of it, proceeding to pump air into his dormant lungs as the doctor prepped a machine you most certainly recognised.

‘Javi.’ You sobbed as your knees buckled but Steve caught you before you fell to the floor ‘Javi please.’

SHOCK.

You watch his body arch and your blood goes cold, all colour draining from your face.

SHOCK.

His body arches from the bed again and your eyes roll back, darkness consuming you as you collapse into Steve’s arms.

~

You knew what was happening when it started and you'd sobbed as the contractions got closer and closer together but Connie held your hand as she desperately tried to soothe you. When the time came you were moved to a different room. A room you didn't want to be in. Not yet.

‘I can’t have her now Con.’ You wailed ‘Not without him.’

‘Sweetie she’s coming.’ She said gently, stroking some sweat-slick hair from your brow ‘You need to push Hunny. Please push.’

The doctor between your legs desperately tried to urge you to push along with Connie but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to have this baby without him. He should be there with you, holding your hand as you pushed your baby girl into the world like he'd said but instead you were here and he was undergoing life-saving surgery.

You let out a guttural scream as you were finally forced to push, tears streaming down your cheeks as you desperately tried and deliver your daughter.

‘That's it. You’re doing great.’ Connie said, resting her forehead against yours as you let out another scream as you pushed again ‘One more hun, one more and she’ll be here.’

One more you gave.

You pushed like your life depended on it and you were rewarded with the sound of your daughters cries. It was the most wonderful sound you’d ever heard and for a moment you let yourself revel in it, sobbing as you were handed your daughter. She was small but healthy and Connie assured you that she’d be fine despite being a few weeks early. You studied her carefully and all you could see was him. She already had his hair, surprisingly long and curly and her skin was sun-kissed.

‘She’s beautiful.’ Connie said, placing a friendly kiss on your temple before gazing back down at her.

‘She looks just like him.’ You choked, unable to hold your sorrow back any longer ‘He should be here.’

~

You sat watching him as you cradled your infant in your arms. You’d been discharged the following day but had refused to leave, wanting to remain at Javi’s side until he woke up. He was still in surgery when you’d finished delivering your daughter, the bullet having torn a hole right through him and leaving mayhem in his wake. He was still hooked up to the ventilator, the machine breathing for him so that his body could focus its efforts on healing. You’d been told by the doctors that he was stable and that his chances were favourable but that hadn’t given you the hope that you needed. He wasn’t out of the woods yet.

‘Hun?’ Came a soft voice, averting your attention away from your lover to the doorway where Connie stood with an older man ‘This is Chucho.’ She clarified as she gingerly stepped inside with him right behind her ‘He’s-.’

‘Javier’s father.’ You interrupted, giving him a sad smile before glancing down at your still sleeping baby ‘He’s told me a lot about you, sir.’

‘Please, no need to be so formal.’ He replied, waving his hand at you ‘You and I are tied by blood now. Call me Chucho or even pops if you'd like.’

His kindness brought a genuine smile to your face and you nodded at him before pushing yourself to your feet, wincing from the soreness you still suffered.

‘Is this her?’ He asked as you stepped towards him, beaming at the tiny creature in your arms.

‘Yeah.’ You replied ‘This is her.’

‘Javi wouldn’t stop gushing about how excited he was on the phone.’ He started and the sad smile returned to your face ‘I know he was an idiot in the beginning but he…’ He drifted off as his eyes locked onto his son laying in the bed behind you ‘Oh Javier.’ He sobbed as he walked past you and to his side, taking his hand.

‘I’ll give you a few minutes alone with him.’ You said as you turned to leave and Chucho looked up at you.

‘Stay Mija.’ He said softly, holding out his hand to you ‘Please.’

You sat for some time with few words being passed between you. The doctors came by and after explaining who Chucho was, they'd updated him and you on the agent's condition. He’d remained relatively stony about the whole situation, clearly a man that did not like to put his emotions out there for the whole world to see.

‘I need to feed her.’ You said upon noticing that the baby was getting restless in her Moses basket, something that Steve and Connie had kindly bought you.

‘That’s fine Mija.’ He said sweetly ‘Nothing I haven’t seen before but I can leave if you’d rather be alone?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ You replied, smiling at him as you scooped up the baby up and carried her back to your chair, nodding in thanks when Chucho threw a blanket over your shoulders to give you a little privacy as she started to suckle at your breast.

‘She’s strong despite being early.’ He said as he watched her little legs kick.

‘Takes after her dad.’ You reply, watching as she ate ‘God this feels so strange.’ You chuckled and Chucho reciprocated.

‘My wife said the same thing when feeding Javi.’ He stated, glancing at his son ‘She struggled at first with him. He didn’t seem to want to latch but once he did, well there was no stopping him.’

You laughed at that, imagining a tiny little Javier turning his nose up at breasts. He certainly didn’t now.

‘He’ll pull through Mija.’ Said Chucho, pulling you from your reverie ‘You are going to be a family. He just needs to rest for a while.’

‘I know.’ You replied, eyes settling on Javi as your daughter continued to feed ‘I know.’

Over the next week, you got to know Chucho well. He cooed over your daughter, taking any opportunity he could to cuddle her and who were you to deny him that? He was her grandfather after all. Javier was then taken off the ventilator and you’d all held your breath, saying a silent prayer as you willed him to take a breath on his own and he had. Now his breathing was assisted with just a nasal cannula, his chest movements all his own but he still hadn’t woken up. The doctors told you both to talk to him, that people in a coma can often hear you and so as the days continued to go by, that's what you did along with Chucho.

‘So someone's been a particularly greedy girl today.’ You said as you perched on the edge of the bed ‘She’s definitely got an appetite.’ You continued ‘I wonder who she got that from.’ You asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Nothing.

‘Chucho’s gone to grab some sleep and shower. I said that he was welcome to use my apartment for as long as he needed.’ You paused, eyes glancing up at him ‘He loves her. Can’t get enough of her.’ You continued as you looked down at the sleeping infant in your arms ‘Oh Javi you need to wake up and meet her. She’s tiny but so perfect. Plus we need to give her a name. We never settled on one.’

Still nothing.

‘She has your hair and the most beautiful gold skin, I reckon it’ll get darker too as she gets a little older. Too early to tell whose eyes she has but I think she’ll probably have yours. She’s a little mini-me of you.’

He remains silent.

‘Come on Javi it's been two weeks.’ You grumbled ‘How much more sleep do you need?’ You looked at him expectantly ‘Javi I know you’re tired. I know you’re tired of fighting but I need you to fight for us.’

A groan made you jump and your eyes grew wide as Javier started to fidget, eyes scrunching as more groans escaped his lips.

‘Javi?’’ You asked, cradling the baby with one arm and taking his hand with your free one ‘Baby you with me?’

‘Where am I?’ He rasped, eyes cracking open and scanning his surroundings before coming to settle on you ‘What are you doing here?’

‘You were shot Javi.’ You stated as you gave his hand a squeeze ‘You’ve been in a coma for nearly three weeks.’

You saw the cogs in his mind whirring as he tried to process what you’re telling him but there was also something else in his eyes that scared you. Something that you didn’t want to be the case.

‘Javi I had the baby.’ You stated, lifting her slightly so he could see her ‘Meet your daughter.’

‘I don’t have a daughter!’ He growled, his tone suddenly angry ‘I don’t know who you are.’ He snapped, heart rate increasing ‘Who are you?’

‘Javi? It’s me, baby.’ You sobbed, telling him your name ‘We’ve been together for almost a year. You accidentally got me pregnant but after being a complete douche about it at the beginning you realised you wanted her. Our daughter. You wanted us.’

‘I don’t know you.’ He yells and you flinched, tears streaming down your cheeks as the baby started to wail.

‘Javi please.’ You sobbed but you were soon pulled out of the room so that the nurses and doctors that had entered could check him over.

You rocked the baby in your arms in an attempt to stop her cries, your own tears staining her pink onesies. The doctor emerged a little while later, steering you towards a seat and sitting beside you.

‘He appear to be suffering from memory loss.’ He started in broken English ‘He gone through a lot. It may be from the arresting that it caused some memory loss. It should return with time but need to be gentle with him.’

‘He doesn’t remember me.’ You sobbed ‘He doesn’t remember that we were having a baby together.’

‘That will return with time.’ He replied ‘Patience.’

With that, he left and you gingerly stepped back onto the room, a nurse still inside checking over his IV as he stared at the Moses basket in the corner. You weren’t sure what to do. Should you stay if he doesn’t remember you? Or should you leave and get Chucho to stay with him?

‘Doc tells me that you’ve been here the whole time.’ He says, not taking his eyes off of the basket ‘Said that you and the baby have slept here every night. That my father has been here.’

‘Yes.’

‘Who are you?’ He growled ‘And how have you managed to fool people into thinking that's my kid?’

‘Because she is Javi!‘ You snapped ‘Look at her!’ You say, laying her in his arms ‘Look at her and tell me she isn’t yours.’

Look at her he does and despite having no recollection of you he had felt drawn to you but now as she lay in his arm, he felt especially drawn to her. He looked at her and she looked at him, tiny orbs staring up at him and he smiled.

‘Why don’t I remember?’

‘What is the last thing you remember?’ You asked, taking a seat on the chair beside his bed.

‘Um... I just got a new partner. Steve.’ He stated, glancing at you before returning his gaze to the baby in his arms.

‘Javi that was a year ago.’ You stated ‘You and I met a month or so after he arrived. Practically collided with each other in the hall. I’m a secretary at the embassy. We went out one night and I ended up falling into your bed then it happened again... continuously.’

‘Then she happened?’ He asked, motioning to your daughter.

‘Then she happened.’ You replied, a small smile gracing your lips ‘She’s becoming a right grandpa’s girl you know?’ You chuckled ‘Got him wrapped around her teeny finger’

‘Well we can’t have that can we?’ He said as he looked down at her ‘If I’m your daddy then I need to be the favourite.’ He said to her with a softness that you'd never seen before.

‘Oh, I’m sure you will be.’ You piped up, grinning at him as he let his eyes settle on you again.

‘I’m sorry.’ He said suddenly and you gave him a bemused look.

‘What for?’

‘For not remembering you.’

~

Javier was discharged a few days later but his memories were yet to return. He felt drawn to the baby though and so he accepted her readily but you... You he still a little wary of. He felt something for you. A longing that he couldn't explain and it scared him. It was like his body remembered who you were to him, what you were to him but his mind was keeping that a secret from him. Upon entering his apartment he didn’t recognise the place he’d come to call home. There were photos of the two of you on the wall, ultrasounds images stuck to the fridge and toys everywhere. The spare room had been decorated and adorned with furniture for the baby.

‘When did you do all this?’ He asked, holding his daughter close to his chest.

‘We did this together a few months ago after agreeing your apartment was the better one to live in.’ You stated, clearing a few items ‘My apartments across the hall. Your dad's been staying there. I’ll go fetch him. Let him know you're home.’

Javi simply nodded, watching as you left before turning his attention back to his daughter who was starting to squirm against his shoulder. He supported her head as she leant herself back a little to look at him, her mouth open in a tiny ‘o’ that made him grin at her.

‘You hungry Hermosa?’ He asked as her eyes grew comically wide ‘Well mummy will be back in a moment.’ He paused, his heart sinking as he looked around at the home that he’d clearly shared with you for months but had no recollection of your time together.

‘Hello, son.’ Came a similar voice and Javier glanced up to see his father stood next to you, a smile crossing his face as he took in his son holding his daughter.

‘Pops.’ He replied, nodding his head slightly.

~

Chapter 3

[patchwork-panda]

“I won’t do anything. Probably.” (BSD OdaSaku x Reader) Part 2/3

Title: “I won’t do anything. Probably”

Genre: Comedy/Romance/soft angst/smut

Rating: Part 2 is semi-nsfw. Part 3 is 18+ (NC-17 aka nsfw)

Reader-insert is written as afab (gender non specified, so can be femme or nonbinary but IS shorter than OdaSaku) and 20+

CW: afab language, kissing

Plot: You are a member of the Port Mafia who has been sent on a “cleanup” job with Oda Sakunosuke, who you have a crush on but won’t admit it. You don’t finish the job until very late at night, at which point, you’re forced to check into a hotel. But there’s just one problem:

There’s only one room left.

And only one bed.

AO3 link for full fic: HERE

@calamityismyspecialty​ you asked to be tagged specifically, so here ya go! :3

“You really shouldn’t have cut him off like that, you know,” Oda says as you stalk down the hall. “It was pretty rude of you.”

“Rude?”

You snort.

“If I cared about being polite, do you think I would’ve joined the Port Mafia of all places?”

Oda shrugs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a beat of silence. Oda speaks again.

“Did you? Actually choose to join, that is?”

Instead of answering, you walk faster.

The distance between you grows.

“When do you think the rain will stop?” you ask, after a pause.

You don’t look back at him as you speak, but you hear a soft rustling of fabric, as if Oda is calmly shrugging behind you from down the hallway.

“I dunno,” he replies, confirming your guess.

His tone is polite. Even. He doesn’t seem at all offended that you completely ignored his question.

“Early morning, perhaps?”

You sigh.

“In other words, we’re gonna have to spend the rest of the night here?”

“Not necessarily,” Oda hums. “You did suggest camping out under a bridge earlier--”

“There’s no way we’re doing that and you know it.”

Oda falls quiet. You wonder if he’s shrugging again.

“Okay.”

“Look,” you say slowly, as patiently as you can. “It’s late, we’re tired and it’s raining. We’re clearly going to be stuck here for the night, so let’s just not make it any weirder than it already is.”

You can see your destination coming up ahead: a nondescript wooden door at the very end of the hall, the numbers on the placard beside it dark and clear.

“It’s like you said earlier,” you declare, taking the keycard out of your pocket as you approach. “We’re just a couple of colleagues who got stranded in an unfamiliar town while out on a business trip.”

You take the keycard and hold it up to the door.

“And we’re just going to be sleeping. Just sleeping.”

There’s a soft beep. The light beside the door turns green. 

“In any case.”

You grab the doorknob and turn it.

“You just stay in your bed, on your side of the room,” you say, fumbling along the wall for a light switch.

You find it just as Oda squeezes into the narrow entryway with you.

“And I’m sure we won’t have a--”

The lights click on and your voice falls to a hush.

“Problem.”

Oda steps into the main room with you just as you realize what the receptionist was trying to tell you.

This is a single.

And there’s only one bed.

Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out.

Oda was right. Maybe you shouldn’t have cut off the receptionist...

Without another word, Oda brushes past you. He heads for the couch in the corner.

“No good,” he says, lifting up some of its weathered fabric cushions. “It’s not a pullout.”

He drops the cushion back onto the couch and stuffs it into place.

“And it’s too short for me to sleep on.”

And to demonstrate, he sits down on it, his back against one armrest. His long legs take up most of the couch’s short length.

Letting the keycard drop onto the nearest nightstand, you walk towards him.

“Let me try,” you insist, gesturing for Oda to get up.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says, as you sit down on the couch and try to lay horizontally on it. “You’re gonna fall out.”

“No, I won’t,” you insist, stubbornly tucking your legs up towards your chest.

But once again, Oda proves right.

The minute you wrap your arms around your knees, the springs under the couch squeal and before you know what’s happening, you roll out onto your face.

You think you hear Oda suppress a laugh as you pick yourself up off the floor and as you look up at him and scowl, he quickly looks away.

Your scowl deepens.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you mumble, your cheeks red.

The tap squeaks when you turn it.

The water comes out a little colder than you expect it to and you wince as some of it leaks out of the showerhead above you and onto your head.

It wakes you up a little and the realization that this is real--that you’re really, really stuck sharing a hotel room with Oda Sakunosuke hits home.

As the water heats up at last, you peel off the rest of your dirty, grimy clothes and get in.

You glance at the door.

Oda Sakunosuke is just outside that door.

While you’re in here. Naked.

He’s probably sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone while he waits for you to finish up.

And then it’ll be his turn...

Suddenly, your cheeks burn in a way that has nothing to do with the heat of the shower.

You grab the miniature bottle of shampoo sitting in the alcove and dump it onto your head, scrubbing at the tangled locks of hair as if you can scrub the image out of your brain but you can’t.

For some reason, you can’t get the image of Oda Sakunosuke taking off his clothes, dumping them on the floor in a pile where yours were now and walking into the shower, where the hot water would run down his skin and soak into his hair...

He’d be using the same shampoo and bar of soap you’re using now.

And you know for a fact that there’s not enough steam to cover up what needs to be covered...

Freaking out, you throw the soap at the cubbyhole in the wall but it bounces and hits you in the face.

Groaning with pain, you crouch down in the shower, clutching your forehead as the not-as-hot water slowly runs down your head and body.

“You okay?” Oda’s voice calls out from the other room.

“Fine!” you shout back, embarrassed.

You somehow manage to finish the rest of your shower in peace.

“All set?”

Oda calls out to you without looking up from his phone.

Clutching your bathrobe (there were two in the bathroom) tighter about your body, your hair still slightly wet, you nod.

You’re not quite sure whether you’re relieved or offended that he’s not looking at you, but you quickly decide on “relieved.” 

Oda’s yellow jacket lays neatly folded on the couch, resting a few feet above his shoes and socks. And while he hasn’t taken off his black striped shirt, he’s undone the first several buttons, revealing a narrow stripe of skin right down the middle. His sleeves are rolled up halfway to his elbows and you notice that every time he types something into his phone, you can see his forearm muscles tense.

Your mouth suddenly feels dryer than before.

Something about seeing Oda like this, lounging so casually on the covers of a queen sized bed, just browsing his phone with his shirt half unbuttoned... it makes your heart race.

Noticing your silence at last, Oda looks up.

His deep blue eyes seem to pierce into yours and without knowing why, you tense.

“My turn?” he asks, to which you only nod.

He nods back.

“Thanks.”

And with that, you’ve traded places.

You realize only when the bathroom door is about to close that you’ve left your clothes inside--including your bra and underwear.

“Oda-senpai--!” you call out just as the click of a lock rings out throughout the room.

Too late.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you trudge towards the couch, grabbing your phone on the way there. It’s not very comfortable to sit on and the cushions sag under your weight but you don’t want to sit on the bed. The bed that Oda was laying on.

The bed you might be sharing in just a few, short minutes...

You scroll through your apps, trying to find something that might distract you from the sound of running water next door and the mental image of Oda stripping in there when you realize you can hear a deep voice humming.

Oda is humming in the shower.

He sounds pretty good...

Your face growing warm, you turn away from the bathroom wall and continue scrolling through your phone. You find a game you haven’t touched in a while and start playing...

But you can still hear Oda humming and occasionally singing quietly from the next room over the sounds of your game.

All too soon, the water stops running.

Oda’s finished showering.

Your heart beats faster as you hear footsteps approaching the door. You’re still wearing nothing but your bathrobe...

For one heart-stopping moment, you wonder if he’s going to come out shirtless, in just a towel. Just like the hot guys usually do in those TV dramas.

But before you can look away, the door clicks open and Oda steps out.

“That was a nice shower,” he comments casually as he strolls through the room, toweling off his wet rust-colored hair.

You’re so busy staring at the way those dampened dark-red locks frame his cheekbones and face that it takes you a moment to realize it.

Oda is wearing the second bathrobe from the closet and nothing else.

Now you match.

Like a honeymooning couple.

“Hm?”

He blinks at you.

“Why are you sitting on the couch all bunched up like that? Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“N-no.”

Oda just stares quietly at you and your hand flies back to the front of your bathrobe. It wasn’t falling open but you suddenly feel the need to hold it closed.

Just in case.

Oda shrugs and goes to sit on the bed. The mattress and covers sink a little under his weight.

“Ready to sleep?”

Shakily, you nod.

“Y-yeah.”

But you don’t move any closer.

“By the way,” Oda says, reaching for his cell phone. “While you were in there earlier, I managed to look it up.”

He turns it towards you so that you can see the screen.

“First train’s at seven in the morning so if we want to catch that, we should get some rest soon.”

He lowers the phone and looks at you over it.

“Unless…”

As he moves, his bathrobe opens up down the middle a little more.

You can see the line of his chest muscles...

“You’d like to sleep in a little more?”

Oda regards you, his deep blue eyes meeting yours from across the room.

You flush.

“What are you saying...?”

“I’m saying,” Oday says calmly, his expression as stoic as ever, “if you’re not a morning person, we can sleep in a little longer.”

He flips through the phone again.

“There’s trains coming at eight and nine too.”

He looks up at you again.

“What did you think I was implying?”

“N-nothing! The seven o’clock one is fine!”

“Okay. In that case...”

Calm as can be, Oda sets his cell phone aside and reaches for the alarm clock, programming it.

“Let’s hurry and go to sleep.”

And before you can say anything, he lifts up the covers and slides in (his bathrobe almost falling open in the process).

He looks to you expectantly.

“You coming in?”

It’s cold in your corner of the room and the couch springs are hard and uncomfortable beneath the thinned, battered cushion but you don’t move a muscle.

You squeeze the front of your robes closed.

“I’m fine here.”

“You sure?” Oda asks.

The corners of his lips turn downwards.

Or you think they do.

He’s so stoic, it’s really hard to tell.

“That looks uncomfortable.”

“It’s really not,” you lie, as the couch springs dig into your backside. “I’ve had worse.”

Oda looks unconvinced.

“Have you now?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer, but instead of words, a huge yawn comes out.

Oda’s gaze softens.

“Hey...”

He sits up a little, propping his head up on one hand as he regards you.

“You’re really tired, aren’t you?” he asks gently.

You stifle your yawn immediately as he slowly sits up, the covers slipping off of his body as he moves.

“It’s warm here, you know. The pillows are soft, too. So...”

Oda pats the bed next to him.

“Come and sleep. I won’t do anything.”

He pauses to think for a moment, his sapphire-blue eyes flicking up towards the ceiling.

“Probably.”

Probably?!

“Mm. Yeah,” he mumbles, his eyes still fixed on that spot on the ceiling, his expression as impassive as that of a man reviewing a grocery list. 

Crossing his arms, he nods to himself a little, as if he’s made up his mind on something.

Oda looks back at you.

“I won’t do anything,” he says again.

Somehow, it’s even less convincing the second time he says it. 

You don’t budge from your corner and Oda sighs.

“Like a frightened alley cat,” he mumbles under his breath and upon hearing this, you bristle.

“I’m not scared of you!” you snap, stomping towards the bed.

Without further ado, you grab one corner of the covers and get in with your back to him, tucking yourself into bed like an angry little burrito.

“Good work today, Oda-senpai! Good night!”

You hear a soft chuckle.

“You too.”

The lights click off.

“Good night.”

Your pulse pounds loudly in your ears.

It seems to echo back to you in the gloom.

You wonder if Oda can hear it.

He was right. The bed is soft. And warm. And comfy.

It’s been quite a while since he turned the lights off and you’re as tired as you’ve ever been.

And yet...

You shift a little under the covers, your heart racing in your chest.

Even though you’re taking care not to turn in any direction that could risk you coming face to face with Oda (you’ve chosen to sleep with your back to him), you just can’t get yourself to calm down...

How can you? When you’re sharing a bed with Oda Sakunosuke? Both of you wearing nothing but these thin bathrobes?

You feel Oda shift next you, a subtle dip in the mattress accompanied by a soft, barely audible creak of bedsprings. His body is heavy, dense with muscle and you feel yourself rolling slightly towards him before you shift away to stay on your side of the bed.

But the span of mattress between you still seems much too small. 

The minutes tick by, accompanied by only the sound of soft, steady sounds of Oda’s breathing.

You find yourself wondering if he’s asleep.

And if he isn’t... 

Is he lying here, staring at the ceiling or at the opposite wall, with his heart pounding, unable to stop thinking about the person lying behind him?

Just like you?

You feel your pulse quicken at the thought of Oda thinking about you, or even looking at you.

Is he facing you right now?

Your shoulder tingles as you imagine him reaching over and grasping it, pulling you towards him so that you can face him.

Is his hand already stretching towards you?

You clutch the pillow next to your face. Your whole body feels like it’s burning with anticipation.

But he said he wasn’t going to do anything, didn’t he?

And Oda is a man you know you can trust.

He’s helped you out of a pinch so many times already, including this morning’s mission and he’s always been kind to you, even though he is a bit hard to read.

The beating in your chest slows and you feel your body slowly filling with the cold emptiness of disappointment.

Your grip tightens on the pillow.

What if... you really do end the night without anything happening?

Is that really what you want...?

Closing your eyes again, you take a deep breath in and sigh.

The darkness seems to grow deeper.

Suddenly, Oda’s voice pierces the dark.

“Can’t sleep?”

You mumble something unintelligible and shift again, just a little further towards your pillow. You decide not to roll anywhere or you’ll fall out of the bed.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice gentle. “Was it today’s job?”

Oda shifts a little, the little bit of mattress between you sinking under his weight as he moves towards you.

You realize he’s looking at you, or facing you at the very least, and something about that makes you feel a little bit better. Your cheeks warm but you still don’t answer.

“Yeah, it was kind of a messy one, wasn’t it?” Oda says, shifting again.

Judging by the sound of his voice, he seems to be even closer to you than he was before. Your back begins to prickle.

“I told you yesterday, didn’t I? My jobs aren’t for the weak of stomach...”

Oda trails off. He sounds like he’s thinking very carefully about something...

“Hey... if today’s job seriously got to you... I can ask for someone else instead of you next time.”

The bed springs creak as he shifts again (he’s definitely facing you now) and the prickling feeling on your back grows stronger. You’re not sure if you’re growing warm from the proximity to his body or if it’s your own body heating up as you realize he’s drawing closer to you.

“I might not have that much pull at the organization,” he says, “but I can do at least that much--”

“I-It’s not the job.”

Oda stops talking.

“I see.”

The bed springs groan and you realize he’s lying on his back. Probably facing the ceiling with one arm behind his head.

That bathrobe’s probably getting a little looser around his body.

“Then... what’s bothering you, if it’s not today’s job? You wanna talk about it?”

Does he really not know?

You stay silent, not sure if you want to tell him the truth or not. You smile a little.

He’s pretty dense, Oda Sakunosuke, but at least he’s hot...

In fact, he’s a lot of things...

Oda sighs.

“Ah. I think I get it.”

Your heart leaps into your throat.

He’s figured you out. That hand’s going to come reaching over to your side, over the invisible line between you any moment now and then...!!

Your pulse begins to race again. Your eyes are wide and staring at the wall in front of you. You wonder if you used enough soap in the shower earlier--

The bed springs creak again. The weight on Oda’s side of the bed suddenly lifts and you realize he’s getting up.

“If you’re that bothered sharing a bed, I can sleep on the floor--”

“Wait!”

Oda stops moving as you sit up abruptly. He looks down at his arm and sees that you’ve latched onto his sleeve. Realizing it yourself, you let go at once.

“Y-you don’t have to do that,” you tell him. “Sleep on the floor, that is.”

Oda studies you.

“You’re sure?”

You nod and shift back as he sits back down on the bed.

“And if you were wondering... I wasn’t all that troubled by today’s job,” you mumble. “I might not have been with the Port Mafia for long but, I’ve seen and done much worse than this. So you don’t have to worry about me...”

Oda grows quiet.

The silence is starting to feel awkward so you tuck yourself back under the covers and face away.

“How much was it?” you ask, suddenly, to change the topic of conversation. “The hotel room? I can pay for half.”

“What?”

Oda lets out a soft, incredulous chuckle.

“That’s what you were thinking about?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “I have the money, you know. Just tell me how much it was and I’ll transfer you my half in the morning.”

“Like I said,” Oda says, his voice betraying a hint of amusement. “It’s fine. You don’t have to pay me back. Think of it as a favor from a senpai.”

“But I want to,” you insist, rolling over to face him. “I’m not like one of those kids you take care of, you know--”

“I know,” Oda says quietly, cutting you off. 

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.

Something about his tone just now.

It’s almost as if... 

“I don’t see you like that,” he says, his voice low.

...as if he meant he saw you in that way.

In the same way you saw him...

The short stretch of bed between you suddenly feels that much smaller.

“Oda-senpai...”

Your body is burning.

You wonder if he can see what you’re thinking.

He moves closer. His blue eyes lock onto yours.

“You know,” he says quietly. “I did say I wouldn’t do anything earlier. And I meant it. I’m not going to do anything to you, so you can relax. I’m not like that.”

“I know,” you murmur, your gaze dropping to his lips as he finishes speaking. “I know you wouldn’t do anything without my permission. Senpai isn’t that kind of man..."

You bite your lip.

You know what it is you’ve said.

Now the only question is if Oda has figured it out. Has figured you out...

He falls silent.

“Without your permission, huh?” he asks, studying your face.

The red light from the alarm clock behind him casts his head in a dull red glow--like a halo. His expression is pensive.

“Does that mean you’d like me to do something with your permission?”

Your heart’s pounding again. You can’t look away from his face.

Slowly, hesitantly, you nod.

Oda considers you for a moment.

“In that case...”

He reaches towards you and lets his thumb and forefinger curl about your chin. His eyes seem to burn as they look into yours.

“Let me ask you again,” he whispers, his voice low and husky. “Do you want me to do something?”

You wet your lips. The place between your thighs feels hot.

Your voice comes out in a breathless hush.

“Yes.”

Oda smiles.

And it’s the first smile you’ve ever seen on him like this.

He looks utterly bewitching.

“Thought so,” he murmurs.

And without another word, he presses his lips to yours.

[seanfalco]

(More Than Just) Travel Partners - Part III

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Jaskier x f!Reader Word Count: 3.1k Rating: M (for now, will ramp up to E in later parts) Warning(s): Implied past assault/non-con a/n: okay so, I promise this is a reader insert.  There is a plot relevant reason why the reader is introduced with a name, you just have to find out why.  :3 Oooh we’re getting closer to the climax if you know what i mean

[ Masterlist ]

——

Almost two months.

Almost two months now spent on the road with Jaskier and though you felt happier than you had in living memory, every day that passed it became that much harder to keep the truth from him.  

The truth about what you were running from, the terrors that haunted your dreams.

The truth about your identity -- if only to hear him call you by your real name and not the latest alias you’d had to adopt.

By now you knew he would want to help you in any way he could… if he knew.

If you let him.

And you wanted so badly to let yourself trust him.  To let him in.

You often found yourself wondering just how much he’d managed to guess at on his own.  He wasn’t an idiot, no matter how some people tried to paint him as one.  He was sharp.  He noticed things.

So what had he noticed about you?

Chewing your lip as these troubling thoughts circled your head and churned your stomach you barely noticed that Jaskier had stopped singing, his hand going still on his lute, and had asked you a question; Swift still plowing along stolidly beneath you.

“Aev?” he repeated, glancing over his shoulder at you; the adorable flower crown you’d made for him earlier still perched jauntily on his head.

“Hmm?” you hummed, jarred from your dark thoughts.

“What do you think about that line?  Too much, right?” he asked, pulling a face.

“Which line?”

“Only the one I’ve been agonizing over for the last half hour,” he sighed.  “Haven’t you been listening?”

You grimaced as you answered truthfully.  “I’m sorry.  I kinda got lost in thought... and wasn’t paying attention.”

You waited for him to crack a joke or tease you about spacing out, but were met with silence.  “You know… if something’s troubling you, I’m always here to listen.”

The worry that laced his voice tore your gaze to him and upon glimpsing the serious set to his face white hot guilt seared through you and you felt sick.  In that moment it took all your willpower to keep from spilling every secret you’d been carrying.  

The temptation to share your burdens with someone else nearly out won your better senses, but by the time you’d taken a deep breath you had it under control once more.  You couldn’t burden Jaskier with this.  It was already enough that your very presence could potentially put him in danger as well.

“It’s nothing important, really.  Just got caught up thinking about the past.”

You were surprised at how even your voice sounded and Jaskier caught your eye over his shoulder, studying you for a moment before he nodded.

“Alright, well, my offer still stands anytime.  I know it might not seem like it, but I am a good listener,” he said, his usual grin slowly returning, “and an even better shoulder to cry on.”

The smile that tugged on your lips in return wasn’t forced and you huffed a small laugh.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  

The mood back to normal, you gave Jaskier your full attention.  “Okay, so what’s this lyric you’re stuck on?”

——

Not less than an hour later the imposing walls of Tretogor loomed ahead and you firmly tamped down the flutter of worry that was attempting to worm its way back into your gut.  Cities were dangerous for more than one reason, and a capital even more so, but Jaskier had asked for this destination specifically, and you couldn’t say no.

“So where is this friend you need to meet?”  You asked as Jaskier helped you down from Swift’s back.

“Well, he’s less of a friend and more of a uhhh, friendly rival,” he explained, adjusting the strap of his lute case over his shoulder.

“So he’s another bard?”  You asked, raising a brow.

“Well, yes.  He usually hangs around the tavern, the Radiant Rooster, but you don’t wanna go there,” he quickly added, frowning slightly.

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Jaskier?” you asked, half teasing, unsure what to make of the fact that didn’t seem to want you to accompany him.

His blue eyes widened.  “Noononono, that’s not it,” he was swift to assure, raising his hands defensively.  “It’s just… how do I put this nicely?  He’s kind of a dick.  And I didn’t want—”, he sighed, cutting off, his eyes flitting away anxiously, not quite meeting yours.  

“Didn’t want what?” you prompted taking a step closer and tilting your head to catch his gaze.

Taking a deep breath he met your eyes.  “I know how he can be with women, and I didn’t -- I don’t want him to hit on you.”

“Oh.”  You couldn’t seem to form any other words for a moment and Jaskier flushed endearingly.  “That’s… that’s very sweet of you Jaskier, but you know I can handle myself.”

“I know that,” he replied sheepishly.  “To be honest, it’s more for my benefit than yours.”

“Oh.”  

Now it was your turn to flush and look away.  “Alright then,” you said, deciding to cut him some slack and honor his wishes, “I’ll go check out the market while you’re at the Radiant Rooster and I’ll... meet you in about an hour?”

Jaskier sighed with relief and handed you Swift’s reins.

“Perfect!  I won’t be long!”

“Oh, wait!,” you called, lunging forward to grasp the cuff of his doublet before he took off.

“What is it?”  Jaskier spun back around to face you, his eyes briefly flicking to your hand at his wrist.

“You, uhm, you’re still wearing the flower crown,” you explained, pointing to his head while trying to hide your grin.

Glancing upward Jaskier grimaced, reaching up to delicately remove the chain of daisies and buttercups you’d weaved for him earlier.  “Ah, no wonder the guards were staring at me strangely,” he sighed before a grin flashed across his face moments later.  “Oh well, it’ll probably look better on you anyways,” he announced, placing the flowers over your hair and stepping back to admire you, his gaze tender.  “Yep.  Absolute perfection.”

Your heart in your throat you reached up to gingerly brush the flower petals with your fingers, waiting for your voice to return.  “I dunno,” you said weakly, “I thought you looked rather lovely yourself.”

“Flatterer,” Jaskier whispered, leaning close to your ear before grasping your hand and squeezing.  “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

“I should be the one saying that!” you called after him, not quite able to stop smiling.

——

The market was bustling and to kill some time you peered at some of the stalls with little interest before moving on, weaving through the dense crowd.  One stall, however caught your eye and you stopped, ducking under the awning to linger over the wares; your fingers brushing over the small trinkets on display.  One small silver brooch in particular seemed to call to you and you couldn’t help but think how striking it would look pinned to Jaskier’s lapel.  After a moment’s hesitation you purchased it, exchanging a few coins with the shopkeep and slipping it into your belt pouch to surprise him with later.

After circling the rest of the market you picked out a spot off to the side with a good view of the mouth of the street and stood, stroking Swift’s velvety nose while attempting to both stay alert and block out the majority of the noise pressing in on you.  Several minutes elapsed as you watched the people around you, your sharp eyes checking each face that passed; always on the lookout, before you felt someone bump into you hard from behind and stumble to the ground at your feet.

At first glance you could see it was a wizened old crone and you hurried to help her stand; grasping her arm to pull her up.

“Are you alright?”

“‘m fine, fine,” the old woman mumbled, straightening as much as her bent back would allow.  However, when her deep cowl turned toward you, you nearly stumbled back in fright at the sight of her large milky eyes staring straight through you until you realized, feeling rather foolish, that she was merely blind.  Her hand on your wrist tightened painfully though as she continued to stare, bringing you to wince.

“T-that hurts --”

“Be wary child,” her voice rasped urgently; the rest of your words dying on your tongue as she pulled you closer.  “He hunts you still and he is closing in.  Nowhere is safe.  Not until he draws his last breath.  You cannot run forever.”

Unable to speak you merely stood frozen as her bony fingers bruised your skin; fear enveloping you as a mirthless hollow laugh rang in your ears, magnified by the sounds of the market, voices overlapping; too loud in your ears.  Too loud.  Suddenly the crone was gone, disappeared into the swell of the crowd and you whipped your head around, searching the street for her, her warning taunting you until it was all you could hear.  

Out of the sea of people a face suddenly swam into view and you flinched back as it moved straight toward you as if in slow motion -- the face that haunted your dreams nearly every night, and suddenly it was if you had never left; emotions rolling over you, threatening to pull you under.

Pain.  Punishment.  Anger.  Bruises and wounds soothed by soft words and false promises, empty apologies, and poisoned professions of undying love.  Fear; lingering, choking, festering.  Always there, even in the good times.  Always the fear of angering him, his mood darkening in the blink of an eye.  Never knowing which version you would see from day to day, sometimes even hour to hour —the charmer or the monster.  Hands at your waist, pawing at your clothes; alcohol drenched breath on your skin.  No.  No!  Protests ignored, overpowered.  Your duty.  Tired of fighting.  Close your eyes, wait for it to end.

“Aevryn!”  

Strong hands grasped your arms and you struggled for a moment, panic flaring in your chest as you tried to push him away until you realized it was Jaskier.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!  Are you alright?  You’re pale as a sheet.  It’s like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Closing your eyes you tried to ground yourself; focusing on Jaskier’s grip on your arms and the blue of his eyes.  “Aev?  Did something happen?  What did that beggar say to you?”

“Nothing.”  You shook your head, your pulse pounding deafeningly in your ears.  “She just… startled me.”

The bard frowned, unconvinced, but he didn’t press any further.  “Come on, we need to get you calmed down.”  His hand slipped down to your wrist as he led you to the nearest tavern where he proceeded to order you both drinks, choosing a booth tucked into the corner, far away from the other handful patrons.  

“Here, drink this.  It’ll calm your nerves,” he said, pushing one of the mugs toward you.  

You stared down into the mug of pale amber liquid in front of you for a moment before nodding and lifting it to your lips to take a long draw, swallowing the somewhat bitter ale thirstily.  As you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand you noticed Jaskier watching you warily; his eyes worried and his usually grinning lips pressed together in a tense line.

You opened your mouth to try to explain, but he took a deep breath and spoke first.  “Whatever you saw in the market, whatever you were experiencing, it wasn’t real.  You’re safe,” he insisted, moving his hand hesitantly across the table, placing it over yours.

You didn’t move your hand away.

“Thank you,” you murmured, trying to sound as calm as possible, you even managed to look him in the eye though your pulse was still tremulous.  “I’m fine Jask, really.”

He still seemed doubtful as you took another drink, searching for anything to say to distract him.  The ale was starting to calm your nerves, and the warmth of his hand on yours didn’t hurt either.

“So, how did your meeting go at the Radiant Rooster?” you asked, grasping at the distraction.

It did the trick because as soon as you asked, Jaskier’s eyes lit up.  “That’s right, I almost forgot!” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together in excitement.  “I have amazing news.  So, how’s this for exhilarating?  You and I are going to be performing at the palace tomorrow night for the King’s birthday celebration.”

“What?” you asked, gaping at him across the table, the incident in the marketplace all but forgotten for the moment.  “Did I hear you correctly?  We’re playing for the King?  At the palace?  How did you--?”

Jaskier merely grinned, basking in your amazement.  “We’re not the only musicians that will be there,” he admitted, a touch sourly, “but I have it on good authority that we will be amongst the best there and that the party is going to be one to remember.  Or forget, depending on how much wine is served,” he added with a shrug.

“Is your friend going to be performing as well?” you wondered, trying to imagine this man that Jaskier had been so keen to keep you away from earlier.  

Jaskier’s grimace was confirmation enough.  

“Unfortunately,” he grumbled, folding his hands around his mug.  “But it can’t be helped, at least I’ll be able to enjoy watching the pompous ass’s face when we upstage him on his own turf.”  He paused to take a drink, seeming to remember something else mid-swallow.  “Oh!  There is one more thing.  Before tomorrow night we’ll need to upgrade our look,” he explained, picking at the worn silk of his open jacket.  “My doublet’s seen better days and as lovely as you always look, I think something just a little flashier will be just the thing.”

“Flashier...?”  Suddenly self conscious you glanced down at your dress.  “How flashy?”

Sensing your trepidation Jaskier was quick to ease your worries before rambling on.  “Trust me, I’ll make sure you look amazing, love.  I’m thinking something colour coordinated.  It’ll be costly to have something made at such short notice, but I know a guy--”

——

“So, what do you think?”  Jaskier asked, pulling aside the curtain with a flourish and stepping out, his arms spread to show off his new outfit.  As he approached he made a small 180 so you could see him at all angles before stopping in front of you and waiting for your appraisal.

Stepping up to him, a smile playing at the corner of your lips, you straightened his collar, your hands running over the slope of his shoulders, smoothing the silky dark blue fabric.  “You look quite dashing,” you murmured, your fingers moving to fasten the topmost button he’d forgotten.  “You look good in anything, but I think this colour suits you best.  It brings out the striking blue of your eyes, and there’s just enough gold embroidery to draw attention without looking gaudy.”  

Your gaze flicked up to find him watching you, smiling softly and you suddenly realized how close you were.  Just a few more inches and you could easily tilt your head back and press your lips to his.  Shaking yourself from this thought you quickly stepped back, slipping your hands from his chest to clasp in your skirts, your face heating.

Perhaps it was merely your imagination, but you could have sworn Jaskier’s grin faltered slightly, disappointment flickering across his face for an instant before smoothing as you stepped back.  “I’m glad you like it,” he said, glancing down at himself as he ran his own hands over the fabric as well.  “Now, it’s your turn,” he exclaimed with a grin, gesturing toward the changing curtain.  “I’m excited to see how yours looks on you.”

Slightly nervous you slipped into the small changing area to find your new dress hanging there waiting for you.  Jaskier had ordered it to his specifications and this was the first time seeing it with your own eyes.  Running your fingers over the rich midnight blue velvet of the bodice with a soft gasp, you admired the intricate thread of gold embroidery around the neckline, thinning out into little starbursts as they trailed down toward the gauzy tulle of the skirt.  You wondered how much extra Jaskier had to pay to have this made in a day and a half’s time.  The embroidery alone had to have taken a considerable amount of time to apply and you felt kind of sorry for the poor seamstresses who had to work so fast.

Taking a deep breath you stripped and pulled the dress up, slipping your arms through the snug sleeves… there was only one problem you realized, reaching behind yourself… you could only tie the dress up halfway and there was no attendant to help you finish. 

Taking a deep breath you called through the curtain, “Uhm, Jaskier?”  

“Mhmm?  Almost done?”  His voice sang back.  “I’m on pins and needles waiting here, please come out and end my suffering.”

“I uh, I need a little help…”  Pulling back the curtain you stepped out reluctantly, holding the front of the dress tight against your chest so it wouldn’t slip down.  “I can’t finish tying it up on my own.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened noticeably as they very obviously swept down your form and he swallowed.  “Of-of course.”  

You turned so he could tighten the laces, shivers racing up your spine as his fingers brushed against your skin.  He fumbled a couple times, but soon he announced he was finished and stepped back so you could turn to face him once more.

“I was right.  Absolutely breathtaking,” he murmured and you had to duck your head to hide your burning cheeks.  “Do you like it?”

“I do,” you replied, arranging the skirt and swinging your hips to make it swish around your legs, a smile pulling your lips.  “I feel like a princess in a fairytale,” you admitted with a laugh.

“Does that make me the prince?”  Jaskier asked with a wry smile, offering you his hand.  You glanced at it for a moment before taking it and he spun you, dancing without music.

You thought for a second and couldn’t help but laugh harder.  “More like the court bard who constantly tries to woo me with song and sweet words; promises of running off into the sunset together to escape my imminent and unwanted betrothal.”  

Jaskier’s brows rose and he chuckled delightedly.  “Ooo I like that even better.  Fits me to a t.”  He hesitated for a moment and you came to a stop, his arm still wrapped loosely around your waist.  “And do you?”

Somewhat dazed by the sudden stop you tilt your head in confusion.  “Do I what?”

“Run away with the bard?”

“Jaskier…” Your voice dies away and you can’t seem to make it come back for several moments.  “Thank you for the dress,” you finally manage with a whisper, avoiding the question.  “We’re going to look amazing tonight.”

[totaldramafan-lauri]

Yearning

W-well...here it is. The product of two weeks’ work.

A couple months ago, I got inspired to start planning a multi-chapter self-ship fanfic, but since I hadn’t written detailed fic in literal years, I wanted to do an unrelated one-shot to kinda...warm up a little, to see if that’s something I really do wanna do...I’m still unsure if it’ll happen, but I did the warmup, and...it became this THING.

This is based on the Vampire!Spinel AU from @su-reader-imagines, which...I ended up liking, like...way too much. X///D I’m not even a vampire fan normally, but...maybe it was the Spinel part. >/////> I-I won’t link the specific post since there’s NSFW content in it and I don’t wanna make anyone read it if they’re not comfortable with that stuff, but...this story in particular has no blatant NSFW (just implied stuff).

Since I started off writing this for myself, I had planned for this to be self-insert, but then I decided to make it more reader-insert to match the original imagine. However, the first-person POV remained, so it’s...weird. The narrator isn’t mentioned by name and details about them are vague, but it’s still kinda my personality, so....it STILL might be more self-insert then reader-insert? I dunno, it’s kinda in the middle...I-I’m not used to this...

It’s probably obvious that I don’t normally make this kinda stuff, but I still did my best...I didn’t expect this to get as long as it did, but I’m a detail-oriented, overexplaining piece of crap, simply put. X////D

Even if nothing comes of this, I at least finished it, and I’m.....kinda p-proud of that, even if....it’s kinda embarrassing....S-so if you read this, I...h-hope y-you...enjoy.....>///////<

Now if you e-excuse me I’m gonna find a dumpster to hide in....

Yandere warning for the very end!

---

It had been a few days since then, but I was still reeling. A part of me was still in disbelief. That couldn't have been real, could it? I mean...something like that, happening to me of all people? I had always been down on my luck...Ignoreable. Average. There was nothing about me worth noting. Occasionally, something good would happen, sure...but nothing like that.

But then I'd look at myself in the mirror, and see the marks on my neck. And I'd be brought back to that night. It was real.

My mind would fill with overwhelming emotions whenever I'd think about it...and whenever I'd close my eyes, I'd see her there in front of me.

Looking back at me with red eyes, grinning playfully, her fangs showing. I'd see myself laying on my back, her hands all over me, as I let her do whatever she wanted...The heat in my body, rising....The sound of her voice, teasing me...

"Spinel..."

Her name, escaping my lips.

Luckily, no one was around to hear, but I caught myself anyway, snapping back to reality. I'd been standing there in the bathroom in front of the mirror for how long? A few minutes? And after I'd already relieved myself? I flushed in embarrassment. Get it together, I thought to myself. After splashing some water on my face, I went back to work.

Never before had work been so frustrating. I couldn't focus on anything. My pace was so sluggish that it felt like I was moving underwater. And I had to keep a poker face the entire time. I couldn't let anyone know what happened. They wouldn't believe me! They'd think I was crazy! And maybe I was, but I didn't wanna bring attention to it. I had already been getting some looks from coworkers due to my neck, but no one asked me about it. That was good. I tried to imagine myself attempting to explain in the sanest way, "Yeeeeaaah, I met an actual vampire and let her drink from me." Yeah, that wasn't happening. I hadn't believed they existed, either, until I met her.

I tried everything I could to distract myself, but the fluttering in my chest would just keep coming back...It was like she had left her mark on me in more than one way...

Even before I knew what she was, she still seemed like someone who would only exist in my dreams. She was lively and interesting, with a unique way of talking and dressing. Even her name was unique. She was charismatic, and confident...and she had a voice that you loved listening to. The way she could switch between playful and downright seductive...Just thinking about it...about the kind of things she said to me...

There was no way I was her first. She was way too good at that. But the very idea that someone like her could pay attention to me, and treat me so well...I should consider myself lucky to have spent just the one night with her...right?

So...what was this yearning I felt...? Was I really that needy...?

The memories were so fresh...Me and her, in the back room, making out, and her drinking from me...and then making me the happiest I had ever been in my life. In that perfect moment, I didn't want anything else. I just wanted to do whatever she told me to. I was hers, and hers alone...

I didn't expect to spend the entire night with her, but I was riding that high for so long. I didn't wanna leave her arms. The aftercare...I could still feel her icy hands trailing down my back. I could still hear her voice, cooing in my ear, telling me what a good girl I was...It had made me so happy, knowing I pleased her...

I remember all the little petnames she called me. My favorite was "doll". That was the one that made me feel the most...special. And I think she caught on to that, because she'd call me it again and again. I was her doll. At that time, I existed only to make her happy, and I was doing my job!

Spinel's doll...

"Stay with me a bit longer? Please~?" she asked, while gently rubbing my back.

"I...wanna stay..." I answered, still dizzy, "But...will we...get in trouble...?"

She chuckled. "Nah, we won't. I told ya, I know the guy. No one's gonna bother us, I promise~..." she assured me gently.

"OK...I'll stay then..."

I turned around and subconsciously scooted into her a bit more, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She didn't seem to mind, putting her arm around me and holding me from behind. My heart felt like it was about to burst...I'd never experienced this level of intimacy before, and this was just the icing on the cake.

"Mmmm, you're so warm, doll~..."

At that comment, I'm sure I got even warmer. I felt so weak, but so happy. We simply laid there in silence, with her occasionally breaking it to hum to me. Soon, I felt myself get drowsy. It was getting late, but...I didn't wanna move.

"...Spinel?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"I'm...getting tired...Is it OK if I fall asleep...?"

"Course it is. You've earned it, toots..." she spoke softly, "And don't worry...I'll still be here when ya wake up~."

After she gave her permission, I drifted off to sleep, which ended up lasting all night. And sure enough, she had told the truth, as I woke up still in her arms.

And I panicked.

I jolted upright and frantically checked the time. I didn't know it would be all night! Oh crap! How would I explain myself!?

I told her I had to go.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because my mom's probably worried sick about- er", Did I really just reveal to her that I still live with my mom? "-I live with my mom, and I've never stayed the night without saying anything, so-" I felt increasingly awkward with every word that came out of my mouth. "And, and...crap, I have work! Wait, that's tomorrow..."

She tried to calm me down, but at that point, I couldn't. My anxiety was through the roof. This was supposed to be a simple trip to a bar, to try something new. But I ended up staying the night at the place with someone I just met. And it was incredible. But now that it was over, everything catching up to me, I just felt bad. I felt...guilty. I took up so much of Spinel's time. She was most likely most active at night, and I kept her in one place for so long. And compared to her, I was practically nothing. I didn't deserve any of that...but she gave it to me anyway. I was a piece of crap who wasted her time.

So all I could do was apologize. "I-I'm so sorry!" I cried out, jumping to my feet. I wobbled a little before steadying myself.

And...she let me go. She didn't protest at all, saying that it was fine, she wasn't keeping me there. She was calm throughout my freak out. She remained sitting in bed, at first with an amused grin...but when I apologized, she looked away. I couldn't see her face anymore, and her voice became more monotone than ever.

"You can leave if ya want," she said.

She didn't care anymore, I could tell. I overstayed my welcome for sure.

Before leaving the room, I turned around one last time, giving a quick but honest "thanks" for the incredible night together...and she finally looked back at me, with a slight smile.

And now...here I was. Stuck in a perpetual daydream, trying to keep myself together. A coworker's voice snapped me out of my memory of the last time I saw her. I quickly apologized, trying my darnedest to keep that poker face I always wore, but it was harder than ever.

Ugh, I'm such a mess...What did you do to me?

My mind was filled with questions. Just who was she? Where was she from? Was she born a vampire, or did she become one? How long has she been alive? What kind of things does she like to do? Does she have friends? There was so much I didn't know about her...I'd been too caught up in the moment to think about those things that night, but now, I couldn't help but feel curious.

I couldn't get her off my mind...As the week went by, I tried to piece myself back together. I tried to think rationally, telling myself to let it go, it'll never happen again, and so on. But nothing worked. The fluttering in my heart wouldn't stop. At first, I hated it, but now, when it was undeniable, I finally had to give in to my feelings...and I finally put together the words in my head that had been so obvious the whole time.

Wanna see her again.

I knew that could easily go badly, knowing me. I'd never been good at social situations, always opting to stay on the sidelines so I wouldn't embarrass myself. If I really knew what's best for me, I'd quit while I'm ahead, right?

But the more time passed, the more agonizing it got...I missed her voice, her touch, her eyes, her lips...everything. After only one night, I already felt so empty without her, so longing...I wanted to be her doll again. Was that so wrong...?

Wanna see her again...

For a while, I was being pulled in two directions, with another part of me shouting that it was a bad idea. Being brave is always a bad idea to me. But I couldn't help it. So I told myself, that, once the weekend came...I'd go with my gut, for once.

Wanna see her again...

---

This was a mistake.

Coming back here was a mistake. That's all I could think of as I sat there, alone, staring at my lap. Here I was at the bar again, but now what? Why didn't I have a plan?

I remembered why I don't come to these kind of places often - I always feel out of place at them. The kinds of people who go here are usually the polar opposite of me...loud, social, sometimes even aggressive, with eye-catching outfits...and there I was, trying not to stick out like a sore thumb. Maybe if I'm quiet, they won't notice me, I thought, I gotta not bring attention to myself...

"Can I get you anything?" an annoyed-sounding voice asked.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when the bartender spoke to me. When did he get there? I hadn't heard him approach! "Um, nothing! No thanks!" I said quickly. I wasn't here for the food or the drinks.

But the way the man looked at me told me I probably should have ordered something. I mean, who comes to a bar just to sit there awkwardly, right? I mean, besides me. Based on the clock on the wall, I had been here for...almost twenty minutes already? I averted my eyes and spun myself around so that my back was facing the counter, as if that would shield me from the embarrassment.

My eyes scanned the room, hoping to catch at least a glimpse of the one person I wanted to see. There were a fair number of people, but she was still nowhere to be found. I sighed, feeling my heart sink.

She had told me she came here twice a week, and it had been exactly a week since then, so...it would make sense for her to be here tonight, right? Or was she more unpredictable? She did seem like that type...Or maybe it was me. Maybe she was here, just avoiding me...No, no, that can't be it, can it?

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to expel that thought from my mind. Then I looked up again, watching people dancing to the music playing. My mind was instantly brought back to dancing with her that night, before she led me away. I had no idea what I was in for. All I was concerned with was dancing with this attractive lady and hopefully not making a fool of myself. I remember it feeling like the temperature in the room was rising...she had been so close...

I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. I thought that maybe, she'd like to see me again, since it had seemed like she liked taking care of me...but I was stupid to think that.

Did I really think I was worth anything to her? If I was, she wouldn't have let me leave so easily. She could've just as easily convinced me to stay. She had marked me. There was evidence I was hers. She could've told me I wasn't to leave without her permission. Or heck, she could've told me she was worried about me after how weak I'd been! But no. She was simply done with me after that.

I was just a food source, that's all. She just indulged me afterward because it was so obvious I was into her. She was humoring me. Why didn't I piece that together? Was I really that stupid? Just look at me!

I started chewing on my fingers nervously as my anxiety took control. Desperate, I scanned the room once again. Did that person just look at me!? I looked away, still chewing. I didn't just bring attention to myself, did I? Was I staring? I turned back around to the counter, looking at the clock instead.

A half hour. I'd been just sitting here doing nothing for a half hour. Great.

Thank god the place wasn't too packed. And that the bartender was pretending I wasn't there at the moment. It was then that I had a thought: maybe he knew her. I could've asked him if she was here. But no, that'd be too awkward for words..."Excuse me sir, is Spinel here?" Though I didn't fully doubt I wouldn't be the first to ask that...

Maybe...she's with someone else right now...

That thought hit me harder than anything else, and I finally started to break down. I leaned against the counter, my head in my hands, trying to compose myself for a few minutes. I couldn't stay here much longer...the music, the voices, the looks, I had to get out soon-

"Hello, nurse~"  

When I heard that familiar greeting, my eyes snapped open, and I slowly uncovered my face. Was it really...? There was no way I was hearing things, right?...After a couple seconds, I looked over...and there she was.

She was looking right at me, a playful smirk on her face, in the same way as I remembered. Her hair was back up in pigtails, too. It was like I had stepped back in time...I felt the heat rise to my face, my mouth hanging open. This was really happening. She was actually here! Now what!?

Say something! "Uhhh..." I cleared my throat. "Hey..."

She giggled. That alone caused my heart to do flips. "Well, gee~" she said, almost innocently, as she took a step toward me, "What brings your pretty face back to a place like this? Is it the drinks? The tunes?" she tilted her head, "The entertainment?"

I could tell she was teasing me. What I couldn't tell was whether or not she was mocking me. I knew I didn't fit in, but having it implied by her made me feel a bit embarrassed. Still, she had approached me...Just when I was worrying this was hopeless, she approached me, just like I wanted...Now more than ever, I wish I had a plan, because I felt like all I could do was sit there, my eyes fixed on her. I didn't know I would get this far...I was so sure I was fooling myself...

"Er...um, well..." I laughed nervously, "I-I know, I don't look the part...but that doesn't mean you gotta rub it in..."

"Oh, I didn't say there was anything wrong with that!" she replied, "I know that a lotta people have secrets to hide...And I'm sure you have your own reasons for bein' here~"

My own reasons...I felt my heartbeat pick up speed at that. She knows. Once again, I made it obvious. Every part of me was calling out for her, wanting me to spill out all my feelings to her...She's right there. Don't back down. Don't run away.

"Y-yeah, you could, say that I-ah!"

Just when I began talking, she leaned down to be at eye level with me. My body tensed up, and my words got caught in my throat. Her face was very close, to the point where I could feel her breath on my skin...She was still smiling, but there was an intensity in her eyes that I'd never seen before. I could only imagine how red my face was at that moment..."A-ah..." I didn't move an inch, but I looked to the side to see if anyone was watching us. It didn't look like it.

Then she reached out and touched my neck. I inhaled sharply as a shiver raced down my spine. She was just as cold as I remember, a sensation I didn't know I liked before...but I welcomed it. I had missed her touch so much...Her fingertips gently brushed against the spot where my marks were healing, and she stared there silently. Her other hand went to my thigh. The intimacy of the moment made me feel like I was gonna burst...

"Miss me, doll?" she spoke again, softly, as her eyes met mine.

I practically melted when I heard my favorite nickname again. I managed a nod. "Mhm..."

A hum. "Good..." she crooned. Then she leaned in further and kissed my cheek. It was small, but it was enough to make all my previous worries disappear...and make me want more. "C'mon," she patted my thigh before taking one of my hands in hers, standing up straight. I followed her lead and stood up as well. And, as if history was repeating, she proceeded to lead me to the back room, where it could be just the two of us.

I liked holding her hand. It felt...assuring, in a way. It made me feel like she really did want me here, and that coming back was the right choice. I didn't know what would happen next...Was she gonna drink from me again? Did she just wanna talk? Or will she...indulge me again? All I knew was that, for now, things felt right.

"S-Spinel?"

"Hmmmmm~?"

"I...I was wondering...uh..."

This was the time to start getting to know her better. I had so many questions for her, so many things I was curious about...but I was getting tongue-tied. Great. Why did I have to be so easy to fluster? It was getting difficult to put my thoughts into words, and I mentally kicked myself. I can't lose my nerve now!

She giggled. "It's OK, dearie~" she said, and squeezed my hand as we continued walking, "You don't have to say anything right now. Take your time. It's not like I'm gettin' any older!"

She laughed at her little joke, and I did, too. Her laughter was contagious. Either that, or I was so enamored with her that I'd follow anything she did. I couldn't tell yet.

But I still wanted to say more. Where would I even start, though? She was such a mystery...I guess there'd be time for that later. Yeah. Later, after I calm down. If she'd let me calm down, that is.

We entered the back room, and I looked around as she closed the door behind us. Had she taken anyone else down here since then? That was my first thought, but I quickly shook it out. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that I was here again. There was no one else here. It was just me and her. Me and Spinel. And Spinel was holding my hand right now...

Almost immediately after she closed the door, she suddenly pulled me towards her, and into a kiss. I squeaked in surprise, before closing my eyes and letting my feelings completely take me over. I felt her free hand trail up my back, slowly, softly, and I felt my whole body flush. This...this was what I had wanted...It was like I never left...

The kiss was short, too short. She pulled away, and I opened my eyes to see her smiling softly at me. It wasn't the teasing grin that she usually wore. She looked more...sincere. I smiled back, in complete bliss.

"I didn't think you'd come back", she said.

"You...didn't...?"

"No one does. It's always one and done with people", she chuckled softly, looking away from me. "They give me what I want once, then never come back. So I always gotta move on to the next one."

This shocked me. Was I really the first one to do this? No one else has ever come back after the first time? I found that unbelievable...I was such a coward...so why me, of all people?

"It gets lonely..." she brought my hand to her face, "even when I'm not alone, I'd still feel so lonely..."

My face fell as her words hit me.

Spinel was...lonely...?

She seemed to carry herself with such confidence, so I never would've guessed...She seemed like someone who would have many friends, and many people vying for her attention. Especially considering how good she was at...what she does...I guess being a vampire would lead to some difficulties with getting people to stick around? I guess not many people wanna experience that more than once...Did she scare them? I remember being scared at first...but she had taken such good care of me that I wasn't scared anymore...She wasn't intimidating, was she? How can someone not enjoy her company?

Was it, maybe...that no one felt they were worthy of her attention?

Already, I was learning more about her, and it wasn't what I was expecting at all...I wanted to help her, but I didn't know how. I was pretty lonely myself. Not many people could bring themselves to give a crap about me. Could it be...that we had something in common?

I didn't know what to say. I didn't wanna ask her about it. She seemed happy to see me, and I didn't wanna ruin it. So, I simply apologized. "I'm....sorry...."

And immediately, she looked back at me, and the playfulness returned.

"Awww, don't be sorry, doll~" she cooed, "Now I know that you're not like that! And that makes me so happy...knowing you're just as special as I thought you were~"

Heat rushed to my cheeks at her words. "I-I'm really not that special..." I tried my best not to stumble over my words, and began talking faster, "I...I just wanted to...to get to know you better, that's all. And I didn't expect myself to get this far, to be honest..." I forced a laugh.

"But you are special!" she disagreed, "Take it from someone who knows uniqueness when she sees it..."

She finally let go of my hand and wrapped her arms around my waist, pulling me close to her. She leaned down, bringing her face close to mine. My heart was about ready to burst out of my chest...

"The way you're lookin' at me right now...I've never seen anything like it."

Before I could say anything more, she brought her lips to mine in a passionate kiss, much longer and more heated than the last. I tried to kiss her back, but she completely overpowered me, denying me barely any room to breathe. I could barely even think as she made out with me, her hands wandering all over my body, claiming every part of me. She was so cold, but she made me feel so warm...I loved it. Finally giving in, I wrapped my arms around her, moaning weakly. She giggled in response, a noise I couldn't get enough of.

For that moment, it felt like she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

Once she pulled back, I was panting, elated, but a complete mess in her arms. I could only imagine what I looked like. I must've looked pathetic, my mouth hanging open as she left it, my face flushed, my eyes closed. My legs felt like jelly, so I leaned into her, resting on her shoulder as I caught my breath. She let out an airy chuckle, sounding breathless as well. I felt one of her hands stroking my back. I tried to collect my thoughts about what just happened. Holy crap that was incredible, you're so perfect, Spinel, thank you, I'm so sorry I left, I don't wanna leave again, I'll let you have me for as long as you want...I'm yours now, I'm yours...

I'd never felt so desperate for someone in my whole life...She was almost intoxicating. Part of me knew I should try and resist, try to be rational...but the rest of me didn't care. I'd been yearning for this all week, and all that frustration had finally paid off...

"How lucky I was to come across a dame like you", she spoke seductively into my ear, "So cute...so sensitive...and so...delicious~" she whispered the last word. I shivered, gripping her tighter as if it'll save me from melting into a puddle on the floor.

All I could do was whimper in response, causing another chuckle from her.

"That's right, doll, I mean every word..." she continued, "And ya came back, just to see me...You're such a sweet thing~. In fact," Both of her hands began wandering up my back, resting on my shoulders, "I missed ya more then ya thought I did...I missed holdin' ya like this...Touchin' ya like this...Do ya believe me? I've been so, so lonely...I missed ya, my sweet doll..."

'My sweet doll'. 'MY'. I felt my heart soar at her words. Spinel missed me...! And I made her happy...!

"...And now, I'm never lettin' ya go again."

Her voice suddenly took on a tone I'd never heard before...Darker, more growly, with her accent more pronounced. My eyes finally snapped open again as she aggressively jerked me back by my shoulders, pushing me into the nearest wall, pinning me there. My heart was racing a mile a minute as I could only look up at her. She was grinning widely, and not in her normal way. This grin was manic, predatory, and it made me begin to shiver. What was going on? What was she gonna do? I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Warning bells were going off in my mind, but I was frozen like a deer in headlights.

And then, her eyes began to glow. Her red eyes were already one of her most noticeable features, but now, they were the brightest thing in the dark room. I squinted at the light, and instinctively tried to look away, but a hand went to my face, forcing me to look at it. I didn't know what was happening, but I would bear with it for her. And so, I braced myself. My first guess was that she would drink from me again, and I welcomed that thought. She was welcome to use me in that way if she wanted...

But nothing happened. As I continued looking at her, the tension in my body disappeared, and I stopped trembling. In fact, I began to feel weak in the knees. She wasn't saying anything, and she still got that reaction out of me...The sight of her face so close to mine, looking like she could ravage me at any moment...and I, the prey, was so helpless, pinned against the wall...This was an image I never wanted to forget.

With each passing second, I felt myself melt more and more, to the point where my legs started to give out. I slid down the wall a little, and then her hands went under my arms, helping me stay on my feet. But even then, it kept getting worse.

"S-Spinel..." I breathed out, attempting to speak, "I-I feel...I can't...." The sentences weren't forming. I felt my body grow numb, the only thing keeping me from collapsing on the ground being her arms...

"Shhh...Don't worry", she said, her voice as smooth as butter, "I got'cha~"

My vision was starting to blur, but I couldn't look away from her. Her gorgeous eyes were unblinking as she looked back at me, the eerie red glow making them all the more beautiful. I was putty in her hands...It was as if there was nothing else around me...nothing else that mattered. It was just her.

Just Spinel, the woman of my dreams.

My eyelids began to grow heavy, my body fully limp. With the last of my consciousness, I realized that this sensation wasn't normal. Was she doing this? I would've been scared had I caught on earlier, but now, I didn't care. I just wanted to stay like this...it felt so good...

"That's it...~" she purred, "Now, close your eyes for me...Just relax for a bit, and let me take care of everything~"

That was the last thing I heard before I closed my eyes, and quickly passed out in her arms.

When I woke up, I was in a place I had never seen before.

[valkyrieofsmut]

Im a black reader of urs and wanted to talk about ur reader inserts. Theyre amazing and I really love them. But its hard to read them because I don’t always feel included. With things like the reader blushing or hair being brought up its hard to put myself in that space. Ur not a bad writer, ur one of my favorites. Im black and dark skin so u can’t see me blush. And my hair is a different thing. If u wanted to work on this there’s a blog called “writing with color” that helps with writing POC.

(Bet you thought I was going to forget you! Naw, just at work and a long winded bitch… Lol.)

Hi! I am completely open to talking about anything that won't give away my private info. Thank you for sending me this! This is great feedback, and that will be a great resource! (I'm going to go follow it after I get my long ass answer out.) 

I'm sorry that you don't feel included! I honestly try my best, but my experience is limited, as I'm white, and all of my POC relatives have generally paler skin as well. I even try to think of kids I went to school with, but there again, I don't live in their skin, so it's pretty limited experience. 

Now. I could just brush this off, and say "you lose some in trying to please the many" but that is bullshit, and I think you (and anyone else who feels left out) deserve to see why I failed. Openness is honesty! And I'm going to cross my fingers and hold my breath, hoping I don't sound like an insensitive, racist asshole at the end of this… (That is not my intention, and would seriously make me cry… but I've never experienced living in darker skin, so please have patience with me…)

This is a completely serious, honestly just trying to know to get things right, question. Directed at you personally, since we are discussing you for a moment (feel free to send another anon ask if you don't feel comfortable with being known). Do you really not see blushes on your face? Not even in a slight change of hues or anything? (Some good embarrassment shield right there… Jealous… I turn red like a stop sign if it doesn't stop…)

As I stated, my family are all on the middle to lighter side of the spectrum (and not because they're mixed), but I do notice their cheeks get darker when they blush, even if it's a darker "brown" and not "red" or "pink" or whatever. Maybe it has to do with undertone? (I thought I was getting away with it being general enough when I vagued it out to only "her cheeks darkened"... damn…)

Believe me, I know hair is an entirely different conversation … I DO NOT claim to know what your hair specifically is like.

Personally, my hair is more like mixed ethnicity (my mom theorizes from the Middle Eastern region but who tf knows), even though I'm white. And I was always so jealous of my cousin Camille's hair! She's a few years younger than me, so whenever my aunts were having salon day doing hair and nails and stuff, I always wanted to do her hair in the pigtail puffs- they're so freaking adorable! (I mean, I was only like 9, so they weren't amazing, but… I did what I could… Lol) (realize that I have to come back and mention my cousin Camille is black... so you don't think I'm trying to do that to a white girl's hair... lol)

When I write hair, I try to remember her (natural) hair, for inclusion. I personally have a pain in the ass mop that is so long I accidentally sit on it sometimes (somehow the hour it takes to wash, day long drying, and all the aftercare of moisturizing spray, anti frizz lotion and constantly breaking combs is worth it… Somehow...) but I know short hair is a big thing, so I try to keep it only touching hair on neck to be neutral enough, and keep the styles as vaguely up, down, or braided (though I've probably slipped and put ponytail in a few times), as it's something I've seen on all varieties of hair I can think of. (I've seriously spent an insane amount of time sitting, staring blankly at my computer thinking, but what about (x ethnicity)? Could their hair do this? And (x ethnicity), too? Before finally giving up and thinking "a vague 'put her hair up' will prompt them to think of how they put their own hair up, right...?")

It's GOOD CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM to know that I'm failing to capture a section I thought I was including at least to an extent (still feel bad about it, though!). 

PLEASE, NEVER BE AFRAID TO SEND THINGS LIKE THIS; CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS HOW WRITERS GET BETTER AT WRITING, AND WRITE BETTER THINGS THAT YOU WANT TO READ! IF THE WRITER CAN'T HANDLE POLITE CRITICISM, i dunno… maybe they need to mature a little more and not take themselves so seriously… realize they they don't know all about everything… 

Also, please never be afraid to point me in the direction of reference material! (Maybe it'll balance out the large amount of reference material I have for all the psychopath/ harm/ killer stuff I have for the darker parts of my writing and I'll look more normal…) 

Again, I hope you take this as the explanation/ open questioning thing it is and I don't look like a giant asshole. 

Thank you for the ask, and the reference material, anon! I'm going to work on it, and I hope it'll show in the next (new; I have some that are already set to go out that I can't change without rewriting) thing I put out. Feel free to let me know if I still suck or if it's changing in the right direction! 

[cleverri]

It’s Hell in South Park!

SOUTH PARK READER INSERT | written by MOD clever

chapter guide: pt.1 | pt.2 | 🥀

NOTE: I also recommend seeing the comic yourself, it’s called It’s Hell in South Park, cause the artists and writers are doing an amazing job so far! Most of this chapter is just the script from the comic, it’ll change once you appear.

warnings; none

Craig eyes soon fluttered open right when he felt the buzzing under his hand, and soon realized it was morning time. He sat up quickly and picked up, confused about what exactly happened.

"...what." Craig asks, rubbing his eyes to get the tiredness out.

"Hey dude, just checking to make sure you're not dead or anything." Craig went wide eyed as Token's voice went through, before he tried to remember what happened at night.

"No?"

"Okay well just after what happened last night we wanted to make sure you were alright. Also usually you meet us outside so we can all walk to school and today you didn't, so...Just seemed a little weirder considering the circumstances, and..." Token started rambling, making Craig huff out of annoyance.

"Token. Can you slow the fuck down." Craig asks, raising a brow.

"Sorry, you just woke up, huh?"

"Yeah, thanks for that."

"Sorry." Craig cracked a smile, before letting out a chuckle.

"Sooooo... Are you not going to school today or something?" Token then asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ugh. Do I have to?" Craig asks, feeling the need to get some water, or else he'd pass out.

"I mean I'm not your mom, but..." Craig then let out a groan of annoyance.

"Fine. Just gimmie a few, I'll catch up with you guys or...Whatever..."

"Okay, see you soon, dude." Token says before ending the call.

"Yeah...When did I even pass out last night..." Craig asks himself, getting up and walked over to the camera, that was still somehow recording. "Oh yeah I was gonna, like... Record myself playing that stupid fucking game...It's been recording for 9 hours? I didn't even put an SD card in it. God I'm so fucking stupid..." Craig then shut off his camera, and decided to watch it after school, since there was barely any time left to get to school.

After a few more minutes, he walked out of his room, his outfit on and started walking down the stairs, still bored.

"Not even any time for breakfast..." He mumbled to himself, and sighed, planning on eating something later on. He grabbed his book bag and walked out the front door, closing and locking it behind him. He started walking down the sidewalk, bringing out his phone in the process.

"Oh yeah...I forgot I made some random blog last night...Great." Craig rolled his eyes in annoyance, but lightened up a bit when he saw his friends up ahead. He rushed forward to greet them.  "Hey!"

"Oh hey dude-" Token started greeting, but was interrupted by Clyde, who seemed too happy that Craig was there.

"DUDE YOU'RE ALIVE!"

"Yep."

"So how did the rest of your night go?" Token asks, putting his phone away. Kenny raised a brow and leaned on Clyde, wanting to know what happened also.

"Eh. I think I passed out like, right after you guys left. I set up a camera and I think I played a little more of that game, but I'm kinda blanking it past that part. I had a crazy dream though." Craig explained, shrugging. It was very weird at what happened to him.

"Oh TELL IT, bro!" Clyde exclaimed, smiling, wanting to hear the story.

"Was it a scary dream?" Token asks, raising a brow. He noticed how shaken up Craig seemed to be.

"...I don't really know. It was, like... weird. So in my dream, I was totally playing with the ouija board some more." Craig started explaining, putting his phone away.

"Dude I totally had to change my pants when I got home after that, by the way." Clyde muttered.

"Yeah, I know." It was silent for a bit, but then Craig decided to keep explaining "Anyway-I was playing it, and I ended up talking to this guy. I guess it was a demon or something. I dunno. I talked, and eventually there was like, a knock at my window. I checked it out, and then I turned around, and there was just two demons, standing there." Craig said, now remembering what the demons looked like.

"That's pretty scary, dude." Token muttered, glancing over at the school.

"...What did they do?" Kenny asked, very into with the story.

"The male, like. Had that thing you move around the board. It was holding that thing. They were both speaking gibberish for a bit, but then the male snapped that thing in half, and told me some weird cryptic shit." Craig explained even more, following his friends into school. Token thought for a bit, trying to figure out why this dream happened.

"Damn, dude. You sure you didn't actually get haunted?" Token asked one more time, glancing over at his friend, who only nodded.

"Nah. I woke up this morning and there wasn't shit. The camera I set up didn't even have a card in it. I didn't even have time to watch the playback on it, but I'm pretty sure it was just 99% me sleeping. So I shut it off and left." Craig entered the classroom and sat in his seat. He watched as his friends did the same, before looking at him once more.

"If it helps you at all, I dreamt about pirates." Token joked, earning a short laugh from Kenny.

"Didn't really need help, but thanks for telling me anyways I guess-"

"Okay class!" Craig and his friends sat straighter, and watched as they're teacher moved over to the front of the class. "I hope you've gotten your morning questions all answered. I'll grab them from your desks in a moment, and then we can all start today's lesson. But first, I'd like to say that you all have two new students joining the classroom!" Craig leaned his head on to his fist, bored already. "This is pretty exciting, we don't get too many new visitors in this town, now do we? Come on in, you two." The teacher looked toward the door, and entered two students. Craig glanced over, before going wide eyed. He stared in shock as the two new students went beside the teacher.   "I'd like you all to meet your new classmates, and hopefully, new friends...Go on, tell them your names, dears." Craig sat up straight once more, still in a state of shock.

There was one male teen, messy blonde hair and cyan eyes. He seemed really twitchy and stressed. Then there was the female. She was a bit taller then the male, and had her messy (H/C) in a bun(Unless it's too short :P) and also had (E/C) that seemed to pierce each and every soul in this classroom. She also seemed to have some burns scattered across her body. They seemed way too familiar...

"T...Tweek! My name is Tweek!" Tweek exclaimed, flinching at how loud he was for a second. Tweek then glanced at the female, smiling a bit when the female winked at him, as if she had a plan going on in her head.

"And my name is (Y/N). Very nice to meet you all." (Y/N) stated, smiling warmly to her new classmates.

"Why don't you two go take the seats over there next to Craig, and we can get started on today's lesson!"

"Hhh, okay...!" Tweek muttered, walked over and sat down, (Y/N) following right after, just right beside Tweek. Craig stared at Tweek for a bit, finding it strange that this student looked way to much like the demon in his dream. He then leaned forward and stared at (Y/N), trying to figure out where she got the burns from. After a while, he realized Tweek caught him staring.

"Are you staring at us...?" Tweek asked, well whispered, but it got (Y/N)'s attention. She looked over and raised a brow.

"No-"

"Why are you staring at us? Do we look funny? Is there something on my face? Oh god, I must look so stupid–" Tweek started to panic a bit, getting (Y/N) to calm him down.

"Uh, no... You're just..." Craig trailed off, looking over at (Y/N), who seemed to notice, and hide her burns from him. Craig went wide eyed, suddenly feeling bad for making her think that's why he was staring. "Nevermind." Tweek glanced at his friend, before looking at Craig, hatred in his eyes.

"What do you mean I'm "just..." ???" Tweek asked, venom dripping from his voice.

"Dude, nothing." 'He's gonna be so annoying, I can already tell.' Craig thought, glancing away for a second.

"What???"

"I said nothing."

"Agh, why won't you stop staring at us then?!" Tweek asked once more, not daring to break his glare.

"I don't want any trouble, man! Just mind your own business!"

"...O-Okay?" Craig looked away, got his phone out under his desk and started texting Token, very confused about what just happened.

~~~

"So what exactly about him freaked you out, dude? It's not like you to be scared of like...Anything." Token asked, now walking with Craig to the lunchroom.

"Okay like, maybe freaked out wasn't the best way to put it. But there's something weird about them..."

"What do you mean? I noticed Tweek was kinda twitchy the whole class. And (Y/N) just has those burns on her body?" Token stated, following his friend into the lunch line.

"Yeah, but they were only in your first period, dude. So far, they've been in every single class of mine." Craig muttered, grabbing his lunch.

"Dang dude, all three?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe it's just a weird coincidence."

"Like, sure. I could get behind that idea, but like...They look so familiar." Craig stated simply, setting his lunch down an the table, and sat down, Token doing the same.

"Familiar? They're the weirdest looking people I've seen here in a while. Have you seen them before or something?" Token asks, quite confused.

"...I dunno... Maybe?" Craig asks, before taking a bit out of his pasta, which tasted like shit.

"What do you mean "maybe?"

"Well, like, you know how I had that dream about a demon or a ghost or whatever?" Craig put his fork down, trying to figure this all out.

"Uhh, yeah?"

"He kinda, like...I dunno. They kinda reminded me of...–"

"Hey..." Craig jumped a bit, before looking over only to see Tweek and (Y/N), seeming a bit nervous.

"Oh. It's you two again." Craig stated, looking over at them in suspicion.

"Yeah. Hey-Um... I just..." Tweek started, but was interrupted by (Y/N), who crossed her arms, covering up the burns on her left arm.

"He wanted to apologize." She simply stated, smiling a bit.

"I probably came off as rude or something, earlier...I just get nervous when people stare at me! Or my friend! I think they hate us, or, or-I don't know, maybe they wanna beat the shit out of us–We're new here, man, I don't wanna get into a fight on my first day, hgghghgh!!! I'm just saying sorry because I don't want any beef or anything! And everybody is avoiding us too, probably because we're fucking weird, I don't know! I was wondering if we could sit with you guys because, hhh... I don't know! You're the only one we've talked to so far..." Craig glanced between Tweek and (Y/N), noting how scared they are.

"Oh god I'm sorry I'm–" Tweek started up once more, but stopped when (Y/N) put a hand on his shoulder, calming him down.

"Dude I can't think that fast, give me a fucking second to process everything you just said." Craig muttered, still glancing around.

"Oh god I'm just rambling all over the place again aren't I??? Fuck, I'm so fucking sorry–"

"Dude, chill." Craig sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before coming to a decision. "Okay, whatever. Just like. Sit... not next to me. Either of you. Sit next to Clyde, or something..." Craig then just pulled out his phone. Tweek and (Y/N) glanced at each other in worry, before sitting down.

"Hhhhh, o... okay..." Tweek muttered, sitting next to Clyde, but went straight up in worry as (Y/N) decided to ignore Craig's words and sat right beside him. Craig looked over at her, watching as she uncrossed her arms, huffing. He glanced at Tweek, before deciding to ask a question, not really thinking about it.

"How'd did you get those burns?" (Y/N) flinched before looking at Craig, a bit worried.

"Oh, I was in a house fire...Got out alive luckily..." (Y/N) muttered, putting her hand on her shoulder to cover the burns. After a few seconds of very awkward silence, Craig spoke up again.

"I think they look cool." (Y/N) looked over at Craig in shock, before smiling slightly.

"Really?"

"Really." (Y/N) glanced away, still smiling, before leaning on the table, thinking. Craig looks at his phone, then at Tweek, finally ready to ask the question.

"Hey, uh...Tweek? Is that your name?" (Y/N) looks over, a bit confused as Tweek perks up.

"Yes!! What? What's wrong?" Tweek asks, raising a brow. Craig glances over at (Y/N), before looking back at Tweek.

"Nothing, nothing...Just, like... I was wondering something." Craig mutters, putting hsi phone into his pocket. (Y/N) stops leaning on the table.

"W...what?" Craig glances at (Y/N) once more, then sighs.

"Are you two like demons or something?" He notices that both (Y/N) and Tweek go into panic mode, but Tweek's a bit worse, seeing that he might have a panic attack.

"A WHAT?!"

"A demon???" Clyde asks, raising a brow, then watched as Token gave Craig a shocked look.

"Whoa, Craig, just right off the bat?"

"OH GOD ARE WE BEING THAT WEIRD??? I knew it was a mistake sitting over here! No wonder everybody was looking at us weird��You must all think we're some sort of FREAKS or somethingghffhghhhfdh–" Right before Tweek could finish, the lights flickered a bit, and Clyde start to try and reassure his new friend.

"Hey, hey, Tweek, it's okay!" Clyde exclaims, smiling warmly, and gives (Y/N) a smile, but frowned when he realized she wasn't there anymore.

"Craig, look– You've scared (Y/N) off! You need to realize that both Her and Tweek are cool! They're both  a little jumpy and funny, but Tweek and I were just having a heartfelt  conversation about what kind of anime he likes to watch. Demons hate anime! Trust me bro, I know!" Clyde states, making Craig glance away in confusion.

"Uhuh... Did he contribute to this conversation at all, or did you just talk about the anime you like." Craig asks, raising a brow.

"I mean I had to warm him up, he's a little shy, but–"

Clyde was then interrupted by the lights, as they suddenly just went off. Tweek looks over and tries to find (Y/N) in the crowd, before going panicked again.

"Did the power just go out?"

"Agh! It's been storming all day, the wind probably knocked something over!!!" Tweek exclaimed, mentally cursing out his best friend who just suddenly upped and left.

"Does this mean we get to go home early?"

"How did the weather get so bad so quickly?" Craig muttered to himself, also looking around in confusion.

"Hey yeah, wasn't it supposed to just be kinda cloudy today?" Token asks, but perked up when Craig looked at him, a "seriously" look on his face.

"What, did you check the weather or something? God you're so boring Token-"

" Wow, okay, you're one to talk–"

"╬╒ ╬╬╬■ ■ ╬╬╬  ╧╧╬   ╬ ╒ ╬╬ ╬ ╬ ╧ ╧ ╬ ■ ╬ ■ ╬ ╒ ╬ ╬ " Everyone looked up at the intercom in shock, not expecting the voice to come through like that.

"Oh god what is that?! WHAT IS THAT??!!?!" Tweek panicked once more, shaking.

"It's the intercom, dude. Chill." Craig responds, glaring a bit at the male in front of him.

"Wait, how is the intercom working if the power is out?" Token asks, making everyone in his group perk up in confusion

"Maybe they have a generator?"

" If they have a back up generator, why would they turn on the intercoms first, idiot. How would they turn on only the intercoms."

"I dunno dude!" Clyde finishes the argument, but jumped when the voice came back on.

 " ╬   ■ ╬   ╒ ╬   ╬ ╒ ╬╬ ╬╬O ╬ ■ ■ ╬ ╬  ╬ ╬ ╧ ╧ ╬ ╬    ╬╬TT╬╬╬╬╬╬╬╬╬ HH╬╬╬╬╬╬╬╬ L╬╬╬ A╬╬╬╬╬╬╧ ╧ ╬ ╬"

"WHAT DO WE DO?!?!" Tweek exclaimed, standing up.

"Dude, it'll be okay. Haven't you ever been in a power outage before?"

"I DON'T KNOW!!!!H!H!HHHJHHJ!!!!!!"

"╬ ╬ ╬ T╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ AA╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ LL╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬L ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬Y ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ HH╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬O╬ !╬ !"

Craig snorts a bit, looking down at his phone.

"These guys actually think we should go and check out the rest of the school. What do they expect us to see? A fucking ghost or something?" Craig asks his group of friends, playing it off as some type of joke.

"╬     ╬     ╬     ╬     ╬   ╧╧╧╬     ╬     ╬     ╬     ╬     ╬     ╬  ╧     ╬     ╬"  

"Haven't you been going on about demons like, all day, dude?" Token asks, raising a brow at the smug looking friend, who's smile faltered a bit.

"Yeah okay but for real though-"

"I thought you were being real–"

"No shut up." Craig stated, glaring slightly at Token, who didn't look amused.

"Well... I still think it'd be a good idea to go and check what's going on? Some teacher, or someone... should have came over by now." Token tried to reason with his friend, glancing over at Tweek to keep an eye on him.

"╬ ╬   ■   ╒╬ ╬╬ ╧ ■ ╧  ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╧  ╒╒╒╒ ╬   ■ ■ ╬"

Craig groans a tiny bit, deciding to turn on the flashlight on his phone.

"I guess? Do we have to?" Craig asks finally, but got interrupted by the intercom, which seemingly got louder.

"╬ ╬╬  ■ ╬■ ╧ ╬ ■ ╬ ■ ╬ ╧ ■ ╧  ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╧ ╧ ╬ ■ ╬ ■ ╬ ╒ ╒ ╒"

"I mean, maybe we can figure out why the speakers are freaking out so much."

"And maybe we could figure out where that girl went!" Both Craig and Token looked over and finally noticed that (Y/N) was missing, and nowhere to be seen.

"Mmmmmmm...Fine..."  Craig got up and left, the entire group following right behind him. He looked around the pitch black hallway, listening as the rain poured on the school. "Okay, great, this is a shocker. Who would have guessed we'd see nothing but pitch black nothingness." Craig sarcastically said, glancing a bit at Token, who noticed and snapped back.

"It's so dark out...How bad is this storm gonna get?" Token asked, flinching a bit as thunder boomed.

"Man, I don't know. I'm not a weather channel, dude." Craig joked a bit, putting his flashlight down a bit. During that span of seconds though, two figures popped up ahead. One seemed to just be happy, while the other immediately got scared and ran away, long tail flailing behind them.

"Hey, hey Craig. If we go home early today, we should hang out at your place." Clyde suggested, looking up at his BFF.

"If it's gonna end up like last night, I'd rather not." Craig simply replied, rolling his eyes when his friend let out a "offended" gasp.

"What??? Why not, I thought it was fun!!"

"Eh-"

"I think Craig's just scared of summoning another "demon." Craig glared at Token, letting out a huff of annoyance.

"Yeah, okay, whatever you say." Clyde looked up at Tweek, noticing how nervous his new friend seemed to be.

"Oh hey, speaking of– Hey Tweek, I still don't think you're a demon or anything. I don't think (Y/N) is either! You should hang out with us more." Clyde smiled at Tweek, before an idea popped up into his head. "OH MY GOD YOU SHOULD COME OVER TO CRAIG'S WITH US TODAY."

"Okay cool I guess we're all just inviting ourselves to my house now." Craig muttered, earning a panicked look from the twitchy male.

"What!!! You guys hate me though! In fact, I should– I should just go!!" Tweek exclaimed, turning around to walk away, but stopped when Clyde reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Wait, no, dude! Where did you get that idea, bro?"

"If you're talking about Craig, he's just a weirdo. Especially today.  Don't worry, you'll get used to him. Or... he'll get used to you." Token stated, looking back and smiling warmly at Tweek, who seemed to get a bit less tense. "We can all chill and play something casual tonight."

"Literally, I never said you guys could come over." Craig stated, slightly glaring at all his new friends. Jimmy walked beside the group, noticing something in the dark.

"Yeah, but we're gonna anyways bro, so you might as well just accept it." CLyde shot back, grinning at Craig, who seemed to just get more annoyed.

"I don't like how dark and quiet everything is...! Why are we going this way again???" Tweek exclaimed once more, looking into the pitch black, but is quickly distracted by Craig.

"We never said you had to come, dude." Craig watched as Tweek glanced away, looking a bit pale.

"No I know, but...I just wanna find my friend, I want her to be safe-"

"Tally-ho there, old friends!"

Everyone froze, looking back forward. They all had nothing to say as they just stared at the person in front of them, who just continued to smile.

"Is...Is that...?" Token tried to ask, but no more words came out.

"It is indeed! Been quite a while since I've seen all of you, hasn't it!" The figure exclaimed exclaimed, stepping a few more steps forward, making Craig put his phone back up, finally showing who it was.

Pip Pirrup...

"Dude...Dude we thought you, like, died!" Clyde exclaimed, moving behind Craig out of fright.

"Yeah, like...YEARS ago..." Token finished for Clyde, taking a step back.

"And you'd be correct, ol' chaps!" Pip responded happily, making the group tense up once more.

"Wait, are you okay?"

"DUDE did you do the thing where, like, you died and someone brought you back to life like REALLY SOON AFTER and then maybe you moved away or something for a long time or like–" Clyde tried asking many questions at once, but shut up once Pip lifted a finger to quiet him down.

"Oh, no need for any concern, trust me! None of that happened, none at all. You see, a lot has happened in the years that I've been gone!" Pip chuckled a bit, closing his sky blue eyes at the memories. "I see a lot has happened for you lot as well. But for me..."

Pip opened his eyes once more, showing off his now ruby red eyes. Craig stared at the British teen in front of him, not being able to say anything, surprisingly.

"╬Yearsin hell can do a number on you, it can!╬"

"Oh, it's just so lovely to see you all! Where are all of the others? I'd love to have one great big reunion! Though it could hardly be called a reunion, now would it? I'd be the only one returning! Or, wait, no..." Pip started rambling, giggling a bit. Tweek glanced behind Pip, trying to find something but found nothing.

"There are others that would love to see you all, I'm sure of it! I'm sure they're already here, and you barely know it! Thanks to you and your curiosity, you've let open a portal from hell, right in your very own bedroom! Isn't that just splendid?" Craig went to say something, but went quiet when he noticed Pip wasn't done talking.

"Everybody who wants to come and see you simply just... can now! Oh, I'm sure you all know this already, I'm just so excited I can't stop myself from talking! And I'm sure you're excited too now, aren't you all? Oh, and you can finally apologize for all of the terrible, terrible things you've done to me as a child! And I'm here to say, my fellow friend, I would wholeheartedly accept!" Pip continued to ramble on and on, which started to annoy Craig.

"There's no need to ramble on, either. Just a simple apology I believe is in order." Pip finally finished, staring at the group hopefully. No one dared to say a word. "Don't be shy now, there's no need to hesitate!!! You and all of your friends are sorry, are you not?" Pip asked once more, only to earn more silence. "You can take your time. Or if you think I don't deserve it, that's fine too!!!  It's okay if you're not sorry.  I still forgive you. Or maybe you forgot me, too?" Pip suggested to himself, letting his smile falter just a bit, but he quickly regained his happiness.

"Don't worry about that either, old friend!  I'm used to people forgetting about me!" Pip let his feelings go straight down, but he wouldn't dare show it.  "Oh, I know this must be quite jarring, but really, everything is fine! I'm not here to hurt any of you! And that comes straight from my heart, it does. I could do so many unimaginable things to you all now, but I would never have it in my heart to do so!" Pip finished, letting the group talk for what they actually want to say.

"Okay, um, you know what, I'm gonna take some initiative here and–" Token started, but got interrupted by Clyde, who seemed very scared.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAA I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I MEAN IT I'M SORRY FOR ALL THE MEAN THINGS I DIDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!" Clyde screamed, before getting dragged away by Token and Tweek. Token turned around and grabbed Craig's hand, seeing he wasn't running either.

"Dude, Craig, do you mind actually running with us?!" Craig said nothing, still trying to take in everything. "Oh my god, dude, come on!" Token ran away with the rest of the group, not realizing they left someone behind. Token then kicked the school doors down and kept running until the school was almost out of sight.

"OH GOD I'M SO... STILL SORRY... AND... SO OUT OF... BREATH..." Clyde explained, trying to get air but could only wheeze for a bit.

"I'm just ...I... Was that even real? Did the school put something weird in our food again?" Token asked himself, looking down at the sidewalk. Craig just stared into space, trying to think while Tweek made sure Clyde was alright.

"Are– are you going to be okay, man?" Tweek asks, helping Clyde to lean back up.

"YEAH... yeah..." Clyde muttered, still wheezing a tiny bit. Tweek glances over and notices that Craig hasn't talked at all, and furrows his brows in concern.

"Is Craig okay??? What's wrong with him?????"

"I don't know, really? Sometimes he locks up under stress, but like...Never like this, you know?" Token replies, looking over at Craig, watching as he slowly looked down.

"DID HE GET POSSESSED???" Tweek exclaimed, tensing up but quickly calmed down once Token started talking once more.

"What? No, dude. He's probably just shaken up. I know I am." Token shrugged, walking over to stand beside Tweek. Craig sighed and rubbed his temples, trying not to get a headache.

"Ugh, guys, stop talking about me. I'm trying to think..." Craig muttered, not even sparing a glance at his friends.

"Dude, is right now really the best time for thinking?" Token asked, raising a brow.

"That sentence was so stupid, shut up."

"...Fair enough. Well... where should we go?" Token muttered, looking around, ignoring as the rain made his clothes soaked.

"Are we still going to Craig's house...?" Clyde asks, finally able to get air withouyt having to cough or wheeze.

"I guess we could-"

"Oh my god. We're not going to my place. Did you not hear what the guy said back there?" Craig snapped, turning around and looking at his friends in anger.

"The guy? Which guy?" Token raises a brow at Craig, who huffs in annoyance.

"You know...Pap or whatever his name was. I don't fucking know, man. I... Just shut up." Craig stated simply, turning back around.

"I didn't say anything-"

"We're going to Stark's Pond." Craig said before starting to walk off. The three friends quickly followed behind.

" In the rain, dude?"

"Yes in the rain, now stop talking to me."

"Alright, dude... alright..."

"Have you ever been to Stark's Pond, Tweek?" Clyde asks, looking up at his blonde friend, who shrugs.

"Uh... no??? I've only been here for a day." Tweek responded, glancing away.

"As well as (Y/N)?" Clyde asks once more, watching as Tweek nodded his head.

"You both started school the same day you moved here?"

"Yes?"

"Huh." Token turned back around, watching Craig carefully to make sure he was alright.

"Wait, so, your friend moved here as well? Are you, like, step-siblings or something?" Clyde asks, wanting to know more about the missing female.

"Um....Sure?"

"Oh, cool..." Clyde stated before looking forward. A couple minutes went by and it still held that awkward silence, and it annoyed Clyde TO DEATH!

"WOW! This is boring! Maybe I'll just see you guys later–" Clyde takes a couple steps back, but stops when Token speaks up.

"I dunno if right now is the best time to split up, Clyde. We all saw what happened back there." Token mumbled, glancing back at the brunette, who could only frown. The soon stopped, realizing Craig was just standing still now.

"I think I need to sit down." Craig muttered to himself, finding a stump to sit on.

"Dude, seriously, are you gonna be okay?" Thomas asked, but sighed when his question was answered with silence. "Have you ever seen Craig like this before, Clyde?"

"If you haven't, I haven't, dude." Clyde shrugged, staring at Craig's back.

"Is he sick? I don't wanna get sick on my first day here, man!" Tweek stated, taking a step back.

"No, I don't think he's sick. I think something's bothering him." Token explained, making Tweek look up at him in relief.

"Well yeah, didn't Pip say he like, summoned a portal to hell in his own bedroom or something?" Clyde asked, raising a brow at Token, who hummed.

"Dude, how could Craig have done that? He's Craig."

"Maybe... maybe he did something with the ouija board. You know how creepy it was getting last night." Token sighed as he listened to Clyde.

"Ouija boards aren't that dangerous, dude. And we were using it the right way, there's no way he could have done something like that..." Token explained, crossing his arms.

"I dunno man...We all left after things got weird..." Clyde stated, leaving Token to go silent as he rethought Clyde's words. He then looked over at Tweek, thinking.

"So... Tweek. Like... I really don't wanna make things weird on your first day..." Token trailed off, not knowing how to say what he was trying to explain.

"I MEAN!  Isn't think already kind of weird?????? Hhh?????????" Tweek asked, clutching onto his shirt.

"Yeah but, like. Okay so, earlier today Craig was all paranoid, which totally isn't like him. And he was talking about how you were a demon and of course, I thought that was stupid." token finally began, but was soon interrupted by Tweek, who had seemed to be a tiny bit angrier than before.

"It IS stupid, man!"

"Yeah man, for sure. But... After we saw... I mean... After what we saw, I'm kinda having weird conflicting thoughts." Token finishes, looking up at Tweek once more.

"Wh... what are you saying, man?" Tweek asks, glancing between the two in front of him, getting worried.

"Well...Are you?"

"Aw man, please don't be a demon, dude. You're like, really cool. Or is it okay to be a demon if you're cool? Haha h ha h I mean I wouldn't mind if you're a demon, as long as you don't, like, kill me or anything." Clyde started freaking out, leaving Token trying to calm him down, and Tweek to get even angrier.

"I'm– I'm not a demon, j-jesus christ!" Both Token and Clyde looked shocked at Tweek's outburst, but Clyde took a step back, trying to calm himself down.

"I didn't say you were, I just–"

"You obviously thought it! Why are you guys ganging up on me, I don't even know you!" Tweek exclaimed even more, watching as Token tried to calm him down now.

"We're not trying to be mean, bro! Trust me!" Clyde tried to intervene, standing beside Token once more.

"Craig's acting weird, you're new here, and we just saw a demon! Can't you see why we'd be at least a little skeptical???" Token asks, only to get even more yelling in return.

"No, man! I saw the same shit as you did, and I ran away from the same shit as you did! Don't fucking freak me out this!!! HhhgfhjfhhgjhgfhjfgjfhjhH!!!!" Tweek exclaimed, crossing his arms.

"Okay, okay, it's okay-"

While the three were yelling among themselves, Craig sat alone, realizing that his mouth was moving, but...he wasn't talking? He wasn't trying to move it?

"Why is my mouth moving...I'm not talking!" Craig muttered to himself, panicking even more.

"I just wanna make sure we're all safe, okay?" Token reassured, smiling a bit at the twitching blonde.

"I've only known you for a few hours, bro, and I already think you're cool. I wouldn't care if you were a demon, I promise!" Tweek growled at Clyde, making the shorter teen flinch back.

"WELL GOOD, CAUSE I'M NOT!!"

"Clyde, come on, I think he's had enough." Token muttered, sending Clyde a look.

"I know, I'm sorry..." Clyde apologized quietly, glancing away.

"Let's all just calm down, okay?" Token looked at Tweek, but soon noticed that he wasn't calming down.

"How can I calm down when I'm in the middle of a place I don't know, drenched in the middle of a fucking storm! AFTER THAT GUY AT SCHOOL JUST APPEARED???" Tweek yelled, stepping closer to Token.

"We can talk it out, it'll be okay!–" Token exclaimed, looking over at Clyde for help.

"Yeah man, we're in this together, right? And hypothetically, if you were a demon, not saying you are bro, it'd–" Clyde started, but shut up once he heard Craig groaning behind him.

"SHUT UP! CAN ALL OF YOU JUST SHUT UP?! JESUS CHRIST!!!" Craig yelled out, clutching to his head, earning concerned looks from the three friends behind him.

"Craig??? Dude, we weren't even talking that loud." Token stated, watching as Craig continued to clutch onto his head

"Yo man... are you gonna be okay?" Clyde asks, but was only met with silence. "Craig, bro?" Still silence. "Dawg?" Yup, even more silence. "Broseph-"

"Clyde." Token said, glaring slightly at Clyde, who flinched back, shutting up. The four didn't notice the two figures jumping from the trees and down right behind them.

"Everything is... it's... so loud..." Craig muttered to himself.

"Are you, like. Having a panic attack or s–" Token tried ask, but Craig cut him off before he could finish.

"Oh god. Oh god we're not alone. We're still not alone!" Craig started to get louder with his speech, scaring Clyde just a bit.

"You're freaking me out, dude, you're not like this." Clyde said, staring at his BFF in fear, but also concern.

"We're not alone and there's someone- No! There's TWO people right behind us!" Craig exclaimed, shaking. Token and Clyde walked over to try and calm their friend down. "Stop looking at me!"

"Dude, you're freaking out!" Token stated, standing beside Craig.

"We just wanna help..." Clyde mumbled, standing on the other side of Craig.

"If you want to help then just listen!!!!" Craig exclaimed once again, earning a sigh from Token.

"Dude, we are listening. You just keep telling us to shut up!" Token exclaimed, getting a bit angry.

"Look at you all.   Squawking and floundering about..." A British voice rang out, making the group of four freeze in place. Tweek felt someone place their hand onto his shoulder, but then felt the other stand beside him. Craig, Token, and Clyde all turned around, staring at the three before them. "You've spent all of this time stressing out over your own mistakes. And you barely even know what you did!"

"Who... Who does that sound like. I know that voice." Token muttered, staring at the two shadowy figures standing beside Tweek.

"Are we gonna get murdered...? I don't wanna die..." Clyde whimpered, taking a step back.

"Ohohoh, that's rich. You really think you're the center of all of this? You really think we're here to kill you? Well... I'm not here for that, at least. Not for you, anyway." The male figure leaned over Tweek, grinning. The female, who they still coudln't see very well due to the shadows luring over her, just stared at them with her Maroon eyes. "You've created a problem far beyond your control."

"Dude...Dude is that..." Clyde tried asking Token, but soon went silent, too scared to say anything else.

"Tweek, dear." The three humans froze as the female finally said something, now realizing who the female was.

"(Y/N)?" Token asks himself, getting into more shock. Craig just stared in fear, remembering how (Y/N)'s voice was from the night before, exactly like this.

"What are you doing?  (Y/N) came to me and said that you are you trying to befriend them?" The male asked sweetly, slightly glaring down at the twitching male.

"G... go away..." Tweek muttered, glaring at (Y/N) for tattle tailing.

"Oh...Oh, this is so cute...Is that why you came through first? You just wanted friends?" The male asked again, raising a brow, but the smile never left his face, even when Tweek tried to get them to leave.

"Well I'm sorry, some of us are here for a much greater reason." The male stated. Tweek went to say something before tensing up as (Y/N) put her hand on Tweek's other shoulder, giving a look that showed no emotion.

"It's time to stop hiding."

[cloverhighfivewritestoo]

Feline Fine - OC version

👉Read this on Ao3  Tumblr - 👉female!reader insert   👉male!reader insert (fluff only)

21k [divided in 12 chapters + epilogue]

Dean x Female!OC (Sarah) (established), Sam, other original characters (villains, victims and such).

Case fic – Dean has gone missing. While Sam and Sarah are trying to figure out what’s happened, a panther turns up on the bunker’s doorstep. Meanwhile, bodies are turning up a few towns over. There seems to be all sorts of various villains working together (or not?). What the hell is going on?

Warnings – Fluff. Smut optional : if you’re not into smut, just stop at the nice fancy border break. If you’re only into smut, well... you know where it is, now. Haha!

Extra/Prompt – This fanfic was first published in August 2018 (my first “big” fic), because @waywardbaby and @imma-winchester-addict​ were comparing Dean to a cat. Now this is the female!OC version, for @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

1. Missing

 Sarah woke up late in the morning to an empty bed. Dean had probably woken up early and had even made his side of the bed. “Awww,” Sarah thought to herself lovingly, “he’s so sweet.”

 Sarah went through her morning routine, dressed up in jeans and a t-shirt, and headed to the kitchen.

“Hey Sam, already deep in research?”

Sam didn’t look up. “Yeah, I found a probable case a few towns over. I’m getting more info.”

“Cool. It’ll be fun to kill something. I’m bored.”

Sam darted a concerned gaze at Sarah. Sarah shrugged.

 Sarah shuffled to the fridge, took out some stuff, shuffled to the toaster, waited for the toast, put some stuff on the toast, poured a cup of coffee, shuffled to the table, sat down like she weighted a ton and started chewing on her toast.

Sam had looked at her the whole time, his expression unreadable.

“What?” Sarah enquired.

“Dean’s still sleeping? It’s pretty late. Is he OK?”

“I dunno where Dean is. He was gone when I got up. You didn’t see him?”

“No…” Sam looked annoyed. “Let’s call him.” He took his phone out and dialed.

Sarah slurped her coffee. “Don’t you think it’s a bit overdramatic to call him, like, right now? I mean, it’s just 10 a.m., he’s probably gone on a food run or something.”

The phone rang and nobody picked up. It went to voicemail. Sam looked at Sarah and let out an annoyed sigh just before leaving a message. He hung up and looked at Sarah. “A food run? The fridge is full.”

“I said: Or something. Come on. The guy is a freaking menace to just about anything that’s out there. He can handle a run in town.” Sarah smirked at Sam’s very annoyed frown.

Sam went back to his computer, Sarah went back to her breakfast. They sat in silence between her chewing and slurping sounds, and Sam’s typing on the laptop.

 While Sarah was cleaning her dishes, she turned to Sam, “Hey, I’m gonna head to town as well, I need new boots. Do you need something?”

“I need Dean to come back so we can head out for this case here. I have all the info we need.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Alright. Well, I won’t be long anyway, so maybe Dean and I will be back at the same time or maybe I’ll even bump into him. I’m taking the motorcycle.”

“OK. I’ll go for a little jog then. Since I have time.”

“Be my guest.”

 Sarah got out of the bunker on the bike, passed the Impala that was parked outside in front of the bunker’s door, and…

Wait. What?

The Impala is here, that means Dean is back!

Sam got out of the bunker in jogging attire. “Hey, you’re still here?”

Sarah gestured to the car. “The Impala’s here. You saw Dean inside?”

“No…”

Sarah drove by the hood, put her hand on to feel it. “The car is cold. It must have been here the whole time. And no other car is missing from the garage.”

Sam’s gears were running. “Something’s off.”

Sarah turned off the bike and took her helmet off. They looked around. No one. She got her hand on her gun and called out. “DEAN?!!” No answer. They looked around again. Listened. Nothing.

“Call him again.”

Sam reached for his phone, and, while looking down at it while dialing, something caught his eye on the ground. He reached down and picked up “The keys. They were…”

Sam and Sarah looked at each other, panic rising in their eyes.

The call went to voicemail.

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

 Back in the bunker, Sam was trying to piece together what they knew, pacing about the room. “OK, so, when’s the last time you saw him?”

“Um… Come to think of it… I don’t remember him coming to bed last night. And I slept right through. Wait. His side of the bed was made this morning… Maybe… Maybe he didn’t come in at all.”

“Damn. So… That means, the last time you saw him is…?”

“Last night, we were all here in the library, he went out to fetch something in the car, remember?”

“Yeah, just as we were calling it a night.”

“Exactly.”

“You didn’t worry when he didn’t come back?”

“Well our training in the afternoon was a bit challenging. So I pretty much passed out.”

“Yeah… Me too. Went out like a light.”

“I’m going to look for more clues outside.” Sarah headed out, followed by Sam, who tried Dean’s phone again – to voicemail.

 The day would be busy and stressful. They’d found tracks outside that didn’t match any of the vehicles from the bunker nor the car from the pizza boy, but couldn’t deduct much from it, except the brand of tires and about 30 types of cars they could be on. They’d found footprints that didn’t match any of the footwear from the boys nor Sarah, but all they could figure out was they were from 3 different people.

 Sam had gone into town to ask around while Sarah waited at the bunker, checking whatnots on the laptop. Every call to Dean’s phone invariably went to voicemail. Nothing turned up in town, nothing turned up on the computer.

 2. Finding

 Early the following afternoon, Sam came in from driving around the countryside. He called from the top of the stairs. “Sarah? YOU HERE?”

Sarah called from the kitchen, “YEAH! HEEERE!”

Sam called again. “COME HERE YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!”

“IS IT DEAN?” Sarah called, as she ran to the stairs.

“No,” Sam said, somewhere between anxious and surprised, while she climbed the stairs, “um… just… come out with me.” He opened the door, Sarah behind him. “Just… be calm, be careful, no sudden moves.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows. “What?”

Sam made an impatient gesture. “Just… Just… Trust me on this.” He opened the door to the outside. They stepped out and stood there, right by the door, transfixed.

 A magnificent panther was lying lazily in front of the Impala. When it saw Sam and Sarah come out, it quickly sat up, curled its tail around itself and fixed its gaze upon them. It seemed it had stopped moving. It seemed it had stopped breathing.

 Sarah spoke softly to Sam, as if she didn’t want the panther to hear. “Should we call the nature rangers or what’s their name…”

Sam spoke the same way, trying to conceal his words. “Panthers are not endemic to Kansas, Sarah.”

“So…?”

“So it’s not a wild animal. It’s either from a zoo or it’s someone’s pet.” They looked at the big cat in silence, who looked back at them, going from Sam, to Sarah, and Sam. Sam added, “I don’t know… Look at it. It seems to be here for a reason… if that doesn’t sound too… weird.”

Again, some mutual staring.

Sarah whispered, “Did you notice the panther looking at me when I talk and then looking at you when you talk?”

“Yes…”

“It just did it again.”

“Yes…”

The panther took a deep breath, let it out, looked up, blinked, and fixed Sam and Sarah again.

“Did it… sigh at us?” Sam remarked.

The panther got up, paced in a circle, head low, throwing glances sideways at Sam and Sarah, then resumed its sitting position. It let out another sigh.

“It can sigh all it wants, I don’t know what to do with a panther. Maybe we should call a veterinarian,” Sarah suggested, “they’ll know what to do.”

The panther growled.

Sam and Sarah took a step back, but bumped into the wall behind them.

The panther got up, walked deliberately, slowly towards Sam and Sarah, its gaze going from one to the other. Stuck between surprise, curiosity and sheer panic, Sam and Sarah couldn’t move.

About halfway, the panther stopped dead in its tracks, eyes wide. Sam and Sarah didn’t move. The panther closed its eyes, shook its head. Sam and Sarah looked at each other sideways, and, seeing they both had no clue what was going on, quickly turned their attention back to the panther.

It was scratching the ground. It turned this way and that and seemed to have a purpose to its scratching. It took a minute or two.

It then looked at Sam and Sarah, looked to the ground, stepped back a bit, did it again, and retreated a few meters away. It layed down and looked back and forth between the scratchings and Sam and Sarah.

Sam was the first to catch on. “Um, I think we should go look at the scratches.”

“What?”

“Come on.”

“What??” But Sarah followed.

 I’m Dean, dumbasses.

Sam’s first reaction was surprise, but one look at the panther and he made an annoyed frown and a sigh in no specific direction. He then looked at Sarah.

She, on the other hand, had her mouth open in disbelief. She turned to the panther. “You… what??”

The panther looked at her and blinked. And it… purred? She turned to Sam. “Did you hear it purr?” She turned to the panther. “Are you purring?”

Sam looked at the panther. “So you’re Dean.” The panther nodded.

“OH FUCK IT NODDED.” Sarah screamed.

Sam jumped. He took Sarah by the shoulders. “Calm down! It’s DEAN.”

“But it nodded! The panther nodded!”

“Yes, because it’s Dean.”

“How can you be sure it’s Dean? Anybody could write ‘I’m Dean’. We just have to believe the cat?”

Sam couldn’t believe he just heard someone say ‘We just have to believe the cat’.

Sarah pressed on, talking too fast. “Well, a cat who knows how to write, sure, it’s weird, but we’re used to weird, so ok, I can get that, but then, the next logical thing – if we want to bother with logic – is we have to believe everything just because we accept that the cat maybe has a human inside?”

The panther growled. Sam shot a look at it and came back to Sarah. “Do you think anyone but Dean could call us dumbasses while trying to get us to help him?”

Sarah froze, thinking about what Sam said. She looked at the panther, who was lying down and looking calmly yet intensely at her. Then, suddenly, she relaxed. Sam let go of her shoulders. The panther got up and walked towards her. She waited quietly. The panther sat right in front of her and looked up.

“Dean… is it really you…”

He made a soft nod, blinked, and purred. She couldn’t help but run her hand in his fur on his head. He was so soft... He closed his eyes and pushed against her hand so she’d continue, but she stopped. “Good lord. What happened?” Dean shook his head. He let out a sigh, looking in the distance. His face became angry and he growled at the horizon.

 She looked at him. The panther – Dean – was huge. Sitting straight, his head came almost chest high with Sarah. His fur was black, his eyes green, surprisingly close to the green of his own eyes. He licked his nose and his mouth, revealing impressive fangs. He cocked his head and waited. Sarah noticed the fur was matted on his neck. She approached a hand to check, but Dean, as a reflex, moved just out of reach. “You’re hurt…” Dean kept out of reach, looking at her sideways, flattening his ears. “Come on, let me look.” He slowly got closer. She bent down a little and, very gently, touched the fur where it was matted. “OK, it doesn’t look so bad. Come inside, we’ll take care of it.”

 While Sarah was cleaning Dean’s wound, Sam was thinking out loud. “Of course, you can’t talk, but we really need to know what’s going on, cause… well, look at you.” Dean let out a huff. “Communicating with you is going to be a challenge.” Dean let out another huff.

 “Alright, all clean.” Sarah announced, putting the wet cloth away. “I can’t do more than that. It’s not like I can put a band-aid on it or anything. So it’ll have to heal on its own. It’s not that bad, really.” Dean closed his eyes and rubbed his head against Sarah, purring.

Sarah got up and went to the fridge. “I don’t know about you, Sam, but I need a drink.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Dean bounced his way to Sarah, and leaned his weight against her. “Oh dear, you must be hungry.” Dean licked his mouth and looked up. “Alright, what do you want?” Dean cut in front of Sarah and stretched his panther body up on its hind legs. He surveyed the fridge and grabbed a few things – all meat. “Duh, of course,” Sarah said, laughing. She grabbed a beer.

 3. Talking

 Sam tried to find a way to communicate with Dean. It was frustrating for both of them. Sam tried to come up with yes/no questions, but invariably diverged with more complex ones. Meanwhile, Sarah thought it was a bit funny, what with Dean having sat his panther self on a chair – like a cat would – opposite Sam at the table. Sam was actually having a conversation with a cat, or trying to, at least. Dean did the best he could to be as expressive as possible, but still, they weren’t words.

“OK, we’ll go through the creatures. Yes or no.”

Blink.

“Was it a Wendigo?”

Stare.

“Come on, we’ll be thorough, so we’ll know for sure.”

Stare.

“Dean… Wendigo?”

Eyes to the skies, shake of the head. No.

“Werewolf?”

Stare. Intense.

“Dean.”

He opened his eyes wide, made a point of looking at himself, and looked back at Sam with the same wide eyes, shaking his head once. No. Idiot. I’m a fucking cat.

“OK, I’ll go with the probably more obvious.”

Eyeroll. Repositioning. Straight, solid, ready.

“Witch?”

Teeth bared – which was more frightening than what Dean thought was a smile. A vigorous nod. Yes!

 Watching them, Sarah remembered the potion the boys had told her about when they were on a case where the only witness was a dog, allowing Dean to understand the dog. It seemed strange Sam didn’t think of it. Probably the stress. She asked Sam where their father’s journal was and went off.

 “So you escaped!”

Nod. Yes.

“They didn’t actually let you go.”

Shake. No.

“Where had they taken you?”

Nod. Yes.

“Yes???”

Eyes half closed, shoulders slumped. Idiot.

“Oh. Yeah. Um.”

Head turned to the side, sideways look. Yeah? And what now?

Sam got up. “Lemme get a map.”

Dean nodded and repositioned on the chair. Being a panther was not easy; that big four-legged body wasn’t made for chairs. Or, chairs weren’t made for big four-legged bodies. He hopped on the table and laid down.

 Sarah came back to the table with 2 glasses filled halfway with a brownish red unappetizing liquid. She snipped some fur from Dean, who perked up. He smiled as she put fur in both glasses and stirred – he remembered the foul taste of the potion.

 Sam came back with the map. He saw the glasses. “What’s this?”

“Remember when Dean had to mind-meld with a dog for a case?” She smiled a big, proud smile.

Sam’s shoulders dropped. He made the most flat expression Sarah had ever seen. “I cannot believe I forgot that.”

Sarah raised her glass. “Cheers!” They drank and said the incantation.

Dean loved watching them wince and blergh at the taste. Pussies. He had just downed it like a man.

 Dean purred, growled and looked bored until Sam and Sarah heard, “Sam likes to wax his legs. Sam has lady shampoo. Sam doesn’t watch porn cause he doesn’t understand the plot. Sam –“ “HEY!” Sam was not amused. Sarah was laughing. Dean brightened. “Oh, so the potion is working! Good.”

 “So do tell us, Dean,” said Sarah.

“I got out of the bunker and got jumped by 3 witches, all women. Couldn’t see their face. They cast some spell on me and I woke up locked in a cage, with a panther in another cage next to me. The witches cut me and the panther for some blood and did some ritual. I woke up looking at myself in the other cage… I was into the panther. So that meant the panther was in me.”

 Dean went on telling how the panther in its new body didn’t know what to make of it, and so it was thrashing about violently. Dean, on the other hand, sat still, watching his body being flung about, bruised and cut. He had listened to his voice screaming. He’d felt genuinely worried. But then the witches had come, cast a spell on Dean’s body and taken it elsewhere. They’d left Dean-in-panther alone.

 The panther body being much more stronger than a man’s, Dean-in-panther had tried its strength to its full force in trying to pry the cage open – which had worked. And thus he’d escaped. It was dark but he saw he had been kept in a shack in the woods that didn’t seem to be connected to the road. He mostly kept to the forest as much as he could on his way to the bunker. He had a vague idea of where he had been taken, and so he pointed to it on the map.

 He didn’t know what the witches’ plan was, but, while the ritual was being prepared, he had heard a name: Brandon Hatley.

 Sam drummed his fingers on the table. Everyone was deep in thought. Dean licked his paw.

Sarah looked at Dean, slightly surprised. “Um, I know you’re basically a cat, but… you feel the need to lick yourself?”

Dean’s eyes widened and he stopped his move, with his tongue still out, halfway through a lick. He looked up at Sarah, put his paw down, licked his nose and let out a low huff. He looked up at her. “You don’t? Cause when I did the mind-meld with the dog, I was acting a lot like a dog.”

Sam remembered. “It’s true. And yet… I don’t feel any feline urge.” “Me neither,” said Sarah. They turned to Dean. “Hey, don’t look at me, I don’t know.”

Sam suggested, “Maybe because his mind is not a cat’s mind… maybe because there’s the two of us on the same spell, so it kind of dilutes it… maybe…” 

“Maybe we’re just not as receptive as Dean was,” said Sarah. She added, “Sam, do you feel like a beer? Pizza? Porn?” 

Sam was confused. “No. What? No…. What?” 

“Me neither,” Sarah said, “so that means we’re not mind-melding with Dean either.” 

Sam let out a sigh. “Thanks for that.”

 4. Researching

 Sam got up, got the laptop and came back. “OK, Brandon Hatley…”

While he was typing, Sarah pulled the map to her side of the table. “Hey, Sam, where was the case you found yesterday morning?”

Sam crooked his neck and pointed to a town. Sarah and Dean looked down. “Uhn, it’s as far as where Dean was taken, but… right on the other side of us. Hmm… That’s weird.”

Dean interjected. “What? What are you saying? What case?”

Sarah just continued. “I don’t know… Seems too much of a coincidence, a case to work on in exactly the opposite direction, and about the same distance, the day Dean was taken. It’s too… clean. Too symmetrical.”

“Huh, weird indeed,” said Sam. “As for the info I gathered, the deaths were sudden. There were no previous open cases in the area or deaths that fit the pattern.”

Dean asked again. “What case?”

Sarah looked at him. “Yeah, he didn’t tell me either. Things kind of happened fast.”

Sam didn’t look up from the computer. “Something that looked like vampires. Sloppy ones. Or sloppy, just the one. We had yet to find out. OK. So now, Hatley –”

 Without any warning, Dean jumped off the table and walked towards the staircase. Sarah and Sam gave a start. “Dean!” cried Sam, “What are you doing?”

Dean stopped, turned around. “To go get the vampire! Come on!”

Sarah objected. “Dean! We have to work your case. We’re not going off on a vampire hunt right now!”

But Sam knew how Dean felt, from years of saving people. “No, Sarah, he’s right. And if it’s a lone vampire, it’s a milk run. We’ll be in and out in a flash.”

“Plus,” Dean said, “since I’m stuck in this cat for a while, I wanna try it out. It’s really strong. I hear really good. And I can see in the dark!” He sat and smiled.

“Babe,” said Sarah, “when you smile like that, you’re rather terrifying.”

“Oh, come on!”

 “And,” she added, a slight panic in her voice, “what do you mean, ‘stuck in a cat for a while’? No, no, no! How can you talk about milk runs? We have to switch Dean back! What if he’s stuck in there forever?” She was really panicking now.

Sam and Dean looked at each other blankly. Dean got up and walked over to Sarah, rubbing his head against her tummy. “Hey, sweetie, we’ll figure it out.” He looked up at her. “But we gotta save people, you know? I swear, it’s going to be real quick.”

“But… the Hatley dude… we have a lead…”

“Alright, alright,” said Sam. “Here, let me tell you what I’ve got on Hatley.” Sarah and Dean came back to the table.

 “Hatley. Interesting. The man is the owner of about half the town where the vampire case is. He owns a lot of property and he is the chair of the local industry.”

“So… he’s killing off competition?” asked Sarah.

“Doesn’t seem like it at all. For the real estate, I pulled some records: the tenant turnover is normal, no outstanding deaths – except the ones for the case – and everything seems normal tax-wise. The acquisitions were made at various times over 30 years, with more investments in the last 20. As for the local industry, there doesn’t seem to be anything fishy either.”

“And you call that interesting,” said Dean, flatly.

“Well, not the fact that nothing stands out –”

“Except the deaths. Those stand out.”

“Yeah, but it’s the guy the witches talked about, and it’s the town with the vampire deaths. That’s interesting. But I see no motive. So it might not be him behind this, or it might be something else the witches were talking about, not related to our problem.”

Dean shook his head. “With us, it’s always related.”

“Yeah.”

Sarah was thinking out loud. “OK. It’s all related… 30 years, uhn?”

“Yeah.”

“So the man is, at bare minimum, 50.”

“He’s 62.”

“Hmm… What could a 62-year-old man with fortune and power in a quiet town want with witches? And,” she said, looking at the panther, “with Dean? And how does the vampire fit in?”

Dean offered, “Maybe he pissed off the witches and they sent the vampire to piss him off.”

Sam sat back in his chair. “Witches don’t do that. They’d curse him or something.”

“Then I have no idea where the vampire comes in,” said Sarah.

“Me neither.”

They looked at Dean. He shook his head – he had no idea either.

Sam spoke up. “Well, at least we can take the opportunity to talk to Hatley while in town, so there’s that.”

They all agreed.

 It had been decided they’d go on the vampire case later, when it’ll be dark, as to not arise suspition driving around with a panther. They could at least wipe that fiend off while they figure things out. They ate, and, since they had a couple hours left before sundown, they turned in for a nap.

 Sarah got in the bedroom, followed by a nonchalant Dean. She sat on the bed, took her boots off. Dean hopped on the bed.

"What are you... You're not thinking of sleeping on the bed."

Dean cocked his head, looked around at the bed, then back at Sarah.

"Come on, you're too big. And you're going to get cat hair all over the sheets. You know how you hate that."

Dean squinted, and flopped down on the bed, his back to her. He was taking up quite a bit of space indeed – and clearly made a point of taking up all the space he could.

Sarah shook her head, got under the sheets fully dressed, tried to get comfortable.

"Deaaaan... you're really too big."

She heard jerky huffs. "Are you... laughing?"

He lifted his head “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that…” He laughed again.

"Idiot. Come on, scoot..."

“Hey, don’t tell me you don’t want a piece of this fine feline ass…” He winked. “You know this tongue is rough, I could – “

“Oh my god, Dean! No!” She slapped him – which couldn’t hurt him. “Scoot, idiot!” She pushed him – not that it made him move at all.

Dean laughed and he obliged. Sarah tossed and turned a bit and, as soon as she quieted down, noticed the soft breathing from the panther next to her. She scooted over and put an arm around him, burying her face in his fur. She fell asleep to the rhythm of Dean's feline body taking the air in and out.

 5. Hunting

 As the sun was setting, they took off in the Impala.

Sarah was driving. “I can’t believe I’m driving.”

“Haha! Enjoy! I can’t believe I’m in the back seat,” Sam said, not without sarcasm.

“Ah, that’s what you get for being a giant,” said Dean.

Sam shook his head, amused. “I can’t believe Dean managed to call shotgun.”

“What, you’re surprised?” Sarah said, laughing, while Dean bared his fangs – again, in an attempt to smile. He was lounging comfortably, taking almost all the space left on the front seat.

 En route, Sam explained how sloppy the vampire was – or the vampires were. “Look, all the deaths follow a simple pattern. It’s the first apartment from the lowest street number of all the apartment buildings Hatley owns. Then, apartment #2 from the next lowest address, and so on.”

“What do you mean, and so on? How many deaths were there?” asked Sarah.

“Yesterday morning, there was 2. Now, there’s 4. Again, a pattern. So, tonight, we should be able to stop murders 5 and 6, hopefully.”

“It’s really a milk run,” Sarah reflected.

“From the reports, it seems like a vampire attack, but we’ll have to break into the morgue first to check and make sure.”

“Yippee.”

 When they got to their destination, they headed for the morgue. Dean agreed to stay in the car while Sam and Sarah went it to check on the corpses. They came back out 10 minutes later with answers. Yes, it was a vampire, and just the one. The teeth marks were all identical.

 They headed to the next address on Sam's list of Hatley-owned apartment buildings. Sarah first passed by slowly. Everything was quiet. She turned and parked the car. The three of them surveyed the place.

"Which apartment is it?" Sarah asked.

"If it follows the pattern, it's #5."

She counted, pointing right to left and going up, "...#1, #2, #3, #4... #5 should be 3rd floor left, then."

"Right."

Three pairs of eyes fixed the dark patio door.

"Yeah... Maybe we should go inside and wait for the vamp?"

Sam grabbed the door handle. "Yep."

"Wait... What about Dean?"

Dean put a paw on his door handle. “Oh, I’m coming.”

Sam frowned. "I'm not sure if you should come, Dean."

“What?” said Dean. “You know I am stronger than you, I hear and see better than you. And…” Dean put a paw up and slowly revealed his claws. Sarah's eyes widened. "Oh shit. Wow. That's one hell of a good argument, too."

"Alright." Sarah got out and Sam let Dean out.

 Once they were in front of apartment #5, Sam put his ear to the door.

Sarah whispered, “What are you listening for?”

“If I can hear snoring or something.”

“And?”

Sam held his breath. After a moment, he let it out. “Nothing.”

Sarah turned to Dean. “And?”

Dean’s head snapped around and his ears perked up.

Sam and Sarah looked around, but there was nothing to see – or hear. They looked at Dean enquiringly. Dean turned and got on the next stair landing in two bounds. Sarah let out a “Oh, shhhhhiii-” and both her and Sam followed.

The next minute they heard the front door open and footsteps coming up.

Dean had positioned himself in front of Sam and Sarah. Crouching on the floor, shoulder blades standing out, the tip of his tail wagging, he was observing below between the stairs.

 The vampire could hear every heartbeat in the building. He could hear everyone breathing or snoring. But it was only when he’d got to the apartment door that he realized some heartbeats and breathing didn’t come from behind a door. The moment he’d whip his head around in exactly the trio’s direction, Dean rushed down the stairs and attacked.

 The vampire was as much a predator as Dean. The surprise of being attacked by a panther didn’t phase it. It clawed, hit and bit Dean, trying to pin him down to finish him. Dean struck it with a swift blow with his claws out, ripping the vampire’s flesh on its chest. He clawed at its chest and face a few more times until it was gushing blood from every wound, then pinned it down and bent to rip its neck to finish it. Sarah screamed as she and Sam ran down : “NO! DON’T BITE!!”

Dean turned to them, squinting, ears flipped back. “What?” The vampire was too damaged to have the strength to push Dean off. It was bleeding out. It still hit him feebly.

Sarah said, as Sam got his machete ready, “Don’t bite him. He’s bit you and if you drink his blood, you’ll – “

Dean’s eyes widened. He looked at the vampire and took a step back.

Sam asked Dean, “Is it too damaged to talk?” Dean shook his head. “Yeah… I think I tore into it a little too much. Sorry.” Sam sighed. And he cut its head.

 Behind a door, they heard a loud and panicked “OH MY GOD”. All three snapped their heads up, looked at each other and in the direction of either door.

Sam nodded at Sarah and Dean. “I got this.” And, a bit louder, “It’s fine. We’re FBI. We were tracking the killer responsible for the murders of the last 2 days.” He gestured at Sarah. They took their badges out, showed them towards one door, then the other.

“Is that a panther?” came from apartment #5.

Sam sighed. His brow was furrowed. “Well, um, yes. It’s trained.” Dean sat with a thud and looked at Sam his eyes half-closed. Sam continued, “We’re a very specialized branch of FBI. New methods. The panther is not dangerous to you.”

“Holy fuck! You cut that guy’s head off!!”, came from apartment #6. All three sighed.

“Look, stay inside your apartments, we’re cleaning up and leaving. You’re safe now.”

Two weak “OK” came from behind both doors.

 Back in the car, they regrouped.

Sarah started. “OK, so we have taken care of the vamp.”

“Yup,” said Dean, “and it was awesome!”

“And now we have to clean you, Dean,” she said, turning to him. He had his tongue half out, his paw stopped in mid-air. He darted a look at Sarah. “Dean, don’t lick that! The vampire blood!”

“Fuck!” He put his paw down.

“Look, Sarah, I think it takes live blood. Dried-up blood won’t turn him.”

Sarah turned to face Sam, her eyes merely slits. “You want to take the chance?”

“Um, no.”

She turned to Dean. “You?”

Dean was looking down at his paws, turning them to inspect them better. “No, of course not.”

Sarah declared, “Alright. Off to the motel.”

 6. Longing

 The night, in fact, was still young – especially since they’d had a nap earlier. It was only 11:30. Sam had taken out his tablet while Sarah was in the bathroom with Dean.

 Dean was sitting in the bathtub and Sarah, kneeling on the floor, was using the shower head to drench his paws. They were both silent and calm, looking at the streaks of blood going to the drain.

“Gimme your paw”, she said softly. She took it in her hand and sprayed water between his toes. She turned the paw, sprayed thoroughly every furry nook.

“Get your claws out.” She was talking softly, like she was telling him what she’s going to do next. She cleaned his claws.

“The other paw.” And they repeated the gestures.

“Now, your face. Chin up.” He closed his eyes. Water running down his face, his neck. She stroke his fur to make sure it got cleaned. He flinched. “Oh, the vampire bite. I’ll clean that too.” She gently ran some water on it.

“What about your belly?”

“I think it’s alright.” Dean sat up on his hind legs, balancing with a paw on the side of the tub. They both looked at his underside. Sarah ran her fingers through the fur. “No, you’re good. Let’s get you dried up then.”

 Dean stepped out of the bathtub and Sarah dried his paws with a towel. She then dried his head, his neck. With the towel still around his shoulders, she stopped and looked in his eyes. “I know you’ve been a panther only a little over 2 days, and I know I can talk to you, but I miss you. Having half of you is… it’s weird. It’s worse than when we’re apart a few days. It’s like you’re here with me, but I can’t be with you. It’s you, but it’s not.” She looked at his body. “It’s you inside, I know, but it feels… off. Like you’re far away. I miss you, the whole you. I miss your touch.” She sighed, looking at the ground. "I miss you, Dean."

Dean put his head in the crook of her neck and gave little rubs, finally resting his head heavily, eyes closed. “I’m here, sweetie pie. But I know. I miss you too.”

Sarah put her arms around him and laid her cheek on his head. “Damn you’re soft, though.”

Dean made little huffs. He was laughing. Sadness tainted Sarah's faint smile.

 7. Enquiring

 Sarah and Dean stepped out of the bathroom. Sam looked up. “Hey, I found more info on Hatley.”

“Oh? Interesting info… this time?” She looked at Dean and giggled. Dean made laughy huffs and headed to the bed, on which he lied down like a sphinx. Sarah sat on the corner of the bed, rested a hand on a paw. Dean gave a tiny lick.

Sam sighed. “Very funny.” He raised his eyebrows. “It turns out, Hatley has a wife.”

“Ohhh! What a turn of events!” More giggles and huffs.

Sam sat back. “Really?”

“Sorry,” said Sarah. “Go on. Mrs Hatley.”

“According to what I found, she owns the plant where Hatley is chair. She doesn’t sit on the committee – her husband does, but she owns the plant. Also, she owns about a third of the real estate that is in her husband’s name.”

“That doesn’t make sense. It’s in his name.”

“She’s listed as co-owner on quite a few properties.”

“Oh. Right. So… Are you saying she’s got more money than him? Is the plant worth more than his real estate share?”

“Yes.”

“OK. So we have Hatley. He is the less fortunate of the two. Murders have been perpetrated on his property. Were they his buildings only, or shared ownership ones?”

“Um…” Sam looked something up. “Ah! He is the sole owner. Hmm…”

“Maybe she’s got something to do with this.”

“But what? She’s richer than him.”

“Power?”

“What power? She owns the workforce and part of the town. I’d say she’s powerful already.”

Sarah looked aimlessly at various spots on the carpet, lost in thought. Sam read up on his tablet.

“Then there’s only one thing left,” she said. Dean and Sam looked at her, waiting for her to continue. “He cheated on her.”

“Hm, could be.”

“If it’s not money, if it’s not power, it’s sex. Or love. Either he cheated on her, or he wants a divorce or something. Either way, she’s unhappy with him and wants revenge.”

“Could be,” Sam said as he turned his tablet off. “Alright. That gives us some direction for tomorrow. Now I guess we should question them both. Which one first?”

Sarah folded her arms. “You know what? I think we do them at the same time, so they don’t know we’re also talking to the other when we see them. You do her, I do him. Maybe you could charm her into giving you info. And me charm him. Who knows?”

Sam got up. “That’s a bit twisted.”

“Thank you.”

 8. Investigating

 After a relatively good night’s sleep – Sarah cuddled against Dean, who was sleeping on top of the covers – Sam went to get some breakfast. He came back with a bit more than usual.

“That’s a big bag,” Sarah commented. Dean perked up. He hopped down and got closer. “What you got?”

“That place got breakfast wraps and sandwiches. I got a few sausage-only wraps for Dean. And since he’s…” he looked over at the panther, “pretty big, I got 4 just for him. I hope it’s enough.”

“Probably not,” Dean said, “but I’ll take it.” He licked his nose.

The food was distributed and eaten in silence – in Dean’s case, wolfed down pretty fast.

FBI suits were donned, and they left a “Don’t disturb” on the door. Nobody wants to deal with a maid walking in on a panther.

 Sam was driving. He pulled in the police station’s parking lot.

“And why are we here?”, Sarah asked.

“Cause we always hit the cops first…” Sam said, like it was standard procedure. “Plus, they might tell us where to find Mr. and Mrs Hatley if they’re not at the plant. I figure she wouldn’t be, since she doesn’t sit on the committee, so I wonder where we’d find her.”

“I don’t know… home?”

“And if she’s not?”

“What, the police doesn’t keep tabs on every civilian.”

“With all their real estate and them owning the plant, I’m pretty sure both the Hatleys know the police and vice-versa. So there might be something. Or something to learn about the vampire killings. Something.”

“Alright, then. Let’s do that.”

 In the station, they were directed to a certain Wilson. After pleasantries and showing badges, Sam took the floor.

“So, you’re the one working on the multiple murders case.”

“Yes. I’m surprised the FBI got here that fast.”

“Oh, we didn’t only get here, we got the murderer.”

“What, you caught him?”

“Right as he was about to strike again. So you can add that to your file and tell your people.”

“I’m… wow. Seriously?”

Sarah interjected. “Sir, are you questioning the FBI’s efficiency?”

“No! No, no, no… It’s just… It’s like you came in and saved the day. The FBI never does that. Well, they didn’t last time.”

Sam and Sarah frowned, and Sam went, “Last time?”

“Yes. We had 3 murders on our hands within the same week, one in town and 2 on the outskirts. Never got solved. Never got any help either. Super weird case.”

“When was that?”

“Um, about 10 years ago?”

Sam and Sarah glanced at each other in surprise.

Sam turned to Wilson. “Do you have the reports?”

“Yes, I’ll get them for you.”

 Wilson left the room. Sam and Sarah turned to each other.

Sarah whispered, “Oh my god, 10 years? A demon? What the hell?”

“That could be a completely different thing, though.”

Sarah looked at Sam with raised eyebrows, arms open in disbelief.

“No,” Sam said, “of course not. Those things always end up related.” He sighed. She sighed.

“Plus, how come you didn’t find this case? I thought you could find everything and hack in any records.”

“But I did check. There was nothing.”

 Wilson came back with a slim file. “I made you a copy. We didn’t have much, so here you are.”

Sam took the file, gave it to Sarah, who started reading while Sam continued. “Thanks a lot. Could you tell me, why wasn’t this case in the system?”

“What? It’s in the system. Everything always goes in the system. It’s procedure.” He got around his desk, sat and checked on his computer. “See, right – wait.” He typed some more. He sat back, looked at Sam in surprise. “It’s not here. I don’t get it.” He paused, staring at his screen. “I swear, I remember reviewing the file in the system. I even remember, there was one – “

Sam cut him. “Hey, it’s alright, we have a physical file, we have something we can work with, it’s OK.”

Wilson couldn’t believe what he just heard. “What, the FBI… will let this slide?”

Sarah took this one. “No, sir, the FBI will not let this… slide, as you say. You will get the file re-entered in the system. We will need it to be there when we fill the form to close the case.” Sam darted a look at Sarah.

Wilson seemed to fall back in familiar territory. “Oh, right. Yes, right on it, M’am.”

 While Sarah leafed through the file, Sam got to what they had come in for. “Before we leave, we have to ask you if you know where we could find Mr. and Mrs Hatley.”

“From Hatley Corp.?”

“Yes.”

Wilson was visibly taken aback by this request. “Um, Mr. Hatley is usually at the plant. He’s the boss there.”

“We know that.”

“Oh, OK. And Mrs Hatley… I guess she’s home? I know she’ll be at the charity dinner tonight for our Vets. She organized the whole thing. So I guess at the moment she’s home?” He looked at the clock. 9:40. “Still pretty early. I guess she’s home. Want me to call?”

“No, it’s fine. And where would that charity event take place?”

“The Community Center. We had it built for events like this, ceremonies and various activities. It’s pretty big.”

“Thanks, Wilson,” Sam said, extending his hand, “we’ll be on ou-”

 Sarah cut Sam. “Wait. Wilson, why do you say this case was weird? And why do you say they’re murders? All I see here are animal attacks. Even the photos are quite clear.” Sam leaned over to see while Wilson answered. The pictures showed bodies with clear lacerations, so many the victim quickly bled to death from the wounds. There were also bite marks on the necks. Sam and Sarah looked at each other, recognizing the type of wounds. But they wanted to hear it from Wilson.

“Because of the animal. The coroner found all three victims were attacked by a large cat. Now, cats will tackle their preys with their paws to bring them down but then they’ll break their necks. This particular breed of cat here actually crushes the skull of its preys with its fangs. But cats never shred them like this and leave them. Plus, the victims were found far enough from each other that the cat needed a faster mode of transport than just running. To me, that’s weird enough to call it murder.”

Sarah cut in. “Maybe it wasn’t the same – “

But Wilson waved a finger. “No, no. They’re all from the same animal. All the marks were measured and they matched.”

Sarah flipped a few pages. “Ah, found it. ‘…indicate a single adult black jaguar.’” Her eyes went up to Wilson. “Black jaguar?”

“Yeah, or, a panther.”

 Back in the car, Sam took his tablet out.

“Whatcha looking up?”

“Black jaguar distribution. I’m pretty sure they’re not endemic to Kansas.”

“But you knew that when you saw Dean. You told me.”

“Yeah and I do confirm. They’re not.”

Sam turned his tablet off and set it down on the seat. Both Sam and Sarah had their eyes fixed on nothing in particular on the dash. Sam blinked. “So that means…”

“Yeah. That means it’s really Dean. Well, not Dean, but the same cat.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Sam took a deep breath. He started the car. “Did they find any big cat owner? Does the file say?”

“It specifies they didn’t find any. They checked.”

“Let’s go and ask the Hatleys if they like cats, then.”

 Sam had dropped Sarah at the plant before heading to the Hatley’s domicile.

Mrs Hatley answered the door. “Yes?” She was clearly ready for her day ahead, dressed in a tailored long skirt and coat, hair neatly up in an elaborate braid at the nape of her neck. She presented a look between classic and modern.

“Sorry to disturb you at such an early hour,” Sam said, while showing his badge, “I am agent Ridgeley, I would like to ask you a few questions. It’s regarding the recent macabre events in town.”

Mrs Hatley looked at him a moment, brows furrowed. “Your name again?”

“Agent Ridgeley.” Sam suddenly remembered, he should be a bit charming, because, like Sarah said, who knows? So he relaxed his composure and made a warm smile, looking Mrs Hatley in the eyes.

Mrs Hatley made a little smile. She gestured to him. “Do come in, agent Ridgeley.”

 The house was huge. From the front, it didn’t seem so big, but, once inside, one realized the house was build to be long. They walked the hallway. Sam noticed an old wedding picture on a side table – Mr. and Mrs Hatley, surely. He didn’t have time to look at it closely, for Mrs Hatley was taking him past the living room, a staircase, and the kitchen. She picked up a mug and lead Sam out to the patio. The backyard was neatly maintained, much like an English garden. On a table, a coffee pot was resting on a heat plate, with 2 mugs – both empty – sugar, milk, and the morning paper, neatly folded.

“Would you like some coffee, agent?”

“Yes, thank you. Very kind of you.”

“Please do sit. We can’t take long, for I have to be at the Community Center as soon as possible – I’m hosting an event for our veterans tonight and there is so much to do – but let’s make the little time we have as comfortable as possible. Sugar? Milk? It’s almond milk.”

“Just a splash, please. Thanks.”

“My pleasure. Here.” She handed him his cup and sat down. “So, what is it you need to ask me?”

Sam flipped his notepad open. “We noticed that the, um, events took place in buildings owned by your husband.”

“Indeed. It is very bad for business. The tenants of those buildings want to be compensated for the trauma, or so they say. Actually, one argues the place is unsafe and wants us to lower the rent.”

“’Us’? Aren’t those buildings your husband’s?”

“Oh, sorry. Force of habit. My husband owns a number of buildings, but there are quite a few we co-own. I manage all the buildings.”

“But you own the plant.”

“Yes, but he manages it. See, we’ve learned early on each of us had specific strengths. So we invest our money and let the best of us bring the endeavour to fruition.”

Sam raised an eyebrow in approval and looked around, nodding. “It seems you’ve found the right formula and your endeavours are, indeed, fruitful.”

“Why thank you.”

“I suppose Mr. Hatley spends a lot of time outside the home, though.”

“It’s not that bad. I’m pretty busy myself, you know. And we manage to spend our nights and most of our weekends together, and book nice vacations in the south in the winter. I dare say, I think we found the formula to a fruitful marriage as well.” She laughed a little, and Sam smiled.

“So, any children?”

Her smile faded, but she didn’t seem to mind the question. “No, unfortunately.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think –“

“Oh, it’s alright.”

“So… who is going to inherit everything?” And Sam realized how gloomy this was, so he added, “You know, a long time from now, in the future?” He attempted a smile.

She laughed. “Of course. Well, it’s all going back to the community.”

“How so?”

“The apartment buildings will all become co-ops – managed by the tenants – and the plant will be given to the employees through shares.”

“There must be someone who’s not happy with this.”

“Sure, like always. But it’s what we have planned. It’s all on paper already, all the legal aspects have been addressed. So whatever happens, it’s all locked anyway.”

“I mean, what I’m looking for, here, is someone who could be your enemy, or want to do you harm. You or your… endeavours.”

“Oh!! Good question.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “To be honest, I can’t see who. I’m very sorry.”

“Someone on the plant’s committee maybe?”

“No… Shares will be divided to keep the company running as is. Everyone will keep their current jobs.”

Sam wrote a few things down. Mrs Hatley looked at her watch and gasped. “My! Agent Ridgeley, I’m so sorry, but I really must go.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. Of course.”

Mrs Hatley and Sam got up. She led him along the hallway.

Once at the front door, Sam remembered the cat thing. “Just before we leave, I have one last question.”

“Yes, but please do make it quick.”

“Between you and Mr. Hatley, you must know a lot of people.”

“Oh, almost everyone in town!”

“Do you know of anyone who is fond of, or would own a big wild cat? Or has owned one in the past?”

Mrs Hatley looked like her brain had stopped working. “A …what?”

“Big wild cat. A black jaguar, to be exact.”

She stared at Sam a moment. “A black jaguar.”

“Yes, a panther, if you will. A big one, too.”

“But… aren’t those things dangerous?”

“Very.”

“Was it a panther that killed all those poor people?”

“I am not at liberty to discuss the details of the case, I’m sorry. But the murders have been stopped. We found the guilty party and proceeded. So, do you –“

Mrs Hatley blinked rapidly. “You caught them?”

“Yes. There is nothing to fear, now. All is back to normal.”

She stared at Sam, and let out a sigh. “Oh thanks. That’s good news.” She blinked, remembered his question. “And no, I… I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone who would have a panther. Not in our apartment buildings, that’s for sure. Nor anyone else. That’s the kind of thing we’d know. I think.”

“Probably. Someone owning such a cat would probably be proud of it.”

“I suppose. And no, I don’t know anyone who has or had a panther.”

Sam wrote something down and put his notepad back in his pocket. “Thank you, Mrs Hatley. Sorry for the inconvenience. You’ve been very helpful.”

“Oh. You’re welcome.”

“Here’s my card if something comes up. Anything.”

“Ah. Thank you.”

Sam gave a nod and a smile, and left.

 Sam picked up Sarah at the plant.

“So, how was it?”

“For one thing, he’s in love with his wife, so the whole cheating slash jealousy slash revenge thing is out the window.”

“Yeah, I got that feeling too. And for the panther, I got nothing.”

“Me neither. The very question seemed to scare him.”

“Mrs Hatley was quite shaken too. She thought the panther had killed her tenants.”

“…’her tenants’? Aren’t the buildings his?”

Sam explained the couple’s arrangements and their plans for their legacy. “What did you talk about?”

“Oh, plant and business stuff. He talks like everyone is happy. It’s eerie.”

“Maybe they are.”

Sarah turned to Sam and said flatly, “We have 3 murders 10 years ago and 4 this week. Woop-tee-doo, I’m dancing with joy.”

Sam pursed his lips. “I know.”

 Sam and Sarah stopped to get some lunch and make a detour by the grocery store to get Dean a big piece of actual raw meat.

“You know, I’m used to Dean and his burgers,” Sam said, looking at the beef roast Sarah had in her hands, “but this is something else. It’s weird to think it’s Dean who is going to eat this.”

“Probably in one sitting, too.” She weighed the package in her hands. “Which is impressive.”

“I think we’ll have to look up a bit more on black jaguars to see what he needs. We can’t feed him a roast that big every meal.”

Sarah felt like she needed to protect Dean. “You should know, cats are obligate carnivores.”

Sam just sighed. “Yeah, I know that. But it’s a lot of food, even for a big cat.”

She pouted. “But he’s going to be so happy.” She lifted the roast to accentuate her statement.

Sam shook his head.

 Back at the motel, Dean was indeed happy about the meat. He chewed on it his eyes half-closed, licking his mouth and nose between each bite. Once he seemed more disposed to listening to Sam and Sarah, they brought him up to speed on their investigations.

 They gathered to throw ideas around.

A vampire was never a loner, but it was decided they wouldn’t go after its nest. Too time consuming, and the probability of the remaining vampires cooperating too low.

Going back to where Dean had been taken, try to find the witches and have them put Dean back seemed to lack some crucial info. Why did the witches switch Dean and the black jaguar in the first place? They would need to know more before they barge in. Of course, Dean favoured the barging in option, taking the witches prisoner and force them to switch him back. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t drive the car. So he was left to follow suit. Dean was not a happy kitty.

Sam turned his tablet on, trying to see if he could find something about a missing black jaguar or panther in the classifieds or anywhere, really.

 9. Knowing

 Sam was still looking up classifieds on his tablet when Sarah’s phone rang. She put it on speaker. “Agent Michael speaking.”

“Um, hi. This is Mr. Hatley from this morning.” He seemed stressed.

Sam and Sarah exchanged glances. Sarah’s tone was relaxed. “Yes, Mr. Hatley. Do you have something new for me?”

“Yes. I think we need to talk. Where can I meet you?”

Sarah gave him the address of the motel.

 There was a faint knock at the door. Dean hid in the bathroom, sitting by the door, able to see and hear but not be seen, while Sarah opened. “Mr. Hatley, please come in.”

Hatley thanked her and walked in. As she closed the door behind him, he froze in place, looking at Sam.

Sam frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Hatley blinked and looked to the ground. He looked back at Sarah. “I didn’t know you had… You’re…”

Sarah tried to fill in. “He’s my partner, yes.”

Hatley turned to Sam. “Agent…?”

“Ridgeley.”

Hatley seemed surprised.

“I know, it’s not a common name.” He glared subtly at Sarah, who had a smirk on her face. “Please, sir, have a seat. Coffee?”

Hatley sat. “Um, no, thanks.”

Sarah sat by Sam, facing Hatley. His leg was restless. His shoulders gave little jolts. He fumbled with his tie.

Sarah tried to make him comfortable. “It’s alright, you can talk to us.”

Sam added, “Even if you think it might be a bit… strange.”

Hatley turned to Sam, suddenly still and calm. He looked Sam in the eye. “I know.”

Sam and Sarah looked at each other, than Sam slowly turned to Hatley. “What do you mean, you know?”

Hatley flattened his tie, sat up, a resigned look in his eye. “Look. I came here to see if I could trick agent Michael here in telling me more about what she knows on the case and tell her the panther is in fact mine, so when she’d find it she’d tell me so I could collect it.”

Sam and Sarah sat back, eyes wide. Sarah spoke up. “Wait. The panther is yours?”

“Kind of. Yes. I mean… No, it’s not. It’s complicated.”

Sam’s brows were furrowed. He squinted. “But you said, ‘I know.’ You know… who the black jaguar belongs to? I’m lost here.”

Hatley sighed loudly. “No. Yes, but it’s not that. I know you’re not agent Ridgeley. You’re Sam Winchester.”

 Sam and Sarah almost fell off their chairs. They echoed, “What?”

“We know who you are, Mr. Winchester. We’ve been informed. We’ve seen a picture of you and your brother. We don’t know who she is,” he pointed his chin at Sarah, “but we know who you are and what you do. So yeah, I know I can tell you about strange stuff. I came to try to get the panther back. Which, by the way, we have no idea how you know about, because, as we all know, the murders in my blocks were carried out by a vampire. Which you took out. That almost went according to plan, but we’re missing a panther, so it’s a damn mess now. So fuck it. I really hope you can help us.”

Sam and Sarah stared at Hatley, mouths opened. Sam was the first to shake the surprise off. “Who informed you of who we are? What do you mean, we can help you?”

Sarah added, “Yeah, and about the panther, too. Is it yours or is it not?” She instinctively looked towards the bathroom. Dean had opened the door a little and was watching through the crack. You could only see one eye, and it was fixing intensely the back of Hatley’s head.

Hatley took a deep breath, looked at Sam. “The demon told us about you guys. That’s who.”

 Sam leaned over the table, resting on his arms. “The demon?”

Hatley folded his hands in his lap. “Yes. He wanted Dean on a silver plate, so he showed us your pictures and explained you were hunters. Getting Dean would be very hard, he said. But it was the price to pay, so we hired some witches – “

“Wait wait wait.” Sam put a hand up. “The price to pay for what? Usually, demons demand the dealer’s soul. Not other humans’. Plus, they can’t collect a soul without a contract. Dean has no contract.”

“Though you gotta admit, Dean is worth a lot for demons,” Sarah said, “so I guess they still try.”

Hatley cut in. “Yeah, that’s what the demon said. He said he could collect Dean if he wanted to. We wondered why he didn’t get him himself, but he said something about his body being guarded or something.”

Sam looked at Sarah. “Ah, the tattoo.” Sarah nodded.

“What?” Hatley was the one confused now.

Sam and Sarah undid a few buttons of their shirts and pulled at their collars. Sam explained. “It’s a warding against demon possession.”

Hatley was impressed. “I should have gotten something like that.”

“Well it depends,” Sam explained, “if you think you need to be guarded against demon possession. Do you?”

“No, actually, no.” Hatley lowered his head. “It’s hellhounds I’m worried about.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Ahhh… So that’s where you think we could help you.”

“Hopefully.”

“Boy, hellhounds… That’s a hard one. When are you due?”

“Tonight, midnight.”

Sarah looked at Sam. “That should explain the other murders. 10 years… the cat…”

Hatley just looked at Sarah under his eyebrows.

Sam crossed his arms. “Better start from the top, then. We’ll need to know everything.”

 And Hatley explained. 30 years ago, they started investing their money, but things dragged on and didn’t really go well. They met with a financial advisor who gave them tips for investing and it’s been doing great from that point on.

“Let me guess,” Sarah said, “it’s been doing really great, but your luck ran out exactly 10 years later.”

“Yes. The way he worded his advice, he’d gotten us to sell him our souls. We just didn’t believe it until we heard the hellhound coming.”

“And how did you get out of that one? Nobody ever gets out of that. No civilian, at least.”

“I killed it.”

Sam and Sarah gasped. Sam spoke. “What? How?”

“A very lucky accident. I was in the kitchen for a late snack. I heard the hellhound and grabbed my biggest knife. I ran, and tried to hide, but of course it didn’t work. When it came for me, I just defended myself and got it.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. My wife couldn’t believe it either. We were in shock. But the next moment the demon was in our kitchen, and he was furious. Long story short, we bargained with it. The new deal was we had to kill the hunters in the area and he’d grant us 10 more years.”

Sarah nodded. “Voilà! We got our 3 murders solved.”

“Yeah. How d’you know about that? We had the data erased from the system.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Well, unfortunately for you, someone remembered the case at the station. And still had a paper copy of the file. He was very happy we’d solved the current case, he hoped we could help with that old one.”

“Shit.”

Sam smiled and nodded.

Sarah perked up. “But wait. The hunters were killed by the panther, weren’t they? The very same panther you’re looking for.”

“Oh, so that’s where you learned about the panther.”

Sam made a half-smile and returned to his neutral expression just as fast.

Hatley thought about it. “Yes, it’s the same panther. At least, I think.”

Sarah pressed on. “Don’t just think. Talk.”

Hatley took a deep breath. “Well, as it turns out, we have witches in town…”

Sarah said, under her breath, “It’s a fucking freak show, this place.” Sam glared at her, but talked to Hatley. “Sorry. Carry on.”

“Yeah, I agree with her. We didn’t know about the witches, but they’d picked up on the demon and hellhound activity, and when they realized we were still alive, they showed up on our doorstep. Now, we had witches in our house asking us how we’d gotten out of the demon deal – we quickly learned that it was very valuable information – and meanwhile we had the hunter-killing problem. We had 3 days to carry out the murders. The least I could say was, we were quite overwhelmed. My wife tried to find ways to not kill the hunters, just fake it. The witches explained we couldn’t do that.”

“And the panther in all this?” Sarah’s patience was running out.

“Yes, this is where it comes into play. We… well, I made a deal with the witches. I asked them for help with the hunters murders in exchange for the information they wanted. They’re the ones who did it. Kill them, I mean. They had a panther and used it. They swapped the panther’s soul with one of the witches and got the hunters that way.”

Sarah was thinking out loud. “They must have done more than just unleash the panther. Hunters are usually good enough to get out of a panther attack. I mean, we fight vampires, werewolves, wendigos…”

Hatley’s eyes were wide. “Werewolves? And… what is a wendigo?” He looked at Sarah, then Sam, who opened his mouth to answer, but Hatley cut him. “No. I shouldn’t be surprised. And… Wendigos, I don’t want to know.”

Sam sat back. “Oh you really don’t.”

Hatley continued. “Yeah, I guess the witches used some magic, too. Makes sense, right? They got the hunters really fast, like, in the same night. But when I told them we got out of the demon deal out of luck, they were not happy.”

“I can’t wait to see how you got out of that one,” Sarah muttered.

“With a lot of money,” Hatley said, flatly.

“Like witches can’t get a lot of money by themselves,” Sarah said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well not a lot of legal money all at once,” Hatley answered, on the same tone.

Both Sam and Sarah went “Oh.”

 “So that was 10 years ago,” Sarah said, “and your problem got solved. For another 10 years. Which brings us to today. Well… this week.”

“Indeed,” Hatley said with a sigh, “but this time, the demon showed up without his hellhound. He’s the one who came to us with an offer.”

“Let me guess,” Sam said, “he wanted Dean.”

“Yes. In exchange for another 10 years.”

Sarah looked at Sam. She frowned, and turned to Hatley. “Only Dean? They usually want both Sam and Dean.”

“Well they know you boys,” Hatley said, looking at Sam. “They know if we get one, the other will go looking for him. All we needed to do was to get you where we wanted.”

“But we didn’t go to where Dean was taken.”

“Because that’s not where the witches wanted you. They said they’d rather deal with you separately, cause if you were in the same room, they’d probably all end up dead.”

Sarah smiled proudly and looked at Sam. “It’s fair.”

“So they put a spell on a vampire to do our bidding, and we arranged for some murders to catch your attention.”

Sarah’s smile quickly turned into an air of disgust. “You say that so matter-of-factly I’m going to be sick.”

Hatley pursed his lips and sighed. “But we lost the panther. The witches were supposed to be waiting for you when you go get the vampire and deal with you. But they were busy looking for the panther, so they missed you.”

“Wow, we’re lucky this organization is sloppy,” said Sarah.

Sam added, “And it’s interesting how they can locate a demon and a hellhound, but not a panther.”

“They’d hidden it magically from you guys. And their spell backfired on them, they couldn’t locate it.”

Sarah’s expression brightened. She looked at Sam. “Now, that’s hilarious.”

 But just as fast, she got serious and squinted at Hatley. “Now, all I see is that you want us to get you out of your demon deal and avoid going to hell. But you can’t give us Dean.”

“I can tell you where his body is and introduce you to the witches, maybe you can work something out.”

“Do give the address.” he did and she wrote it down. “But you seriously don’t think this is enough. We need Dean, not just his body.”

Hatley started fidgeting. “You really can’t help me? Maybe you could talk to the demon?”

“And say what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re the pros, aren’t you? Maybe you can get us out of this.”

Sam sighed. Of course, he wasn’t about to let a human be dragged to hell, whatever he may have done. Even murder. Even premeditated, cold-blooded murder. Humans were humans.

“Look. We’ll help you,” he said.

“Oh thanks! Thank you thank you thank you! …how?”

“We’ll trap and kill the demon.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes. And then, we’ll work from there to sort out the rest.”

“I have one last question,” Sarah said, “What about your wife? Is she going to cooperate?”

“She’ll cooperate if it means getting out of the whole deal. She’s stuck with me in this because of the original demon deal, but she didn’t agree to the hunters murders and she didn’t approve of the vampire killings either.”

“Oh because you do?”

“Someone has to carry the guilt.”

 Sam got up. “Alright. You’re supposed to deliver Dean to the demon tonight, right?”

“Right.”

“I suppose, at the address where his body is – and where his soul, trapped in the black jaguar, was supposed to be.”

“Right.”

“OK. We leave right now. Call Mrs Hatley, we’re picking her up.”

“What?”

“You’re coming with us.”

“Why?”

“Cause we need to protect you. We can’t do that if you’re here.”

“But isn’t it more dangerous to get us close to the demon?”

Sarah winked. “Don’t worry. We’re the pros.”

 Sam started gathering their belongings. Sarah turned and nodded at Dean to come out. He opened the door with his paw and gracefully trotted into the room.

Hatley gave a start. “AH! You have the panther?!”

Dean sat in front of Hatley, who tried to back up in his chair. Sam and Sarah looked at the scene, amused. “Why didn’t you say you had the panther?”

Sam straigtened up. “Need-to-know basis. And we’re the ones who need to know. You, on the other hand, need to stay alive. So you need to listen. To us.” Sam gave him a sideways look, waiting for him to answer. Hatley only nodded, keeping his eyes on the panther.

“Oh,” Sarah added, “and it’s not ‘the panther’. It’s Dean.” Dean slowly blinked at Hatley. Hatley nodded.

 10. Preparing

 They picked up Mrs Hatley and headed to the bunker, the Hatleys in the backseat with Sam. Mr. Hatley brought his wife up to speed on everything the best he could. After the initial shock of seeing Sam and Sarah had the panther – um, Dean – she was mostly relieved and grateful for the help getting rid of the demon problem. She assured Sam and Sarah that they never wanted to sell their souls in the first place and she’d been doing every good deed she could think of all those years in the hopes it would erase the deal and get her a place in heaven instead.

“Unfortunately, that’s not how it works,” Sam explained, “a deal is a deal. And one with a demon is, to our knowledge, pretty much unbreakable. Unless you kill the demon.”

“And you know how to do that,” Mrs Hatley enquired.

Sarah looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Yes, we do. It’s the plan.”

“I guess there’s a reason the demon wanted you.”

“Oh you bet there is. A lot of reasons.”

 Back at the bunker, they ate, and Sam checked something on the computer. “Ha. It was hard to pinpoint, but I see why the demon wanted the hunters dead.”

“Don’t they all do? Want hunters dead? As a general rule?” Mr. Hatley asked.

“Not necessarily. Hunters hunt a lot of things, and demons are really not easy to find – and, we’re the only ones I know who can kill them. So demons are not too bothered with hunters in general.”

“Except you and your brother.”

“Yeah. So,” he pointed at the screen, “get this. After you killed the hunters, demon deals went up in the area. I’ve found a few people who had good, very good fortune and died exactly 10 years after.”

“There are not that many rich people in town. What do you mean?”

“Good fortune can be a number of things, including this couple here who’d tried to get pregnant for a long time and finally had a baby. You cross the obits with the classifieds or news articles 10 years back on the same date and you start seeing correlations.”

“My, that’s… grim.”

“My guess is those hunters knew how to get rid of demons. Because there is virtually nothing that fits the pattern for a very long time before the hunters died.”

 Sarah cleaned up after everyone was done eating. “So, those witches. Do tell. Cause we’re about to head out and meet up with them.”

There wasn’t much to tell, to Sam and Sarah’s disappointment. Three women in their thirties. Or so they said. The Hatleys didn’t know if they’d be any helpful, because they seemed happy to help getting the demon’s deed done. That’s what got them rich and what would get them richer this time again. And if they lost the deal with the Hatleys, they just might turn around and cut a deal with the demon instead.

“That’s why we’re killing the demon,” Sarah said.

 Sarah laid out a plan. “OK. So we go to the address you gave me. Then… um… We stall until the demon gets there. We kill the demon. Then, the Hatleys offer a load of money to the witches so they put Dean back in his body. How’s that?”

“I’m not sure,” said Sam. “They’re already paying them to carry out the demon’s demands. It will make the witches very nervous to see us try and kill the demon.”

“OK,” Sarah continued, “Then the Hatleys give them the money upfront for their word they’re not going to hurt Dean, then the same amount after Dean is safe and sound.”

“HEY!” Mr. Hatley protested.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry? You’d rather rot in hell? Cause, you should know, you’re just postponing the inevitable with your deals.”

“No, you’re right.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Sam was pensive. “Yeah, that might work.”

Mrs Hatley was visibly nervous. “You’re really taking us with you to the witches’ place?”

Sam took his phone out. “No. The bunker is more secure, so you’ll stay here. I’ll record your offer to the witches to show them.”

 11. Saving

 The trio was back on the road in the Impala, with, again, Sam in the back and Dean by Sarah in the front.

Sarah glanced at Dean. “How are you doing? Sorry for all the human conversations, but we needed to get to the bottom of this.” “It’s fine,” Dean said, “I had time to… lick myself.” Sam and Sarah made a disgusted sound. Dean laughed.

 The place they were sent to was, of course, a house along a dirt road outside of a town. It was quite hidden in the forest, but it was in good shape. It was already dark and the porch light shone dimly down on the stairs. “Why do we always get to the places in the middle of nowhere?” Sarah reflected, as she parked the car beside an old Toyota. Sam craned his neck to take it all in. “The upside is if we have to fight, we won’t have to deal with neighbours or the police”, adding, “especially since we have a black jaguar with us.” Dean made a “what-he-said” head nod towards Sam. Sarah turned to look at Sam. “If we have to fight? IF?” Dean made a “what-she-said” head nod towards her.

 They got some things from the trunk and headed to the door. As Sarah and Sam were wondering whether they should knock, ring or just barge in, Dean’s ears perked up and he suddenly looked around, moving his ears to catch some sound. Sarah whispered, “I didn’t hear anything.” Sam just looked at her, shrugging. They all looked around.

 Without any warning sign, Dean took off. He was in the forest in an instant – you wouldn’t have heard him run, but only remembered the sound of the leaves after he’d passed, your brain mesmerized by the sheer force it took the massive cat to reach such speed so quickly and smoothly. Sam and Sarah didn’t really have time to realize what had happened when they heard some rustling of leaves, a muffled human sound, a branch snap, then nothing. Sam and Sarah tried to see in the dark in the general direction Dean had gone. “Dean!” Sam called in a loud whisper. “Dean!”

 “He’s right here,” said a woman’s voice from the forest, at normal volume. “No need to call. Oh, and thanks for the delivery.” They heard leaves rustling, branches snapping, the sounds fading as she obviously was walking away from them.

“HEY! Get back here!” Sarah called.

“I’m not that stupid, dear, so no!” the voice answered from farther.

Sam jumped in. “But we have an offer from the Hatleys! We came to talk!”

The rustling stopped. The voice came from right in front of them, a few paces from the stairs. “Sam, you have a machete. And you, whoever you are, you have a gun, probably loaded with something you invented that could hurt us. And you got more things hidden in your pockets.” They could see her in the shadow. She was fairly tall, of strong build, wearing normal jeans and a red hoodie. She had long blonde hair. Sarah had raised her gun, aiming at her, but the witch merely took the information in and turned back to Sam. “So, no, Sam. I’m not stupid. Congrats on trying to save the Hatleys, but this thing has to go down. And, need I remind you, we already have a deal with them.” Sarah aimed at the witch’s leg and shot. The sound of the gunshot resonated in the forest as the figure in front of them vanished in a wisp of smoke. “Damn astral projections.” Sarah was furious she’d lost a bullet for that.

 Sam and Sarah strained their ears to try to hear something, anything. But the forest had fallen silent again. Sam took his lockpicking kit out of his pocket. The best solution: barge in, but silently. 

Sarah protested, in a barely audible whisper. “What’s the point? She went into the forest! And Dean told us he had escaped from a kind of shack, not a proper house.” 

Sam was firm. “But this is the address the demon is going to come to. We can set traps for the demon. He’ll come after us anyway.” 

“Are you nuts? He’ll come after us after he’s done with Dean!” 

“We. Need. Clues. And this is the right address for the deal,” Sam said, as he pursed his lips and proceeded with the lockpick. He added, “unless you have a way of going in the forest silently.” He looked at his watch. “And it’s only 10:30. We have a little time still before the demon gets here.”

 They got in the house, got their flashlights on. It was a very normal house, clean and uncluttered. It felt like breaking and entering into a house where the occupants were sleeping. There was nothing special on the main floor so they went downstairs. The basement was simple and bare.

 They were about to give up on finding clues in the house when they heard a kind of breathing in a corner. Whipping their flashlights around, they only saw a big, low wooden casket. They looked at each other and listened again. Yes. Breathing, coming from inside the casket. Sam got by the lid, unlatched the lock, ready to open, Sarah in position to shoot should anything jump out. Sam lifted the lid.

 Sarah covered her mouth as she screamed. “DEAN!”

Sam just as soon put a hand in front of him to stop her from running towards the casket. “It’s not Dean! It’s not Dean! It’s his body.”

Her eyes went from Dean’s body to Sam and back again. She let her hand down as she spoke. “I know… my god… we have his body… That means it’s the panther inside. Is he tied up in some way?”

Sam looked. “Yes. His hands are tied. His feet too.”

They both looked at Dean’s sleeping body in silence, taking in the damages. Most of the exposed skin was either bruised or scratched. There was a fair amount of caked blood yet some wounds seemed fresh. Sarah couldn’t help but step closer. “My god, his hands…”

 Sam was more used to urgency than Sarah. “Look, he’s sound asleep. This is probably the best way still to contain him,” he said, as he closed and latched the lid, as Sarah looked at him in confused horror. “If we put him in the car, he’ll trash about, break the windows, and hurt himself more.”

“We can tie him down with the seatbelts.”

Sam seemed to think it was a good idea but decided against it. “We need demon traps and salt the windows. We need to protect the body from the demon coming in and taking him.”

Sarah looked at Sam blankly. “The witches can come in and take him elsewhere.”

“Well at least we won’t have to deal with the demon and the witches at the same time.” Sam took his paint spray can out. “Come on. While he’s still sleeping.”

She took her spray can out slowly, thinking. “But why don’t we draw a trap on the pavement and park the car in it with the body in it?”

Sam took a deep, impatient breath. “Because it would be too obvious. If we keep the body here and demon-proof the house, it gives us an advantage.”

Sarah looked up at Sam, a sad look in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I have not hunted for long, I’m not used to the fine details of…” She gestured vaguely.

Sam softened. “It’s alright. It was a good idea, but we need stealth. Come on.”

 After they’d done the demon-proofing, they checked on Dean’s body again. Sarah had taken some decorative cushions from the couch upstairs and fitted them around him, hoping the panther won’t hurt Dean’s body too much if it wakes up.

 “Oh, I see you’ve found the body.” Sam and Sarah whipped their head around at the voice, their flashlights on the witch. “No need for that.” She flicked the switch and the lights came on. It was the same witch as outside earlier. “Nice salting of the windows by the way. I suppose there are demon traps all over the place. Thanks for the vandalism. I’ll send you the cleaning bill.”

Sam was confused. “This is… your house?”

“Yes. Why? Had you known, you wouldn’t have spray-painted my hardwood floors?”

Sam was still confused. “What? No… I mean…”

“That’s what I thought.” She gestured to them. “Step aside.”

“No, wait,” Sam said, “I told you we can do this differently. Let me explain.”

The witch looked at the sheathed machete. “Yes, of course.” She raised an eyebrow. “I said, step aside.”

Sam put a hand up. “Please, please, hear us out.”

The witch took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Look, Sam Winchester,” she said ‘Winchester’ like it was a vile, putrid word, “you Winchester boys and us witches, we are enemies. I have no intention in making a deal with you and certainly no intention in saving your brother. It’s a good deal for us. On all fronts.” She looked him in the eye. “Now. Step. Aside.”

Neither Sam nor Sarah moved.

“Look, from the bulge in your coat pockets, I know you have brought something to protect yourselves against magic. But I am not above physical violence.” She took out a gun. She saw Sarah raise hers. “Ah, yes. So you do have bullets that can hurt me. So it’s true.”

“Yes, it’s true. Witch-killing bullets.”

 The witch sighed and lowered her gun. “Alright. You do have the advantage here. Talk, but talk fast. My sisters will be worried if I’m not back with the body soon. So you have little time before they come and, believe me, us three together? Your little charms won’t hold.” A flash of panic went through Sam and Sarah.

 Sam showed the witch the video from the Hatleys.

“Not good enough,” she said, as Sam was putting his phone back in his pocket.

“What?” said Sam, in surprise.

“Look,” the witch explained, “you’re an intelligent man – otherwise, we wouldn’t have so much trouble with you Winchesters – so understand this. The Hatleys are stupid. They got themselves in trouble and they’re paying us very big money to help them meet the demon’s demands. So we plan on cashing in every 10 years. The deal they offer here is final. We prefer long-term partnerships. Plus, bonus, you Winchesters will finally be out of the picture.” She smiled, confident, proud, and her eyes became unfocused, savouring the future.

 “What you fail to see,” Sarah interjected, “is that after the demon has delivered Dean and Sam to hell, he’ll have no use for the Hatleys. He’ll collect their souls next time their number comes up. So this deal here? It’s double what you would have should you carry out the initial plan.”

 The conversation was cut short by the noise of people entering the house and running downstairs. Two women appeared, out of breath. They were of similar build and attire as the blonde one, but they had light brown hair. They stopped short at the bottom of the stairs, looking at Sam and Sarah.

 Sam and Sarah knew their time was up. Sam put his hands in the air and Sarah put her gun back in her belt and did the same. Sam broke the silence. “Hi… um… We were just talking.”

The blonde witch turned to her twin sisters. “They have witch-killing bullets. I agreed to listen.” She turned to Sam and Sarah. “You wait here. We’ll be back. And don’t try to escape. We took care of the exits.” She went upstairs and out with her sisters.

The witches came back after a while. The blonde talked. “OK, Sam Winchester. As much as I hate to see you boys live, we’ve decided the new deal is better.” Sam and Sarah let out a relieved sigh. “But,” she continued, “you get to deal with the demon first. And alone. We’re not getting our hands dirty. If you survive the demon, fine. Otherwise, we go back to the original plan.”

Sam let out an annoyed sigh. “You’re not going to help? At all?”

The three sisters shook their heads. The blonde one added, “The demon will be here shortly. He will be coming to the shack in the back, where we keep the actual Dean.”

 At that moment, they heard bumping and muffled screaming from the casket. The blonde witch nodded to her sisters, who went and took care of it. They opened the casket, said some incantation, and closed it. The room was quiet again.

Sarah asked, a tone of sadness in her voice, “Does he wake up often like this?”

The blonde witch answered, “Every 3 to 4 hours. Spells don’t take hold as well on hybrids. The body can be put to sleep, but the incantation doesn’t work as well on the soul if it’s not its body. So it fights back and we have to redo the spell every so often.”

 **

Dean opened his eyes. The charm had worn off. Again in a cage. Dammit! He saw the other cage, empty. Dammit! He leaned against the sides of his cage. Hmmm… seems more solid than last time. He sniffed the air. The human presences had not been gone long. He had time, but surely only little time. And so he started slamming against the cage, not caring for the pain. At any rate, this wasn’t his body. He didn’t care if he broke it beyond repair.

 **

The witch gestured to her sisters. “Come on, let’s bring the body to the shack.” She turned to Sam and Sarah. “You, follow us. We’ll leave you with Dean and his body, and the demon. We’ll wait in the house.”

Sarah protested, “What, you’ll leave all of Dean within the demon’s reach? What kind of deal is this?”

“And here I thought you were good hunters. Well, good luck. Come on, now.”

 **

Dean heard, in the distance, a patio door opening and closing. He gave a last blow to the cage and assessed the damages. The cage was looser. Maybe with a blow or two, it would give. His shoulders hurt badly but he didn’t care. He might even have a broken rib, but he didn’t care. He found a way to hide the blood on the floor as he laid down to fake sleeping.

 “No need, Dean. I know you’re awake,” said a male voice. Dean managed to stay still. The voice said, “Doesn’t matter. Let me introduce myself. My name is Brentley, demon, and I’m here to collect you.” Dean opened an eye and saw the demon looking around. “Where is your body? I need both parts. You know,” and he looked at Dean, “to ensure you don’t come back this time.” Dean stayed lying down, trying to look pitiful in the cage. “I know I’m a little early – I said I’d be here at midnight – but seriously, where is the rest? Your body, the witches, the Hatleys…” Brentley put his hands in his pockets, turned to Dean. “Ah, doesn’t matter! Tonight, I get souls. If it’s not yours, it’ll be the Hatleys’. Today’s a good day for business.” He took one hand out and patted the air beside him. Dean heard a low growl. His eyes widened and he backed up in a flash, cowering against the cage. Oh, fuck.

 The door opened. “Ah!”, said Brentley. In came the twins with Dean’s body levitating between them. “Finally!”, said Brentley. The twins stopped in surprise, but continued into the shack. Then Sam and Sarah came in. “What??”, said Brentley.

The blonde witch answered him, as she came in, “We found them at the house. Stupid Winchesters, always with their noses in other people’s business. Couldn’t leave them there, so we brought them.”

Brentley pointed at Sarah. “She’s a Winchester?”

The blonde witch answered, “Don’t know, don’t care.”

“Me neither, quite frankly,” Brentley said, as he gestured circles in the air. “Tie them up!”

 In the commotion of handling Sarah to tie her up – she was not giving in – Dean caught Sam’s eye. He warned him, “there’s a hellhound by the demon’s side.” But Sam looked confused. Dean repeated. Sam looked a bit panicked. Shit, the spell had worn off. Dean changed tactics. He made a head nod in the witches’ direction, trying to ask Sam if the deal with the Hatleys had gone down. Sam nodded and tapped his phone in his pocket to tell Dean he’d shown them the video. Somehow the brothers understood each other. Dean then looked around and understood what he had to do. And fast.

 He stepped back and slammed against the cage, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and stare at him. The cage hadn’t given. He went at it again, and the cage broke, with Dean rolling awkwardly on the floor. He got up, stood to his full height, then, bracing himself, he bent his head down, flattened his ears, closed his eyes until their were slits, focusing on the demon, looking him in the eye, bared his fangs and growled.

 But Brentley was not having it. He patted the air beside him. “Get him girl!”

That’s exactly what Dean wanted. Everyone looked horrified – Sam even more so, knowing full well what a hellhound is – as Dean fell to the ground under the most vicious yet invisible creature from hell. Sam took out his machete in the hopes of helping Dean, but the fight was moving too fast. Dog and cat growls tore through the night, and Dean suddenly flew this way and that, and started bleeding from a paw, his neck, his side. One could see his skin being stretched and torn and yet Dean, with the agility his panther body provided him, and his resilience, and his lack of care for pain and broken bones, sent black spurts of blood everywhere. He scratched at the air, bounced away, pounced back, bit the air. More black blood spurted, until Dean seemed to get his paws around something – the hellhound’s neck? – pin the invisible creature down, and tear at it once more. A pool of black blood is all that could be seen. Dean stepped back and looked the demon in the eye again, growling.

 Brentley was visibly in shock. And angry. He was looking at his dead hellhound and grinding his teeth as he looked at Dean. Sam looked at the twins holding Sarah. The twins and Sarah showed Sam Sarah was not tied up. Sam mouthed “water” to Sarah, who lightened up. She reached for the bottle in her jacket and, before the demon had time to form his next thought, splashed him. As the demon was screaming and writhing in pain, the witches nodded at each other. They chanted fast and the blonde witch, with her finger pointing to the ground, etched a demon trap in the floor. Dean bounced around the demon and pushed him inside.

 Brentley regained his composure and saw the trap. “Ah, fuck! Really?” He looked at the witches. “What the hell is going on?”

The blonde one answered, “The Hatleys gave us a better deal. You’re out.” She nodded at Sam.

Sam took out his demon knife – but had a moment of hesitation, knowing that if he stepped into the demon trap, the demon would take him. Dean caught Sam’s hesitation and jumped the demon from behind, pinning him face down to the ground. Sam understood Dean’s intention the moment he moved a muscle, so he was on the demon the instant he hit the ground and stabbed him, sending yellow sparks about.

 12. Homecoming

 The Hatleys had transferred all the promised money and were told they could go home.

 The witches made Sam promise to not go after them. Sam made them promise to not kill anyone. Dean was put back into his own body, only to find it in pretty bad shape. Not as much as he had left the panther’s, but he was very bruised and bloody. His hands hurt a lot. But… he didn’t care. He’d had much worse.

 On the ride back to the bunker, Sam was driving. Dean and Sarah were in the back, silent, numb, leaning on each other. “I think it’s my first real big big hunt with an actual big dangerous fight. I’m more spent than I thought I’d be. I didn’t even do much,” said Sarah, half to herself.

Sam looked at her in the rearview mirror, “It’s normal. It’s the nerves. With more hunts you’ll be able to understand situations better, and it’ll be easier.”

“You don’t get nervous anymore?”

“No, I still do. Danger is danger. But it’s different.”

Dean joined in the conversation. “It’s like anything else. It takes practice. When you know what to do, it’s different. The stress comes from the execution of the task, not from trying to choose what to do. You’ll get there.” He looked at her and his smile was tired, yet fond.

  The rest of the ride home was quiet. Dean had dozed off on Sarah’s shoulder. Sarah was relaxing, the low rumble of the Impala almost putting her to sleep. The street lights were coming at regular intervals. She gave the softest kiss on Dean’s cheek. He didn’t wake up.

Back at the bunker, everyone sleepily shuffled to their room, wishing each other goodnight. By then, it must have been 1 a.m.

 But Dean was too wounded and bloodied to go straight to bed. Sarah took their bathrobes from the bedroom, and brought a chair in the bathroom. “Strip, babe, I’m gonna help you clean up.”

Dean didn’t say a word, he simply slowly and painfully took his clothes off, starting with his shirts. She helped him with his boots. He finally sat there in his undies, slouched a bit. She slowly and gently cleaned off the blood, slowing down when Dean winced. “Are you bruised… everywhere?”

“It feels like it. But I don’t think so.”

“I’m sorry babe.”

“It’s alright. It feels good, what you’re doing.” His tired green eyes slowly blinked as he smiled softly. He sat up and reached for a kiss.

 After cleaning Dean up from the blood, they both hopped in the shower. Dean’s shoulders were hurting quite a bit, so Sarah helped him wash his hair. As he stood tall and moved his head to rinse, it hit her. Dean had been a panther for a few days. She’d missed him. And now he’s here, all of him. They won the fight. She didn’t lose him. It overwhelmed her. She wrapped her arms around Dean, her face against his chest, water running down their bodies. Dean leaned down a bit to rest his cheek against her forehead and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s alright, sweetie, I’m here,” he said. She looked up at him. She couldn’t help but get lost in his green eyes. She got on her tippy toes and kissed him gently. He leaned down and pressed his lips harder. It sent a spark through her. Soon they were kissing hard and strong, their tongues searching and finding each other.

 “Ouch!” Dean winced.

Sarah stepped back. “Oh I’m sorry babe… what did I do?”

“Nothing… It’s my ribs… I think one or two might be badly bruised. And…” He moved his shoulders and winced. “Anyway. Don’t worry. Come back here. You make me forget the pain.”

“Actually, I think we should move our… activities to bed. You’re bruised enough as it is.”

“Good call,” he laughed lightly, “shower sex is complicated enough as it is, no need to make it worse.”

 They got out of the shower, Sarah put a few bandages on Dean’s wounds, and they went to their bedroom. They slipped into the sheets naked and cuddled close. They laid there, her on her left side, her nose smooched against his jaw, him on his back, his arms around her. They stayed quiet for a moment, the little lamp on the bedside table still on. Their eyes were closed, their breathing slow.

 Sarah took a deeper breath. “Mmm… Are you still up for it or are you too comfy?”

She felt Dean’s jaw muscles move – he was smiling.

He took her hand in his and said in a low voice, “That kiss in the shower… I missed those.” And he moved her hand down until she could feel he was still under the kiss’ influence.

She smiled. “Mmm… hello there, Mr. Dean.” She stroked him softly, which only made him want more. “I’m so tired,” she said, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Dean laughed, “if that is so, you’ll have to stop, cause I sure am not going to be able to sleep if you keep it up.”

She laughed. She stopped.

Dean shifted his body to face her a little.

She looked up at him and he made a pouty face.

She laughed. He laughed. He gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead.

 She propped herself on her elbow and looked at Dean fondly. She ran her fingers in his hair, along his scruffy jaw, brushed his lips with her thumb. “Kiss me, babe, kiss me as much as you missed me. For sure, that’ll wake me up.”

Dean smiled softly and got lost in her eyes. He pulled her closer as he shifted his body so they’d be facing each other. He put a strand of her wet hair behind her ear. He looked at her face, kissed her nose, kissed her cheek. He rubbed his nose against hers, eyes closed, his lips barely brushing hers.

“You’re killing me, Dean Winchester,” she whispered, smiling. He smiled and kissed her very gently. She kissed him back, pecking at his lips, biting his bottom lip. He kissed her harder, tasting her, taking her, a devouring desire building inside him.

 He pulled her closer still. She felt the movement of his hips, pressing himself against her. He was big and hard. It sent electricity through her. She broke the kiss for some air while she wrapped her leg around him, pressing herself against him, moving her hips to stroke him. He kissed her neck and moaned softly; she was slick and it almost tickled more than it put actual pressure on him. It made his head spin. She tried to put more pressure but it wasn’t enough, far from it. It made her head spin.

 “How are your ribs?”

“Forget about my ribs.”

She smiled. She moved her hips to feel his length again. “And your shoulders?”

He buried his face in her neck. “Fuck…”

“Get on your back. I’m riding you. Right now.”

 She straddled him, but she laid down on him, kissing him, keeping her skin in contact with his skin, stroking him, her hips moving back and forth, putting more pressure. His hands on her waist, he tried to help her with the rhythm, although he was more gripping her than helping her. “God, sweetie, Goddd…”

 His breath was fast. He pushed her up a little, so he could look at her beauty. She sat up and smiled at him. He moved his hands slowly from her waist to her breasts. They were so soft… He gripped her butt and helped himself up to kiss her breasts – but his shoulders were on fire. He fell back down.

 “Let me get closer to you,” she said, as she bent down. He played with her nipples with his tongue, took a mouthful in a big kiss. He played with the other breast, pinching her nipple then licking it, and sucking it. She rotated her hips on him. He let out a high-pitched sound and buried his face in her breasts. She heard his muffled voice, “Good God, baby, ride me, please ride me…” He looked up at her. She got lost again. Damn those eyes, so green… Damn those eyelashes, so luscious and beautiful… Damn those lips, deep red, puffed from the kissing…

 She licked and kissed his neck as she positioned herself to take him in. Dean helped her, looking at her, a relaxed yet expectant look on his face, his eyes dark with lust. She slowly slid him in, taking the time to feel him completely, moving her hips slightly to get the right angle. He gripped her as he closed his eyes, taking a long breath in. She started to move up, but he opened his eyes, a little mischievous look in them. “Wait… stay there.”

 “What?” She was confused. And ready to ride. What?

“Don’t move,” he said, as he licked his thumb.

She realized what he had in mind. “Oh please, just let me ri-“

“No, no. And put your hands on your thighs and leave them there.”

She couldn’t help but smile when she protested, “You fucking bast- OOOOHH…”

He had not waited for her to finish what she was saying. He was rubbing her very lightly, and tickling her with her wetness.

She gripped her own thighs. “HOLY F-“

“SSsshh! You’ll wake Sam!” But he didn’t stop. He stroke lightly up and down all the way to himself, almost making a point of avoiding her clit or brushing it only slightly. She looked at him wide-eyed and made little high-pitched sounds. He put a little more pressure around her clit, brushing it as he passed over it. He could already feel her clench around him. He loved watching her breasts move as she breathed. He cupped one. So soft…

 But the clenching was building rapidly and he closed his eyes as he kept stroking her, now with both his thumbs, one keeping her clit well exposed and the other working on her. She tried to move her hips forward to get more pressure from his fingers, but he kept her in place. Soon he heard her moan as he heard himself moan and felt her legs trying to close at his sides as she was mercilessly exposed. He felt her coming around him, clenching hard in waves, sending him higher. Their hips jerked and they tried to get even deeper as they were losing all sense of self, their blood rushing so hard they were dizzy.

 At some point Dean realized he was hearing Sarah breathe deep but more slowly. He opened his eyes. She opened hers. They smiled at each other.

She bent down and kissed him. “You little jerk,” she said, laughing, as she kissed him again.

He smiled and laughed. “I’m a lazy jerk. We barely moved, hah! How about that!” He flashed a proud smile.

She smiled back at him. “Babe, you’re the best.”

“Ah, yes.” He kissed her, pulled her into him, replaced the sheets over them, and soon, in each other’s arms, their breathing slowed and they fell asleep.

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[beesartandstuffs]

Shot in the Dark: Interim- Chapter 4

(oh, did I say the next few days? It’s today :3

Also, please not that while this chapter is written in second person, it is not a reader-insert.

Don’t forget to LIKE, COMMENT and REBLOG!!!)

SHOT IN THE DARK MASTERLIST (find more stories here!)

~~~

It would be easy to say that your life goal has been very simple: Reunite with your parents and live the rest of your lives in peace. That's all you wanted, at first. That's the only thing that made sense.

Well, besides the fact that your mother was dead. For some reason, that never really deterred you. 

You remember the look on your uncle's face when you first said you wanted to see her. In retrospect, you feel bad. The lines on his forehead had deepened and he was speechless for a moment as you waited expectantly.

"Your… you can't see your mother anymore, Liam," he had said to you, as gently as he could. His eyes were misty but resolute. "We buried her in November, remember? Did you want to visit her graveside?"

You had shaken your head. No, you wanted to talk to her in person. You had questions that only she could answer. Uncle Damien hadn't been able to say anything else and Aunt Emma had spoken up. "Maybe we can talk about this when you're older, dear."

You were a reasonable child. You waited until about five years later, a week after your tenth birthday, to bring it up again. (You had waited a week in order to avoid interrupting the festivities.)

"I want to talk to my mom and dad," you had said, in the most grown-up tone you could muster.

Emma and Damien had exchanged glances.

Damien left to make a phone call.

All three of you woke up with bloody noses that night. 

~

Col. William was in a good mood when you sat across from him at the big metal table in the big cold room. A guard in a uniform stood nearby, but the Colonel was handcuffed. You weren't afraid of him, anyway. 

“Hello, Dad,” you said in a friendly tone. You sat politely in the big chair, your feet dangling several inches from the ground, with your hands in your lap.

He didn't look up from his notebook for a while, but when he did, he looked surprised. "Well, good morning, my boy," he said kindly, even though it was early afternoon. "My name is William J. Barnum, but you may call me Colonel. I'd shake your hand, but…" He gestured with the handcuffs on his wrists. You smiled slightly, and he continued. "What brings a young lad like you to a place like this?"

So he'd forgotten already. Emma had warned you he would. "My name is Liam," you said patiently. "You forgot me, but I'm your son."

"Son?" He shook his head, laughing. "Oh, I can't have a son. Celine would never allow that to happen. Her husband is quite the unpredictable man, you know."

Celine. Your mother. You grasped onto that, leaning forward. "What was Celine like, Colonel?"

He paused and tilted his head. "Celine is… strong. Stubborn, but brilliant, vivacious, enrapturing…" A sigh escaped his lips and he smiled dreamily. "My first love. My only love, truly."

Quickly, before you thought to lose your nerve, you asked, "Was she a witch?"

"Heavens no!" You were thankful that the Colonel laughed, instead of being offended. "Goodness, where could you get an idea like that? Ah, wagging tongues, most likely. Most unfortunate." Shaking his head, he looked down at his journal and laughed to himself. "No, she was not a witch, my boy. She was fascinated with the supernatural, had been since she was but a slip of a girl. I never discouraged her, but… I'll admit I did worry." He shook his head again, his smile fading. "But she was always quite a bit smarter than I, so I didn't question her. I assumed she knew what she was getting into." 

Suddenly, he frowned, and looked up at you. The sharp gaze of his dark eyes was sad but incredibly intelligent. "... How could this be?" he asked softly. "She told me she gave you up."

It took you a moment to realize that he knew who you were. "She did. Uncle Abe found me and took me to Emma and Damien."

He nodded, not seeming surprised. "Honest Abe… so he did hear me," he murmured. "You're a fortunate boy. Damien's probably a better father than I could ever be."

You never even tried, you thought you might like to say. But you didn't, because your father was here and he recognized you and you could be a family now.

"They'll raise you to be a good man," he continued, and your heart dropped. "I'm not getting out of here any time soon, so I hope you visit me again. It'll be a nice change from only seeing Abe every few months."

"But—" This isn't how it's supposed to go. You found him, he knows you. He's supposed to take care of you. "Why can't I stay with you?"

He smiled, and this one was sadder than ever. "Prison isn't a good place to raise a growing boy, I'm afraid. Besides, I'm…" He looked down at his journal. "I forgot again, didn't I? I remembered the wrong things."

"I remember wrong things too!" you insisted, but he shook his head gently at you, not looking up.

"Not like this. Like this, I'd… I couldn't do right by you. Emma and Damien are good people, they aren't… like me."

"What's wrong with you?" you demanded, hurt and scared and naive.

He didn't answer then, so you asked again. But he didn't say anything even when the guard came to pull you out. You weren't sure why the guard had come until you felt moisture on your face and your throat was sore, and you realized you'd been crying, which had escalated into screaming, and you didn't know how to stop.

The guard passed you off to the warden, nursing a bloody nose, and you didn't remember hitting him but you were sorry, and you tried to apologize but the only noises you could make were sobs and cries like a wounded animal’s.

Uncle Abe was waiting for you in the front office. You couldn't stand the look on his face when he saw your state, so you turned your face away, allowing yourself to be handed off like a limp marionette and burying your face in his shoulder.

He didn't say anything to you as he buckled you into his cruiser, but he did squeeze your shoulder. You guessed that that was his attempt at comforting you, so you decided to appreciate it.

The warden came out to the car, then, and Abe shut the door to talk to him in relative private. After a subdued but tense conversation, the warden handed Abe a package, which he tucked into his jacket.

He didn't say anything at all until he asked if you wanted to get some ice cream, to which you nodded miserably.

He let you choose a park bench to enjoy your treats. You always got chocolate with liberal amounts of sprinkles, and he indulged in a simple scoop of strawberry.

The park bench was too tall for you, but you were a bit small for your age. You didn't mind getting to swing your legs, and it's hard to cry when you're eating ice cream, because the salt doesn't taste very good, so you were starting to feel better.

Abe passed his cone to one hand and reached over with the other to ruffle your wild black hair. "Didn't go how you expected, huh?"

Wordlessly, you shook your head. 

"That's okay, kid. Nothing can really prepare you for that." His hand fell back to his lap, and you contemplated his statement.

"What's wrong with… with William?" you asked finally, having decided not to call him by either "Colonel" or "Father", for he was neither your friend nor a paternal figure. He had forfeited that right.

Abe sighed, took off his hat and ran his hand over the fuzz on his head. "He's… well, I dunno for sure, kid. He's not all there, yknow? Forgets things. Remembers things wrong. Thinks things are true that aren't. Stuff like that."

"I do that too," you point out, because it's true. Just the night before you had woken up thinking you had a dog, and Damien had had to keep you from going out in the cold to find her because she had "gotten lost in the golf greens".

It still felt like you had a dog, but there was no dog there, so you'd decided to believe Damien.

Abe knew you weren't lying. He simply searched your face, nodding thoughtfully, and finished his ice cream with a pensive scowl. As you both crunched on your cones, he spoke up again. "Liam, there's something the Colonel wants you to have."

You immediately abandoned your determination to forget William ever existed. "A present? For me?"

A small grin crossed his face as he reached into his coat and pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. You reached for it instinctively, then remembered yourself and placed your hands back in your lap, waiting for him to speak.

Taking note of your rarely-seen excitement, Abe passed the package to you. "I think there's a note inside, but it might be hard for you to re—"

Before he could even finish speaking, you'd already torn the string and paper off and were reading the handwritten note tucked inside the cover of a small, plain, blank notebook.

The note was written in elegant but firm script. Some of the words were crossed out and rewritten, and you noticed that most of them were when he referred to things in the present when really they were in the past— a mistake you'd been known to make as well.

My Dear Son William Jr.,

I hasten to write this while I still have my mind. It comes and goes these days, and I fear that you may be predisposed to the same problems. Hence, this little gift.

My boy, sometimes the world will not make sense to you. Sometimes, you may forget things, or remember something that didn't really happen. In times like that, it may be helpful to have something you can look back on, something that you know is correct and unchangeable. 

The written word is a powerful thing, my boy, and I pray that someday you realize just how true that statement is. 

This journal is a tool, my dear son, to help you keep your mind in order. Everything you experience, every thought you have, write it down in this little book. It may feel silly at first, but I promise you, the minute you remember something that no-one else does, you can look back in this book and find the truth.

I hope you find it useful.

All my love,

The Colonel

~~~

~~

~

Tag list: @mayor-damien-protection-squad​@markired​@blackaquokat​@pleaseletthisjimbetaken​@gravitykaz​@jojored22​@neverisadork​@withjust-a-bite​ @gmcfyuffins​ @satansladydoor​ (If I’ve tagged you and you don’t want to be tagged, please tell me! Inversely, if you would like to be tagged in these, don’t be afraid to ask!)

[writingfromkitchenator]

800 Followers Challenge!

So, it’s a little belated, but here we go!

This is honour of my love for the 80′s, despite being a 90′s baby. XD

I will only be accepting 32 requests for this challenge, which will be 8 requests per fandom.  Marvel, Supernatural, The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit.

The rules are very simple.  Pick an 80′s movie quote below and then give me 80′s song to base a story around!  Each quote will only be used once so I will update accordingly as they get filled up so as you can see where we sit.

I will leave it open for 8 days (seeing the pattern yet? Ending Jan 29th) or until the requests are filled if they go first.

So please, request away (be mindful of not spamming me with one character please) and  have a bit of fun with it.

80′s Movie quotes 1.    Life moves pretty fast.  If you don’t stop and look around once in a  while, you could miss it. - Haldir; With or Without You 2.    We came.  We  saw.  We kicked its ass. - Fili; In the Army Now 3.    I’ll be back. - Eomer; Holding Out For A Hero 4.    If he gets up, we’ll all get up.  It’ll be anarchy. 5.    We’re all bizarre, some of us are just better at  hiding it that’s all. - Thorin; Kiss the Girl 6.    Sometimes you gotta say, ‘What the fuck?’. 7.    I know you are but what am I? - Sam; Hallelujah 8.    Kill your brother.  You’ll feel better. - Fili; Sledgehammer 9.    I am not an animal!  I am a human being! - Sam; Life is Real (Song for Lennon) 10. Don’t you understand?  When you give up your dream, you die. - Eomer; Pictures of You 11. You have chosen wisely. - Dwalin; Hurts So Good 12. Did IQs just drop sharply while I was away? 13. You lose it here, you're in a world of hurt. 14. I just don't know that I believe in everything you believe in. But I believe in you. - Dean; Crazy Little Thing Called Love 15. That’s why they call them crushes.  If they were easy, they’d call ‘em something  else. - Castiel; Sweet Child of Mine 16. You are evil, and you must be destroyed. 17. Sometimes dead is better. 18. You don't have time to think up there. If you  think, you're dead. 19. Once you enter this door, there's not going back! - Crowley; Hungry Eyes 20. No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas  can change the world. - Thorin; True Colours 21. If I can move and I can talk, who's to say I can't  do anything I want? - Loki; Don’t You Forget About Me 22. I’ve never seen a human this close before. - Crowley; Pour Some Sugar on Me 23. Life's a bitch, and she's in heat. 24. I'm too old for this shit. 25. I just want to go somewhere where nobody knows who  I am. - Eomer; If I Could Turn Back Time 26. I've done...questionable things... - Castiel; Who Wants to Live Forever 27. I am going to count to three. There will not be a  four. - Nori; Talk Dirty to Me 28. I dunno what the hell's in there, but it's weird  and pissed off, whatever it is. - Dwalin; Another One Bites the Dust 29. Life isn't fair, it's just fairer than death,  that's all. - Sam; I Dreamed a Dream 30. Some day you're gonna be wrong, I just hope I'm  there to see it. - Thorin; Total Eclipse of the Heart 31. Be afraid. Be very afraid. 32. Wait’ll they get a load of me.

Character’s I write for

The Hobbit – Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dwalin, Bofur, Nori, Gloin (friends only), Frerin, Thranduil, Bard, Legolas, Bilbo, Lindir, Beorn

The Lord of the Rings – Aragorn, Boromir, Eomer, Faramir, Legolas, Gimli, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Elrond, Haldir

Supernatural – Sam, Dean, Castiel, Crowley, Gabriel, Lucifer, Benny, Balthazar, Chuck, Garth, Mick, Gadreel, Charlie, Bobby

Marvel – Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Loki, Thor, Peter Quill, Logan, Stephen Strange

Of course, this list isn’t a final thing, if you feel I could write a character, please just send me a message and I’ll let you know if I’m comfortable with it or not.

Please of course note that all drabble requests are reader insert.  I will not do character pairings, but I will change to first/third person if you prefer reading that way.  Y/N will be the standard name though and remain that way.

[a-splash-of-stucky]

you look so perfect standing there

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes [Not reader-insert]

Summary: When Bucky steps in a Natasha’s model at a shoot, he does not expect the photographer to be this hot.

Warnings: Bucky in lingerie, Bucky thinking very dirty thoughts about Steve, awkward flirting. No smut, but a lot of smutty thoughts. Language. 

Notes: Written for @wehaveabucky’s writing challenge, using the prompt: Photoshoot.

The author of this fic has a gratuitous kink for Bucky in skimpy underwear. I regret nothing. Also, if you ever want to give me a present, I will never turn down fics/artwork involving Bucky in lingerie. Visual inspiration for look [1] [2] and [3]

Stucky Masterlist

Bucky flops onto his couch with a tired sigh, grateful to be off his feet after spending an entire day chasing after a bunch of hyperexcited pre-schoolers. He loves his job, loves the kids in his class but man -- school trips are the worst. Of course, it’s just his luck that this week he’s had to go on three of them.

Thank fuck for child-free weekends.

Bucky hooks his toes under the lip of his coffee table and drags it over. Of course, he could sit up and reach over for the box of pizza, but that requires too much effort. His phone starts ringing just as he’s about to dig in. Cursing under his breath, Bucky wrestles it out of his back pocket and presses the answer button.

“’lo?”

“Barnes,” comes a crisp voice.

“Romanov,” Bucky replies, as he flips open the pizza box and grabs a slice.

“You’re free this weekend, yes?” she asks.

Bucky freezes, hand poised in mid-air. “Uh…I did have plans,” he says slowly.

Natasha snorts. “Really?” she drawls. Bucky can imagine her pursing her lips.

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, as he stuffs half the slice into his mouth. “M’gonna sleep in, sit on the couch all day, marathon Parks and Rec, eat a shit ton of junk—,”

“Great, you’re gonna be my model,” she announces.

Bucky splutters in surprise. “I’m gonna what now?”

“A model, Barnes. Y’know—,”

“Yes, I know what a model is, Nat,” he snaps, “But why me?”

“Eh, you’ve got a decent ass,” she replies.

Bucky snorts indignantly. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know that my ass is – wait, did you just compliment me? You think my ass looks nice?”

“I said it looks decent,” Nat says, enunciating clearly. “And stop fishing for compliments. Look, you know that I’ve got a new line of lingerie coming out for the store, right? My model cancelled on me last minute, and I needed someone on short notice.”

“I’m flattered to be your plan B,” Bucky says dryly.

“Actually, you’re more like plan E.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Bucky grumbles.

Nat huffs. “So. You in? This Sunday, for a couple of hours.”

Bucky sighs heavily. “Nat. I’m a teacher, I can’t—,”

“It’ll be completely anonymous,” she assures him. “Body shots only, your face won’t be included. And it’s not like you have any identifying marks on your body, so…”

As her voice trails off, Bucky heaves a dramatic sigh. “Okay, fine, but you’re buying me pizza after.”

“Deal. I’ll send you the address in a bit.”

----------

When Sunday rolls around, Bucky is most definitely not nervous. Of course not. That funny feeling in his stomach is just…indigestion. Possibly excitement. No nerves whatsoever.

Maybe he’s a little nervous.

He shows up to the location about ten minutes before he’s expected to be there. Nat’s directions have brought Bucky to an empty loft space in downtown. Bucky can understand why Nat’s chosen to have the shoot here; the exposed brick walls, wooden floors and overall industrial vibe is exactly the kind of aesthetic she tends to go for.

The loft is bustling with activity when Bucky arrives. People are dragging around lights, backdrops and various pieces of furniture. Bucky cranes his head around, looking for Nat. He startles when someone taps him on the shoulder.

When he turns around, his nearly gasps in surprise. His brain descends into chaos as his eyes are confronted the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen; blonde, with bright blue eyes and a disarming smile that Bucky wants to kiss right off his lips. Blondie is built as fuck, his broad shoulders and chest tapering into a ridiculously small waist. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans that hug his muscular thighs and a light blue t-shirt that clings to him like a second skin.

“Hi,” Blondie says, “You’re James, right?”

Oh. Oh, dear God, he’s talking to you – answer him you idiot, ANSWER HIM!

Why does his inner voice sound a lot like Rebecca?

“Uhh,” Bucky says. He mentally face-palms himself and tries not to outwardly grimace.  

Nice going, Barnes.

Blondie quirks an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Y-yeah, I’m James,” Bucky says, wincing internally at his stutter. “But, uh—just call me Bucky. Only my ma’s allowed to call me James.”

“Bucky, huh?” Blondie says, “Nice to meet you. I’m Steve.”

“Steve,” Bucky echoes distractedly, too busy watching the mesmerising movements of Steve’s lips. He really, really wants to kiss them. “Yeah, yeah, it’s uh…nice to meet you too.”

Get it together, Barnes, where’s your game at?

If Steve’s amused by Bucky’s bumbling pleasantries, he doesn’t let it show in his expression. “So, I’m gonna be your photographer for today,” Steve says casually.  

Fucking hell, Bucky is not gonna survive this day.

“Oh,” Bucky squeaks, “That’s great. That’s cool, yeah. Yeah, really excited to work with you, Steve, Nat’s told me about you.”

Steve laughs softly, ducking his head in embarrassment. “What’d she say about me?”

Hngh, how can this man simultaneously be the hottest and also the most adorable thing on this planet? It’s not fucking fair.

Bucky grins. At least, he thinks he’s grinning.

“Only the good stuff,” he replies, “She told me that you’re the only person she’d trust to run this shoot.”

Steve shakes his head like he can’t believe Natasha said that about him. To be fair, that woman does not give out compliments easily. He clears his throat and meets Bucky’s eyes once again. “Okay, well—um, we’ve got a pretty packed schedule today, so if you wanna head to hair and makeup and get changed and whatever…I’ll just…I need to finish setting up.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, “Yeah, see you in a bit, Steve.”

Steve flashes him another one of easy smiles and squeezes Bucky’s shoulder before he walks off. The lingering warmth of his hand sends shivers down Bucky’s spine. As Steve walks away, Bucky takes the opportunity to ogle his ass – those jeans are doing wonders for him. And that shirt? Hello sexy shoulder muscles.

Bucky heaves a shaky breath and runs his fingers through his hair.

He is so, so fucked for this shoot.

----------

“Oh, hey Wanda!” Bucky calls, as he walks into the dressing area. “You’re here to make me look good, I take it?”

“Yup,” she says, “Drop your bag anywhere, then come sit by the vanity. You need all the help you can get, so we’d best get started.”

“Har-har, Wan,” Bucky drawls. He drops the gym bag holding his change of clothes beside the vanity, then plops down in the foldable chair that Wanda pointed to. The surface of the table is littered with an assortment of beauty utensils, and the mirror has huge bulbs built into the frame.

“You look a little nervous,” Wanda comments, as she clips his bangs out of the way and starts to smooth some sweet-smelling cream all over his face. “Why’re you nervous? I know for a fact that this isn’t your first shoot.”

She’s right. Back when Natasha was in fashion school and just launching her online boutique, Bucky had often been the person to model her garments. He’d also done a few other modelling gigs back when he was a broke-ass college student, for some quick cash. He and Wanda had met on one of those gigs; when Bucky introduced her to Natasha, the two of them had hit it off, and now they’re something of a team.  

So yeah, Wanda is correct; this is not Bucky’s first photoshoot.

“’S my first one in lingerie, though,” Bucky mutters. He closes his eyes as Wanda starts to buff some foundation onto his face.

Wanda snorts. “Buck, you’ve done underwear modelling before, right? How’s this any different?”

Bucky shrugs. “Dunno,” he replies, even though he does. This photoshoot is different because the photographer is the most beautiful man that Bucky’s ever seen and Bucky desperately wants to bone him. Or be boned by him, whatever, Bucky’s not picky.

As Wanda picks up her powder, Bucky frowns in confusion, a lightbulb going off in his head.

“Wanda, why the hell’re you puttin’ makeup on me for?” he asks, “Nat said my face wasn’t even gonna be in the shot.”

Wanda pauses, her brush in mid-air. “Crap,” she mutters, “I forgot. It’s like a reflex, sorry. I’ll wipe it off—,”

“Wait!” Bucky blurts. She freezes in surprise.

If he’s going to have any chance at getting into Steve’s pants – or at least, at getting Steve to ask him out on a date so that he can eventually get into Steve’s pants – then he’s going to need every piece of help that he can get.  

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Bucky says, shooting her an easy smile. “I do. It helps me get in the right headspace.”

“Oh,” she says, blinking in surprise. “Oh, okay then, I’ll just…continue on.”

“Please do.”

“But seriously, relax, Bucky,” Wanda says, as she sweeps powder onto his face. “You got this.”

Bucky sighs. “M’ just a lil’ nervous, is all. Haven’t done this in a while, don’t go to the gym as often as I used to.”

“Bucky Barnes? Insecure in his own skin?” Wanda scoffs. “Puh-lease, now there’s a joke if I ever saw one.”

----------

Natasha drops by the hair and makeup area just as Wanda leaves in search of an extension cable.

“Romanov,” Bucky hisses.

She arches an eyebrow at his tone. “Yes, James?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he growls, careful to keep his voice down so as to not draw anyone’s attention.

“Tell you what?”

Bucky makes an exasperated noise and gestures towards Steve, who’s setting up some lights with the help of a couple of assistants. Natasha follows his gaze and, when she spots Steve, chuckles darkly.

“Oh, that you’d be parading around in lacy underwear in front of a blonde beefcake?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Yeah. That.”

“Whoops, it must’ve slipped my mind,” she says innocently.

“Some friend you are,” Bucky grumbles.

She hums thoughtfully as her eyes drift back to Steve. “He’s bi, you know? And single, too.”

“Fuck me,” Bucky groans, his heart doing excited somersaults in his chest.

Nat snickers. “No, but that’s something you might wanna ask Steve about,” she teases.

“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky snaps, turning away from her to hide his blush.

“Who knows, Barnes,” she sing-songs, “Something good could come out of this. Look, you’re gonna be parading in front of him in black lace, so make the most of it, is all I’m saying.”

Bucky snorts. “Would you kill me if I have a boner in like, half the pics?”

She turns on her heel and stalks off, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

----------

Once Wanda has finished his makeup and arranged his hair into a loose bun, she hands Bucky a pair of black lace panties, which, apparently, constitute his first ‘outfit’.

“Off you go,” she says, ushering him towards the corner of the dressing area, where a privacy screen has been set up. “There’s a mirror behind the screen and there should be a robe hanging off of it.”

Bucky dutifully trots off to get changed. He unzips his hoodie and slides his sweats and boxers down, leaving his clothes folded in a neat pile beside the mirror. The lace is surprisingly soft against his skin and the black compliments his skin tone nicely. He’d been worried that the lace would be too revealing, but actually, the pattern is busy enough to not leave him too indecently exposed. Bucky twists around to check the view from the back and gives himself a pat on the shoulder; his ass looks good.

When he looks at himself dead-on, though, he can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. Maybe he should’ve done some extra crunches when he went to the gym yesterday, or possibly even opted for something other than the greasy Chinese takeout he had last night. Either way, his abs are not as defined as they could be.

Is Steve the kinda guy that likes a toned man? Or, is he okay with a little bit of pudginess? Well, if Bucky’s going to be prancing around in his underwear in front of Steve, he’s going to damn well make sure that he looks smokin’ hot. That means pulling out all the stops.

“Hey Wanda?” he calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can you c’mere for a sec?”

“What’s up?” she asks, popping her head around the side of the screen. When she catches sight of him, she gives a low whistle. “Woah, Bucky, you look nice.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, flushing hot. “Um—d’you think you could…abs?” he mumbles, gesturing vaguely towards the region of his body in question.

“Abs?” she echoes, confused. “What about ‘em?”

“Could you…make ‘em look more obvious?”

Wanda smirks knowingly. “You want me to contour your abs, Bucky?”

“Yes,” Bucky sighs. “Make me look like I go to the gym five times a week.”

“I mean, yeah, I can do that, but you look great, so I don’t really see the point. What brought this on?” Wanda asks, as she steps around the privacy screen. She pulls out a brush and some contour powder from the utility belt strapped around her waist.

“Nothin’, I just wanna look good,” Bucky says.

She cocks her head to the side. “Look good? But you—oh my god,” she gasps.

“What?”

A maniacal grin stretches her lips. “It’s because of Steve, isn’t it?”

Bucky narrows his eyes at her. “No, it’s not,” he says tersely.  

“It is, it totally is,” she giggles, “Oh, did you know that he’s—,”

“Bisexual and single, yeah, Nat’s already told me that.”

“More importantly, he’s your type,” she whispers contritely, nudging Bucky with her elbow.

“I don’t have a type,” Bucky retorts defensively, “I just go for the nice guys!”

“Uh-huh,” Wanda says, a dubious expression on her face. “The nice guys with blonde hair and thighs that were made for grinding on, am I right?

Bucky doesn’t dignify her with an answer.

(She’s totally right)

“Flex your muscles. Tense up,” she instructs.

Bucky does as he’s told. Wanda dusts contour powder over his body.

“What d’you think about body oil?” she asks, as she moves her brush to his iliac furrow, sculpting out those lines too.

“What do I think about body oil?”

She looks up at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Imagine – glistening abs, glistening shoulders, looking like you’ve just had the best sex of your life—,”

“Sign me the fuck up.”

----------

After making himself look like a vision of sex, Bucky throws on a black silk robe and pads off in search of Steve. Bucky finds him standing beside a pile of white sheets that have been spread out on the floor. They’re piled on top of each other, creating sensual ripples in the fabric.

“Hey, Bucky!” Steve chirps, flashing another one of those killer smiles. “We’ve just finished setting up, you’re just on time.”

“This is the set?” Bucky asks, jerking his chin towards the unassuming mountain of white fabric.

Steve nods enthusiastically. “Yep. We couldn’t find a real bed on such short notice, so we kinda had to make do. The plan is for you to roll around in the sheets, with me standing above you, and then I’ll get a few shots. Sounds cool?”

“Yep!” Bucky replies, voice a little strangled.

Sure. No big deal. He’s going to be rolling around in silk sheets, in his lacy underwear, with Steve standing over him. No big deal.

“Great. So, if you’ll just drop the robe, we can get started.”

Bucky takes a deep, fortifying breath, then unties the sash holding his robe together. He doesn’t miss Steve’s sharp inhale as the silky garment slips off his shoulders. Despite his nerves, Bucky has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning. He hands the robe to an assistant and then crawls onto the sheets. When he’s in the middle of them, he twists around so that he’s lying on his back.

Steve is watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. “If you could just let your legs fall open a little,” he instructs, “Bring your feet in – yeah, just like that.”

Once he’s arranged Bucky to his satisfaction, Steve picks up his camera and stands between Bucky’s legs. The air is filled with the rhythmic snap of the shutter, as well as Steve’s murmured encouragements and instructions. Bucky’s nerves fall away as he gets into the zone. He manipulates his body as Steve directs, arching and flexing and relaxing as required.

The knowledge that his face won’t be in any of the shots doesn’t stop Bucky from giving Steve his best bedroom eyes. Bucky tips his head back invitingly, baring his throat and letting his lids droop half-shut. He parts his lips on an exhale, the corner of his mouth crooked up in a soft smile. He hopes that Steve is picking up his signals.

Steve curses under his breath when Bucky slips his right thumb into the waistband of his panties and tugs them down a little, as if he were about to slip them off. Bucky spends some time teasing Steve like this, sliding his fingers back and forth, and slipping a couple down the front, so that his fingertips are brushing the base of his cock. He arches his back and thrusts his pelvis upwards, his lips parting of their own accord on a silent moan.

“Uh, Bucky?” Steve asks, tearing his eyes away from the camera for a second. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip; Bucky notes the flush of colour on his cheeks.

“Could you—um, could you roll over, please? I need to – uh, I need to get some shots of your a—I mean, I need to get some shots of the back,” Steve stutters.

“You wanna get some shots of my ass, Steve, all you gotta do is ask,” Bucky drawls, smirking to himself as he rolls onto his stomach.

He finds himself naturally bringing his knees up under him and pressing his chest to the floor; the position draws attention to his lace-clad ass. Bucky can feel the weight of Steve’s stare, intense and heated, as it rakes over his back. He has half a mind to start grinding against the sheets, humping the floor like he’s some horny teenager.

Once Steve’s gotten all the shots he needs, Bucky gets sent off to Wanda to change into his next set. She’s waiting in the dressing area with a knowing smirk on her face.

“What?” Bucky asks, as he walks past her.

“Don’t ‘what’ me, Barnes,” she says, turning to keep pace with him. “I think the only way you could’ve been more obvious was if you ripped the panties off and flat-out asked him to fuck you. Like, seriously, we all thought we were seconds away from watching you two shoot a porno!”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky shrugs, despite the flush crawling up his cheeks. “Didn’t want to give him any reason to doubt, y’know? If he wants it, he wants it and I’m gonna let him have it.”

“You should’ve seen the look on his face when you rolled over,” she comments, as Bucky steps behind the privacy screen. “I’m pretty sure he was about to have a heart attack.”

“My ass does that to people,” Bucky agrees. Wanda snorts in response.

The next set that Bucky changes into comprises of more pieces. There’s a pair of white thigh-highs with a lace trim, a garter belt to hold them up and some matching lace panties to complete the look. These panties are cut differently to the ones that Bucky currently has on; nearly half his ass is going to be on show.

Luckily, Bucky’s ass is at peak form. All those squats have finally paid off.  

“Hey Wanda?” he calls, as he takes the lingerie pieces off their hangers.

“Yeah?”

“Do I put panties over garter, or garter over panties?”

“Garter over panties,” she replies, “You only do it the other way ‘round if you’re planning to take the panties off, which we’re not doing.”

“But what if I wanna take ‘em off?”

“Barnes, none of us wants to see your bare ass,” Wanda sighs.

“Steve might,” Bucky grumbles.

The garter belt and clips are a little fiddly, but once everything is in place, Bucky has to admit that he looks good. The thigh-highs elongate his legs and the belt emphasises the smooth curve of his waist. His cock is snugly held by the lace panties and the bottom of his ass cheeks look especially perky.

If Bucky were Steve, he’d fuck Bucky.

Bucky slips on his robe and pads back out to the main area, where an assistant points him to where he’s needed. From the looks of it, he’ll just be shot in front of a simple black backdrop – Bucky is thankful that this set-up doesn’t involve Steve standing over him, as he doesn’t think that he’ll survive another round of that. A couple of light boxes cast a warm glow.  

Steve catches his gaze and smiles, gesturing for Bucky to step onto the set. This time, when Bucky drops his robe, Steve is more open with his appreciation; his eyes widen noticeably, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. His gaze roams over Bucky’s body hungrily and, when their eyes meet again, he doesn’t bother to apologise.

“You look good,” he says instead, voice dark and husky.

A rush of heat travels down Bucky’s spine.

The current set-up is more similar to modelling gigs that Bucky’s had in the past, but the fact that he’s strutting around in fancy lingerie is definitely new. He’s also never wanted to fuck his photographer this bad, either.

“Okay, Bucky, if you could just tip your head back and cross one leg in front of the other – yes, hold it, just like that,” Steve praises, peering into the viewfinder as he snaps a few pictures. Steve encourages Bucky to move around and do whatever feels natural, so Bucky finds himself twisting himself this way and that, focusing on creating sinuous, sensuous lines with his body.

“That’s great, Buck, real good,” Steve murmurs, every now and then.

Bucky finds it ridiculously endearing that Steve’s somehow managed to make a nickname out of his nickname. He likes how the syllable sounds as it rolls off Steve’s tongue, the easy familiarity behind it. Bucky wants to find out what his name sounds like rolling off of Steve’s tongue when Bucky’s sucking on his dick or riding his cock, but that’s a mystery to be solved later.

“Turn around for me, please? Great, could you put one hand on the back of your neck and look at me over your shoulder?”

Bucky does as he’s told, craning his neck around until he’s looking at Steve. He notices how Steve’s gaze is appreciative as he casts it over Bucky’s back and ass. When their eyes meet, the corner of Steve’s lip twitches, like he’s resisting the urge to smirk. Bucky wouldn’t call himself vain – well, no vainer than the average person, at least – but he’s looked at the mirror enough times to know that he’s got a little bit of muscle definition going on back there when he flexes. Clearly, Steve likes what he sees.

Bucky makes sure to arch his back so that his ass looks perkier. He tells himself that he’s doing this for the sake of modelling the panties, but really, it’s because Bucky wants to shove his ass into Steve’s face.

Figuratively and literally.

----------

Bucky’s final pair of panties are deep-red and high-waisted, with a criss-cross ribbon design in the back. Wanda also hands him an oversized, white, long-sleeve button-down to wear; it hangs off his shoulders in a sultry manner.

Bucky is accosted by Natasha after Wanda finishes touching-up his makeup and dousing his hair in more texturing spray.

“Barnes,” she says primly.

“Yes, Natasha?”

The smile she gives him doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re modelling for an advertising campaign, yes?”

Bucky nods in agreement.

“Good,” she says, “Keep that in mind.”

His brows pull together in confusion. “What’re you…tryna say, Nat?”

“Stop acting like you’re on a porn shoot.”

Bucky blanches. “Am I…that obvious?” he asks, as they start walking to the next set.

She quirks one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Look, if you wanna seduce Steve, then don’t let me stop you, just…maybe stop trying to get him to fuck you on the spot?”

“I…make no promises,” Bucky says.

Nat snorts. “Then I retract my promise of buying you pizza.”

Bucky’s eyes land on Steve, who’s conversing with a couple of assistants on the other side of the space. “If I get to have a slice of that beefcake, I think I’ll be okay,” he tells her.

“Oh my god,” Natasha mutters, shoving his shoulder. “That was terrible. I’m leaving you, go away.”

Bucky walks away from her, still cackling.

The final set consists of a chaise lounge that has been positioned in the corner of the space, in front of an exposed brick wall. It’s angled so that it is bathed in the sunlight pouring in from a nearby window. The chaise is upholstered with maroon velvet and sits low to the ground. There are cream and off-white blankets draped over it in a haphazard manner, and someone has piled on some throw pillows.

Steve grins when he spots Bucky, not bothering to hide his meaningful once-over. Because Bucky’s wearing the oversized shirt, Wanda hadn’t bothered to give him a robe. And, since the shirt is unbuttoned, Steve can plainly see the red panties that Bucky is wearing.

“How do I look?” Bucky asks, as he makes a show out of turning around in a circle.

Steve tilts his head to the side, an amused smile on his lips.

“Stunning,” he replies softly.

Bucky swallows, his throat suddenly going dry. Jesus, is this guy even real?

Steve asks Bucky to lie on his couch with his head against the arm rest, legs sprawled out over the blankets.

“I just want you to relax into it, Buck,” Steve says, as he brings his camera to his eyes. “Less posing more…softness. Like you’ve just woken up.”

With those directions in mind, Bucky slouches further into the chaise and brings one knee up, resting his wrist atop it as his shirt pools around him. With the too-big garment constantly slipping down his shoulders, Bucky has multiple excuses to run his hands over his body, under the guise of rearranging the material. The shutter clicks continuously.

Bucky has long recognised the value of having a narrative to use when he’s modelling; if he can become someone, if he can step into a character’s shoes, then it becomes much easier for him to deliver the desired aesthetic. With his skimpy red panties and his oversized shirt, it’s easy for Bucky to imagine that he’s spending the night at Steve’s place, and that he’s borrowed Steve’s shirt so that he’s not totally naked as he lounges on the couch. Oh yeah, that’s a dream he’s happy to entertain – maybe they’ve been seeing each other for a while and this is the first time that Bucky’s spending the night at his place. Yeah, that would explain why he doesn’t have any clothes here.

Or maybe – maybe Bucky’s some sort of kept boy, a sugar baby, perhaps. Steve’s given him these nice panties and has now asked Bucky to model them for him. Distantly, Bucky wonders if Steve would be into that kind of relationship.  

Steve calling his name snaps Bucky out of his whimsical daydream.

“Huh?” Bucky says, blinking owlishly at Steve. Damn, what’d he just miss?

Steve smiles benignly. “I asked if you could get up on your knees so that I could see the back.”

“Oh,” Bucky murmurs, “Yeah, sure.”

He rearranges himself so that he’s kneeling on the chaise, facing the brick wall behind it. Bucky slips the shirt off his shoulders and gathers most of the material in his hands, so that it drapes over the backs of his legs and leaves his ass completely exposed. When he hears Steve’s sharp intake of breath, he smirks – the criss-cross design exposes the top of his crack in a rather scandalous way.

Steve moves around him, taking shots at various angles. Bucky tenses his muscles and flexes his back, contorting his body every way he can, to give Steve some variety to work with.

“That’s good, Buck, that’s real good,” Steve praises, “Could you turn to the right a little – yes, just like that.”

The entire photoshoot is over in a depressingly short amount of time.

Steve calls it a wrap with a booming voice and a loud clap of his hands. Bucky shrugs the shirt back onto his shoulders, but leaves it unbuttoned as he walks back over to the dressing area, unwilling to hide his body from Steve’s appreciative gaze. The man in question gives Bucky a friendly smile as Bucky walks past him. Steve opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but gets distracted when Natasha calls him.

Bucky grabs the bag that he’d dumped beside the makeup station and brings it to the changing area. He slips out of the panties and the button-down, then pulls on the street clothes that he’d brought with him; CKs, a pair of black skinny jeans and his favourite red pullover. Bucky stuffs the hoodie and sweats that he’d been wearing earlier into his bag, bids goodbye to Wanda and is scanning the studio for Nat when someone catches his wrist.

“Hey,” Steve says breathlessly, when Bucky turns to face him.

“Hey yourself,” Bucky replies.

“I—uh, I just wanted to say that I had a great time working with you today,” Steve says, ducking his head shyly. “Uh—yeah, you were really fun to shoot. It’s always nice to work with someone playful and responsive.”

Bucky flushes, scuffing the toe of his Converse against the floor in embarrassment. “Um—thanks. That’s—yeah, it was real great working with you too, Steve. You—um. You really knew what you were doing.”

Really, Barnes? Can you not handle a compliment or something?

Steve ducks his head in acknowledgement of the praise, a tiny smile on his lips. “Thanks,” he murmurs. Steve opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, as if he were about to say something, but then thought better of it.

“You doin’ anything nice this afternoon?” Bucky asks, as he readjusts his grip on his bag.

Steve snorts. “You, I hope,” he mumbles. There’s a half-second of silence, before his eyes widen and a scarlet blush blooms over the apples of his cheeks.

“I—I mean,” he stammers “I—uh, shit, that’s not what I—I mean, yes, I’d like that but—okay, fine laugh it up.”

Bucky is giggling – giggling, like he’s some sort of schoolgirl – at Steve’s mortified expression. “Well, that’s one way to be direct,” he jokes, as he wipes the tears from his eyes.

If it were possible, Steve’s flush goes even redder. “I—what I meant to say,” Steve sighs, “Was—would you, uh, I mean, are you busy this afternoon?”

Bucky cocks his head to the side and appraises him. “Well,” he drawls, “I did have plans.”

Steve’s face falls. “Oh,” he says quietly. “Oh, that’s okay, I don’t wanna—,”

“I was gonna go home,” Bucky continues, talking over Steve. “Take a bath, order in some pizza, crack open a beer, maybe watch some Game of Thrones.”

He trails off with a shrug. “But, y’know. ‘M open to other suggestions,” he says, knocking his shoulder against Steve’s.  

“Really?” Steve murmurs, a smile gracing his lips. “Well, maybe you’d let me take you out for a coffee?”

Bucky bites his lip and nods. “Yeah, Steve. Yeah, I’d really like that.”

[abbythemusician14]

Bangtan’s Best Friend 2(Taehyung/V Reader Insert)

“Touch my body!” You and Taehyung sang at the top of your lungs along with your favorite SISTAR song. The two of you sat in the back of Seokjin’s car, he and Hoseok sat in the driver and passenger seats. They laughed and joined in singing from time to time.

Within ten minutes, you pulled up to the guys’ moderately sized apartment. It never ceased to amaze you how far they had come since 2013. You remember visiting their dorm back in their first days as idols; they’d shared one room then. Though it was hard at the time, in the end it helped them bond more.

All of these thoughts ran through your mind as you walked into the building. You slipped your shoes off at the front door and put on a pair of soft slippers before walking across the threshold.

Taehyung followed close behind you, Seokjin and Hoseok having gone ahead of you. “It feels like it’s been ages since you last came here,” Tae said.

“You guys have barely been home this past year.” You looked back at him, smiling sadly. When his face fell, you quickly shook your head. “Tae, don’t look so sad. You guys are living your dreams and I am so proud of you. Sure it’s hard not being able to see you often, but that’s what makes our reunions so much sweeter.”

His lips turned up slightly. “You’re right, (y/n).” He stroked your hair, dark eyes locking with yours. His hand moved down to cup your cheek and your breath hitched in your throat. “You look really pretty today.” His eyes traveled up and down your bare face, the small smile fading as his gaze rested on your lips.

You covered his hand with your own. “Taehyung…” you trailed off, a bit confused by his actions and your own reaction to them. Are those butterflies in my stomach? Caused by my best friend?!

Tae’s expression changed in a millisecond when the door opened and the other half of the boys walked in loudly. He dropped his hand quickly and gave you a quick smile before walking into the kitchen hurriedly.

Namjoon came over to you first, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Why was Taehyung in such a hurry?” he asked, motioning toward the kitchen door.

You shook your head and stared at the door in confusion. “I have no idea.”

“Don’t worry about it too much, (y/n). You know how he can be sometimes.” Namjoon squeezed your shoulder comfortingly.

Jimin and Jungkook slid over to you after taking off their shoes. “Did Namjoon tell you we’re moving into a new apartment at the beginning of next month?” Jimin’s question was random and caught you off guard.

You stepped away from Namjoon and looked up at him curiously. “No he didn’t. Where will this new place be?”

Namjoon‘s smile was sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “PDnim is moving us into the apartments in Hannam.”

“Hannam?!” you asked incredulously. “Those are super fancy!” You knew their producer, Bang Si-Hyuk, always tried to give the boys that best that he could afford. Though you never expected them to move into one of the highest tier apartment buildings in Seoul.

Jungkook grinned. “But it’ll be a lot more private. The security is going to be super tight.”

“Plus more space,” Jimin chimed in.

You raised an eyebrow at Namjoon. “And when were you planning on telling me this, Mr. Kim?”

The two younger members snickered quietly at their leader and hurried into the kitchen to avoid his icy glare. You cleared your throat expectantly, causing Namjoon to look back at you guiltily. “(y/n), I’m sorry. I was just waiting for the right time.”

Before you could reply, Yoongi shuffled up to you. “In his defense, he was planning on telling you some time today.”

You sighed. “I’m happy for you guys. I really am.” You smiled at both of them and saw Namjoon breathe in relief. “The extra security will be good for you.”

The three of you walked into the kitchen to join the others. “(y/n), what would you like to eat?” Seokjin asked. He wore a black apron with the words “Dad Joke Master” sewn into the front, his typical attire when cooking.

You shrugged, taking the empty seat next to Tae. “I’m down for anything. Maybe you should ask Jungkook since he said he was hungry first.”

Jungkook put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “What about lamb kebabs?” He looked over at Yoongi slyly, the latter snickering.

Everyone else nodded at the suggestion and Seokjin clapped his hands together. “All right, Namjoon and Hoseok are in charge of setting the table. Jungkook and Jimin, chop up the veggies. Yoongi, you help me with the meat.”

You raised your hand as everyone but you and Tae began working. “What about the two of us?”

“Hm,” Seokjin said, looking in the cabinets. “We need skewers and drinks. Why don't the two of you go to the marketplace to get those?”

You looked at Namjoon for approval. “Will we be okay in this neighborhood, Joon?”

Namjoon stopped and thought about it for a second, then nodded. “As long as Taehyung covers up you'll be fine.”

—————

You and Tae walked down the street toward the small shop near the dorm. He wore a black mask, a grey beanie, and his rectangular prescription glasses. Though you could tell his identity from a mile away, most fangirls wouldn't recognize him unless he removed his mask.

The silence between you was broken only by the sounds all around: your shoes against the sidewalk, the chatter of random passersby, and cars ambling down the road. You looked up at Tae curiously and caught him staring down at you. His eyes crinkled with the smile hidden behind his mask, then he turned his gaze forward again. Before you could ask him what was going on, Taehyung wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side.

“Stay close,” he murmured just loud enough for you to hear, squeezing your shoulder affectionately. “There’s a guy behind us who’s been eyeing you since we left the dorm.”

You nodded, trying to quell the warm feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Thanks, Tae.”

You walked into the shop together, Tae’s arm still wrapped around your shoulders. After a few minutes of looking around for the skewers, you spoke up. “I think it’s safe to let me go now.”

Taehyung stopped in the middle of the aisle and looked down at you again. “What if I don’t want to let you go?”

Your cheeks burned at his words. “What?”

He chuckled and released you. “I’ll tell you later.” After stroking your hair again, he scanned the aisles around the two of you. “I don’t see any skewers here. Let’s try the next aisle.”

You browsed the store for another ten minutes before finding what you needed. The whole time you thought about everything that had happened with Taehyung that day. From the cute hug at your apartment to the unusual compliments and affectionate touches, it seemed like he felt something more than friendship for you. And your internal reactions made you realize that you felt more for him as well.

There is no way that Kim Taehyung has a crush on you, you chided yourself as you stood in the checkout line. The two of you have been best friends for five years. A guy and a girl can just be friends. You talked yourself out of any hopeful thoughts in your head and tried to rationalize Tae’s behavior.

By the time you exited the store, your head was clear; you felt better about the whole situation overall, but a part of you still wondered what Taehyung would tell you and when “later” would be.

“Why are you so quiet?” Taehyung’s deep voice pulled you from your reverie.

You noticed that you were almost halfway to the dorm. “No reason. Just thinking.” You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and Tae followed your lead. “What were you going to tell me earlier?”

Silence. You looked up to see Tae’s eyes darting around you curiously. After a few seconds, he slipped the mask below his chin and placed the grocery bags on the sidewalk. “What did you think of me when we first met?”

You chuckled softly. “Have I not told you this before? I thought you were totally weird.”

Tae grinned, thin lips turning up slightly. “And now?”

“I dunno. I came to appreciate your uniqueness. And I feel like I can tell you anything.” You raised an eyebrow. “But I thought you were telling me something, not asking me questions.”

He nodded and looked down at his fidgeting hands. “Right.”

You reached out to grab his hands. “It’s me. You know I’m here for you no matter what.”

Squeezing your hands, Tae pulled you into his chest softly. His arms wrapped around your middle and the same warmth from earlier flooded through your body. “I...I really like you,” he murmured.

His words echoed in your brain over and over again. The worries from before seemed so distant, as if they'd occurred years ago. You found your voice after a few seconds. “I like you too, Tae.” You pulled away slightly and smiled up at him.

“Really?” he asked, eyes and mouth wide. When you nodded in response, he picked you up off of the ground and spun you around. His eyes crinkled into half-moons and laughter rippled from his open mouth. As per usual, his elation was catching; you found yourself laughing just as hard.

Taehyung lowered you onto your feet after a few seconds, his face changing like it had earlier at the dorm. He hesitated slightly before taking your face in his hands; the warmth of them blocked the frigid air that nipped at your otherwise exposed skin. He looked around again before capturing your lips with his own. The kiss was very brief, yet soft. When Tae pulled away, he smiled. Not the smile he put on for the cameras. A real smile that touched his eyes.

“Hurry and put your mask back on before someone sees you,” you said, blushing.

Grinning, Tae pulled the mask back over his mouth and nose. He let you go and picked up the grocery bags. You walked in a comfortable silence back to the dorm, stealing glances at one another occasionally.

“Do the guys know how you feel?” you asked before you entered the dorm building.

Tae nodded. “Of course. I had to ask Namjoon-hyung if it was okay in the first place.”

You raised an eyebrow at his answer. “And how did he react to that?” You and Namjoon had ended your previous relationship mutually, but you hadn’t spoken to him about it since.

“He told me that my feelings for you were pretty obvious and told me to confess soon before some other guy realized how wonderful you are.” Taehyung colored slightly. “But he did warn me about how difficult it would be to have a relationship as a celebrity.”

You sighed and gave a curt nod. “Joon’s right, you know. I wonder if we should even try since you guys are becoming so famous.”

He stopped walking. “I believe in us, (y/n). I want to try.” Taehyung looked down at his feet, his face sad. “But I don’t want to force you into anything.”

“Tae…” you trailed off, walking over to him. You reached up to touch his face. “I want to try. I’m just...scared, I guess. I don’t want to lose you.”

Taehyung reached up to cover your hand with his free one, eyes meeting yours. “You know I’m here for you no matter what,” he said, echoing your words from just a few minutes before. To seal the moment, Tae lifted your hand from his face and placed a soft kiss on the back of it.

You bit your lip, trying not to blush more than you already were. “Okay. No matter what.”

—————

“Finally!” Jungkook said as you walked back into the kitchen.

The table had been set with dishes, utensils, and the lamb kebab fixings in the middle. A large bowl of rice and a similar one filled with noodles sat on either side of the main course. “Wow, this looks nice,” you said.

Seokjin smiled triumphantly. “Of course it does. I made it.”

Tae took the skewers and drinks from the bags and placed them on the table. “Ooh, soju!” Hoseok exclaimed.

You helped Seokjin place the fixings on the skewers then sat down in between Taehyung and Yoongi. “Thank you for the meal,” you said to Seokjin and everyone echoed your sentiment to their hyung.

You waited for Seokjin to serve himself and then started digging into the food. Tae put a kabob on your plate before getting one for himself, then put healthy servings of rice and noodles beside it. “Eat up, beautiful,” he said.

Everyone looked at the two of you with curious expressions. Then Namjoon put the pieces together. “Ah, you told her.”

Taehyung nodded, grinning. Everyone reacted with a collective “whoa!”. Jimin slung his arm around Tae and told him he was proud of him, much like the way Taehyung had told Namjoon the same thing in some of their American interviews.

“So you two are a couple now?” Yoongi asked once the excitement had calmed down.

You smiled and nodded. “Yes. I hope that no one feels uncomfortable with that.”

Yoongi shook his head. “We were wondering when Taehyung would actually do it. I’ve been waiting for this to happen for years.” He patted you on the head. “I’m happy for the two of you.” This was the ultimate compliment coming from Yoongi.

But it was Namjoon that you were worried about. Not because of jealousy, but approval. “Namjoon?” You looked at Bangtan’s leader, your former boyfriend, and friend of several years.

Namjoon ran a hand through his gray hair and looked at the two of you seriously. “You know it will be hard. Most fans know who (y/n) is because she’s been spotted with us in the past, but that doesn’t mean they won’t harass or bully her online. And the media will have lots to say when it comes out. Are you two ready for that?”

You looked at Tae, who smiled at you reassuringly. He took your hand under the table and squeezed it, then looked at his leader confidently. “We’re ready.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s the two of you.” Namjoon smiled and reached across the table to offer his hand to Tae. The two of them clasped hands momentarily and you felt a huge weight lift off of your shoulders. All the boys “awe-d” at the sweet moment and Namjoon waved them off. “Ya, let’s drink some soju.”

Jungkook took a bottle and began pouring the alcohol into everyone’s shot glasses. Though Tae and you bought cokes from the store for yourselves, you agreed since Namjoon had suggested it. He held up his glass and everyone followed. “To Bangtan’s success this last year and (y/n), our constant support.”

After clinking glasses with everyone, you downed the shot quickly. Then you took your chopsticks off of the table and dug into the spicy noodles, your favorite side dish. “How is the meat?” Seokjin asked. You picked up the kebab and sampled a piece of the lamb.

“Mmmm,” you said as the flavors danced across your taste buds. “Can you make this all the time?”

Jimin nodded in agreement. “I second that.”

“Eh, it’s a little dry,” Jungkook said, smirking. Seokjin smacked him on the shoulder and you all laughed when Jungkook jumped up and started running around the table to escape his hyung’s abuse.

The shenanigans increased as the alcohol flowed, especially with Hoseok and Jimin. Once everyone had finished eating and the drinks were dwindling, Hoseok challenged everyone to a girl group dance battle. Since there were eight of you, you decided to compete as teams. But to make it fair, you drew partner names from a bowl. Hoseok ended up with Namjoon, Yoongi with Jimin, Seokjin with Jungkook, and surprisingly enough, Tae drew your name.

“Ya, that isn’t fair!” Seokjin said when Tae pulled your name from the bowl.

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Whatever. You got the golden maknae.”

Hoseok called everyone to attention and explained the rules, his words slurring together a bit. “Every team will choose a song from the bowl and have twenty minutes to prepare their routine. That includes outfits.”

“Will it be the whole song?” Jimin asked.

Hoseok shook his head. “Just the first verse and chorus.”

Namjoon piped in. “But who will judge since we’re all doing it?”

“The three groups watching will give each performance a number out of ten. The group with the highest total will win.” Hoseok smirked, seemingly proud of himself for coming up with all of this on the spot.

After putting 12 popular girl group songs in the bowl, each of you drew your fate. Seokjin drew for his team and picked AOA’s “Miniskirt”, which excited Jungkook because he knew the dance well. Jimin drew and picked “Something” by Girl’s Day. Yoongi groaned in disappointment and you laughed. You drew from the bowl and ended up choosing “Give it to Me” by SISTAR; you and Tae felt confident because SISTAR was one of your favorite groups. Last but definitely not least, Namjoon chose “TT” by Twice.

Boy would this be interesting.

—————

Twenty minutes later, all the teams had gathered in the living room. You and Tae had put together the best costumes you could with the boys’ things. Everyone else’s outfits were laughable as well; you could not wait to see the other routines.

First up, thanks to rock-paper-scissors, was Jimin and Yoongi. They found some long wigs and wore tank tops with thin towels wrapped around their waists to represent the high-slitted skirts that Girl’s Day performed with. Surprisingly, Yoongi took the first part as Jimin snapped to the beat. But when they got on the floor and started to do the sensual choreography, you all died laughing. Jimin was in his element, but anyone could tell that Yoongi was uncomfortable. However, their performance was good overall; Yoongi was actually a good dancer. Their combined score out of 40 was 31.

Namjoon and Hoseok went next with “TT.” Their outfits were color coordinated with lots of sequins, an impressive feat. They’d even found some bows to put in their hair. The six of you watching did the fan chants as the song began and instantly started giggling when Hoseok started the cutesy dance routine. Namjoon tried, poor thing; at least he seemed to be having fun with it. He tried doing aegyo with the chorus choreography, poking his lips out at the “TT” line. They ended up with a 28 out of 40, mostly because of their energy and outfits.

You stood after their judging was over and joined Taehyung in the middle of the living room. Your outfits included short shorts with bright tights underneath and sparkly tops. Tae had even found a top hat for himself and a cane for you, mimicking the clothing theme in SISTAR’s video. Tae took the introduction and you struck a sexy pose behind him, trying your hardest not to crack a smile. You entered performer mode when the first verse started, snapping along to the beat while doing the choreography. But you really shined during the chorus. The two of you danced perfectly in sync, even down to the hip movements. You couldn’t help but admire Tae’s improved dancing; he’d come so far since their debut. The boys gave you a 35 out of 40, only because Hoseok and Jungkook thought they could do it better.

Seokjin and Jungkook went last with “Miniskirt.” They wore long white shirts with tights underneath and lots of eye makeup and jewelry. Jungkook started the choreography, trying not to smile as you laughed. Seokjin actually did really well with the slow and sexy movements, even down to the little butt shaking move. He laughed the entire time, however. In the end, they beat you by two points.

By the time you finished, it was almost seven PM.

“Do you want to stay and watch a movie?” Taehyung asked as the others went to their rooms.

You smiled. “As long as I get to choose.”

After searching through Netflix, you decided on Mulan. It had always been your favorite Disney movie growing up because of Mulan’s kick-butt nature. You and Taehyung sang along with all of the songs, but after the scene where Mulan was discovered to be a girl, your eyes started to get droopy. You leaned your head against Tae’s chest and he wrapped his arm around you. The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of his lips brushing against your hair.