#‘​YEAH that’s going to snap IMMEDIATELY this is why you don’t CATCH anything!!!!!’ and meg’s just sipping her tea beside us

[lem-argentum]

haven’t been talking about doug and meg as much but i promise that in my head they have definitely been watching me play this game and making fun of how much attention i’m giving this new blorbo

[depressedacadamia]

How do you passive aggressively say Fuck you in flower?

Summary:Nico walks into a flower shop asking for a hateful bouquet. Will cannot help but wonder who on Earth it’s for.

A/N: Oh my gosh, another on time weekly update??? WHaaaat? I have exams coming up so I'm procrastinating by writing instead of revising. I plan on making a part 2 so watch out for that! Besides that, comment, follow and enjoyyy  <3 from mee!

Read on A03

“How do you passive aggressively say fuck you in flower?”

Will did not expect that to be the first request he had when he started his morning shift in the local florists that he worked in on Saturdays to help earn some more cash on the side. Med school was expensive and half his friends already thought he was crazy to work while studying Medicine but he had assured them that he could do it.

This customer was both proving his point and not.

Afterall, he wasn’t a professional florist or anything, he just knew the basics- figuring out how to say fuck you in flower sounded like something out of his range and he figured it would take a while.

“Uh, excuse me? Did I hear you correctly?” Will asked, rubbing the back of head, slightly unsure.

The boy in front of him simply sighed. “ I said, how do I passive aggressively say Fuck you in flower?”`

Will couldn’t tell if his jaw had actually dropped or if he was just remembering the moment incorrectly. Looking back, he really hoped he hadn’t dropped his jaw.

“That, uh well- you see, I’m not really a professional, I just work here on the weekends and the actual florist doesn't come in on Saturdays- but she’ll be here tomorrow. I could take down your name and request for her if that’s okay?”

The boy grinned and nodded. He picked up his skateboard and left the shop with the bell ringing on his way out.

What had just happened?

Did he actually just get asked how to say fuck you in flower?

Will couldn’t say he was very surprised when the same boy showed up the next day with a blonde haired girl by his side. From his perspective, they seemed close- Was that his girlfriend? He does know that giving her flowers that say Fuck you without tellling her is extrremely passive aggressive?

Will brushed his hair out of his eyes and snatched a hair clip from the girl who stood behind the till. She frowned and threw a pen at him.

“Oi! Get your own clips sunboy,” Meg snapped. Will stuck his tongue out at her and walked straight into another figure before hitting the floor with a thud and groaning in both annoyment and agony. His eyes snapped open on remembering that he had walked into someone.

He glanced upwards and was surprised to find a hand shoved into his face and so let his eyes follow the arm upwards to find the face of its owner. It was the passive aggressive boy from yesterday. Unlike yesterday, he was sporting a lip piercing and was wearing black ripped jeans flawlessly like some magical idol from some manga or anime.

Will couldn’t help but gape, staring at him. The boy looking at him simply tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a small smile.

“Aren’t you gonna take my hand?” The boy mumbled, his gaze averting when he noticed Will staring at the lip ring. Will, on realising he had been staring, heaved himself up on the hand and started apologizing profusely.

“I’m so so sorry, I didn't see you and I needed to tie my hair up…” He patted his head only to feel that his hair was still down but then he hissed and felt a small shot of pain across his palm. Raising his arm to take a look at his palm, he noticed their hair clip had broken and slashed a cut across his hand.

He gave another groan and ignored his hand. As he was left handed and the wound was on his right hand, it couldn’t be too bad. Besides, he had already embarrassed himself in front of the cute boy and his girlfriend and kept them waiting, he didn't want to cause more problems.

“Oh, yeah- your flowers. Boss told me- she said it was not as uncommon a request as I thought it was-”

“-You thought it was a weird request?” The boy's voice was smaller, less cheery. There was an element of melancholy to it and Will immediately realised what he had said.

“Uncommon, not weird. I just thought it was awfully passive aggressive.”

Nico grumbled, “I mean I did ask how to passive aggresively say Fuck you in flower…”

Will let out a warm, throaty laugh, flinging his golden hair back and batting his bloody hand in the air. “ I guess you’re right.”

Nico thought he could feel butterflies trying to force their way out of his body after listening and seeing the flower boy laugh- it was the most magnificently gorgeous thing he had ever seen and heard. His laugh sounded like honey- sweet and addictive.

However, he then caught sight of Will’s bloody hand and frowned. He was pretty sure that his hand wasn’t supposed to be bleeding and it really looked like it hurt.. Besides, how would the poor kid be able to write with a gash like that?

Will moved his hand to pick out the flowers he needed and just as his hand reached out to grab them, he felt another hand wrap around his wrist. It was undeniably cold. The fingertips had calluses and he saw a few tattoos lurking on the hand, a couple in a language that he recognised to be Greek.

However, before he could read the words, his hand was snatched upwards and splayed out. The cute customer with the lip ring was holding his wounded hand out.

“You’re bleeding,” He pointed out.

“Why yes, I am. Thank you for that very insightful observation. Are you an artist?” Will sarcastically asked, his voice still light implying he was joking. Nico raised his eyebrow in appreciation of the sarcasm.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not meant to be bleeding- What are you, a doctor?”

“I will be,” Will said smugly.

Nico snorted. “Should I be alarmed for your future patients that their doctor doesn’t know how to keep their own wound clean?”

Slightly salty and pouting, Will snatched away his wrist and turned away slightly in a huff.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“It wasn’t an opinion. It was a fact- You could get tetanus walking around with a cut like that and handling these gardening tools- Aren’t you meant to know that, doc?” Nico smirked teasingly, right behind Will, his lips teasingly close to Will’s neck.

Will shivered, feeling the warm breath on his neck. He closed his eyes and for a second leaned into the warmth coming from behind him before remembering he was meant to be professional.

Professionalism, Yes, professionalism.

“You know, not to interrupt whatever soulmate bond you two are having,” Annabeth drawled, “I’m just saying, for once- Nico is right. That cut looks nasty. Let Nico clean it up for you, he’s gotten good at it after all these years.”

“Annabethhh,” Nico half groaned, half whined under his breath. Annabeth knew what it meant- Why did you tell the cute guy that?

Will glanced at the gory sight on his hand, grimacing slightly. He knew that he could go and sort it himself but if someone was offering to fix it for him, he wasn’t really one to object. Afterall, if Nico knew what he was doing, then his hand should be in good hands?

Will did not get the chance to make that joke out loud.

He sighed and nodded at the wise words from the blonde girl and led Nico to the back room- despite what it said, was not at the back. In fact, the ‘back room’ had its door right by the front of the shop, tucked away neatly in the front corner of the shop.

“Uh, I think the med kit is somewhere here.” Will rummaged about in the corner next to the high shelves, holding his bloodied hand above his head as to try and stop the bleeding faster- In med school he had been recently studying cardiology and he wanted to see if certain tips really worked.

“You don’t need to hold your arm all the way up there ya know? Just high enough so that it’s above your heart.” Nico stood right behind Will so when he turned around, they were face to face. Nico leaned closer, so close that their noses were almost brushing and Will panicked-

-Suddenly, Will placed his hands on Nico’s chest, in an effort to slightly push him away, which worked successfully. However, in the few seconds his hands had been pressed up against Nico’s chest, he had felt the firm planes of muscle- So he definitely works out.

“Hey! That’s kinda uh, quick isn't it?”

Will risked cracking one of his eyes open and saw Nico smirking with a med kit in hand. His mind faltered for a second wondering Where on earth did that come from before figuring that Nico had reached for it while they were pressed up against each other. He felt blood rush to his cheeks and his eyes darted anywhere but Nico’s face.

“What’s too quick?” Nico suddenly had Will’s hand in his and was stroking his hand softly, beckoning him to open it.His head was tilted downwards but he let his eyes catch a small glance of Will’s flushed face. Curtained by Nico’s dark and thick eyelashes, Will could see a sliver of light reflecting off the onyx eyes staring at him.

“Did you think something was going to happen?” Nico asked innocently as he began cleaning the wound. Will hissed at the sting of the antiseptics and so to distract himself, he answered Nico’s questions.

“No. I didn’t think anything was gonna happen.” Will winced again in pain. “ Could you be a bit lighter with that please?”

Nico mumbled out a ‘sorry’ and began applying a dressing around the hand he was holding. Will’s hand was freckled, with a golden tan that Nico could declare perfect. The freckles looked like rain spotted across his skin- so perfect, a force of nature.

But then the artistic side of Nico had another thought- the freckles look more like tear drops than rain. A force of humanity.

Nico continued talking, his voice lower. “ Did you want something to happen?”

Will wasn’t listening though. His mind was...away. Distracted. Missing.

Nico saw it in Will’s eyes, he saw it as the rain began to hit the window gently, killing it softly. He looked at Will again- it was killing him softly.

“Hey?”

Will shook his head and looked at Nico and let a smile overtake his face. “Sorry…. Tell me, how are you so good at this? What did your girlfriend mean when she said you were good at this?”

Nico sighed, ignoring the girlfriend comment but was still slightly hesitant. One secret couldn’t hurt him too much- after all, he was gonna be in and out of here and then he’d never see this cute guy ever again… or so, he thought so.

My sister and I, we used to go to summer camp. We got into a lot of fights there, learnt to stick up for ourselves- and I, well, I learnt how to clean up the aftermath of those fights.”

“I used to go to summer camp! Well, I was like 13 at the time.” Will beamed at Nico and pointed to his lip ring. “ Did that hurt? Oh, and you have a sister? Any other siblings?”

Nico gave Will an odd look. He’s asking me about myself? He wants to know more about me?

“Uh, well.. I have another sister. What about you?”

“Ah, that’s a good question.” Will shrugged.

“What, you don’t know?” Nico asked, his voice slightly confused. Will let out a little snort of laughter.

“My Dad’s good at one thing and it’s sleeping around, so god knows how many half siblings I’ve got lurking around.. For all I know, there could be a mini army of us.”

“Well, my Mum’s dead,” Nico offered. Will immediately looked at him with an alarmed look; Nico sighed in return and explained.

“I thought we were talking about dysfunctional families, maybe that would make you feel better.”

“As a future doctor, It really does not. Thanks for trying- although you might wanna see a therapist with your definition of ‘cheering someone up’.”

“Meh, I’d rather not. ” Nico batted his hand nonchalantly, the greek tattoo showing up in front of him again. Will’s eyes caught it but he still refused to say anything.

“You know,” Will’s voice was significantly lower when he spoke this time, borderline flirty. “You still haven’t told me if that lip piercing hurts.”

“Of course it hurt a bit, but I’ve gotten piercings and tattoos before that so it wasn’t as bad. And you’re done.” Nico gave Will his hand back. Will held it up, impressed with the job Nico had done.

“Nice wrapping. What does it feel like? Is it cold?”

“Kiss me and find out,” Nico mumbled under his breath, not intending for Will to hear- or course, Will did hear.

“Kissing someone in a dark and empty room calls for all kinds of trouble and potential situations.”

Nico felt his jaw drop and could feel the tips of his ears burn red. His eyes darkened and he could only hear Will’s teasing chuckle as he felt him slide a finger under his chin.

“Darling, close your mouth unless you intend to use it well,” Will murmured, his texan accent growing stronger. Normally he wasn’t this confident, but he decided to act on his impulses- besides, teasing people… it was fun sometimes.

Nico, knowing Will had caught him, was determined to get him back. He wrapped his hand around the back of Will’s head and yanked his head down and his head down to his lips so they could meet. For a second, Will was frozen in surprise, his eyes open and startled before he felt Nico’s lips moving against his, encouraging him to kiss back and relaxing while his eyes fell closed.

The kiss wasn’t calm or sweet, It was hard and rushed. It wasn’t special, it wasn’t magical, it was just the result of unresolved tension within two people madly attracted to each other. Will could feel the lip ring against his and relished in the cool feel of the ring compared to Nico’s hot lips. Nico’s other hand reached to pull Will closer and next thing he knew, he was lying with his back on the couch and with Will on top of him.

They paused for a second before slamming their lips together. Will slipped his un-injured hand under Nico’s shirt, feeling his body. His other hand went to his hair, wrapping his hand in it as if his life depended on it. He gripped with such ferocity, Nico thought he might rip some of his hair out.

Will teased Nico, tracing his tongue across the black haired boy's lips before lightly tugging on the lip ring in front of him. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting a full on moan from Nico.

Immediately, the two of them broke apart, panting and gasping for air. They stared at each other, their faces flushed and Nico could swear his ears had never been so red and hot as they were right now. Will was literally on top of him, now straddling him with his hands resting on Nico’s chest.

Nico covered his face with his hands and Will, on realising their position, got off him and settled for sitting next to him.

“Ah…. so,” Will started.

“So….”

“You’re a good kisser.” Nico looked at his shoes.

Will wanted to get it done and over- rip off the bandaid, right? “Are you going to tell your girlfriend?”

Nico gave him a questioning look. “What girlfriend?”

“The blonde girl you came in with?” Will scoffed. Dude’s got a thing for blondes. First that poor girl, now me. Who’s next? Jason? Octavian?

Nico let a bubble of laughter leave his lips as he tilted his head back. Annabeth, his girlfriend! What a ridiculous thought!

“Oh sunshine, you’ve got it all wrong. Annie is a good friend of mine, we’re here together because we’re getting flowers for her boyfriend.”

“She’s getting her boyfriend flowers that mean Fuck you?”

Nico shrugged. “They’re romantic like that.”

“So why are you here with her? Surely if she’s going to boldly tell her boyfriend fuck you in flower, she doesn’t need you to be here?”

Nico felt his cheeks grow hot. He rubbed the back of his head. “ Ah well, she uh, she said I’d like the guy who works here on weekends.”

“She wasn’t wrong, was she?”

“Watch yourself. You’re the person who almost willingly gave themselves tetanus,” Nico warned.

“Watch yourself- You’re the one who moaned when I touched your lip ring.”

“You were literally on top of me! You were straddling me and your hand was under my shirt, you were pulling at my hair and at my lip ring- how could I not moan?”

“It wouldn’t be that hard,” Will argued.

“We’re testing that next time.”

Will froze up at those words- next time. This god like guy with his beautiful locks and snarky comebacks wanted to see him again.

“Next time?”

“You think this is the last time you’re gonna see me?” Nico let out a little scoff to himself. “Trust me, you’re going to be seeing more of me and my friends then expected- In fact, you’ll probably get so sick of us by the time this year ends.”

“I’ll definitely look forward to it.” The sarcasm was evident in his voice. Nico rolled his eyes at the sarcasm and got up, reaching into the tight pockets of his jeans. He pulled out a hair tie and reached for Will’s hair before Will caught his wrist.

“I’m not that useless, I can still tie my hair ya know.”

“I was helping you, you’re welcome,” Nico snorted. They left the room and were met by a very smug Annabeth and annoyed Meg- The boys could tell theft was in trouble from the violent look on Meg’s face.

“What have you two been doing here? Please don’t tell me that I will have to bless this place after what you’ve done.” Meg sounded slightly desperate.

“Depends what you think would require blessing.” Will gave her a sweet smile.

“Will!” Meg complained. “ This is the 4th guy you’ve brought to the back room with you!”

Nico’s eyebrows shot up when he heard this. “ And here I was thinking I’m special.”

“You can’t talk either, mister. Poor Meg had to assemble the flowers herself because of you two,” Annbeth scolded holding the hateful bouquet of flowers in her grasp like her life depended on it- and if you wanted to be technical, Annabeth's pride was her life and these were going to prevent her pride from falling downhill, so yes- her life did depend on these flowers.

“He’s the one with 4 secret lovers!”

Will added quietly, “Those are only the ones I’ve been caught with.”

Nico gave a faux gasp of disbelief, his voice mimicking a tragically upset character. “ Like father, like son!”

“Fuck you,” Will grumbled.

“I fully intend to.”

“NOT HERE YOU TWO, TAKE IT OUTSIDE,” Meg screamed. “This place is a holy sanctuary- therer will be no sex of any sort in my shop!” The pair of the boys glanced at each other, walked outside and burst into laughter.

They, however, did not expect to see each other the next day at Uni.

[suntrastar]

sink or swim

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

summary: you first meet ransom when meg drags you along to a party. everything somehow spirals from there.

warnings: swearing, smut (but like very vague smut, nothing super explicit), ransom’s general assholery

word count: 9.3k

author’s note: i hate ransom drysdale! he is a shit character! if he existed irl i would whoop his ass with NO hesitation. but i still wrote this fic because ... a bitch gets thirsty okay?? okay. and ik this is very long BUT a lot of it is dialogue so it should flow pretty fast!!! likes and reblogs are always appreciated!!! ily now enjoy!!! you can also read this on ao3 :)

There’s something fun about being somewhere where no one wants you, and then something shameful. 

Meg isn’t touching you, but as she drags you around her famous grandfather’s mansion in search of people to bother, it feels like she has you on an invisible leash, fastened tight over your neck. To keep you tethered to her- like a fucking dog. 

The leash hurts like it is not made of plastic or metal but instead two hands squeezing tight, wringing you dry, choking you harder and harder and bruising you purple with no remorse.

Now, she’s debating political theory with her douchebag fuck of an uncle, who almost hits you once- almost hits you twice with his cane while waving it around as he quotes Fox News-

Their voices rise. You’re the only one that flinches.

Standing awkwardly on the edge, you wonder why you are the only guest at this terrible party that looks so lost. Meg gives you a covert this-is-total-bullshit glance, and a small, pained, rehearsed smile, both of which you have to return- that’s the real reason you’re here, after all- and her uncle rants on, wholly oblivious.

You look past them both, to where one man stands by himself.

He’s leaning against the far wall, and while Meg retaliates with some of her favorite words, including audacity and bigoted and problematic, you take a sudden, intense interest in the wallpaper pattern, sweeping your eyes over the span of it, looking over the man just once.

He is staring right back at you.

All it takes is his eyes- he’s just staring, but you’re absolutely embarrassed. 

He looks rich, with too much product in his hair and a coat that looks like it cost more than your rent, with loafers that expose an uncomfortable amount of ankle and an expression that morphs into something wolfish as he starts towards you-

Before you can think, he’s joined your little circle- Meg prefers standing, so of course, everyone stands- and smiles when she glares at him. 

He isn’t looking at you anymore.

“So,” he interrupts, and his voice is so dark, “what riveting political topic are we debating tonight?”

You should call an Uber. Why did you accept Meg’s offer of a ride?

“Ransom,” Meg says sweetly, “could you just, like, fucking not?”

This is supposed to be a Christmas party, but none of these people seem to be in the Christmas spirit. Including her uncle, with his stuffy sweater set and clunky-as-hell shoes. He sputters something about young people and their profanity, and then hastily leaves. 

Without thinking, you breathe out a heavy sigh of relief. 

The man smiles wider. Unfortunately, it makes him look very handsome.

”Ouch,” he says lightly, to Meg, and turns to you.

A shiver runs down your spine. 

You hate him immediately. 

“Who are you?” he asks.

For whatever reason, the question makes Meg scoff. She shakes her head at you- a warning. Her hair flounces with the movement.

Because she doesn’t want you to, you give him your name. And then add, because your name alone seems like a title too stripped down, “I’m Meg’s friend.”

It’s hard to convince yourself to be polite, when you don’t like how he’s been looking at you- with his eyes narrowed and brown furrowed and lips parted. He gives an insufferable nod.

“Right,” he says. “The one she’s been showing off all evening.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Ransom-” Meg starts, and suddenly you are so angry, at this man for confirming what you thought was all in your head, at Meg for suddenly swooping in to save you, like she’s been waiting for it-

“I guess,” you say, and smile a little, and regret everything.

“That’s pathetic,” he says, and looks at you kindly.

 Apparently, Meg is the only one allowed to be self-righteous in her annoyance, or anger, or any other mildly passionate emotion. She doesn’t return your covert this-is-total-bullshit glance. 

So you fend for yourself.

“Well, so is this fucking party, so-”

He interrupts you with a laugh. 

It’s loud and arrogant and mirthless, and you’ll climb out of a window, find a way to walk through the walls, if it means that you’ll escape it.

“I’m just joking,” he says, pursing his lips, and the hands on your neck, ever-present, nearly crush the breath out of you. “Don’t get your panties all in a twist.”

“So funny I forgot to laugh,” you say, and instead of replying, he just looks at you.

He looks at you slowly, like he has nothing better to do, like he has time to waste. You can smell him- some cologne that’s spicy, and expensive, and Meg is staring at you in shock, like you’ve committed a crime. 

But she’s quiet.

“I’m Ransom,” he says, and raises his hands to make little air quotes, which is weirdly adorable in a way that you hate, “Meg’s ‘asshole cousin’”

“Weird name,” you say. 

You’ve changed your mind- you’re not even going to attempt to be nice.

For a second, he looks furious.

It’s attractive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Anyways, I’m about to ditch. Do you want a ride?”

How does he know you came here with Meg?

He was staring at you from the wall-

From his butterscotch-colored coat with its awful, ostensible lapels, he pulls out his car keys. The BMW logo flashes silver and blue, clashing against the gold of his pinky ring, clinking against the metal as he twirls the key ring around his finger-

For a second, you think that he’s about to toss the keys across the room and command you to fetch.

“Um,” you say, uncertainly, irritated with your own restraint, “Thanks, but Meg will-”

“Meg will what?”

He’s mocking you, and there is no one to come to your rescue. 

Hesitantly, like she has to think twice about it, Meg opens her mouth to say something. What is her problem? What is your problem? Why are you treating her like she is your saving grace? 

You talk before she gets the chance. “Okay, yeah. A ride would be great.”

***

Ransom offers because he likes your face.

You’re better-looking than the girls that Meg usually brings along to these parties, or maybe his standards have fallen- he isn't sure. Does it really matter? Even though he’s been looking at you all night, even though he’s positively thrilled to have you in his car, he’s not going to try anything.

There’s something desperate in your eyes that compels him against it.

You inhale sharply when he turns left. 

“You forgot your turn signal,” you say, and he kind of likes how you chastise him, not angrily or even upset, but just exasperated-

How is someone like you friends with someone like Meg?

“Don’t worry about it,” he says lightly, and the tired glare you give him is enough to make his entire week.

Now that he thinks about it, his mother is always on his case about things like this- compassion and civility and basic human decency, and how he lacks it all, but what about now? He’s taking a miserable girl to her home, simply from the goodness of his own heart, with no strings attached. 

This is such a good deed- this is like charity.

His mother is also always telling him that he’s severely, almost clinically narcissistic.

He definitely is, but again, does it matter?

“So, what do you think about my family?” he asks, making a big, dramatic show of using his turn signal before swerving right, feeling too pleased when you smile. 

He steals a glance at your knees and somehow feels guilty.

He’ll have to do something about that.

“They’re pretty... lively,” you say hesitantly, and he’s suddenly hating the dark, this stupid fucking night- he’d like to see you better.

“Lively,” he repeats, and barks out a laugh. “They’re fucking crazy.”

You laugh, too, a real one- off-kilter, and too loud- none of that artificial shit he heard at the party. Nothing meant to please.

“I was definitely thinking that,” you say. He catches you looking at his hands, but boldly, you don’t look away. “I just didn’t want to be rude.”

“Now you’re worried about being rude?”

“I’m in a car with a strange guy I’ve never met before, so yeah.”

You’re smiling but look uncomfortable, and then afraid.

All bark and no bite- you’ve been talking all this talk, when really, he realizes, you’re so washed-out, so faint, like the bare sliver of moon out in the sky, the same weak moon he’s been cursing out. The same stars, too- you are just as scattered.

You look pretty.

“Are you scared?”

He keeps his eyes on the road because he thinks you’ll snap at him if he doesn’t. Not like anyone drives out here anyway- not like he can’t pay off a ticket or two or five-

“Should I be?”

There is something so delicious about this moment, with you starting to worry- he can’t look at the road anymore, not when he can watch your throat bob as you swallow instead, and it still feels so violating, but so good. 

“Nope,” he says, and you startle when you hear him say it, and he has to bite his cheek to keep himself from smiling. “No need.”

“Great,” you say, and go quiet. 

When he pulls up to your apartment complex, not too far from where he lives, he holds his mouth in check. He could say so many things right now, but for you, he restrains himself.

You have your bag in hand, seatbelt off. From the streetlight, the planes of your face look waxy yellow.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say. 

Your hand is on the door handle, nails glittering. He can’t make out the color of the polish.

While looking at it, a sudden urge overcomes him.

And he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he wants to, so bad. It’s borderline frantic, the desire- it’s necessary and all-important and crucial, for him and his basic peace of mind, and maybe for you, too-

Who is he to deny himself?

“Wait,” he says, even though the door is open and you have half of yourself out the door. 

The cold is slowly seeping in, bone-chilling.

You wait.

“Let me just,” he says, and can’t bring himself to say anything else.

He reaches out for your waxen face with one hand and presses it firmly against your cheek.

Under his touch, you shiver. He fans out his fingers to hold you better. 

Your eyes are wide. He thinks you look a bit horrified- horrified with yourself for not resisting, maybe.

But he closes his eyes as he leans in, so it doesn’t matter.

He turns your head for you, a bit forcefully. You don’t protest.

He kisses your cheek.

When he pulls back and opens his eyes, you’re staring at him with your mouth in a perfect circle.

“Uh,” you say, and suddenly look away and out into the night, and it makes him angry, even though it should be flattering, “Merry Christmas.”

*** 

You don’t think about Ransom as much as he probably would have wanted- life picks up too fast.

In the last days of the year, Meg calls you and texts you and even goes so far as to send a few emails, but finally, you seem to have found the self-respect to not respond- consider that ridiculously wealthy bridge burned. 

In January, your brother leaves to study for a semester abroad. All the walls in your small apartment are suddenly looming, standing high over you, standing empty. You try to shove off the loneliness by studying harder, by staying distracted.

In February, you have the same dream nearly every night- you’re sitting outside on a porch in the sun and for some reason there’s a bird on your head, and in your lap there’s a clock whose hands don’t work, and you’re wearing a heavy necklace made of gold links that jingle, and you’re so happy. 

Does the bird count as company?

In early March, while you’re watering your plants, your phone rings with an unknown number. 

You shouldn’t pick up unknown numbers.

You pick up.

“Hello?”

“Remember me?” 

His voice nearly gives you whiplash.

It’s dark and harsh, faceless and yet as arrogant as ever. 

“Hi, Ransom,” you say, and think of the night in the car for the first time since, think of how he gripped your face so hard that his ring left an imprint. “How the hell do you have my number?”

“Meg gave it to me,” he says smugly. “She says hi.”

You wonder what Meg thinks you did to her. It’s obviously something bad, something terrible, if she so willingly gave your number to this pretty-faced, pretty-voiced, ugly-coat-wearing asshole-

“Awesome,” you say plainly. You don’t want to talk about her. “Do you, like, need something, or-”

“I want to take you out,” he says.

You laugh and your grip on your pitcher slips, sloshing water over the edge.

“You’re joking.”

He is, right? 

He takes an impatient breath that, for some reason, sounds inappropriate. “I’m serious.”

“Ransom,” you say, slowly, “I don’t even know you.”

“Then get to know me,” he says testily, and you can perfectly picture him, sitting in some colossal brownstone his parents bought him, while a butler daintily dabs the sweat from his brow with an embroidered handkerchief. “Tonight.”

You’ve overwatered your marigolds. 

Has his voice really swept you this far away?

“No,” you say, and shake your head, even though he can’t see it. “No fucking way.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, like you’re the one being unreasonable. “You have anything better to do?”

You don’t, but you take a deep breath and prepare yourself to lie-

“I’ll treat you good,” he suddenly says, and his voice is low and sticky-sweet, dripping with honey. “I promise.”

He says it in a way that makes your knees weak.

You physically have to sit down- he knows how to get what he wants.

Could you actually do this?

Could you go out on a date with a crude, pretentious, trust-fund piece of trash, who probably thinks you’re easy, who’s only calling you because he’s bored, who has already subtly insulted you twice in this conversation alone-

-who got your number from his cousin that you both decidedly dislike, who kissed your cheek like you were pretty in the dark of the night, in his cold car?

“Fine,” you say. “Take me out.”

***

He doesn’t tell you that you look nice- he just stares.

There is something predatory in his eyes.

You’re out on a Wednesday night with a bad man, wasting your time, trying to get something out of nothing, smiling a fake smile when he orders you a drink you don’t like, already irritated with him, and trying too hard to stop looking at his face.

How are you actually interested?

You tell him that you’re in medical school.

“Really,” he says, like he doesn’t believe you. “You don’t strike me as that kind of girl.”

Underneath the table, you clench your hands for some sense of control, but still feel like you’re spinning. “What kind of girl?”

“Smart,” he says, and picks up his drink. The glass sweats beads of condensation, wetting the tips of his fingers. “I didn’t know you were smart.”

You shouldn’t dignify his flimsy insult with a response- he’s just trying to get a rise out of you, trying to make you roll your eyes or scowl or shiver. He wants you unsettled. 

But the moral high ground is, unfortunately, too high.

“And I didn’t know that you’re such a terrible date.”

His teeth gleam white when he smiles. He knows.

He knows that he can say whatever the hell he wants, because he has money, and those eyes, and that insufferably nice rich-boy hair, and that sweater with its charmingly frayed hems, and that voice- he has everything, and then some, and he’s about to have you, too, if he keeps on looking at you like he already does.

“You’re so sweet,” he says. 

“Fuck off.”

He winks and you could cry, you’re so fucking bothered-

You’re not usually this uptight, but he has you so drastically wound up that every little thing he does, even how he’s sitting- body sprawled, manspreading- is fire licking up on your skin, scorching-hot and ruining you with no remorse, like you have done something to deserve it.

When his eyes trail down, from your eyes to your mouth to your neck to below, you are so acutely aware of wanting him that you feel guilty. Like it’s a crime.

***

You don’t seem like the type of girl to fuck on the first date. 

So, of course, Ransom tries to fuck on the first date.

As you stand outside the restaurant, in your dress and strappy sandals, you look so tense that he wants to laugh.

 He can’t help it, because this whole thing you have going on- this weariness you approach everything with, this attitude- is so funny. Maybe, in any other situation, it would be irritating, but he’s been so bored lately that it’s stirring.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” he asks, quietly, taking a step closer to you so that at this very moment, under the waning sun, you should be able to just lean up and kiss him-

You blink slowly and keep your silence.

This is fucking tedious.

This should be so easy- all he has to do is settle his hands somewhere soft and let time pass, and then before he knows it you’re there and under and begging. But he can’t bring himself to touch you just yet, not when his head is calling you pathetic, and his heart calls you-

His heart just calls you.

You start to answer, and then hesitate. All five stages of grief flicker over your face at once- denial to acceptance in the same breath. 

“Sure,” you say, unevenly, desperately-

When you step inside his house, your eyes go wide. As you take it in- the decor, the windows, the excess, he locks the door behind him and takes you in.

You step further inside, and he thinks of where it would be best, but then your eyes crease as you smile- it’s impossible to wait when your smile looks like that- and so he backs you right into the closest wall, cups your face with both of his hands and kisses you.

He kisses you and you curl your hands over his shoulders and immediately kiss back, and he is taken aback and delighted. 

And he knew- the entire time at dinner when you were making eyes at him like you couldn’t believe that you were actually sitting there, present in that moment- he knew that secretly, you’re a freak. He knew it- he knows it.

He hopes it.

“Let me fuck you,” he whispers, right into your mouth, when your heart has been beating right into his for a while, “Let me fuck you right here.”

You bite his lip.

He takes a hand away from your face and reaches under your dress fast, rucking it all the way up your thighs, trailing up to touch you-

“Fuck,” you gasp, and arch your back up against the wall, and he grips you a little tighter-

He presses a finger into you- pushing aside your underwear and, good grief, you’re already wet- harshly, and pulls away from your mouth, so he can watch your face. 

The lines creasing your forehead look like poetry.

He thinks he likes you. It’s a shame he had to meet you through Meg- it would be nice if he had met you somewhere else, on his own. 

That way, he’d be able to waltz in one day, to another insipid family gathering, with you tucked under his arm. You, with your promise of a medical degree and your strappy sandals, and your iron grip on his shoulders and your drawn out breath of a moan-

The looks on their faces would be priceless.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, and he’s a little irritated at how cracked his voice sounds, but it’s the right thing to say- you swear again and he picks up his pace, pressing hard on your clit. “If you’ll be good to me.”

“I’ll-” you say, and you’re actually stuttering, and breaking out into a lovely sweat, still forced back into the wall with his hand and body. He leans closer, so he can’t tell where you and him and the wall start and end. “I’ll be- fuck, Ransom-”

You still have your arms wrapped around him, like an embrace. He keeps one hand between your thighs, your dress pooling over his arm like water, and uses his other to work at his belt buckle.

This is also funny- you stay exactly how you are, even though at that moment, there is nothing holding you back.

***

The world is begging for you to consider your actions.

But you don’t. You know that when he offers, you’ll meet him again.

It should be too late. You’re exhausted, from a day full of lectures and an evening spent in a lab, working as a professor’s research assistant, and then studying for a few hours in the library- all you really want to do is sleep. 

But then he calls.

The night is suddenly brimming with possibility, and you’ve never been more awake.

On a whim, Ransom suggests ice cream, and because you can’t bring yourself to deny him, you end up at a place that you would never go for- where everything is handmade and served in thick paper cups with multicolored plastic spoons, but he pays, because of his stupid ego or fragile masculinity or whatever the hell, so you don’t care.

He stands next to you as you order, and his shoulder keeps on brushing into yours. You can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not. In the glass shield that the tubs of ice cream sit behind, you’re both reflected, your body warped and tall, his body warped and taller. In the glass, his eyes meet yours.

The tension is strong- it’s only a matter of time.

Your heart flutters.

When you sit, he bumps his knees against yours- you’re sure it’s on purpose, now, but you don’t say anything. What even is there to say? 

That you like it? 

When he digs into his ice cream, the plastic spoon- a green one- snaps in his hand.

 And because you’re so caught up in your own ridiculous thoughts, before he can go back up to get another, you pull your own from your mouth- a pink one- and offer it to him.

The proposition makes him smile.

Why does he smile like that? Each movement, each twitch of muscle is so perfectly detached and coordinated- it’s violent. 

But he still takes the spoon from you gently, with a soft hand. 

He’s too pretty to be mean, you think, but against any type of judgement- not just the better kind- you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You let yourself laugh and he scowls. 

“This place sucks,” he says, like he isn’t the one who chose it.

He adjusts the womens’ scarf he’s always wearing, carefully arranging it over himself so it looks like it was carelessly thrown on. The blue in the paisley print brings out his eyes- it makes him look so stupidly hot that you start to get angry.

You just shrug. “Suck it up, buttercup.”

He puts your spoon in his mouth and looks at you.

Again, the night ends at his place- this time on an actual bed, because you ask for it, and you think he likes how you look when you ask for things in the current state state you’re in-

He fucks you in the dark, and swears into your ear, and is not kind or soft in any way, but after he finishes, he takes the time to kiss the spot in between your breasts, and you think that maybe he isn’t entirely horrible. The bedsheets are cool against your skin, and his mouth is always hot.

You leave without a word.

***

He takes you out this time, in a real, urgent show of wealth- he picks you up in his fancy car, takes you to a fancy restaurant where the numbers next to the fancy menu items are all appalling, where he spends the whole time making these awful, unfunny innuendos that still manage to rile you up, because they’re coming from his mouth-

On the way back, while waiting at a stoplight, you take a deep breath and brace yourself before looking at him.

He really is gorgeous- all lazy grace and harsh angles. The light colors his face red, red in his eyes and in the plane of his cheekbone and in the slope of his mouth- like a beautiful warning sign. His hands are carelessly draped over the steering wheel and, despite the warning, you reach out and trace a finger over his knuckles. 

His whole body jerks.

You quickly draw your hand back.

“What?” he asks sharply. He’s staring at you like you’re crazy.

You don’t know why this is suddenly so fucking embarrassing, all you did was touch him- but you suddenly feel terrible, and-

“Nothing,” you say, with the same tone, and whip your head away from him to the window, where you smolder in the dark and furiously stare at nothing.

The light turns green. He takes his foot off the break and all but slams it on the gas pedal, driving as atrociously as ever, looking over at you for a split second when you don’t protest. The blood rushing in your ears is too loud for you to think- you can’t form any words.

Once it subsides, marginally, you add, “Sorry.”

His jaw tenses.

You look back over at him, at his ring, and imagine it pressing into your neck.

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” he suddenly asks- suddenly demands, with a blazing authority that makes your stomach do flips.

You don’t know what answer he wants. “Um, one time I snuck out of-“

“Let’s do something crazier.”

On an abandoned road, he pulls over, and then you’re under him in the backseat- doing something crazier. 

You might have some type of psychic tendencies, because his ring presses heavy into your neck as he pushes himself inside you, starting at a bruising pace, and then he says your name in the dark, and he looks so beautifully flushed, startling when you grab his hair, laughing when your hand accidentally skims his thigh, smiling when you come-

You wish you had the resolve to put an end to this.

You wish you could stay when it’s over.

***

You don’t like his house.

It’s not the brownstone you imagined, but rather a huge, minimalistic box, with too many windows and spotless paint and modern wood fixtures. Ransom has all of these customary rich-person things, including stately furniture and eclectic art pieces and tall shelves stuffed with books, but owning any actual personality has escaped him.

Standing in his house feels like standing in an empty room- it’s all so apathetic.

Still, you show up when he calls.

You haven’t done anything this bad before. 

But there’s a first time for everything, right? First time for enjoying bruises and biting and an unwavering grip on your neck or hips or waist or thighs, first time leaving something so intense so awkwardly.

Each time is worse than the last, with the awkwardness spiraling, accruing beyond reason, and each time you struggle with what to say- even now, you just do your best to stay quiet as you start to get up, reaching for your clothes-

Ransom drapes a heavy arm over you before you have the chance.

“You can stay,” he says flippantly, and then shifts to pull you close to him, so that you are suddenly lying bare-backed against his chest, so that his sweat-slick body and heartbeat imprints itself on your skin.

Is he asking?

You crane your head over your shoulder to get a look at him.

He returns your stare like he’s been waiting for it. 

His face is still flushed pink and a lock of hair hangs low over his forehead, and if you were any braver, you would comb a hand through it, gently, with no real intentions. He’s breathtaking. Even the new, foreign purple under his eyes is a sight- pretty like something you would want to kiss.

“You want me to stay?”

He rolls his eyes and tilts his head back. You would lick the sweat from the divots of his neck, if he asked you to.

“Or leave, if you want. I could care less.”

He cares

You know it because his grip is unwavering, because the terseness in his eyes is enough to make you look away.

Eventually, you settle a hand over his arm and try your best not to tremble. Ransom mumbles something under your breath- you can’t make any of it out, but you don’t ask him to repeat it, for the fear that it’ll upset this fragile bedroom balance you’ve so painstakingly built yourself into-

He wants you to stay. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, because you don’t think he is.

He inhales. You feel his chest against you; it’s shaky. You wonder, for a second, about who he might actually be, underneath the arrogance and egotism and constant need to be an asshole- is he someone you could like without feeling bad about it?

“Yeah,” he says, and throws his other arm over you, so that he is holding you. “Why?”

There isn’t a genuine bone in this man’s body, but he genuinely sounds confused.

It’s possible that you’re the one who isn’t okay.

“Because,” you say, and take a great leap of faith- holding your bare heart in your hands, you turn to face him.

You’re fully exposed and subjected to his gaze- it’s nearly eviscerating. His eyes dip down to your chest and something like insecurity flares in your chest. It’s awful and terrible and you urgently want to kiss him on the lips.

He always kisses you first. You don’t know if you have it in you to kiss him yet. 

You wouldn’t ever try, in case you don’t.

“You look kind of tired,” you say, and his eyes bore into you with a sinking weight, threatening to drown. One of his hands finds a blooming bruise on your skin and lightly presses. He doesn’t react when you wince. The action is still kind- almost tender.

He sighs, and it is such a delicate breath, fanning hot over your skin. 

“I’m not tired,” he says, almost childishly.

You might be overstepping. But you don’t even know where the lines have been drawn. 

“Okay,” you say, and because you would not dare kiss his lips, you lean close and kiss his jaw instead.

He startles and then gives you a crooked, lazy smile. He is everything good, you think- for this one moment. Pretty and soft-handed and made of glass and honey and all other lovely things.

You tuck your head in the crook of his neck and wrap an arm over his, tight, so he knows you are there, and hope for the best.

***

In your spare moments, you’re always thinking.

Ransom knows this because of how you look when you do it- your brow furrows and your eyes go glassy, and you frown with an intensity that he has never seen on anyone else.

It happens when you finish a sentence, when you have no response for him, when he is still talking but you’ve stopped listening. When you think it’s quiet.

It never happens during sex- is it pathetic to take pride in that?

As he stands in your apartment for the first time ever, you look like you’re in near-despair, like your thoughts are wreaking havoc on your mind, destructive and distressing. You wear basketball shorts and a college sweatshirt and glasses.

He didn’t know you wore glasses, and that you looked like this in them- he’s been missing out.

“Hi,” you say, and stare at him with troubled eyes.

Your apartment is so small. He almost feels claustrophobic, standing in here. When was the last time he willingly stood somewhere so small?

The lengths he’ll go to, for… 

For you, he supposes.

“Hi,” he says, and wonders, also for the first time ever, what it is that you’re always thinking. “Why do you have so many plants?”

On the windowsill, with even spacing in between, sits an entire row of glass jars housing plants- all singular flower stems, some budding, some in bloom. The petals of a marigold brush against the window, orange against the grey outside. It’s cute, he absently thinks, in a struggling, shabby type of way.

“It’s just something I do for fun,” you say, sounding irritated. “Like, a hobby.” 

Infringing on the living room space is a small table, cluttered with textbooks and pens and an open laptop with its screen dark.

It still baffles him that you’re smart.

“So,” you start, and cross your arms over your chest. He feels kind of offended, because he’s just realized that he really only knows a handful of things about you, and even that handful is sparse, slipping through his fingers. “Why’d you want to see me?”

He called on impulse. 

He’s just- he’s in what someone could call a mood, where he hates everything and has the intense desire to ruin something, and while he was thinking of how to fix it- beyond just getting wasted- he thought of you.

And when he called, you were sounding so tired and so he even said he could just meet you here, so you wouldn’t have to drive, so you could squeeze in a few more minutes of studying before he inevitably invades your mind-

Easily, he deflects. Nearby, there’s a hallway with two doors, one of which is tightly closed shut.

“What’s in there?” he asks, and points towards it.

You relax, slightly.

He wants to gather you up in his arms, but he doesn’t know for whose sake- his or yours?

“That’s my brother’s room,” you say, and your shoulders slump, and he resists the urge to pull you upright, and the urge to gawk. Brother? “He lives with me. But he’s studying abroad this semester.”

“Where?”

“Prague.”

He nods. This is a stiff, perfect, shocking distraction. “Nice city.”

You nod distantly and head back to the table to put your things away.

“Yeah,” you say, after too long of a pause, as you start to cap pens and set them aside. You look at him as you do it, and so you miss a few times, accidentally drawing dark lines of ink all over your fingers. “I’m glad he got to go. When we were kids, he was obsessed with wanting to travel- he had this entire map in our room, and he would draw stars over every country he wanted to visit, and there were, like, a hundred of them, and he could list every single one, in the exact order he wanted to visit, and he could even list the capitals- I’m sorry. You probably don’t care about any of this.”

He doesn’t.

Or, he shouldn’t, but your eyes are clearer, and as you neatly stack your textbooks in an order only known to you, he is almost intrigued.

He’s longing for you- when you are right there.

He feels like a person outside of himself, when you look at him and smile tiredly.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

There’s a cheesy ‘90s horror movie you find after a few minutes of channel surfing, complete with terrible special effects and edited-out profanity. The days are longer, now, and to stop the sun from casting a glare over the screen, you close all the blinds. It adds to the atmosphere, you say lightly, fully phased out of whatever just possessed you, and his hands are so itchy- itching to do something.

He sits. Patience is a virtue, but he is not virtuous, and so when you sit next to him and bring your knees to your chest, making yourself small, he goes to-

Something in his stomach stops him. 

It’s butterflies- is he actually nervous?

This is so fucking infuriating.

You’ve got him trapped in some type of pain-and-power-play, some type of unassuming purgatory, and all he can bring himself to do is lightly brush a hand against your shoulder. You smile at his touch and his heart fucking breaks.

As the second boy in the friend group gets murdered onscreen, you close your eyes and duck your head into your knees.

“Tell me when it’s over,” you say, voice muffled.

“Scaredy-cat,” he says, even though this is no time for jokes. 

You crack one eye open, looking only at him, and give him the finger.

Come here, he almost demands. The butterflies protest- he holds his tongue.

The dance continues. When the sun sets, everything darkens, settling into a dim blue. You look like something out of a painting. Faintly sad, unusually serene. The skin around your eyes has smoothened- you’ve stopped thinking so hard and he can suddenly breathe easier because of it-

And then there’s a jumpscare, and he shouts, “Jesus!”

The murderer has broken down a door, and all of the remaining characters are screaming, and you burst out laughing.

He’s in the middle of a crisis, and you’re laughing.

You lean into him as you laugh, with your head turned away from the screen and your eyes open, looking at him so fondly that he suddenly feels violated, and you let your shoulder brush against his.

“Scaredy-cat” you tease, and it’s absolutely now or never-

You’re making him weak- it takes too much time and effort for him to draw an arm over you.

You don’t flinch, but he is sure that you can hear his heart beating dangerously fast, without abandon, like it's trying to break free of his ribcage. He almost gasps when you come even closer and lightly kiss his cheek, wrapping your arms around him, and his head is just saying yes yes yes-

Your mouth goes over his ear, lips ghosting over skin. He waits, more scared than he’s ever been in his entire life, for what you have to say. 

***

So this is Ransom’s deep, dark, ugly secret.

He likes to be cuddled.

If it were anyone else, you would laugh.

But it’s Ransom, and so you just take it in stride, as part of his extremely fucked-up psyche that is probably a result of a hundred things he’ll never tell you- childhood trauma and neglect and the consequences that come with having more money than you need or deserve.

He’s always talking, always talking shit, always talking over you and over everyone else, and you realize, one day, that he really only is treading water- he’s only focused on staying afloat, speaking whatever he wants, but never actually saying anything.

He’s responsible for his faults, of course. But still, when he smiles in low light or curls his hands over yours so viciously, you don’t know if you should leave, or if you should just stay and pity him quietly.

You’re starting to like him too much to even care.

He starts coming around more. And he actually stays, and starts leaving pieces of himself behind. He has a toothbrush next to yours and a phone charger on his side of the bed and imported, undoubtedly expensive snacks in the kitchen.

He leaves clothes, too- you wash them with yours and keep them, neatly folded, in your closet.

On a warm day in May, he meets you at a cafe.

He does most of the talking, like always. It’s been months, already, but you still find it difficult to start conversations.

You still have trouble telling him certain things without feeling like you have to defend yourself, and he still rarely deviates from being a total dick, even when you hold him or have his head in your lap, when you make him laugh or when you kiss him.

Or when you put your hands in the sleeves of his sweaters and rub your palms against his forearms, because he’s always running warm and your hands are always cold. 

He always acts like it annoys him, jumps when your hands meet his skin- but you know he secretly likes it, because whenever you’re done he pulls the hems all the way over his hands and looks at you with something amazed in his eyes.

With the weather warming up, he’s ditched the sweaters and taken to wearing these awful fucking short-sleeved button-downs, all unnecessarily tight and showing way too much collarbone. He’s making you sweat.

“You’re staring,” he says, and smiles, self-satisfied.

You bring your straw to your lips and shake your head. “I’m not.”

He knows that you can’t help it- he is always so gorgeous. He’s infuriatingly pretty.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, and nudges your foot under the table, voice suddenly low, and it’s like, holy shit-

You bring your drink down and lean over the table, careful to avoid knocking anything over, and kiss him quickly.

He tastes like bitter coffee.

You’re sad, all of a sudden.

When you settle back in your seat, you clear your throat like nothing happened. You want to lean in again and button up the rest of his shirt, and kiss him again. You want to come so close that your noses touch, and then yell at him, just for being him.

He looks appalled

“What was that for?”

It’s the first time you’ve ever done this.

“No reason,” you say. “I just felt like it.”

“You just felt like it,” he repeats, and it’s like the same reaction from the night at the stoplight, and you realize-

He’s dumbstruck.

Then, just as quickly as it came, it disappears. He sets his jaw like he’s about to get up and leave. You try not to scowl, even though you feel like you’re drifting, tide carrying you away, sand clean and smooth on where your body once was-

It gets to you.

“Can I not just kiss you?” you snap harshly, glaring at him with a ferocity you don’t think he’s ever seen.

It’s inevitable- the result of months of frustration. You can only suppress yourself for so long. Why, you want to ask, why are you not entitled to him the way he is to you and everything else? Can you not ask for him so wholly?

He flinches.

Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire, flinches.

It brings a small sliver of satisfaction with it. There’s some nerve you’ve struck, and the discontent on his face is steadily growing- 

You pay it no mind, drinking the rest of your iced coffee in calm silence. 

Outside, the day is vaguely summery, where the sun is out and strong, but still too cold in the shade. You stare past his head, towards the door. How quickly can you leave?

“You can,” he says quietly, when you’re rising to throw your cup in the trash. “Whenever you want.”

His eyelashes are so long- they command a moment of attention all on their own when he blinks- soft and slow and gazing at you from underneath them. You wonder if he is doing this for the same reason you are. If he’s lonely, too.

When was the last time you had the dream with the bird?

You smirk. “Whenever?”

He is forlorn. 

You like him better in the spring.

“Whenever.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you say, and make your voice low, since two can play at that game.

He considerably perks up. 

*** 

When you wake up, he’s still in your bed.

Lately, he’s been spending more time at your place than his. You think that all those windows are finally starting to get to him.

Ransom always holds you fiercely in his sleep. You break free as gently as you can and take him in for a brief moment- you like how he looks when he’s asleep. Unconcerned, chest rising slow with each breath, hair splayed over the pillow in nearly every direction. He almost looks innocent.

You get up quietly, even though there’s no chance he’ll stir- he sleeps like the dead.

Daylight filters through the blinds in white-yellow streams, dappling him golden. 

You almost take a picture, but regretfully leave the room for other tasks- you stretch and water your plants and check your email, and then sit down at the table to Skype your brother.

He picks up fast.

“Hey!” you say, and at once feel so much relief, to see his grainy, smiling face on your laptop screen.

Europe has done him good- he’s grown out his hair, and his skin is glowing, and he looks so happy.

He tells you about what he’s been doing lately, studying architecture. It makes you so proud, this fact alone- that unlike you, he can do whatever he wants and doesn’t have the looming promises of debt and academic burnout and crushing, ever-present stress hovering over his shoulders. It is so good to see him, and you are so grateful that he can be who he wants to be, do what he wants to do-

“Holy shit, who is that?”

He’s looking past you. You turn around and almost jump- 

Ransom stands in the kitchen, shirtless and rummaging through the cupboards. He waves at you.

You would think that someone like Ransom would exclusively sleep in, like, silk pajama sets, or something, but at least he’s in sweatpants- however low-rise they might be, however loosely knotted the drawstring is. It’s better than nothing, at least- what if he had walked out in nothing?

When you turn back to the screen, you catch a glimpse of yourself in your camera feed- you look absolutely mortified.

You are absolutely mortified. This is the start of what can only be a nightmare.

“Are you dating that guy?” your brother asks incredulously. He’s still staring at Ransom with his jaw hanging loose. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“No,” you say forcefully, without thinking. “That’s, um... “

Hopelessly, you gesture back towards him, trying to come up with the words. Nothing feels right in your mouth- every title you can come up with is too consequential, too heavy.

“...That’s Ransom.”

“Weird name,” your brother says, and grins.

You take a breath that feels more like a gasp. “I know.”

“Hey,” Ransom says, from the back, and continues to loudly open and close the cupboards- what the fuck is he even looking for? You don’t keep enough shit in there to warrant this much noise- he’s doing this for theatrics.

“I think I’m going to go,” you say loudly. “Love you.”

“Bye,” your brother says, and he’s grinning stupidly, like a madman.

You disconnect and feel like you might faint.

Not your boyfriend, right?

“Was that your brother?” Ransom asks, casually, finally finding what he was looking for- two mugs. There is no way that he didn’t come across them earlier. 

“Yeah- yes,” you say shakily. It feels like someone has filled your brain with fizzy water.

There’s a few boys your brother has met over the years, but you’ve always been careful. Because an introduction is like making a statement- it’s like saying that this person you’re with is important enough to you that they’re going to overlap, exist in more than just one part of your life.

But Ransom is a catastrophe of a person- you can barely handle him as he is. How could you ever have him as anything more?

He goes through the cupboards, again, and finds a box of teabags. “The one studying abroad?”

“I only have one brother,” you snap.

“Okay,” he says, totally unbothered, surprising you. He’s not a morning person in the slightest- why is he being so cordial? “Where do you keep your kettle?”

“Second cupboard on the right,” you say, and bury your head in your hands.

He looks at you. He is so many things, but never kind, until now. His hair, in its adorable bedhead, flops over his eyes. Before, it was only almost, but now, you think, he looks completely innocent, like the type of guy you could give kisses without feeling nervous, the type of guy you wouldn’t deny as your boyfriend.

What is wrong with him?

What is wrong with you?

At the end of the day, he’s always there- you’re exclusive, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough to deserve a title?

He finds the kettle, and then sifts through the box. He sorts through different flavors with a gentle precision you’ve never seen before- is this really him? Is he the type of person that is gentle and precise?

The uneven smattering of blue-black bruises on your thighs say no.

You’re so confused that your head hurts.

“None of these flavors are any good,” Ransom says, and shakes his head. His hair shines in the morning light. “Earl Grey- who the hell drinks Earl Grey?”

“Don’t insult my tea like that,” you say, and he looks back at you and gives you a brilliant flash of a smile.

If he’s bothered at all by your denial, he never brings it up.

*** He’s too far gone.

He’s in freefall, feeling weak- he’s fucking succumbed.

To you. To your comebacks and the world-weary gaze you have of everything, to your nonsensical collection of plants and your painfully unattractive basketball shorts, to the way you laugh too loud and too little, to the way you say his name, where he can never tell if you’re happy with him or exasperated-

It’s wrong. 

But, he thinks, so are all of these other things, like drugs and alcohol and blowing money on shit he doesn’t need- and you make him feel better than any of those things ever have, so why should anybody have a problem with it? A week goes by after you tell your brother that he isn’t your boyfriend- and it doesn’t bother him, because he’s never wanted that title in the first place, never has- but it obviously bothers you. 

You’re disappointed in yourself, because you think you’re supposed to be better than him, because you’re so smart and he is so terrible.

He hopes that that’s not how you actually think. It hurts him to0 much to even consider it, and so he doesn’t, and so he thinks of how to keep his hold on you, and then he thinks of why he even wants to-

The truth is too apparent to deny.

After a week, he calls.

***

He’s very slow.

Not tired- just consumed with the sudden need to savor things. When you let yourself into his arms, Ransom treats you like you’re fragile.

“What’s up with you?” you ask, and as he stares, your voice reduces to something small. You go timid when his eyes are on yours, he realizes, and the thought sends a thrill through his body- he slowly rocks you, to calm himself.

Your shirt is off and you wear a bra with a small lace trim- not racy, but very cute- and he just keeps on staring.  

Wow, he thinks. He fucked up good.

“Nothing,” he says, and moves one hand from your waist- he has you in his lap, straddling him- up to the top of your neck. He trails down and over to your collarbone, hooking a finger into your bra strap.

You laugh, breathy and indecent.

He lifts it, subtly, and you whine, and he bites back his own.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, and kisses your neck. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Ransom,” you gasp, with your hands splayed over his back. He slowly skims his hand over, to your back, feeling every little thing, dip and contour and curve, everything- and then unhooks it, and you are bared to him and he is breathless.

He takes you by the shoulders and twists, to bring you down, to pin you against the bed. Your comforter is dark blue, like ocean water.

Your eyes are endless, like ocean water.

“Are you upset about something?” 

Your chest rises and falls and he almost reaches for the waistband of your underwear, but stops himself. He presses a wet kiss to one of your breasts, and you arch into his mouth. He feels like you know every single secret of his, when he has told you none.

You know by accident that he’s ticklish. That’s it.

“I’m not,” he says. “I promise.”

He bends low to kiss down the length of your body, repositions his hands to hold your waist. He thinks that this is more intense- it is just his mouth and your skin and the sound of your breath hitching.

He still has it put together, remarkably well- unfathomably well.

“I feel like there’s something you’re- ah- not telling me, honey.”

That does it.

He grips your waist harder, in the way he knows you always like, so that tomorrow he will be able to retrace his steps, follow the blue-

“Say that again,” he says, and presses a soft kiss over you- even through your underwear, with its delicate lace trim, he can feel how wet and wanting and ready you are for him.

“Say- fuck- say what?”

Your hand flails, for a second, before you thread it through his hair, and yank. It hurts, pleasantly.

He hooks his fingers into your waistband and shimmies it down your thighs, and you instinctively spread your legs. He puts his mouth to your slit, slicker than he imagined, and the heady arousal rushing through his mind- and everywhere else- is nearly enough to make him forget what you even said-

He is quite possibly drunk off of you alone, and he wants to slap himself, and, like, press you so close into him that you forget your way out.

With the spare glow of one lamp, you look like you’re made of gold.

He breaks away from you for a terrible moment to strip, and with one hand he teases your clit, and with the other he pumps himself, hard, once, twice, three times in anticipation-

“Don’t make me ask again,” he says, and comes back up to cup your face once more, and slips his hand back down into you at the same time, with his cock hard against your thigh- this is all quite slippery- the game you’re playing at and the risk he’s trying to take-

“Honey,” you say, and you’re smiling deliriously, but shakily. “Honey honey honey.”

“You’re killing me,” he says, and his voice, in a moment of terrible, vulnerable, unspeakable betrayal, cracks. 

“Good,” you say, but your voice is all wobbly as he lines himself up and roughly pushes into you, holding you a little tighter to keep you steady. “You deserve it.”

He kisses you openmouthed, with his teeth scraping- it’s rough and jarring, the way you always take it. Against his mouth, you swear incoherently, stringing together a litany of curses with his name thrown in between, and goddamn him- it makes him smile.

He wastes no time- he can’t be patient any longer, not when he has you under him like this, and so he goes fast, snapping into you at a bruising pace and keeping his mouth close, and rubbing at your clit, to overstimulate you and make everything faster, harsher, more immediate-

When you come you always say his name, thickly with gravel in your voice, and gasp like the breath has been stolen from your lungs. This time, when you are so far gone that he thinks you’re beyond the realms of sound, and sight, too, with your eyes tightly screwed shut, he says it, for the sake of himself.

“I think I love you-”

[battlinghurricanes]

LITYERSES HEADCANONS!!!!!!!

I saw some other headcanon posts for him, so I felt inspired to throw my own ideas out there! I think some of my headcanons are pretty different from the ones a lot of people have of him, but I always like reading other people’s ideas so hopefully people will like this too!

(also theres a lot, this is long *cough* my bad)

- After the incident in The Lost Hero, after Midas dies, Lityerses is homeless. His father’s mansion is destroyed and it’s not like he has anyone to turn to.

- They mention in The Lost Hero that the Hunters of Artemis came across Midas and Lityerses earlier. When they did, Lityerses heard in passing about Camp Half-Blood. It’s the only place meant for demigods that he has even the slightest knowledge on, so he sets his sights on making it there.

- It takes eight grim months to reach New York. It’s half a miracle, slowly taking busses, hitchhiking, and sometimes just walking to the next city. Monsters attack him the entire way and he adds plenty of new scars to his collection.

- There’s no reliable way for him to get money. He gets much, much better at using his powers as a son of Demeter. He uses it to grow fruits, vegetables, and any sort of edible plant so he can at least have food of some kind.

- He goes to New York City because he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t even know if the Hunters were talking about the city or the state but he figures he has to start somewhere. Unfortunately, the Triumvirate notices his presence before anyone from Camp Half-Blood does.

- He follows some demigods to Nero, who sent them to collect him. He offers a position working for the Triumvirate in exchange for food, lodging, and other basic support. Lityerses is tired and he wants to sleep in a bed and have proper meals he doesn’t have to worry about acquiring.

- He accepts, not caring if what the Triumvirate is doing is shitty or not. Nero sends him to Indianapolis to work for Commodus.

- Apollo’s decision to give him another chance was very affecting. Especially coming from ancient times when the stories of the gods on earth were far more real and immediate, he knows very well how the gods could treat mortals as simply disposable.

- He had never questioned his belief that any mortal who got wrapped up in business with a god suffered a horrible fate because of it, whether the god intended it or not.

- But then Apollo saved his life and defended him at the Waystation and told him he trusted him and Lityerses’s mind keeps drifting back to him over and over and over.

- His mind wants to reconcile what Apollo did for him with what he knows about the gods. He can’t, and that makes him feel a great many things that he can’t pin down. Apollo decided to care about him when he had no reason to, and he doesn’t know what that means for him.

- He feels a twinge of gratitude whenever he steps into the sunlight and pulse of anxiety whenever he wonders if he’s okay on his quest.

- He thinks about Meg, his little sister, and hopes they’re keeping each other safe.

- Lityerses can occasionally seem really dull, indifferent, or unresponsive because he gives super minimal reactions to things sometimes, but that’s really not the case.

- Being in the modern world for him is sort of like a slight, but near constant sensory overload. Sometimes, his brain is too busy processing other stuff to fully load up an emotional response. He’ll react to something in his mind but he won’t express it outwardly at all.

- Leo, running up: Wanna help me strap a firework to a crossbow bolt and try to shoot it into the office building across the street to see if it’ll blow up in there?!!!!!     Lityerses, with a completely flat voice and blank expression: I think that’s a very bad idea.

- It’s definitely not all the time, but it does happen.

- (Me? Projecting sensory issues onto every character I like? It’s more likely than you think.)

- He has a very “go with the flow” attitude, to the point of being a character flaw sometimes. It can make him easy to manipulate.

- (Commodus: hey lityerses go put this barbed wire and war helmets and metal teeth on these ostriches     Liyerses, in his head: uhuh uhuh uhuh uhuh yeah cool got it i hope i still have some fingers left tomorrow)

- He’s working on it though. He’s working on it.

- One side effect of this is that whenever Leo makes some pop culture or meme reference, Lityerses will just nod and agree. It takes Leo forever to realise that he was just lying going along with it.

- *mid conversation*  Lityerses: I’d go get some food, but I don’t have any money     Leo: dude, you’re literally just the 69 cents vine, not enough for chicken nuggets     Lityerses: oh, for sure     Calypso, overhearing: wait, you understood that??     Lityerses: no, I’ve never understood a single word that’s left leo’s mouth       Leo: what?!!!! but you said you understood my reference to that dril tweet the other day, right?!      Lityerses: yeah, of course      Calypso: what’s a dril tweet??      Lityerses: I don’t know.       Leo: YOU TRAITOR

- Another side effect: he’s a complete pushover for Georgie.

- At one point, when some of the Waystation crew are walking out in the city, she complains that she’s tired and wants to be carried. When her moms gently refuse, she immediately goes over to Lityerses and holds her arms out and says that she’s tired. He doesn’t even stop walking, he just swoops her up and puts her on his shoulder right away.

- Hemithia and Jo glare at him but he just avoids eye contact. “She’s already up there, too much effort to put her down now.”

- He was in the Fields of Punishment in the Underworld and wow was it incredibly traumatizing.

- His memories of death are sickeningly agonizing, but they also usually feel distant and unreal. Sometimes, though, they’ll worm their way into his dreams with horrific clarity. He’ll wake up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating, with full body tremors he can’t control.

- One morning after waking up like that, while sitting on the floor regaining his composure, Hemithea comes in to see why he wasn’t up yet. He pulls himself together in due time. He doesn’t answer any of her questions.

- He never talks about it, but he’s truly terrified of dying. He never was before, but now that he knows what’s waiting for him...

- It doesn’t help that he knows that, no matter how careful he is or how well he defends himself, he could die at any moment if Thanatos decides to bring him back to the Underworld.

- It weighs on the back of his mind that, at least on a technical level, he has no right to be alive. Sometimes he can’t help but think that the things he does now don’t matter in the end, because there’s no reason he would get a second judgement when he does eventually return to the Underworld.

- He does his best to shut that down and remind himself that trying to do the right thing helps the people around him, no matter what happens after his death, but the thought exists and it is painful.

- He really never voices these fears because he feels like all he can really do is try not to think about it, and when he does, he tries to forget as soon as he can. It’s a burden he shoulders as quietly as he can.

- He isn’t used to owning a lot of material possessions, both from how he lived in ancient times and then from being homeless for a while. He’s only ever described wearing that Cornhuskers shirt because it’s the only one he owned for a while.

- Not long after joining the Waystation, the first time he was going out somewhere them, Jo snapped that it just made him look stupid, trying to look tough by going without a coat when it was so cold outside. Earnestly confused and defensive, he tells her that he just doesn’t own one.

- After that, she insists on filling his wardrobe until he has enough clothes.

- (Speaking of the Cornhuskers shirt, he just picked it out on a whim, sort of thinking of Demeter (They grow corn here like we used to grow wheat, right?) and sort of just thinking it looked cool. Olujime once tried to talk to him about how some college teams were doing and Lityerses just goes “What’s football?”)

- He doesn’t really get modern fashion trends. Leo offers to catch him up, but he declines very quickly.

- In ancient times, dyes and patterns available for clothes were much more limited and much more expensive. He’s fascinated by all the colors and prints people can wear just all the time now. Lityerses wears a lot of bright colors because he thinks they’re cool and fun. He likes red, blue, and purple the most but he’ll wear a lot of stuff.

- Along with not really following any trends, he also hasn’t picked up on a lot of unspoken gender connotations that come with modern clothing.

- When the Waystation are first trying to get him some clothes, he picks out a pink jacket and Leo snorts at him like “You’re going for pink?” Lityerses just stares at him like “Yeah. It’s just pink.” Leo sort of realizes and goes, “Oh, it’s just, you know...” to Calypso. But Calypso is also just staring blankly and says, “No I don’t. I don’t get it. Is there something about pink?” And Leo notices Hemithea glaring daggers at him and he laughs nervously and goes, “Nevermind, it was a stupid joke anyway.”

- Hemithia: Leave the ancient demigod and ex-titan blissfully unaware of our complex, modern gender stereotypes.    Leo, sweating: gotcha.

- He pretty much just wears what he finds comfortable. Generally it’s just t-shirts with jeans or basketball shorts.

- Lityerses is a super clingy sleeper and will reflexively grab on to anything within arms reach while he’s asleep. (He’s a big spoon by nature.)

- Leo discovers this and now, whenever Lityerses falls asleep on one of the couches, he’ll entertain himself by slowly pushing a pillow up to him until he inevitably grabs it and pulls it against his chest.

- No one gets those pillows back until Lityerses wakes up.

- He’s very buff. His muscles aren’t super defined, nothing at all like a bodybuilder, no six pack abs or anything. But he’s built. Thick arms.

- He’s very limber and flexible too. He has great balance, which lets him move as fast as he does in combat. He’s quite physically fit in general.

- He’ll never admit it, but he ended up getting attached to the highlights in his hair he got when Apollo revealed his godly form. He thought they were fun and different and he sort of missed it when his hair grew out.

[kuredono]

Sing Sing Sing [part 1 of penpals] | Fushiguro x gn!(clarinettist)reader

TW: mentions of throwing up, hospital despite the TW this is v fluffy! basically you and Meg have been penpals and you meet for the first time! but not in the way either of you would’ve imagined... 

"i think they're coming around now..."

"hello..?"

all you remember was taking a wrong turn down an empty alley on a sunny day, then you were in a cold building with an ugly looking monster holding the back of your neck.

you grasped at a knee, or maybe an arm, squeezing as your felt your stomach churn, though you kept your lips pursed together, willing for it to stay down.

"i think they're gonna be sick..."

"GOJO-SENSEI! HELP! THE CIVILIAN IS GOING TO THROW UP!"

fresh air suddenly hit your face and you threw up in a bush before everything went black again.

"-the thing up. afterwards it was pretty easy to deal with."

"you say that, but the civilian still got injured."

"hey! i didn't see you trying to catch them."

"i had my hands full already!"

your eyes were immediately assaulted with the bright sunshine as you tried to crack them open. you decidedly kept them shut and moved your lead weighted arms to cover your eyes.

"oh?"

"you awake?"

"what happened?" was all you could ask. you had tried to beat the ugly thing with-

"my clarinet!" you bolted up, eyes wide open and met with three equally wide ones (person one had a black blindfold?), but suddenly your head exploded with pain.

"go slowly. you hit your head pretty hard." a voice said as you groaned, squeezing your temples with your trembling hands. "do you remember what happened?"

"got lost walking back. woke up in a weird building and there was a funky looking thing. tried to run away, then some people turned up and the thing exploded. kinda gross."

"gross?!"

"i mean, they are super gross." 

"where are we? what's going on?" you dared to open your eyes again, more slowly, as you took in your surroundings. you were sat on the floor, leaning against a big black dog. how cute. you nuzzled your head into its fur, easing your killer headache. 

"we're in Akihabara, and i think you're concussed. we'd like to take you to a hospital." the one with white hair and the blindfold spoke with a kind smile.

"who are you?" you furrowed your brows together, feeling like you should run away because stranger danger ! but the dog was comfy, lulling you to sleep.

"ah, i'm Gojo Satoru, i'm a teacher at the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech High School, and they are my first year students. we were out on a field trip when we found you." the white haired male answered again. he was a teacher? you'd never be able to guess.

"Jujutsu Tech High School?" you repeated, the name distantly ringing bells. you turned your attention to the students. "i recognise that uniform."

"we've been in Akihabara and around Tokyo before! did you see us then?" the pink haired boy asked with a bright smile. you buried your face into the dog with a thoughtful hum.

"it's only natural we stand out you know!" amother voice voice sung.

"never in a good way." a calmer voice grumbled.

"i guess i just exude that kind of eye-catching aura."

"it's easy recognise beauty such as mine."

how did you get here? why was this happening to you? you were just performing with a marching band this morning, doing your absolute best and playing your loudest for someone. you wanted to stand out for someone. he said he'd come by but didn't. you weren't disappointed... well... you were, but you understood he had his reasons. he probably had classes because it's Thursday.

"Megumi Fushiguro?" you mumbled, the students around you falling silent.

"what did you say?"

"oh yeah, in Japan you say it the other way round don't you?" you chuckled, remembering how embarrassed you were when Megumi cared to point that out when you were discussing nicknames. "Fushiguro Megumi. think he goes to your school."

it was quiet for a moment before the students erupted into excited chatter, 

"Fushiguro! you know them?"

"why didn't you tell us!"

"what? i - i don't—" the calm voice was not calm, but his breath stuttered, "Y - Y/N?"

you had first met Fushiguro via letter in first year middle school, your middle schools partners for a penpal project. you had sent the first letter and even went through the extra effort to try and make a translation, though your characters were very messy so you made sure to also send the English original in case it was unreadable. it was nearly a month before your class got their responses, and it appeared you were the most lucky as Fushiguro's English was far better than your Japanese, and when comparing letters with your classmates, you had the most interesting response.

nearly a year and 7 more letters later, you were the only one in your class still in touch with your penpal, and with the year drawing to a close, the teachers explained that you could only send one more letter. so with a wish, you sent your phone number and downloaded several Japanese chatting apps. sure enough, 2 weeks later, there was a friend request on LINE from a Megumi Fushiguro. his profile picture was just a night sky, but you couldn't say anything, yours was sheet music. this anonymity continued indefinitely. at first you had no idea how often he was okay with you messaging him, and you added the Tokyo timezone to your clock app so you didn't message him at ungodly hours, but after a few months, Megumi would be your first thought when you saw a cute cat or something and you'd quickly snap a photo to send him. he also did the same, mostly pictures of the sky.

on Megumi's birthday, you sent a recording of you playing his favourite piece on clarinet, and for your birthday he sent you a playlist of songs he thought you would like. from then on, you continued to send him your repertoire and small recordings of your practices. then one day, when you talked to him about your most recent performance, Fushiguro asked for the link to the video. you did, but didn't tell him which clarinet player you were. he didn't ask either. you toed the border of your anonymity when you first moved to high school with a picture of you in your new marching band uniform, but from the neck down. you weren't expecting a photo back, but he surprisingly sent one back of his uniform from the neck down. his uniform looked much comfier.

then a spot for a Japanese high school exchange opened (one of the main reasons you chose to attend the high school you did), and though it was for second years, you fought and won the spot. you immediately messaged Fushiguro without checking the time in Japan. and as if that wasn't enough, the wind band in your Japanese high school were having a performance in Tokyo! Fushiguro was in Tokyo! you told Fushiguro, but then dread began to pool in your stomach. what if he didn't want to meet? you were totally fine with that. but you wanted to so badly! you remember your elation when he stopped you mid-anxious text ramble to say he would meet you.

you woke up to a white ceiling and the potent smell of disinfectant. the hospital curtain slid open to reveal a beautiful boy with deep blue hair and long eyelashes, his eyes widening at you.

"ah- good afternoon."

"good afternoon, how can i help?" you smiled, "i think you might have the wrong bay?"

"no. i- uh- do you remember what happened? do you, do you remember me?"

"um... no? i'm not really sure what you mean? i mean, i recognise your uniform- do you go to Tokyo Jujutsu Tech High School by any chance?"

"they said you would be concussed and you might have some memory problems..." the boy mumbled, "is it alright if i sit down?" your eyes darted to the curtain in panic, "ah, i'll leave the curtain open, our teacher is just signing you out the hospital, i'm Fushiguro Megumi."

"Megumi?!" you gasped, the boy smiling softly as you fumbled for words, "i- you- huh?"

"yeah... we have a lot to talk about."

"then, please! sit! i can't believe!" you covered your mouth with your hand, which did nothing to muffle your delighted squeal as he sat in the chair next to your bed. "wow. i mean, it's so nice to finally meet you in person!"

Megumi couldn't help smiling too.

"it's nice to see you too... and i'm sorry i didn't make it to your performance."

"hey, it's okay! we still met up!" you grinned brightly. Megumi then found his hands very interesting.

"and, um... your clarinet is broken..."

"that--" will be very expensive, the thought alone bringing tears to your eyes- your precious baby! it was worth more than your entire wardrobe and shoes! but you shoved that thought away until later. Megumi was here now, visiting you in hospital. "-actually, why am i here? what happened?"

Megumi thankfully didn't push the topic of your clarinet and gladly filled you in on what had happened. by the end of his explanation, you had your face buried in your hands.

"i'm so sorry you had to see that."

"it's fine, i've seen worse. besides, you were concussed, it's normal."

"still..." you whined, peeking between your fingers to find him offering you a hint of a reassuring smile. you gave in with a sigh, "i must say, that's some weird religion you have and they teach you, no offence."

Megumi chuckled, eyes distant, "you're right, it is pretty weird."

"but, um, thank you for saving me Megumi." said boy snapped back into reality very quickly, his cheeks flushing red as it dawned on you that everyone probably called him by his last name. "or do you prefer Fushiguro? am i pronouncing it right? sorry, i got used to-"

"it's fine." he uttered out, "Megumi is fine."

"what about honourifics?"

"whatever you're comfortable with."

"then... Megumi-kun? or is that too weird?"

the boy's cheeks darkened, "it's fine..."

"then you can call me Y/N-chan! then it's not as weird right?" you suggested, starting to feel the second-hand embarrassment.

"yeah." Megumi flinched too much when his phone chimed, and he hurriedly read it over. "Gojo-sensei -my teacher- said he's signed what you need to let you out. you just need to sign a few things before you go."

"right." well, the moment had to end at some point. you couldn't stay in the hospital bay forever. it was just an amazing coincidence that you had met Megumi, so you should be thankful you even had the opportunity to speak to him like this. "am i okay to move?"

"um, i'll call a nurse."

Megumi stepped out as you were examined by the nurse, and you saw him again in reception as you gave him and his teacher a thumbs up before signing the hospital forms.

"thank you very much for everything you've done. i'm so grateful. and please pass my thanks on to the other first years!" you bowed formally to the pair, Megumi flushing red while his teacher just waved you off.

"no worries. sorry about your clarinet and the concussion." the teacher responded.

"it's fine, i was always told i have a thick skull! comes in handy sometimes."

"i have to go now, but Megumi will walk you to the station, right?"

Megumi scowled at his teacher with an unreadable look in his eyes which seemed to make the teacher's smile brighten.

"well it was nice to meet you sir!" you bowed again at the adult, who nodded to you.

"nice to meet you too! hope you enjoy Japan. Megumi, be nice."

Megumi glared at the older man as he skipped away, seemingly pleased with himself for winding the younger up. Said male sighed.

"you don't have to walk me back if you're busy, i have GPS on my phone."

The boy startled at your comment, brows furrowed, before shaking his head, "it's fine, it's no trouble. i would feel better if i walked you to the station at least."

you couldn't stop the wide smile stretching on your lips, "thanks!"

"it's nothing."

you mentally thanked all the deities for letting you spend a little longer with your penpal, chatting easily as if you hadn't just met him less than 10 hours ago. by the time you had made it to the station, you had mentally prepared to part.

"so... i guess this is it?"

"yeah..."

"it was so nice to meet you- i cannot fully explain how nice this has been! even if i did spend a while in a hospital." Megumi chuckled at your words. you felt your cheeks heat up, his smile squeezing at your heart.

"i feel the same."

your train arrived.

"well. i'll message you later then?" you grinned hopefully, Megumi nodding. "hug? or do you not do those? i don't mind."

you nearly burst out laughing at the rush of emotions that flickered in Megumi's eyes- mostly panic. he blinked out his state when a giggle slipped out. he flushed red but nodded stiffly, opening his arms for you. you smiled as you wrapped your arms around him, feeling his wrap behind you too, surprisingly quickly considering how awkward he was at first. keeping it short because of the train behind you, you pulled away to find him also smiling. so he did like hugs.

"until next time?"

"yeah."

the doors shut and you waved to him as the train set off. and that was that.

your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Megumi: the school offered to pay compensation for the damages to your clarinet, so please let me know if and when you're free to go to a music shop in Tokyo to buy a new one.

sorry this hasn’t been proofread and the ending is kinda rushed because i just really wanted to publish it hahaha (catch me constantly editing this for DAYS now, so i probably shouldn’t post it but we die like men)

[dweetwise]

presenting the weirdest and crackiest but also fluffiest shit i’ve ever written, i bring you nearly 5k words of riconti snail au snippets. if you haven’t seen @skllyr‘s adorable art about them, you should!

ship: felix x ace warnings: none word count: 4850

Felix X Ace: Love is stored in the snail

Ace Visconti thought he’d seen it all; from lavish spectacles of prestigious poker tournaments to the dangerous underworld he inevitably ended up involved with, and finally to a realm where the laws of nature meant nothing and death wasn’t permanent. But what eventually takes the cake for Weirdest Shit Ace Has Ever Seen isn’t one of the otherworldly monsters hunting him or seeing one of his numerous wounds heal up right before his eyes; it’s a snail. A goddamn snail. It just appears at the campfire one day, sitting on top of a medkit Dwight reaches for and causing the boy to yelp in surprise once he sees the small stowaway. Ace doesn’t quite understand why everyone is suddenly so eager to take a closer look at a random slug instead of hearing one of his exciting and totally-not-embellished stories, but he joins the small commotion forming around the snail nonetheless. And then he suddenly sees why. The snail not only has an eye-catching light blue shell with a gaudy flamingo pattern on it, it’s also dressed up in tiny sunglasses and a baseball cap between its antennas. Ace looks down at his own pastel blue flamingo sweater and fidgets self-consciously with his shades, wondering whether he should bring up the uncanny likeness— “Is it just me, or does the snail look Ace?” Laurie asks, glancing between Ace and the bug with furrowed eyebrows. “No, I… definitely see a resemblance,” Dwight says. “What should we name it?” Claudette asks. “I mean it's a snail that looks like Ace, so… Snace?” Nea suggests. “Snace it is!” Meg decides, snickering at Ace’s misfortune. “I'm glad you're having fun,” Ace snorts, glaring at the snail for stealing his spotlight. The girls hurry to make a home for the snail in the medkit, which Ace finds all kinds of ridiculous. They give it some bandages and twigs to hide and "play" in, whatever the fuck that means for a snail, and Claud gives it edible flowers to nibble on.

Ace tries his best to ignore the snail, but when he gets back from a trial and sees some of the group passing it between their hands and taking turns to hold it, he can’t help watching them. It’s Dwight’s turn now, their leader cradling the snail in his hands and looking way too happy with the situation. “Do you want to try?” Dwight asks, noticing Ace's staring. “Uhh… sure," Ace says, not having the heart to ruin everyone’s good mood. He goes to grab the snail from Dwight's hand, lifting it by the obnoxiously colored shell— “Not like that, you absolute moron!” Jake snaps, slapping Ace's hand away. “You're going to hurt him. You need to slide him off, not lift upwards,” Jake explains, showing how to do it, plopping the snail down on Ace's hand. It's… slimy and kind of gross. The snail seems confused, feeling around with its antennas. And then, it slowly starts to slither forward. “It's kinda cute,” Ace realizes, watching the little snail face with its little shades. It's the coolest snail he's ever seen for sure, but he wouldn't expect anything less from his doppelgänger. “You go, little guy,” Ace encourages the snail, poking it gently on its shell in encouragement. The snail wobbles a bit, and then its tiny face turns to look at Ace, and— “Ew, it pooped on me!” Ace realizes and Dwight chokes on a laugh while Jake smirks smugly and removes Snace from his hand. Ace could just be imagining it, but the snail looks way too pleased with himself.

Other survivors join and, sooner or later, everyone except Ace seems to fall in love with Snace. “He's just like Ace,” their newest teammate, Kate, comments. “What's that supposed to mean, Sunshine?” Ace challenges playfully. “He's a little slimey but everyone still loves him!” Kate smiles brightly and Ace’s witty comeback dies on his tongue at the unexpected heartfelt remark.

And eventually, when their small group has expanded to over twenty people, there's Felix. And no matter how hard he tries, Ace can’t help sneaking glances at the serious German. He’s tall. Blond. Handsome. Rich. Smart. Did he say handsome? Oh, and Felix hates Snace. “This is our pet snail, Snace!” Steve introduces with an excited grin while giving Felix the tour of their modest campgrounds. “A… snail?” Felix frowns. “Yeah! Do you wanna hold him?” Steve asks, already reaching his hand into the medkit. “No!” Felix recoils away, before seeming to collect himself. “I'm, um… not a pet person.” Ace tries (and fails) not to take it personally that Felix finds Snace to be repulsive and will just scoff and roll his eyes whenever the others discuss him. What the hell is his problem, anyway?

And then, something never before seen happens; they get another snail. “Guys!” Cheryl runs into camp, looking out of breath and cradling something in her hands. “Look what I found!” Ace goes to look right along with the others, and in the girl’s hands is a pale snail with a dark blue shell and a pattern resembling a suit collar on its neck. It doesn't have fashionable accessories like Snace, but there’s a tiny briefcase next to it. “Oh my god! He's so cute!” Meg squeals, making the snail retract into its shell in fear. “Aww, he's shy!” Kate coos. “Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?” Nea suddenly says with a grin, glancing between Felix and the snail. Several heads turn in the German's direction, taking in his dark blue suit and pale complexion. “…What?” Felix asks, just as standoffish as ever. “Snelix!” Nea exclaims proudly. When several others join in to cheer and chant Snelix’s name, Felix just sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in a gesture that screams "end me".

Everyone is eager to introduce Snelix to Snace, gathering around the medkit, even forcing Felix to watch. “Look, Snace! A new friend!” Cheryl says, gently plopping Snelix down into the medkit. Snace immediately starts slithering toward him, while Snelix just seems confused, rooted in place. “Aww! He's excited!” Dwight smiles. Snace reaches out his snail whiskers in a greeting, and Snelix recoils, slinking a little into his shell. “Oh, he's nervous!” Kate coos. “Don't worry doll, Snace is nice.” As if sensing the woman's words, Snelix cautiously comes out of his shell, hesitantly reaching out an antenna. “There you go, bud!” Ace encourages his snailself. “Take it slow, don't scare him away.” He glances at Felix, standing at the edge of the group with his arms crossed. If only people had it as easy as snails— “Oh, god!” Nancy exclaims in disgust, making Ace look back at the snails. And seeing Snace groping Snelix with his antennas while backing him into a corner. “Hey!” Ace chastices. “What did I just say!?” “Someone save him!” Laurie urges, but it seems Snelix can take care of himself, turning around and slinking up the medkit’s wall. “Aww, he's running away,” Steve pouts. “Good,” Felix huffs quietly from behind the group, and Ace pretends not to hear him. He also pretends that the comment doesn't sting, after trying and failing to get through the German's cold exterior for weeks.

Quentin tries to give Snelix one of his medkits to give him a place to live, but Snelix refuses to go in until it's cleaned up. “What a little snob,” Quentin snorts. “Yeah, how weird is that,” Yui smirks and glances at Felix in a way that’s definitely not subtle. Felix just scoffs and crosses his arms but, thankfully, doesn’t take the bait.

“Guys, I think Snace is depressed,” Meg says one day, looking into the medkit with a frown. “He's not even eating!” Claudette adds worriedly. “Maybe he's dying of old age,” Feng snarks. “I heard that,” Ace shoots back without any real heat. The snail isn't the only one who is feeling under the weather, Felix ignoring him for the last few days taking a toll on his confidence. “What if he misses Snelix?” Cheryl frowns. “Maybe we should try to introduce them again!” Steve exclaims. “No way,” Yui says. “Just because they're both snails doesn't mean they have to be friends.” “Yeah, let's at least give Snelix some time to settle in first,” Jeff suggests.

“Oh shit! Help!” Nea shouts not long after their previous conversation. “What's wrong?” Jane asks worriedly, immediately going into mom-mode. “Snelix is gone!” Nea says, showing them the empty med-kit. Is only takes those three words for the entire camp to erupt into panic. “NOBODY STEP ANYWHERE!” Jane commands. Thus commences the search for Snelix, with everyone participating and even Felix looking surprisingly worried. They eventually find Snelix is Snace's medkit, where they're just sitting next to each other munching on some leaves. “Aww! He walked all the way to his friend!” Kate beams. “Look how cute they are together!” Cheryl smiles. Ace feels his face heating up upon seeing the snails' close proximity. It almost looks like they're sitting next to each other cuddling while sharing a meal. He can't believe Snelix would actually come around, not to mention go through all that trouble to be with Snace. Someone probably put him there, but nobody fesses up. “Are they k-kissing?” Dwight squeaks in surprise when the snails seem to interrupt their meal just long enough to move their tiny whiskers together. “They're snails,” Zarina deadpans. “Most likely just conversing,” Adam adds. “I'm so glad they're getting along now!” Claudette sighs in relief. “Bro… what if we kissed? And we're both snails?” Feng says, propping her elbows up on a tree stump to watch the snails together. “Best snails forever,” Meg grins, joining the gamer. Ace discreetly clears his throat and mentally kicks himself for being jealous of goddamn snails. Even if him and Felix are getting along better day for day, Ace doesn't have any illusions that he’ll ever get to kiss the handsome architect. Still, a man can dream.

The snails seem happy to share a living space together and the next day, Ace even catches Felix observing them curiously. “It's funny how well our snails get along now,” Ace says conversationally, coming up beside Felix. “I'm not that surprised,” Felix says, looking at the snails climbing over each other and seeming to play together. “Looks like he just needed a little push,” Felix says bashfully. And something in Ace's head clicks at the comment. “Were you the one who put him there?” Ace asks, and Felix immediately clears his throat self-consciously. “I just wanted to try it,” Felix explains. “Maybe it would go better, since everything wasn't so new and people weren't staring. And it worked out.” Are… are they still talking about the snails? Or their own, slowly blossoming friendship? “He's been alone for so long,” Felix continues, looking back to the snails now sharing a piece of cucumber. “He deserves to be happy.” Felix smiles an adorable little smile and Ace realizes in just how deep shit he is with his stupid crush on the man. “I've never seen Snace so happy,” Ace agrees. “Just look at his smug little face.” “I thought he always looked happy,” Felix remarks. Ace fights himself for a moment, debating on whether he should be honest or not, or if he's read the situation completely wrong. “Maybe he's never had a real friend before,” Ace says, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Felix glancing at him, but doesn't dare look away from the snails.

And then one day… “Woah—what's wrong with the snails?” Steve calls from the medkit, Claudette immediately rushing closer to check. And then the botanist gasps in shock and everyone else hurries there too. “What happened—oh. Oh,” Quentin says, face flushing red, and Ace peers over the teen's shoulder to… See the snails in the middle of snail sex. “They're fucking,” Nea states matter-of-factly. “Yes Nea we can see that,” Laurie hisses, face pink from embarrassment. “Wot the—they're both blokes, innit?!” David seems confused. “Snails are hermaphrodites,” Adam points out. “Gay snails!” Feng exclaims cheerfully. “It's not gay if they're—” Adam tries again. “If what, they don't make eye contact?” Feng snickers right back. “No, I mean if they have both male and female reproductive organs,” Adam explains, looking embarrassed now. Ace glances at Felix and sees him staring at the snails with his mouth pressed into a thin line. But… he's also blushing. “Gay snails! Gay snails!” Feng, disregarding Adam's explanation, starts chanting. Jane and Laurie eventually have to pull some of the more eager onlookers away by their ears to give the snails some privacy.

One day, Felix returns from a trial and walks to Bill’s spot a little outside camp to return a map he borrowed earlier. He never makes it that far, because he spots Ace out in the woods, looking much more focused than Felix has ever seen as he fiddles with something in his hands. Ace doesn’t even notice him approaching, and Felix takes the opportunity to freely stare at the man who’s been slowly but surely occupying more and more of his thoughts. Ace’s sunglasses are pushed up into his hair and his tongue is poking out in concentration, and it’s completely beyond Felix’s understanding how someone can manage to look both so handsome and utterly ridiculous. “What are you doing?” Felix asks, and Ace’s head instantly snaps up to look at him in surprise. “I’m, uh…” Ace falters for once in his life, lowering his hands to hide whatever he was up to, but Felix catches the glint of something metallic. “Is that a needle? Do you need stitches?” Felix asks, not failing to hide the concern in his voice. “No, I—” Ace starts, but then falters and sighs in defeat. “Promise not to tell anyone.” He doesn’t wait for Felix’s reply before reaching his hand forward, opening his palm to show Felix… A tiny pink baseball cap with a thread and needle attached. “For… Snace?” Felix asks, struggling to take in the information that, somehow, this flamboyant loudmouth is making clothes for his pet snail. “He deserves a proper wardrobe, okay?” Ace huffs jokingly but pulls the project closer to himself defensively. It’s surprisingly… endearing. “I didn’t know you sewed,” Felix says instead of voicing his embarrassing thoughts. “Yeah, well, it comes in handy,” Ace points out. “Can’t tell you how many times I had to patch up a shirt after I barely escaped the cop—uh, competition,” Ace catches himself, grinning sheepishly. Felix raises a curious eyebrow but doesn’t push the topic. Instead, an idea forms in his head that he can’t help expressing. “Could you make a scarf for Snelix?” Felix says, and almost instantly regrets asking after realizing how stupid that sounds. But it makes Ace perk up in interest, and soon a wide grin is spreading over the gambler’s face. “Sure, I can do that!” Ace beams. “Why a scarf, though?” Felix is already opening his mouth to say because he loves scarves, but thankfully is able to stop himself. “They’re stylish,” he says instead. “Well well well, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were starting to like the little slimy bastards,” Ace grins. “They might be growing on me,” Felix admits with just the barest hint of a smirk. Hopefully Ace realizes he doesn’t mean just the snails.

One evening, Ace is sitting by himself, looking at Snace and Snelix living their best life. They eat a little bit of some of the flowers Claudette gave them earlier, before Snelix turns around to leave and Snace immediately follows him. They slither away to a secluded corner, laying next to each other and doing their little snail kisses, until Snelix eventually slumps and flattens to the ground, seeming to fall asleep. Snace sits next to him for a while, before he carefully moves away, slinking back to nom on the flowers. “Putting your boyfriend to sleep, huh?” Ace murmurs quietly, not wanting to wake Snelix. “I'm jealous of your life, buddy.” Snace lifts his head from the flower, his little shades looking Ace's way. “At least one of us got what he wanted. You did good for yourself, high five,” Ace whispers, holding up his finger in front of Snace for shits and giggles. And Snace, the snail that absolutely hates him, lifts one of his antennas and briefly touches his finger in a high five before going back to his meal. “Woah,” Ace breathes, a grin spreading over his face and glancing around camp, wanting to see if anyone was around to witness the event— And his eyes meet Felix's, standing behind him, staring at Ace talking to his snail like an absolute idiot. And probably having heard everything. “It, uh,” Ace starts when Felix isn't saying anything, the German's eyes wide from surprise. “He high-fived me.” “I, er…” Felix stutters in return, before clearing his throat. “I got some moss for them from Red Forest.” “Oh, neat,” Ace comments. “Snelix just fell asleep, but maybe you won’t wake him if you’re careful.” “No, I don't want to disturb them,” Felix says, crouching down next to Ace and placing the moss next to the medkit. They watch the snails in silence, Snace finishing his midnight snack, Ace debating on whether he should bring up the previous conversation or not. “Thank you,” Felix says instead, before Ace can strike up a conversation. “…For what?” “For being patient with me,” Felix murmurs. “I know I can come across as… cold.” Well that's an understatement if Ace has ever heard one. “Hmm, I guess you could say you needed some time to…” Ace says, pausing for comedic effect while he waits for Felix to turn to look at him for the punchline. “Come out of your shell.” Felix huffs a surprised laugh and turns his head away, but not before Ace sees a beautiful smile spreading over his normally serious face. They keep observing the snails, until Snace has finally had enough of the flowers, moving to lay next to Snelix. “Oh, he's awake,” Ace comments, seeing Snelix groggily lift his head toward Snace. He pushes up Snace's shades, dislodging the cap a bit before doing another little snail kiss. “Damn, that's adorable,” Ace grins. And then there's a hand on his temple, and Ace freezes as his shades are gently pushed up into his hair. He turns to look at Felix, heat rising up his neck, feeling vulnerable without the glasses, not able to hide his wide eyes searching Felix's own in a silent question. Felix's face is redder than usual but he looks more unguarded that Ace has ever seen, gaze dropping to Ace's lips while the hand on his forehead moves to cup his jaw. Ace holds his breath, not daring to say anything lest he ruin the mood and permanently mess up his chance with Felix. His thoughts are little more than white noise and excited screeching as he tilts his head up in silent invitation, and that's all it takes for Felix to lean down and claim his lips.

“Snace is getting fat,” Feng comments one day. “What!?” Ace exclaims, offended. “No he’s not!” “Hon, he does look a little… pudgier,” Kate comments. “He’s just… bloated, okay?” Ace insists, huffing defensively. “He’s a fucking fatass,” Feng corrects. “Yeah man, he’s really letting himself go,” Steve agrees with an infuriating smirk. “Okay, rude!” Ace scoffs. “Felix—” he starts, turning to his newly acquired boyfriend for solidarity, but sees the little shit is shaking from quiet laughter instead of being upset on his behalf. “Babe! Don’t tell me you agree with them!” Ace gasps in mock offense, hand over his heart. “Every time I’ve looked at him, he’s eating,” Felix manages to point out between snickers. “Absolutely terrible, the lot of you,” Ace huffs, peering into the medkit where the completely innocent Snace is… Munching on some berries Claudette placed there earlier. “You were saying?” Feng snarks, making Ace shoot a glare her way while Felix is still holding back chuckles.

When Ace gets back from a rather uneventful trial some time later, he notices Jake staring intently into the snails’ medkit. As he walks closer, it becomes apparent that the snails are having sex. “Jake, what the hell are you doing?” Ace asks the survivalist. “They've been at it for hours,” Jake says, face just as neutral as ever and not taking his eyes off the writhing clump of snail. “I'm a little concerned by how much you like watching my snail get laid.” “Nature is lit,” Jake merely offers. So Ace shuts the medkit, feeling weirdly exposed by having his snail’s private life invaded like that. “Give them some privacy, sheesh,” he chastises Jake. “Prude,” the boy snorts.

It’s only a few days before there is another episode of, as Felix likes to call it, snail drama. “Felix!” Ace shouts, making Felix sigh in fond irritation and pause his sorting of their shared stash of items that Ace has left an absolute mess (again). “Yes, love?” he asks, doing his best impression of an exasperated husband despite them only dating for what can't be more than a few weeks. And then he sees Ace's face full of both alarm and excitement, and immediately drops what he was doing. “What's wrong?” he asks, feeling the panic quickly bubbling up. “SNACE IS GIVING BIRTH!” Ace exclaims ten decibels louder than necessary, grabbing a confused Felix by his sleeve and dragging him toward the snails' home. Sure enough, there's a small commotion around the medkit, and when Felix peers into it he can see Snace in the middle of laying eggs, Snelix by his side in solidarity. “Come on dude! Push!” Feng is trying to encourage the snail. “Shh, you're stressing it!” Claudette chastises. “I told you guys he wasn’t fat!” Ace huffs proudly. After ten or so eggs, the process seems to be over, and Snace happily slithers away to go snack on some leaves. “Oh,” Claudette says, bewildered. “What?” Ace says. “I, um,” the botanist falters. “They usually lay about a hundred eggs…” “A hundred?” Ace screeches. “Don't you think ten kids is more than enough?” “Only a small portion of them actually hatch!” Claudette hurries to add. “Maybe he's going through menopause,” Jake, not so helpfully, supplies. “I'm going to smack you,” Ace threatens. Felix just chuckles and lays a hand on Ace’s shoulder to settle him.

Excited about the possibility of baby snails, the survivors take turns watching the eggs for the next few weeks. Eventually, it’s Cheryl who screams: “Guys! An egg is hatching!” Felix rushes to the medkit before anyone else, and in an instant Ace is peering over his shoulder too, both looking at the transparent, tiny antenna pushing out of one of the eggs. Snelix and Snace are right by the eggs, eagerly waiting to meet their offspring. And then the small snail plops completely out and starts wiggling around, and Ace honest to god squeals. “Look, Felix!” he says, tugging on Felix's sleeve. “We're grandparents!” “I'm… not sure that's how it works,” Felix points out, even as he smiles at Snelix petting his child with his antenna. “I'm gonna make so much baby snail clothes for her,” Ace continues with a wide grin, nearly shaking in his shoes in excitement. “'Her'?” Felix asks, and Ace falters. “I'm, uh…” Ace explains, looking away. “You said your kid's a girl, I mean based on the ultrasound before you were taken, so I figured…” Something in Felix's expression softens, touched that Ace would remember something like that. He steals a quick kiss while everyone is preoccupied with staring at the family of snails.

“What should we name their kid?” Jeff ponders a couple weeks later, watching the baby snail climb all over Snace while Snelix anxiously hovers nearby. “Ask the grandpas,” Feng snarks. “Yeah, have you decided on a name yet?” Cheryl asks, looking up at Felix with wide, shimmering eyes. “Err,” Felix says, glancing at Ace for help. Ace grins and discreetly nods toward the eager Cheryl. “Oh,” Felix seems to realize. “Yes, we were considering Ch—ehm, Sneryl.” Cheryl gasps in awe. “She does look like a Sneryl,” Jeff agrees. “What? It doesn't look like any—” Feng starts, but at Jeff's pointed look, thankfully shuts up. “She's the spitting image of a Sneryl!” Ace says, smiling in encouragement. “Really!?” Cheryl asks excitedly, looking between Felix and Ace. “Ah… of course,” Felix says, and then the breath leaves his lungs in a pained “Oof!” as Cheryl rushes in for a hug. “Thank you! I love having my own snail!” Cheryl beams while Felix awkwardly pats her on the head and looks at Ace with an expression that screams 'HELP'.

Seeing Sneryl grow over the following couple of months, Felix takes it upon himself to start building the snails a house out of a commodious toolbox. He might put in way more effort than necessary, making sure to separate different rooms with interior walls and adding corridors to entertain the snails. “Hey handsome, what're you doing?” Ace asks, placing a kiss against his temple as he comes up behind him to see what he’s working on. “I'm building our snails a house," Felix explains. "They have a family now, a cramped old medkit won't do.” Ace stares at him for a moment, and then a wide grin spreads over his face and he suddenly looks like he’s about to combust. “You’re so friggin adorable!” Ace exclaims and pulls him into a hug. And then he refuses to let go, clinging to Felix’s back like a koala while he keeps working on the house, and Felix would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. “…Can you make a poker room for Snace?” Ace asks after having observed his work for a while. “Poker? But they're—” Felix frowns, turning around just enough to see Ace's exaggerated, ridiculous pout. “…Fine. But you're making the furniture.” “You got it, babe!” Ace grins, before seeming to notice something. “Hey, what's that?" he asks, pointing at a drawn square on the side of the toolbox. “Oh. It's going to be a door,” Felix explains. “But what if Sneryl goes out and gets stomped on?” Ace asks worriedly. “I just…” Felix falters. “Thought that maybe they needed some freedom. Especially Snace.” “Huh?” Ace tilts his head in confusion. “He was alone for so long, I… assumed he'd probably get bored of the family life,” Felix says, looking at the ground in thought. He’s embarrassed for bringing up the subject of Ace’s loyalty like this, but once again, the snails are proving a wonderful excuse to talk about topics they otherwise wouldn’t. “That sounds like a load of bullcrap,” Ace grins, making Felix look up at him, still frowning. “I've never seen Snace so happy. He knew what he signed up for and there's no way in hell he's leaving now.” The reassurance feels like a weight lifting off of Felix’s chest, and he can’t stop the smile spreading over his lips. Hesitantly, he grabs Ace’s hand still wrapped around him, and Ace brings them both up to brush his lips over Felix's callused knuckles. “I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Ace murmurs, the sweet sentiment making warm affection spread through Felix’s entire body. “I, uhm,” Felix blushes, clearing his throat. “Is this a good time to point out I just had the snails crawl over the back of my hand…?” Ace sputters and immediately wipes at his mouth while Felix lets out a few quiet chuckles.

Following the conversation, Felix can’t help but read into Ace’s answer. Especially with the other survivors engaging in another round of the popular “What’s the first thing you’ll do when we escape?” game, Felix finds it difficult to focus on anything other than the possibility of a shared future. So, when he catches Ace alone, he hesitantly brings up the option of the man coming with him to Germany. “I know the possibility of escaping is slim,” Felix babbles nervously after Ace isn’t saying anything, just staring at him curiously. “But I can’t stop thinking about it, and I wanted to see where you are—” “Babe,” Ace interrupts, grabbing his arm to ground Felix from his scrambled thoughts, giving him an encouraging smile. “I’d love to.” Felix breathes out a relieved sigh, returning a shaky but happy smile over not getting rejected. And then Ace smirks mischievously and Felix’s instincts scream “Uh-oh”. “On one condition,” Ace adds, holding a finger in front of Felix’s face playfully. “Um… which?” Felix asks, nerves resurfacing. There’s not much that would make him say no, and he hopes he doesn’t have to, willing to make sacrifices for a potential future together. “The snails come with us,” Ace quips sheepishly instead. Felix chuckles and shakes his head in amusement, before pulling Ace in for a soft kiss. “I wouldn't have it any other way,” Felix murmurs against Ace’s lips, silently thanking the two dorky snails that allowed this to happen in the first place.

[shotgun--rider]

Daylight

 A Dean x Reader oneshot

Dean finds a letter addressed to him from Y/N, and finds a lot more in her honest words than he was expecting. 

Word count: 4100

Warnings: Brief mentions of blood, extraordinarily fluffy smut, Dean panics a lot

*Female reader, she/her pronouns used in Dean’s POV

A/N: This wouldn’t leave me alone, so here it is, and boy is it aggressively sweeter and softer than intended.

Dean tears open drawers with panicked abandon, hearing the crashing sounds of Sam doing the same to the other side of Y/N’s bedroom. There’s no time to worry about sending her research notes flying, about the haphazard pile of her underwear when he dumps her drawers on the floor. It has to be here. It has to be. 

“Dean, there’s nothing here!”

A glance over his shoulder shows Sammy’s eyes wide with the same terror that’s eating up his chest, her room looking like the aftermath of a hurricane and nothing to show for it.

“Damn it, keep looking!”

The image of Y/N doubled over the bathroom sink, choking up blood, is burned into his brain, and the knowledge that Cas is staying with her is the only thing keeping him here, instead of at her side. 

“Who the hell even got in here with a hex bag?” Sam demands, one of his arms snaking under the mattress desperately. 

“I don’t know, okay? We’ll figure it out later. After we save Y/N.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got nothing.” Sam’s hands fly up to his hair for a moment, turning a slow circle as his eyes rake the bedroom for anything they haven’t been through yet. “Dean, there’s nothing here.”

“There has to be,” Dean retorts shortly, running his hand along the upper shelf of the closet. He flat-out refuses to consider any other option in front of Sam, but his brain isn’t getting the message. It’s entirely too easy to picture her sprawled out on the tile of the bunker bathroom, blood staining her mouth with her E/C eyes staring up at nothing. And it’s not like he’s lacking in material for inspiration, having seen her in all manner of near-dead positions on hunts before, giving him a heart attack every damn time. 

But Cas has always been there to heal her, to brush his fingers against her forehead and melt away every life-threatening wound. And this time is infinitely more terrifying, because even an angel can’t just undo witches’ spells. Dean swallows hard, turning to attack the bedside table even though Sam had already dumped out the little drawer. 

“Dean!”

Dean’s head snaps up, almost tripping over himself trying to get to the doorway. “Cas? Cas, is she--”

The angel is suddenly in front of him, holding the familiar looking small brown bag. “It was in the library,” he says simply, catching it on fire with a simple flick of his hand.  His hand lands on Dean’s shoulder, then, smiling with a gentle look in his blue eyes. “She’s fine, Dean.”

Relief first, and then the familiar ache of guilt. There wouldn’t have ever been anyone coming for her if he hadn’t been the one to let her start hunting in the first place. Wordlessly, he throws his best attempt at a smile in Cas’s direction, turning back into Y/N’s bedroom. 

“Go check on her,” he tells Sam roughly, an unidentifiable catch in his throat. Y/N certainly doesn’t need him hovering around at the end of a mess he hadn’t even managed to fix. “I’m gonna clean up.”

Sam stares at him like he’d grown a second head. “You’re gonna...clean up?” he echoes. 

“What?” Dean shrugs, trying his best for an air of nonchalance. 

Sam just shakes his head, apparently giving up on his brother’s weirdness and following Cas back in the direction of the bunker’s bathroom. 

Dean clears his throat roughly, in a vain attempt to get rid of the lump that seems stuck there, and sighs. The bedroom is a complete mess, and, truthfully, cleaning it is the last thing he's interested in. Still, in the moment, it feels like a safer option than facing Y/N, so he bends forward, gathering up some of the scattered papers he’d knocked out of the closet. 

There’s a sheet of notebook paper on top of the haphazard stack when he taps it against the edge of the desk, trying to get them in some semblance of order. It’s folded in half, off-center, and would have been completely unobtrusive but for the scrawl of his name on the front, in her familiar handwriting. 

Dean pauses, setting the stack down on the desk and lifting the sheet slowly, glancing once over his shoulder out of habit before unfolding it. His face scrunches up in surprised confusion almost immediately, smoothing out into something that matches the gut-punch feeling in his chest as he continues reading. 

Dean,

I know you don’t want to hear this, but I needed to get it out of my head and put it down somewhere. I don’t know why I’m explaining this to you, anyway. It’s not like you’re going to read this. 

You break my heart, Dean Winchester. (I can hear you laughing, telling me to stop being dramatic. “It’s not a chick flick, Y/N.” Shut up.) You are strong and kind and selfless in so many ways, and you put yourself last to save everybody else and you always find some way to take the blame. But it’s not your fault, Dean. It’s not. You’re good enough, as you are, and the fact that you can’t see you the way we do breaks my heart. 

Everyone around you loves you so much, Dean--me, Sam, Cas, you’ve even grown on Meg. And you don’t have to save the world. I know experience would beg to differ, but I promise, you don’t. Not at your own expense and not by yourself, and it’s okay if the only person you can save right now is you. 

It’s okay to choose yourself. It’s okay to want someone else to choose you. And I promise you that you won’t hurt them, Dean. Seriously. You won’t. 

I hope you find something that makes you happy. And I hope I get to be there to see it. 

Love,

Y/N

Further down, the writing is  slanted and rushed, a desperate addition, an afterthought, maybe a prayer. 

Hold on. Hold on. Hold on.

Let it go, Dean. There’s still daylight here, let it go. 

----

You’re in the kitchen when Dean walks in, in search of a sandwich and trying in vain to fend off Cas. “There you are,” you smile brightly at him. “I thought my closet might have swallowed you. Sam said you were cleaning up, I don’t know what possessed you to even try--” You cut yourself off, annoyance creeping onto your features as you reach up to knock Cas’s fingers away from your forehead for what has to be the fourth or fifth time. “Cas, I’m fine. But I am hungry. So move,”

The angel fixes you with a concerned look in his blue eyes. “I just want to be sure--”

“Cas,” you stare hard at him, unblinking. “Go do some research or something before you drive me crazy,” 

He leaves in a flutter of wings with an expression of mixed confusion and frustration as he vanishes, and you sigh, calling a half-sarcastic, “I love you!” to the empty room before turning your attention to Dean. 

“So, to be clear, the closet did not eat you,”

Dean’s mouth twists like he’s trying to smile but it’s gotten stuck somewhere. “Nah,” he says, his voice an octave lower than you were expecting. “Are you okay?”

You shrug, letting out a quiet victory squeak when you finally find where someone has jammed the loaf of bread, all the way in the back of the fridge. “Cas burned the hex bag, I’m good.” And to you, that’s all it is. You’ve been hunting for years; a little hex bag encounter is far from the worst that’s happened to you. And once you caught your breath and wiped the blood off of your lips, it was done. 

“I wonder if there’s a hidden health benefit to puking blood,” you muse absently, debating between mayo and mustard. “Like, they say crying is actually good for your skin, so…” 

Dean is staring at you with a pained expression, and you trail off, blinking at him. “What’s up with you?”

“You almost died, Y/N,” his voice still sounds rougher than usual. 

“Yeah.” You smile at him in a way that you hope is reassuring. “Kinda. But I didn’t. This is a typical Tuesday for us, Dean, what are you...” You let the question hang in the air, unfinished, as you study his face. “Oh, and don’t go thinking it’s somehow your fault. I know you,”

“Yeah, I...kinda got that,”

“What?” 

Dean’s hand reaches into the pocket of his jeans (which, incidentally, do amazing things for his ass) and then he’s pulling out a folded up piece of lined notebook paper and oh. Oh, damn.

His tongue slides out to wet his bottom lip nervously, and you have to make an effort not to watch like a hypnotized creep, and then he flashes you that smile that he sometimes tries on the diner waitresses. The one that says I’m trying to be confident but I’m actually awkward as all hell right now. “It, uh, had my name on it,” he says after a beat, offering it to you like he thinks you’re going to want it back.

Well, it was always for him anyway. Even if part of you wanted to shrivel up and die in embarrassment now that you knew he knew. “You can keep it, Dean. It’s for you.”

He sets it down on the table anyway, leaning one hip next to it and blinking like a deer in the headlights. “Y/N, I--”

You clear your throat. “I hope it wasn’t too awful. I don’t really remember what I wrote.” That’s kind of a lie, especially when it comes to the later two additions, but oh well. 

“No, it-it was good,” Dean’s hand twitches like he’s about to reach toward you, and he curls it into a fist instead. “When did you…”

The question trails off but you know what he’s asking. Blowing out a breath, you abandon your half-made sandwich and reach for the paper on the table instead, unfolding it and sliding closer to Dean. “I wrote this the night after the case at Sonny’s,” you tell him quietly. “I was so damn mad---you were a kid, Dean, you didn’t--” you shake your head, refocusing your thoughts. “I had all these thoughts running around my head and I knew I was going to end up screaming them all at you in the middle of the library one day if I didn’t put them somewhere. I didn’t ever expect you to actually read it.”

 You suck in a breath of surprise as Dean moves to stand behind you, one arm sliding around your waist. It’s entirely unexpected and sends a shiver at the contact running though your entire body, but somehow it feels natural. It’s as if some barrier between the two of you has broken with this letter, and you can’t find it in yourself to mind. By the time his chin finds its way to the top of your head, peeking down at the letter with you, you’ve relaxed into his hold, the solid warmth of him at your back. 

You tap the sheet of paper with one short fingernail, over the words you’d scrawled on repeat, echoing the prayer in your head. Hold on. “That’s from when we were looking for you. Demon you.” You can joke about it now, sort of, so you smirk, wishing you could see his face. “Your little summer of love with Crowley?”

Dean huffs petulantly and tightens his arms around you, and you can picture his pink lips turning into a pout. “It was not,”

“Uh huh, whatever you say,” 

Dean stays silent for a moment, absorbing the information and continuing to hang onto you, and then poses one last question. “What’s the daylight thing from?”

That one’s never going to be funny, and you exhale. “The Mark, after Charlie...you wouldn’t talk to any of us and I just wanted you to know it wasn’t all darkness, you know?”

Dean shudders on a breath behind you, and suddenly you need to see his face. He lets you turn around in his arms, now with the kitchen table against your back, and some bolder part of you slides your hands up to link behind his neck. His green eyes are shining with not-quite-tears as he looks at you, biting off words before he can start speaking. Finally, he settles on familiar ground. Teasing. “So I break your heart, huh?”

You smirk back at him. “Only when you’re stupid.”

He pouts, adorably, and you resist the urge to kiss it off of his face. “When you don’t accept that you deserve good things,” you clarify, leaning closer because Dean is like a goddamn magnet and what are you doing. “That’s just not correct.” The words are spoken a hair’s breadth from his lips, your breath ghosting over them, and Dean closes the gap a heartbeat later.

It’s a hesitant press of his lips on yours, feeling you out like he’s not entirely sure he’s going to be welcome here, and it still feels like being lit up on fire. You’re fully aware that five seconds of kissing this man has turned you into a goddamned cliche, but as you push up on your toes to kiss him back harder, you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Your enthusiasm is all the encouragement Dean needs, and you squeak against his lips as his hands find your hips to boost you up onto the tabletop, parting your legs for him to stand between them as his hand comes back up to tangle into your hair. His other slides up your thigh, thumb grazing over the inside seam of your jeans, and you shiver in spite of yourself. 

Finally breaking away to breathe, Dean moves down to press open mouthed kisses in a trail down your neck, pulling a gasp out of you. “Dean,” you murmur, your fingers raking through his short hair. “Dean,”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” The words are more a vibration against your skin than anything spoken aloud.

“I don’t--mmmh--want to be having sex on the counter when your brother walks in,”

Dean pulls back to look at you, all messy hair and blown pupils, and even though it’s what you wanted, you can’t help but already miss his touch. “Good point,” he rasps out, and before you have any time to react, slides his hands under your thighs to lift you off of the table and into his arms 

“Don’t drop me,” you manage, your ankles locking automatically around his back and your hands tight on his shoulders. “Please,”

Dean chuckles, low, and catches your mouth in a messy kiss that leaves you breathless. “Wouldn’t dare,”

Somehow, you both make it to the door with the gold 11 on it without running into any walls or any of the bunker’s other occupants, which is no small miracle, all things considered. Dean wrestles the door open with his other hand still supporting your weight, dropping you onto the mattress with a hungry look that says he’s going to claim every inch of you. 

You reach your hands out to him impatiently, wanting him closer, wanting to touch. You’re certainly not complaining about the view, but you’ve been looking at him for years. An annoyed noise comes out of your throat when he doesn’t immediately comply, instead smiling down at you with an expression that’s no less passionate, but somehow more gentle than a few moments before. 

Dean comes to sit on the edge of the bed, his hand tracing an aimless path up your ankle and calf, apparently ignoring the sizeable bulge in his own jeans. “Shh, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

He pulls you to sit up and peels you out of your clothes almost reverently, discarding them across his bedroom floor until you’re left in just the plain underwear you’d put on that morning, and you can hear his breath catch when he looks at you. 

Every other guy you’d ever slept with got both of you naked like it was a speed competition, treating the whole thing as purely physical. Which you supposed it was, given that every other guy you’d slept with had been briefly vetted over the course of a few beers and then picked up out of whatever bar you were in that night. Hunter-style hookups. No strings attached.

But Dean is looking at you like you’re something otherworldly, and while you’re not sure you deserve it, it brings a warm feeling to your chest that has nothing to do with the sensation of him licking his way over your breasts and down to the line of your underwear. He pauses there, his fingertips sliding just under the waistband, and looks up at you with those reverent green eyes for permission. 

“Dean, just hurry up,” you tell him, impatience running through your voice. You’re already flushed and panting, probably looking like a complete wreck spread out over his sheets, and he hasn’t even done anything yet. 

Then suddenly his tongue is licking a stripe directly over your cunt without any warning and an involuntary cry escapes you at the sensation. So much for not scarring anyone else in the bunker, you think wryly, and then all rational thought flees your brain as Dean slides a finger inside you, busying his tongue with rapid little flicks over your clit. “Oh god, Dean, fuck,” 

Your hand flies down to clutch at his head as he slides a second finger in to join the first, just enough sense left to remind yourself not to mindlessly suffocate him against your cunt. The sensation is overwhelming and still somehow not enough, keeping you right on the edge without sending you over, and underneath it all there’s still an undercurrent of gentleness that takes your breath away in a whole other way. “I can’t--please, I--” you pant out, no longer sure if you’re even making sense. 

Dean hums softly, the vibration running through you, and your hips buck up involuntarily in search of more friction. His mouth moves to suck your clit between his lips, his fingers curling inside you at the same time, and you fly apart with a shout, your head falling back and your entire body tensing through what has to be the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Not that you’re going to tell him that.

“Jesus, Dean,” you breathe out when you can see straight again. “Just...Jesus.” 

Dean chuckles softly, his lips and chin still glistening with your wetness, and he seems perfectly content in spite of narrowly surviving being squeezed to death between your thighs. A few more of your brain cells come back online, and suddenly you’re staring at him in puzzlement. “Why are you still dressed?”

He takes that as his cue to climb off of the bed and strip, and all of those damn layers end up making it a teasing show for you even if that wasn’t his goal. Dean shrugs out of the flannel first, then strips off the shirt underneath and unbuckles his belt. By the time he’s left standing in just his boxers, you’re unashamedly two seconds from drooling and he’s painfully too far away from you. 

Dean drops the boxers before coming back to kneel over you, his cock rock hard against his stomach. You’d never thought about a man’s junk as “beautiful” before, but it’s the word that comes to mind as you reach out to wrap your hand around him, thumb swiping over the tip and watching him shudder in response. Instead of letting you continue, though, he pulls your hand away, lacing his fingers in both of yours and resting your linked hands above your head as he leans forward to kiss you. 

It’s sweet, unexpected but perfect, and when he finally slides inside you, leaving you both gasping at the feeling, it seems dangerously close to making love. Dean gives you a moment to adjust to the size of him filling you up, only moving after your hips have rocked up into him, urging him on. 

Somehow you’d thought that being carried through the bunker, all tangled tongues and occasionally teeth, had set the stage for something wild. Or maybe that was just you projecting your assumptions of what Dean would be like in bed. And you had no doubt he could be, but this was...soft. Slow, no matter how much you tried to urge him faster, and you lost yourself in the slide of his cock, the rhythm of his body against you, the feeling of his hands holding onto yours.

He was watching you with an expression that was half lust and half love, the slow roll of his hips hitting just right inside you, and a low groan rips out of his throat when you tighten your walls around him. “Come for me, baby,”

Dean releases one of your hands to slip between your bodies, his thumb flicking over your clit in time with a sharper snap of his hips, and it shatters you. The slow build has you flying apart screaming, clinging to Dean like he’s the only thing left holding you together as your orgasm breaks over you in waves. 

He follows you over the edge a few moments later, falling forward to press his lips to yours with an expression of pure, blissed-out pleasure on his face. For a while, neither of you move, lost in the moment and not quite capable of higher brain function. 

Eventually, Dean pulls back to look at you with a goofy grin on his lips, pulling a startled laugh out of you at the expression, and you clean up and rearrange yourselves smiling like a pair of fools, which, you suppose, you kind of are. 

Afterward, you lay curled into Dean’s side, legs tangled together and your hand resting over his heart and his anti-possession tattoo while his fingertips trace random patterns over your hip. He’s the first one to break the silence, tilting his head to look at you with warm green eyes. He’s close enough that you could probably count the freckles dashed across his face, but he’s distracting you with words instead. “You make me happy,” he says, voice low, and you’re suddenly reminded of the last wish you wrote in that letter.

“Good,” you say stoutly, warmth ballooning in your chest at the words. Dean already looks awkward and slightly red at the little confession, though, and you’re not going to drag more emotions out of him. You lean up briefly, planting a quick little peck on his lips, and snuggle back down against him, just existing in your own little world for a brief, precious moment. 

----

Dean wakes up alone. Instinctive panic is choking him as he scrambles up, his still half-asleep mind wondering automatically if she’s safe, if something has gotten to her. 

Closer inspection of his bedroom floor would have shown him that wherever she was, she was wandering around without any of her clothes, and thus probably hadn’t gotten that far, but Dean doesn’t bother thinking that through. He shoves his legs into a pair of sweats that are slung over the back of the desk chair, almost falling flat in his rush, and bursts out into the hallway. 

His green eyes are wild and his hair is still styled with the aftermath of sex and sleep, and Sam’s startled reaction to seeing him tear his way into the war room shouldn’t come as a surprise. 

“Morning,” Sam says dryly, looking over his brother from head to toe. “Dean--what?”

“Have you seen Y/N?” Dean gets out through the panic that’s suddenly thick in his chest. 

“She’s outside,” Sam gestures up the bunker stairs to the door, shrugging in a way that suggests that all of this is completely casual. “Dude, what--”

Dean’s already gone, up the bunker stairs and out the door still shirtless and barefoot, and there she is. All of the knots in his stomach are washed away in an instant, looking at her on the bunker’s concrete front step. She’s safe. She’s okay. 

She’s just wearing his flannel, the material drowning her hands and falling to her thighs, and she’s barefoot too. She turns at the sound of him opening the door, coffee mug in hand, and her eyes light up when they land on him. “Look, Dean,” she says with a sunny smile, and he can breathe again. Y/N tilts her head to the sky, hair stirring in the breeze against her borrowed flannel collar, and she’s looking at the peach and purple sunrise painting the sky when she speaks. “Daylight.”

He’s looking at her. 

[simsadventures]

Wreak Havoc

Bucky Barnes x The Atomica (Reader), WInter Soldier x The Atomica

Summary: Bucky remembers you from his time as the Winter Soldier. And he can’t help but miss the times when you two would chase each other.

Warnings: swearing, violence, death (barely mentioned), implied smut, dirty talk

Word Count: 1892

A/N: This little something is for my friend Meg’s writing challenge @sebbbystaaan​ , with the prompt being the song Wreak Havoc…#sebbbystaaans500writingchallenge  I know, I’m so original with the title of this story. Anywho, congrats Megs, I love you loads, and I hope you and all of you who are reading it will enjoy this story. Please, leave feedback :) xx

Bucky Barnes Masterlist __ Masterlist

When Bucky came into the room, he immediately knew what was going on. He could see Steve and Natasha, from the corner of his eye, looking around and observing what was left of his old Hydra base. Bucky could see them picking up debris, and he knew that they were talking, musing over what might have happened or who it was that caused so much damage, but Bucky didn’t listen to them too much.

His mind was clouded by old images of a person he thought he had long forgotten. The Atomica. He knew you from the times of his Winter Soldier years, from the time he wished he could have forgotten. But not you, never you.

Bucky could never really figure out what it was about you that made even the Winter Soldier snap, in his own way. You were a person that was extremely difficult to read for him. Your moral compass was fluid, and nobody could ever say if you were good or bad.

Lucky for Bucky, you never were his mission. He couldn’t muster why, but Hydra never set a price for your head, and Bucky was forever grateful for that.

Whenever the two of you met, it would always end up in one way. And Bucky missed it. He missed your firm but soft body writhing underneath him, trying to overpower him even in bed but eventually giving him the feeling he had the power over you. Bucky knew, in the back of his mind, that it wasn’t actually so, but he was happy you played the charade with him.

Bucky’s mouth turned into a smile, as he recalled all those meetings, fighting either together or against each other. He had to work for his money if he wanted to get you, he knew that much. But he also knew that you weren’t as rough as you wanted people to believe. Bucky didn’t necessarily know your soft side, or if you even had one, but he knew that you had feelings just like everybody else. You just kept them private well enough for all your enemies to think that you were actually a stone-cold bitch.

Steve called at Bucky, and he snapped out of his daydream. He knew it was you from the little things in the room. You never played with your victims, always hitting them so fast they didn’t even know they were attacked. That’s how you got your name. The Atomica. Just like an atomic bomb, you were lethal if launched, and slightly dangerous even if laid aside.

You always preferred to work alone, and you always honoured the people you fought. It was one of the most notable things on the scene, the four soldiers laid outside the base so that the bodies wouldn’t burn to ashes. Their eyes were covered by cloths, their hands crossed over their chests. You wanted the families to at least have bodies to bury. Natasha tried to get some prints off of specific evidence, but Bucky knew better. You never left anything behind you.

“Don’t even bother. She wouldn’t be so stupid to lead us right to her,” Bucky said with a grin. Steve and Natasha shared a quizzical look before they turned back to Bucky, confusion written all over their faces.

“She? What are you talking about, pal? You know who’s behind this? I mean, less work for us, but still,” Steve shrugged and waited for Bucky to begin explaining.

Bucky wasn’t too fond of sharing details of his time as the Soldat, but he knew it was pertinent. And he didn’t have to give them too many details. Just your MO and some general information Bucky could think of.

“Her name is Atomica, you might have heard about her,” Bucky began, and Natasha took in a deep breath.

“I mean, I’ve heard about her, but I thought it was all fables. Nobody is this crazy,” Natasha scoffed, and Bucky laughed at her.

“Oh, but she is. You never know with her, she might be on a mission to help her stop somebody or to kill you. I feel like it depends on her current mood, really. But she is meticulous at her job. She never makes mistakes, she is careful, and she knows what she’s doing.”

“Sounds like you have a crush on her, or something, bud,” Steve said with a smirk, and if he didn’t know any better, he could have sworn Bucky actually blushed a little. But, like a true gentleman, Steve didn’t comment on it. He would ask Bucky when they were alone.

Bucky wanted to tell them a little more about you, but then he heard rustling from somewhere behind him.

The trio tried to find the source of the noise, but couldn’t see anything. They wanted to disregard it as some kind of an animal, but then the rustling sounded again.

They were all in their fight modes, alert and restless. It was coming from the woods, they were sure of that. But even with their super-soldier sight, they couldn’t see anything. Until they saw everything.

You were listening to the conversation unfolding in front of the base, and you had to smile to yourself. So he did remember you. That was a good sign.

When you heard that the Winter Soldier wasn’t the Soldier anymore, you were disappointed. You loved the little cat and mouse chase you two had going on for years. The both of you being enhanced, it gave you so much more time to actually chase each other, unbothered by the ticking clock. You knew the Winter Soldier was only doing his job and that, even the machine-like man needed to let off some steam from time to time.

And that used to be your job. No matter how brutal the fight, the Soldier obviously had a soft spot for you. Not that kind that would keep you alive was he to get a mission to blow your head off. You were fun of yourself, but even you knew that you wouldn’t stand a chance.

But then a piece of information got to you, that even though he wasn’t the Soldier anymore, the person was still alive and fighting. You had a lot of stuff to do, creating chaos was your favourite past time. But then you stumbled upon the Hydra base, and based on the information you gathered throughout the years, you knew that these assholes didn’t deserve to have a fucking base. So you simply destroyed it.

And then you waited. You hoped they would come. No, scratch that. You hoped he would come. And true to your intuition, here he was, in the flesh.

He looked different but good different. He looked much healthier like he was actually getting enough sleep compared to last time you saw him. Well, last time you saw him was almost 15 years ago, so it was no surprise that he looked a bit different. You didn’t know if he would remember you, but from the conversation, he had with his friends, and the little smirk on his kissable lips, you knew he remembered just alright.

You couldn’t wait anymore, and so you made your presence known. You rustled the leafs a few times just to give yourself a big enough entrée.

When you finally emerged from behind the trees, everybody’s eyes were on you. But you didn’t care about the big bulk of muscles next to the Soldier nor about the pretty redhead. Your sole attention was on James Buchanan Barnes. You didn’t have an agenda or a plan as to what you actually wanted to do with him, all you knew was that you missed him. In your own particular way.

You could see Bucky’s eyes going a little wide before realisation set in as to who you were. He looked as if though he couldn’t believe his own eyes that you stood right in front of him.

“Long time, no see, Soldier. Heard you’ve been keeping busy, new brain and stuff,” you smirked at him as you crossed your arms on your chest.

He scoffed at you, but before he could speak up, Steve did it for him.

“Who are you, lady? Are you the one who caused the chaos here in this building?”

You eyed him up and down but chose to ignore him. He wasn’t your type, and therefore you had no wish to engage in anything with him.

“I must say, I kinda missed you, Soldier. We used to have so much fun together,” you winked at him playfully, and he snorted a laugh.

“If that’s what you call fun, doll-“ Bucky started saying, but Steve interrupted him once again.

“We’re here on a mission not to flirt. So unless you wanna tell me what the hell is going on here-“

It was your time to interrupt him. He paid no respect to you, and you weren’t too big of a fan of that. He was too full of himself, so you decided to show him who he was talking to.

You took a swift step towards him, grabbing him by the collar of his gear, and before he could react, you threw him out of your way. He landed with a thud good 10 meters away from you, staring at you with confusion written all over his face.

You could see the little redhead attacking you from the right, and it was no problem at all to duck and catch her ankle, throwing her the same way you sent Captain America.

You ostentatiously wiped your hands and turned back to Bucky.

It was his turn to smirk.

“You didn’t change one bit, did you, Y/N? And to go back to our conversation, yeah, I missed you too, you little spitfire.”

“Who’s little, you old sack of bones, huh? Don’t try and rile me up, pretty boy, I’m riled up alright from the little warm-up the taking down the base was for me, and to be honest, your friends here pissed me as well. So if you wanna get lucky, I advise you not to taunt me,” you playfully nudged his shoulder.

“Nobody was able to satisfy you, were they, Atomica? No matter how many men you’ve been with, nobody makes you quiver the way I do, am I right?” Bucky breathed into your ear as he stepped closer to you, holding you flush against his chest.

You would never admit it out loud, but he was right. You tried getting Bucky out of your system, but nobody was able to make you feel things or reach places Bucky reached within the first few minutes of your very first encounter.

Fire burst in your veins suddenly, and if you weren’t aware that you had an audience, you would’ve jumped his bones then and there.

“Oh, but this is not about me, old man. I just wanted to give you the ride of your new life, as a welcome, if you will,” you seductively whispered to him, and his grip on your hips as suddenly iron-clad.

You both knew that what was coming would be the sex of your lives. And you both rushed inside the woods to find your plane to do the one thing you have both been thinking about for what felt like ages.

Forever Tag:

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Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten​ @paradisiacalsparks​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @owlyannah​ @lassini​ @s-trawberryv-eins​ @reniescarlett​ @bxrnsfeyson​ @the-soulofdevil​ @haru-ririchiyo​ @winterboobear11​

Marvel Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @lumar014​ @ptrs-prkrs​

[ificanthaveu]

Crazy About You || Shawn Mendes

Description: A year after he broke your heart, your old friend is back to visit. You’re more than fine with it. Shawn is not. 

A/N: I’ve had this idea sitting on my list for a while and then the first part just came to me the other night so yeet. but i also rewrote this ending like 4 times because I wasn’t happy with literally anything, but I think I like this one. hope you love it!!

Word Count: 5.2k

The laptop on your lap kept feeling heavier and heavier as you tried to finish going through emails before 7:00pm hit. You were perched up in the corner of the couch outside of Shawn’s fitting, trying to catch up on the emails you accidentally didn’t look through yesterday. Your legs were going numb, and you kept glancing at the time, praying Shawn would be done soon and maybe you could get out of here early.

Your vision blurred the screen as you downed the rest of your coffee, knowing it was going to be a late night. You blinked a few times and widened your eyes before forwarding another email to Andrew with your thoughts about it. You were snapped out of your rhythm when you heard the door creak open next to you.

Shawn’s head popped out and scanned the room until his eyes landed on you.

“I need your opinion,” he said with a smile. You sighed as you closed your laptop and followed him into the room. 

Tiff was glancing back and forth between two suits hung up on a rack in the front of the room. She glanced back at you and rolled her eyes.

“He won’t pick one, [Y/N]. Please hit some sense into him. I’m tired. It’s Friday night. I do not want to be here any longer,” Tiff complained as she threw her hands up in the air in defeat. You laughed quietly at her as you walked closer to look at the outfits hung up.

“You do look good in blue, but I feel like you wore something similar to this before,” you said as you ran your hand down the collar of the royal blue suit with a polka dot shirt under it. You glanced over at the other one and looked it up and down before nodding your head.

“Definitely go with this one,” you said as you felt the material in your hand. It was a very dark green suit with a white semi-sheer button up underneath it. “It’s classic but just borderline different. It suits you,” you said before looking back over at him as he studied the suits.

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re definitely right,” he said as he nodded and grabbed the suit to put it on again to finish the measurements. Tiff groaned and leaned against the wall behind her.

“I said that multiple times, Shawn!” She yelled as he made his way to the next room. 

“Sorry!” He yelled before shutting the door. You sighed as you sat down in the chair next to Tiff. 

“I don’t know how you deal with his ass every day,” she said to you as you opened up your laptop and sent out the last of your emails. 

“It’s definitely an adventure,” you said with that tone of voice Shawn hated. 

“You’re coming this weekend, right?” She asked you as she leaned against your chair.

“Nope,” you said as you shut your laptop for the final time. She gave you a look and brought her hand to her chest. 

“You mean you aren’t accompanying him to the People’s Choice Awards? You’re the only one I trust to actually keep him alive. Dressing him is going to be a nightmare if you aren’t there,” Tiff exaggerated as she started to pace.

“Andrew will be there. Brian will probably tag along,” you rationalized.

“That’s even worse,” she groaned as she rested her head in her hands. “Why do you get this weekend off and I don’t?”

“My friends from back home are visiting,” you paused and glanced down at your watch. “Actually their flight just left four minutes ago.”

“Why couldn’t they do next week?”

“Because they’re in school, and this is the last week that all three of them could do.”

“Who’s coming?” She asked as she started calming down.

“Meg, Charlie and Wells. They were two years younger than me in high school, and I honestly can’t even remember how we met. I usually call them my kids because I honestly feel like I’m their mother sometimes,” you mumbled. 

“So that’s why you do so well with Shawn,” she whispered. You stifled your laugh as Shawn walked out in the suit. You and Tiff both nodded your head as he stuffed his hands in the pockets. 

“That’s definitely the one,” Tiff said as she crossed over to him and began making sure everything fit correctly. Shawn kept flinching and moving as she played with the fabric. “Cut it out,” she said as she pinched his arm. He groaned and looked over at you as you gave him the look he always dreaded. He immediately stopped moving. 

“Remind me again how I’m going to do this without you this weekend?” Tiff asked as she straightened Shawn’s collar. Shawn looked over at you with a confused look.

“What do you mean without you?” He said with some panic in his voice. 

“My kids are visiting this weekend. Remember?” 

“I thought that was next weekend,” he said as he glanced down at the ground.

“Nope, and if you actually checked the Google calendar every once in a while, you would’ve known this months ago. Or if you would listen to me when I tell you you’re on your own this weekend…” you trailed off as he groaned. 

“Ok, ok, I get it. You can stop,” he cut you off. Tiff wrote down a few side notes on her notebook and glanced between the two of you. 

“But if you misbehave, I’ll still be there in five minutes flat, and I won’t be happy about it,” you said with that voice as Shawn stayed quiet. Tiff smiled and winked at you as she closed her notebook and patted Shawn on the shoulder.

“Go change,” she said to him as he nodded his head and began to walk away. Tiff crossed the room and sat on the edge of the chair you were sitting in. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” she said as she leaned her head back. You just laughed at her as you leaned back as well. 

“He’s really not difficult,” you said as she gave you a look and you rolled your eyes. “He isn’t. Yeah, he definitely gets annoying sometimes and acts like a five-year-old, but when it gets down to it, he’s the best I’ve ever worked with.”

“So why did Shawn look so uncomfortable when you brought up your friends?” She questioned as she raised her eyebrows at you. You sighed and glanced down at your hands.

“Meg and Charlie are dating. Have been almost three years now. But Wells…” you trailed off as you finally looked back up at Tiff. “We used to have feelings for each other. At different times. Once I caught feelings, he was over me already. Like, yeah, we’re friends now, but it’s still weird sometimes. Shawn met him when we were in my hometown for a show, and he hasn’t liked him ever since,” you said. 

“He obviously isn’t a shitty guy, right? I mean if you’re still friends with him, and he’s coming to visit you.”

“No, he’s great. Why’d you think I had a crush on him?” You asked. She just shrugged her shoulders before you continued. “I guess Shawn just gets protective sometimes since that whole thing was the reason Shawn and I get along so well now. I’d just started the job when I found out Wells didn’t feel the same way about me anymore, so he had to pick up the pieces.” 

“Damn, what a way to bond with your boss,” she joked. You rolled your eyes at her as Shawn walked back into the room and handed Tiff the outfit. 

“Ready?” He asked as he looked down at you. You nodded your head as you stood up, and you both thanked Tiff. She pulled you in for a hug.

“Ever think he’s not just being protective?” She whispered. She pulled away from you and gave you a look. You gave her a confused look as a response before turning to catch up with Shawn who was already out the door.

“Call me if you need anything, ok?” You said as you half leaned out the door. 

She nodded her head before motioning for you to leave, “yeah, yeah, go enjoy your weekend.”

You waved one last time before meeting Shawn by the elevator as he leaned against the wall and looked down at his phone. The two of you stayed silent as the elevator opened and you both walked in. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Alright, what’s up?” You said finally facing him as you crossed your arms. He sighed and shoved his phone in his pocket and glanced over at you.

“Wells?” He said in that tone of voice you hated with that damn look on his face you rarely saw.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” you responded as you reciprocated the voice and the look. He rolled his eyes at you.

“Oh, of course not, just that you literally have only seen him once since he broke your heart, but go ahead and spend the weekend with him,” he said in a smart-ass tone.

“Listen, Charlie and Wells go everywhere together, and they, along with Meg, are the reason I ever even stayed connected to people in my hometown. They helped me through a lot of shit when I was deciding whether or not to take this job. They’re the reason I’m here. I don’t give a shit if you don’t like Wells because you’re not the one who’s friends with him,” you snapped back at him. You’d fought about this a few times before, and you definitely didn’t want to get into it again.

Shawn just stared at you. He had a blank look on his face that you’d never really seen before. You tried to calm down your breathing before you said something you’d regret. 

“I just don’t want you getting hurt again,” he finally said. 

“And I won’t.”

“You can’t promise me that,” he said with a smirk. Your jaw nearly dropped as you looked at him. His face was tight and his jaw was locked. He wouldn’t look at you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mumbled as the elevator door opened and you stormed towards your car with Shawn right on your heels. 

You unlocked just the driver door and climbed in, leaving Shawn to be pulling at the door handle that wouldn’t open.

“[Y/N],” he said sternly as he knocked on your window. You cracked it open and looked over at him with a smile on your face that was faker than you’d ever pulled off.

“You can Uber home,” you said with a sickly sweet voice. It was his turn to have his jaw drop as you locked your door and started to roll up your window. 

“Your suitcase is still at my condo. And I know you need it for this weekend,” he said before you could get the window all the way up. 

“Then I guess maybe I’ll see you there,” you said as you started your car and drove off, leaving Shawn to stand there, utterly shocked. 

You were never someone to speed, but you were determined to get to Shawn’s and back into your car before he could get there. Sure, Wells broke your heart, but that didn’t mean he was a horrible person. He couldn’t help that he didn’t have feelings for you just like you couldn’t help your feelings for him. You understood why Shawn was upset, but he didn’t need to take it out on you like this.

You sped into the parking lot and quickly parked your car. You dug in your glove compartment and tried to find Shawn’s spare key you kept in there. You finally found it and jogged inside. You waved to the doorman and said a quick hello before taking the elevator to the top floor. You sped walked down the hall and opened the door at the end. 

You looked around the living room before you found your suitcase next to his in the corner. You grabbed your coat that was next to it and slipped it on before yanking the suitcase towards the door. You closed the door behind you and locked it before walking back down the hallway. 

You waited for the elevator to come up, and when it opened, Shawn walked out. 

“Leaving so soon,” he said sickeningly sweet with a smile as fake as plastic.

“I have friends to pick up at the airport. Enjoy your weekend, asshole,” you said as you tried to walk past him. He grabbed your arm before you could move any further. 

“Their flight doesn’t get in for two more hours,” he said without looking at you. You looked up at him as he looked over at you. “I checked the damn Google calendar.” 

“Well, then I can stop home and change,” you said as you attempted to yank your arm out of his grasp.

“Nope, we’re talking about this,” he said as he began to walk towards his apartment. He turned around and looked at you, waiting for you to follow him. You didn’t say a word as you stood there with your arms folded and a scowl on your face. 

“Come on, [Y/N]. I’m not letting us fighting get in the way of both of our weekends. I know you, and I know you’ll take this out on your friends. Even though I wouldn’t care if it was on Wells, but I like Charlie and Meg. So let’s go,” he said as he motioned towards his apartment.

You hated that he was right. 

You yanked your suitcase towards you as you stomped past him and back to his apartment. You leaned against the wall as he unlocked the door and motioned for you to go inside. You parked your suitcase next to the door and took a seat on a stool by his island in the kitchen as he leaned against the counter across from you.

“Why do you hate Wells so much when I’m clearly over it? I would get it if you still hated him because he cheated on me or was a shitty guy or because I was still mad at him, but none of those are true. I just don’t understand your hatred for one of my closest friends,” you said without trying to let your voice raise. 

Shawn hung his head as he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think of how he could phrase this without making you angry again.

“You barely knew me. You’d been working for me for less than a month. Yet, you still cried in my arms when Wells told you he didn’t have any feelings for you. Up until that point, you were completely professional with me. I hated that that was the moment that broke it in. I wanted to become friends with you normally, not because you needed someone to cry to, and I happened to be the person that was there,” he explained. 

“Shawn, we would’ve become friends anyway. We didn’t just become friends because I needed someone to cry to,” you said softly as you tried to meet his eyes, but he kept avoiding your gaze.

“I just don’t trust him. What kind of person just texts you that they don’t have feelings for you?” Shawn said as he still tried to keep his cool.

“He was a kid. He’s grown up since then.”

“It’s been a year.”

“A year is a long time in college.”

You both stayed quiet as you picked at your nails and Shawn stared at the counter. 

“You can just go,” he finally said without looking up at you. You hit your hands against the counter as you prayed he’d finally look at you.

“Are you serious?” You said with the anger coming back.

“This isn’t getting anywhere. I still don’t like Wells. You still do. No amount of conversation is going to change either of our opinions,” he said. You could hear the frustration in his voice. “Be honest with me, do you still have feelings for Wells?” He said as he finally looked you in the eyes.

You couldn’t look at him anymore as you looked next to his head instead. 

“Look at me, [Y/N].”

You finally looked at him in the eyes. You could see the hurt from a mile away.

“Do you still have feelings for him?” He asked again.

“No,” you choked out. 

Shawn shook his head as he moved past you and into the living room. 

“I don’t have feelings for him,” you reiterated as he sat on the couch. 

“Really? Because I’m having a hard time believing it,” he said as he looked over at you. 

The two of you stayed silent again. Every moment with Wells and Shawn turned through your head. You didn’t have feelings for Wells. You could promise that. But if Shawn asked you any more questions about who you had feelings for, you were going to say something you might regret.

“He was the first guy who ever paid attention to me. Yes, I will always love him, and there will always be a place for him in my life, but I will never see him as more than a friend,” you said as you stood up and walked towards Shawn.

“Just go, [Y/N],” he said without looking at you, instead focusing on the wall across from him. He sounded exhausted. You turned around and walked towards the door, grabbing your suitcase and opening the door.

“Hey, Shawn,” you said softly. He finally looked up at you with a sigh.

“Good luck this weekend. Don’t trip. Call me if you need anything,” you said as you rested your hand on the doorknob. He nodded his head and attempted a smile. 

“Tell the kids I said ‘hi,’” he responded. 

“I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

“I think we both know that’s not a good idea,” he said before standing up, walking into his room and shutting the door. 

You took a deep breath before closing the door behind you and storming down the hallway.

He was unbelievable. How did he think this conversation was going to turn out? Did he really think you were going to just accept that he hated one of your closest friends?

You continued to grumble to yourself as you drove home, as you changed and on your ride to the airport. 

You leaned against a pole near the back of the terminal as you waited for your friends to walk out. Meg was first as she scanned the room for you. Before you could even stop yourself, you were sprinting towards her and into a hug. She held you close as you felt four more arms come around you as well. You buried your head in Meg’s shoulder as you tried to hold your tears in. Everyone finally let go and looked at you. 

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asked as he could read your expression like a book. You released a breath and pulled your sweatshirt sleeves over your hands.

“It’s been a long day,” you managed to croak out. No one said anything. 

“Let’s get going, yeah?” Wells finally said. He rested his hand on the bottom of your back as you started to walk towards the parking lot. 

No one said anything else as you all got into the car and sat in silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Meg finally said from next to you. 

“Am I an idiot?” You finally said. All three of them thought about how they were supposed to answer that. Before anyone could make up their minds, you continued. “No, seriously. Like, am I the stupidest person alive? That I’m still friends with you,” you said as you looked at Wells. His eyebrows raised and his face turned red.

“[Y/N],” Meg warned as you continued getting angry.

“Why am I like this? You broke my heart, and we’re still friends and I’m ok with it! I don’t even like you like that anymore! So why doesn’t Shawn believe me when I tell him that,” you ranted as you started your car and started driving - no - speeding. “I’m trying so hard to understand why he hates Wells so much. I’ve thought about it way too damn much, and there’s no rational answer. He’s explained it multiple different ways, and I’ll never get it.”

The whole car stayed silent as you kept speeding down the freeway. You dodged in and out of lanes, and you could see Meg grip onto her armrest from the corner of your eye. You made it back to your apartment in record time and parked your car in your usual spot. Meg gave the boys a look as she removed your keys from the ignition and handed your apartment key to the boys. They silently got out and walked into your building.

“Well, hello to you, too,” she finally said. You groaned as you hit your head against the steering wheel.

“I’m an asshole,” you mumbled. She rested her hand on your back as you looked over at her. 

“What happened?” She asked softly.

“Shawn doesn’t like Wells. We fought about it. It wasn’t good,” you replied. She nodded her head. 

“Why are you mad about it?” She asked. You gave her a confused look.

“Because I care about his opinion, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s my boss.”

“So what? No one else’s bosses care about their personal life.”

“But Shawn’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because…he just is,” you said carefully. Meg narrowed her eyes at you as you avoided her gaze.

“There’s a reason, and we both know that reason,” she whispered. 

“If I don’t say it out loud, it’s not true,” you mumbled. 

“My love, that’s not how it works,” she said in as soft of a tone as she could muster up. She rubbed her hand up and down your back a few more times before unbuckling her seat belt. 

“You know what you have to do?” She asked as she opened her door. You nodded as you put your keys back in the ignition. She leaned down and looked into the car at you.

“I love you,” she said with a smile.

“I’d be dead without you,” you said as you smiled sadly at her. She shrugged her shoulders and smirked.

“Yeah, I know.” She slammed the door and waved you off. You backed out and made your way back onto the freeway.

You didn’t speed this time. Instead, you took your time as you took the all too familiar route. You pulled up in front and parked your car as you slowly made the walk back up. 

You knocked a few times. The door was opened, and Shawn looked at you like he knew this was coming. He motioned with his head for you to come in. 

“Where’s the gang?” He asked.

“Back at my place,” you said quietly, not trusting your voice to go any louder. “You were right. I took it out on them,” you said through a laugh you tried to make sound real. It didn’t come out that way. “I don’t think Wells is happy with me right now.”

He didn’t say anything like you expected him to. There was no smart response. He just stood there. 

“Nothing?” You asked. He shook his head slowly.

“It’s not worth it,” he said. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally said. “I’m sorry I snapped at you and that I didn’t drive you home and that I was an asshole.”

“You were only an asshole because I was an asshole. You were justified. I was not, and I’m sorry,” he said as he looked you in the eyes. He was leaned against the wall in the kitchen as you stood against the counter, a comfortable distance between the two of you. 

“I hate that I’m making you mad over this, but I just can’t look at this situation and be ok with it,” he explained for what felt like the millionth time.

“You don’t have to understand. You’re not friends with him,” you said back to him. He sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall and looked at the ceiling.

“But I’m your friend, too, right?” He asked as he looked at you. You nodded your head. “And I can’t watch you be how you are around him. You’re uncomfortable, yet somehow you’re still always trying to impress him. Your hometown show was painful. It was a constant shift between being by his side and trying to avoid him. Make up your damn mind about it,” he said as you could feel him getting angry.

“It’s not your choice to make.”

“Then make yours,” he snapped. The room was silent again as you tightened your hands into fists, feeling your nails digging into the palms of your hands, trying not to snap like he just did.

“Why are you really mad about this?” You questioned cautiously. He stayed quiet as he avoided your eyes again. “None of my other friends have a problem with Wells and I still trying to be friends. Why do you have a problem with it?”

“Because I didn’t know you before. I didn’t know you and Wells when you guys were just friends the first time,” he answered.

“That explains nothing,” you tested. You could feel your heart beating faster at the stupidity of everything. You could see the muscles in Shawn’s forearms pop out as he clenched his hands into fists. 

“I don’t know what else I can say, [Y/N]. That’s all I have,” he said as he folded his arms across his chest. 

You shook your head as you leaned your elbows on the counter and rested your head in your hands, trying to think of how the two of you could get through this in a way where everyone won. There wasn’t. 

“I don’t know what else you want me to say, Shawn. Nothing you say will justify your dislike for Wells. Nothing I say will make you like him. I’m at a dead-end here, and I can’t just pretend it’s not something that’s happening since you’re both extremely important to me. I honestly don’t know what’s going to fix this, so if you magically suddenly have an idea, go ahead and say it because I’m done,” you border-line yelled. 

Shawn stayed quiet and still avoided looking at you. It felt like an eternity. 

“I have guests who genuinely want to spend time with me, so I’m going to go,” you said softly. “I’ll see you Monday for the meeting.” You grabbed your keys off his counter and made your way to the door. Shawn stepped in front of you before you could make it to the door, the two of you standing just centimeters apart. 

You tried to steady your breathing as you looked up at him, and he was already looking down at you. 

“Don’t go,” he said barely above a whisper. 

“I can’t do this shit anymore, Shawn. I can’t keep begging,” you said as you stepped back, not wanting to be too close, but Shawn stepped towards you again. You didn’t move. 

“What are you doing?” You whispered as you looked up at him, your back pressed against the counter.

“You know exactly what I’m doing,” he said. 

“This is a horrible idea.”

“I know.” There was a silence as he stayed close to you. You could feel his breath against your lips. “Then stop me.”

You didn’t stop him.

Your breath stopped short as he stood pressed up against you, one hand gripping on to the counter, the other moving your hair behind your ear. You could feel his heart beating rapidly against yours. You could feel him shaking. He finally leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. 

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer as you kissed him back. Your hand ran up into his hair and tugged slightly as he groaned into your mouth. His arms hooked under your legs and lifted you onto the counter. Your hands came to his cheeks and ran your thumbs along his cheekbones. You both pulled away to catch your breath. His forehead rested against yours as you both breathed deeply. Your hands remained on his shoulders as he rubbed circles along your hips.

He looked up at you and met your gaze before he leaned in once more to peck your lips a few times. He pulled away again and pulled you into a hug. Your hands ran up and down his back as you buried your head into his chest. Your heart was beating a million miles a minute. 

“That’s why I don’t like Wells around,” he mumbled into your hair. He could feel you smile against his chest before you pulled away and looked up at him, running your fingers carefully through his hair. “Because I’m fucking obsessed with you, and I hate that there’s someone else out there, that you’re friends with, that once felt the same way I do right now. It scares the shit out of me.”

You looked at him like you’d wanted to for the past year, with total love, admiration and every feeling you’d ever had for him. 

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, hun,” you said as you swiped away a loose curl on his forehead before moving your hand to his cheek. He leaned into your touch as the two of you sat there just holding each other.

“I know,” he mumbled. “I’m just crazy about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that came across your face as you pressed a kiss to his forehead before resting yours against his. 

“As much as I want to sit here and talk about how crazy I am about you all night, I have three people waiting at my apartment for me,” you whispered with a small smile. 

He frowned and said, “just stay here.”

You shook your head, and he sighed as he rested his forehead on your shoulder.

“Can I come with then?” He asked. You nodded your head before he helped you off the counter, grabbing your hand as he grabbed his keys and followed you out the door. 

You slowly walked towards the elevator, a comfortable silence between you. You walked into the elevator, and Shawn wrapped his arms around your shoulders as you leaned back into him, lacing your hands with his. 

“I’m excited to see your friends,” he said into your hair. 

“Two hours ago, you wanted nothing to do with them,” you whispered as you looked up at him. You felt him shrug and tighten his grip around you.

“I’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Took you long enough.”

[holidaywishes]

I Just Wanted You

Summary: You and Jamie used to be High School sweethearts before he got drafted. Now it’s nearly 10 years later when you finally see him again and you can’t believe you ever let him go

Warnings: none? more angst than I intended, a tiny little bit of fluff.

Author’s Note: I literally have no idea where this came from. I was going to write the next part in my Gally series or my Freddie series but then... Jamie Benn happened.

masterlist

  The last time you saw Jamie, your heart broke. He had just been drafted to Dallas and asked you to go with him but you said no. The idea of giving up any possibility of your own future just to follow him around as he became something amazing seemed like a selfish request on his part. No matter how much you loved him. So you said no and he said you were over; and your heart broke into a million pieces. Naturally, when your best friend told you that she was getting married to a man who worked in Dallas, you knew the Bachelorette Party was going to be there.

   “Think about it!” Claire exclaimed, “if we have it there, then we can literally just crash at Sam’s place -- which will soon be my place too. AND WE WON’T HAVE TO PAY FOR ANYTHING!”

  “You wouldn’t have to pay for anything anyway...” you argued

  “(Y/N),” she narrowed her eyes at you, “you’re not gonna see him. It’s not like we’re going to the game. Just forget Jamie Benn exists for a bit so we can have some fun at my Bachelorette Party.” Claire had been there for you after your breakup with Jamie. For days, she cuddled next to you in matching Onesie’s watching Meg Ryan Rom Com movies from the 80s and eventually your life went back to normal, so you knew that she wasn’t going to let you get hurt. Not again.

  “Fine,” you finally caved, “we’ll go to Dallas.” Claire jumped up and down with glee before running to grab her phone to send out a mass text.

  “Pack your bags, ladies. This bitch is getting married and her maid of honour is putting on a kick ass Bachelorette Party in Dallas. Three days of alcohol and no rules before I give myself to the only man I’ve ever truly loved. Let’s give Dallas a party like they’ve never seen!” All you could do was giggle and roll your eyes when you read the text as you sat across from your best friend. It was going to be three days of alcohol for sure but there would most definitely be rules.

  Especially with Claire’s group of Sorority Sisters she’d collected over the years.

  The flight from Vancouver to Dallas was a rocky one so touching down felt like you’d all just escaped Death. One of Claire’s friends grabbed a cab as soon as the group got out of the airport and everyone piled in to head to Sam’s place; turning to you for “the plan.”

  “Hmm, okay. Here’s what I’ve got going in my brain...” you started, “drop our stuff at Sam’s, go have a bite to eat -- steak, chili, pizza, whatever, -- come back, get dressed and head out. But understand me ladies, there are rules. There will be one stop at one strip club. No more and we will not be ordering a stripper to the house so count your losses if you don’t get the kind of show you want at the club. No drugs and no drinks from strangers. You meet a guy at the club and you want to go off with him? That’s up to you but make sure your phone battery is full so that if you run into trouble one of us can get you help. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” the girls chanted mockingly and you laughed

  “Alright then..” When it was finally time for the night to begin, the apartment was filled with loud, giddy screams and you weren’t sure what you signed up for; forcing you to take a few too many shots of Tequila before even ordering an Über.

  “Car is here girls, let’s do this” you yelled to the group of girls, frantically checking their makeup in the hall mirror, earning a mocking eye roll from you.

  “WAIT WAIT!” Claire shouted, “we need a selfie first!” The group huddled around Claire and took a few photos -- funny faces, sexy poses, a kiss on the brides cheek and one normal one that Claire chose as her favourite to post.

  @clairebear tagged you in a photo: “My girls and I are ready to show Dallas the true meaning of Party. #werecominforya #hideyoboys #hideyohusbands #Dallas2019 #ifyouresingleletsmingle #ClairesBacheloretteParty2019″

  @(Y/I/H): Counting down until this lady can no longer post hashtags about different cities hiding their men from her. #Clairesgettingmarried #ClairesBacheloretteParty2019.

  It wasn’t long before you’d hit up almost every bar in Downtown Dallas and you could see some of the girls were in desperate need of water so you collected each of them and starting walking down Main Street to find some kind of fast food place to eat when you heard one of the girls scream from the back of the group.

  “What’s wrong!?” you and Claire said at once.

  “Holy fuck! Claire, check your Insta...” Claire hopped on her phone, navigating to the app and immediately looked at you when she saw the comment. You knew it had to be from him, it was the only reason she’d look at you like that.

  “Jamie motherfucking Benn commenting on your post. On a picture of us! Say something back!!!” You and Claire were still deadlocked trying to decide what to do

  “Let’s just step in here and grab some food. We’ll... figure out a reply later” you answered and the girls looked at you dumbfounded. While they ordered, you grabbed a booth and opened your phone to look at the picture, scanning through the comments to find Jamie’s

  @jamiebenn14: you think you can party harder than Dallas? I doubt it but I’m willing to make a bet with you.

  You stared at his comment for too long before you finally noticed that you had a message and your thumb hovered over the little paper plane in the corner of your screen; trying to garner the courage to open it.

  @jamiebenn14 would like to send you a message: long time, no see. You look good.

  That fucker. After ten years, he thinks he can just slide into your DM’s and all will be forgotten. Telling you you look good as if you’d be that gullible, that starstruck, that desperate to cave into him like you always did. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened.

  @(Y/I/H): What’s the bet Benn?

  It was all you could muster. You had heard he was in a relationship and the last thing you needed was to have some chick you’d never met before show up and punch you in the face. You were trying your best not to do anything that might come across as flirtatious or presumptuous but he was your ex...

  @jamiebenn14: Meet me and Ty at the Nines. We’ll show you that Dallas is a better place to party than Kelowna.

  @(Y/I/H): I don’t think so. That wasn’t really the point -- we weren’t implying that Kelowna is a better place to party but that we’re better at partying than anyone in Dallas...

  @jamiebenn14: I don’t think so. You haven’t met these people. You’re out of your league

  @(Y/I/H): I guess I’ve always been out of my league...

  The conversation more or less ended there and you had to pull Claire aside to tell her what was going on, what he was saying, when Shandra overheard and took over the situation.

  “Hell yeah we’ll go to the Nines to meet Jamie Benn and Tyler Seguin!”

  “Shandra shut up!” Claire yelled and you held your face in embarrassment

  “What?! How the hell do you even know them?”

  “We went to High School with Jamie, we’ve never met Tyler before --”

  “And we’re not going to...” you chimed in before Shandra could add in any quips to Claire’s statement.

  “Fine whatever.” You knew that Shandra was going over to the rest of the group and telling them everything, forcing you and Claire to take a deep breath before heading back to the table.

  “Listen to me,” Claire said quickly before the two of you walked back to the table, “you can call it a night. The girls are going to be really aggressive about this and I’m too drunk to say ‘no’ to them right now. So you can call it a night and we’ll pick it up tomorrow. That way you don’t have to see Jamie. And if you block him you won’t have to hear from him...”

  “I’m not bailing on your Bachelorette Party Claire,” you replied, “I’ll survive. I’ll be fine. I’m sure he only looks good on T.V....”

  You were obviously wrong. The second your eyes locked on him at the club, you could feel yourself drooling. He had most definitely gotten better with age and you were the girl who let him go. What an idiot you were.

  “(Y/N), Claire, there you are!” Jamie greeted, pulling Tyler and who you assumed was his girlfriend over, “I was starting to think you weren’t going to take me up on the bet.” You smiled awkwardly but still couldn’t find the words. Why was this so god damn hard?

  “Nice to meet you,” Claire stuck her hand out to Tyler, “I’m Claire.”

  “Tyler and this is Kate” he replied and she gave a small, unenthusiastic wave

  “This is (Y/N)” you were suddenly snapped away from Jamie to greet his teammate.

  “Hi, nice to meet you..”

  “So, you’re the One That Got Away huh?” Tyler said and Jamie gave him a quick nudge, making you huff slightly. You weren’t The One That Got Away, not really, more like the One Who Had Too Much Pride. Your mind was racing. Part of you wanted to stay and get to know Jamie again, another part of you knew it was wrong and that it would end in flames but an even bigger part of you was pissed that he wasn’t describing the situation properly.

  “I’m sorry.. I ca- I have to go..” you stumbled over your words, “I’ll see you at the house Claire. Stay safe please...”

  “Wait (Y/N)” you heard Jamie call after you but you just continued running out of the crowded room. When you finally got out, you noticed that your phone had died and you had to settle for hailing a cab.

  “You’ll never catch a cab” his voice boomed from behind you, sending shivers down your spine

  “You don’t know that”

  “It’s late. I’ve lived here long enough to know when they stop accepting fares.” You looked back at him quickly, and quite pathetically, before getting angry and defensive

  “Fine, I’ll walk then.”

  “You don’t know where you’re going!”

  “I’ll manage”

  “You’ll end up in a ditch”

  “Don’t think so”

  “(Y/N) stop, let me call you an Über or drive you home or something, please..” You stopped walking, your back toward him, and contemplated your options

  “Fine. Order me an Über but then go back inside. I don’t wanna talk to you...” He entered in the address you gave him and tried to get you to talk to him but you refused

  “I don’t get it. What did I do? I barely said anything in there. I couldn’t have offended you that quickly?”

  “Just stop Jamie. Stop talking. It’s not about what happened in there, that doesn’t matter. It’s about what you’re telling people happened back then...”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The One That Got Away?”

  “Yeah..?”

  “Jamie.. you broke up with me because I wouldn’t move here with you”

  “That’s not exactly what happened”

  “No, you’re right. You asked me to skip my graduation, leave my family and my friends to move to a new city with no job prospects or qualifications to be with you. Because your life was more important than mine”

  “I never said my life was more important. I thought you would want to experience this life with me... And I didn’t think we’d survive long distance”

  “You never even tried to give it a chance...”

  “I.. I ju--”

  “Exactly. Look I’m sorry. I’m sorry I came out tonight. I’m sorry I responded to your DM. I’m sorry for everything but you can go back inside. I’ll be fine. Thanks...”

  “Why couldn’t you have at least stayed in touch with me?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “After we broke up? We were friends first before anything and that just went out the window..”

  “You broke my fucking heart!! The last thing I wanted was to keep you in my life without actually having you in my life”

  “Like my heart didn’t break?”

  “You don’t get to play the victim here, Benn, you ended it. I didn’t. I wanted it to work. I would’ve done FaceTime or Skype or emails or texts or anything but you ended it so that was that. You can’t say that your heart broke because you didn’t even fucking try!”

  “(Y/N)”

  “And you moved on rather quickly anyway so...”

  “Not really..”

  “This was a mistake... Have a nice life Jamie. I’ll see you never.” You turned your back to him and waited to hear his footsteps head back inside but they neither dissipated or got closer to you. He never moved.

  “I loved you. Ending it-- us was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Being cold about it seemed like the easiest way to handle it but, ask Jordie, I cried after you told me you wouldn’t stay with me. That you didn’t want to be with me...” You turned around to see a small crowd forming but all you could focus on was Jamie’s sad expression

  “You didn’t give me an option Jamie. I was starting my own life and you were too and I couldn’t take that away from you. I didn’t think you’d take it away from me either but there you were, telling me to drop everything for you. And I would’ve, because I loved you so much, but I didn’t want to resent you”

  “You would’ve resented me?”

  “Maybe... I don’t know. All I know is that it really sucked and it really hurt me that that’s how we were ending.” His gaze dropped to the street and you watched as the headlights from your Über shone across the building, showcasing a small tear on Jamie’s cheek when he looked up at you again

  “I’m sorry...” it suddenly hit you that he said you didn’t want to be with him and your mind raced to find something to say as he started walking away

  “I just wanted you” he stopped dead in his tracks as your words reached him, turning around when the silence was too much to handle, “I would’ve done anything for you, for us, because I just wanted you Jamie. Which is why it hurt so much when we couldn’t find a way to make it work.” He just kind of stared at you and you couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you to continue or if he was trying to come up with something to say himself. You had laid it all out for him again and you couldn’t wait anymore so, you turned to the car waiting for you; opening the door with that same broken heart you had nearly 10 years ago. You heard a quick shuffle of feet and suddenly Jamie’s hand was on your waist and you turned around to meet his stare; he didn’t say anything, only leaned in slowly to capture your lips in a kiss that felt like it had been built up in his system for ages, only stopping when the driver honked his horn.

  “I don’t have time for this. Either get in or shut the door!” With a bright smile, Jamie pulled you away from the car and brought you in for another kiss as he slammed the car door.

[paranetics]

kai and adam, 18

18. “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

Adam is in a constant state of stress; his neck and shoulders are tight with worry because of high school and Michigan and Kai standing right there and laughing. He’s talking to Skeet, his hands in his pockets, backpack at his feet and he’s smiling. Even from twenty feet away Adam knows his right cheek is dimpled.

“Found you,” Mira says, appearing at his side. “Finally.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” Adam snarks, still watching Kai. Mira tracks the line of his gaze, rolling her eyes when she sees him. 

“No, just stalking the baseball captain again.”

“It’s not stalking. We’re friends,” he protests, finally turning to face her. 

She shakes her head lightly. “Adam, dude, you’ve been pining since freshman year.”

“Shut up,” Adam responds. They’ve only been friends since freshman year. There’s no room to pine when you’re friends because in some aspect, at least, Kai occupies a space in Adam’s life. 

“Whatever,” Mira says. “Do you think Reeve would go to homecoming with me?”

Adam glances at her sideways. “Reeve?”

She shrugs. “I would ask you, but, you know,” she purposefully cuts her eyes in Kai’s direction. Adam scowls.

“You should ask him,” Mira continues, oblivious. 

“No way,” Adam says. He glances Kai’s way and catches his eyes. Kai waves enthusiastically across the hall and Adam meekly raises his hand in response. The thing is Adam turns to liquid around Kai, everything that makes him cool to the rest of the student body deserts him in a heartbeat when Kai looks at him from across the classroom and mouths hello. 

“Okay,” Mira says slowly, watching the whole thing. “I heard that Vanessa was thinking about it, anyway.”

Adam watches as Vanessa slides up to Skeet and Kai, sliding her arm through his and grinning, nodding like she knows what’s going on. Adam grits his teeth and revises his earlier plans.

“I’ll think about it.”

–

He does. Obsessively. His calculus professor has to call his name four times before he responds, then he gets the question wrong. On his way out Reeve stops him at the door.

“Are you alright?”

“Hi, Reeve,” Adam says. “Have you seen Mira?”

Reeve’s eyes narrow in sharp suspicion. “What? Why?”

“No reason,” Adam says, backing away, arms tightening around his textbook. “I gotta get to English.”

Adam escapes, and stops at the base of the stairs, glancing between the hall and the doors that lead to the parking lot. He makes a split-second decision, ditching his last class of the day. 

He texts Mira.

I think I need your help

no she says immediately.

Mira he texts come on. It’s Kai

fine she sends, then i’m in class ya dip smell ya later

Later, when class actually lets out, she calls him. Adam explains, half-heartedly, his idea. 

“Oh,” Mira says, “oh wow.”

“You like it?” Adam asks.

“Oh, oh, no,” she says. “This is – without a doubt – the stupidest plan you’ve ever had.”

“Are you in or out?” Adam snaps, irritated.

“Of course I’m in,” she says. 

–

Kai has a game on Friday so Adam gets everything together by Friday. Reeve grabs his elbow on his way into calculus. 

“Dude,” Reeve says. “I had no idea.”

“That I’m gay,” Adam says flatly.

“What? No. Everyone knew that.” he waves his hands. “Just… it’s Kai. He’s captain of the baseball team. You do the trivia team for fun.”

“You are aware I’m a starter on the soccer team,” Adam says. “And Kai does robotics.”

“Yeah,” Reeve says. “Whatever. You do the trivia team. For fun.”

“Okay,” Adam says, heading for his seat. “Good talk, Reeve.”

“The trivia team,” Reeve says behind him, anguished. 

–

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s so nervous he’s gonna mess this up, hands deep in his pockets as he talks Mira’s ear off, verbally pouring all his angst on her. What if Kai doesn’t want to be friends after this? What if it all falls apart? What if Vanessa and Kai really-

“Adam,” Mira interrupts. She rolls her eyes at him. “You’re literally wearing his letterman. Shut up.”

Adam glances down at himself. “Well. He asked me to. Oh, come on,” he adds defensively when she just stares at him blankly. “It’s not like that. Maybe.” he glances nervously at the field. 

“Jesus Christ,” Mira mutters. 

Adam opens his mouth to snark at her but Reeve and Skeet slide into the seat next to Adam, bundled up and looking tired. He glances at them, then leans forward and counts all the people, making sure they’re in place.

“Hi, loverboy,” Reeve says.

Skeet says, “I call best man at your wedding.”

“Excuse me,” Mira yelps, hand to her heart like she’s been wounded. “Who will I be?”

“No offence, Mira,” Skeet says, “but I’d write a better speech.”

“Knock it off,” Reeve says. “The game’s starting.”

Baseball is actually painfully boring at parts, but Reeve’s one of those competitive people super emotionally invested in the actual outcome. They try not to get too loud with their conversation. Adam starts sweating bullets when the game goes into overtime.

“Are you kidding me,” he says at the sky.

“He’s not gonna answer, big boy,” Reeve says. “Sorry.”

Adam scowls at him, wishing that he could black out and autopilot his way through this. 

“At least we’re winning,” Skeet observes. “It’d be awkward if you made this grand gesture right after he lost.”

“That’s the plot of a rom-com right there,” Mira says, grin so wide her face might break. 

“I don’t know,” Reeve says, “they look pretty close to catching up.”

They all glare at him, and say in unison, “Shut up, Reeve.”

–

The game ends and Adam feels his stomach drop to his feet. He stands, wipes his hands on his jeans and looks at his friends.

“I’m going to fuck this up,” he says confidently and starts down the concrete steps to the chainlink fence as the announcer comes over the mic.

“Kai Sanderson, please redirect your attention to the stands,” a deep voice says. 

Adam can see the line of his shoulders straighten and step away from his celebrating team, looking up at the stands with this complacent expression of mild curiosity. The row he was sitting in stands up, takes off their jackets and spell out one word: HOMECMOING? Mira looks down her line, beaming proudly until she realizes Reeve and Skeet have managed to mix up their places.

Kai jogs up to Adam at the fence line.

“Kai Sanderson, please do the honors of accepting Adam’s request.” The announcer sounds like he’s laughing.

“Uh,” Adam says. “This might be awkward, and possibly friendship ruining. And I don’t want you to feel like you’re on the spot to say yes or anything! But I’ve liked you for three years and, I just,” he gestures vaguely behind him.

“Oh,” Kai’s grinning, cheekbones going pink. “Wow. I’m stupid.”

“How?” Adam asks. Kai lifts his shoulder.

“I kinda thought we were already dating.”

“What,” Adam says, mind tripping over itself, hastily backtracking through September and August, snapshots of all the time they’d spent together. 

Kai had taken him to the movies, to an ice cream shop, out stargazing, canoeing, for walks in the forest. He’d given Adam jerseys and jackets and picked him up in the mornings and at night, bringing him coffee and donuts and practicing Spanish for hours on the phone. 

“You met my parents,” Kai says, sheepish. “I asked if you wanted to see The Meg with me. Scary movies are a classic ploy. I thought you knew it was a date.”

“Is that why we shared a milkshake at Dairy Queen?”

Kai laughs. “Dude, that’s why you’re wearing my jacket.”

send me a prompt and a ship + i’ll write a drabble!

[erinchu]

“You’re overthinking– I’m yours. That’s all I want to be.”

*kicks door open* I CHIME IN WITH A HASNT ERIN EVER HEARD OF, WRITING A PROMPT ON TIME, NO!

I’m so sorry this took so long and I don’t even know??? I had this idea in my head and just sort of went with it *shrugs* I hope you enjoy lovely and thank you so much for the prompt!

Love Me Now or Never

It all started with a text message.

“Look, I don’t want to ruin our relationship, professional or…whatever this is, but I would 100% let you wreck me if given the chance.”

Rhys hit send and immediately threw his phone across the room onto his bed. Had he really just done that? What the fuck was he thinking sending a text like that to Handsome Jack!?  He could feel his heart pounding in his chest like a kick drum.

The two had struck up a rather flirtatious relationship over the past few months, which hadn’t been helping the raging crush the young PA had on his CEO. Jack seemed just as interested in Rhys as he was in him and it finally reached a point where Rhys couldn’t even hear his voice anymore without getting hard. For Rhys, it was more than just lust, which, okay, there was a whole lot of lust going on. But Rhys was starting to feel something more for the older man. All these feelings combined created a moment of temporary insanity that had caused Rhys to send that text. Yeah, that was totally why.

The cybernetic man felt his breathing hitch as he heard his phone buzz against his bed sheets. The light from the screen lit up the dark area, shining like a little beacon, begging him to read it. Rhys swallowed dryly as his feet willed him across the room towards the device. Timidly, a flesh hand reached out and took hold of the phone tightly. He slid his thumb across the bottom, unlocking it, prepared to read his fate. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be fired via text.

Rhys let out an audible gasp as he read the two word response from his boss. Simple, to the point and exactly what Rhys had hoped for but not at all what he had expected.

“Ruin it.”

And that was how their ‘relationship’ started. The next day when the two got into work, Handsome Jack pulled his PA into his office, tossed him into his large yellow chair and simply said.

“Well, ready to get wrecked, kiddo?”

They carried on this like for the months to come, seeing each other in and outside of work nearly every day. Rhys was completely smitten with Jack and each day he could feel himself falling more and more for the older man. Jack seemed to be quite taken with Rhys as well, but it was always hard to tell with him. They hadn’t exactly gone public with their affair but they certainly weren’t keeping it on the down low either. Everyone who worked in Jack’s private office, including Rhys’ cubicle mate, Meg, knew what was going on between the two. No one really cared though. It was a common thing for Handsome Jack to do. There was a reason after all he had the habit of hiring beautiful looking PA’s, most of which all were happy to sleep with him whenever he wanted. In Rhys’ mind though, they were dating, exclusively. At least, Rhys was anyway.

It was Friday evening, Jack and Rhys’ usual date night and Rhys was waiting around his apartment for Jack to call him to let him know he was downstairs waiting for him. When an hour had passed and he still hadn’t heard anything, Rhys got worried and decided to call him. It took a few tries but Jack finally answered.

“N’hello?” Jack’s voice was a bit louder than usual, like he was shouting into the phone and Rhys could hear a lot of background noise behind him. Was that music?

“Uh, hey. What’s going on, where are you? Are you okay?” Rhys worried over his bottom lip after he asked that, feeling a bit silly for how worried he had sounded. There was a pause on the line before Jack finally spoke again.

“Um, yeah, I’m fine, cupcake. I can’t really talk right now though, it’s really loud in this club and I’m getting shit reception. I’ll call you after this date is over, it’s going horribly anyway, this girl is about as interesting as a road killed skag. Some broad from the R&D department. Talk about instant regret, ha.”

Rhys felt his whole body stiffen at that word. Had he said…he was on a date?

“Wait, what are you talking about? Jack?”

“I’m sorry babe, I can’t hear you. I’ll call you later! Byeeee~”

Click.

The phone dropped from Rhys’ hand and fell down to the couch, Rhys following shortly after it as he collapsed onto it. Jack was on a date with some random woman from work, like it was no big deal and Rhys was just supposed to sit and wait for Jack to call him after he was done.

By the time Jack had tried to ring Rhys, the younger man was fuming. He was angry with Jack, but mostly he was angry with himself for being so stupid. How could he have allowed himself to get so close, to foolishly think he was the only one Handsome Jack was fucking. It made his stomach turn…Jack was his, or so he assumed.

Jack was tapping his fingers across his knee as the phone rang and rang until finally, Rhys had rejected the call. He furrowed his brows as he stared down at the screen but then smiled a bit as his phone buzzed. Rhys was trying to video call him. Excellent, he had wanted to see Rhys all night anyway, so this was the next best thing. When the call finally connected and he saw the younger man appear on his screen, he smiled wide and waved with his free hand.

“Well hello there, good looking. You have no idea how happy I am to see that face of yours.” Jack had opened his mouth to continue on but was quickly shut down.

“Jack, what the actual fuck?” Rhys snapped, his lip quivering a bit as he tried to keep his cool. This had thrown Handsome Jack for a loop and he looked around a few times before shrugging and shaking his head.

“What? Did I call too late or something?” Jack blinked and looked down at his wrist watch. It was nearly three am but he had called much later in the past before, so surely this couldn’t have upset Rhys that much to merit such a response.

“Are you joking? I don’t care about the damn time, I’ve waited up all night just to hear from you. What did that mean earlier when you said you were on a date with someone?!”

“Oh, well, when two people think they may hit it off, they go out to a place and hang out for a while to see if it ends in sex. At least that’s how it works when I date.” Jack chuckled and clicked air against his teeth a few times as he shot a finger gun towards Rhys. Rhys very visibly deflated and Jack watched as he tilted his head back for a few moments, his eyes just boring into the ceiling. It looked like he was trying not to cry.

“You’re seeing other people, Jack?” Rhys finally asked for a few moments, his voice soft and almost fragile. Jack could clearly hear the hurt in the younger mans tone and it made him feel…guilty almost.

“…Are you not seeing other people, Rhys?” Jack forced out a weak chuckle, his whole playful facade slipping away as he realized the gravity of the situation. He rubbed at the back of his neck as he watched Rhys just sit there silently for a moment and shake his head. Finally, he broke the silence, sniffling a little and clearing his throat before speaking.

“No, I haven’t been dating anyone else, Jack, because apparently I’m a fucking idiot,” Rhys laughed out, trying to mask the pain in his voice. “I figured since we were spending all our time together and you were fucking me, that we were in an exclusive relationship but I’m seeing now that I was wrong.” Rhys quickly swiped his flesh fingers under his eyes to catch any tears that might have dared to break free. Jack swallowed dryly as he watched him, his stomach dropping a little. He wasn’t sure what to say or if he should even speak, so he waited.

“Have you been seeing people the whole time you’ve been with me?” Rhys asked quietly, his nose and cheeks flushing a soft shade of red as he continued to try and hold back his tears. Jack let out a deep sigh and pushed his digits through the grey streak at the front of his hair.

“Look, Rhysie, I’m sorry for whatever I did to make you think just you and I were dating…” Jack began, that sentence alone causing Rhys to screw his eyes shut and whimper softly. Jack kept going though, powering through the heartbreaking sounds Rhys was making. “But yes, I have been seeing other people. I’m not really a ‘one person’ type of guy. Come on, kiddo. You had to know that when we first started all this up…Fooling around with me is basically in the job description at Hyperion. I don’t do the whole exclusive thing.”

Jack had had this conversation in the past many times with several men and women who had made the same mistake of thinking they were the only person in Jack’s life in that way. But somehow now, having that same conversation with Rhys made him feel sick. Those words felt wrong aimed at Rhys. He wanted to take them back as soon as he had said it, but it was too late now. It was out there and there was no changing that.

It was uncomfortably silent for a long while and Jack watched as Rhys processed everything and worked it out in his head. When Rhys finally lifted his eyes to meet Jack’s, it caused the older man to flinch and nearly drop his phone. Those usually beautiful and bright heterochromatic eyes of Rhys’ were flooded with tears, the corners on both ends already so puffy and red. It was a look Jack had never intended to put on Rhys’ face, but there it was. He had opened his mouth to speak again, taking in a small breath but no words followed. He wasn’t really sure what to say anymore.

“You’re right,” Rhys sniffled softly and nodded, his lips pressing into a hard line as he tried to calm himself down. “It was my mistake, Jack. It won’t happen again.”

The way Rhys had said it made Jack wince and he drew his brows together as he stared at his phone screen. The kid had stopped crying, his eyes a little glazed over now; hazy. Most of all though, the hurt was as clear as day and it was tearing Jack up inside. What the fuck was up with that? He was Handsome Jack after all, what did this PA expect? If Jack was being honest with himself though, he really did like Rhys and he was enjoying their time together. He had kept seeing randos out of what felt like habit, not want. It felt different with Rhys though. Jack looked forward to seeing him, to being intimate together, to just lay around on Rhys’ couch watching old black and white films and eating pizza.

It was dawning on Jack as they sat there, connected only by screens that he had maybe made a mistake. The more Rhys stared at him, the more Jack felt further and further away from him, like the distance between them was ever growing.

“Rhys, I-”

“It’s over, Jack. I don’t think we should see one another anymore. Sorry for getting confused on where we stood, but I won’t do this- I can’t do this.” Rhys dropped his head as his words just sort of fell off. It was obvious there was more he wanted to say but he couldn’t seem to get it all out. Instead he just smiled weakly at a stunned looking Jack and shrugged.

“Bye, Jack.”

There wasn’t even a chance for Jack to get a word in before the call ended and Jack’s screen went dark. The older man let the phone fall onto his lap and he sat back in his chair, his mouth hanging open slightly. Had he just been broken up with by his goddamn PA? He sat there for several minutes, fuming as Rhys’ words kept playing over and over in his head.

“It’s over…”

Handsome Jack wasn’t the break up-ee, he was the break up-er. This was ludacris, who did this kid think he was talking to and why did it bother Jack so much? He snatched up his phone and tried ringing Rhys’ phone, but there was no answer. He tried a few more times, determined to finish their conversation on his terms, but after the third time of calling, Rhys’ phone went straight to voicemail.

“Son of a bitch…” Jack sighed deeply and chucked his phone across the living room onto a nearby couch. Fine, Rhys could dodge him for now, but come Monday morning, he was going to finish their talk. Rhys couldn’t avoid him forever.

“What?! What the hell do you mean a transfer?”

It was bright and early on Monday morning at Hyperion and Handsome Jack was early for once. He had come in only to be handed paperwork for approval from his other PA, Meg. The young woman winced a little as he barked at her and she calmly tried explaining again.

“Mr. Rhys came in very early this morning and filled out these two forms, sir. One was a request for leave and the other for a transfer to a different department in the facility. Since you are the department head for this floor obviously, you have to approve it…”

Jack was listening as his eyes scanned over the form again and again. There it was, in Rhys’ hand writing, his request to be moved as far away from Jack’s office as possible. He had asked to be moved down to the coding department, which never really saw the light of day as far as the rest of the company was concerned. Basement nerds with bad social skills and in desperate need of a tan.

“How long did he request time off for?” Jack asked without looking up, his hand reaching out for the other piece of paper she had for him.

“One full week, sir. He would return to work at his new position next Monday, if approved.” Meg smiled a little as she placed the paper in his hand. This all seemed very sudden to her and she had her suspicions, but it wasn’t her place to ask and it certainly didn’t seem like Jack wanted to chat about it.

“How long would it take to process his transfer if I signed these today?” Jack was starting to piece together what Rhys had done but he wanted to hear it anyway.

“…It takes about a week, sir. Between paperwork and getting him setup with security clearance for that department.” Her face fell a little as Jack finally figured it out. So he was trying to avoid Jack. He wasn’t even going to give Jack the opportunity to corner him to talk. Jack felt that anger building up inside him again and he began to crumple the papers he had been holding. His hand twitched slightly as he felt the paper slice a thin, long cut along his index finger and he snapped out of his own head after a moment. Fine, if that was how Rhys wanted it, then so be it. Jack would give him what he wanted.

“Hand me a pen, would you, princess?” Jack smiled, reaching his hand out towards his PA and snapped twice. Meg did as she was asked and eagerly gave him her pen, her brows furrowing as she watched him. With just a few strokes of ink, it was done. Jack let out a small sigh before putting on his usual grin and winked up at his PA as he handed her back her pen.

“Thanks babe,” Jack winked, grinning a little as he put his finger against his lips, licking away the small amount of blood that had formed from his cut. “Could you get those sent off right away for me, please?” Jack gently tapped on the top of her desk a few times and smiled wide, earning him an equally wide smile from his lovely PA.

“Right away, sir. Consider it done.”

Jack nodded and turned to walk away, his smiling instantly dropping as he headed back towards his office. He didn’t want anyone to see the hurt on his face.

It was torturous for Jack, waiting to hear something, anything from Rhys. He had tried calling him throughout the week and got the same result each time. Nothing. He didn’t want to just show up at his house, either. Why would he anyway? Rhys had ended it with him and made that very clear. Still, even though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, it was driving Jack insane.

When Friday finally hit and still nothing from his former lover, Jack was angry. Who the fuck did Rhys think he was? No one walks away from Handsome Jack or says they’re done. That was Jack’s job and Rhys was lucky Jack had feeling for him or he’d be out an air lock by now.

Feelings…

“Oh for fucks sake, what is happening right now?” Jack exclaimed loudly as he sat at his desk, thinking over the whole situation, his digits plunging into his hair as he leaned forward onto his elbows. Jack had never caught feelings for any of his conquests in the past, but for some reason he couldn’t shake Rhys from his thoughts. Was it possible he actually cared about Rhys? Like proper, hold hands, go on dates, make love and not just mindlessly fuck, only be with him, care about him? And could that be why he was so bothered by Rhys ending things between them?

“Noooope, nope, nope. Fuck that.” Jack growled out through gritted teeth. He looked around his office, his chest heaving a little as he took short, shallow breaths. He needed something to distract himself, to take his mind off of Rhys, off of how guilty and hurt he felt about this whole stupid fucking situation. If Rhys wanted out of his life and was so willingly to just walk away, okay then. Jack wasn’t going to sit around all mopey and wait for him. His eyes trailed to his office’s front doors and he smirked as he remembered just who was sitting on the other side of them. The perfect distraction. He reached over to the little comms box that sat on his desk and pressed a button on it.

“Meg, pumpkin, could you come in here please? I need you.”

It did not take long for Jack’s intentions with Meg to become clear. The younger woman had grown used to the look Jack would give her during work hours when it meant he wanted her. In the past, she would happily oblige, but now she felt uneasy about it. Jack didn’t seem to notice this however as he threw her against his desk and quickly closed the space between them, his hands roaming all over her body. He was being hasty and rash, not flirting and being coy like he usually would. He truthfully just wanted to bury himself in someone right now and try to forget about Rhys, even if it was only a temporary fix. He was upset and angry and confused all at once and he didn’t like any of it.

“Aaah, s-sir?” Meg stammered out as Jack ran his hands up her thighs, pushing her skirt up and out of his way. She was bracing herself against the desk, really unable to be any other way as Jack’s weight laid against her body.

“What?” Jack asked drly, his hands now making quick work of the buttons on Meg’s blouse, his eyes just sorta staring past her, down at his desk.

“I’m not really sure this is such a good idea, sir…” Her voice was timid and a little nervous sounding, like she was trying to not offend him. Jack didn’t seem to mind though as he gave up on the remaining buttons and just yanked the fabric the rest of the way open. This pulled a cry from Meg and she shuddered as Jack lifted her legs so they were wrapped around his waist. He pulled her in closer, grinding his hips against hers and smiled.

“What’s a matter, princess? Don’t want me anymore?” A reoccurring theme this week, Jack thought to himself.

Meg swallowed dryly and worried over her lower lip as she felt her entire face flush. Her legs were trembling now as she stared up her boss, trying to hold onto what little strength she had to resist him.

“It’s not that, Jack, sir, it’s just I-” She was cut off as Jack lunged forward for her neck, his teeth sinking ever so slightly into the skin and nipping gently at it. Meg tilted her head back as a startled moan escaped her and she relaxed a bit into Jack’s hold. Jack chuckled against her skin before kissing at the little wound he had created.

“Atta girl, that sounds more like the tune I wanted to hear.”

Meg felt herself slipping farther and farther, her lust for him consuming her as he continued his welcomed assaulted on her. She had missed them being like, Jack using her whenever he needed to blow off some steam. He had stopped calling for her once he and Rhys had gotten more involved and-

Rhys!

Meg’s eyes shot up and she sat up quickly, shoving Jack away from her and scrambled to get up from the desk. Jack let out a confused cry as he was pushed and stood there with this hands held open, a frustrated look on his face.

“What the hell, sweetheart? We were just getting to the good part, what are you doing?” Jack tried reaching for her again, but she swiftly moved away, her fingers quickly trying to do her buttons back up. Once that was done, she pulled her skirt back down and attempted to smooth her hair back down.

“What are you doing, Jack?” Meg shook her head slowly, her brows pulling together as she gave Jack an accusing look.

“Well, I thought it was pretty obvious what I was doing, but I’d be happy to make it clearer for you,” Jack laughed awkwardly as he took a few steps closer to her. Meg moved back, a hand clutching her shirt as she began to shake her head more rapidly.

“No Jack, I mean what are you doing? Why are you trying to sleep with me? What about Rhys? Think of how upset he’d be if he found out.” The question made Handsome Jack flinch and he turned away from her briefly and shrugged.

“What about him? He’s ancient history, what do I care?”

Even though she couldn’t see his face, she knew the look on it, just by hearing his voice. Carefully, Meg approached her boss, her hand gently resting on his arm as she pulled him back towards her. Jack resisted at first but eventually turned to face her once again.

“Sir, I don’t know what happened and you don’t have to tell me, but I do know that you do care.” She knew she was touching on a sensitive nerve by the way Jack was clenching his jaw over and over again and glaring down at her, but she kept going anyway. “Look, you know in the past, I’ve always been down with this,” she looked between the two of them and smiled softly. “But sir, ever since Rhys started working for you, things have been different. I see the way you look at him. I know because when you saw him for the first time, you stopped looking at me.” A soft hand reached up and gently cupped at Jack’s face, causing the older man to lean into the touch.

“I don’t even think you realize how much you’ve changed since you started seeing him. I think…” She hesitated and swallowed softly, her thumb rubbing against Jack’s face, “I think you have actual, real feelings for Rhys. And I know he has real feelings for you.”

Jack perked up a bit, a single brow raising up as she said this.

“What makes you say that?”

“Are you kidding?” Meg laughed softly and let her hand fall back to her side, “He doesn’t shut up about you all day. It’s not just a fling with the CEO of Hyperion for him. His feelings are genuine.” She nodded and stepped back from Jack, sighing softly.

“Which is why I will no longer be offering my side services to you, sir. Now, what I need from you is to stop being a dumbass, realize that you actually like this guy and go fix whatever it is you did to make him leave, before it’s too late.”

Jack narrowed his eyes and shot her a look, his arms folding over his chest.

“What makes you think it was my fault?”

“Jack…” Meg said knowingly and rolled her eyes, her head nodding over towards the front office doors. “Just go. And please be honest with him, and yourself for once. You both at least deserve that much.”

He chewed over his PA’s words for a few moments before letting out a deep sigh and nodding. He walked up to her and hugged her quickly.

“I’m sorry about your shirt, go get a new one downstairs and just have them bill it to me.” Jack smiled down at her before planting a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Thank you, Meg,” and with that, he let his PA go and headed for the door.

“Oh and remind me to give you a raise, please.” Jack smirked and winked before slipping out of the door.

“Don’t worry, I will!” Meg called after him. She slumped down into his chair once he was gone and let out a heavy sigh, fanning her face with a paper folder as she tried to get herself calmed down. “Phew, I definitely do not get paid enough for this.”

“What the fuck am I doing?” Jack asked allowed to himself as he stood outside of Rhys’ apartment building. He hadn’t called ahead to let Rhys know he was coming by, not that the kid would have answered anyway. He had made it very clear he was done with Jack and didn’t want to see him. Jack was starting to feel…nervous? A feeling he wasn’t used to having. He paced back and forth for a few minutes, talking himself out of this embarrassing situation at least a dozen times. What if Rhys slammed the door in his face or laughed at him until he was blue in the face? Worst of all, what if Jack spilled his purse all over Rhys and Rhys still ended up rejecting him? He did deserve it, sure, but that didn’t mean Jack wanted it to happen. He took a deep breath and set his sights on Rhys’ apartment, his feet willing him forward even though his head was screaming to run. Handsome Jack did not do well with the whole emotions thing, but for Rhys, he was going to god damn try.

A slightly trembling hand reached up and tapped against Rhys’ front door. Jack waited anxiously, switching his weight from foot to foot and hands fidgeting at his sides until finally the door swung open. Jack let out a soft sigh of relief as he saw Rhys’ shocked face.

“Jack? What…what are you doing here?” Rhys demanded, closing the door just enough so only half of Rhys could be seen. Jack attempted to smile, but it came out so forced, he looked a bit crazy.

“Rhysie…kiddo, I-” Jack was struggling to get out what he wanted to say. Thank god for that fucking mask because Jack was totally flustered beneath it, his cheeks burning red and skin damp with sweat. Rhys rolled his eyes and sighed, moving out of the way of the door so he could fully shut it on Jack.

Oh no, Jack thought to himself and stepped forward, planting a large hand on the door and pushed it back open.

“Rhys, please, wait. Just talk to me, five minutes of your time. That’s all I’m asking and then you can tell me to fuck off if you want. Please, can I just come in?” Jack’s voice was frantic and Rhys could clearly see the desperation on the older man’s eyes. With a begrudging sigh, Rhys nodded and stepped aside so Jack could enter.

“You’ve got five minutes.”

Jack smiled and nodded, rushing inside before he could change his mind. Rhys led them over to his living room couch, a place they had been so many times before, but under happier circumstances. A lot more kissing and less clothing were usually involved. They were both silent for a little while until Jack finally sat up and carefully collected Rhys’ flesh hand into his own.

“Rhys, I’m here to say I’m sorry, which is like, not an easy thing for me, kiddo. This is practically a break through for me.” Jack laughed nervously, his brows lifting as he hesitantly smiled over at Rhys, hoping a little humor would break the tension. Rhys did not look amused one bit.

“Gee, how brave of you to power through this troubling time in your life, Jack.” Rhys’ voice was completely monotone and he had this utterly bored look on his face. He wasn’t really interested in hearing anything Jack had to say. He sighed and shifted in his seat, trying to pull his hand out of Jack’s. “Now, if you’re all finished up-”

“Rhys!” Jack finally snapped, his lips pressing into a hard line as he exhaled through his nostrils. “Listen to me, okay? I get that you’re fucking pissed at me and you have every right to be. I was an asshole who wasn’t thinking about anyone else but himself. I get it.” Jack sighed in frustration, his free hand smoothing back his hair briefly. Rhys watched him with curiosity, his hand relaxing back into Jack’s hand as he spoke. Okay, so may he could hear him out a little more. He liked what he say hearing so far.

“I…I don’t want this to be done,” Jack gestured to the space between the two of them with their joined hands and sighed softly. “I want to be with you, like really be with you. I actually like you, Rhysie.” It was clear, even with his mask on, that Jack was feeling uncomfortable, vulnerable, in that moment. He was never one to speak so openly about these types of things. It was new territory for him. Rhys stared at him for a while, his brows drawing together so the center of his forehead was a little crinkled.

“I know I hurt you, Rhys and I can never take that back, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I just want you,” Jack sounded more confident that time, his lips curling into a soft smile. He gently squeezed at Rhys’ hand and instinctively leaned in a bit closer to him, his body just happy to be near the other man. Rhys swallowed slowly, his eyes welling up the tiniest bit. Could this be for real? Could Handsome Jack really become a one person type of guy? Rhys thought about it for a little while, his face registering all types of different emotions as he did. Jack watched him nervously, biting at his lips as he tried to stay quiet and let Rhys think. Then, Rhys finally looked up at him and spoke.

“There’s gotta be some ground rules, Jack. I like you too, like a whole lot but I can’t share you with anyone else…If you’re mine, then you’re mine. If you start seeing anyone else, I swear to god-” Rhys was getting worked up, like he was releasing all the pain he had been holding on to the past week in one go. Jack closed the distance between him, pulling Rhys into his arms and held him tightly.

“Rhys, listen to what I’m saying,” Jack pulled back from the younger man and gently cupped his hands around Rhys’ face. “You’re overthinking– I’m yours. That’s all I want to be.” Jack flashed the most affectionate smile Rhys had ever seen. The way he was looking at Rhys, it made his whole face flush and he nodded slowly, his eyes fixated on Jack. Jack let out a soft chuckle and leaned back in, tenderly pressing his lips to Rhys’. Rhys’ eyes fluttered closed and he felt himself letting go. He believed Jack and he could tell he truly meant it when he said he was sorry. Plus, Rhys was just a fool for the man. Overcome with emotions, Rhys started to laugh and sob gently against their kiss. The sudden shift alarmed Jack and he pulled back to look at Rhys.

“Hey, hey, are you alright, pumpkin?” Jack asked softly, a hand reaching up to wipe away the tears that were streaming down Rhys’ cheeks. Rhys sniffled a little and smiled wide, letting out a joyous laugh as he practically pounced on to Jack. The younger man hugged Jack tightly and nodded, planting a few soft kisses all over Jack’s face.

“I’m great, now,” Rhys laughed and stared up at Jack for a few moments, his chin gently resting on Jack’s chest. “So are we really doing this then? Just you and me?”

Handsome Jack’s face turned soft and serious all at the same time, his eyes scanning over Rhys’ face as he slowly began to nod. He sat up, pulling Rhys along with him so he was still close to him and very gently ran his digits through Rhys’ thick, chestnut hair.

“Yeah baby, we’re doing this,” Jack whispered before pulling Rhys into another deep kiss. They both started laughing after a few moments, Rhys still crying happy tears off and on and Jack kissing away each one that broke free from his eyes.

“Just you and me.”

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Long-Distance Call- Part 1

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,191

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Dean was dying and he was going to be dead in weeks and there is nothing you could do to stop it. You were running out of time and you were panicking. You never wanted this to happen and if you hadn’t gotten yourself killed, Dean wouldn’t have to give up his life for you. You were on the verge of panicking and you wished you had your mom to tell you what to do.

You missed her smile, her face, her smell, her laugh and you missed the way she could make you forget about your problems. She was an amazing mom and you lost her to Meg who killed her to please her father. She died because of you.

You are the one with demon blood in you.

You are the one with this weird witchy magic.

You are the one who gets to live while the people you love die.

You didn’t want to be around Dean and Sam right now. You needed time to think and you couldn’t do that with such high levels of testosterone flying about. It was hard living with Sam and Dean sometimes. You caught yourself wishing that there was another girl with you but then you would have to share Sam and Dean’s attention. You craved for their attention. It’s what kept you going sometimes. You would catch yourself thinking of how much you lost and right before you would go off the deep end, Sam or Dean would pull you back from it. You wouldn’t always go to the bad place but sometimes you would.

Right now, you wanted some space to yourself and decided to walk up and down the sidewalk by the park while Sam and Dean were across the street. You could still see them and they could still see you. You looked over at them and both of them were on the phone. You knew who Sam was talking to but not Dean. Sam was talking to a professor who might know how to get Dean out of his deal. You would fight until the very last second. You would fight until Dean was dead. You needed to fight for him. It was your fault that he was going to Hell in the first place.

You sighed and walked down the sidewalk, lost in your own thoughts. You bit your lip almost to the point where you drew blood but a noise stopped you. You looked around and heard the soft coo of a bird. You looked for the bird but you weren’t going to find it looking up. You looked down to see a bird lying in the dirt. You frowned and walked to it and the closer you got, the more you realized the bird was in pain.

You got on your knees and gasped at the broken wing. The bird was cooing for help, asking for someone to fix him. He was clearly afraid and you pressed your fingers to his belly, feeling his tiny heart patter in fright.

“Aw, you poor thing…” you whispered, placing a hand over his broken wing. He flinched and began to coo louder as a warning for you to get away.

“I wish I could heal you.” You said to him even though he couldn’t understand you. As soon as the words left your mouth, a purple glow shines from the cracks of your fingers. Your eyes widened and you looked up but no one was paying attention to you. You looked down at the bird and took your hand away from his wing.

“No way…” you whispered as you watched the bird flap its wings, both of his good wings. The broken wing was now healed as if it were never broken. Did you just heal his wing? How was that possible?

“Y/N?” You heard your name being called and looked up to see Dean standing there with a confused look. “You okay?”

“Yeah…” you trailed off, turning to look at the bird who flapped his wings before taking off. You just healed a broken wing with your hands.

“Come on,” Dean said, taking your hand and helping you up.

“That was so weird…” you muttered.

“What was?”

“Um…” you couldn’t seem to formulate the words by Dean didn’t have time for this.

“We’re heading to Ohio.”

“What’s in Ohio?”

“A case. Your dad found something for us to hunt.” Dean turned around but you stayed where you were. You had no idea why you decided to say this but the words just came tumbling out.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” He stopped and turned to look at you, a confused look on his face.

“For what?”

“For killing you.” He sighed and walked over to you, grabbing your hands.

“You didn’t kill me.”

“It’s my fault I died. You sacrificed yourself for me. It’s my fault your life is signed away.”

“It was my decision. It wasn’t your fault and I don’t need you thinking like this.” Dean started to pull you with him so he could get on the road.

“Yes, it is! My dumbass got killed and now you’re paying the price. How is that fair? If anything, I should go to Hell. It’s my soul that needs to be taken…” you trailed off and Dean stopped and turned to look at you.

“Stop that. What’s done is done. You can’t change it and if I so much find out you sold your soul to save me, so help me God, I am going to kill you.” Dean turned back around and brought you to the car. You sighed and knew the conversation was over as of right now. As Sam and Dean got in the car, you turned your head back to the park, thinking of the bird again.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Dean urged. You snapped out of it and got in the car. As soon as the door closed, Dean took off.

“So, what’s this case my dad found?” You asked the brothers.

“Some banker guy blew his head off in Ohio and your dad thinks there's a spirit involved,” Dean answered.

“Oh, okay. Sam, did the professor say anything?”

“No, he didn’t know anything.” Sam sighed.

“And That is why we’re looking into this very real case instead of the very fake lead,” Dean commented.

“It’s not wrong to have hope, Dean.” You sighed.

“No, it’s not. But there is no way out of this. Okay? I’m tired of having this conversation.” You sighed and clenched your jaw, tired of Dean passing this off as if this didn’t terrify him. A few moments of silence passed before you broke it.

“So, a spirit?”

“Yeah, the banker was talking about some sort of electrical problems at his pad for like a week. The phone was going haywire, and the computer was flipping on and off.” Dean explained.

“Okay,” You said and looked between Sam and Dean. You looked back at Sam and he peeked at you before quickly looking away. “Sam, you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” He said curtly.

“You know you’re terrible at lying. What’s going on?” You asked and looked at Dean who tensed a bit.

“Well…” Sam started but Dean cut him off.

“You promised, Sam.” Dean glared at his brother.

“What did he promise you? Are you hiding something from me?” You asked, hating that they would keep things from you.

“Nothing. Just forget it.” Dean replied.

“No, Dean. What did he promise you?”

“You tell her, Dean. She’s going to find out sooner or later.” Sam said and Dean clenched his jaw in frustration.

“Tell me what?!” You demanded.

“I need you to stop trying to find a way to save me.” Dean looked at you through the rearview mirror.

“What? No. There has to be something out there that will save you. I mean, I don’t trust her but Ruby said she’ll help save you. I mean I know it’s wrong to trust a demon but it’s all we got right now.”

“Y/N, there is no way to save me. Ruby lied.”

“What? How do you know that?” You asked.

“Because she told me. Flat out. No one can save me. No one.” Every word that came out of his mouth, broke your heart.

“When did you find this out?” You glared at him. However, he didn’t answer. You knew that by the silence, he’s known for a while. “And you just somehow neglected to tell me about this??”

“Well, I really don't care what that bitch thinks and neither should you, so…”

“She’s a demon, Dean. She knows about this more than anyone else! I mean, I don’t trust her but I would take her word for this kind of thing.” You got tears.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but now maybe you’ll just stop looking.” Dean sighed.

“I’ll stop looking when I see your dead body in front of me.” You snapped, crossing your arms and looked out the window. Sam and Dean both sighed but no one else said a thing.

As Dean turned into the driveway of a man named Ben Waters, you thought about his case. Apparently, he died in his study with the phone ripped out of the wall. It was weird enough for your dad to deem it a case is that is why you were here.

You got out of the car and walked to her front door, knocking on it. An older woman answered the door. You introduced yourselves as FBI agents and she graciously let you inside. She guided you through to the study and you bit your lip when you saw stains of blood on the wall.

“I found him there.” Mrs. Waters said, pointing to the study.

“Why don't you tell us everything you saw, Mrs. Waters,” Dean asked while you and Sam walked into the room to check it out.

“You mean besides my dead husband?” She glared.

“Just everything else you saw. Please.” Sam asked as he walked back to her and Dean.

“Blood. Everywhere. The phone was ripped from the wall, his favorite scotch on the desk, what else could you possibly want to know?”

“Why was the phone ripped from the wall?” You asked, looking at the holes on the wall where the phone used to be.

“I don't know,” She stuttered. “I already went over this with the other detectives.”

“We'll be out of your hair in no time, ma'am.” Dean smiled at her.

“Ma'am, what time did your husband die?” Sam asked and you looked over at him to see him pressing some buttons on the phone that was ripped from the wall.

“Sometime after 11.” She said with a sigh. Sam waited until you and Dean were looking at him and he subtly tapped the phone’s screen. Something was going on with the phone.

“What about strange phone calls? Receive any of those lately, weird interference, static, anything like that?” Dean asked the woman and she immediately went into defensive mode.

“No,” She crossed her arms had Dean raised one eyebrow to let her know he knew it was bullshit. “No!”

“Look, Mrs. Waters, if you know something, you need to tell us. I don’t care how crazy it might seem. It could help, okay?” You said to her gently, hoping she would just tell you.

“A couple of weeks ago, uh... there was this…” She tried to get out but she couldn’t seem to find the words.

“This what?” You asked and she sighed once more.

“I woke up one morning, and I heard Ben in his study. I thought he was talking to a woman.”

“What made you think that?” Sam asked.

“Because he kept calling her Linda. The thing is, I picked up the other line and nobody was there, Ben was talking to nobody.”

“There was nothing?”

“Just static.”

“Did you ever speak to Ben about this phone call?” You wondered.

“No. I should have but... no.”

“Did he ever say who Linda was?” Sam asked.

“What difference does it make? There was nobody on the other end!” Mrs. Waters said, getting visibly upset. You nodded and looked at the brothers. It was time to go because if she was getting this defensive and upset, then you wouldn’t be getting anything more out of her.

“Well, thank you for your time but we should be leaving. Please, if you remember something else, no matter how crazy it may seem, give us a call, okay?” You said, handing her a business card with your name and number on it. You and Sam made these for the victims and witnesses in case they heard of anything else. She nodded and took the card. You and the Winchesters left her house.

“Okay, that was a bust.” You sighed as you walked to the Impala.

“Maybe not. Look, when I was checking the phone out, there was a weird number on it, nothing like I’ve never seen before. I’m going to do some research on it and maybe you two can figure out who this Linda woman is?” Sam asked and you nodded, looking at Dean who agreed.

Series Rewrite Junkies:

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[queenevaine]

Also, I clearly can’t be fucking stopped.  

I wanted to thank @dbdheadcanon for the loving comments and artwork based on my fics, so I decided to do a bit of investigating and do something hella cute.  So, some Jake/Claudette.  (What’s the ship name for it anyway?)  And don’t worry, more David and Quentin stuff is coming soon.

Jake was never the type of person to enjoy the company of other people.  His father urged to go follow in his brother’s footsteps, to become a well known, and rather rich individual.  He had known from the start he didn’t want anything like that.  So, his life became living in the woods, surviving on his own, and every once in awhile getting a call from his mother.  He didn’t talk to his brother or father anymore.  When he came into the Entity’s realm, not much changed.  Besides, the fact, he now had to deal with people on a daily basis, for survival in constant trials.  The others knew little of him, and he tended to like keeping it that way.  

The others talked so much.  Dwight tended to ramble with nervous energy, and Meg just talked.  Claudette too, but she talked about her knowledge of botany.  Good lord, she knew so much about plants.  Even if he didn’t respond, he liked hearing her talk.  He didn’t get that kind of education of the plant life, and usually, he learned something new about the plants that surrounded his forest home.  He just wasn’t a talker, really.  But then again, he noticed plenty of times where Claudette opted to stay quiet, or go investigate plant life around them.  

His time in the trials was spent sabotaging hooks, and helping his fellow survivors.  Usually, sabotaging the hooks meant a very angry killer, and he hardly ever escaped a trial without new injuries.  That was fine, he was used to pain.  And Claudette always patched him up.  He made a quiet vow to himself to make sure to keep the Killers off her.  He really enjoyed her company.  He didn’t want to lose that.  He often shot vitriolic glares to people who left her to die.  

He didn’t have time to think as he was sent to another trial.  Taking a deep breath, he let the fog close in, then fade away to reveal the Blood Lodge.  He didn’t hesitate in getting to work on the nearest hook.  He liked making the area safer before working on generators.  The Lodge was too quiet.  The hook fell harmlessly to the ground, then he started working on the generator.  His heartbeat was faint, but the Killer was somewhere in the vicinity.  

He heard a scream.  Claudette. He immediately got off the generator and headed towards where he heard it.  He heard another scream, but he didn’t sense her aura.  Doctor, then.  He hated the Doctor.  A Killer capable of making him lose his composure, because his mind was breaking down.  He snapped a twig off a tree, hoping to get the Doctor’s attention.  The Doctor didn’t even flinch.  Fucker.  He ran after them, determined to get the lunatic off Claudette.  She screamed again, then in pain as the spiked mace collided with her side.  

“Hey!  Leave her alone!”  

He wanted to get the Doctor’s attention, and that’s exactly what he got.  The Doctor spun around, holding his mace down at his side and sending a surge of electricity towards Jake.  Being electrocuted in a trial was a terrible sensation, one that caused his muscles to tense and his mind to unhinge, just a little bit more.  He didn’t mind too much, if it was for a good cause.  Images of the Doctor’s face spotted his vision, and he let out another scream with another convulsion of muscles.  Now I just need to lose him.  

He ran to the nearest mess of walls and pallets, hoping to delay the Killer enough to make him go away and check on the generators.  Another shock, and he ran for his life as best as he could.  He leaped through a window, keeping his attention on the Doctor.  His appearance was terrifying and unsettling, but he could keep himself calm.  Mostly.  The Doctor this time was determined, tearing the pallets apart when Jake used them.  The sick laughter every time he was hit with one was also unsettling.

He stayed near the window, ready to jump over when a shock ran through his body, and then the mace came slamming into his stomach.  He ran around it, heart racing.  Not good.  He lifted the scarf around his neck and bit down, stifling his whimpers of pain.  He felt another surge of electricity, and screamed through the scarf.  He ran up to the pallet, arms not responding well enough to pull it down.  The mace tore into his back with enough force to slam him to the ground.  He winced, holding onto the scarf with his teeth.  He heard footsteps, lighter ones, run up.  

“Over here!”  

Meg.  She clicked on a flashlight and shined it into the Doctor’s eyes, who was none too pleased and started chasing her off.  He struggled to catch his breath, arms shaking as he tried to stand up.  

“Don’t push yourself, I’ll help you.”  

Claudette’s voice was a relief.  She gently treated his back, then his side as their heartbeats slowed.  Jake nodded in thanks, taking the scarf out of his mouth.  

“I should be thanking you.  You really helped me out back there.”  

He shook his head.

“Don’t mention it.  Let’s get a generator running.”  

They already had one down, thanks to the teamwork of Meg and Nea.  He lead Claudette over to the generator he sabotaged the hook near, the static fading from his mind.  He was more composed now, at least.  Meg and Nea were a great team, always able to juggle a Killer’s attention and keep each other safe.  The best Jake and Claudette could do was to work on generators.  

It didn’t take long for them to get one done.  With three more to go, Jake lead the way, making sure to take care of hooks on the way.  With Nea and Meg sufficiently pissing the Doctor off, Claudette and Jake started working on another generator.  Jake’s attention darted up as his heartbeat starting growing faster.  Claudette pulled her hands away from the generator, flinching at the explosion and sparks.  Claudette’s voice was quiet and panicked.  

“Sorry!  I didn’t-”

They had to be quiet.  He clamped his hand over Claudette’s mouth.  He then made a ‘shush’ motion, and pointed where they came from.  She understood the message and nodded, following close behind Jake.  He quietly crawled through a window, looking around for the Doctor.  His heart was still racing, so where was he?  Claudette’s scream made him spin around.  

She was holding onto the wall for dear life, with the Doctor holding onto her leg.  There was a sudden drop in Jake’s stomach out of horror.  He frantically searched for the nearest blunt object, deciding simply to tear a brick out of the wall and throw it.  It tore at his fingers to get the brick, but a quick toss of it at the Doctor’s head was enough to get him to let go.  He urged Claudette in front of him, guiding where she ran with a hand at her back.  

His hand was definitely torn up from digging into brick.  He could worry about that when they were safe.  Meg and Nea had managed another generator, and he assumed the Doctor would go after them.  Still, he couldn’t risk it.  He lead Claudette back around, behind a rock at the edges of the Lodge’s grounds.  He listened quietly, his heartbeat faint, but slowly growing louder.  That answered the question of who the Doctor was going after.  He kept a lookout, darting back behind the rock when he saw the Doctor looking around, eventually coming closer and closer.  

Claudette kept perfectly silent.  Jake would’ve been impressed, if he wasn’t currently trying to hide from a lunatic.  They were going to be found eventually.  He turned to Claudette, and he couldn’t help but admire the dedicated attempt not to look terrified.  He took his jacket off, and wrapped it around her.  He motioned her to stay low, then stood himself and walked to the other side of the rock to get a look at where the Doctor was.  There was no way the Doctor didn’t see him now, but still Jake went behind the rock.  

He screamed as the shock went through him.  He took off from behind the rock, back to the walls and windows he could use to evade a mace strike.  The Doctor never even checked behind the rock, probably pissed at Jake for smacking him in the face.  He was perfectly fine with that.  He vaulted over the window, the Doctor right on his heels.  This will get tricky.  He bolted forward, aiming to make the Doctor run around walls so much he would lose too much time to stop generators from going online.  

Meanwhile, Claudette had slinked off towards an unfinished generator.  Meg and Nea got another generator up in the distance.  They made their way over to where Claudette was working.  

“Where's Jake?”  

Meg sounded concerned.  She still knelt down to work on the generator.  Claudette looked over her shoulder.  

“I don't know.  The Doctor was chasing him.”  

Nea grabbed a flashlight from the nearby chest, walking over to the generator and grinning.

“Aww, he gave you his jacket, too.  That's sweet.”  

Claudette shook her head.  

“No, it was.. It blends in.”  

Nea just laughed, moving to help with the generator.

“Why didn't he keep it then, to help him hide from the Doc?”  

Claudette opened her mouth, then shut it again.  She couldn't argue with that statement, but she was still very grateful to Jake for handing it to her.  Or, more accurately, wrapping it around her.  It was still rather oversized, but comforting.  Meg stood up from the generator with a light smack of her fist to her chest.  

“Don't worry Claudette, I'll make sure your boyfriend is okay.”  

“Meg, he's not my boyfriend.”  

“Yet.”  Nea added.  Claudette just sighed, continuing repairs as Meg ran off.  She could feel her cheeks getting hot.  The idea made her flustered.  

“Aww, look at you.  You really like him, don't you?”  

Claudette didn't look over so she could focus on the generator.  She sighed.  

“..Yeah, I do.  He's always looking out for me.”  

“I think the feeling’s mutual.  After all, he is currently running from a Killer without his normal jacket to make sure you didn't get spotted.”  

Claudette just continued working.  He struck her as an animal-person rather than a people-person, she she never really thought much on it.  Or tried to, at least.  She really enjoyed when he spoke, even if it was just for a few moments.  She wasn’t too different, used to talking over forums and providing botany information for curious people online.  The lights turned on, and Claudette stood.  Nea shrugged, turning to find another generator.  

“Eh, all up to you.  But it is pretty cute.”  

Claudette followed behind Nea, finding the half-done generator she and Jake had been working on.   It wouldn’t be long for them to get it done.  Jake’s scream caught their attention.  Through their auras, they could sense he was dangling from a hook.  Claudette immediately stood to start walking over.  

“Wait, I’ll get it.”  

Claudette frowned, but Nea had already sprinted away.  She sighed, kneeling to finish the generator.  I’ll finish this quickly, and then open a door, and we can all get out fine.  She had to focus on this.  She heard Meg scream, but didn’t sense her getting injured.  The madness would prove to be ruinous if she didn’t work faster.  Almost done, come on!  The light turned on, and the sirens blared from either door.  She ran to the one furthest from the Doctor, looking to the auras of Meg and Jake.  The Doctor wasn’t letting either Meg or Nea close.  She took a deep breath, holding down the bar to unlock the door.  

Her heartbeat started racing faster.  He’s coming over here!  She silently urged the door to open faster.  With grinding gears, the door blared another siren and opened, just as Meg came vaulting over a window.  

“Go!  We gotta go!”  

“Wait!  We can’t leave them!”  

Meg grabbed Claudette’s arm, pulling her to the exit with the Doctor on their tail.  The Doctor suddenly stopped, then turned around as Meg and Claudette ran into the fog.  Claudette pulled her arm from Meg, trying to turn around.  

“Wait, Claudette!”  

She kept running, trying desperately to get back to the Lodge.  The fog seemed to only get thicker, and she found herself at the campfire.  Damn it, Meg!  She let out a sigh, spinning around when she heard Meg’s footsteps.  

“Why did you do that?!  We should’ve stayed to help them!”  

Meg seemed barely out of breath.  She was a runner, but she still seemed to have more energy than any normal person.  

“We would’ve been caught!  It helps them more if we aren’t on hooks!”  

Claudette let out a loud ‘UGH’ before moving to sit by the campfire.  Meg walked over slowly, stretching her legs.  

“Look, I’m sorry.  That wasn’t fair of me to decide for you.”  

Claudette’s anger subsided.  It really wasn’t directed at Meg, moreso at not being there to help the person who ultimately saved her from a gruesome hook.  She stayed quiet, staring at the fire.  Meg sat down on the log.  

“Nea’s still there, and she’s every bit as determined as I am.  They’ll be fine!”  

Claudette mumbled a thanks.  She held the jacket close to her, eyes up at the treeline waiting for Nea and Jake to come back.  It felt like an eternity before the treeline rustled, and the two stumbled out towards the fire.  

“Jake!  You’re okay!”  

Claudette stood and rushed over, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.  His hair was disheveled and had leaves and twigs sticking out from it, and several bruises and injuries from the trial.  The two fell backwards as Jake lost his balance, letting out a groan when he hit the ground.  Claudette scrambled off of him.

“Sorry!  I didn’t hurt you, did I?  Just, stay there!”  She ran over to get the medkit she kept by the campfire.  Jake stayed put, Nea walking over to sit next to Meg at the campfire.  The two talked too softly for Jake or Claudette to hear them.  Claudette sat next to Jake, taking out bandages and antiseptic.  

“This will probably sting.”  

Jake just nodded, biting onto the scarf around his neck.  Claudette helped him sit up, cleaning the injuries and then bandaging them.  She noticed the small winces Jake made each time, but he did a very good job at hiding them.  She was just too observant of others pain to miss it.  When Claudette finished, Jake took the scarf out of his mouth.  

“You okay?”  

Claudette was surprised by the question.  

“What?  Of course!  You could’ve died!”  

Jake shook his head.  “Nea had my back.  I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you.”  

Claudette felt her cheeks heat up again.  I guess Nea was right.  She helped him over to the campfire, hiding her blush in the jacket.  Jake let out a laugh.  

“Do you like my jacket that much?”  

Right, he’s gonna want it back.  When she sat down, it was clearly obvious how much she swam in it.  She took it off, handing it to him.  

“It’s nice and warm.  Thanks for lending it to me.”  

He took the jacket after a second.  Why did he hesitate?

“No need to thank me.”  

He put it on and sat back against the log, letting out a deep breath.  Claudette smiled as he closed his eyes, quietly moving to stand up.  

“Where are you going?”  

Jake didn’t need to open his eyes to know Claudette was going to walk away.  She paused, holding her arms.  

“To let you rest, get some peace and quiet.”  

“What if I wanted you to stay?”  

Claudette slowly walked back and sat down next to Jake.  Nea was definitely right.  Jake wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.  He wrapped the jacket around her and let her rest her head on his shoulder.  She laughed quietly, looking up to Jake’s hair.  

“Your hair is an absolute mess.”  

“I uh, ran through some bushes.”  

She ran her fingers through his hair, picking out twigs and leaves.  Once she was satisfied with how many she got out, she let herself relax, and the two fell asleep.  Meg and Nea shot each other very satisfied looks, then sat back to relax themselves.  

[avyssoseleison]

Part 2 of Pack Alpha!Cas x Young Alpha!Dean (3.3k words)

To have Dean sitting at his breakfast table, dressed in warm, woolen clothing a couple of sizes too wide but not too long for him, still sleep-ruffled and bleary-eyed, hastily eating all the food laid out before him, satisfies a deep, feral urge inside of Castiel. Considering Dean’s reluctance to so much as set foot into Castiel's home last night – because, apparently, Dean had expected to stay at some hut, motel or maybe even prison, instead of the pack Alpha's house – or accept food, a bath and a bed from him, the ease with which he now already inhabits a space in the house is surprising. Like this, Dean looks soft, for lack of a better word, and comfortable, in Castiel's clothing and at his table, and it only seems right to have him here and take care of him. Regardless of him being Alpha as well.

Because not only is he still young and non-threatening, he is also very obviously in need of help. Even in very strict and traditional packs, it is uncommon to simply exile any adolescent who presents as an Alpha and might challenge the pack Alpha one day, so for Dean to be out on his own, underfed and freezing, is puzzling. Unless he did something truly abhorrent to warrant expulsion, he should still be under the protection of his pack and parents. And Dean, with the scars now hidden under the turtleneck Castiel lent him and his pink tongue flicking out to catch every drop and crumble on his lips, feels more like the type to have had abhorrent things done to him.

Then again, looks can be deceiving – and particularly young Alphas tend to lack the inhibition or sense to rein themselves in. Just because he is beautiful and pitiful now does not mean that he did nothing bad before or does not deserve his current, worn-down state. After all, he did ask to be killed over nothing last night. To atone, perhaps?

“So,” Castiel begins, since he has to begin somehow, “how do you like the eggs?”

Apparently confused at being spoken to, Dean glances up at him and then back down to his scrambled eggs. Castiel made them for him – as well as some toast, hash browns, bacon, sausages, and a couple of pancakes – and added in a lot of herbs and butter, as Dean looked like he needed it, but they turned out runny and looking a bit funny. Dean had looked a bit overwhelmed by all the food set down before him, but then began wolfing down everything, as if he hadn't had a proper meal in weeks. Going by the slimness of his neck, he probably hadn't. If Castiel hadn't given him something light to eat and a few snacks the night before, he would probably be scared that Dean might get sick from this much food for breakfast. Really, he still is afraid of that. But when he started making breakfast, he did not think of that – in fact, he did not think much, except that he wanted to feed the young boy until he looked healthy again.

“They are pretty good,” Dean replies, stirring the eggs with his fork. “Though I'm not sure I can finish them.”

“It's fine if you don't. You don't have to eat everything I make, whether you simply don't like it or might be sick from it.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks,” Dean says and only keeps stirring his eggs now instead of taking another bite, which Castiel takes as a sign that he only kept eating because he thought he had to.

Slightly disgruntled, Castiel takes a sip of his coffee. In the light of the morning and without the exhaustion of the cold clinging to him, the boy already looks somewhat healthier than the night before, and even more stunning. Castiel has no doubt that, were Dean an Omega, he would have been mated and impregnated long ago, if he comes from a pack that supports early matings. Or at least been mated for some time now or on headed that way. Because Castiel knows that even in his own, rather civilized pack, every unmated Alpha and Beta would have been vying for Dean's attention, showered him in gifts and sweet promises, trailed him like a bunch of lost puppies until he finally decided on one of them. Whoever Dean chose would have been considered to be the luckiest member of the pack, the most enviable one. And Castiel is neither too proud nor proud enough to admit that he, too, would have been one of Dean's hopeless little suitors – that he would have courted him shamelessly, probably gotten into fights with all the other admirers and tried to pathetically use his position as the pack Alpha to draw Dean's attention on him, even if just for a bit.

He would have been the king of the fools.

Castiel heaves out a sigh. What good does it do to draw up these kinds of fantasy scenarios and then berate himself for them? Maybe Meg is right: as the pack Alpha and still unmated at his age, he should have made more of an effort to find a viable mate. Even if no one in his pack or outside of it appealed to him yet – at least not to a degree at which he would consider anything long-term with them –, he should have set a good example and settled with someone by now. Certainly, he is not at an age that waiting a few more years or maybe even a decade would make him so old that he could not take proper care of a mate or any children, but the older he gets, the more time seems to just fly by. Whereas a year seemed like an eternity when he was younger, it now feels more like one more turn of the moon, the blink of an eye. If he is not careful, it might be too late for him to mate before he knows it.

Regardless, this is an issue to be dealt with at another time. Right now, all his attention should be on the young Alpha in front of him, who is by now doing nothing but sitting idly in his chair and breathing in that heavy, sluggish way that probably means he ate too much and is working on keeping the food down.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asks.

“Hm-mh,” Dean reassures. He strokes a hand over his belly, covered by the thick clothing Castiel has given him, and lets out a sound that is just so verging on a moan, both pleasured and pained.

Castiel feels his fingers tightening around the handle of his cup.

“Haven't eaten so much at once lately,” Dean all but slurs, “so it's a bit much right now. But it was good.”

“Yes?” Castiel asks, eyes perked.

“Yeah.” Dean confirms. This pleases Castiel immensely.

Castiel nods and makes a thoughtful noise. “I did notice that you look a bit... slim for your height. And the overall frame of your body. Which I assume is not just the result of any recent growth spurt?”

Dean tenses up at that, the previous laziness already leaving his body. Castiel cannot help but regret diving into the topic right away, but he has to. “Yeah, it's not like I've had any growth spurts recently.”

Which could either mean Dean is a bit older than Castiel assumed, or that he hasn't had proper nutrition for quite a while now. Maybe it's both.

“Is that why you were in my woods? To hunt?”

For a moment, Dean looks at him in a strange, undefinable way, then shrugs his shoulders. “If some rabbit was randomly crossing my path, maybe. I'm not a very good hunter, though.” He shuffles in his seat. “I was looking for some berries or herbs to eat. I thought there might be some since I've seen some thrushes in the tree tops, so I followed them. Until you pounced on me.”

The memory of which is slightly embarrassing, since Castiel has had a rather non-threatening Dean below him, begging to be killed, and now has him sit in front of him with a full belly, and satisfaction in his features.

“You did not enter the pack's territory on purpose, then,” Castiel resumes from Dean's story.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, “I didn't know where I was, let alone whose pack the woods belonged to. All I knew was that there were thrushes, so there must be berries around.”

Castiel does not comment on the fact that for Dean to know so much about berries that he would be able to track them down by watching birds is a bit unusual for an Alpha. As are his apparently insufficient hunting skills. Instead, he nods as if he could ever make the same kind of connection between birds and berries, and puts his cup down on the table.

“How long have you been wandering then, when you did not even know whose pack grounds you were entreating upon? Our territory is rather vast, and any proximate pack would know where the borders lay.”

“Been walking for a while,” Dean says noncommittally, shrugging and picking at his fingernails. Castiel remembers how dirty they were just the night before; how dirty all of him was, at least whatever glimpses he caught of Dean’s skin when he began to undress as Castiel was still busy bringing him clothing, fresh towels and soap into the bathroom. His hands are clean now, but Castiel should probably still take a brush and clippers to his fingernails. Maybe even to his toenails? He could pull off Dean’s socks, roll up the hems of his pants, let his feet soak in warm soapy water and then go about taking care of his probably sore and abused feet as slowly and gently as he would take care of his fingers.

Exasperated with himself, Castiel pinches his nose. Forget wrong or inappropriate, these kinds of thoughts are just downright strange. Not just because of the sense of self-abasement and worship that is inherent in feet-washing, let alone since both of them are Alphas, but because the very idea of doing so shouldn’t warm him to his core.

So, he looks away from Dean’s hands and, just to be on the safe side, from his face and any part of his body as well, and stares out the window instead. Outside, the sky is gray and thick snowflakes are falling. Certainly no good day for anyone to be wandering through the woods.

“What does ‘a while’ mean? A couple of days? Weeks?” Castiel probes. “For you to be in such a poor shape, it must have been quite some time.”

“...since spring?” Dean estimates vaguely.

Castiel’s gaze immediately snaps back to Dean. “Spring? Dean, we are in the middle of winter!” He cannot help the rush of anger and terror -- not directed at Dean, but his circumstances. No wonder he looked and still looks like he was put through the meatgrinder. No wonder he begged for Castiel to kill him!

Castiel's scent must stink of his rush of emotions, but Dean’s doesn’t even waver.

Because Dean just shrugs once more and nods, as if more than half a year spent as a vagrant did not matter all that much. “I guess.”

“How?” Castiel asks, then corrects himself. “Why?”

Slowly, Dean blows out a breath and lifts his eyes just enough to catch Castiel’s. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

But Castiel pushes on. “Who would allow something like this to happen? It would have been your pack Alpha’s duty to find you and return you to pack grounds. Someone as young as yourself should never be left to his own devices, particularly not for such a long amount of time.”

Dean’s eyes skip away again. He does not reply, just tenses slightly. Castiel’s eyes narrow at that.

“Or is there a reason your pack Alpha did not look for you? Did you run away -- or were you exiled?”

For a moment, Dean clenches his eyes shut. “Neither. Both. I really don’t wanna talk about it, okay?”

And Castiel wants to leave him alone, he does, yet it is more than simple curiosity for the beautiful young man sitting in front of him that is driving him, but also his pack’s safety. If Dean was indeed exiled, then it wouldn’t have happened without good reason. At least, it shouldn’t have. Hard as it is to keep pushing Dean and to do so much as assume that he might have committed a crime grave enough to warrant exile, Castiel needs to know the truth for safety reasons.

“Was there any kind of trouble?” As soon as he asks, he thinks of the second confirmation that Dean has given him: that, in the same way that he was and was not exiled, he also did and did not run away. “Did anyone cause you any trouble?”

Dean lets out a short, humorless laugh. Castiel straightens up.

“Did anyone hurt you?” The anger returns tenfold, turns into rage; the very idea of anyone touching Dean in such a painful way that he would flee his pack forces Castiel’s words to come out in a growl. “Is that why---? Is that where the scars came from? Dean, what---”

“Alpha,” Dean cuts in, and his voice and the expression on his face seem both to be warring between fear and anger too, settling on indignation. All of him is tense, and he bites his lip as he corrects himself. “Castiel. Please. I mean it. I don’t-- I can’t talk about this.” He slumps slightly in his seat, and Castiel hates himself for being the cause of this, for interrupting the serene scene from before, for distressing the boy who was so full and relaxed mere moments ago.

“I apologize,” Castiel says upon a deep exhale. “I recognize that you do not wish to talk about this, so I will not force you to. I have no right to your past, but some to your presence, as you are now part of my pack, which is why I need to know if what happened could have an impact on either your or the pack’s safety.” He shakes his head, tries to gather his thoughts. “No, this is not fair of me. I have already accepted your submission and your vow that you will not be a threat to my pack, so whatever you might have done in the past should not matter. Yet, as you are pack now, if there is still a threat to you, you should tell me, so that I can take the proper precautions. I cannot protect you if I don’t know that I need to -- if I don’t know what from.”

Dean appears taken aback by that statement. As if, upon admitting that he might pose a threat to the pack in whatever capacity, Castiel would grab him and drag him back to the woods. Which is ridiculous, given that right now, with Dean looking so small and unsure, Castiel would love to do nothing more than embrace him, stroke his hair and assure him that no harm will ever come to him again.

“I guess I do owe you as much,” Dean concedes, and he straightens his shoulders almost imperceptibly. “The truth is,” he breathes in deeply, “I don’t know for sure. I don’t think anyone would come looking for me, ‘specially since no one did ever since I left, or at least they didn’t find me, so I doubt they’d bother now. They’ve probably forgotten about me by now.” He curls his hands, where they are resting on the table, into fists. “So, I can’t give you any guarantee on that front. Just that I promise that I don’t wanna cause any trouble while I’m here, and that back there, I didn’t… murder anyone or whatever you might be thinking.” He is silent for a few moments. “So, if you don’t want me around as a potential hazard, I get that, really, and I’ll be out of your hair as soon as you say the word.”

“No,” Castiel decides, “as I said, you are now pack and under my protection, so as long as you accept my position as the Alpha and don’t harm anyone here. Since you have already done the first and just promised the second, there is absolutely no reason to refute this.”

Dean still looks somewhat doubtful, and all he gives as a reply is an unconvinced, “Alright.”

Castiel gets up from his chair with a sigh, and as he crosses the small space between him and a still seated Dean, the younger Alpha’s doubtfulness turns into wariness.

“Dean,” Castiel says in what he hopes is a soothing tone. Dean remains still and tense when Castiel comes to a halt next to him, and he lets him do as he likes when Castiel reaches out his hand and settles it on the side of his cloth-covered neck. On the spot that anyone else would present if they wanted to submit to an Alpha, and not in such a painfully absolute way in which Dean did the night before, all his scars on display, or where a mating bite would go, if Dean were not an Alpha.

Dean’s breathing turns short and shallow, but his smell does not turn sour in fear. Rather, its sweetness intensifies, picks up a notch, just like the pulse now beating against the palm of Castiel’s hand, pinkening his cheeks. Despite Dean’s designation, he does seem to take to submission rather easily.

“You are safe and welcome here. Knowing that you might be hurt if you leave, to say nothing of the harsh environmental conditions that would await you, fortifies my conviction that it was the right choice to allow you to join the pack. I won’t revoke that.” Unable to help himself, he strokes Dean’s warm neck, just once, twice, making the boy’s eyes go round and then flutter shut for a second. The urge to do more than just caress that vulnerable part of him suddenly overwhelms Castiel, and with regret and a soft brush of his thumb against Dean’s bobbing Adam’s apple, he retracts his hands. “I want you to stay here, where you are safe and can flourish. You deserve more than a life on the run, and if I can provide you with an actual future, then I am delighted to do so.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, so quiet and intimate as if they were sharing a secret. His eyes remain barely more than half-open, apparently still weighed down by Castiels caress. “What’s the catch?”

Castiel chuckles and wishes there were a catch -- some ulterior motive that would help him justify this foolish decision beyond that his genuine wish to see Dean safe and happy.

“The catch,” he says playfully, “is that you will need to do the dishes after breakfast, and any other time I cook because I abhor doing it myself. You will also need to keep your room clean yourself and take care of your own laundry. And you will have to let me introduce you to the other members of the pack, so that they know that there is one more part of our family, and that you are as welcome as any of them.”

The corners of Dean’s mouth tick up in the tiniest of smiles, and Castiel is suddenly awash with an overwhelming sense of pride for being the cause of it.

“Deal.”

[winchesterprincessbride]

Not What He Expected-Part 3

This is an A/B/O AU

*This part fills the FLANNEL square on my @spnabobingo card*

So here it is, my FIRST A/B/O series featuring Alpha! Dean/ Omega! Reader (not Destiel). I am still a Samgirl to the very core of my being, but I thought it would be fun to try something different for a change.

You meet Dean Winchester in a bar when he attempts to come to your rescue after a drunk Alpha tries to take advantage of you.  He quickly realizes you’re not what he expected.  You’re a very independent Omega who is used to speaking her mind.  He’s all Alpha, but there is just something about you, an attraction that makes him want to know more…….

Part 1 (All parts are linked)

Master List

Text messages are in bold 

Characters: Alpha! Dean Winchester, Beta! Sam Winchester, Beta Benny Lafitte, Omega! Reader, Alpha! Castiel Novak, Alpha! Jimmy Novak, Beta! Ada Novak (OC) Beta! Darcy (OC) Omega! Meg, Omega! Amelia

I glared at the twins.  This protective Alpha shit was getting really old.  “Back off you two.”

Dean continued to chew as he looked from me to my brothers.  “Who is Bobby?” He finally asked.

Jimmy rolled his eyes at me.  I could tell he was thinking  Where did you find this genius?

Cas smirked at him.  “It’s Babi, not Bobby.  It’s short for Babicka.  It’s Czech for Grandmother.”

“Dean, these idiots are my brothers, Cas and Jimmy." I turned to them. "Way to make an entrance, assholes!” I snapped angrily. “Do I look like a robber to you?”

“No,” Jimmy said thoughtfully.  “You look like your on a date.  You only make your special pancakes for guys you're trying to impress, Y/N.”

“So is it working?” I asked, turning to Dean, and trying not to let the twins see me smile.

“Oh yeah.....Big time.” He replied with a sexy grin. I was in trouble with this one, I could tell already.  The twins didn’t look happy with his answer.  Jimmy’s fingers tightened reflexively around the bat as he glared at Dean.

“Well since you so rudely interrupted us, you two jerks get to clean up.  Dean can walk me back to get my car.” 

“But.....” Cas began.

“No buts, Cas. You owe me.” I snapped. “Come on, handsome,” I said to Dean, just to piss them off.

Jimmy narrowed his eyes at me.  “You are such a bitch, Y/N.”

I responded by sticking my tongue out at him childishly.  Dean and I headed out the back door as he waved a cheery goodbye to my fuming brothers.  We walked in silence for a block before he spoke.  “Are they always like that when you bring guys home?”

I shrugged.  “Jimmy didn’t actually use the bat on you, so you fared better than most.”

“Wow.” He said with a chuckle.  “How do you tell them apart?  They look exactly alike.”

“Jimmy’s temper is worse.  He needs to get laid in the worst way. He likes an Omega who waitresses for us, Amelia, but he’s too chickenshit to make a move.  Cas’ has been with his Omega, Meg, since we were all practically kids.” I explained.

Dean looked over at me, a ghost of a smile on his face.  “So your Grandmother owns the restaurant?”

I nodded.  “Yep.  Our parents were killed in a car accident when I was 9 and Cas and Jimmy were 12.  Babi and Dede took us in and we helped them in the restaurant.  Dede died when I was in culinary school.  We all help Babi run the place.”

“My parents are gone too. My brother Sammy and I used to help our Uncle Bobby run his garage.  Sammy is in law school now, but I’m still there, I’m the head mechanic.  I like working with my hands.”

My eyes immediately dropped to his muscled arms as we walked, and I thought about how badly I wanted those large hands to work me over.  Down girl!  “Here’s my car.” 

He looked at it with a practiced eye.  “You take good care of it, I see, “ he commented.

I shrugged, suddenly shy, my confidence from earlier disappearing.  Damn if Dean wasn’t the most gorgeous piece of Alpha male I had ever seen in my life! I inhaled deeply, and his scent washed over me: motor oil and flannel mixed with cedar.  “Cat got your tongue, pretty girl?” He questioned me, his voice a deep rumble.  “You smell so fucking good.  Like vanilla, and cookies.  Makes me want to find out if you taste as good as you smell.”

“So what are you waiting for?” I whispered, leaning against the passenger side door. He groaned and slid one long arm around my waist and pulled me to him, his flannel shirt tickling my arms.  I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, and then those sinful lips were coaxing my mouth open.  I slid my arms around his neck, needing him to be as close as possible. “ Dean.....Alpha.....”

I could feel the hard bulge of his dick against my belly and I could tell Dean was just as turned on as I was.  This was turning into a pretty heavy make-out session for a bar parking lot, but I was high on the taste of him, and I needed more.  I slid my hands up under his flannel, beneath the shirts he wore, to the bare skin of his stomach.  He sucked in a ragged breath.

“Get a fucking room you two!” Someone yelled, and just like that the spell was broken, and Dean reluctantly tore his mouth from mine, panting as though he had run a marathon.  He pressed his forehead to mine.  “You need to get in your car.”  He said firmly, but he didn’t remove his arms from my waist.

“Oh yeah? Why?” I asked, slightly dazed.

“Because If you don’t leave, I’m gonna take you right here, and don’t want our first time to be in a parking lot up against your car.”

I blinked up at him in shock.  “Who says there's gonna be a first time?”

“Very funny smart ass.  Now go.” 

I unlocked my door, and he kissed me one last time for good measure, so thoroughly it took my breath away, before closing my door.  I rolled down the window.  “I assume you’ll call me since you think we’re gonna have sex and all?”

Dean gave me a look that set my insides on fire.  “I don’t think, Y/N.  I know.”

I slept in the next day, happy I didn’t have to work so I didn’t have to face the scrutiny of my brothers or Babi.  Jimmy was a notorious gossip, and I’m sure he told Babi everything about the handsome Alpha I’d made pancakes for.

Everyone responded exactly as I thought they would.  Cas texted me first, all apologetic and eager to make sure I was okay.

Cas:  Hey Sis, just checking you got home okay.  So how did your date turn out?

Y/N:  Wonderful, despite your best efforts.

Cas: I am just looking out for my little sis.  Do you think you’ll see him again?

Y/N: Definitely.

 I heard from Babi next.  She got right to the point.  “Jimmy told me you were making your pancakes for some Alpha you met in a bar, is that true, Y/N?”

Here we go.  “Jimmy has a big mouth, “ I said with a sigh of annoyance. “They were just pancakes, Babi. We aren’t mated or anything.”

“If it gets serious I want to meet him.  I need to make sure he is good enough for my girl.”

I smiled at her protectiveness.  I would always be 9 years old in her eyes.  “Yes, Babi.”

Jimmy was the last one to check in.  I knew he would be.  “So what’s the deal with you and the studly Alpha?”  He asked without preamble.

“I’m not telling you anything.  Thanks a lot for telling Babi everything, by the way.  You're worse than a teenage girl, Jimmy!” I said in annoyance

“I’m just looking out for you.” He said in a sulky tone. 

“Well keep your trap shut or Amelia and I will be having a little chat.” I couldn’t resist pushing his buttons.

“Don’t you dare, Y/N!” He said in a panicked voice. “Fine, you win! I won’t say another word!”

“Hey, Jimmy?”

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Maybe the 4 of us could double date,” I said with a snort.  Jimmy had been in love with the pretty Omega since she started waitressing at Novak’s.  It was blatantly obvious because he turned into a tongue-tied fool whenever she was around.  Everyone could see it but her.

“I hate you so much right now.” Jimmy snapped before hanging up on me.

I realized later that Dean and I had never exchanged numbers.  He knew where I worked and he said he wanted to see me again, so I expected he would track me down, hopefully, sooner rather than later.

I spent the rest of the day doing laundry, running errands and cleaning, typical boring day off stuff.  I found my thoughts drifting to green eyes and lush lips often during the day, and I found myself hoping he contacted me soon.

The next day at work it was crazy, and I barely had a minute catch my breath, let alone think about Dean.  We were at the tail end of the lunch rush when Meg, our hostess, and Cas’ Omega, came flying into the kitchen excitedly and made a beeline for me.

“Y/N, there is a dreamy Alpha at the hostess station asking for you.  Says his name is Dean.  What should I tell him?”

“Can you tell him I’ll be right out, Meg?” I asked, heading over to the sink to wash my hands.

“Sure.” She replied. “Cas, Baby, you didn’t mention that he looked like THAT.” She said before walking out of the kitchen.  Cas turned red as a beet.

I gave myself a once-over in the mirror before taking a deep breath to stop my pounding heart.

“I’m taking my lunch,” I told Cas as I headed to the dining room.

Part 4

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