#Bobby's lips are full of white stuff

[kiwiplaetzchen]

[chronicowboy]

"Buck, come on," Eddie scoffs, making his way into the kitchen.

"She knew I died, Eddie," Buck shoots back, following after him like a little duckling.

"She probably recognised you from all the articles. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Taylor has done a story on it." Eddie rolls his eyes.

He doesn't mean to be so... combative. Its just. Buck's been talking about Natalia since they met her thirteen hours into a twenty-four hour shift. He's been hearing this spiel for eleven hours, but he'd been able to hide behind Hen's amused looks and Chimney's teasing remarks, Bobby's fond head shakes and Ravi's poorly concealed judgemental looks. That was at the firehouse. But now Natalia has followed them into Eddie's home, into his kitchen, and he's just tired.

"She looked me in the eye and asked if I'd died recently," Buck huffs an incredulous little noise. "Explain that."

"She read about your death in the news," Eddie deadpans, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before leaning back against it. "It was a lucky guess, Buck."

"How so?"

"We're firefighters," Eddie says slowly. "She could have asked anyone of us if we'd died or almost died recently and the answer would have been yes."

"That's not true." Buck frowns, folding his arms over his chest and propping his hip up on the kitchen island.

"Yes, it is." Eddie drags a hand down his face with a sigh. "Jonah could have killed Hen, and he did kill Chim. Twice, actually. And that was less than a year ago. Bobby and all the Wendell stuff was pretty dangerous, not to mention the dispatch fire also less than a year ago. And then I—"

Here, Eddie pulls up short, biting back the desperate words that have been clogging his throat ever since a lightning bolt fell from the heavens.

He's been avoiding Buck's eyes since Natalia laid a hand on his arm and asked about his brush with death, half at the reminder of one of the worst days of his life, half because he'd been terrified that Buck would be able to read everything Eddie has been trying to hide. Now, he avoids Buck's eyes because Buck doesn't need to read what Eddie isn't saying, its there for him to hear plain as day.

"You?" Buck shifts. "You haven't been almost killed since, well, the hostage situation was probably the last time and that was more than a year ago, so its not exactly recent."

Or, well, maybe Buck's more deaf than Eddie had imagined.

"I mean, I guess the whole blimp thing was pretty dangerous, but like—"

Eddie looks at him then, sees the confusion settling into the lines of Buck's face. He scoffs again, the sound slipping from his lips before he can stop it.

"Unless there's something I don't know about?" Buck raises an eyebrow at him, careful and probing and a little terrified, if Eddie isn't mistaken.

"Of course, there's not." Eddie shakes his head, wonders whether or not to take the out.

"Eddie."

"Buck." He takes a deep breath, hopes the bite to his voice will be exhaled with it. "Drop it."

"No, Eddie, apparently I don't know that you almost died," Buck says, something high and thready and horrified in his words.

"I didn't almost die," Eddie spits out, "I died, Buck."

"What?" Buck's whole body pulls taut with tension like an elastic band stretched to its limit, his eyes wide and full of fear.

"Well, besides the fact that I ran up a wet, electrified ladder without a line..." Eddie's voice breaks, and he clears his throat, turning towards the kitchen counter and pressing his hands to the cold marble until his fingertips turn white. "Three minutes and seventeen seconds."

"Eddie," Buck breathes.

"For three minutes and seventeen seconds, I felt what it was like to die whilst still walking around with working lungs and a beating heart. So, no, I didn't almost die," Eddie directs the words down at his numb hands, "I did die. With you." He downs the last of his water, tossing the bottle into the sink before turning to face Buck. "She made a lucky guess." Eddie makes his way to the door, stopping with a hand on the frame. "When her next guess isn't so lucky, there will be a couch waiting for you at home."

[impala-dreamer]

Tourniquet - Chapter Nine

 Supernatural Dean x Reader Series Told Backwards

~Y/N has been by Dean’s side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment’s peace.~

Please see MASTERLIST for full info/warnings/chapter links.

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Another Summer Alone

“Y/N!” 

She was sitting on the old creaky stairs, knobby knees bent up to her chest. She was staring at the front door, waiting impatiently for the handle to turn. 

“Y/N Y/L/N! Where you at, girl?” 

Bobby’s voice boomed through the downstairs, bouncing off the plaster walls and finding its way to her ears. 

“I’m here!” 

She stood up as he appeared, wiping his wet hands with an old yellow rag. She was clean and dressed, hair uncharacteristically brushed out and hanging down over her shoulders. Her arms and legs were bare, and she wore a pale blue sundress and her white Keds.

Bobby’s brow creased as he looked her over. 

“Whatchoo all dressed up for?” 

Y/N shrugged, hiding her nervous smile. “Nothin’. Can’t a girl get dressed up around here? I am a girl, in case you forgot like everyone else.” 

He hummed in reply and adjusted his trucker hat, wiggling it back into place. He was not as clean, wearing an old shirt and jeans, both more holy than the man himself; and a gray flannel that matched the grease stains on his hands. No matter how much he scrubbed his hands, they never looked clean. The dirt had sunk deep into the cracks of his palms, settled in the nail beds, seeped into his skin. Still, Y/N thought he was handsome, even with the scratchy beard and growing beer gut. He was Uncle Bobby. He was safe and caring and sturdy. 

“Quit staring already,” she huffed, waving his gaze away with a delicate hand. 

Bobby caught her hand and tugged it gently, turning her palm down. “You wearin’ nail polish, too?” 

Y/N yanked her hand from his and turned her nose up in the air. “I can wear nail polish if I want to.” 

“And that stuff on your eyes - your father let you wear that crap?” 

She looked back over her shoulder and prepared to fight back at such an accusation with some teenage rampage about how if he cared what she did with her body, he’d be there to yell at her himself. Before the words could truly form, she heard it. 

Gravel crushed under tires. 

A roaring engine. 

The heavy creak of door hinges. 

A knock on the door. 

Her heart raced and she looked at Bobby who nodded toward the door, letting her get it. 

The setting sun was bright, striking her gaze with a familiar sting. 

Green eyes, spiked hair, pale freckles, beautiful smile. Seventeen looked good on him.

Dean bit his bottom lip as he looked her over. “Hey, Y/N/N.” 

Her heart soared;, her cheeks burned. “Hey, Dean.” 

A gruff voice broke through their reunion as John pushed Dean through the entryway. 

“You gonna stand outside all day or get in? Move it, Dean.” 

The older boy stepped aside and John bounded in, ignoring Y/N and greeting Bobby with a firm handshake and a manly hug. 

The smell of whiskey and dirty smoke followed him in and Y/N gagged silently next to Dean. He laughed under his breath and gave her a secret wink. 

Sam was next through the door, carrying two giant duffle bags that were threatening to take the kid down. 

“Hi, Y/N,” he greeted shyly as Dean took the weight from his left shoulder.

“Heya, Sam. Nice to see ya.” 

He blushed as if the simple fact that she knew his name was enough to send him to seventh heaven. 

With the welcome done, Bobby cleared his throat. “Well, if you boys want supper, drop your bags upstairs and get cleaned up. We wash our hands before eating here.” 

Sam nodded and adjusted the strap on his arm. “Yes, sir.” 

Dean hung back with Y/N, wanting to talk to her, but John snapped at him. 

“You too, Dean.” 

He sighed. “Yes, sir.” 

John rolled his eyes and turned away, following Bobby into the back. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dean whispered to Y/N, accidentally on purpose bumping into her as he went for the stairs. 

“Me too,” she grinned. 

She watched him go, dreaming of running away with him someday, of stealing a car from out front and racing off into the sunset together. 

He must have felt her staring and paused on the top step. He glanced back down at her.

“You look really nice,” he said.

Her heart nearly burst. 

John left the next morning and the house seemed to sigh in relief. 

They spent the summer days lounging about or sneaking around in the Ford graveyard. Sam kept to himself, shoving his nose in a book or trying to get better reception from the rabbit ears on the old tv in the bedroom. 

Bobby kept one eye on the budding couple, but mostly let them do as they pleased. Dean and Y/N were too old now to really reprimand, but he was especially attentive when they teens hung about in the shadows. It would be one thing for them to get hurt fooling around in the yard, scraping knees or burning themselves on hot metal, but Y/N ending up pregnant under his nose was something he wasn’t willing to risk.

Y/N hadn’t been so happy in a long time and from the look of the fading bruises on his face and arms, neither had Dean. 

He seemed sadder than she remembered him being. Despite his smile, there was something underneath that she couldn’t quite reach, some secret he was holding in. She held him just a little tighter when they hugged, snuggled just a little closer when they sat together on the ratty old sofa. 

Still, there was a calmness between them, a warmth that they shared, as if the sun were beating down just for them. When Dean looked at her, he smiled. When she held his hand, he relaxed. 

It was nice. 

Days turned to weeks and the summer wind grew warmer. They spent hours in the field or down by the stream, kicking rocks into the water and chatting about everything. 

Dean was proud that John had finally let him hunt and he assured Y/N that he was being safe, and was actually really good at it. She worried, but knew that someday he’d be the greatest hunter in the world. He was amazing like that. She had no doubts. 

Y/N talked quietly about her travels with her father, about the miles and monsters they’d conquered. They’d finally made it to Kentucky, she announced with the cadence of an inside joke, and his smile made her melt.

“You ever wish you didn’t know about this stuff?” he asked one evening while they lay in the grass side by side. 

Y/N was propped up on one arm, watching him as he watched the fireflies sparkle overhead. 

“I guess. Yeah.” She sighed. “I mean, this is life, isn’t it? I think I’d rather know the thing under my bed could really kill me instead of pretending it didn’t exist.” 

Dean chewed his bottom lip. His hands were clasped behind his head and he shifted a bit, getting comfortable even as his words made it impossible.

“I’d rather not know, I think,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I want to do this the rest of my life. I’d rather be doing something else. Anything else.” 

Y/N smiled softly. “And what would you be doing right now if you weren’t stuck on this track?” 

He turned his eyes to her. “Honestly?” 

She laughed. “Always.” 

He took a breath and twisted onto his side, facing her. “I’d take you and run. Get away from everything. Find some place safe, some place that isn’t crawling with evil sons of bitches. Somewhere we could just… live.” 

Y/N felt that old familiar ache in her chest and she dropped her chin, tugged on a blade of grass between them. His words soaked into her soul, and she wished more than anything that he was serious, that they could really run away together. 

“That’s a nice dream, Dean,” she whispered. 

“Yeah…” 

There was more to say, more she wanted to tell him, but nothing came out. She was stunned by his hand suddenly on her cheek, his fingers holding her so tentatively. 

“Would you?” he asked, eyes locked on hers, lips drawing ever closer. 

She was trembling despite the warmth pushing off of him. “Would I what?”

“Run away with me.” 

Her eyes fell closed and her stomach fluttered. She leaned in, closing the void between them. 

“Yes.” 

It wasn’t her first kiss, nor was it his, but the taste of him would linger on her lips forever. The feel of his body rolling over her, pressing her into the ground would live in her head for the rest of her life. 

They kissed as the sky darkened; hands fumbling over cotton, lips chasing more. His tongue was hungry, his knee between her legs was like a match igniting everything inside of her. 

It was quiet and desperate and clumsy, but it was perfect all the same, and only the fireflies knew. 

Dean was fiddling with something on the workbench, his back to the yard. He was sweating in the hot August sun and his gray t-shirt was dark around the collar and under his arms. His jeans were dusty and a greasy handprint painted his back right pocket. 

Y/N slapped it when she approached and Dean yelped, jumping off his feet. 

“Gah!” 

She laughed. “Gotcha.” 

He spun around, hands hiding something behind his back. “You sure do…” 

Her arms slid up around his neck and he dipped down to kiss her lips. A quick peck that she filled with as much love as she possibly could. 

Mama once warned her not to go falling in love with just anyone who winked at her, and not to spend her youth running from one bed to another. She hadn’t understood at the time, but the older she got, the more sense it made. 

But sixteen wasn’t too young to fall in love and Dean Winchester wasn’t just anyone. 

He pulled back before he wouldn’t be able to any longer. “Wanna run into town tonight? Maybe catch a movie?” 

Y/N’s smile fell. “Um…” 

Dean searched her eyes. “What’s wrong?” 

She took a step back and shifted her weight between each foot. “My dad’s here. He just showed up.” 

His face fell. “Oh.” 

“He wasn’t supposed to be back for a few weeks, I didn’t know-” 

Dean’s jaw tensed and he looked down at his boot; kicked up some dust. “It’s cool.” 

Y/N’s chest ached. “I’m sorry, Dean. I want to stay. I want to run away with you but-” 

“Hey-” He stopped her, hand raising between them. “It was just a dream.”  

Wetness threatened to spill from her eyes. “Yeah, it was.” 

He took a breath and pulled his right hand from behind his back. “Made you something,” he said, letting a thin ball chain hang down. 

Y/N’s breath was heavy, her smile true. She took the necklace and held it in her palm. The pendant was a thin lug nut, probably something he’d kicked up in the gravel, polished and sanded down a bit. 

She laughed sweetly. “It’s…”

He cringed. “Stupid, I know.” 

“... it’s perfect, Dean.” 

It hung on her neck, dipping down to just above the low cut of her tank top. The metal gleamed in the sun and it burned between them as Dean leaned down for one last kiss. 

Tourniquet Tags:

@prettyinplaid94 @winharry @muhahaha303  @cookiechipdough @ladysparkles78

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67@k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05 

[wearywinchester]

Stubborn

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Even though you’re just as stubborn as Dean, you can never stay mad at each other.

Word Count: 3.8k

Requested by @flamencodiva: “You did what?”

Warnings: injury, blood, little bit of arguing, fluff, kissing

Dean Winchester

Fiercely protective of those he loves without a second thought on the matter. In fact, you’re starting to think there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do to keep you safe, you knew there wasn’t. He’d go to the very ends of the earth if it meant you’d be okay, if it meant you were safe. He’d stop at nothing to keep it that way no matter what that meant for his fate. He was selfless and you knew that to be true for as long as you can remember.

With such traits came with the stubbornness should you try and do the same, came with hard stares and furrowed brows. It brought with it his reluctance to let you stray too far on a hunt; if he had it his way, you wouldn’t tag along on hunts at all. But Dean Winchester met his match when it came to you. Equally as stubborn, casting him the same narrowed stares and furrowed brows, the same determination to look out for him just as much as he did you.

It brought on a great deal of huffs and puffs, and that certainly hadn’t changed now.

When he’d caught sight of the fact that you’d been injured on a hunt he didn’t even want you on in the first place, he didn’t take too well to that. Not that you were expecting him to, nor would he ever. You had dreaded the very moment when he’d see the scarlet smeared across your cheek, knew for a fact that he’d be anything but thrilled to see you hurt no matter what it was. And you were right.

He’d pushed himself off the Impala, releasing his lip from between his teeth where he’d been biting it out of nervous habit. He came to you the moment he saw the cut grazing your cheek and the way you held your side cautiously, your face twisted partly in discomfort and partly to brace yourself for what was to come next. But he came to you immediately— always did and he always would. Yet the words that came to follow, the attitude, that was always something you could count on with all the certainty in the world. It was Dean.

The very first thing that came out of his mouth was a question of if you were okay, that was on the forefront of his mind as he’d made his way to you and Sam with quick strides. He was careful when he peeled back the bottom of your shirt, patchy blotches of crimson just barely staining through the soft cotton material to reveal a less than ideal scratch. Not deep enough to need stitches but enough for him to tense his jaw with worry. When his eyes fell on you, brow raised in anticipation of an answer, you had simply nodded in return.

“That was really stupid,” he muttered once he knew full well you’d be okay.

You rolled your eyes.

“‘M fine, Dean.”

“You’re bleeding, Y/n. And it could’ve been way worse than that, you know,” he said, voice raising a bit more than it was.

“Well it’s not,” you counter, narrowing your eyes only briefly before the action had pulled at the cut on your cheek that you’d seemed to have forgotten. Your wince, no matter how subtle, had only proved his point and only made you angrier.

“I told you to stay back on this one.”

“Well, I didn’t!”

“If you’re gonna fight with me, sweetheart, at least change up your comebacks.”

“I’ll do what I want,” you say, looking away from him only briefly to gather yourself, a huff puffing out from your nose.

You’ll do what you want.

That was the problem. You always did what you wanted, when you wanted to. It was something he loved about you more than he’d admit because it only brought with it fear. He admired your independence, your ability to handle things yourself, your stubbornness when someone tries to stop you from doing anything but that. He loved it and he hated it because he knew it all too well. It was reckless and dangerous to go off and do that on your own the way you did.

“I’ll be fine till we make it back to Bobby’s. I can patch myself up there,” you mumble, voice softer than moments ago.

He bit his tongue then, jaw tense and eyes narrowed down at you to meet an equally frustrated stare. As much as he loved how stubborn you were, as much as he admired your ability to hold your own and refuse to back down—those qualities about you had been working against him in that moment, had been pushing his buttons because now was not the time to be so stubborn.

You were hurt.

He wanted to tell you just how upset it made him that you’d gotten hurt, how guilty it made him feel that it happened on his watch because he felt it was his responsibility to protect you. He always felt that way even when he’d just been your best friend who was too oblivious to see you were the love of his life. He wanted to tell you how angry it’d made him that you went ahead and tagged along on that hunt even when he told you not to get involved. But there was no stopping you—you did what you wanted whenever you wanted and that’s one of the things he loved about you.

Though in that very moment he wished you would have listened just that once.

Even with everything running through his mind in a heap of worry and frustration, he’d left it at a tense jaw and a hard gaze but that had only lasted all of ten seconds with the way you looked at him. The argument that had been sitting on his tongue, ready to be spoken in harsh words and loud tones had melted away.

He was ready to tell you just how ridiculous you were to not let him patch you up right then and there, for thinking he’d let you do it yourself. But he didn’t. Instead, he purses his lips and clears his throat, offering a barely there not before moving around you to get in the car. He knew full well he wouldn’t let you tend to your own wounds, he would never let you do that no matter how angry he might be. But he decided not to say any more until you got back, didn’t want to argue any more than you already did.

That was where he left it the entirety of the drive back. No classic rock playing on the radio for a good while until Sam had decided the tension was far too unbearable for things to be absolutely silent. It was spent with you sulking in the backseat, your brows furrowed and the inside of your cheek between your teeth in your attempt to will away angry tears and stave off how much you wanted to give into the fact that your wounds hurt a little more than you let on.

His knuckles were white with how he’d gripped the wheel, his gaze flickering from the road ahead to the rear view in a constant pattern of glances just to see if you’re okay. And each and every time he laid eyes on your frown, at the crease between your brows all telling of your emotions— it made his stomach twist and churn.

When you got back to the house you were quick to try and disappear off to the bathroom, entering the house first as you rushed past a confused Bobby Singer without a greeting, Dean hot on your heels with just as much determination leaving the man to be doubly confused at the sight. It’s when he turns to Sam that he gets a little bit of an answer, the younger Winchester offering a shrug and an awkward smile at the ever present tension in the air.

“Will you slow down?” Dean asks when you pull the first aid kit from under that bathroom sink. You’re moments away from closing the door when he beats you to it, hand wrapping around the edge of the wood and boot stepping in the way of its closing. “I’m patching you up.”

“I can do it myself.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Your gaze shifts to him and your jaw tenses at his insistent tone, he’s got a stare to rival yours and you knew there was no changing his mind on this no matter how tough you made yourself out to be.

“De,” you exhale, your initial anger beginning to fade some but just that. “Fine.”

With a huff and an eye roll you hop up on the counter, the smile on his lips less than sincere and more so that of a teasing act in favor of getting his way before a softer look falls over his expression. One that was still a ready display of his anger but not enough for you to think that he hadn’t cared, that he wasn’t clouded with worry.

That was one thing he was terrible at—hiding his emotions. He could bite back his words and stuff them down, bottle them up for a good long while. He could leave them there to simmer in the back of his mind with the help of some beer and whiskey until it all eventually boiled over in a show of anger and frustration. But he was bad at hiding the very emotions he felt.

You could see it with the way the crease between his eyebrows hadn’t left since you insisted on going on that hunt. You could see it with the way the tension remained in his jaw, intensifying each and every time he saw the scratch on your cheek or the ruby stains on your shirt. His lips will purse till those dimples show in the corners of his mouth, and his grip will tighten on anything he touches. Dean Winchester was a terrible actor.

He sifted through the old plastic kit, pulling the peroxide from the cabinet as he grabbed more than enough cotton pads and a few too many bandages from their rightful spots. He laid everything out on the counter, soaking a pad in the clear liquid before his gaze returned to you.

“This’ll hurt a little,” he mumbled, his other hand settling on your cheek.

“Can’t hurt more than this.”

He wasn’t happy with your words, that much was obvious, the look on his face telling you just how much before his expression softened. He brushed the material over the wound, the sting you knew all too well burning atop the fresh scratch as the peroxide bubbled over the irritated area. You moved back from him only slightly, his hand on your cheek keeping you from straying too far. He was patient, though, angry with the fact that you were hurt to begin with but patient.

“He really got you good,” he murmurs, gentle as he continues to wipe away the blotches of crimson sitting smeared around the mark adorning your cheek. You could hear the frustration in his voice despite the softness of his words, the pad of his thumb swiping lightly over your skin.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, less defensive than the last time you’d said it but it hadn’t comforted him in that moment.

“Would you cool it with the tough guy act, sweetheart?” He huffs, dropping his hand from your face and tossing the dirtied cotton pad in the trash.

A few moments passed before he sighed, focusing his attention on opening a bandage to let his anger simmer down some more. He crinkled the wrapper in his hand and tossed it in the small garbage can, his eyes moving back to you. You give him a half smile then, the corner of your mouth quirking up only slightly as you breathe out a sigh of your own through your nose.

The simple action seemed to cool him off as his shoulders relaxed a fraction, and you even caught a glimpse of a hint of a smile. One that faded just as quickly as it’d come as he pressed the small bandage over your cheek. You rest your hand over his, the action stilling the thoughts that had been swirling around in his mind for a few moments. It was then that he looked at you again, the close proximity having given you a flurry of butterflies in your stomach as if you hadn’t already kissed the Winchester a thousand times over. But you were sure that was a feeling that would never go away.

You smile then, one he sees immediately as he flashes you an inquiring look with a simple raise of his eyebrow.

“You’re cute when you’re angry, you know,” you say, paired with a tilted of your head and your smile widening, hand squeezing his.

You barely got the words out before he rolled his eyes, turning his head away from you in favor of hiding his half smile, an effort that hadn’t worked quite as well as he’d hoped but he tried his best anyway. He even shook his head in an attempt to stave it off, running a hand over his face.

“You’re a pain, sweetheart.”

“I know.”

He gave in and smiled then, head still shaking as he moved onto the scratch across your hip. He was just as gentle as the first time he peeled back your shirt, revealing a similar situation as the one he’d just tended to and he heaved another sigh that was more than telling of just how he’d felt about it. If it was possible, you were quite sure that steam would be coming out of his ears in that very moment, his fingers brushing over the sensitive skin around the scratch as he huffed through flared nostrils.

“I’m okay, Dean, it’s okay,” you remind him, trying your best to make him realize that though you know he won’t.

“It’s not, Y/n. Quit sayin’ that,” he grumbles, “it could’ve been worse out there.”

“You said that already,” you sigh, and he’s not amused but he refuses to admit the way he feels the slightest bit better at the nonchalance of your attitude. It calms him and stresses him all the same to be perfectly honest, but he’ll keep the former a secret for the time being.

“Yeah yeah,” he mumbles quietly.

He says nothing more as he works, gentle as ever as he cleans everything the best he can. You said you were okay but he notices each time you tense up, can see when you clench your fist or suck in a sharp breath no matter how hard you try and hide it. But a simple soft glance your way, a gentle swipe of his thumb over your skin was enough to make it all the more better each of those times.

After another minute or two passes things become more bearable than they had been, and you were beginning to become less focused on the pain that ebbed away and more on the man tending to your wounds. He’s got more than enough attitude for one person, quick wit and sarcasm falling from his lips even in the scariest of moments. His words could be venomous to those he’s not too wild about, but he can also be one of the sweetest people you’ve ever known all the same.

You couldn’t help the smile trying so desperately to show, one he’d noticed the moment he pulled his gaze to you.

“What?” He asked curiously before looking down once more.

“Nothing,” you say, spotting a small grin forming as he shook his head. It was not nothing and he knew it.

But that smile soon came back to tug at the corners of your mouth, a soft laugh falling past your lips that you knew you couldn’t help even if you had tried to. You were done stifling it at this point.

“Remember that time I baited that werewolf?” You ask, biting the inside of your cheek once more in an effort to stifle your smile.

He paused what he was doing, gaze lifting to meet yours as the crease between his brows deepened at the mere thought of it. His palms rested on either side of you atop the counter for a moment, lips pursed. “You mean that ridiculously stupid thing you did on that hunt? How could I forget.”

You give up on fighting your widening smile completely now, huffing out another soft laugh instead as you shook your head at his grumpy words. “I did it to save you, you know.” He laughs softly, a bittersweet one at that. “I did it today too.”

He barely finished bandaging your hip when his stare returned to you, narrowed with bits of anger seeping in more and more with each passing second.

“You did what?”

You give him a knowing look, one he’s come to know all too well. He wanted to be in disbelief, wanted to think you wouldn’t put yourself in danger just for the sake of saving him. He didn’t feel he was worth it, not enough for you to wind up with even so much as a scratch as a result. But all you do is shrug, you shrug and you give him that smile that makes him weak in the knees every time you grace him with it. That smile that makes even his angriest moments melt away in a single second. That smile that’s getting him to soften his frown and lighten the heaviness of his glare just by the simple sweetness of it even if he wanted to hold onto that anger so you know just how much he disagreed with what you did. But he couldn’t help it.

“You don’t need to save me sweetheart, trust me you don’t,” he says, averting his gaze as he busies himself with packing up the first aid kit just as it was before.

“You’re not always the quick witted hunter you make yourself out to be, you know. Somebody’s got to do it,” you counter, your tone nothing but light and teasing as your words grab his attention just as quickly as ever.

“Very funny. I meant what I said,” he grumbles, fidgeting with the bandage on your hip before picking at the loose string dangling from the hem of your shirt.

“So did I,” you say, head tilted and smile bright as you brushed the hair away that stuck to his forehead.

“Yeah, you’re a pain.”

You puff out a sigh as your smile stays, more sincere than the teasing grin you once held mere seconds ago. The grumpy look on his face became more amused, unable to stay too angry when you keep looking at him the way you do. The way you always do and he always knows just how soft it makes him, because if there’s anyone in this world that can make him feel butterflies of all things, that can even slightly sway him with even so much as a glance in his direction—it’s you. It’s always you.

You couldn’t stay mad at each other for very long.

You reached up and pressed your hand to his jaw softly, the more than obvious tension in it melting away under your touch. Those little dimples by the very corners of his lips were still very much there, though his humor was still shining through all the same. You could see each and every freckle that dotted along his nose and cheeks at this proximity, could see the ones that were hidden by his lashes and the ones that splayed all the way over to his ears. Each one was a different size and each one even cuter than the last, all complimented by the pale pink shade in his cheeks from the anger that once had him so burned up that day.

“You’re not the only one that gets to save the ones you love, De,” you say softly, an even softer smile on your lips to go with it.

He sighed at your words, an eye roll soon after as he pulled your hand from his face and held it in his own. You could tell he disagreed with that, you knew he would, because the thought of someone he’d cared about putting their life on the line just for the sake of saving him wasn’t one that sat well with him. Especially when that person is you.

“You keep sayin’ that and I keep hating it,” he murmurs, and you laugh quietly, the action causing the corner of his mouth to quirk up.

“And I’ll keep saying it.”

He laughed then, soft as it puffs warmly against your lips. He knows there’s no convincing you otherwise, there was no changing your mind on the subject just the same as there was no changing his. You were tough as nails and he could argue till he was blue in the face but there was no chance you’d miss an opportunity to protect him just as much as he does you whether he likes it or not. He doesn’t.

He leans in a little closer, so much so his lips brush over yours with each word he speaks in that moment. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“I think I know someone who just might be worse than I am,” you say, his hum sounding mere centimeters from your lips as cue to keep talking as if he hadn’t known just who it was you were talking about. “You see, he’s got these pretty green eyes and he’s devilishly handsome,” you start, his smile widening. “But he’s got a mouth on him, like seriously, he just might be one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever—”

“Okay, okay c’mere,” he sighs, amusement woven around his words as he quiets you.

His lips meld with yours and cut the rest of your own words short in favor of your affection, his smile pressing into your lips and lingering there as he makes no effort to stray too far from you. His hands come up to settle on your cheeks again, the pads of his thumbs brushing lightly over your skin in the sweetest of touches as he kisses you once more before his hands fall down your arms to rest over top of your hands.

“Try and be a little more careful, sweetheart?” He asks softly, the tip of his nose bumping against yours. In other words, I love you.

You simply nod, smile sweet as your forehead rests against his. It’s not his ideal answer, because ideally, he didn’t want you in danger at all. Ideally, he’d rather you stay back when it comes to hunts. But he knows you wouldn’t go for that idea, and he knows he’s got to deal with that though he’ll always put up that fight even though he knows he won’t ever win. You’re stubborn and he loves you.

He’s got you.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes

[sarija]

@expectingtofly @starrynightdeancas

Here's my first ever written fanfic as a gift for @expectingtofly who never received her original gift from starrynightdeancas gift exchange. Enjoy 🙂

Words: 3657

Notes at the end of this post!

Home

“So I guess the question is,” Bobby asks, “What're ya gonna do now, Dean?”

Dean looks at baby, considering. He smiles back at Bobby and answers, “Well, I gotta go for a drive.”

 

 

After about ten miles, Dean pulls over. There's a lookout just a few steps from the road, and he follows the trail to the end, feeling overwhelmed by the info Bobby has given him. Cas is here. He helped Jack rebuilding Heaven. He remembers the last time he'd seen Cas. He would have given everything to see him again, to get him back, but all the efforts he and Sam had tried on Earth were useless. Now, there's a good chance he might see Cas again and he has no idea what to say to him.

At this moment, he feels the presence of someone beside him. Anxiously he turns around. For a moment, he hopes to see Cas, but instead, it's Jack and a warm feeling of relief washes over him. He doesn't know if he's ready just yet.

“Jack!” He exclaims, pulling Jack into a tight hug. “It's so good to see you, kid!”

Jack hugs him back, clapping him on the back before freeing himself. “Hey, Dean. It's good to see you too. I'm sorry I couldn't intervene...but I'm glad you are here.” Dean just shakes his head.

“You know, kid, Sam and I had an agreement of going down smashing, and this I did. I … I have no resentments over this.”

Jack offers him a short nod before saying, “Dean, I think there's someone who wants to see you. Are you ready?”

Dean then notices a figure standing way back, beside one of the bushes. He is ready. He has to be. He's been waiting so long to see him again, he can't even believe that he doubted he was ready in the first place. Dean swallows back a big lump in his throat. He walks a few steps. There he is. Just beside a big flowerbed, bees humming around busily, Dean sees him standing in the glow of the setting sun. He lets his eyes wander from the well-known boots upwards, over the hem of this trenchcoat he missed so damn much. The coat is glistening in the sunlight, it looks like it's giving off a light of itself. Over the blue tie, upwards, over the 5-o'clock beard, then those soft lips, further to these warm and blue eyes, deep like the ocean, light as a cloudless sky. And Cas is looking back at him, wondering, tilting his head just a little, the way he always did, back then when they were on Earth. Dean doesn't feel the single tear running down his cheek, he doesn't see Jack looking happily at him, he can only see Cas, standing there in the sun, looking like the most beautiful being he's ever seen in his whole life. Cas, his friend, his family, his angel and most importantly – the love of his life.

He steps forward slowly, afraid that this is just a dream, one of those damned dreams he's had over the weeks after Cas had been gone, had thrown himself into the Empty. In his dreams, Cas was there, waiting for him, but all of a sudden, he'd be gone, swallowed up by a big nothingness, or bursting out in flames and screaming in pain, or saying 'I love you, Dean' but retreating while Dean wanted to get to him, to hug him, to hold him, until his angel was gone and away.

But Cas is still there, smiling now, looking at Dean with his amazingly blue eyes. He lifts his hands and whispers “Dean” and Dean can't keep it any longer. He takes the last steps in a few fast strides and falls into Cas' arms, pulling him into a tight hug and crying silent tears onto his shoulder. Cas starts stroking his hair, softly, hushing and repeating all over “It's okay, Dean” until they both break apart. Dean doesn't want to let go of Cas, he holds his arms, looks at him over and over, but he can't find the words to describe how much this means to him. So he just stands there, breathing heavily, watching him, until he feels Cas' hand upon his cheeks, wiping away the tears on Dean's face. And all of a sudden, Dean knows there's no need to hold anything back anymore, there's no need to hide anything, because there's nothing here to threaten them. Nothing is going to take Cas away ever again.

Dean swallows, clears his throat.

“Cas... I …You ... How?” is all he manages.

Cas shakes his head. “I'll tell you later. We've got all the time in the world now.” He looks at Jack, who is still standing a little way behind them, smiling. “Now, who wants to have some dinner?”

--

They take the Impala to drive to Cas' place. While Dean is driving, he's absurdly aware of Cas sitting beside him in the passenger's  seat. He even feels the intensity of Cas' eyes upon him, until he finally blurts out, “Hey buddy, it's good to see you too but – could you please stop staring at me? I'm not a freak show, y'know?” At that, Jack snorts loudly in the back, clapping Dean on his shoulder. He doesn't say anything else, but Dean knows that he's enjoying this moment as much as he is. He sends a small smile to Jack and Cas, but Cas has turned his face away from him, looking out of the window instead, chin in his hand. For a moment, Dean worries if his words had hurt the angel. This would be the last thing he'd want to do, especially on the first day of meeting him again. He wonders if he should say something, anything, to make sure everything's fine. But what should he say? Tell him he didn't mean it? He never was a man of apologies, and Cas knows that. He just wanted him to look away, cause his staring was so freaking distracting. He wants to return his gaze, he wants to never stop looking into those amazing eyes, eyes that had seen so much, eyes that had looked so worried at times, Dean almost couldn't even bare it. He wants Cas to be happy, to smile, to forget the bad stuff he'd lived through. And now he'd said something that hurt him. Why was it so hard to just take it back? He never knew, cause right at this moment Jack spoke up.

“It's the light blue house over there, Dean. Just drive up to the front, there's a parking spot for you beside Cas' car.”

Dean drives as being told, parking beside a yellow-brown-ish '78 Lincoln Continental. He recognizes it instantly, it's the same car Cas had been using whenever he wanted to get something done on his own, and Cas had always seemed pretty fond of it. It brings back a lot of memories and Dean starts smiling involuntary.

They get out of Dean's car and step up the front porch. Cas takes the lead, opening the white door for them, welcoming both into his home. Dean risks a quick glance at him before entering. Cas doesn't seem to be hurt anymore, he looks pleased and happy. And Dean thinks he understands why.

Dean enters the hallway, looking around and taking in as many details as he can. There is a kitchen to his right, with wooden fronts and very clean. Right ahead there's an arc, decorated with roses in different colours – red, white, yellow, lilac and pale blue. They are rooted in two pink flower pots, one on either side of the arc. To his left are two wooden doors. He guesses that one would probably lead to the bathroom, the other one he's got no idea. They walk through the arc, entering a really big living room, bright and clear. The windows here let the sun warm up the room just enough to feel right, and the light-colored furniture reflects rays of sunshine without blinding them. 'It's perfect', Dean thinks to himself, wondering where Cas got those pictures of them and Sam in the bunker. One of the photos shows them with their hands on one another's shoulders, smiling into the camera. Dean can see his own forced smile, dark circles under wary looking eyes. He takes the photograph of it's shelf, looking at him, Cas and Sam. Sammy. He's looking back at him out of the picture, smiling and waving and looking contend and happy.

“Dean.”

He forces himself to put the photo back on the shelf and turns around to see Cas standing in the doorway.

“You know, he's not a freak show,” Cas mimics, but Dean can see he's worried.

“Thanks, Cas. I know. It's just … I hope he's alright, I hope he's living a good life down there, but -”

“You miss him.” Cas finishes. It's not a question, it's a statement.

“Yeah, man,” is all he can answer. He turns around to wipe at something in his eyes, then turns again and asks, “When will we be eating?”

“In a few minutes. We're waiting for … someone to arrive here, it won't be much longer now.”

Just as Cas finishes his sentence, they hear a soft knock on the door and someone entering the house.

“Who is this?” Dean asks, but Cas is already on his way to the kitchen and Dean just follows.

 

–

 

Dean still can't believe it. He just finished his second helping of T-Bone-Steak, mashed potatoes and fried rice, everything as delicious as he'd hoped for (he'd left out the vegetables). His stomach is full and he leans back really satisfied. This is amazing. He hadn't given a thought to the fact that now that he was in Heaven, he might meet his mom and dad again. Seeing all of them on this table in Cas' dining room – Mary and John, Cas, Jack and Bobby – laughing, eating, smiling, talking about things they did 'down there' and things to do 'up here', it was unbelievable. Dean watches all of them closely. They look so full of joy he can't help grinning like an idiot. His mom is laughing hard from a joke of John and Dean enjoys to see her relaxed and free of worries. His dad claps her on the back, then starts to stroke her gently. He too looks unstressed, there's no trace of the old, haunted John in his face anymore. Even Bobby, though still being his grumpy self, seems pleased.

“Alright, Dean, I think it's time for a little storytime.” Cas watches him intently as he explains, “I think you wanted to know how I could escape The Empty and start my new life here.”

 

--

 

All eyes are upon Cas now. Mary puts the plates away, coming back with two six-packs of beer. She hands everyone a beer and Cas starts talking.

“As most of you know, I went with The Empty willingly, keeping my side of the deal we had made way back. Several months ago, there was a problem at hand. The Empty wanted to keep Jack. I told her to take me instead of him and she agreed to that but wanted to be sure to crush me. So she told me that she wouldn't just swap - she'd come and get me as soon as I would be truly happy. And that she did. When we talked, Dean, I had made a choice”. At this, Cas sends him the slightest smile, which makes Dean want to forgive him in an instant. “Well, as you know, this choice led to me being taken by that bitch. For a while, I lay there in nothingness, black nothing all around me, and I hoped to fall asleep, which I knew was sure to happen to everyone The Empty had swallowed. But not me. She wouldn't let me sleep because I had been an inconvenience to her. She wouldn't visit me either. I lay there until I couldn't lie anymore, I sat there for hours and hours, and finally, I stood up. There was no way to give up this easy, The Empty couldn't be invincible, right?” They all nod, fascinated by his story. Jack even has his eyes closed. Another big gulp of beer, then Cas goes on. “So I wandered around, screaming and trying to punch the Nothingness. I called her a lot of stuff just to get her attention, but it was useless. In the end, I stumbled and fell on my knees and was none-the-wiser. But that was the moment I realized it. There was nothing to be done for me alone. But there was someone who had already conquered The Empty, who had woken me up last time, who would maybe be able to do something about my situation. And even though I didn't want to involve him, I saw no other choice. So I prayed. And I was answered.”

“But I prayed too, why did I never get an answer?” Dean sputters out. Instantly, he feels the heat of shame crawling up his neck, but he still locks eyes with Jack, who has finally opened them.

“I heard you, Dean. And I am very sorry. I knew this would disappoint you, but there was no way for me to interfere down there anymore. I couldn't answer, because I couldn't bear to tell you. I am sorry.” Dean swallows hard, then Jack continues, “Then I heard Castiel. And I realized that I wasn't about to interfere down there – but The Empty was not down there, and there were several changes to be made, changes that were overdue.

I gathered up all the strength I could master. I summoned those around me who were willing to help. Gabriel was the first to respond. It might not surprise you that he had taken advantage of everyone assuming him dead, submerging into the benefits of a random gambler's life outside the radar. Yet when I called out to ask the help of every angel available, he immediately came to my side to be of assistance.

Michael was second to answer my call. He asked a lot of questions, wondering if he could trust me. He was hardest to convince – but wanted The Empty gone as much as I did. So he stayed and helped.

Most of the other living angels came to stand with us, but we still weren't enough. So I started to wake up the deceased. This was rather dangerous, as I didn't want The Empty to know something was up too soon. But Cas here did a great job – when I had awoken an angel, he'd find him and explain the matter, trying to be as quiet as possible.  Once we had gathered quite a number of angels, they took their positions, waiting for my command. First step was to lure The Empty out of her hiding place. Hannah, Anna, Gadreel and Joshua did a great job with that! They annoyed her one after the other, to the point she wanted to throw them all out. Next step was to surround and distract her. So everyone did their best to get her attention, circling her in further. Then the tricky part started. While the inside angels surrounded her, kept her encircled and disturbed, enraging her further to keep her at that spot, we on the outside started to open up a crack, getting others out of there. Gabriel took an essential part here, building up an illusion to cover our crack. As soon as we had Jane and Raphael, I knew it was time to finish it, because the inside angels were taking hit after hit.

With the help of Michael, Gabriel, Raphael and Jane, I managed to take hold of The Empty. Like Chuck did with Amara, we cast her out, chaining her up in the same lonely dimension Amara had once been held in. Michael sacrificed his powers to bear the new Mark that still was needed to have her caged.”

Jack pauses for a moment, takes a sip from his beer and watches the others. Mary and John are holding hands on the table, switching short glances now and then. Bobby looks like he's fallen asleep already, beer still clutched in his hand. Castiel seems to be entranced by Jack's story, elbows on the table, chin resting on his folded hands. A small smile playes on his lips and Dean notices how beautiful Cas' face looks when being relaxed. He doesn't know if he's even allowed to think this way, but he can't help it. He tries to focus on the story again.

“So, you cast her out. I guess the angels on the inside got out – seeing as Cas is here. But what about the other creatures this thing had held for an eternity?”

“Yes, that.” Jack answered, nodding. “I assumed it would be no good to send them all with The Empty. Instead, Jane and me enlarged the Purgatory, sent every monstrous creature down there and asked Rowena to magnify the intensity of their 'door'. In return she'd get the demon souls sent to Hell, and she willingly agreed to that.”

“Great.” Dean states, “more demons for her, no big deal.”

“Dean,” Cas whispers, obviously annoyed by this interruption.

“I don't like the idea of giving her more power, alright? It's no good. Rowena will use this somehow to do something bad, you know her, Cas!”

“Yes, Dean, I do know her. That's why Jack is keeping an eye on things. I thought you'd be happy to know that we all are safe now. I thought you'd be happy to see … me.”

All eyes are on Dean now, which makes him shift in his seat, feeling pretty uncomfortable.

“Man, you know I'm happy about … this all. I'm just wondering what this means for those left on Earth.”

“You mean Sam.”

Dean nods, not sure if he's able to answer right now.

Jack jumps in. “Don't worry, Dean. He's safe. I am sure of it – I can see it. Please believe me that no harm will come upon him as long as I'm here.”

This really does reassure him and he takes a big swig of his beer. He nods, satisfied for now. Then another thought comes to him.

“What about the angels you saved from The Empty? What exactly happened to them?”

“Oh, that's easy. Every deceased angel got a second chance. I made sure their loyalties were with me, then I sent them to work. There's a lot to do up here, and most angels are glad to be able to help. Michael is an exception though. As I said, he's had to sacrifice his powers to bear the new Mark, so he's powerless now. He's in hiding ...” Jake grins, “but I think … he'll bee alright.

With The Empty being gone, there were new rules to administer. Every monstrous creature – minus the demons - that dies from now on will find himself in purgatory. Demons that die will find themselves in Hell, but powerless. Rowena told me she's got some 'lovely tasks' for them. And every angel that meets his end will come back up here, being powerless but having a place to call home.”

Home. Dean looks around, taking in this wonderful place that Cas can now call his home. He loves this idea, and he feels quiet content with knowing all this.

After this, they switch the topic to easier stuff. Their conversation is light now, mostly about stuff to do in Mary's and John's house, like fixing a little hole in their roof, or repainting their furniture. John even asks if Dean would help him restore a '64 Ford Falcon and Dean eagerly agrees to be there tomorrow. But after a while of talking about the ups and downs of this special car, Mary stifles a wide yawn and John laughs. “It's time I guess! Thank you for this wonderful dinner and a great evening guys. Guess we'll see each other next week?”

“Same time, same place,” Cas answers grinning. “See you tomorrow, Dean,” John says and pulls him into a tight hug. Mary ruffles through his hair before hugging him, then she too says good-bye. Jack wakes up Bobby, half-pulling him out of his chair and tells him that it's time to get home. Bobby grunts, gives Dean a nod, and walks out the front door without another word, probably too tired to speak. Last to say goodnight is Jack, and he pulls both Dean and Cas into a big hug. They clap his back, and Dean thinks he can hear Cas whisper 'I'm proud of you' into Jack's ear. They all say good-night, then Jack is gone too. Closing the door behind Jack, Cas turns around to Dean, watches him closely, a slight pink shade on his cheeks.

“There's a guest room down the hall if you want to...” he leaves his sentence unfinished, but Dean understands.

He looks Cas in the eyes, feeling his heart suddenly hammering against his chest. There were words he wanted to say, but he doesn't remember. He's surprised – all those years down there, he had to hold everything back, and he has no fucking idea how he did that. Cas' eyes are still watching him, asking silent questions. Throwing cautions in the wind, Dean finally closes the distance and pulls Cas into a gentle kiss, hands on his cheeks. After a moment of surprise, Cas kisses him back, his lips soft and warm, and lays his hands around Deans waist. Their kiss seems to take an eternity, Dean has no feeling of time anymore, he just feels Cas' lips on his, and he knows that this is his happy place. His peace. His... he allows himself to think the word – his home.

Notes:

This fic is a gift for @expectingtofly on tumblr as part of the starrynightdeancas gift exchange. It's my first-ever written fanfic and I'd love to know what you think about it! I had a lot of fun writing this, creating my own kind of fix-it fiction. Also, I tried to stay canonical – with one exception, because I will never accept that the trickster was truly finished off!

Please note that I’m not a native speaker and there might be some spelling and grammar mistakes. I’m sorry! But I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

Have fun reading and leave a comment if you like <3

Not yet posted on AO3, still waiting for my invitation. I’ll have you updated as soon as I can post it there!

[kikilefangirl]

Finest

Logan Howlett x Reader

(Word Count: 1628)

“This exercise requires you to be self reliant in order to escape. While we are a team in and out of the field, each of you must be comfortable and connected with your gifts, individually.” You called out.

All of your students seemed to be a mix of over confidence, no confidence, or outright fear. You frowned.

A demonstration would be best.

“Pay attention everyone, when the test starts you’ll be on your own.” You told them.

Concentrating on the potential energy around you, you tapped into it with a stream of golden light. You collected a portion of it in your hand, and willed it into a broadsword. The energy hummed through your body as you moved with it, slashing in a downward arc through the air.

“Make your gift work for you in the moment,” With a swift motion the blade morphed into a shield, and then With a breath, you let the energy dissipate into nothing at all.

“And know when not to use it. You’ve got two weeks to prepare. And I’ve opened up office hours everyday up until then. Got it?”

The kids gave enough yeses and nods for you to dismiss them early. Once they were gone, you heard a drawn out huff from the back of the room.

“Logan!” You broke out in a wide smile and ran over to him. You knew better than to hug him, so you opted for a light hit on the shoulder.

“Charles didn’t tell anyone you were coming!” You exclaimed.

“Didn’t tell him.” Logan explained. You rolled your eyes because that was such a Logan thing to do.

Taking him in, you noticed his hair was a little shaggier than the last time you saw him, and his clothes looked like they’d been worn completely down by cold weather. He’d probably been up in the wilderness for all this time.

“I brought you booze. Most people say thank you.”

That was how you and Logan ended up drunk off your asses in your bedroom before dinner.

As a teacher you were given some grace with your room choice, meaning a larger room far away from students. You were free to do whatever and whomever, so long as you kept to yourself.

That was also the reason why you were dancing on Logan in a t- shirt and panties with the music blasting in the background. You felt his hands roam all over your body as you whined to the beat.

He was currently the one with the bottle, too. You drunkenly swirled around and took it from him. The liquor burned down your throat, but the feeling dulled when Logan slammed his lips on yours.

You felt like your body was on fire. Partly from the alcohol, partly from Logan’s hands and his kisses. He had you pinned against the wall farthest from the door, and you couldn’t concentrate on anything but Logan nor he you.

...

You woke the next morning to a hard body intertwined with yours.

Your room was an absolute mess, but you settled on resting your head on Logan’s bare chest. You’d get up later.

Your hair was matted in the back and the hair around your perimeter had reverted back to their coils in spite of the gel you used the day before. Plus, drunk you didn’t wear bonnets.

“Morning.” Logan said. His rough voice was throaty and tired. A pounding headache made you close your eyes and nestle in closer.

You were grateful not to see the two of you together anyway. It was never for long and never more than a fun way to spend time before you went your separate ways.

You and Logan were tumultuous at best.

The last time you saw him you were cussing him out and leaving him stranded in the city after a night out. That was two months ago. Last summer you decided to try dating, but the truth was if it wasn’t one thing, it was another, making the two of you very touch and go.

“I have a class in an hour.” You admitted.

Logan peered down at you. The corners of his lips were down turned, and his eyebrows were knitted together.

“The rug rats can live without you for a day.” He said, pulling you on top of him. You yelped at the sudden movement, but guessed that was an appropriate response to the naked girl lying in bed with him, telling him she was leaving. Even if it was for kids.

“I don’t use sick days on anybody but my mama, my daddy, and my brother.” You explained. You pecked his lips and got up.

“I fit in one category.” Logan said with a satisfied grin. You scoffed at him as you gathered your shower stuff.

“I don’t use sick days on you, Logan. Never have, never will.” You replied with a sarcastic smile.

A frantic banging on your door made both of you go quiet. Logan sniffed the air and snarled.

“It’s pretty boy.” Logan growled out. You huffed in annoyance––between him and Scott (and Jean for that, matter) nothing ever got done unless you did it. It was one of the many reasons Logan was a recurring guest at the mansion and not an occupant.

You swung the door open to a wide eyed, modest Scott, who quickly turned into arrogant, incensed Scott at the sight of a very naked Logan in your bed.

“Not now. What’s going on?” You demanded. Something wasn’t right if Scott was coming to you so early.

Bobby’s name was all he could say.

...

The scene that awaited you at the front door was heartbreaking.

Bobby was pacing up and down the balcony freezing anything he pointed at as he walked past. Blasts of frost shot from his hands in all directions. It was wild and uncontrolled. By the door, what looked like his parents and a brother were shouting his name in frustration. Bobby wasn’t the type to lash out for no reason, he just wasn’t that kid.

“I’m not leaving! This is my home!” Bobby cried out.

You sighed and cut your eyes to the professor, who was ushering children and staff away. A warning would have been nice, Professor.

I do apologize, this was...unexpected.

His voice rang out in your head, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Beside you, Logan drew his claws, but you put a hand on his chest. Bobby’s parents were clearly afraid of mutants and Logan was a walking stereotype of a scary mutant. Definitely not helpful.

Stepping forward, you used your powers to create a bubble around you and Bobby. Nobody needed to get hurt accidentally.

“Bobby! I need you to listen to me,” You started. The boy looked up at you tearfully, and you could see them freeze as they fell.

You took his hand, that along with the rest of his body fluctuated between ice and flesh, and held it. The cold stung, but he needed to feel your human hand.

“They’re taking me away!” He hollered. You narrowly dodged a blast of frost from your head. You held on tighter.

“I know that isn’t fair, Bobby! I know! But you have to calm down. Breathe, Bobby.” You pleaded with him. The less his parents saw him so out of control, the less likely they would send him to some camp or home for wayward mutants.

You took a deep breath, and Bobby did the same. One after another. In and out.

Slowly, his human form stabilized and his body temperature was so cold you could see his breath. You gave him a hug when his ice hand had fully reverted back to his human one. The boy clung to you for dear life, and you felt horrible for him.

“Bobby, don’t forget what you learned here, and keep in touch. When you need any of us, we’ll be there.” You said softly, pulling out a small coin and a business card. Bobby took it, confused.

“Whenever you don’t feel safe, call the number and the place they tell you to meet, then show them the token. Emergencies only.”

You walked Bobby down to his parents and they left shortly thereafter.

Watching them go sucked all the air out of you, enough for you to lean on Logan. In public. The Professor was next to the two of you.

“You are one of our finest, Y/N.” He said.

“Maybe, but it wasn’t enough.” You countered. You didn’t feel like an educator. You felt like you were fighting a losing battle and not too many of your kids would make it out unscathed.

“Social services could get ‘em.” Logan suggested.

“They might bite if they see a white boy, but the second he goes full icicle, all bets are off.” You lamented the fact that there were very few people looking out for mutant children, and you weren’t going to put Bobby on anyone’s radar unnecessarily.

The Professor nodded, before heading off to deal with the fallout with the student body. It was never easy losing a student in such a way. You weren’t prepared to do that just yet, so the two of you went back to your room.

You stayed in Logan’s arms until dark. It was the first time you and him had a rational understanding about what each of you needed in the moment.

“When I head through the city, I’ll stop by and check on the kid on my way out.” Logan said. You side eyed him.

“Play nice.” You warned. Sometimes cases required a delicacy Logan didn’t have, but his willingness to do it was a new thing for him. Far be it from you to stop him from doing something good. He finally saw how important your job was and how much you cared for your students.

You planted a kiss on his lips. And his nose and his ear and neck, among other things.

“That means I’ve got you at least one more night. Better make it count.”

[post-nuclear-sweetheart]

Tranquille Moments In Chaos (1)

The start of several moments that fill in the gaps of developing a friendship, then relationship, with Hancock.

Hancock x reader/sole.

Find it on ao3 as well!

(1853 words)

“Come with me.”

You had begun to question your sanity before the words fully escaped your lips. You leaned against the wall of the State House in Hancock’s disorganized bedroom, attempting your best not to look like a complete mess inside.

You saw how his blackened, clouded eyes looked you up and down. It was casual, and it reminded you of how the “cool kids” - you deemed them - would look through your flimsy persona back in high school. His dry and malformed lips stretched into a grin, and you could see amusement play across his face.

Hancock let out a short, breathy chuckle, before reaching into his back pocket of his trousers for the crumpled pack of cigarettes. “So lemme get this straight,” he started as if you were merely having a casual conversation. He pulled out his lighter from his other pocket, leaving you hanging off his words, until he lit up the cigarette and took the first drag.

“This is your… what, second week? Roamin’ around the Commonwealth like a stray dog?” That amused look slowly turned into a scrutinizing smirk. “Fahrenheit told me all about how you turned on Bobby. Can’t even hold a gun without the recoil throwin’ your arms all over - and you wanna run with me?”

The heat of embarrassment crept up to your face. True, you still weren’t terribly handy with a gun, despite your ex-spouse having military experience, but you made plenty sure they kept that sort of violence outside the house, what with the arrival of your newborn. Oh, how you would come to regret that rule.

But if there was one thing you were good at, that you honed over your college years, was how to fake confidence. You steeled yourself and pushed off the wall, standing your not-so-tall stance against Hancock. Sure, your cheeks were still very red, but you fronted a coy smile and a raised brow.

“I dunno, Hancock. You said it yourself - you’re soft. I may have been out here for a few weeks, but you’ve been lounging around longer than I’ve been surviving. Are you sure you can run with me?”

You stared into his dark eyes, appearing so sure of yourself. You began to falter inside, however, when his playfully degrading look turned to one that was serious. He took another painfully slow drag, starring you down all the while, then blew a puff of smoke into your face. You suppressed your cough, but the tears from the stinging smoke escaped.

Hancock chuckled darkly. “I can admire a babe willing to stand up to the man. Alright, hot stuff. I’ll tag along and maybe give you a few pointers.” He winked at you then, deciding he was done with his half-burnt cigarette, tossed it down and squished it out with the heel of his boot.

“First I gotta address the people; give ‘em a big mayoral speech. Don’t wait up.” He pressed the tip of his tricorn hat down, as a way to physically show he was switching over to his “business side”, and disappeared through the white door next to the wall you had leaned next to.

You released a sigh. There was no way you could keep up that air of confidence for long, especially around the man who radiates pure confidence. Pair that up with his natural ability to remain cool and keep it all from going to his head, and you looked like a nervous teenager on the first day of work next to him.

You heard the guards that stood outside the door to his bedroom snicker. You didn’t blame them. There was one thing that made you feel a little better about devolving into a mental puddle around Hancock. Irma had told you all about how he used to be a major hit with the ladies, and sometimes the gentlemen, and it wasn’t unusual when a person or two would fall at his feet. Of course, this was all before he turned into a ghoul, and yet…

Something tells you his ghoulification only amplified his charm.

-

He made good on his promise, even if it was made in jest. In your days wandering with this alluring ghoul at your back, he had taught you how to properly hold your 10 mm gun, and when you felt ready for rifles, he taught you how hard to press the stock against your shoulder and how to safely handle them. Although seeming to be intimately familiar with most common place guns, he himself preferred the ol’ reliable shotgun.

You’ve also come to be acquainted with his way of life and his morals. He lived up to his self-proclaimed title of “freedom fighter” with his rebel-rousing, tough guy nature who kept an eye out for the little man. He tried telling you after he shanked Finn to death, but you didn’t quite believe it then. A mayor, fronting as a freedom fighter? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t until one dark day with a downpour to rival a waterfall that would change your mind.

After one particularly bad firefight, you both found shelter in a half-dilapidated, vacant home. You had a friend in this neighborhood many years ago, although he moved away to another town to attend high school.

You sat on a dust covered cushion near a fairly in-tact windowsill, watching languidly as the rain fell heavy. One leg was tucked under you, while you stretched the other so that Hancock could remove the bullet deeply embedded in your thigh. You didn’t feel much of his makeshift surgery, what with the drug concoction he fed you. You were more entranced by the rainfall, and how the droplets pattered on the crumbling road not far from the house. The only light you had to serve was the half burned candles from the last squatter at the residence; five waxy candles that illuminated a warm, flickering orange against the cold darkness of the rest of the house.

“Hancock?” You quietly called for him, never moving your stare from the outside world. He hummed in response.

“Did you-“ you paused yourself. Your drug-filled mind struggled to figure out how to word your question. “Were you… Did you grow up here, before the war?”

Although the pain was completely numbed, you did feel an intense pressure from his work. You felt that pressure stop momentarily, before starting again.

You heard Hancock let out a scoff. It didn’t sound rude, but baffled. “What makes you think I’m one of those pre-war ghouls?”

“You’re a ghoul.”

Hancock laughed quietly. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m in my thirties?”

“Thirties?” You lulled your head, rolling lazily on your shoulders to face Hancock. Your vision was blurred by the pain killers, but still you could see the deep ravines in his skin. His eyes appeared exceptionally black, and where his nose rotted off long ago appeared darker. At the sight of what would have frightened you 200 some years ago, you smiled. “You look amazing for your thirties.”

“You should’a seen me before.” He looked up to wink at you, before reaching for a roll of bandages he kept hidden away in his coat pocket. “Drugs are a hell of a… drug.”

“Drugs can make you a ghoul?”

“Not just any drugs. This stuff,” he blew air from between his recessed lips as his mind dove back into his memories. “they didn’t even have a name for this stuff. Picture it - a vial of this scary glowing liquid that promised to give you a high that was outta this world. And get this, there was only one more hit of it left. You know what I did, doll?”

There was something so charming, so endearing, about the way he spoke. It was old school, but his rumbling voice, no doubt caused by their decay via radiation, kept you enraptured. Your smile grew more silly and enamoured. “What did you do, Hancock?”

“I shot it up.” He began to wrap the bandages around your thigh. “Lemme tell you, there’s nothing else in this whole damn world that’ll make you see - no, feel - the things I did. Everything else pales in comparison.” He tied them off with a yank, and gave your leg a light pat before continuing his story. “‘Course, it came with a price. That price is this gorgeous mug you see before you.”

You giggled at his display of gesturing to himself and giving you an exaggerated smoulder. He shifted over to the cushion that was beside the one you sat on and took his place beside you. You came to an agreement to wait, guns ready, for the rain to pass before moving on. Hancock leaned his back against the wall from where he sat, and in your drugged-up haze, you slumped over against him.

“Good Neighbour didn’t mind a ghoul for a mayor?” You asked, unaware of how your line of questioning came across. Still, Hancock answered freely.

“I wasn’t a ghoul yet.”

“How did you become mayor?” You asked him, moving your head to look up at him.

Seeing no harm in telling you, Hancock regaled you in the bigotry of Diamond City, and the reign of terror Vic held over Good Neighbour. He told you, laughing through it as he explained how the red coat of John Hancock could speak to him, and with the courage of drugs and a take-no-bullshit attitude on his side, he and a group of fed up people stormed the town hall. He went into gruesome detail of gunning down Vic’s men, and how they tied a noose around Vic’s neck and hung him over the same balcony Hancock would give his speeches. It was then, with unanimous decision, that John Hancock became mayor of Good Neighbour. It stayed a safe haven for everyone Diamond City rejected, and the rest was history.

It was then, as you stared up at Hancock with a mixed look of disbelief and admiration, that you truly believed he was, and is, a freedom fighter.

“And you traded a life of gunning bad people down for office work?” You nudged him playfully.

“Hey, I can do both, can’t I? Good Neighbour’s full of good people. They can fend for themselves while their fearless mayor cuts his teeth on some raiders.”

You attempted to nod in agreement, but found your head heavy and comfortable against his shoulder. You let out a yawn, the last thing you remembered, before the haziness you felt finally took over your senses and dragged you to sleep.

Hancock glanced your way and lightly chuckled at your slumbering form. He gently moved your wrist in your lap to peek at the time on your Pip-Boy. It was getting well into the evening, but still it was early enough that raiders and gangsters didn’t roam quite yet.

He reached up to tip his hat down over his eyes and slouched against the wall. There was a long night ahead of you both, and if there ever was a time to nap, a dark rainy evening was certainly it.

“Sweet dreams, vault dweller.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unfinished Business ~ Part Two

WORD COUNT: 2.8K (This is the shortest chapter I believe in this series)

WARNINGS: Mentions of mafia, strong language, 

PAIRING: Bang Chan X Reader

DESCRIPTION: Part Two of nine of my new Bang Chan series. 

You’re taken hostage but one of Seoul’s leading mafia families Bang Chan but he doesn’t take you because he wants to fake a marriage or make you fall for him in 365 days no…He wants to use you for his own personal gain. To take over another family but when you try to escape things take a turn for the worst and you learn Chan isn’t one to be messed with.(Please I suck at describing stuff)

THEMES: Smut will be included in a later chapter (It will state which chapter) so this is a fic for a mature audience, Chan x Fem!Reader, Self insert

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT 

Light poured in through the bars of the basement window and you groaned groggily as you woke up, you opened your eyes squinting at the sudden sunlight you had no idea where you were but it wasn't home. You stared around the room trying to get used to the low light, you were about to move your leg when you felt something tug on your ankle. It was a tingle sensation running through your ankle as you tried to move it,  whatever it was attached to your ankle hurt to move and you felt a jolt of pain tear through your anklebone,

"Shit." You hissed eyes glancing down to your legs to see that around your ankle was a rusted silver chain, not just a chain but a huge silver and rusted chain attached to a brick wall with screws.

"What the fuck?" Using your hands you struggled against the chain trying to tug it away from the wall or from your ankle when you heard a deep chuckle come from the other side of the room and it made you jump.

"Hello!?" Your voice came out more panicked than you had intended but you stood your ground - or rather sat your ground. You couldn't move from the spot you were in and you still couldn't see anything inside of the room.

"You won't get out." The lights flicked on and you looked around, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness to see another one of the men from the bar. The bar. You were starting to remember what happened after you left work, images flashing back into your brain as you remembered Jisung showing up there and being shoved into the back of a car. Panic rushed through your body as you realised who they all worked for.

"What do you want with me? I don't have any money." You kept trying to struggle out of the chain but it was slammed down on the ground and you hissed as it sent pain through your ankle which was now throbbing in pain the moment it was flung down.

"We don't want money. I'm just here until Jisung comes to watch you. Your personal guard." The man leant back in his chair and smirked at you, he was staring at you trying to size you up as you tried to get away from him as fast as you could but it wasn't working. You couldn't go anywhere.

"Please tell me what you want.." You felt pathetic for begging to him like this but you wanted to know why you were there and how long they were going to keep you if it meant trying to play the weak victim than so be it.

"I don't want anything with you, but you may want to think about lying again. Lying gets you nowhere with Chan." He got up from the chair and walked over to you, bending down so he could come face to face with you looking you in the eyes.

"Chan doesn't like liars," He patted the top of your head as if you were nothing but a dog and smirked at you, popping some chewing gum in his mouth before getting up and moving away from you once again and going towards the staircase that lead up to a steel door where he slammed it shut and locked it tightly from the outside.

"Fuck." You whimpered as you were left down in the basement once again, you pulled at the chain trying to get out of it as much as possible. Wiggling the chains to try and loosen the screws on the wall but they looked fresh and you knew it was useless to even try harder than you were, it would only hurt more. You stared around the floor for anything to use on the lock but there was nothing, then you remembered your hair. You reached up and took a pin from it jamming it into the lock around your ankle and began to use it to pick the lock. It was no big deal, you used to pick locks on the other side of town all the time, trying to find somewhere to sleep whenever you ran away from home before your parents passed away but this lock was different. A simple pin from your hair wasn't going to crack it, the door opened and you panicked trying to get the pinout but it snapped instantly. You shifted so your ankle would be hidden from whoever it was coming down the staircase, you looked up to see the youngest one that had been with Chan the night before. His hair was a dark blue colour and he looked innocent, his name was Jeongin or at least that was what Jisung had called him at the table.

"You alright?" You were taken back, were you alright? What kind of question was that? You were chained up in someone's basement, you had no idea where you were or if you were even safe.

"You tell me, I'm chained up in some creeps basement with guys coming to check on me." You snapped back and he chuckled at you, coming down onto the floor and sliding you a sandwich on a plate.

"A peace offering," You stared down at the sandwich, your stomach sounded like a bear the way it was growling at you but you weren't about to take food from someone who had kidnapped you late at night and was currently holding you in a basement for their boss without someone giving you a reason why.

"Not hungry," You lied,

"What are you doing?" He asked nodding over at your ankle, you shifted again so he couldn't see but winced as the chain pulled to hard and cause more pain to spread through your leg.

"Can you please tell me what I'm doing here?" He sat down on the sofa where Changbin had been sat and you stared at him,

"Can you at least tell me your name? What does it matter if I'm clearly not getting out of here." He sighed looking down at you, he didn't want to do this and neither did the other boys but it was something they had to do. What Chan said went since he was their boss, he didn't care about anyone.

"Look...You ruined Chan's suit, it cost more than you could make in four months so I think he's going to make you pay for it." You shook your head,

"My father has money, how much do you-"

"We know you're not from this side of town and we know you don't have any family except for your cafe manager and your grandfather in that home." You froze in place. How did he know that? He stared down at you and bit on his lip. No-one knew about your grandfather except for Mrs Lu and the nursing home that he lived in,

"If I were you, I'd start being honest the moment Chan comes to see you, he hates liars." He whispered looking over at the door and then at the sandwich that was still on your plate. You weren't going to eat it in case he was trying to poison you or put you to sleep with some kind of drug inside of it.

"Suit yourself." He got up and walked to you, taking the sandwich and biting into it himself as he walked back up the staircase and left you down there alone.

"She thinks she's smart," Jeongin laughed dropping the plate down onto the kitchen table that you thought had been poisoned on something. He looked at Felix and Jisung who were both sitting there and having their own lunch wondering what had happened in the basement.

"What did she do?" Jeongin chuckled and swallowed the sandwich he'd been eating, he had made it for you. He thought it would make it easier for you to have a friend while you were there but you weren't going to be nice to anyone any time soon.

"She tried a bobby pin in the lock, obviously it didn't work but she's smart." They all stopped laughing when they heard Chan coming into the room everything falling into silence as soon as he came into any room,

"What's funny?" Chan looked at them all and Jisung stood up looking down at his plate and going to wash it up,

"She tried to get out, used a bobby pin but it snapped inside the lock," Chan laughed and looked over to the basement door that you were being kept in.

"I like her, she's a fighter." They all knew the real reason Chan was keeping you here and it was for the plan he had in store for you as soon as he got you to confess who you really were that was. The plan was to get you to confess that you worked for Namjoon, once he got that out of you he'd move onto drawing Namjoon out with you so he could kill him.

"Did she eat anything?" He only questioned because he could see the sandwich on the plate, Jeongin shook his head and Chan went over to the cupboard grabbing bits of food from the cupboard that he thought you would like.

"I'll make her eat."

The door creaked open and you squinted over at the entrance to see Chan, he was dressed in suit pants and a white shirt which was unbuttoned at the top, his tie draped around his neck and he had a smirk on his face as he came over to you.

"I brought you some food, eat it." It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order and he threw the food down by your feet. You swallowed the lump in your throat, you weren't afraid of him he just made you a little nervous to be around him since he was good looking there was no denying that. The way he held himself, as though he was better than you and that he was in control of everything around him made you on edge.

"I said eat it, you look sick." He kicked his feet up as he sat down on the sofa that was in the basement and then he rolled his sleeves up on the white shirt he was wearing exposing his veiny arms, he cleared his throat and waited for you to eat. Taking the packet of crisps you opened it up and took one of the crisps out and put it in your mouth staring at him with a condescending smile,

"Happy?" He licked his teeth and cocked his head to the side he liked that you were being cocky with him,

"Not until you finish the full packet." You stared down at the packet and pushed it away from you deciding you weren't going to do as he told you.

"Not hungry." You lied and he leant forward putting elbows on his knees and staring you down.

"Eat it before I ram them down your throat." You didn't flinch, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could intimidate you into being scared and follow his orders he wasn't in charge of you.

"Why am I here?"

"Eat the crisps and I'll give you answers."

"Give me answers and I'll eat the crisps." He laughed sarcastically at how you were acting with him, he liked that you didn't care what he thought and what others told you about him. He knelt down in front of you still laughing until he grabbed onto your chin and forced you to look at him.

"I could fucking kill you right now, you know that?" You stared into his eyes as he stared down into yours. On the outside, he was this cold-blooded killer but on the inside, he was a scared boy and you could tell all of that by one look. He looked down at your leg and then up to your face

"Struggle all you want but you won't get out of that chain." He smirked going back to the sofa and kicking his legs back up on the table.

"What do you want with me?" You barked at him and he rolled his eyes reaching down onto the table and pulling up a red file with your name on the front of it.

"I want to know who you work for, I want to know why you're lying about your life and I want to know who the fuck you are." He threw the file down in front of you and you pulled it open, inside were photos of you in both sides of town living your double life taken by police by the looks of it. Going to both jobs and changing on the bus, changing out of your gross cafe clothes into the nice clothes you wore for the other side of town.

"I work for Mrs Lu in a cafe on the bad side of town, I also work for you and I lie because my life is a fucking shit hole. Let me out of this fucking chain." You barked at him but he grabbed your face again and aimed you to stare down at the folder but he wasn't holding onto you tightly, it was just enough to direct you where he wanted you to look.

"Then why do I think you're lying to me, huh? Who lives a double life? People who have something to hide, someone who works for the mafia, people like you." You frowned at him and shook your head,

"Mafia people?"

"Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you." You stared at him with a blank expression.

"I'm not playing dumb, I don't know anybody involved with the mafia but I'm assuming you do, considering I'm chained up in your basement." He smirked as you spoke back to him like this it had been so long since someone had tried to hold a real conversation with him.

"You don't work for Namjoon?" You shook your head and he hummed moving away from you and looking down at your ankle. It was starting to bruise and though he would never admit it aloud he felt bad that it was hurting you so much.

"I can loosen it if you promise not to run." You looked at him and then down at your ankle, it was in far too much pain for you to run but the moment he took it off you you were going to sprint as fast as you could.

"Please." You whispered and he moved closer to you pulling out the rest of the broken bobby pin and taking out a key from his pocket. He turned the key inside the lock and once it was off you didnt hesitate, you ran for the door but your legs were like jelly and the moment your left ankle hit the floor you screamed out and fell onto the floor.

"Silly girl. You've been chained up for 24 hours, your legs aren't going to work properly and your ankle looks pretty badly bruised as well." He sucked his teeth moving close to you and staring down at it trying to see if he'd broken it or not,

"Probably just some soft tissue damage. You'll be okay in a couple of days but until then." He bent down and picked you up and carried you over to the floor again where you had been sat. He turned you around and switched the chain over to the next foot so he wouldn't cause more damage to your foot.

"The next time you try to escape, I'll kill you." He got up from the floor and pointed at the file and then to the food.

"That's for you. I'll come down tomorrow and see if you're feeling more co-operative to work with us, I'd think long and hard though baby." He patted the top of your head just like Changbin had earlier and walked towards the staircase once again, your body seemed to yearn for him to come back. Beg for you not to let him leave you in this basement alone but the door slammed shut and the room was only lit up from the small window above your head. Flicking open the folder in front of you, you looked through all of the information they had on you. They had everything, including family history that you didn't even know, your mother and father had been scratched from the files since they were dead but your grandmother's records were there, her bills to Namjoon all displayed for you to see. You didn't even know she'd been taking money from him, no one had told you anything and it wasn't like your grandfather ever remembered anything like that.

A/n: This one was super short and boring but the next chapters are longer I promise

Tagline: @kneel-begyourpardon @snowy-meowl @moonprincessdiviniation @taestannie @km-98 @hugs4chan @calling-dips-on-j-hope @ncitythoughts​ @peachyhan​

[kbuggg3]

Kian Lawley Imagine: “Jealous Much?”

IMAGINE: The fun beach day suddenly gets more interesting when Kian catches a guy flirting with you

Everyone in the 02l house was running around like crazy trying to get together all the stuff they'll need for their beach trip.

"(y/n), didn't you say you were grabbing the towels?"

"Got em! Kian, you got all the snacks?"

"Wait... What? I thought Corey was getting them?"

"Can someone get the sunscreen?"

"Ya. I got it!"

"Hey Seb, grab some waters and a few beers."

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE SNACKS!?"

After everyone got what they needed and loaded it into the two separate cars, they were finally off to the boating dock. (y/n) drove her jeep with Kian, her boyfriend, in the passenger seat and Harrison, JC, and Chelsea in the back seat. Corey drove the truck so he could attach the boat to the back. Sebastian was in the front seat next to him and Bobby, Anderson, Franny and Dom were squished together in the back.

After a few minutes of passing the AUX cord and jamming out they all finally arrived to the boating dock. When (y/n) parked her jeep, she rested her head on the steering wheel while everyone got out and got the stuff out of the trunk. "You okay, baby?" she heard a sweet voice say next to her ear.

Already knowing who it is, (y/n) put on a pouty face and looked up with her best puppy dog eyes. "I'm fine. It's just that we got up sooo earlyyyy." Kian frowned and grabbed her hand, rubbing his thumb over it softly.

"I'm sorry. Is there anyway I can help you wake up?"(y/n) smirked slightly and leaned close to his face. "You could kiss me," she shrugged, biting her lip. Kian's eyes flickered down to her lips and he leaned down and kissed her softly.

(y/n) wrapped her arms around Kian's neck, hoping for the kiss to last longer, but Kian almost immediately pulled away causing (y/n) to pout again. "Heyyyy! I wasn't done." Kian chuckled at her reaction and replied. "Well as much as I enjoy doing that, I kinda had another idea in mind."

The moment (y/n) saw the smirk on his face and the evil look in his eyes, she knew he was up to no good. Before she could protest, Kian pulled her out of the jeep and threw her over his shoulder. "Kian! Put me down!" she laughed while lightly hitting his back.

"Not until you wake up."

"What are you even-" (y/n) paused mid sentence when she realized what he was going to do. "Kian, I swear to god if you throw me in the water I'm breaking up with you!" she joked. Kian just smiled even wider, knowing his plan was working, and walked into the water until he was knee deep.

He slid (y/n) down until she was eye level with him, her arms around his neck and her legs now wrapped tightly around his waist as she tried to avoid getting wet at all costs. "Alright baby! You ready?" he asked placing his hands on her ass to keep her from sliding down. "No, Kian!"

"1..."

"I swear if you actually-"

"2..."

"KIAN!"

"3!"

He pretended to swing her forward, acting as if he was going to throw her in but he never actually let go. Instead he laughed until his stomach hurt, earning a punch in the arm from his girlfriend. "I hate you," she said unwrapping her arms from his neck so she can cross them in front of her.

"Well I LoOoOoVe you!" Kian kissed her on the nose causing her to smile and unwrap her legs so she could stand on her own. "Hey, lovebirds, the boats ready to go!" Kian grabbed (y/n)'s hand and they walked to the dock that the boat was parked at.

After helping (y/n) in, he hopped in the boat and sat in the passenger side beside JC, who was going to be driving, and (y/n) went to the front of the boat with Seb, Anderson, Harrison, and Bobby. Franny, Chelsea, Corey, and Dom sat in the back of the boat next to the cooler of snacks and beers "in case they disappear", as they liked to put it.

                                                                            ~~~~

They rode around on the boat and went tubing for a little bit before eventually arriving at the island. They swam in the water, drank, hooked (y/n)'s phone up to the speaker to play music, took pictures for Instagram, and tanned. They stayed at the island for hours on end having a good time and acting like the rowdy teenagers that they were.

After awhile they began to grow hungry, seeing as all their snacks were gone. "I'm starving. Let's go get food," JC said looking over at his friends from under his umbrella.

"I agree. Do you guys remember the Sunset Grill? With the shrimp?"

"Oh my god! The shrimp!"

"We should go there."

"I'm down."

After taking a majority vote, they all packed up their towels, chairs, and umbrellas and got onto the boat. They got into their original seats and Bobby connected (y/n)'s phone to the built in speakers onto the boat. When they arrived at the restaurant they quickly put on some clothes over their bathing suits and were met by a tall, tan boy around their age who greeted them with a pearly white smile.

"Hey guys! My name is Caleb and I will be your waiter for today." Caleb helped tie the boat to the dock and waited patiently as everyone got out. (y/n) was the last one left, but paused as she noticed the boat, although tied to the dock, was getting too far away for her to reach.

"Hey, um, Kian? Can I get some help?" she laughed awkwardly. Kian was too busy talking to JC, Harrison, and Anderson and couldn't here her calling his name. Fortunate for her, Caleb heard the girls plea for help and was quick to be approach her.

He looked at her with his bright blue eyes and brushed the blonde hair out of his face. "Need a hand?" he asked extending his hand out to her. (y/n) gratefully took it with a smile and he helped her step out of the boat and onto the dock safely.

"I'm Caleb," he smiled warmly at her. "(y/n)." Caleb nodded his head before turning to the rest of the group.

"How many in your party?"

"11."

"Awesome! Right this way."

Caleb grabbed some menus and glanced at (y/n) quickly before walking off to show them their table. This act surely did not go unnoticed by Kian.  As they were walking, Kian made his way over to (y/n) putting a protective arm over her shoulders.

They sat down, ordered their drinks, and talked for a little while until Caleb came back asking what they wanted to eat. "I'll just have a cheeseburger," (y/n) stated closing her menu and handing it to the naturally tan boy. "That's my favorite," he smiled as he wrote down her order along with everybody else's.

Kian's eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened slightly. He looked at JC to see his eyes wide and his lips in a small smile as he tried not to laugh at Kian's reaction. "I'll be sure to have your food out ASAP!"

Caleb looked at (y/n) one last time and with a nod of his head, he left. Kian leaned over to the table and whisper shouted at JC.

"What the hell was that? Did you see that?"

"What?"

"You know what!"

JC awkwardly shifted his eye contact from Kian, to (y/n), then back to Kian again. Kian just sighed and rolled his eyes."oH My gOd i LoVe cHeEsBuRgErS! We'Re, LiKe, ToTaLlY iN LoVe!" J

C attempted to stifle a laugh as Kian mocked their waiter in a high pitched voice.

"Dude, he's probably just being friendly. It's kind of his job."

"No. It is not his job! His job is to take our orders and bring us food. His job is NOT to flirt with MY girlfriend!"

Every time he would go to their table to check up on them, he would have a nice conversation with the table and even crack some jokes. Everyone thought he was a pretty cool guy. Everyone except Kian, of course.

Eventually their stomachs were full and it was time to leave. JC, Bobby, and Harrison stayed at the table to wait for their card to be brought back after paying and everyone else went over to the dock next to their boat. When everyone was listening to Dom tell some story about a time he got super drunk, Kian saw Caleb watching and slipped his hand in the back pocket of (y/n)'s jean shorts.

(y/n) bit her lip to hold back a smile and scooted closer to Kian. "What was that for?" Kian furrowed his eyebrows and looked at her. "What do you mean? I can't love my girlfriend?" (y/n) just shrugged with a knowing smile on her face and went back to listening to Dom's story.

Kian looked over towards the restaurant and once again saw Caleb staring. He clenched his jaw and looked away. He had to do something about this. He couldn't just let this random guy drool over his girlfriend!

Kian took his hand out of her pocket, grabbed her arm lightly, and turned (y/n) around to where she was facing him. (y/n) looked up at him with a smirk. "What is it this time?"Kian pulled on her shirt, bringer her closer to him, making the distance between them small.

He leaned down towards her ear and spoke quietly, "Caleb hasn't stopped staring at you since we came here on that damn boat and quiet frankly I'm not a fan of it." (y/n) giggled slightly at the boy. When she looked over towards the restaurant, she indeed saw their waiter staring at her. When they made eye contact he awkwardly smiled and pretended to be sorting menus.

"So if you could kiss me that would be great." They pulled away only slightly and (y/n) smiled.

"You're crazy."

"Crazy about you," Kian winked. (y/n) rolled her eyes at his cheesy comment and the two leaned in, sharing a long kiss. The others in the group stared for a little bit, but then remembered that randomly making out was kinda normal for them, so they went back to what they were doing.

After a few minutes of hanging out in the dock, JC, Bobby, and Harrison received their credit card and loaded everybody back onto the boat. (y/n) got into the boat and tried to make her way to the front with Sebastian, Anderson, Harrison and Bobby. Kian was quick to stop her by hooking a finger on the back of her bathing suit bottoms saying "C'mere baby" as he pulled her back towards him.

She giggled while walking back towards him and watched as Kians hands made their way to tightly grip her waist. He guided her hips as she sat down on his lap and wrapped his arms loosely around her torso, putting his head in the crook of her neck. "Yes?" She questioned.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see you." Kian smiled at his own comment just as JC slipped out his phone, taking a perfect picture of the couple and connecting his phone to Bluetooth. "How bout a little B Marley, huh?" Although not opposed to the idea, (y/n) rolled her eyes at the nickname.

After a minute of searching through Spotify, JC finally found the song he wanted. (y/n) waited and listened for the song and instantly smiled when "Is This Love?" By Bob Marley began to play loudly.

I want to love you, and treat you right. I want to love you, everyday and every night

(y/n) took a deep breath in, smelling the salty air and feeling the wind on her face as the boat glided quickly over the waves.

We'll be together, with a roof right over our heads

Kian held (y/n)'s hand that was resting in her lap and rubbed his thumb up and down soothingly.

We'll share the shelter, of my single bed. We'll share the same room

Everyone stares at the beautiful view in front of them in awe, the sky acting as a canvas with pink and orange colors lighting up the sky.

Is this love? Is this love? Is this love? Is this love that I'm feeling?

Is this love? Is this love? Is this love? Is this love that I'm feeling?

(y/n) heard Kian singing along to the words and she bit her lip to try and hold back a smile. She always loved hearing him sing. Even if it was just singing along to the radio in the funniest voice possible just to make her laugh. She, along with many many others, thought his voice was amazing, but Kian usually only let her hear it.

(y/n) closed her eyes and laid her head back onto his shoulder making Kian look at her. He knew why she was smiling. (y/n) tells him all the time how much she loves his voice, especially when he sings. Because of that, Kian leaned his forehead on her temple as sang softly in her ear so she could hear him better.

As he sang she smiled even more and cuddled into him. When they made eye contact, Kian's eyes would flicker down to (y/n)'s lips as she ran her fingers through his hair.Kian leaned in, capturing his lips into hers as they shared a passionate kiss. "I love you," Kian whispered as they pulled apart. "I love you too."

"Can we just talk about the fact that Kian was soooo jealous when that little waiter kept flirting with (y/n)?" JC said making everyone laugh.

"Oh my God, Kian. You looked sooooo mad!" Franny laughed, almost falling out of her seat with Bobby making another comment.

"He still looks angry!" Kian glared at Bobby and yelled jokingly, "I'm not fucking angry!" Everyone just laughed even harder and (y/n) laid her head on Kian's chest, making him look at her and calm down. "It's ok babyyyy," (y/n) cooed trying to hold back her giggles, making Kian kiss her face all over. "Do you think I'm jealous?" (y/n) looked at his pouting face and giggled. She grabbed his cheeks and gave a him a long kiss on the lips. When she pulled away to where there noses were touching, she whispered,

"Totally."

I freaking LOVE Kian and JC so if you don't watch them you 100% should. They’re legit so funny. Anywho, hope you liked it.

                                                            -Kbug

[mystic-writings]

without you | luke patterson

PAIRING — luke patterson x fem!reader

SUMMARY — glimpses into your life after the death of your boyfriend, luke patterson

WARNINGS — angst, mentions of death, pregnancy, funerals, some fluff

WORD COUNT — 3,296

NOTE — my first official post on the new account! sorry i made it a sad one y’all. feel free to yell at me later though

masterlist | navigation

July 1995

You cheered on the band as they practiced before their gig. After months of hard work, they were finally playing the Orpheum, and you couldn’t be more proud of their success. You knew that from here, they could only go up. You laughed as the boys bounced around the stage, happy to perform on it even if, for now, it was just warmups to make sure everything was just fine.

They were playing one of your favourites, at your request, and they would also be playing it later on tonight, along with a few other songs. When they finished, you and the girl who worked at the Orpheum cheered for the boys, following them with your eyes as they walked over.

Luke instinctively leaned in to kiss you, but you backed away. “Ew, you’re sweaty. I don’t wanna kiss you when you’re sweaty.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before, has it?”

Alex made a disgusted face at Luke’s words. “Could you keep that to yourselves, please? I don’t want to hear that kind of stuff.”

Laughing, you pushed the conversation Bobby and Reggie were having with Rose as you kept your eyes on Luke, the only emotion in them being love. “Wanna come with me and the boys? Well, aside from Bobby- we’re gonna go across the street and get hot dogs.”

You would’ve smiled at Luke’s grin, but the sound of hot dogs made your stomach churn and you grimaced. “No, I’ll pass on the hot dogs for now. I think I’m catching something. And besides, I don’t think eating hot dogs from that guy is a good idea. Even people have the sense not to eat hot dogs with condiments that are inside the hood of a car.”

“Come on, they’re not that bad.” Reggie chimed in quickly. “They haven’t killed us yet, have they?”

You scoffed playfully and turned back to your boyfriend. “I’ll be backstage waiting for the show to start, and then I’ll be in the front row, cheering you on. Okay?”

“Sounds perfect.” Luke planted a kiss to your lips and squeezed your hand once, shooting you a smile that never failed to make your knees weak before walking out of the building with Reggie and Alex, while you went backstage.

You didn’t have to wait for long when a loud siren caught your attention from backstage. Curious, you exited the building, watching as the red and blue lights flashed alarmingly, blinding you. They came from the other side of the street, where three ambulances were parked and a small crowd had gathered.

Feeling your heart crack in worry, you sped over to the other side of the street, worried and panicked. Breaking through the crowd, you spotted Luke’s backpack on the sofa that was pressed against a building, but no Luke. Your eyes scanned frantically for him and his friends, but the only one you saw was a teary eyed Bobby, eyes glued to a gurney.

Rushing up to him, you let your fears take over your senses, flooding your eyes with tears and causing your hands to shake. You couldn’t contain the scream-like sob that tore from your lips when you got a glimpse of Luke just before the paramedics pulled the white sheet over his head. He was so still, so pale. That wasn’t your Luke. Your Luke was smiling, energetic, full of life. He wasn’t dead.

You felt your knees give way and hit the pavement, your hands flying up to your mouth as you watched the boys get loaded into the ambulance’s, no life left in them. It felt like all the air around you was gone, your sobs making it hard to breathe. Your face was sticky with tears as someone picked you up by the waist and helped you into their car, taking you to your house and giving you to your parents.

They questioned you about what had happened, and you could barely even get the words out. Your mother held you in her arms as you grieved, and she grieved with you. She loved Luke like a son; she had lost someone, too. You cried yourself to sleep that night, and many nights after that.

August 1995

You were surprised you were still alive with how little you were eating. Between the grief and the constant nausea, you didn’t get many meals into your day. In the past week, you and Bobby had gone to Reggie and Alex’s funeral, being consoled by people you didn’t even know. There weren’t enough tissues to wipe away the tears you cried for the boys you loved like brothers.

Today was Luke’s funeral. There was something in you that didn’t want you to go, to see him so still, the way you saw him two weeks ago when he was being put in the ambulance. But you knew you would never forget yourself if you didn’t go. So, you got up and put on the same black dress you wore to the boys’ funerals, and got in your parent’s car.

His funeral was the worst. Seeing him in the casket, so calm and peaceful, almost broke you. It got worse when you saw his parents. You knew he had been meaning to apologise to them, because you had part in convincing him. He was going to tell them when the band started getting popular, and you were sure that was supposed to be soon after that night.

When you locked eyes with Emily, you both started to cry all over again. Without an ounce of hesitation, you made your way to her and she wrapped her arms around you, almost sending you deeper into the hole you were in. When you could, you whispered, “He loved you.”

She sobbed at your words, but you knew she needed to hear them. “He loved you, too.” Was her response.

Emily and Mitch stuck by you for the wake and the funeral. They knew you needed the comfort and you knew they needed it, too. That dreary, cloudy day, you buried the love of your life, and your heart went with him.

September 1995

Sighing heavily, you pulled your coat tighter to your body and stepped out of your car. The cemetery was empty, like it usually was when you visited. You made your way to the three gravestones that were lined up right next to each other, carrying small bouquets of flowers for each one.

Blue lilies for Alex, yellow tulips for Reggie, and white roses for Luke.

You placed the flowers on their graves gently, as if you would disturb them by doing so. When you got to Luke’s grave, a shaking sob slipped past your lips as you read the words on his tombstone. They forgot a few words.

“Hey, Luke.” You sniffled. “A lot’s happened this week. Uh, Bobby hasn’t been talking to me lately, and I don’t know how to reach him anymore. My mom was close to kicking me out of the house yesterday, and my dad was the one to actually do it. Your parents were kind enough to let me stay with them. They miss you, you know.”

A humourless chuckle erupted from your chest as you wiped a tear from your cheek. “They messed up your tombstone, by the way. It says ‘loving son’ but you’re not just a son anymore. It should say ‘loving son and father.’” A shaking breath left your body and you had to clench your fists to stop them from shaking, too. “I’m pregnant, Luke. I found out last week. You’re gonna be a dad.”

When you received no response, you chuckled and turned to Reggie and Alex’s tombstones. “And you guys are gonna be uncles. I’m hoping it’s a boy; maybe he’ll look just like you. But I don’t really mind. Because in about 6 months I’m gonna be a mom, and I’ll have someone to take care of. Someone I can raise and tell stories about you to. I’ve already thought of names. Lucas Alexander for a boy, and Maria Faith if it’s a girl. You told me you always liked the name Faith.”

You looked up at the sky once, trying to keep your tears in as you let your hand rest on your belly, where a bump was beginning to form. “They’re gonna love you, Luke. I know they are. And I know you’re not here physically… but I know you’ll always be there, one way or another. You wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

March 1997

You looked at your son with tears in your eyes and a smile on your face. Today was Lucas’s first birthday, and like every other milestone, you couldn’t help but be emotional that his father wasn’t there to see it all. But you felt like he was. Whether you knew it or not, something told you he was.

Lucas babbled on the playmat, chewing on plushies before tossing them around. Mitch, who seemed to be determined to spoil the young boy since the day he was born, was keeping Lucas entertained as Emily prepared to get everything ready. You invited your close friends, some other mothers from Lucas’ daycare, and your parents to celebrate your son’s birthday. Of course, your parents had kicked you out when they told you that you were pregnant and haven’t talked to you since, so you didn’t expect them to come.

As you predicted, they didn’t come. Everyone else did, but your parents didn’t.

The entire time, you were sure you didn’t let Lucas out of your arms. Despite being rational and knowing he was okay, there was always a voice in the back of your mind to counter your rationality and fill you with worry and doubt. You only ever handed him to either Emily or your best friend, Alicia, and that was only when you needed to make sure everything was ready for when Lucas would blow out the candles.

Mitch, of course, spent most of his time with the camera recorder perched on his shoulder, making sure to capture as many moments as he could. You smiled and pulled a goofy face whenever the attention was on you, and more than once did you hold up Lucas’s hand and wave it at the camera.

You barely busied your thoughts with Luke, too busy trying to keep yourself sane while you raised your son. Of course, there were some days where it got to be too much and he was all you could think about, but when those days came, you would just hold Lucas and whisper stories about his father to him. There was no doubt in your mind that Lucas would turn out to be just like Luke. He was already too energetic for his own good, and whenever you played music he wouldn’t stop giggling and bouncing around.

Lucas was what brought you back to your old self, although more mature than you used to be, for his sake. He was what grounded you, he was what allowed you to grieve without becoming self-destructive. Everything you were, you owed to Lucas.

September 2001

You’ve been crying since you woke up this morning. Today was Lucas’ first day of school. He was five, now, and although you knew it was going to happen, you never thought the day would actually come. You were used to coming home from work to see him on the couch with Emily or Mitch, watching the tv with as much excitement as a toddler could muster, which was lots.

Now, here you were, asking Lucas to stand outside the front door in his first day outfit (that he proudly picked out himself). Tears slowly leaked from your eyes, but the smile never left your face at how happy your son seemed to be to go to school and make new friends. He stood proudly for the camera and you took a few photos before handing the camera to Alicia, who never dared to miss any of Lucas’s special occasions.

“Mommy, why are you crying?” Lucas asked, and you hadn’t realised that he moved from the steps in front of Emily and Mitch’s front door to stand in front of you. With a little bit of struggle, you picked him up.

“Mommy’s just thinking about how happy your dad would be to see you all dressed up and ready for your first day of school.” You plastered a smile on your face and Lucas nodded, giving you a kiss on the cheek, melting your heart.

“But mommy, remember when you told me that my daddy was always with me?” You nodded at the boy. “Well then he’s with you all the time, too. Just like he is with me.”

More tears welled in your eyes and you smiled a watery smile, pressing a kiss to your son’s forehead before putting him back on the ground. “Say goodbye to auntie Alicia before we’re late for school, sweetie.”

April 2009

You swore your heart could’ve broken when you got home from work. Lucas was in his room, and you could faintly hear broken and off-key chords floating from his door. It reminded you that Luke and his passion for music was still alive, passed down to his son. Slowly, you put your purse and keys on the table in the entryway and made your way upstairs.

Lucas, now 13, jumped when you knocked on his open door, looking up from his guitar to find you standing there. “I-I can stop, if you want me to. I know how music makes you feel.”

“It’s okay, Lucas.” You laughed, coming to sit beside him on the bed.

“I just wanted to feel a little bit closer to him, you know? But I can’t get the chords right.”

“That’s okay, you’re still new at it. It took your dad ages to get a melody right, you know.” You told your son.

“Really?” He looked up at you with wide eyes and you laughed.

“Really. And once you get over that hurdle, everything else gets easier as you go.” You wrapped your arm around the boy. “But I know that no matter what, your dad would be there to help you out. He would’ve been so happy from the moment you picked up the guitar.”

Lucas smiled and looked down at the guitar. “Do you think I could get guitar lessons?”

You pretended to think before letting go of Lucas. “Yeah, I think I can arrange that.”

“Thanks.” The room went silent for a beat as you looked around the posters plastered all over Lucas’s blue walls, the stack of CDs that held a plethora of bands, including the demo CD for Sunset Curve. “I just want to make him proud, you know?”

“I know, sweetie.” You kissed the top of his head. “But I just know that he already is. No matter what. Okay?”

“Okay.”

November 2020

“Grandma? Grandpa? Who’s there?” A deep voice resonated from the kitchen, startling both Julie and Luke. All four heads turned to the kitchen entrance, where a tall, lanky man was standing in the doorway. “Who’s she?”

“Lucas, don’t be rude!” You said, following behind your son. You grew up, but the man was taller than you by a few inches. Tears flooded Luke’s eyes as you scolded the boy with a smile on your face. Your hair was still long and beautiful, though now there were a few grey hairs tucked into the h/c locks. Your eyes still had that hopeful shine to them, and your skin was devoid of blemishes, save for a few laugh lines. You looked good.

Luke turned to look at the man. He looked a lot like him. He had the same hair and lean figure, similar smile’s and voices. But the eyes were yours. Luke felt his heart turn to dust as he looked at the near carbon copy of him standing in the doorway and muttering an apology to his mother. Mother. With a sob, he nearly fell to the floor.

“What’s your name, dear?”

She sent a tight smile to you as you came to Emily’s side. “My name’s Julie. I was just dropping off that.”

You looked over Emily’s shoulder and your smile faltered when you noticed the messy scrawl of Luke’s handwriting. The song he wrote for his mother laid out in front of you, and you could faintly recall the melody and tune when he played it with the band in the studio.

“I’m Y/n.” You said before pointing to the figure hovering in the doorway of the kitchen. “That’s my son, Lucas. Lucas, come say hi.”

The boy - who was more of a man, really, since he was almost 25 - pushed off the door frame and made his way to Julie, sticking his hand out for her to shake. “Good to meet you, Julie. You can call me Luke.”

She seemed stuck in place, staring at your son as if she’d seen a ghost. When she snapped herself out of it, she shook his hand and said, “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Have I- have I seen you somewhere? I swear I know you.” Julie asked Lucas, genuinely curious about the familiarity of his face. It wasn’t just the similarities between him and Luke that she noticed; there was something else familiar about him that she couldn’t quite place.

“Maybe. I’m the lead guitarist for my band, Dawn of Men. We’re getting a little up there with our fanbase,” Luke tensed at the man’s words. Lucas was in a band, just like he was. He moved over to you, the tears that had been building up in his eyes now spilling over as he tried to reach you.

You felt shivers go up your spine, as if someone was right next to you, but there was no one there. You dismissed it as the cold, but you couldn’t fool yourself. Unbeknownst to you, Luke was trying and failing to get your attention, crying as he frantically screamed your name and tried to put his hand on your shoulder, only to have it pass right through you. There was something about your son, something that deep down, he knew, but he didn’t have the confirmation he needed from you. That was his son. No one could tell him otherwise, they just had to look at the two of them side-by-side and they would know.

He knew he should’ve listened to you that night. Then maybe he would’ve been there for you, helped you through it all and gotten to raise and know who his son was. All he had now was his friends and his regrets, and that wasn’t enough to help him cope with all that he lost. Julie continued making small talk with you and your son, while Luke wandered the halls of his old home.

Pictures scattered the hallways, ones of you and Lucas as he grew up peppered in with childhood pictures of Luke, and sometimes, it was as if the pictures of you and Lucas were taken in Luke’s childhood, he and his son looked so alike. Birthday pictures, graduation photos, photos of picnics in the park nearby.

He watched his son grow up in photos, and that was all he would ever get. He would never be able to touch you again, talk to you, say hi to his own son. Luke would never get the family he wanted, and it killed him all over again. He just wanted to see you, know you, be with you. But you couldn’t see him.

You had gone on living without him, and as much as he hated that he wasn’t there, he knew that there wasn’t anything he could do.

Forever taglist: @simonsbluee @probably-peeves @sarcasticallywitty15

Luke Patterson taglist: @starjane312 @juliefromaustralia @the-romanian-is-bae @hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis

taglist form is in my navigation!

[lilyeholland]

Before It’s Too Late [Part 2]

[Reggie Peters x Reader] PART ONE - PART TWO

Summary: Y/N and Reggie have never officially stated what they were to each other, so Y/N plans to tell the brunette bassist how she really feels before him and his band are to take stage at the Orpheum. Little did they know this would be there last encounter. *only a little bit inspired by Stranger by Jeremy Shada*

Warnings: super fluffy at first and then BAM the angst hits you like a truck :) it’s also lowkey kinda long lol, mentions of death

Word Count: 10k I’M SO SORRY IT REALLY GOT AWAY FROM ME IT’S WORTH THE READ THOUGH I PROMISE

The night before, you had stayed up writing and rewriting your confession letter to Reggie - the one you were going to give him before he performed. There were countless amounts of crumpled papers on your floor all because you insisted on writing it in pen and making every individual letter look perfect. Finally, once you were satisfied with the way the ink stained the thin sheets of paper, you sealed it in a blush pink envelope, sprayed your perfume on it, and wrote Reggie’s name in big bubbly cursive letters, you set it on the corner of desk and anticipated its arrival in Reggie’s hands. 

You knew better than to go to Reggie’s house in hopes to find him and talk to him - he was rarely ever there. Instead, he’d be at the garage studio regardless of if the boys were there with him.

You lean against the big white doors of the studio, admiring the way Reggie is laying on his back staring at the ceiling and riffing away at his unplugged bass. “Knock, knock,” you say, startling the innocent boy in front of you to his feet.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” You both take steps closer to each other. Reggie sinks his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do with him, but wanting to reach out to you and smother you in a hug. 

“Yeah, I just wanted to come by and ask if it was alright if I came by before the show to wish you luck. Since, you know, I can’t watch you guys play.” You offer him a solemn smile, but he just grins widely at you.

“You can totally come by,” he bites his lip and hides his smile. “We’ll be done with our sound check around 5 and you can come by then?” He questions, just to make sure it works with you.

You nod your head and smile back at him.

“You can meet us by the backstage doors - it’s in this really creepy-looking alleyway, but I promise its safe.” Again with the cute faces that make you want to throw away the whole plan and tell him you want to be his official girlfriend right now. “No one’s died there yet... That I know of.”

“If I get murdered there, I’m blaming you,” you tease, earning a longing look hidden behind a breathy laugh from Reggie. 

“You won’t,” he sings as he pulls you in for a tight hug. “I won’t let that happen to you.” As his arms envelope themselves around you, yours do the same to his torso. 

“Promise?” you test him, looking up but never untangling yourself from his embrace. 

“Promise.” He nods his head once, his smile beginning to form a magnet-like attraction to yours. He leans down slightly as he slides his hand up your body to cup your cheek. Your lips barely graze one another’s before - 

“Oh, sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” Luke says with wide eyes as him, Alex, and Bobby walk in. The three of them chuckle to each other, knowing full-well what they almost just witnessed. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say as you dust off any remaining Reggie on your body. “I was just leaving anyway.”

“Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he winks cheekily and waves you off.

All that and he still can’t call himself your boyfriend? Well, you usually have to kiss your boyfriend, so it makes sense. 

It’s not like you and Reggie had never kissed before - twice actually - but neither of them count as a real kiss in your eyes. The first one was just an embarrassing moment from a few months ago where you had leaned in to kiss his cheek but he turned his head too quick and accidentally landed his lips right on top of yours. It lasted .02 seconds and you were both really flustered afterward. The second one was just a consequence of playing spin the bottle. 

It was frustrating that both times you had almost really kissed had been interrupted so abruptly. You hoped and prayed that you would finally be able to kiss him tomorrow before the show. 

The day finally was here and you had prepped your lips with a special raspberry shiny gloss beforehand, in hopes Reggie’s focus would be on your lips and he’d be more tempted to make the first move. 

You take one last look in the mirror, fixing the smudges of lip gloss around your mouth and then spraying one last spritz of your perfume on the letter addressed to Reginald Peters, himself. 

You had not expected him to already be in the creepy alleyway with 2/3 others in Sunset Curve - but he was - joking and laughing away with them. He couldn’t have noticed you any faster than he did, saying something to the band quickly and then jogging over to you so you didn’t have to walk so far. Also so you had more privacy. 

The first thing he does is bring you into a hot, sticky hug. Surprisingly, it doesn’t smell bad. 

“Ooh, sweaty,” you comment jokingly.

“Haha, yeah, sorry about that. I might’ve gone a little too hard during Now or Never,” he shakes himself out of the hug and smiles at you before noticing the envelope with his name on it. “What’s this?” His eyes widen as he rubs his hands together like a little kid waiting to open presents on Christmas morning.

“Oh!” You suddenly become extremely embarrassed of what you wrote on those pages, now nervous for him to open it and read it. “Just some letter I wrote you,” he had already taken it upon himself to take it and open it up, only increasing the anxiety-nausea in your stomach. His eyes begin skimming the top lines, a grin forming at his lips. 

“You know, it’ll probably take you a while to read it so how about I just sum up what it says for you,” you pull the letter away from his face, beginning to panic. “Basically, um,” you giggle nervously and glance up at him from under your eyelashes. He’s giving you the puppy look again. “I like you Reggie. A lot. And I don’t really know what we’re doing each other, but I just wanted to tell you how I really feel about you before you play the Orpheum and get super famous and inevitably forget about me, so here it goes,” you finally take a deep breath after getting all that out. 

Reggie grabs your hand in his, too nervous to interrupt or add anything to what you just blurted. 

“I think I love you, Reggie.” He clocks his head in your direction, not in a shocked way, more in an interested way, opening his mouth to say something back. “But before you say anything, I don’t wanna rush you cause I know we’re still so young and we’ve got our whole lives ahead of us. I just - I wanna be your girlfriend.” You finish by squeezing his hand that’s still intertwined with yours and sucking your bottom lip into your mouth.

“Is that really what the letter said?” He asks.

“I may have added some stuff,” you whisper, almost ashamed of the guts you had just spilled to him. 

He rolls his eyes slightly in a joking manner, pulling you closer by the hand and mumbling, “come here,” before he firmly plants his lips on yours. FINALLY. You’re shocked at first, but instinctively kiss him back without second thoughts. In a familiar motion, he drags his hand from your hip to your hair while you place both of your hands on either side of his waist.

“Does this mean I’m your boyfriend now?” He teases as he pulls apart just enough to see your face. 

“Mm-hm,” you nod your head and grin at him.

He leans in for another kiss, this time getting closer by wrapping his arms behind your neck. It’s deeper and more passionate than the first one, both of you moving your mouths in sync like it was choregraphed. 

“Reggie!!!” the two other musicians shout from down the alleyway. 

He tries to pull away, but his lips linger on yours for a few seconds longer. 

“You better hurry if we wanna eat before the show!” Alex cups his hands around his mouth to make his voice louder. 

Reggie looks at you and groans still with a little smile on his face. “I’ll see you after the show, okay?”

He kisses you again, short and sweet, and again, and again, having a hard time being able to separate himself from you. As he’s walking away, reaches out his hand so the last thing to touch is your fingertips. 

“Good luck, boyfriend!” You shout to him as a joke as he starts making his way to Alex and Luke. 

“Thanks, girlfriend!” He jokes back and blows you a kiss from the distance. 

This moment would soon be the moment you replayed over and over in your head, thinking that reliving it would somehow make it so it never ended and Reggie never left. 

You went the whole night thinking everything was alright, excitedly waiting for the band to get back to the studio for the after party they had planned there. Only, you had waited too long and started to get in your head about things. Did Reggie only act like that with you to get some pre-show lovin’ to hype him up before he performed? Maybe the band got invited to a bigger, fancier afterparty by the featured band they were opening for.

You must’ve fallen asleep on the couch waiting for them. You woke up to the noise of Bobby turning on the lights and finding you cuddled up with one of the flannels Reggie had left behind.

His face was blotchy, eyes red and puffy, and the tip of his nose was shiny. 

“Bobby, what’s wrong?” you stood up and walked towards him.

He couldn’t even respond, he just shook his head and began to cry again. 

“Where are the other three? Where’s Reggie?” The worst thoughts started to drown you, but you countered it by telling yourself you were just being irrational, they were probably fine, they probably just had a band fight. 

“They were there before-” he sobs, “-and then there were sirens- and- and-” he’s unable to finish.

“Bobby,” you say in a panicked voice. “What happened? Where are they? Where’s Reggie?” your voice is shaky and cracked now that tears have built a wall on the surface of your eyes. 

“They’re gone.” He barely chokes those two words. 

You feel yourself take steps backward, losing control over your breathing while stumbling back onto the coffee table behind you. “No, no, no,” you deny. “You have to be lying,” the egg in your throat makes it near impossible to say. 

Bobby says nothing, instead reaches in his back pocket and takes out the blush pink envelope. “This was in his jacket,” he hands it to you before having to turn around completely to hide his wet face. 

On the last page, he’s added something in bright red sharpie:

“To the most beautiful girl in the world, I’m playing for you tonight, Y/N. Love, Reggie”

You break. It suddenly becomes real to you - he’s actually gone. Him, Luke, and Alex are really gone. You crash to your knees, audibly crying and almost screaming until Bobby helps you up and takes you into a much needed hug. You still let out vocal yelps and whimpers from deep in your chest. 

You remember nothing else from that night, which is probably for the best since you don’t want to remember anything about it. Instead, you relive the memory of kissing him over and over. It’s almost like you knew that would be the last time you’d kiss him, so you tried to jam the lifetime of kisses you would’ve had into one.

[impalas-r-important]

Love of my Life - (3) Movie Night

Summary: Y/N and Nick find a way to fill their free time, followed by a movie night.

Warnings: N/A

Series Masterlist

It had been a few weeks since Nick had come to stay at Bobby’s house and the three of you had grown fond of him. You had spent a fair amount of time with Nick, helping him with what he needed, but also just hanging out. You hadn’t been waking up depressed for the first time since you had come back to life. Sam and Bobby went on a quick salt and burn case a few hours outside of town, leaving you and Nick with the house to yourselves. You were sitting on the front porch in a rickety old rocking chair enjoying the sun that had peaked through the clouds on a surprisingly warm February afternoon.

“There you are.” Nick opened the front door and peaked his head out. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” You motioned to the chair next to yours.

He sat down with a sigh. “Wow, it feels great out here.” He remarked. “I’m going a bit stir crazy inside that house.”

“I feel you there. Cases have been few and far between lately. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a little break now and then, but I feel like I should be shooting something.”

“Yeah…” Nick nodded, and a smile grew on his face. “Wait here. I’ve got an idea.” He hobbled inside as quick as he could which entertained you. A few seconds later, he came out with a full garbage bag.

“What in the world are you doing?” You asked as he carefully made his way down the steps and towards a rusted, beat up car that had clearly been used for target practice a few times. He set the bag down on the ground and pulled out empty soda and beer cans, lining them up on the hood and the roof of the car. Nick had tucked a 9mm gun into the back of his belt, which he pulled out and handed to you.

“Ladies first.” He flashed a bright white smile at you, and you took the gun from his hand. You walked over to the porch railing and lined up the cans, quickly picking them off one by one until the clip was empty. You ejected the clip, spun the gun around in your hand (a trick you had learned from Dean) and returned it to Nick.

“Oh, damn.” Nick whistled. “I like a girl that can handle a gun.” He looked you up and down.

“Oh, I can handle much more than that.” You winked at him and reloaded the clip. Nick set up more cans and took his turn. He hit every one of them, just like you.

“Alright,” you nodded, “new guy can hit a can from 20 feet away. Let’s up the ante.”

“What do you have in mind?” He mischievously smiled at you.

“Give me ten minutes.”

You went inside and grabbed your sniper rifle. You were so excited to buy this thing, but you’d only ever had the opportunity to use it once. This was the perfect excuse for some practice. You slung it over your back, grabbed a few rounds and headed back outside.

“Now we’re talking!” Nick’s face lit up when he saw the gun you were carrying. You set it down on the porch and picked up the bag of cans, walking to the other end of Bobby’s salvage yard and climbing a ladder to reach the top of an old shed. You set up 5 cans for each of you and returned to the porch.

“Best of 5, loser makes dinner and cleans up the cans.” You explained the rules to Nick as you loaded 2 clips with 5 rounds in each magazine. “Ladies first.” You mocked as you held the rifle out to him.

He slowly took a few steps towards you, giving you a playful look with his tongue pressed to his top teeth. He towered over you for a few seconds, keeping eye contact as he took the gun from your hands and gave you a competitive yet flirty look which you returned. He set up on the small table on the porch and took his aim.

His first shot was a miss. “Relax, relax. Don’t get too excited just yet.” He waved his hand at you. “That was like a pancake, first one is always a tester.”

You put your hands up in the air. “I didn’t say anything.”

He readjusted and cracked his knuckles, looking into the scope. The next 4 were hits. Nick pulled away from the gun and began to eject the clip. “4 out of 5 ain’t too shabby. I’m thinking I’m in the mood for a steak dinner.” He teased.

“Alright, fine. I’ll admit it, you’re good.” You picked up the magazine with your rounds sitting on the table and added one more bullet to it as you brushed passed him and whispered playfully, “but I’m better.” Nick raised his eyebrows at you and watched as you knelt down, calibrating the scope to your needs and fired of 5 rapid shots, hitting each of your cans, before using your added bullet to knock down the can that he had missed. You flipped your hair behind your shoulders and looked over to see his reaction. He was looking you up and down and quickly looked away and blushed when he noticed you had caught him staring.

“You know what, steak dinner does sound good.” You winked, sauntered over to him and handed him the bag to pick up the cans from the yard. “Come on, I’ll help. I’m not going to make the gimp clean them all up.” You walked down the step and bent over to pick up cans. Nick joined you.

“Let me ask you something, Y/N.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I had obviously heard of the Winchester brothers, but I had heard a fair amount about you as well.”

“Oh? Like what?” You were caught off guard that the hunting community knew who you were.

“Stuff like how you look like the girl-next-door, but you could take down 5 demons by yourself.”

You chuckled. “That was one time, and I probably got lucky.”

“I mean, clearly, you’re a dead shot. I just witnessed that with my own eyes. Everyone also talked about how you were absolutely beautiful,” he paused and looked at you with a small smile, “which I can testify to be more than true.” This made your heart skip a beat and you tried to fight the blush you could feel creeping onto your cheeks. “But they all said you were off-limits because you were Dean’s girl, and Dean would kill anyone who even looked at you the wrong way. Maybe it’s none of my business, but what happened between you two? From everything I heard, you were inseparable, but here I am flirting with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and there’s no Dean around to stop me.”

You weren’t completely sure that you wanted to talk about this, but you trusted Nick. What happened between you and Dean was over and talking about it was just part of the process of moving on. You took a deep breath and threw a can into the black garbage bag. “I ended up dying in the big showdown with Lucifer. Maybe I was being a reckless idiot, but he was beating the crap out of Dean and I couldn't just stand there and let Dean die."

“Oh, wow. I didn’t know that…” Nick gave you a sympathetic look.

“Sam and I were brought back pretty soon after that. We were confused and went to go find Dean, figuring he had made some sort of dumbass deal to bring us back. I was completely unprepared to see him already living with another woman. He had moved on, which he had every right to. I mean, I didn’t think that I would be back from the dead, and I’m sure he didn’t either, but I was devastated that he had moved on so quickly. I guess he didn’t love me as much as I loved him. Sam and I kept Dean in the dark for a year about us being back because he had a new family and seemed happy. Who were we to take that away from him? But it was a rough year for me. He is, or I thought he was, the love of my life. He was everything to me, and it turns out I was just another girl to him. That was a hard pill to swallow.” You looked around for more cans to pick up but didn’t find any and switched your focus to kicking rocks instead. “He found out that we were back because we had to intervene after some Djinn were trying to kill him and Lisa and Ben. Dean convinced us to make Bobby’s house our home base and stay here in between hunts. He and I have barely talked about our relationship, but it’s been pretty clear the whole time that he’s done with me. Dean and I would always talk about getting out of the hunting life and building a farmhouse in some small town in the middle of nowhere. Maybe even starting a family. But he found that with someone else and I wouldn’t want to break up his newfound happiness.”

“Damn.” Nick joined you in kicking rocks with his non-booted foot as the two of you walked back to the house. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m a pretty good listener.” You nodded and he could tell that you were done talking about this. “Now let’s go buy some steak. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m pretty much a grill master.” He gave you a warm smile and placed his hand on the small of your back as you walked up the steps. “Hey, Y/N, did you really punch the Devil in the face?”

“Yep. I didn’t know what else to do when I was standing face to face with Lucifer. That smooth move got me killed.” You shrugged.

Sam and Bobby got home that night while Nick was out back grilling up some steaks.

“Something smells damn good.” Bobby remarked as he entered the house.

Sam inhaled and exhaled. “Smells like steak to me.” A smile came across his face as you walked in the back door holding a plate of sirloins.

“Welcome back boys! That was a quick case.” You gave them each a quick side hug.

“Yeah, fairly simple.” Sam licked his lips. “But enough about the case, let’s talk about those steaks. I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Nick lost a little competition we had earlier. He owes me a steak dinner, but if you ask nicely, I might share with you.”

“Me too?” Dean asked as he walked into the house.

“Look what the cat dragged in. I thought you had forgotten about us.” You greeted him. “You gotta earn your keep though, sorry.” You teased him.

“What do you mean?” Dean playfully frowned.

“I won our shooting competition earlier, Nick is on grill duty, and Sam and Bobby just got back from a hunt. What did you do to deserve steak?” You raised your eyebrows at him.

He held up a plastic bag with DVDs inside. “I brought the movies.” He looked at you, waiting for approval.

“Hmm… Did you bring chocolate to go with those movies?” You interrogated.

“Come on, Y/N/N, I know you too well.” Dean reached in the bag and pulled out 3 of your favorite chocolate bars before dropping them back in.

You gave him a childish smile and ran over to him. “Yay!” You grabbed the bag from him and handed him the steak plate. “I’ll get the movie going.” You explained as you walked into the living room.

Dean smiled at you and watched you walk away, his eyes and smile lingering a little too long. Sam noticed and cleared his throat to break his brother’s stare. Dean snapped out of it quickly and looked to the ground before walking into the kitchen with the steaks. Nick had finished cleaning off the grill and followed suit.

“Hey, the whole gang’s here.” Nick smiled and greeted everyone.

“How you feelin’ kid?” Bobby asked as he put a heaping pile of mashed potatoes on his plate.

“A lot better. The ankle still gives me trouble, but it’ll heal sooner or later.” Nick dished up a plate of his own and grabbed an extra plate as well.

“Two plates, huh?” Dean noticed and asked. “You must be hungry.”

“One’s for Y/N. I lost a bet from earlier today, so I suppose I get to be her waiter.” He joked.

“Well don’t worry about, I’ve already got one started for her.” Dean held up the plate next to him that he had already put a steak on.

“Oh, okay. Thanks, man. I can finish it up if you want?”

“It’s fine, I know how she likes everything.” Dean’s response was short with hints of possessiveness and anger behind it. Bobby could tell and whacked the back of Dean’s head as soon as Nick had left the room.

“Don’t be stupid, Dean. The kid’s got a crush on Y/N, give him a break. He’s a good one.” Bobby warned.

You were sitting in the middle of the couch and Nick sat down on one side of you as you skipped through the commercials before the movie. He leaned in and whispered, “I don’t think Dean likes me very much.”

You giggled and answered, “Dean’s like that with everyone he meets at first. Don’t take it personally.” Dean walked in the room with your food and handed it to you as he sat down on the other side of you.

“Extra mashed potatoes and gravy on everything, just how you like it.” Dean sat his plate down on the coffee table.

“Great,” you thought to yourself, “sitting in between Dean and Nick for a whole movie isn’t going to be weird at all.”

Sam was sitting in the armchair next to the couch and you sent a “help me” look to him, and he just responded with a shrug. You exhaled as quietly as you could and picked up the remote from the table and pressed play.

“Alright, Caddy Shack! I love this movie!” Nick said with a mouthful of food.

Dean loved this movie too, and you could tell he wanted to say something about the movie to Nick but was holding back out of pride. It was going to be a long night.

As soon as the movie was over, Nick stood up and cleared the plates. “I’m beat. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” He shot an extra smile and a quick wink your way. Dean noticed and had to keep himself from balling his fist.

“I’m calling it too, night guys.” Sam gave a wave and headed towards the stairs, leaving you and Dean on the couch together.

“So, any fun plans for your birthday coming up?” You pulled one leg up on the couch and placed your elbow on the back frame, resting your head in your hand and facing Dean.

“Oh, no I don’t think so.” He stretched his legs out on the table and slid one hand behind his head and the other laying on the back of the couch, resting on your arm.

“What? You love your birthday!”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you definitely do! You play it off like you don’t, but we all know it’s your favorite holiday.”

“Yeah, yeah…” He gave you a side smile that made your heart jump a bit. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t flirting with you, just being nice. It was rare that you and Dean were ever alone together anymore, but it felt natural.

“A few years ago, you literally made me celebrate ‘birthday week’ with you. Remember?”

“I woke you up at sunrise and we drove cross country to see the Grand Canyon.” Dean smiled, clearly getting lost in his reminiscing. “Then we couldn’t find even the crappiest motel room to stay in, so we slept in the Impala and it was freezing. That was my favorite birthday.”

“Well, I’m still planning on making your birthday pie. If you want me to, that is.”

“Hell yes I do! I’m thinking classic apple. Yours is still the best I’ve ever had. I dream about swimming in that pie sometimes.”

“You got it, birthday boy.”

“Do you remember the first time you made me pie for my birthday?”

“Of course I do. It was horrible. I practiced a lot between then and the next year and you have to admit, I’m pretty damn good now.”

“I just remember the look on your face when I walked into the kitchen and you were covered in flour. I wish I had a picture of that moment.” Dean threw his head back in laughter.

“I wanted it to be a surprise! I didn’t think you’d be awake at 3 in the morning. It was going to be a birthday breakfast pie.”

“How could I sleep with you making all that noise in the kitchen? Plus, I turned over in bed to cuddle with you and you were gone. Obviously, I went to go find you.” Dean paused. “I never really could sleep well without you beside me. Still don’t.” He looked at you with longing emerald eyes, but you quickly broke the eye contact and stood up.

“Yeah… Well, I should get to bed. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, Y/N/N.” Dean knew he had over-stepped.

Dean found himself wanting to grab you by the hand and pull you into a big hug or follow you upstairs and tell you that he was still in love with you, but Sam’s words rang true in his head. He had made his bed, and now he had to sleep in it. He chose Lisa, but he didn’t want to go home to her. He wanted you back. He wanted the hunting life back. He wanted to live here with you and Sam, but he felt like he was slowly being replaced with Nick. Sam got along with him, Bobby clearly liked him, and he flirted with you every chance he got. Dean wanted nothing more than to yell at Nick to leave and never come back or to give him a swift punch in the face for looking at you with adoration in his eyes, but Dean knew that he couldn’t do that. He walked across the room and grabbed a pillow and blanket from the basket in the corner and laid down on the couch, hoping to fall asleep quickly.

You made your way upstairs, trying to hold back tears until you made it into your room. It was one thing to remember fun times you two had together, but how could Dean so casually throw in that he doesn’t sleep well without you? If felt like a punch to the gut and you wanted to be mad, but then he would look at you with those stupid handsome eyes and you would melt into a spineless puddle. Half of you wanted to scream and yell at Dean, and the other half wanted to grab him by the hand and take him upstairs with you. The truth was, you didn’t sleep great without him either, but you were afraid of the can of worms that might open if you told him that. The second you shut your door, you leaned against it and slowly slid down to the floor as the tears began to fall from your eyes.

Chapter 4

[hood-ex]

Part 2 of the Dimension Switch Fic.  

“Grayson, what on earth are you doing?”

Dick turns his attention away from the meat lover's pizza he’s slicing to look over his shoulder at the kid who’s standing in the middle of the kitchen and giving Dick a disapproving glare. The kid, Damian, has his arms crossed over his long-sleeved shirt, and the way his shoulders are slightly hunched makes him look like a prickly, uncomfortable little cat. Dick would like to think the discomfort comes from the pair of beige chinos the kid is wearing, but if there’s anything he’s learned during his short time in this universe, it’s that Damian isn’t just any ordinary kid. That seems to cross over into how the kid likes to dress himself.

Dick motions to the pizza with the pizza cutter in his hand. “Making pizza. Want a slice?”

“What I want,” Damian says with a curled lip, “is for you to stop prancing around here in an indecent state.” He looks pointedly at Dick’s bare chest as if Dick’s exposed pecs are an offensive faux pas.

Dick cocks his hip against the counter and mirrors Damian’s crossed arms.

“That’s what’s got your thong in a knot?”

It’s only after he’s said it that Dick remembers that particular expression isn’t used in this universe. He’d found that out real quick the other day when he’d used it.

Tim had given him a confused look and asked, “Don’t you mean ‘don’t get your panties in a twist?’”

The kid had then started rambling about how the original phrase involved knickers and was created by the Brits and, well, Tim had reminded him so much of an excited puppy that Dick had just ruffled the kid’s hair after the explanation and gone on his way.

“Richard would never walk around without a shirt unless he was downstairs or in his apartment!” Damian says hotly.

Oh, Dick thinks, he just misses his big brother.  

He’d been informed about his 27-year-old counterpart—who he’s secretly been referring to as DG in his head—by Damian the first night he’d arrived in this universe. From what he’d heard, DG did sound kind of awesome. At least, Damian had made him sound that way after explaining that DG had been his Batman. What was less awesome was learning the reason DG became Batman in the first place.

Dick’s only slightly ashamed to admit that when he’d been left to the guest room he’d been given, he’d teared up imagining his dad dying and taking all the comforting warmth from the manor with him.

Even now, the thought of his dad’s death makes his mood sour. He tries not to let it show as he turns back to his pizza to move a few slices over to the plate he prepared.

“When your brother gets back, you can sing his praises for wearing a shirt. Me? I’m gonna keep doing my thing because no one’s gonna die from me not wearing a shirt.”

Dick doesn’t even have to be looking at the kid to know he bristles about one of the things Dick just said.

“Father and Pennyworth will not be pleased!”

Dick shrugs and moves to place the pizza cutter in the dishwasher. “They can tell me if it’s a problem.”

“I’m telling you it’s a problem,” Damian says, and Dick smoothly evades the fingers Damian tries to grip his arm with. Dick returns to his spot at the counter and grabs his plate in one hand and a single piece of pizza in his other.

“And I’m telling you to take a slice of pizza. Last chance.” Dick holds the slice out like some kind of peace offering.

The look of disdain Damian gives him reminds Dick of a wolf with its teeth pulled back in a threatening snarl.

“I’m a vegetarian,” Damian says through gritted teeth.

“You are?” And now Dick kind of feels like an asshole. “My bad, kumquat.”

“Tt!”

Damian marches out of the kitchen with all the rage of a thousand women scorned, and Dick breathes a sigh of relief once he disappears.

He can’t wait to be an only child again.

It’s only when he’s settled in the living room with his pizza and drink sitting on the coffee table that he tries to imagine himself being a big brother. As Starling, he had to deal with kids all the time. Comforting them when they were scared, entertaining them when they needed a distraction, giving them first aid when they were hurt, and holding their hands while waiting for the parents to collect them.

The only kid he knows personally that he’s always been fond of is J’onn’s daughter, K'hym. He’s taken her to the trampoline park a few times, always given her over the top gifts for her birthday, and will gladly give her a piggyback ride when she shyly asks for one. He likes teaching her things too. His chest is always filled with pride and purpose whenever she learns something she didn’t know before all because of him. And the smile he always gets whenever she excitedly wraps her arms around his legs and loudly proclaims how much she missed him? There’s nothing better.

He tries to imagine doing all that and more with four siblings and… he thinks he might like it. He thinks he might be good at it if given the chance. Hell, DG seems to be pretty good at it if the way Tim and Damian talk about him with affection and admiration is any indication.  

A frown crosses his face as he thinks about sharing his dad and Alfred with a bunch of other kids. It’s always been just the three of them since he’d been adopted at 4-years-old. Dad’s never shown interest in adopting more kids, probably because Dick’s always been a bit of a handful. Dad’s always been good at combating that by challenging him and keeping his mind sharp, but would he even have time to do stuff like that with Dick if there were more kids in the picture?

Dick wishes he could use this universe’s version of his dad to get some perspective on that. The problem is that Bruce is so different from his dad that he doesn’t think it’ll be a fair comparison. Plus, Bruce’s DG isn’t here so it’s not like Dick can watch them interact anyway.

It simmers on the back burner of his mind as he digs into his pizza and flicks on the TV. He surfs through the channels and ends up stopping on some show called Supernatural that’s got bad acting and janky special effects. He’s only able to watch it for half an hour before his leg starts bouncing out of boredom.

He spends the rest of his day in the cave alone while Bruce is at someplace called the Watchtower to finish making plans with Zatanna. There’s not anything productive for him to do since Bruce doesn’t trust him enough to use the big ass computer or the multiple other monitors that are down here.

Dick takes his time checking out all the cars and motorcycles that come in all different shapes and sizes. Most are sleek and black, and a few have red or white accents. He mostly finds himself drawn to the bikes. He can appreciate a good bike, and he wonders if DG is the same way.

Damian comes down from time to time, claiming to be keeping Dick company. Dick’s not fooled by the lie. He’s come to realize that Damian is just as wary of him as Bruce is, and he knows Damian just wants to keep an eye on him. Dick doesn’t blame the kid. It’s smart not to trust him. Smart, but annoying. He just wishes Damian would at least pretend to hide his intentions better by actually interacting with him rather than awkwardly skulking in the darkness.

Dinner ends up being a lonely affair. Damian congratulates him for finally putting on a shirt and then makes himself scarce. Alfred busies himself with baking a German chocolate cake rather than sitting to eat with him. Yesterday he’d at least had Tim to sit and talk with at the kitchen table. Tim’s not at the manor anymore though, and Dick doesn’t think he’ll get a chance to see him again before he goes back home.

Dick’s not prepared for the feeling of nostalgia that consumes him while he stuffs his mouth full of steak au poivre. He doesn’t know if it's the sight of all the empty chairs at the table or the silence that gets to him. He just knows that he misses his dad. He misses his Alfred. He misses them all sitting together at the table and talking about their days. He misses his dad’s morning hugs. He misses making dinner with Alfred. He misses having his dad’s undivided attention as they talk about everything and nothing. He misses singing dramatic renditions of Bobby Vinton songs with Alfred in the cave.

He feels like there’s some integral piece of himself missing. Like these days don’t matter unless they’re shared with his favorite people. It’s ironic considering he’s surrounded by people who look and talk the same as his family but aren’t them in all the ways that matter. It’s almost worse being around his family’s counterparts because it feels like normalcy is close within his grasp when in reality, it’s far away.

At least the steak here tastes good, Dick thinks as he takes his last bite of meat and washes it down with water.

There’s the sound of soft footsteps coming closer, and Damian suddenly appears in the doorway. He leans against the frame with his arms crossed, pointedly not looking in Dick’s direction.

“Pennyworth,” Damian says, and he waits for Alfred to look at him before continuing. “Father has returned to the cave and requests his dinner be brought downstairs.”

The homesickness and boredom that’s been swelling in Dick’s chest all day finally come to a head, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s already on his feet.

“I’ll take it to him!” he says, and if he sounds a little too excited to do such a menial task, well, sue him. He really wants to see his dad. Even if said dad isn’t technically his real dad. They’re both still Bruce Wayne, and that’s enough for him. For now, at least.

Alfred blinks at him in surprise. Dick’s not sure whether it’s because of the offer itself or the enthusiasm behind it.

“Are you sure, Master Dick? As our guest, we certainly don’t expect you to—”

“I don’t mind,” he assures, waving off Alfred’s concern. “You’re busy making the cake and it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

Alfred stares at him for a moment longer, and Dick’s not sure what he’s looking for, but whatever it is, it makes his eyes soften and his smile stretch.

“Very well, sir. I’ll put it all on a tray for you to take down.”

“Tt.” Damian rolls his eyes, pushing off against the frame and disappearing from sight. Dick kind of hopes he’s not going back down to the cave so that Dick can talk to Bruce without feeling Damian glaring daggers into his back.

Dick shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels while he waits for Alfred to put everything together. He can’t help but think about how his Alfred always hates it when he rocks like this in the middle of the kitchen, claiming that Dick’s restless energy gives him anxiety.

“Here you are,” Alfred says a minute later, offering the tray to him. Dick’s relieved to note that this tray has a cup holder to keep the drink from spilling. He’ll have to tell his Alfred about it when he gets back home. “You can leave the tray with Master Bruce.”

Dick takes the heavy load that makes his arms strain a little. “Thanks, Alf.”

He props the tray up on one hand, preferring to pretend he’s a waiter. He used to love pretending to wait on Bruce and Alfred when he was a kid. He would grab a random notepad and pen from Bruce’s desk, and he would take Bruce and Alfred’s orders. Bruce usually ordered some kind of fruit, and Alfred would typically request something easy like a bottle of water. Dick would happily carry the items to them on a tray, and once the items were accepted, Bruce and Alfred would pretend to pay him and tip him excessively. It was one of Dick’s favorite games to play.

He’s still smiling from the memory when he gets to the cave, and he tries to tamp it down as he approaches the chair Bruce is sitting at in front of the big computer screen. From what he can see, Bruce is wearing the batsuit without the cowl, and even though his eyes are glued to the screen, Dick can see how his shoulders tense the closer Dick gets.

“Hey, Bruce,” Dick greets as he places the tray down on the table’s limited free space. “I got your dinner.”

Bruce stops typing while he looks over the food on the tray with an impassive look. The dark circles under his eyes make the action look more intense than it has any right to be.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, resuming his typing.

Dick waits for some kind of follow up and frowns when there is none. It creates an awkward tension in the air, and for a brief moment, Dick thinks about slinking back up the stairs without another word. The eagerness in his chest won’t let up though, and he decides to poke and prod a little more.

“The steak is really good.” He leans against the side of the computer chair, his right hand dangling so that his fingers barely brush Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce stills at the touch for the briefest second. “You guys eat like kings here. Not that I don’t back home or anything. My Alfred’s an amazing cook too. He usually lets dad cook a few nights a week, and dad’s a good cook, y’know? He’s just not Alfred level good. So sometimes dinner can be kind of hit or miss.”

Bruce finally stops what he’s doing and cranes his head up to look at Dick with an unreadable look that makes Dick shuffle in place. He’s not nervous per se. He’s just… a little unnerved by how hard it is to read Bruce. It’s never this difficult to get a feel for what his dad is thinking.

What Bruce finally ends up saying is, “I don’t cook.”

Dick raises a brow. “Ever?”

“Almost never.”

“Because you suck?”

Dick swears he sees the corner of Bruce’s mouth tilt up just the tiniest bit.

“Hn. That’s what I’ve been told.”

Dick pats Bruce on the shoulder consolingly, the material of the cape feeling rough and heavy against his fingers.

“I guess we can’t all be Gordon Hamsay’s.”

Bruce’s brow furrows. “Hamsay? It’s Ramsay in this universe.”

“Ramsay?” Dick says incredulously. “That sounds so weird.”

“Hamsay sounds wrong to me,” Bruce shrugs.

Dick clucks his tongue. “This universe fuckery is too much.”

“Speaking of which,” Bruce says, and any trace of lightheartedness is snuffed out of his tone. Now he’s all Batman, and Dick feels himself straightening out of habit. “We’ll be able to send you home this time tomorrow.”

Dick smiles, his heart leaping. Images of hugging his parents, sleeping in his own bed, and going out as Skywing flash through his mind.

“Really?”

“Zatanna pinpointed your universe a few hours ago. We decided to wait to make the switch until tomorrow when Doctor Fate is available to help us.”

Dick curls his fingers in his hair and tugs on the strands, trying to ignore the way his eyes sting. Home. He’s going home! He’s going back to his life! To his people! To his… everything!

“How are we gonna do it?” he asks a little breathlessly.  

Bruce turns away from him and looks back at the computer.

“That’s classified.”

“Sorry… what?” He doesn’t mean to shout, but he can’t help it because… what? “I’m not allowed to know how I’m getting home?”

“You know Zatanna is involved. What more do you need?”

“How about some details so I know you’re not just going to punt me off into the abyss!”

“That would require trusting you,” Bruce says, and okay, Dick knows as much. But still. Ow.

“And I get that! I just—” He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. “Look. I’m not asking you to give me the exact damn spell we’re going to be using, okay? I just want to know the gist of the plan. Am I going to have to do anything? Am I going by myself? Is Zatanna—”

“The plan is to take you back to your world tomorrow. End of story.”

Dick can feel something dark and ugly start to bubble up inside of him. He crosses his arms over his chest and holds on tight to keep himself from doing something childish like shoving Bruce’s rolly chair.

“What? You think giving me even the smallest bit of insight is going to be enough for me to blow up your whole world or something?”

“It could be. You could have sent yourself here to kill us for all I know.”

“Bullshit! If you really believed that, you wouldn’t let me stay here!”

“Wouldn’t I?” And now Bruce is on his feet and using his height advantage to loom over Dick like a dark shadow. “You think I’d rather have you out in the city where I can’t monitor you?”

“What I think,” Dick spits, “is that you’re a control freak.”

Dick thinks maybe Bruce has heard that before based on his lack of reaction to it.

“How many experiences have you had like this back in your world?” Bruce asks, stepping closer. Dick stands his ground, and they’re so close that he can feel Bruce’s body heat. “How many times have you had people from other universes invade your own?”

“I—” Dick scowls. “None.”

“Well, we’ve had our fair share of experiences with evil counterparts coming here to kill us and destroy our universe.” Dick blinks at the fury laced in Bruce’s voice. “So you need to understand that I won’t compromise our safety by giving you information you could use against us.”

Nothing’s funny, but Dick laughs anyway, and it’s like the grinding of a car that won’t start.

“You know what?” he asks, raking his fingers through his hair so hard that his scalp stings. “My dad would have trusted his friend with the truth compelling lasso to make any alternate counterpart’s intentions clear. But not you, right? You won’t—”

Bruce slams his hand on the table so hard that the black pen holder falls on its side and sends a handful of pens clattering to the floor.

Dick doesn’t even flinch.

“We’re done here. Upstairs. Now.”

Bruce’s face is cold like a blank mask that’s hard and unforgiving.

He’s seen his dad look that way at criminals before. Never at him. Never at his son.

Except he’s not this Bruce’s son, is he? And this Bruce isn’t his dad. This Bruce could never be his dad. Not with a look like that.

A knot forms in Dick’s throat. He should have stayed upstairs. He would have been bored, and he would have made himself so homesick he probably would have cried, but at least he wouldn’t feel like this.

Dejected. Sad. Miserable.

Lonely.

The worst thing is knowing that the way he feels is partly his fault.

He came down here looking for his dad, and instead, he got Bruce.

[wormstacheangel]

December 19, 2021

Hello! I’m done with this chapter just in time! It took me all day cause I get distracted easily lol Enjoying my countdown for Christmas with this domestic family? Then catch up with the masterpost here!

Summary: Welcome to the flashback episode where we get the story of how Dean and Cas got together. I think it’s dumb but cute :) 

Word Count:  2358 (yeah...this one could have been longer but I had to chill)

Cas was humming in the kitchen, his playlist playing loudly through the house, while he prepared Dean’s lunch. He stirred the soup once before grabbing a spoon to taste for seasoning. Adding a bit more white pepper before dropping the chopped kale into the hot pot of chicken rice soup.

“Dad?” Jack appeared on Cas’s left. “What time is Dad coming home?”

Claire appeared on Cas’s right. “And what the hell are you listening to?”

He turned towards Jack first, who was mesmerized by the stirring of the soup. “You’re Dad will get off from work at 5, so by 5:30 he should be home.” Then he turned his attention to Claire who was snacking on the homemade croutons. Her eyes met his and she smiled, small and crooked with warm eyes. “And I’m listening to a playlist Sam made me. I believe this is Wannabe by the Spice Girls. Oh, scratch that it’s playing Heaven Help Me by Lizzo now.”

Her eyes widened before she threw her head back to laugh. A hand landing hard on his shoulder while he smiled fondly at his daughter. Jack was already humming the song while reaching for some croutons for himself. Making a face when he bits down on a real burnt one.

“Does Dean listen to this teenage girl stuff?” Claire asked, leaning against the counter. 

Jack copied her movement but it didn’t look as casual as Claire made it seem. Cas moved around them to get a tall thermos to fill with enough soup for a second or third bowl. Dean’s lunchbox was already filled with everything he needed to keep himself warm and full until he came home for dinner. He even added a loaf of apple cinnamon bread to his lunch so Dean could share with his coworkers. A smaller thermos was filled with coffee and he was bringing an extra reusable water bottle, covered in stickers Jack picked out, just in case.

“Sometimes. If he’s in a good enough mood.” Cas admits as he finishes filling up the thermos and zipping up the lunch box. 

“You know, you never really told me when you two finally got together.” Claire pushed herself off the counter to grab his arm, looking at him with bright rounding eyes that matched his eye color. “I think I deserve to hear how my Dads got together!”

“It’s a great story.” Jack agrees as he decided that copying his sister wasn’t fun anymore but he was gonna rummage through the fridge. “Dad Dean doesn’t really like talking about it much.”

“What? Why?” Claire furrowed her eyebrows together while looking up at Cas for answers. “You two are so happy-old-married-couple that it’s sickeningly cute. Was he embarrassed or something?”

“Thank you?” Cas raises an eyebrow back at her as he swings the lunchbox into his shoulder. “And he was embarrassed but I think it’s a story we should tell in front of your father.”

“Why?”

“Cause it would be funny.” Cas tells her with a wink while Jack hummed in agreement, a big smile on his face.

As Cas drove slowly through the icy road, he was smiling, fighting back a laugh, unable to stop remembering the day he returned to Earth. Returned to Dean.

It was a few days of Earth time after Chuck was defeated that Cas escaped with his brothers and sisters, along with a few demons that tagged along. He made sure Ruby stayed asleep and behind, not wanting her to bother Sam or Eileen. He never did find Crowley or Meg, even spending some time calling out for both of them when he realized so many were woken up. 

Jack found him and helped him up to heaven to try to fix whatever they could. He didn’t ask about Dean or Sam but Jack reassured him that they were fine. 

“Let me make you stronger, Cas.” Jack reached for him but Cas stopped him, shaking his head.

“I don’t plan on being an angel for long, Jack. So let me use whatever is left to help you.”

And he did. Two Earth months passed before everything was sort of decided upstairs. Raphael wasn’t the biggest fan of the new dynamic but he followed orders, happy it wasn’t under Chuck and he could actually interact with whoever was in charge. 

Cas could feel more of his grace slip away from him when he was with Bobby, reassuring him that his boys were the hero’s he believed them to be, and most importantly they were happy. 

“Are you going back to them?” Bobby asked as he sipped at his beer, Cas sat beside him drinking one of his own. Tasted just like the first one Dean has ever given him. 

Cas hummed into the bottle. “I am.”

“But they think you’re six feet under?”

“They do.” He looked down at his bottle, peeling away the label with his thumbs. “Sometimes I believe that Dean doesn’t think so.”

“Why is that?”

“He prays to me constantly.” Cas smiles, listening to Dean’s prayer right now. “Right now he’s complaining about the crowd at the grocery store.” He chuckles. “And he’s right. I do hate waiting in those long lines.”

Bobby doesn’t say much but the way he says, “Just take care of my boy.” Felt like the blessing he needed, the push, to finally go back to Dean.

Jack was coming down to Earth with him. It may take a while longer to figure out the spell to conceal and hold Jack’s God powers but they would figure it out. Amara promises to find them a way to help him and will contact them soon, giving Jack a final squeeze before she disappears. 

Cas gave Gabriel one last hug, Adam even gave him one even though he was sure Michael wasn’t the hugging type before Jack flew them back to Earth. Appearing in the middle of the bunker’s library. 

Jack ran off with a small smile on his lips, it was constantly strained and never reached his eyes as his powers overwhelmed him, to go look for the brothers. Cas was feeling dizzy from the flight so he shut his eyes, taking a hold of the back of the chair to steady himself. 

Then he looked up when he heard a bottle break. There was a figure laying on top of the map table. 

Cas took out his blade and made his wobbly legs steady before making his way over. Kicking empty beer bottles as he went. Then two bottles of bourbon by the steps. Then he saw the broken bottle of tequila that now laid on the floor by the table.

His eyes traveled up to the map table to see Dean sat blinking over at him. Head tilted and mouth slightly parted. As if he still couldn’t put a name to his face.

Cas put his blade down and made his way over to the drunk hunter. “Be careful there is glass everywhere.”

When he made it to the broken bottle he pushed it into a neat pile with his shoe. 

“How about you go to bed and I’ll clean this up?” Cas leaned down to pick up the bigger pieces but he was quick to cut himself. “Fuck.” Cas hissed as he realized he couldn’t find any grace to even heal himself enough to stop the bleeding.

Dean gently reaches down to take Cas’s bleeding hand. “The last time I saw you, the real you, the same hand was bleeding.” Dean held on to his hand and tears started to fall into Cas’s hand. “I wish I could have at least helped you patch it up. I wish I could have at least done one goddamn thing for you.”

“Dean.” Cas reached to touch Dean’s face with the tips of his fingers but Dean pushed his face into his palm. His heart raced as he cradled Dean’s face in his good hand while his other hand was being held so gently. 

“I miss you, Cas.” His eyes closed as Cas’s thumb started to make circles around his cheek all on its own. Feeling the stubble that was growing too long for Dean’s liking. “I miss you so damn much and I just...I don’t-I don’t think you’re coming back this time.”

“I’m back, Dean.” Cas tells him with urgency. Taking his bleeding hand back to grab Dean’s face, wanting to make him look at him. When Dean blinks up at him again his eyes start to water. “I’m back! I’m here. I’m here, Dean. As long as you want me.”

“Cas?” Dean finally seems to look at him, actually see him. “You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

“You’re back?” Dean covers Cas’s bloody hand with his own while the other one reaches to grip the trench coat. 

“Yes, dumbass.” Cas chuckles through his tears. 

Dean tugs at Cas’s coat and pulls him into a hug. His arms wrapped around his shoulders into a tight embrace, his nose nuzzled into Cas’s neck. His breath tickling him and his breath...horrendous. 

“You stink, Dean.” Cas hugs him back as he hides his face into Dean’s shoulder.

“I love you.” Dean says as he pulls himself closer. 

“I know. I heard your prayers.” Cas chuckles into Dean’s skin. “I love you too.”

Dean pulls back so suddenly that it scares Cas. Thinking maybe he said something wrong but then Dean made another sudden move.

“Marry me!”

Cas choked on his breath when he couldn’t even find his next words.

“Cas, marry me!” His eyes were wide, eyes dilated and a flushed face. Clearly drunk out of his mind. “You’re back so we can get married now! I mean...I think you need to ask Sam for my hand but fuck him for ditching me for Eileen today. Let’s get married before he gets home.”

Dean started to pull him towards the stairs, both of them stumbling over their feet for two different reasons. 

“Can I come too?” Jack finally made his way towards them. “I can be a flower boy!”

“Jack, we’re not getting married.” Cas tells him, his head spinning. “I just…Dean, you’re drunk!”

“Am not!” Dean argued back, his brows furrowed together. Cas’s shoulders relaxed as he looked at how cute his grumpy expression was. “Say you’ll marry me, Cas!”

“Fine, I’ll marry you!” Cas smiles back at him and the grin that shined through Dean’s eyes made his heart race. Fuck, he really missed him. “But not tonight. Tonight we sleep off the alcohol.”

Dean Winchester was pouting at him and his heart ached. He reached to grip at his own shirt, right over his heart. “Dean, please.”

“But I love you.”

“Aww,” Jack pouted back at him. “Dad, he loves you!”

“Jack, you are not helping.” Cas glared at him and then before he looked back at Dean he had a pair of hot lips pressed against his own. Dean was kissing him.

Before he could even enjoy the kiss or even register it completely, Dean was throwing up on his shoes.

Back in the garage, Cas was grinning when he stepped into the warm office. Dean was in the front office when he walked in, the phone between his shoulder and ear as he typed away in the computer. His eyes widened when he saw Cas but then a smile spread across his lips.

“Yes, we’ll send someone right over to tow your car right over. It shouldn’t take more than two to look at. Of course. It’ll be ready by tomorrow. No worries. Okay, have a nice day.” He hung up the phone and quickly rushed to pull Cas into a quick kiss and a tight hug. “Babe, what are you doing here? I said the roads were still too icy to drive in.”

“And yet you put snow chains on my tiers this morning.” Cas hands him his lunch that his boyfriend takes with a grin.

“It’s cause I know you wouldn't listen.” He kisses Cas’s cheek. “Thanks, Babe. You have time to eat lunch with me?”

“I always have time for you, Dean.”

When lunch was over Cas walked back to his truck, Dean fixing the beanie over his head once again. Giving him a quick kiss before saying, “Get home safely.”

“You too, sweetheart.” Cas waves at him when he quickly rushes to the warmth of his truck. Then before he gets into the car he looks back at Dean, who of course was still looking back at him, “Oh, by the way, Claire wants to hear the story of how we got together.”

Dean stood there for a few seconds as his face dropped, cute grumpy. “No.”

“I promised to tell her over dinner!”

“No!”

“Love you!”

“Cas, babe, no!”

“Love you! Bye!”

“Love you too but no! Cas!”

That drunk proposal felt like years ago instead of months. 

Of course, the best part of the night was the following morning.

Cas woke up with Dean staring down at him, eyes red and filled with tears but a soft smile on his lips. Fingers running through his hair in a gentle caress. Never feeling more at home than he did that morning in Dean’s bed.

“I thought it was creepy to watch people sleep.” Cas mumbles as he reaches over to rub his eyes with the palm of his hands. 

“It is but you’re, um...you’re cute when you sleep.” Dean admitted while Cas froze his face warming up under his hands. “Are you really here, Cas?”

He finally pulled his hands down to stare back at Dean. “I am.”

“And you’re here to stay? Human?”

“I am.” Cas stood still under Dean’s intense stare. “If you’ll have me.”

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned down to kiss him breathless.

Cas, as well as Jack, was made to promise not to talk about the proposal. Especially the throwing up part or the Jack carrying a passed out Dean to his bed. Cleaning both of them up before he went back to his own room. 

Still, he loved to tease him every chance he got. And he knew their daughter will do the same.

[extasiswings]

"sigurista" for Eddie

Edit: On ao3 here.

sigurista: Someone who makes sure that everything goes as planned; the kind of person who will not act unless he totally feels sure that the desired result would be obtained. [Okay, this is probably cheating because it only very technically fits if you squint, but this is all the result of your enabling so.  If anyone wanted more White House AU Buddie, this is a follow up to this prompt fill.]  

It’s a quiet day.

Now, Buck’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he can count on one hand the number of times his schedule has been so light throughout the first year of his presidency, so he can’t help checking it again and then a third time just to make sure. But it doesn’t change the longer he looks at it.

Okay. So, it’s a quiet, light day. That’s a good thing—it’s not like he can’t use the rest.

He’s just not sure why he can’t quite work the tension out of his shoulders, why he feels poised on the edge of a tightrope made of razor wire about to either fall or get sliced.

By noon, all of his scheduled meetings are finished and he’s even managed to catch up on some of the reports he’d been meaning to dig deeper into. He’s antsy and full of untethered energy and, finally, he closes the file he’s looking through and crosses the room to knock on the door connecting the Oval with the Chief of Staff’s office.

(After the last time he walked in without thinking and got an eyeful of his sister and Chim that made him want to bleach his brain, he always knocks.)

“Hey, Chim—I’m going to head back to the residence for the rest of the day—”

The main office door opens.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Mr. President,” Athena says, and it’s been enough time that Buck knows when the head of the secret service shows up personally and without warning it means nothing good. Right behind her, the aide to his National Security Advisor comes skidding to a halt, out of breath.

“You’re needed in the situation room, sir.”

Buck looks back at Athena.

“Michael—?”

(It may well be a conflict of interest that the Vice President’s ex-wife is responsible for making sure Buck stays alive, but then, Buck’s pretty sure there’s no less of one than the fact that his sister is dating his Chief of Staff so...)

“He’s being moved to a secure location,” she replies. “But yes, Bobby’s waiting in the sit room. I can fill you in on the way.”

Buck swears internally and runs a hand through his hair.

“Okay. What do we have?”

“Bomb threat and possible shooter at the Pentagon,” Athena says, and Buck’s heart stops, ice freezing his insides. Because that’s—

“You know, some of us have actual work to do,” Eddie said the night before, the look in his eyes exasperated but fond in the dim light from the lamp on his desk.

“You mean entertaining the leader of the free world isn’t in your job description, Lieutenant Diaz?” Buck had teased right back, reveling in the quirk of Eddie’s lips.

“Yeah, well, you’re going to have to find someone else to entertain you tomorrow—I’ll be in meetings with the joint chiefs at the Pentagon all day. Should be thrilling stuff.”

“Maybe I’ll invent a national security emergency—get you out of it.”

Eddie laughed. “Please don’t, they’ll just reschedule. And then there will be paperwork.”

—that’s where Eddie is.

“How the fuck does that happen?” Buck croaks out, feeling like he’s swallowed glass.

“We’re working out the exact details,” Athena replies. “But it’s fairly clear it was an inside job. Whoever it is killed one of the marines on duty and called in the bomb himself, we’re looking at the security feeds and card access records to narrow down a name.”

She finishes just as they step through the door of the situation room and Bobby looks up.

“Dennis Pierce,” he fills in. “He’s been there eight years, looks like he was identified as part of the investigation to see which employees might have ties to white supremacist groups. He hasn’t been fired yet because the investigation isn’t  finished, but I guess he saw the writing on the wall.”

“And thought he would tender his resignation by, what? Blowing up the joint chiefs?” Buck can hear the edge in his voice, which means Bobby definitely can as well.

(They met on the campaign trail, when Buck started getting intelligence briefings that made him feel like he was drowning, in over his head. But Bobby never treated him like an idiot who didn’t know the first thing about national security, was always patient, willing to sit with him and explain. And by now, Buck’s pretty sure he would be lost without him. Without him and—)

“We’re not going to let that happen,” Bobby replies, his own voice carefully even. Steady. “We have a bomb squad on site and every armed guard in the building looking for this guy, not to mention that most of the people he’s likely to run into are combat-trained military.”

The phone on the desk rings and Bobby picks it up as the door opens and the heads of the FBI and CIA file in.

“Copy that,” Bobby says and hangs up, tapping a few keys on his keyboard to bring up blueprints on the main screen and highlighting a room on the fifth floor.

“Someone pressed one of the hidden panic buttons in conference room J,” he explains. “Bomb squad is on its way and we should be getting camera feeds—now.”

The feed flickers into the screen and steals Buck’s breath all over again, because there, on the screen, with his hands raised and facing down an older, grizzled white man with a gun in one hand and a trigger to the bomb vest strapped to his chest in the other—is Eddie.

“There’s no audio,” Buck points out as Eddie’s lips move too quickly for him to read anything clearly.

“There aren’t any speakers or mics in the room.”

Maybe not, but—over Pierce’s shoulder, Buck notices a phone on the wall.

“I want to talk to him,” he says. “Call the room.”

Bobby’s look is sharp when he turns to look at him.

“Sir, I really wouldn’t advise—”

“Call,” Buck repeats, his tone booking no argument.

Bobby’s lips press thin, but he picks up the phone, speaking quietly into the receiver while Buck doesn’t look away from the camera feed, his stomach twisting itself into knots as Pierce shakes his head violently in response to whatever Eddie is saying. Time seems to slow the longer he watches, even as Bobby passes him the phone.

“Extension 3596,” Bobby says quietly. And Buck dials.

He can’t see the phone ring on the feed, but he sees the effect—Pierce twitches, his head whipping around in surprise, and Eddie takes advantage of the distraction to move—

The feed cuts out.

The phone keeps ringing.

“What happened?” Buck demands. “What—we have to get it back, we have to—”

The line picks up.

“This is General O’Halloran, who am I speaking with?”

Buck swallows hard.

“General, this is the President. What’s your status?”

“Lieutenant Diaz neutralized the threat, sir. Passed him off to the bomb squad waiting outside. We’re all safe and sound.”

There’s something rising up in his throat, and Buck isn’t sure if it’s just a wave of overwhelming emotion or if it’s actually bile.

“Glad to hear it, General,” he chokes out.

He passes the phone back to Bobby and shoves back his chair then, not caring whether they need him for anything, just needing—needing—

Buck rips at the knot of his tie as he steps into the hallway, and only barely makes it through the door of the bathroom at the end of it before he throws up in the sink.

The door opens again a moment later, as he’s gripping the edge of the sink trying to get his adrenaline under control.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Athena says quietly. “Everyone’s fine. Especially him.”

Buck could almost laugh at that if he was in any sort of mood. Because he hasn’t even told Eddie—not technically—hasn’t ever done anything to truly cross a line, but apparently everyone knows anyway.

“I could have lost him...and I would have had to watch,” he says.

“But you didn’t.”

Buck rinses his mouth out and spits.

“Is Bobby pissed at me for walking out?”

Athena shrugs. “I doubt it. I can take you back to the residence now if you want—tell Bobby to finish up and debrief you later.”

Buck swallows again. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

He pauses as half an idea comes into his head, then adds—

“Hey, Athena?  Do you think—”

Which is how he finds himself waiting in a car outside a condo in Virginia with an extra protective detail at nine that night as his regular agents knock on the door. A woman with dark hair opens the door, and Buck can see the way her eyebrows shoot up as she exchanges quick words with the agents before they step inside to conduct their sweep. A minute passes, then the agent at his side taps her earpiece.

“Clear. Got it,” she says, and that’s all Buck needs to get out of the car.

The same dark-haired woman is standing in the entryway, arms crossed, when he walks through the door. He stops in his tracks, suddenly nervous as her calculating gaze trails over him.

“Adriana?” He guesses, and she hums.

“A little warning would have been nice,” she says, but Buck thinks he catches a hint of a smile as she turns on her heel to go down the hallway off the kitchen to what he assumes is a bedroom. “Good night, Mr. President.”

Buck opens his mouth to say something, when Eddie himself appears at the top of the stairs, hair wet and clothes sticking to his skin like he’s just jumped out of the shower.

“Adriana, what the hell—” Eddie cuts off the moment his eyes land on Buck and she just laughs before she disappears down the hall.

“Hi,” Buck says quietly.

“Hey,” Eddie replies. There’s a bruise blossoming over his cheek and Buck’s fingers itch to touch it, or really, to touch Eddie everywhere he can to remind him that he’s here, he’s alive, Buck didn’t lose—

Eddie clears his throat and makes his way the rest of the way down the stairs.

“You’re...in my house.”

Buck shifts his weight. “You almost died today.”

Eddie blows out a breath and rakes a hand through his wet hair.

“Guess you didn’t have to fake that national security emergency after all.”

“Guess not.”

Eddie’s gaze turns considering, his brow furrowing as an odd look crosses his face.

“So...I almost die...and that warrants you showing up in the middle of the night?  Why?”

Buck wets his lips, feeling like he can barely hold Eddie’s eyes. His pulse is racing, blood rushing in his ears, and his voice is a mere rasp when he says—

“You know why.”

You have to know.

Eddie glances down at the floor, then over to the windows where the curtains are closed. Then he nods once.

“Maybe. But...I think I need you to say it.”

Buck nearly throws his hands up. “Fuck, Eddie, because I love—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence because Eddie closes the distance and kisses the rest away, backing Buck against the closed front door. Buck nearly chokes on relief as his hand scramble to twist into Eddie’s damp t-shirt and pull him even closer.

“I thought—” he gasps out when Eddie breaks the kiss in favor of pressing a trail of them down his neck— “I thought you were going to die and I wasn’t going to get to tell you.”

Eddie pauses his exploration, hands spasming on Buck’s hips.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes against his skin. “Yeah, me too.”  

Buck threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair and tugs him back up to kiss him again.

“Athena says she’ll kill me if I’m not back by midnight,” he admits.

Eddie’s lips quirk as he curls a finger through one of Buck’s belt loops and tugs him towards the stairs.

“Then we’re swimming in time.”

[vanillann]

the 1994 battle of the performers (luke patterson x f.reader)

word count: 2.0k

the 1994 battle of the performers masterlist

Chapter 4: Superhero Luke

I let out a shaky breath, looking at myself in the long mirror in my room, and flexed my hand. I could get this spin right without falling.

I looked at myself for a little longer, trying to tell my brain to just spin but it just wouldn’t. I could hear the phone ringing from downstairs for the millionth time but I ignored it again.

You can do this (Y/N).

The spin was fairly simple, I had done it more times than I could count when I was on the dance team, but I suppose a lot has changed since then.

I slowly lifted my foot from the ground, walking myself closely as I had finally got my brain to work with my muscles, turning my abdomen as I was about to spin when a loud knocking sound throughout my house.

I could have ignored it, I properly should have ignored it, but it was an excuse to push this spin a little longer. That was all I needed to stop watching myself in the mirror and jog down the steps of my house. The knocking didn’t stop, I was shocked the person's hand hadn’t fallen off by the house though the knocks sounded.

“Coming!”

I finally got to the large white door, swinging it open with force. I was shocked when I saw an out of breath Luke Patterson standing on my front porch, staring at me with bewildered eyes.

“Oh god,” he looked up, taking a breath and placing a small hand on his ribs.

“What does god have to do with you banging on my door?” I leaned against the door frame, even more, confused when he pushed past me and walked into my house as if it was his own. I shocked my head, reaching for the doorknob and closing my door.

I watched him stand in the center of my living room, spinning in the center of the room as he took in the many artifacts and other things that sat around. He looked in wonder at the different stuff, almost shocked.

“Did you come for my interior designer?”

“No, I came to make sure you weren’t dying,” he tilted his head at me, a bored expression on his face as he looked at me.

“Why would I be dying?” I watched him snap out his daze of my house, following him through my own house, stopping when he found the kitchen and rushing in.

“You were an hour and a half late for practice and didn’t answer when we called on Bobby’s phone,” Luke swung open the fridge, his eyes scanning the multiple heat-up dinners and leftovers that were obviously old.

I let my thumb and pointer finger run over my temple, I had completely forgotten about practice. I had it paired with the day my dad was supposed to come back so when he didn’t it slipped my mind completely.

“I’m so sorry about that, I don’t know how I forgot.”

Luke didn’t say anything, which is why I had looked up to make sure he didn’t fall out on my floor. He closed the fridge, holding a cold bottle of water and quickly screwing off the cap and chugging the water.

“For someone as athletic as you, you acted as if you never ran before,” I commented, bumping my shoulder with his as I passed him. I pulled out one of the nice wooden seats at the island, taking a seat and letting my headrest in my palm as I waited for an answer.

“I thought you were hurt, I think I deserve to overreact.” He finished off the water bottle, throwing it over his shoulder into the trash can that sat behind him.

I shrugged, playing with the end of my sleeves as he sat across from me on the island.

“As I said, I don’t know how I forgot.”

He raised his eyebrow, challenging me to say that one more time. I thought it over, do I tell him about my absent parents or do I push it aside. It’s not like we were close, but I also knew he wouldn’t tell a soul if I didn’t want him to.

I wouldn’t see him after the battle anyway.

“I thought my dad would be home today, when he didn’t show I guess my brain thought I was off a day,” I turned in my chair, casual looking out the kitchen window as I spoke, avoiding eye contact.

“Does he normally not show when he says he will?”

I looked over my shoulder, watching as he leaned on the island, his arm looking buffer as he put weight on them.

“Yeah, I guess.” My words were far from confident, still not making eye contact but at least this time I was facing him. I watched him reach across the table, about to grab my hand when I slowly pulled it back.

“I’m fine, I just forgot.”

I finally made eye contact, begging him silently to drop this topic, which he did when he stood up from the kitchen island.

“Come on them,” he waved his hand, walking back into my living room as if it was his own.

“Huh?” I followed him, watching as he swung open the front door and looked at me.

“We didn’t start practice yet, hustle,” he pointed out the front door, smirking when my jaw went slack. I knew the dancer wouldn’t have stayed that long without me, why did I still need to be there?

“Are the dancers there?”

“Nope, we told them to go home a bit ago,” he shrugged, still holding the door for me to leave but I didn’t move from where I was rooted on the floor of my sad lonely house.

“Why do I need to be there?”

“We can’t have practice without all members.”

I let the words roll over my shoulder, trying my best not to overthink them as I finally moved from the place in the house to the front porch. The sky looked cloudy like it would rain soon and I regretted walking everywhere in these moments.

“Come on (Y/N)!” Luke jumped down my stairs, smiling up at me with his hint of glitter in his eyes. I wish it didn’t get to me that much, but I took his hand and walked down the stairs like a princess.

“I hope I didn’t worry everyone too bad,” I spoke softly, I never wanted anyone to worry about me.

“I thought Alex was going to cry when Bobby mentioned you could have fallen, I didn’t even wait for anyone's word before I came running over,” Luke spoke dramatically with his hand, explaining the details of how everyone, even Heather, was worried when I never came to practice.

He spoke so widely it was nice, much nicer than the quiet sad house I had been sitting in for hours now. It was always nice to be around them, it was nice to feel something again since the ACL. They felt like dancing again, without the risk of falling.

“Well I’m fine, I was practicing turns,” I nodded, the walk through the cold breeze was nice, my ears enjoying the feeling of it most.

“Without anyone around?”

“Yes Luke, I was fine.” I rolled my eyes, he was the worst with this stuff. He was convinced every step I took would send me to the ground like I was a bird with broken wings. The only person who never panicked was Bobby, something I was grateful for at times. I had only fallen a handful of times and nothing serious ever.

“But what-”

“Didn’t you write a song called Now or Never?”

He nodded, his puppy dogs on full display as we kept the pace on the sidewalk.

“So what are you doing asking ‘what if’? You were the one who made me do this again.” I was the one speaking with my hands this time, trying to get through his thick skull I was going to be okay. He watched me closely as I spoke, never once interrupting me as I went on my rant.

“So what I’m hearing is I’m the reason you faced your fears,” he smirked, pointing at me with his pointer finger wiggling around. My jaw went slack, in shock that’s what he got from that.

“You all did-”

“Yeah but I was the real push,” I could see his ego growing already as he seemed to smile wider.

“Are you actually proud about pushing me when I might not have been ready?”

“Who’s talking about ‘what if” now?” He stopped, turning to look at me with his teeth biting on his bottom lip. I stopped to really look at him, taking in his features close up. Nothing else was said for a few seconds, both of us smiling as we continued the walk as if nothing happened. The silence wasn’t awkward but I just had to break it.

“Sorry about this again.”

“Not apologize, we all have our reasons why we don’t show,” Luke shrugged, both of us matching the other pace as we made our way on the sidewalk. We probably could have been walking faster but the atmosphere was so nice I didn’t want to ruin it.

“Yeah but it’s my parents and-”

“Trust me, I get bad home life,” Luke held his hand up, my apologies dying on my tongue when he looked over at me with a little titled head.

“My parents hate every time I leave for the band, they think I should be studying or something,” Luke went on, not thinking much about his words as he kicked rocks around on the sidewalk, his eyes never meeting mine.

“My parents are kinda the same, they want me to be a doctor or lawyer. It took them five days before they came to the hospital when I tore my ACL.”

Luke stopped in his tracks, I barely registered; he stopped walking before he grabbed my upper arm light;y. I turned slightly, catching the look in his eye.

“You were alone for five days?”

“I mean, I had the nurses.”

He didn’t say anything, pulling me into his chest. His arms wrapping around the back of my head, his scent overflowing my senses. I didn’t know what to do or say, my hand grabbing the front of his jacket and staying like that.

“Did you forget how to give someone a hug?”

I rolled my eyes, pushing him gently away as I kept walking back to the house. I couldn’t hear instruments so the boys must have been still waiting for Luke and me to return, properly worried sick.

“But really, I’m sorry you were alone.” I shrugged at his words, I was used to it. My parents just never came around, people had it worse and I suppose to make it easier to live my dreams without them watching me over my shoulder.

“Well, it’ll never happen again.” Luke skipped in front of me, smiling as we finally made it in front of Bobby’s house. I was about to turn down the driveway but I felt two arms wrapped around me, pulling into someone's chest. I recognized the pink hoodie and smiled, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“Why does he keep one in return?”

“I thought you were bleeding out on your floor,” Alec's panicked voice broke my heart, slowly pulling back from him with my bottom lip out.

“No, Luke saved me from my own homework,” I looked around Luke, winking at him while looking back up at Alex.

“Move, I wanna hug!”\

Alex was roughly shoved from my arms replaced by Reggie, who pulled me into his side and almost whispered into my crown.

“You need a life alert,” he said with a sad voice. I felt bad for laughing at something he took seriously.

“She isn’t 87 Reg,” Bobby came to my other side, hugging me into his side without another thought.

“I’m fine, y’all are worry rats.”

I tried to move from Reggie’s grip but he didn’t let me go so I didn’t fight it, his arm staying around me as we all walked into the studio down the long driveway.

“As she said, I saved her,” Luke pointed to himself, walking over to pick his six-string off the stand with a proud smile.

“My hero,” I smiled widely, watching the way we both forgot the world's existence for a single second, a single second of bliss.

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