#I will listen for hours about their problems but Jesus I ask you to listen to one time im overwhelmed and overly anxious and everything else | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stylesparker · 1 year

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closer than friends

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

WARNINGS: season 1/2 era, friends to lovers, sweet love confession, Dean being Sam’s wingman

A/N: my first supernatural fic is finally here!!! It’s been a long while since I’ve had the motivation to write, and I’m so glad I was able to get this out and share it. Please reblog if you enjoy!! <33

"How many times are you gonna shift in your goddamn seat, woman, jesus christ." Dean glances over at you from the wheel for the fourth time, watching you rub your eyes and knock your shoulder into the side of the Impala's door again.

"It's not my fault the passenger seat isn't made for comfortable napping, Dean."

You hear Sam chuckle from over your shoulder; this makes you look back to find him comfortably nestled into the corner of the backseat with his sweatshirt tucked in the crook of his neck so he can lean against his door without discomfort.

You huff, "I don't want a word from you."

"Says the girl who called shotgun and fought for the front seat all morning."

"What did I just say?"

Dean rolls his eyes, "Okay, knock it off. We're finding a place to sleep tonight."

While Dean focuses back onto driving, you try your hardest to find a suitable position that would allow you to sleep for awhile up until you guys made it to whatever hotel you were staying in for the night. You'd like to blame the Impala for your sleep deprivation, but you've slept in it before just fine, so you know the car isn't the problem. Even though you're going on just over 36 hours of no sleep, your mind won't shut off. The events of the case you were working on for the past couple of days play like a movie in your head, reminding you of how it ended over and over again.

You swallow quite harshly, and shift in your seat again. Something soft smacks the back of your head and you whip around to see what Sam's hit you with, but it's just his sweatshirt, and he's already leaning against the side of the car like he was before, almost as if he hadn't moved at all.

You mumble out a quiet "thank you," and you don't bother to even listen for any sort of reply before you're stuffing his sweatshirt underneath your head and forcing yourself to go to sleep. It's not long before you hear Sam's soft breathing from the backseat signifying that the boy has finally fallen asleep himself. You almost gave up until you saw Dean turn down his music just a little, side-eyeing you as he looked between you and the road.

"Is that better?" He asks.

"It was fine before."

"I'll keep it like this anyway."

You hum in response, and he goes back to humming his own tune to follow along with the music. With Sam's soft breathing in the back and Dean's low humming, you finally find something else other than your mind to focus on, which ultimately leads to your eyes lulling shut and you drifting off to sleep.

When your eyes start to peel back open again, the car is stopped and there's light rain patter on the wind shield. You lift your head causing Sam's sweatshirt to lightly fall into your lap, and at the same time the door opens revealing a slightly wet Sam waiting for you.

"C'mon, we're here."

"Slow your roll, Sammy, I just woke up." Your head lolls back onto the seat, and you let your eyes close once again, forgetting about Sam who's standing in the rain waiting for you to get out.

"Alright, let's go."

You shiver and grumble a slight protest as you feel his cold hands slip underneath your body to grab you and pick you out of the Impala. He knocks the door shut as he cradles you close to his chest as to not drop you, and as he locks the car. Your ear stays smushed against his front as he carries you, allowing you to feel the soft pitter patter of his heart beating in his chest.

"What time is it?" You mumble sleepily.

"Close to ten."

"That's it?"

"Yeah." You nod, not replying this time so you can nod back off in his arms. You're back to being fast asleep once again by the time Sam reaches the room Dean picked out for you, and he tries tucking you into your bed as gently as possible so he doesn't accidentally wake you up. In the short process you only mutter something unintelligible to Sam's ears as he finishes pulling the blankets up, so he ignores it and kisses you on the forehead, bidding you a good night before he retreats back to the room he's sharing with Dean for the night.

It's much later when you're rudely roused from sleep by a nightmare; you sit up straight in the bed with your hands by your sides clawing at the sheets, your eyes wide and unfocused, much too scared to figure out where you are or how you've gotten there. It takes a second to realize you're in a motel room, and now, the sheets that were once neatly laid over your body are haphazardly thrown towards the end of the bed, practically hanging off and hitting the floor. You take a shaky deep breath in and out, taking your trembling hand and placing it over your heart in an attempt to regulate it.

After a couple minutes your breathing is sort of back to normal, but your shakiness hasn't stopped. At that point, you're aware you won't be falling asleep again anytime soon, so you sit up further and throw your legs off the bed to go and find something to busy yourself with. In the corner there's a chair that you notice has your bag on top of it, and there's a small table next to it with a notepad. Your curiosity pulls you towards it, and when your feet reach the table, you're able to make out Sam's sloppy handwriting.

If you need us. - S

Next to the writing is a key card, which you can obviously assume is the one to their room. You pick it up and turn it over a few times, debating on whether this dream was something worth needing them for. In your head, needing was the same thing as bothering and it was never used as a positive term. But you know that if you spend another minute in that bed you might actually start crying and drive yourself crazy over the dream, so you take your chances and hope one of the boys will let you sleep in their bed or at least talk to you for awhile and get your mind off of it.

When you open the door and step outside, you become acutely aware of the cold air on your arms and legs rather quickly, and you begin to wish you were wearing a sweatshirt instead of one of Sam's shirts and a pair of shorts. The chill encapsulates you, making you hasten your step towards the room down the hall with the number specified on the key card. Once you make it to the room, you're pushing yourself up on your tip toes because, despite your sock covered feet, the ground is still horridly cold and you're hoping to get off it as soon as possible. Although, you find yourself unable to let yourself in once you find yourself standing in front of the door. You give it a good five minutes before you work up the nerve to finally pat the key card on the handle to allow yourself in the room. Once you've pushed open the door a crack, you're able to perceive a bed-side lamp turned on, and Sam leaning against his headboard next to it.

His head snaps up from his book at the sound of the door being pushed open, but he relaxes when he realizes it's you.

"Hey," he says softly. He's in the brown sweatshirt you were passing back and forth earlier, and he's weirdly still in a pair of jeans, but at this point you're used to seeing Sam and Dean wearing their jeans to bed.

"Hi," you respond back, even softer.

Sam likes to think he's pretty good at perceiving your body language, especially after knowing you for so long; so when he notices your trembling hands, your flushed cheeks, and your frantic eyes, he knows that you've had a nightmare.

He's not gonna ask why you're there since he knows why, so he only pats the side of the bed next to him and asks, "You wanna' join me?"

You're quick to nod your head and cross the room to join him, and it's only then when you're on the bed that you notice Dean isn't in the other one.

"Where's Dean?"

"Oh, he left to drive around. He's probably at a bar, or sleeping in the car somewhere." He says casually.

You hum, "Couldn't sleep?"

"Neither of us really could. He asked if I wanted to come with, but I didn't really feel like leavin'." Sam left out the fact he didn't want to leave you here alone, since he doesn't like leaving you anywhere by yourself. Dean doesn't either, but he doesn't get fussy over it like Sam sometimes does when you fight them on it.

"I can't either," you say quietly.

With some of your hair dangling in your face and your flushed cheeks, you look sort of delicate in Sam's eyes. You look sad, but when you look at him you have a gentle smile covering your lips, and when you look away your mouth curves downward again, only slightly, to where you might think he won't notice, but he does.

Sam's always stayed observant of you, even when you think you're the one who takes all the mental notes of him.

He reaches out, lifting the hand closest to you and letting his palm rest gently on top of your shoulder.

"You okay?" He almost looks like a puppy when he asks, and it's pitiful. For you mostly because he's cute, but why should he look like that when you feel like you're gonna start crying any minute.

You don't even want to answer because if your mouth opens you're either gonna say you're fine, or words describing the terrors you experienced in your sleep are going to come pouring out of your mouth and you won't be able to stop until you're a sobbing, pitiful mess and you could not handle being that way in front of Sam.

You couldn't.

But looking at him looking at you so fondly, it's like he's trying to tell you he'll comfort you the only way he knows how and he's gonna fix all your problems with a touch or two alone. Like the way he wants to hold you will melt all your fears into nothing and the way he wants to kiss you will make you forget any of it even happened. His eyes speak more than words could express in this moment and you don't even care if you seem desperate, or needy, or anything really. You allow yourself to fall forward into his awaiting arms, and when your head meets his chest, you can't help the first sob that escapes your lips.

You sound so tired, and the way that you're crying so harshly makes him feel like you're tearing yourself apart inside, like each breath is ripping off another piece of your heart.

"Honey..." he breathes out gently, wrapping his one arm around your neck and his other only comes up about half way so he can hold your head close to him under his chin. You've fallen completely into his side, your head against his chest and one leg practically in his lap, but he doesn't seem mind. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

You consider it for a moment; you probably would feel better opening up to him about the case you just worked, considering he was also there and knows how hard it was, but you also know opening up to Sam makes you feel close to him. Intimate almost. You’ve never been one to share your thoughts or feelings generously, and you think that must have just came with the messed up childhood, since Sam and Dean are pretty much the same way. But as the years went on, the boys got much better at opening up to you than you did them. Although, if there was anyone that could get you to talk, it was Sam.

Today, you decided, would not be one of those days.

You shake your head, "I'm okay, I'm okay. I'll be fine." You know by his soft sigh that he doesn't believe you, but luckily he doesn't push it. "Can we just stay like this for a little while?" You whisper shyly, despite knowing he wouldn't say no to you.

"Yeah," he strokes your hair softly, "Yeah, of course."

You lay comfortably against him as he slowly but surely calms you down, holding your head and rubbing your arm gently as you let out sad little sniffles. Once you've relaxed, you murmur something into his chest that he thinks might have been a thank you, but before he can ask you've already fallen asleep.

About an hour later after the two of you have fallen asleep, Dean unlocks the door and enters the room slightly shitfaced but more so tired. He freshens up in the bathroom so he doesn't wake up feeling even worse in a couple of hours, and he doesn't even notice you're there until he's trudging out of it, eyes wide and feet frozen to the floor as he takes in the image of you and Sam cuddled up to each other in Sam's bed. He manages to put his fist against his mouth just in time to cover up a surprised laugh, taking in the sight of his little brother in the same bed as their best friend.

"This is gold." Dean smiles mischievously, pulling his phone out of his pocket to capture the moment. "Just friends my ass." He mutters.

...

"Dean, if I have to hear you say that girl's name again one more time, I'm going to chop your head off. I don't care how good she was at su-"

"Alright, alright, let's quiet down shall' we?" Sam pats your shoulder and looks around the cafe to see if anyone heard you bickering with Dean about last night's one night stand. Dean laughs loudly as he lets himself into the corner booth that the three of you chose while you were walking in.

"What, you nervous someone's gonna hear us, Sammy?"

"It's 8 in the morning, Dean. Let's be a little respectful."

You hide your giggle, "Yeah, Dean."

Dean rolls his eyes, glancing at Sam as he ever so casually throws his arm over the back of the seat behind you, looking at the side of your face to see if you've taken notice. You're picking your nail, completely oblivious. He almost rolls his eyes again.

"Well," Dean straightens up, "Let's see what we have on the menu today."

"Don't act like you're not going to get the same exact thing you get every day," you comment, not even looking up from your nail.

"What's with the attitude, sweetheart? Didn't sleep well?" Sam's smile quickly turns to an annoyed frown as he makes eye contact with Dean, silently sending him daggers to keep his mouth shut.

You squint your eyes at him and open your mouth to come back with a retort, but the waitress walks up before you get the chance to say anything.

"Are y'all ready yet, or would you like a few minutes?" She asks kindly.

"Can we have a couple more minutes?" You say, since the three of you haven't even taken a look at the menu yet. She nods and retreats, leaving you alone with the boys once again. Sam and Dean grab their menus and you quickly realize there isn't a third, so you go to call the waitress back, but Sam nudges you just before you do.

"It's fine, just share mine." You huddle close next to him, resting your chin on your hand as you survey the food options as Sam does the same. He's so close his hair just so slightly grazes the skin of your cheek. Dean raises his eyebrows when he notices Sam's leg has started bouncing and he covers up his laugh with a cough just as he did last night, busying himself and acting clueless as the two of you look up at him.

"You alright?" You ask jokingly.

"Yup, totally fine. You guys ready yet?"

"Yep. How about you, Sammy?" He clears his throat and doesn't say anything, but he nods his head in response, which has you eyeing him weirdly. You choose to ignore it and let Sam order for you while you kick Dean under the table to stop being flirty with the nice waitress, and he only winks at you before he gives his order too.

When the waitress departs from your table, Dean lets his eyes follow her just for a second before he's turning back to the two of you, and he gets this questioning look on his face when he realizes the two of you are blankly glaring at him with the same narrowed eyes.

"What," he throws his hands up in defense, "I can't admire a good-looking woman?"

You and Sam glance at each other with a knowing glance right before you look back at Dean and say, "What's with you today? Why are you acting so..."

"Strange." Sam says. He leans forward on the table, "Why do you look like you're up to something?"

"Huh? Me?" Dean points to himself, "I'm not up to anything. I'm just being plain old me."

"Yeah, sure." You laugh him off and start a side conversation with Sam that has the two of you forgetting about Dean for the moment. Dean always knew Sam liked you; it's so obvious, at least to him. But he wishes he'd realized before how clearly obvious you are too. He doesn't know if he wants to throw up or throw a party.

...

A couple weeks later

"One or two rooms?" The lady asks.

"One please." Dean replies, handing the lady one of his debit cards that probably had some weird made up name on it. When Dean turns around with his debit card and the key in hand, you and Sam are looking at him weird like a couple of toddlers.

"Really? One room? Since when have we done that?" You questioned.

"Since you and Sammy boy over here started sharing a bed every night. I'm not gonna pay for two rooms when you don't use yours." Dean quickly catches on to how he's embarrassed the two of you so he adds, "and besides, I'd rather you stick with us anyway. Keep the team together." He pats your shoulder with a smirk and leaves the two of you behind. Sam spares a glance at your face and he's a bit surprised to find that you're just as taken aback as he is, but you don't say anything and you follow Dean rather quickly.

The three of you head back to the Impala to grab your bags before heading to the room, and when you go to take out yours, Sam slides in front of you and grabs his in one hand, and yours in the other.

"Sam." You say impassively.

"Yeah?"

"I am fully capable of grabbing my own bag."

"Oh I know. I'm just getting a quick work-out, since you know, your bag is like 50 pounds from all the clothes you carry.

"It is not, I barely bring anything with me!"

"You might be right, but if I may ask, how many of the shirts in here are actually mine?"

You pretend to think, "Um, probably like two. Maybe three."

A wide grin spreads across his face as he laughs at you, "Now you're lying! Half my wardrobe is in here!" Sam pushes the cracked door open with his behind and holds it open for you, standing to the side with his foot on the door. Dean's bag is at the end of his bed and he's already crashed on the bed nearest to the door.

"Hey, it's not my fault your clothes are more comfortable than mine! I don't know who decided that men deserve softer clothes."

"Well, in that case," he dropped the bags, "be my guest."

"Oh, how sweet. I like how you think you had any choice in the matter."

"Haha, very funny. Do you want the first shower?"

"You can take it, I had it the other night. Besides, I need to figure out which shirt I'm stealing tonight. I was thinking of the blue one, or actually, maybe the green-"

"Oh my god, I'm leaving." He rolls his eyes, but you can see the amused smirk on his face as he heads to the bathroom, and gently closes the door behind him. You giggle to yourself as you pull out his blue shirt from your bag and a pair of pants since it's a bit chillier tonight.

He's out of the shower pretty quick, and when he emerges from the steamy bathroom, you're next to Dean's bed whacking him repeatedly with a pillow.

"I told you to stop snoring!" You yell at him.

"Hmph, stop hitting me, crazy woman!" He mumbles sleepily at you. You stop hitting him when you notice Sam watching you, and he wants to laugh at how cute you look, like some kid who's got caught doing something they're not supposed to.

"What, he was bothering me."

He smiles, "I don't doubt it."

He doesn't realize that you froze mainly because he came out in a pair of sweats and no shirt, with his hair dripping wet and a towel around his shoulders. Dean peaks his eyes open and grumbles when he notices the way you're looking at him. You hear Dean, which breaks you out of your temporary trance.

You drop the pillow and give him a sheepish look, "I'm gonna- I'll take my shower now." You nod, promptly leaving the room after you grab the clothes you had set out on your bed. Sam watches you leave, more than a bit confused might he add, suspicious of the way your mood had suddenly changed. Once he hears the water running and the curtain pull back signifying you're in the shower, and can no longer hear him, he settles on the bed and asks Dean a question.

"What happened?"

"You happened, you idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. I'm sick and tired of watching you two pine after the other when you clearly love each other, so for gods sake- no, my sake, tell the girl you love her and get on with it!"

Sam's face is hysterical, and if Dean weren't so tired right now he'd be laughing, but he's exhausted in more ways than one, so all he can do is shut is eyes and hope his little brother makes a move on the girl who's been his practically since the day they met her.

"D-Dean... I can't just-"

"Yes you can, and you will." Dean finalizes. "At this point I'll just do it for you. It's unbearable." Sam huffs loudly, flopping back onto the bed.

He lays there and stares at the ceiling for awhile until he hears his brother's soft snores coming from the other side of the room; when he sits up and runs a hand through his hair, he hears the shower turn off and your light humming become more audible.

He takes a final deep breath just as you walk out of the bathroom with your hair combed nicely and your warm pajamas, perfectly ready for bed. Not exactly ready for your best friend to confess his undying love for you. He wants to crumble at the sight of your smile.

"You okay?" You ask gently. "You look a little pale."

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he waves you off, "When am I not fine?"

You laugh softly, "Do you want me to answer that?"

"Actually no." He gives a soft laugh of his own before his eyes land on his brother again, thinking over the words that were spoken to him just minutes prior to you walking out of that door. You were so near, so close to their conversation, and you have no idea. He can't help but think that maybe you'll be taken aback, shocked beyond belief, or traumatized enough to the point you yell at him and leave him for good. Or, maybe... possibly... there's a small chance you do feel the way that Dean says you feel, and in just a few moments the entirety of your relationship will change. Well, no matter what it'll change.

He just hopes it's what he feels it might be.

Sam's face snaps up to you quickly, like he's just had a sudden thought, and his eyes hold yours for a beat too long before he asks, "Can we go outside for a second?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." He gets up and takes long strides towards the door, you just a foot behind. He opens it and leaves it open for you to slide through, and he's standing there with his hands in his pockets facing away from you. You give him a questioning glance, but he doesn't see it.

"You have the key?" You query.

"Um..." he pulls out the card in his hand to make sure and you giggle at him, but he just nods, putting it back in his pocket, gulping strangely, "Yeah, I got it."

"Okay." You whisper softly, closing the door quietly behind you. You're silent for a moment, giving him a second to see if he'd speak first, but he doesn't. "You okay, Sammy?"

"I'm in love with you."

Not even a beat later, those words exit his mouth, and everything changes. The atmosphere that was once light, comfortable, and knowing, has shifted to one of fearful eyes, harsh breaths and unspeakable tension. His hands, once unafraid to grab hold of you, now remain glued to his side, flexing and itching to reach forward and touch your skin. His heart is beating so fast he feels like it's getting torn out; each individual piece of it being sliced and picked carefully from his chest as if he were on an operating table.

He can't tell if the look on your face is fear or shock. Probably both. But he doesn't know if it's good or bad and it's scaring him.

"Say something." He breathes out, with a drop of desperation.

Your mouth, hung open for a brief amount of time, now closes, and you gulp just like he did before he uttered those five little words.

"What did you say?" you murmur, looking like you just got pulled from space.

He repeats himself. "I'm in love with you."

You don't say anything again, but he continues.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to say that." He interrupts himself with a laugh, a scared, almost detached sounding laugh, but one nonetheless. You stare at him as he goes on. "For weeks I've had these moments where I look at you and all I can think about is telling you how I feel, but then some part of me ruins it and then I forget about it until you do something again that makes me want to say it again."

"Which, I swear is every two seconds because all you have to do is look at me with those eyes and all I want to do is grab your face and tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me and how I can't stand sleeping next to you one more night without you knowing that I can't sleep without you anymore. I need you by my side, tucking your head under mine. It's not that I can't because I could, but I don't ever want to again. I could live a hundred lifetimes, all of them with you in them, but if you weren't mine, if you were someone else's, I wouldn't dare live another."

When he notices the tear streaking down your face, he finally reaches forward to hold your cheek in the palm of his hand. Your own comes up from your side to grip tight onto the wrist that's holding your face, and he can tell that you've noticed he's shaking.

"Sam..." Your voice comes out unsure, "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure?" He questions you, giving you an incredulous look. "Sweetheart, I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

You're holding onto him so tight, he just knows what you're going to say next.

"I love you." You thought it would come out a whisper, but it sounds stronger than you expected. You close your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Sam, I love you so much."

His smile is brighter than a thousand suns, and his forehead drops against yours, staying there as you breath the other in; this new confession bringing in a wind of fresh air that has you feeling like you've both earned a pair of new lungs.

"I thought you might say that." He utters quietly, making you laugh and hit his chest lightly.

"Oh, shut up. Then why were you so scared, dumbass."

"I was confessing my love for you, either way I'm gonna be nervous!"

You smile cheekily, "Your love for me..."

"Don't act like you didn't know." His other hand comes up to hold the other side of your face, tilting your head up more to see you clearly.

"Maybe. But I had my doubts too." You confess.

Sam shrugs, "Well, without Dean I probably wouldn't have said anything for another decade, so-"

Your mouth drops open, "You finally gained the courage because Dean forced you to?" Sam stays still as you gape at him, and he smiles nervously.

"Does it help if I was thinking about it first?"

"Oh my god." You groan dejectedly and drop your head forward onto his chest. He holds the back of your head as he shakes with laughter.

"Okay, okay, be mad at me, whatever. Am I getting my kiss now?"

"Who said you were gonna get one at all?"

"Don't mess with me."

"I wouldn't dare."

...

The next morning, Dean groggily peels his eyes open to the morning sunlight peeking out of the curtains, and grumbles, questioning the time. It's around 8 am, which surprises him because he would have expected you or Sam to have woken him by now. At the thought of you guys, he turns over and manages to find himself alone in the dingy motel room. The bed covers are torn from the top of the bed, more settled towards the end of it, showing that you guys obviously slept in it, but there's no sign you or Sam are even still here.

Suddenly, he hears the low growl of his Baby pulling up outside, making him swing his legs out of bed and trudge over to the door. He swings it open, getting ready to yell at the both of you for going anywhere without him, even if it was breakfast, but his eyes widen and his jaw drops at the sight he's seeing.

You and Sam are standing close together near the trunk, leaning against the side, but mostly the other. Sam's hand, that isn't holding the grocery bags, is holding your hip, and you're looking up at him with a mischievous look in your eye. Sam says something which conjures up a giggle out of you, which then has Sam smiling brightly at the sight of you. He leans down and kisses you straight on the lips, holding you there for a moment before he pulls away to catch his breath. Both of you stand there, unaware of Dean's eyes on you, but neither of you would even really care if you did.

Dean's shocked expression turns to one of accomplishment. He nods, satisfied, and smiles like his brother just did. He sighs.

"Kids."

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester #supernatural

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torakowalski · 2 months

Text

Continued from here but heading all the way back to the beginning. (Not yet) Olympic Swimmer Steve, Hawkins Public Pool, summer 1986:

Eddie isn't a natural swimmer, but he has to find some way to regain the strength those fucking bats took. So when he finds out that Steve and Max are both doing their physio in the public pool, he blows Wayne's mind by demanding he goes to Melvalds and buys Eddie some swim trunks.

Not that Eddie is a follower. But if the rest of Team Rehab is in the pool, then Eddie is gonna be in the pool too.

The problem is that now Eddie is in the pool. He's wet, he's exhausted, and he's wearing nothing except what's basically soaked, clingy underwear, while Steve fucking Harrington looks majestic and gorgeous, swimming lengths not ten feet away.

"It's better through binoculars," says Max. She's sitting on the edge of the pool, even more tired out that Eddie is. Eddie is half taking a break and half making sure she doesn't slide off the side and drown.

"Hm?" Eddie asks.

"Steve. Shirtless. It's hotter through binoculars."

Eddie has one second of limb-freezing, stomach-tightening terror, the same second he always gets, no matter whether someone is being too perceptive or whether he's deliberately outing himself.

He makes himself breath through it.

"Jesus Christ, Maxine," he says and gets kicked in the back for his troubles. He'd like to think the kick is gentle because she's worried about his injuries, but it's probably just the hardest she can kick, right now. "Maybe I'm looking at his form."

Max laughs. "Well, yeah."

Eddie gives up. He looks over his shoulder at her. She has the expression of a person who is cool about you being queer and also wants you to know that she's cool about you being queer and also is fifteen and doesn't want to have fucked up.

Eddie makes himself be brave back. "Is it me or is he just getting more built, while you and I flounder around over here, just trying to regain any muscles at all?"

"He's here like, all the time," Max says. "Like hours before us and hours after we go home. He says it turns his brain off."

Eddie can kind of see that; it's definitely harder to think about all the shit that went down at spring break when you're busy trying not to get chlorinated water up your nose.

"Doesn't he have his own pool though? I'm damn sure he has his own pool."

Max shrugs. "I think it got earthquaked." She lifts her head, using a hand to shield her eyes. "Hey, who's that?"

Eddie looks where she's looking and sees a middle aged dude in red swimming trunks and a white t-shirt squat down at the far end of the pool, catching Steve's attention when he surfaces after what must be his fiftieth length in a row.

They're too far away to hear what's being said, but Steve pushes his hair back off his face and bobs in place, clearing listening hard. They talk for a while, long enough that Eddie and Max both start shifting, Max - like Eddie - clearly wondering if they need to stage a rescue.

Then the guy nods to Steve and stands up, walking away, while Steve turns, looking around.

When he spots Eddie and Max, he swims over, all long, and golden and wet.

"Who was that?" Eddie asks, when Steve pops up next to them. "Trouble?"

"No." Steve shakes his head, clear drops of pool water flying from the ends of his hair. "No, he's a swim coach here. He says I'm good."

"Duh," says Eddie.

"You know you're good," says Max.

Steve grins. He does know he's good; it's written all over his face. But so is some bafflement and Eddie doesn't think that's faked.

"Yeah, but like, he wants to train me. He thinks I could compete?"

"Like at the Olympics?" Eddie asks, not totally sure where else swimming people go to swim.

Steve laughs, but only a little meanly. "Jumping a hell of a lot of steps there, Munson. But maybe State? I could maybe do State? I was supposed to be at tryouts last year, but." He shrugs.

"But Billy gave you a massive concussion," Max fills in for him.

Steve shrugs again.

Max kicks him, about as hard as she kicked Eddie. "You better have said yes to that guy or so help me I'll crawl after him myself."

Steve rolls his eyes at her, but they're sparkling. He looks excited, pleased in a way that Eddie hasn't seen for months. "Yeah," he says. "I said yes."

(Part three now here)

#steve harrington #swimmer steve #snippets #Stranger things #steddie

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bloodrvvvsh · 3 months

Text

Come Into My Bedroom. | Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Taking care of your lover’s long hair for him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Warnings: None! This is entirely nothing but fluff. Established relationship, pet names (sweetheart), long haired Reid, very brief mention of drugs

Word count: 0.6K

Notes: I am a lover of Jesus Reid and nothing can stop me. This idea came to me as soon as I woke up and I’ve been itching to write it all day since

You were humming softly along to the music that filled the air, Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now by The Smiths, as your fingers ran through the ends of Spencer’s hair. Spencer had always been such a The Smiths fan and you had grown fond of the band in the time of you two dating.

He was sitting between your legs on the floor while you sat on the couch. He turned his head, peering over his shoulder at you. “Are you sure about this?” he asked softly and you couldn’t help but beam a smile at him.

“Of course I’m sure,” you replied. In reality, you had been dreaming about doing this ever since his hair got long enough.

You adored his long hair. He looked so handsome with it in your opinion. The only problem was that between his long case hours and now after being shot in the knee, he didn’t always have the time to take care of it properly. Lucky for him, you were there to take care of it for him.

You had helped him wash it, taking your time to really scrub his scalp and messaging the conditioner through his hair, and now after letting it dry, you were going to brush it. You continued to hum, a smile that hadn’t weavered since you began still on your face.

“Tell me if I'm hurting you, okay?” you said and he gave a small nod in response. Hairbrush in hand, you raked it through the ends of his hair.

The feeling of your hands in his hair never failed to get to Spencer. It didn’t really matter what you were doing - playing with the strands, washing it, brushing it, it didn’t matter. It all left a fuzzy feeling in Spencer’s chest.

You were probably the best thing that ever happened to him, ever. You were always so patient and kind with him, going out of your way to do such nice things for him. Like now.

He loved you more than anything.

“Did you know that each strand of hair can contain small amounts of fourteen different elements, including gold?”

“Oh, really?” You were one of the few people he had ever met that actually enjoyed listening to him ramble. He smiled softly, glancing back at you over his shoulder again. “What else?”

He shifted slightly, hands falling to his lap as he absentmindedly fidgeted with them. “Your hair contains everything that has been in your bloodstream, including medicine, drugs, minerals, and vitamins. Drugs can actually be detectable for approximately ninety days in the hair, while it’s generally only detectable for one to seven days in urine.”

“Wow,” you breathed out. “That’s kind of crazy, don’t you think?” You moved the hair hanging over his shoulders towards you and raked the brush through.

He could feel you tugging at sections of his hair, making his head tilt back slightly. “The average person has about 100,00 strands of hair on their hair. Blondes have the highest amount on average at 146,00, while redheads have the least at 86,000.”

“Sounds like a lot of hair,” you murmured. You were almost done, just a few more finishing touches..

“There!” you chirped as you finished tightening the ribbon. “I’m done!” You reached out for the mirror sitting to your left and offered it to Spencer. Your teeth caught your bottom lip as you watched his expression carefully.

He gently pulled the braid over his shoulder, running his fingers along the twisted strands of his hair, stopping at the pink ribbon tied into a bow at the end. A smile tugged at his lips at the sight. He glanced back at you once more and your heart nearly melted at the look on his face.

“It’s stunning, sweetheart,” he said softly and your grin split across your face so wide your cheeks began to ache. You cupped his cheeks in the palm of your hands and pressed your lips to his, sighing softly into the sweet kiss.

You were going to have to braid his hair more often.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fluff #Spotify

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mrs-bucky-barnes106 · 11 months

Text

bucky x reader

the one where you get locked out and go a-knocking on your sworn enemy's door in the middle of the night

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"Fuck!" You yelled, for what seemed like the millionth time that night. You should've listened to Wanda and stayed home instead of going to that stupid bar with that guy. Now, you were locked out of your house because you brilliantly left your keys in his car, and he left you when he said he was going to the bathroom.

You'd been out here for a half hour now doing everything you could to get in your house. You tried to pick the lock, break open a window with a rock, everything. You even walked around back and found a half-open window. You had never been more grateful for your forgetfulness. The only problem was that the window was on the second floor, a full twenty feet above where you stood.

It seemed your only option was to ask for help. All you needed was a ladder to climb up to that window, and everything would be just dandy. Sighing you tried to remember who in your neighborhood was actually home, and who'd let you in at- what time was it anyway?

10:45 P.M. Not bad. Nat and Steve were on vacation. Wanda wasn't here. Sam was away on work.

Shit.

The harsh realization struck you square in the chest. Bucky. The man next door. He was your only option in this dire situation. You hated to think of it, but he was your only acquaintance on this street, if you could even call him that.

You stomped over to his house, your very uncomfortably high heels getting sucked into the mud in his garden.

You made it to his door, steeling yourself to knock.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your knuckles rapped heavily on the door.

You stood there a minute, and when he didn't appear, you turned around, ready to walk away. He was probably sleeping, there was no use knocking anyway. Maybe you could just camp outside on your porch and wait for Wanda to get back.

Before you got very far, his deep rasp stopped you in your tracks. "Doll? What the hell are you doing here?" Bucky stood at the door, in all his bleary-eyed glory.

You considered bolting to save yourself the embarrassment.

No, you scolded yourself. You had already disturbed him, so the very least you could do was not stand there like a fool and instead, tell him about your troubles. It couldn't make him hate you any more than he already did.

"Doll?"

You turned around and gave him a small wave.

"Jesus-the hell happened to you? You look awful." You missed the concern in his eyes, only seeing the way they flicked down your body. You were suddenly embarrassed of the sequined dress you had chosen for the night. Not exactly something you wanted your most-hated coworker to see you in.

"Well, thanks," you rolled your eyes. "I- you know if you're just gonna stand there and tell me how bad I look, then forget it." You started to walk away.

"I wasn't- doll, wait. Why'd ya come?" He sounded earnest, almost concerned as he reached out for your wrist and gently grabbed hold of it.

"I- I need your help with something."

"With what?"

"I need help getting inside my house," you whispered, eyes cast downward from the shame that now consumed you.

God, how pathetic was this? Not only did you do the most idiotic thing you possibly could have in your entire adult life, but you went to Bucky of all people for help.

"With what? I can't hear you, c'mon speak up," his tone was commanding, and he sounded slightly irritated. His forehead crinkled, eyebrows scrunching down till his eyes were two thin slits, the blue orbs almost completely disappearing. Great, he was making you say it again.

You lifted your head up, staring into his eyes. The worst of it was over, you had come to Barnes. You spoke clearly, trying not to cringe at how stupid your situation sounded, "I need help getting into my house. Do you have a ladder or something?"

"The hell happened to your keys?"

"D-does it matter?!" You cried, exasperated.

"I- no, no, just come in, it's freezing out here and you look half-dead. And half-naked. Jesus, doll, do you not own anything warm?" Again with the insults. If you weren't desperate you would've showed him what half-dead really looked like.

You walked in after him, and were immediately struck with the realization that you had never been inside his house. And well, it looked...nice. Nicer than you expected for an old grouch like him. Huge murals filled two of the foyer walls, and everything was in pleasant, muted autumnal colors that somehow made him seem almost human.

"So where's the ladd...," you trailed off, realizing he was no longer in sight. Just great, he had left you by yourself immediately after inviting you in.

By this point, you were freezing in your mini dress, and all you really wanted was to just wipe off all your makeup and curl up into a ball of oblivion. Unsure if you were welcome to take a seat while you waited, you stood awkwardly in his foyer, shivering slightly because, of course, he had the thermostat turned all the way down.

"Here," Bucky reappeared suddenly, handing you a soft blanket and pillow.

"W-wait I don't need a place to sleep just the-"

"Look, doll, it's now 11:00 and it's freezing out. Quite frankly, you're insane if you think I'm gonna let you go out there with a ladder to climb into your side window. So, just please shut up, go to the bathroom do whatever you need to do, put on the change of clothes I left you and just go. to. sleep."

Wait change of clothes? Wouldn't they be...his clothes? Why was he being so nice to you, and more concerningly, why did that make you feel warm inside??

"I- okay, thank you," you didn't know what else to say.

Why was he being so nice to you? Where was the Barnes that was condescending? The one that was annoyed by every little thing you did and hated your entire existence?

He led you upstairs to his bathroom where you wiped off your makeup and splashed some water on your face.

Walking out to his bedroom, you found the clothes he laid out for you. An oversized T-shirt you guessed was too small for him and gray sweatpants. They were huge, but oh so soft. They also smelled like him, woodsy with a hint of...was that sandalwood?

You put on his clothes, instantly engulfed in the fabric. You walked downstairs with the blanket and pillow in hand, finding the couch easily enough.

"What're you doing?" Bucky asked, walking into the living room with a mug.

"Going to sleep?" You frowned up at him as you started to position the pillow to your liking.

"I- Jesus, doll, there's an entire bed up there. The hell do you mean you're sleepin' on the couch?"

"It's your house, I'm not taking your bed away too!"

"You're not taking the bed away, just go lie down."

"No, I'll sleep on the couch, it's fine."

"Why are you being stubborn? I'm offering you the bed."

"And I'm declining." You crossed your arms without realizing that you were mirroring the pose he held.

He sighed heavily before asking, "Why don't we both take the bed then, will that make ya feel better?" He sounded as exasperated as you felt and before you knew it, he was ushering you upstairs, grabbing the pillow and blanket he provided you with earlier.

You entered his room and laid down on opposite sides of the bed, which was warm, and so soft. Of course, it smelled like him too. You made a mental note to ask him about his mattress later to get yourself the same one.

"So, uh, how'd you get locked out?" Bucky asked awkwardly, cringing at his attempt to break the silence.

"I left my keys in this guy's car."

"So you didn't ask him for them back?" You felt him turn his head to face you, but you remained staring at the ceiling.

"He drove away before I realized, so yeah."

"Oh, what an ass," he growled.

"Got that right," you chuckled. Then, you stopped yourself. Why did he genuinely sound upset? Was he being protective? No, that was silly. He could care less about you.

You swallowed, turning to face him, welcomed by the sight of his pretty blue eyes and the smirk that would forever adorn his lips.

"Why'd you let me stay?" You finally asked, voicing the question that lingered in your mind.

"Because you'd freeze if you slept out there," he stated plainly.

"Thought you'd enjoy it if that happened," you chortled.

"Eh well- I wouldn't be happy about it. Besides I didn't need that weighing on my conscious all night."

"Mhm," you smiled at him.

"So, what if I told you that I make great pancakes," he scooted closer.

"I would say I'd love some," you said, scooting a bit closer as well. "On one condition."

"What?" You felt his hand rest on your arm, and you let it stay there.

Before you knew it, you were blurting, "Stay here and hold me?"

"Course doll, c'mere."

You snuggled your way up to his chest and felt loving hands run up and down your arms, which then snaked their way down to your waist. He buried his head in your neck, inviting you to rest yours on his chest.

"G'night Bucky."

"G'night doll, sleep well."

You felt a feather-light kiss being pressed to your temple, not quite sure if you had dreamed it all up. In the morning, however, you were greeted with a stack of pancakes in bed...

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mariespen · 8 months

Note

hihiii can u write a very argumenty angsty story with rafe anything honestly i just need to read some good ass angst and ur angst is sooo good but yeah that’s if you write this or not that’s okay

rafe Cameron x fem!reader a/n: Hi!! Thank you so much for the request, seeing them makes me so happy :(( So sorry that this took me forever to write, I tried to write it a few times but couldn't embody what I was trying to say. This plot line helped me out honestly! I hope this was what you were hoping for. ILY!! content warnings: description of injury, mention of drugs, angst, arguing and yelling, swearing, happy ending bc I can't do angst without one

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Your face was pale with worry as you stood in the kitchen, trying to distract yourself from your growing anxiety. Your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, was known to get himself in trouble very often. Usually you would be there to pull him out of it, but Rafe had stormed out of the house in a rage around 5 hours ago, shouting something about his new dealer and you knew there wasn’t a word you could’ve said to stop him. You knew that for a fact because you’d been thinking about it since he slammed the door.

The music you were listening to was turned up almost all the way as you attempted to drown out any thought that you could have by using the loudest music you could. However, you had to turn it down because the intense feeling just added to your stress.

Sitting on the kitchen counter, you scrolled through the many texts that you had sent Rafe over the hours. There wasn’t any sign that he had even seen them and eventually they just stopped going through, a very blatant sign that his phone had died. Eventually you gave up, giving into your anxious tendencies and pacing around the house, your breathing panicked as you checked your phone constantly.

The front door slammed and you flinched at the sound, running out of the living and praying it was Rafe. When you looked at him for the first time that night, his face was bloody and sweat-ridden. His eyes were wide and each of his fists were red with blood that you could bet wasn’t his. Rafe’s hair was scattered and his clothes were torn in a few places, red staining the fabric.

“Rafe..” You said, watching as his dangerous gaze fell onto you.

“Don’t wanna talk about it..” He said, wiping blood from his nose and pushing past you with a grunt, “out of my way.” He said, rolling his eyes.

“What happened?” You asked, following after him. Your heart was pounding with anxiety and anticipation. Your breathing was still quick and panicked as you looked up at him again, wincing at the sight of his face.

“Told you I didn’t want to talk about it.” Rafe spat, putting out his arm to force distance between the two of you.

“No, you don’t get to do this!” You protested as he stormed away. The worry and concern turned into anger and resentment in your little heart as he gave you another cold shoulder.

“Fuck off, will ya?” He said, not flicking his eyes to you once as he spoke.

“Rafe..” You said softly again, trying to get a better look at his current state. “Jesus! Will you just-“ He said, swatting your hand away, “Just leave me alone!” He stared you down, his voice rising with his anger.

“Please, just tell me you’re okay.” You said breathlessly, starting to pace backwards.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” He said, turning to look at you full on, watching you wince at the sight of his injuries.

You stood back, the feeling of anger burning a hole in your gut.

“God, what is your problem?” You said, muttering your words so that he could barely hear them,

“What was that? What did you say?” He asked, almost like he was challenging you. Instinctively, you look a step back again.

“What is your problem?” You repeated, raising your voice, hesitantly accepting his challenge.

He laughed, a dry and mocking tone as he stared you down.

“What am I doing wrong?” You took a brave step forward, raising your voice, “I just want to help you!” “Stop! I don’t need you or your help.” Rafe shouted, taking an equal step and shoving a finger into your face.

“Fine.” You whispered, throwing your hands up in surrender and turning your back to him, walking out of the kitchen hesitantly.

You didn’t have a plan when you started to open the front door. Maybe you’d go to Kiara’s house and cry in her bed until the sun came up. Or maybe you’d go to JJ’s just to get Rafe back. God, he’d go crazy knowing that you went to JJ for comfort. You didn’t have to think about it for long, though, because you heard Rafe’s steps behind you.

“That’s not what I meant.” He said, closing the front door before you could leave as he started again, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You turned to look at him, his face still stern and threatening. In that moment, he had nearly lost his soft spot for you. “Why did you leave me?” You asked, your voice cracking as you reduced it to a pathetic whisper.

Rafe’s gaze softened as you watched his emotions flip around in his head. His tight knit eyebrows sunk down as he looked at your tearful eyes and his bloody lips pursed together with regret.

“Baby..” He whispered, slumping down to be closer to your shaking body.

“Don’t..” You whispered, your voice trailing off as you tried to back away, but you just couldn’t. Not when Rafe was looking at you like you were the only woman in the world. Instead, you took a step forward.

“I don’t want to do this, you know that, yeah?” He asked breathlessly, waiting for you to nod hesitantly before he continued, “Don’t want to hurt my baby girl.” Your heart broke he stared down at the ground, trying not to rest himself into your arms.

“Tell me what happened.” You said sternly with a gentle undertone, like a mother lecturing her child.

“I got caught up when I was with Barry and-“ You could tell he was lying by the way his ears turned a hot shade of red.

“Don’t lie.” You interrupted him, reaching up to touch his bloody cheek.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, relaxing into your touch.

“C’mon.” You said with a sigh, watching his face ease up as you spoke again, “M’gonna take care of you and you’re going to tell me what happened, yeah?” He rolled his eyes in a silent protest as he towered over you, eventually pulling back and letting you walk to the kitchen, following you closely.

You sat him at the kitchen island, wiping the blood from his cuts as you waited for him to talk.

“My new dealer gave me the wrong shit.” He grunted, trying to stifle a wince at the wound disinfectant that you were cleaning him up with. His voice was shaky when he continued, “Went to give him a talk and.. y’know.” You didn’t want to push him, so you nodded along with his words. After Rafe’s short truth, you sat in silence and finished bandaging what you could, wrapping his knuckles with different band-aids.

“I’m sorry.” Rafe said when you finished, looking up at you from his seat, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You offered, kissing the bandage on his cheek before helping him up, walking upstairs to your shared bedroom.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, m’kay?”

He groaned, eventually giving in and reluctantly agreeing.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

Adult Education Part 2 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake wasn't sure what he had done wrong, but the last thing he wanted to do was scare Jessica off. With a little bit of help, he manages to get a few minutes alone with her again. And all she does is effortlessly make him want even more.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jake was still perplexed the following afternoon as he listened to Maverick lecture about the efficiency of the modified fuel system in the F/A-18. He couldn't help but think that Dr. Reed would have done a much better job speaking on the topic. And looked cute while doing it.

He'd spent most of the night thinking about her, trying to determine where exactly he had fucked things up. It seemed like she was into him while they were at the bar. The cheap beers and peanuts at Chippy's let Jake know she would be relaxed enough to hang with his friends. And the way she looked and her PhD in physics let him know she would hold his interest. If he was looking for someone to date, it would be Professor Jessica in a heartbeat.

She was so charming and intelligent. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe it only took her an hour last night to recognize that Jake wouldn't be enough to hold her interest. She really went running for her office as soon as they were outside.

"Damn," he muttered once the aviators were all dismissed for the day. When he unlocked his phone, his browser was still open to the tab of Jessica's profile on the San Diego State University website. That little photo of her wearing her glasses and a blouse with the top buttons undone was really messing with him. He practically had the About Me section memorized by now, and she'd said nothing about a spouse. He went to close out of it, but he couldn't.

"Hey, you need a ride again today?" Bradley asked him, checking his own phone.

"Nah, I got my truck back this morning," he replied. "But thanks."

Bradshaw just shrugged and grunted in response, but then he was holding up his phone for Jake to see the screen. "My wife apparently has a message for you."

Sugar: Tell Hangman I ate lunch with Dr. Reed today. And she wanted to know if my sexy aviator husband happened to know another sexy aviator by the name of Jake Seresin.

Jake perked right up at that. "Mind if I text Dr. Tits myself?" he asked, and Bradley handed over his phone.

"Just as long as you don't call her Dr. Tits. Jesus, I'm shocked you're still alive."

But he wasn't listening. Rather he was already texting.

Hey, it's Jake. Did Jessica say anything else? After we had some beers at Chippy's, she kind of ran off. I'd like to see her again, but I'm not so sure she'd want to see me.

Jake sent the message and stared at the screen. "She might not be able to respond right now," Bradshaw was saying. "She's got a late lecture this evening." But the messaging app was telling Jake that she was in fact currently typing.

"Shh," Jake said, devouring the message as soon as it arrived.

Sugar: I told her I know you. Be thankful that I painted a much, much prettier picture of you than I could have. But she didn't say much else. However... she does have office hours until 7:00 tonight. Just so you know.

Jake groaned and handed the phone back to Bradley. Of course he was relying on help from the woman he had accidentally given a vulgar nickname. He didn't know what he should do. On one hand, he'd love to show up at Jessica's office and pick up where they left off. On the other hand, there was a good chance it would be awkward. But he wanted to know what he did wrong.

While they were at Chippy's, Jake had been thinking about inviting her to have dinner at his place one night. He thought about making her smile and laugh in his kitchen while he tried to convince her he was smart enough to keep up with the conversation. Imagining how it might feel to press his lips to her elegant neck.

"Yeah, I'm going," he grunted, checking the time.

"Going where?" Bradshaw asked, looking at him like he had two heads as they finally exited the deserted classroom.

"Visit your wife at work," Jake replied with a wink.

He just rolled his eyes in response. "Tell her I'll pick her up at 9."

Jake didn't even bother to change out of his flight suit. He'd only been out on the tarmac for a short period of time today, so the jet fumes didn't seem to be an issue. He grabbed his wallet and keys from his locker and rushed for his truck. It was already after 6 o'clock. Depending on traffic, he might not even make it to campus before Jessica's office hours ended. But what did he have to lose?

"Come on," he complained, merging with the congestion of cars leaving North Island. Everyone was creeping across the bay bridge, and Jake was watching the minutes tick away. When he was finally close to campus, he tried to remember where Bradshaw had parked yesterday. He cut down a side street and came out near the math and science building, but there was nowhere to park.

"Shit," he said, and then someone was pulling out of a spot further up the block. Somehow he managed to successfully squeeze his truck between two other cars, and he hopped out onto the sidewalk. He tossed his sunglasses onto the front seat before locking his truck, and tried to fix his hair as he walked toward her building. He could see Chippy's across the street, and he briefly wondered if she might head over there if he couldn't find her office in time.

When he tried to open the door to the math and science building, it was locked. He jiggled all the door hands, but none of them were open. There was a card reader off to one side, but no students in sight. "Fuck," he groaned. The building was probably only left unlocked yesterday for the mini lectures.

Jake started scrambling for his phone so he could call Bradshaw and get his wife's number. But then he saw her walking down the hallway inside, and he pounded on the door. She turned and looked at him with a cautionary glance until she realized it was him. Then she walked over and pulled the door open for him.

She grinned and said, "Just in time for office hours, I see."

"Thank you," Jake said, and he didn't even call her Dr. Tits. "I owe you one. For the information and for opening the door."

She just pointed him toward the row of elevators and said, "Dr. Reed's office is on the fifth floor, to the left when you exit the elevator."

"Thanks!" he called out as he practically ran to push the little up arrow. And now he was nervous. Why did he think this was a good idea? As the doors slid open, he registered that it wasn't too late to just go back to his truck and drive home. But as they started to close again, he found himself darting inside and pushing the number 5.

If he got completely shot down, then so be it. And if she was already gone for the day, then maybe he'd consider stopping by Chippy's and running the risk of having her bartender friend give him the third degree. But it would be worth it just in case Jessica wanted to talk to him again.

Fifth floor. He turned to the left and read all of the names on the doors as he made his way down the long hallway. And then he saw it on the placard on the second to last door on the left. DR. JESSICA REED, PHD.

The door was slightly ajar, and Jake let out a deep breath before he knocked.

"Come in."

When he pushed the door open and stepped inside her small office, he smiled. Jessica was sitting at her desk, writing something down in that red notebook he saw yesterday, and when her gaze slid up his body, her lips parted in surprise when she met his eyes. "Jake."

"Dr. Reed," he drawled. "I almost missed your office hours."

Her eyes were wide, and she nudged her glasses up higher on her nose with the backs of her fingers. "What are you doing here?"

Jake took a step closer to her desk, and she slowly stood. And hell if she wasn't wearing another cute skirt today.

She was eyeing him curiously, still waiting for an answer when he said, "You told me I could borrow your copy of the Journal of Propulsion Science. The edition with the information about Super Hornets."

"Oh," she whispered, her face falling a bit. "Right. Of course." She turned away from him and started to search along some shelves that were jammed with books and periodicals. His eyes roamed over the back of her body all the way down to her feet and her high heels. He watched as she pulled a few glossy journals out and turned to hand them to him. "Here's the Propulsion Science journal, and here are a few more that might interest you. I don't need them back. You can keep them."

Jake took them and immediately set them down softly on her desk without looking at them. "Thanks, but that's actually not the only reason why I'm here."

"Why else are you here then?" she asked carefully, and Jake wished there wasn't a large desk between his body and hers. He felt himself starting to hesitate again, but he was already in this deep. Might as well go all the way.

"Listen, Jessica. I was having a pretty great time last night at Chippy's." He was trying to gauge her reaction as he added, "You're beautiful, funny and smart, and hey, I'm only human. And I thought you were maybe feeling what I was feeling? And correct me if I'm wrong here, but I thought we were having fun? And it didn't even seem like you expected me to lay down my usual bullshit, which was really nice."

"Oh," she gasped. She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth before she said, "No. You're not wrong."

He shrugged at her, heart pounding as he asked, "Then what did I do wrong? Why did you run off?"

She laughed softly and looked down at her desk. "I nerded out so hard."

Jake grinned as the sheepish look on her face. "You must have been able to tell I was enjoying myself. God, I could have stayed at Chippy's with you all night long. You know more about my jet than I do, and I have the NATOPS memorized."

She ran her fingers nervously along the top of her desk as she looked at the stack of journals he was meant to take with him. As Jake planted his hands on his hips, she glanced up at him. "It's just too good to be true."

He shook his head slightly. "What's too good to be true?"

"You."

He raised one eyebrow, about to ask what that was supposed to mean when she said, "There's always a catch with the charming, good looking guys, right?"

"A catch?"

She licked her lips and pressed her palms on the desk, leaning a little closer to him. "I've been through this before. There's always someone else. A sexy naval aviator in his uniform shows up to my lecture and then flirts with me? Please. There's always another girl."

Jake was kind of stunned. "I would never do that."

But she still looked apprehensive as she said, "As soon as you started ignoring calls and messages, you said you had to leave."

Bradshaw. He was ignoring calls from Bradshaw who was trying to tell Jake to meet him at the Bronco. And he was only ignoring him because he didn't want to leave her at all.

When he didn't respond right away, she shrugged and said, "Figured it was your girlfriend calling you."

Jake made sure she met his eyes before he said, "I don't have a girlfriend."

She barely hesitated before asking, "Wife?"

"I don't have one of those either."

Jessica slowly pushed off from her desk so she was standing at her full height, lips forming a perfect, kissable pout. She looked a little embarrassed now as she messed with her glasses. "That's all really useful information to have," she muttered, picking up the stack of journals and walking them around her desk.

Her steps were intentional and deliberate, the little click of her high heels muffled in the small space. Even in those shoes she only came up to his chin, and she didn't stop until she was right in front of him. He could smell her shampoo or perfume. He could see gold flecks in her eyes. This time when she held out the journals, they grazed his flight suit. He took them in one hand and murmured, "Thank you."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, and Jake almost tossed the literature aside and pushed her against her desk when her fingers met the patches on his flight suit. He stood still against his desire to tilt her face up and press his lips to that pout. She looked good, and she smelled good, and Jake was convinced she would taste good, too. Then she glanced up at him, fingers still tracing his patch that said HANGMAN.

He cleared his throat softly. "What if I decide I want to return the journals after I read them? And what if I have some questions only an expert would be able to answer?"

She smiled and said, "Then I would implore you to find me and avoid Dr. Leeland and the rest of the physics department."

Jake laughed softly, but then she removed her hand from his flight suit, and he started to reach for her. But she was already turning toward her desk, tearing a page out of her red notebook. As she bent at the waist, Jake stifled a groan and rubbed one rough hand over his mouth. Her skirt rode up along her legs, exposing so much skin, he couldn't look away. Perfect, gorgeous skin from her bare thighs down to her ankles and those stupidly high heels.

He was definitely caught staring after she finished scribbling on the sheet of notebook paper and spun to face him. He wanted to ask her if she wanted another three dollar pint and some peanuts, but she folded the paper in half and handed it to him before he could gather his thoughts into a sentence that actually made sense.

He glanced down and saw that she'd written her office hours in her neat penmanship.

Dr. Reed's office hours for journal topic discussion:

Tuesdays 5:30 to 7:00

Thursdays 6:00 to 7:30

"I might be willing to stay late again. For you."

Jake looked up into her pretty eyes and tapped the sheet of paper. "Any chance you'd add your phone number for me, Dr. Reed?"

The soft smile and dreamy look she bestowed on him had him grinning like an idiot, he was certain. He wanted that phone number in the worst way. When Jessica's fingers ghosted along his patch one more time, she said, "Maybe I'll see you on Thursday?"

"Yes." Jake would make it a point to come back on Thursday.

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

Professor Jessica thought she nerded too close to the sun. And Jake really did give off some of the telltale signs of a man who is up to no good (including but not limited to looking hot in his uniform). Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 3

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atlabeth · 8 months

Text

(they all say that) it gets better | luke castellan

bleedin' me dry for context (this is that reader's origin story!!)

summary: a look into your unclaimed year.

a/n: does it still count as fluff if you already know it doesn’t end well? idk but i’m having fun writing for this pair so it’s okay. i hope you guys are enjoying reading them!! this ended up becoming a hell of a lot longer than i thought it would be but these kind of one shots are my faves to write lol

title from teenage dream by olivia rodrigo bc apparently guts teenage angst works very well for a demigod who feels like they're worthless and unwanted for a good period of time!! shoutout to the gods

wc: 11.4k JESUS

warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. typical anger at the gods, but luke is actually pretty sweet! crazy. mostly hurt/comfort, reader is going through it at the beginning (mentions of injuries and almost dying), honestly she's going through it the whole time but luke is very nice to her lol. barely proofread bc proofing 34 pages is a nightmare !!

It was your first day as a demigod and you were already off to a bad start.

You didn’t remember much, obviously. There was a lot of stumbling, barely held up by your satyr as you crossed the border, and then full on collapsing. Somehow you managed to stay conscious all the way to the infirmary, enough to hear shocked murmurs from the people-like blobs around you and terrified, whispered affirmations from your satyr as he ran along with whoever was carrying you.

You didn’t remember much. But you do remember thinking what a shameful existence it would be to die at fourteen.

And now you were sitting in an uncomfortable cot, staring at the wall and counting divots. The first half of your visit was only there in flashes as you drifted in and out of consciousness, but now, unfortunately, you were fully awake. You belatedly wondered how many other kids began their camp life with a stay at the infirmary.

The thought was dashed from your head as you jolted and cried out in sudden pain, and you shot daggers with your glare at the boy next to you.

“Sorry.” The boy fixing you up was about your age, and he almost seemed to glow from within. “You dislocated your shoulder—I was popping it back into place.”

“You could have warned me,” you seethed.

“I did,” he said, and when he placed his hands on your shoulder they actually did glow. “You just weren’t listening.”

“...Sorry,” you said after a moment. “I’m having a rough day.”

He shook his head with a slight smile. “It’s expected.”

“It’ll be okay,” your satyr said, and some of the tension left your shoulders as you looked over at Tate. He’d been by your side for the past two weeks of disasters, and you’d saved each other’s lives more times than you could count. You were just thankful he didn’t have to watch you die. “Jace is one of camp’s best healers. You’re in good hands.”

You nodded, not wanting to cause any more problems, so you bit your lip and bit your tongue and let him heal the rest of your injuries in silence. He was done soon enough, and you could feel both their eyes on you as you rifled through your backpack. Thankfully, Tate brought it in as you were dying. Your own blood stained the nylon.

“How do you feel?” Tate asked anxiously.

“Better,” you said, tearing your eyes away from it as you continued making sure all your belongings were still there. “A lot better. Not like there’s much competition.”

Tate chuckled, and Jace picked up a small bag from the bedside table and handed it to you—it looked like there were little pieces of fudge inside. “Here.”

“What’s this?” you asked as you took it.

“Ambrosia,” he said. “Wait a few hours before you have a piece, and only have a little if you feel a lot of pain. I already gave you nectar while you were out, and the last thing we need is you burning up.”

You looked at Tate with raised eyebrows and he smiled a bit. “Ambrosia and nectar are the food of the gods. It heals demigods in small portions, but take too much and you’ll get a fever. Worst case scenario, you’ll literally burn up from the inside.”

“Oh,” you said, and you stuffed the bag into your pack before zipping it up. “I’ll… I’ll wait.”

“Probably a good idea,” Jace said, and he looked over at your satyr as he stood up. “I’ve gotta get back to my sword-fighting lessons. Can you give her a tour?”

He shook his head. “I have to debrief with Chiron and Mr. D. There were some… rough things on the road.” Tate looked at you. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes— are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile. “Do your thing. I’ll look around some, then we’ll find each other later.”

Tate nodded thankfully and went through an open door opposite your bed, and Jace gave you a tight smile as he started to put away all the medical supplies he used on you. You sighed, slung your bag over your shoulder, and walked out.

You shut the door behind you and blinked rapidly as you tried to adjust to the sunlight. Then, you heard someone sigh.

“Thank the gods you’re okay.”

You turned to see a boy standing up from the wall. Dark curls hung just above his eyes, a contrast to his tanned skin, slightly red from exertion. He was wearing the same bright orange shirt that your healer was—Camp Halfblood, it said in curved text. He was far too pretty for his own good.

“I’m the one who carried you in,” he said, and you realized you were frowning. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” you said. “That’s… that’s nice of you.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve gotten someone new,” he said. “Even longer since they’ve had such a dramatic entrance.”

You shrugged. You didn’t exactly know what to say to this boy. “Sorry.”

He paused for a moment, and then he nodded. “Not one for conversation. That’s fine.”

“I did almost just die,” you said wryly. “I’m fresh out of icebreakers at the moment.”

“Maybe I can help with that.” He held out his hand. “Luke Castellan. Head Counselor of the Hermes cabin, and apparent rescuer of damsels.”

You huffed a laugh as you stared at him. “I’m a damsel?”

“I’d say you were in as much distress as someone could be back there,” he said with a shrug. “I practically saved your life. I think that deserves a handshake.”

The slightest bit of tension dissolved from your shoulders and you shook his hand. His smile grew.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, dropping his hand. “You were pretty rough when I found you.”

“Better,” you said, though you grimaced a bit as you tested your shoulder, and you decided to switch your pack to your other side. “Whoever that guy in the infirmary is, he’s good.”

Luke nodded. “Son of Apollo—they’ve got healing abilities. Very useful when we’re all constantly getting injured.”

Your brows knit together. “So it really is all real.”

“You were nearly dead on our doorstep, and from those claw marks I’m guessing it wasn’t just a bad fall.” Luke offered a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ve known it’s all real for a while.”

“Of course,” you said. “It’s just weird to really know that it’s all real. To see all of you, really. Just knowing I’m not alone.”

He nodded. “That’s the best thing about it, knowing you’re not alone.” He looked around at your surroundings—various campers chatting as they walked with each other (some glancing at you as they went by), distant shouts and cheers, and a perfectly blue sky matching the perfectly blue house you just left.

“I’d say the worst thing about it is feeling like I still have no idea what’s going on,” you said. “Unless the gods exist just to be deadbeats. That’d be disappointing.”

Luke actually laughed at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you found yourself smiling a bit. “I can tell we’re gonna get along.”

Your own smile returned—it was like his joy was infectious. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he nodded. “Just… try not to throw the gods’ names around like that. They don’t like to be talked about unless they’re being revered.”

You huffed. “Sounds like an interesting place.”

“Camp Halfblood,” he provided, and he gestured around you with his hand. “Keeping young heroes safe for over three millennia.”

“What,” you said wryly, “are you their PR guy?”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “It’s something Chiron likes to say.”

“You’re the second person to mention Chiron,” you said. “Who exactly is he?”

“You haven’t gotten a tour yet?”

You gave him a look. “Come on. You carried me in. You think I could have gotten a tour between then and now?”

“Fair,” he admitted, and he tilted his head. “I can give you one, if you’re so inclined.”

“I said I would wait for Tate,” you said. “He’s my satyr— I figure I owe it to him.”

“C’mon,” Luke said. “He’s meeting Chiron and Mr. D—that’ll take long enough on its own, and if we don’t get out of here soon enough, you’re gonna get dragged into a whole other conversation with them. At least this way, you can get a little bit of downtime before all the lore of this place is dropped on you.”

You bit your lip, and then you sighed and nodded. “Fine. But it can’t take too long.”

Luke smiled and held up three fingers. “Halfblood’s honor.”

You didn’t know where to start.

There were far more people than you expected, not nearly enough beds for all of them, and half were talking and a quarter were fighting and the others were just completely unfazed. All you could do when you walked in was stare.

“You get used to it,” Luke said, glancing over at you. “Everyone’s nice, I promise—just keep a hand on your pockets.”

You frowned. “Why?”

He gave you a crooked smile. “Hermes is the god of thieves. We learn by experience in this cabin.”

Your hands instinctively reached back to the pockets of your jeans, despite the fact that you hardly had anything to your name. “Why do they put the new, naive kids in here again?”

“God of travellers, too—all are welcome.” Luke saw your hand shoot to your pocket and laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone mess with you too much—for now, at least.”

“Oh, good,” you said lightly. “The hazing doesn’t start until later.”

Luke smiled as he continued to guide you through the cabin, nodding to and greeting campers with equal parts names and handshakes as he walked past them. You got just as many stares as Luke did hellos, and your skin crawled at the attention.

“Why are they all looking at me?” you whispered to him.

“Like I said, you’re the first new camper in a while.” Luke glanced at you. “News spreads fast, especially in this wreck of a place.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said , but your grip tightened on your backpack strap. “Just very busy.”

“That’s what happens when they shove everyone in here,” Luke said. “All are welcome means all are welcome—Hermes kids, unclaimed kids, and kids of minor gods.”

You frowned. “Minor gods don’t have cabins?”

“This place is as much for us as it is in honor of the gods,” he said. “Twelve cabins for twelve Olympians. They don’t see it as a problem, therefore we can’t see it as a problem.”

You decided to bite your tongue, but you couldn’t hide your sigh. “I guess I’m gonna be here for the time being.”

He looked you up and down, and all you could think was that you must look like an absolute disaster. “I’m guessing you fall into the unclaimed.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, a sad attempt at a smile. “Yeah, but I just got here—I bet my mom doesn’t even know it yet. Gods are busy.”

“They’re also omniscient,” Luke said wryly. “I’m sure she could have claimed you the second you crossed the border. Your parent could’ve given you a little divine intervention and kept you from nearly dying on the hill.”

“Well, I’m here for now,” you said with a bit too much force, and your nails dug into your palms. “So do you mind showing me around?”

Luke stared at you for a moment before he smiled. “‘Course not. I can also give you a quick tour of camp too, if you haven’t already gotten one.”

You shook your head. “Only the infirmary.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “you heal up well.”

“I don’t think that’s a credit to me,” you said. “I think it’s whatever magical drink that healer gave me while he was trying to bring me back. Tasted like pecan pie.”

“Nectar,” he said as he started walking, and you followed behind him. “Drink of the gods that heals demigods in small portions. It tastes like your favorite food—same as ambrosia.” He stopped in an empty corner and looked at you. “You like pecans?”

You shrugged, suddenly self conscious. “My dad makes it the best.”

“I hope you’ll be able to get the real thing soon,” he said, and then he gestured with a flourish at the same empty corner. “Welcome to your new home.”

You stared at him. “This is the floor.”

“We’re a little overbooked,” Luke said sheepishly. “If it makes you feel better, we’ve got sleeping bags. And this is a top tier corner. Quieter than the others.”

“…Great,” you said. “I feel very welcome.”

“I’m sorry.” To his credit, he sounded like he meant it. “Bunch of unclaimed kids, couple kids of minor gods, couple Hermes kids—it all kinda adds up to a mess.”

“...It’ll be better than camping,” you said, though mostly to yourself as you took your bag off your shoulder and let it thud to the ground.

“Hey,” Luke said, and his voice was softer, “it’ll be okay. With any luck, your parent’ll notice you now that you’re at camp, and you’ll be claimed before you know it.”

“I hope so,” you murmured.

“Luke, who’s the new girl?”

A boy with curls just as good as Luke’s walked up and clapped him on the back, smiling at you in a way that instantly set you at ease. He also wore the orange camp shirt, with long tan sleeves below that he’d pushed up to his forearms. He had kind eyes.

Luke said your name, his own smirk on his lips as he looked back at you. “You’ve probably heard about her dramatic entrance by now, but she’s the newest resident of the Hermes cabin.”

“Unclaimed or your sibling?” he asked.

“...Unclaimed,” you said yourself. You hadn’t even been here for more than two hours and it already felt like your own brand of shame.

He repeated your name with a nod and held out his hand. “I’m Chris,” he said. “Fellow unclaimed kid.”

A little bit less of a scarlet letter, at least. You swallowed your budding insecurity and shook his hand. “Sounds like a shitty club to be in.”

He snorted. “You’re telling me.”

“How— how long has it been?” you asked hesitantly, almost afraid to know the answer.

His lips pressed into a tight smile. “Couple years.”

“Gods,” you murmured. You didn’t know if you’d be able to wait that long. It had been hard enough already growing up without one—if your mother was just out of reach after all this time, you would surely lose your mind.

“Don’t worry,” Chris said, his expression softening a bit. “It won’t take that long for you. I can tell.”

“That’s what Luke said,” you responded wryly. “Do I give off a vibe that says ‘I’m unwanted, but not for too long’?”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “I promise, it’s all gonna be okay. I’ve been the counselor here for a couple months—kids get claimed all the time. I bet you’re next on the list.”

“Maybe,” you said. You didn’t believe it as much as they did—if they did at all.

You heard the door open and your head automatically turned to the noise, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment as Tate came through, slightly out of breath. You stared at Luke—he said thirty minutes at least. He just shrugged.

“I figured you would be here,” Tate said, his chest rising and falling just so as he walked—trotted?—inside. “You didn’t exactly wait.”

You opened your mouth to speak up, but Luke beat you, already putting on a charming smile. “Sorry. We got to talking, and then I offered to show her around the Hermes cabin. Just so she could put her things down, y’know.”

“‘Course,” Tate nodded. “That— that was probably a good idea. Would have been bad if you got lost or something.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you went to pick your bag up. “Luke said you would be talking for a lot longer— I was going to come back after I was done with this.”

Tate shook his head. That nervous energy from the worst parts of the road was back, and you wondered how badly the talk with Chiron and Mr. D went. “No, it was a good idea. Better than you getting lost around camp or caught up with some troublemakers. Thanks, Luke.”

“‘Course,” he said.

“Not sure she’s in much better hands with Luke,” Chris said wryly. “He’s head troublemaker in the cabin of troublemakers.”

Luke just chuckled and shook his head. “It’s her first day. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

You were only able to glance at Luke for a moment before your attention was drawn back to Tate as he gestured outside with his head. “Chiron’s waiting outside. He wants to talk to you some before the tour.”

And now you had to deal with it too. “...Great,” you said. You set your bag back on the ground, in your newly coveted corner.

“It’ll be fine,” Tate promised. “You already went through Hades to get here— he’s not gonna pile on you more. That’s why Mr. D is back at the Big House.”

This time, you did look at Luke. Thankfully, he understood.

“Dionysus,” he explained. “He’s our camp director.”

You blinked. “The god?”

“Yep,” he nodded. “Punishment from Zeus. Not the worst gig, but he’s… interesting.”

“Great,” you repeated, because you didn’t feel like processing that at the moment, and you looked back at Tate. “You’ll be with me, right?”

He nodded. “Not for the talk, but for the tour.”

You let out a loose breath, because it was going to be fine. He was just the authority figure of the one safe place in the world for you, and you were just an annoying kid that had no idea what the hell was going on.

“Great,” you said for the third time. You looked back at Luke. “I’ll see you around?”

He smiled and bowed his head. “Definitely. You do kinda live here indefinitely now.”

You nodded, more relieved than you wanted to show, and you started following Tate out.

You heard Chris mutter something to Luke, and you turned your head in time to see Luke jab him in the side. His head perked up when you laughed, and his whole expression changed as his smile returned and he did a little wave.

You couldn’t help but smile back as you did the same, and you left the cabin with a little pep in your step.

—

“You promise you’ll be safe.”

“Yes, Tate,” you said with a slight laugh. “The worst is already over—you got me here, and we’re both alive. I’m gonna be fine.”

“I know,” he said, and he managed his own smile. “I’m just worried about you. You don’t spend two weeks on the road fighting for your life with someone and not get a little attached.”

“You’ll be back here, right?” you asked. “I know your whole thing as a Protector, but you’ve gotta drop the demigods off too, right?”

“Of course I’ll be back,” he promised. “It… just might be a while. You’re the third demigod I’ve gotten to camp safely, now—Chiron’s trusting me with a bigger mission. It might be a couple months, but I’ll be back.”

“And you’re telling me to be safe,” you said wryly.

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” he said. “You just got here.”

“I know,” you said, and you pulled him into a hug. “Just don’t get killed out there.”

Tate laughed and patted you on the back before he pulled away. “So long as you don’t killed out here.”

“Thanks for everything,” you said with a nod.

“Thank you,” he said, and he gestured at the pavilion with his head. “Now get over there and make some friends. I’ll see you around.”

You hugged him one last time before you reluctantly went off, and you looked back to wave him goodbye before you really started on your way.

Your head still spun with all the information Chiron and Tate had imparted on you—so much about Greek mythology (and how it was all real), ADHD and dyslexia (and how they weren’t just there to make your life harder), your godly parent (who would hopefully claim you within the month) and so much more that you knew you would forget in an hour or two.

And Chiron’s talk. God, it felt more like you were in the principal’s office than anything, even though he was nothing but kind. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed from it all, and though the talk was probably meant to stave some of that anxiety off, it really didn’t.

But you’d always felt out of place all your life. And now you were finally where you were meant to belong—that had to count for something.

Tate had dropped you off at the pavilion—nearly dying had taken a lot out of you, and it just happened to be lunch—and just as you neared the tables and realized you had no idea where to sit, your eyes were drawn to a boy raising his hand and calling your name.

You looked over and saw that it was Luke, the counselor from earlier, and you couldn’t help but smile. True to his word.

You weaved your way through various campers and around tables full of kids to finally stop next to Luke’s table—Chris, the guy from earlier, sat across from him, and they both smiled at you.

“How’d the tour go?” he asked.

“Fine,” you said with a nod. “A little overwhelming, but better than I thought.” You pulled at your new camp shirt, the fabric noticeably brighter than a majority of those around you. “I match now, at least.”

“Orange suits you,” Luke remarked, and he patted the open spot next to him. “Sit down—stay for a while.”

You chuckled as you sat down. You still felt out of place, but at least they weren’t going to hang you out to dry. “Bright orange seems like an odd choice when we’re trying to stay hidden.”

“Probably so Chiron doesn’t lose us,” he joked. “This place is huge, and there’s a lot of us. When the newest camper gets turned around in the woods during capture the flag and nearly dies to a monster, it’s easier to find them.”

You frowned, and you must’ve not been very good at hiding your panic because Chris shook his head.

“Luke, you’re scaring her. She’s already been through enough.”

“Don’t worry,” Luke said, patting you on the shoulder. “Just a little halfblood humor. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you said wryly. “It feels like I nearly died four hours ago and now I have no idea who anyone is or what to do.”

“Not true,” Chris spoke up, and he smiled. “You know us.”

“I’ll look out for you,” Luke promised. “And pretty soon, you’re gonna be good enough to look out for me.”

You let out a long lasting sigh. “God, I hope so.”

—

“You’re not holding it right.”

You adjusted your hold on the hilt, resisting the urge to wipe away the bead of sweat dripping down your forehead and the even stronger urge to hit him.

“You’re still not holding it right.”

Your teeth grinded together as you turned to look at Luke. “Are you gonna actually help me, or just stand there judgmentally?”

“I dunno,” he said. “The weather’s pretty good over here.”

You groaned and moved your non-dominant hand closer to the pommel, shifting your other down as well. “Is this worthy of your approval, Your Majesty?”

Luke chuckled as he walked over to you, and you could feel the calluses on his hands as he adjusted your form with slight touches to your arms. “It is acceptable, my lady, but your posture is not.”

“I don’t know how so many people at this camp like you,” you grumbled. “This is awful, and so are you.”

He smiled. “You’ve been here for two weeks. Give yourself some grace.”

“I’ve spent one of those trying and failing at the most basic basics of sword-fighting,” you said. “I spent the past hour losing to an Ares kid who I’m pretty sure actually wanted to kill me.” You looked over at Luke. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Trial by fire,” he supplied. “You’re still alive, so obviously you’re doing something right.”

“Yeah, probably because you’re here,” you said. “You can’t just kill someone when their counselor’s standing right next to them. It’s bad publicity.”

Luke huffed a laugh and shook his head as he crossed his arms. “Stop talking down on yourself. You managed to make it here with a couple monster attacks on the way—what’d you use then?”

“I started off with a screwdriver I stole from the garage before Tate and I left,” you said. “And then I stole a hunting knife from some outdoor store. Not exactly top-tier.”

“Lotta stealing,” Luke chuckled. “Maybe you are a Hermes kid.”

“They nearly caught me,” you said. “Definitely not.”

“Regardless of thievery, you still survived,” he continued. “You’re not a bonafide swordsman, that’s fine. But you’re resourceful, creative—scrappy in a fight is just what we need sometimes.”

“Great,” you mumbled. “I’m ‘scrappy’.”

“It’s a compliment,” he promised. “If we were all sword-fighters, we wouldn’t get far. Someone like you is gonna do us a lot of good.”

“If I don’t die before I even get out to the battlefield.” You knocked the helmet off of one of the straw dummies with your sword and sighed as it clattered to the ground. “This is the only enemy I stand a chance against.”

“You’re thinking too much about it all,” Luke said. “You’re literally wired for battle—didn’t you feel it during your fights on the way to camp?”

You shrugged. You guess you did—you remember not even taking the time to analyze the situation, just knowing your lives were in danger and finally feeling the ever-present jitters in your bones settle for the first time.

“It was rough,” you finally said. “But… it did feel like I knew what I was doing. Like my body understood it all even when my mind was still a couple steps behind.”

“And that was without training, and with,” Luke huffed an incredulous laugh, “a screwdriver. Just imagine what you’ll be able to do with actual Celestial bronze and actual training.”

“…I think I remember why people like you,” you said reluctantly. “And why I liked you.”

Luke grinned as he stood up. “That’s the spirit.” He picked up the fallen helmet and placed it back on the dummy, then looked at you. “I think I’ve put you through enough suffering. Let’s get lunch.”

“So a compliment was all it took for me to get out of this?” you asked in exasperation, gesturing with your sword as you worked to undo the ties on your armor with your other hand.

“Exactly,” he mused, and he took the sword from you to store it away. “I don’t get nearly enough compliments these days, y’know. Sometimes you end up taking that out on campers that don’t know how to swordfight.”

“Luke Castellan,” you grumbled as you finally got your breastplate off, “you are a piece of work.”

He winked. “Thank you.”

—

You didn’t think you were built for this life.

It was the only thought running through your head as you sat at a crowded Hermes table, absentmindedly picking at fruit with your fork as you stared off into the distance.

You’d been at Camp Halfblood for a month now, but it had already felt like a lifetime.

You’d managed to make a few friends—a Demeter girl who grew you a bouquet of your favorite flowers as a consolation prize for fighting dirty during training; an Athena boy who told you whatever interesting fact popped into his head first every time you ran into each other; the Hebe girl who had the misfortune to have the corner opposite you in the Hermes cabin and showed you skincare tips once in a while.

Throw in a smattering of Hermes and unclaimed kids and a counselor that seemed determined to make you smile, and you weren’t as lonely as you thought you’d be.

You were learning how to fight in your own way. Luke was right—you weren’t a swordsman, but you were damn good up close and personal. He’d taken you to the camp armory, you found a Celestial bronze dagger that spoke to you, and from then on you’d actually been doing well in training.

Your corner of the Hermes cabin didn’t feel as sad anymore, either. Luke took you to the camp store for retail therapy after you nearly burned your jeans off on the climbing wall, so now you had an AC/DC poster (courtesy of the little money you had) and an I ❤️ NY keychain to attach to your backpack (courtesy of Luke’s idle hands).

You were starting to come into your own, sure. You were doing better in training and making friends in the cabin you were stuck in and starting to get used to burning part of every meal, but the most glaring issue of all still hadn’t been resolved.

You still hadn’t been claimed.

And maybe it shouldn’t have been such an issue for you, but how could you not feel shitty? How could you see all the different tables and all the different kids talking and smiling and joking with each other that had parents who cared enough to at least claim them, and not feel unworthy?

Because you did. You felt unworthy, and it didn’t matter how many times you took your sparring partner down or bested the climbing wall or actually hit the bullseye at archery practice—your mother didn’t think you were good enough, so neither did you.

“How’re you doin’, Berkeley?”

You frowned. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Luke as he sat down next to you. “What?”

“Did you not hear me?” he asked, but you were already shaking your head.

“Berkeley,” you repeated, finally glancing at him. “That’s not my name.”

Luke shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you. You’re unclaimed. UC. University of California—first one I think of for you is Berkeley.”

You were staring now. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’ve got tons of UCs. I’ve gotta keep track of them all somehow,” Luke said, and he pointed at campers both at your table and walking around as he talked. “That’s LA, Irvine, Davis—the others aren’t here, but you get the gist.” He looked back at you. “Been savin’ Berkeley for someone special.”

“Oh gods,” you said, horrified. “I’ve got to get claimed.”

One of the girls at the table—Irvine?—rolled her eyes as she stood up and flicked Luke on the head. “Be nice,” she said before walking away. All he did was smile.

“Maybe give it to someone else,” you said. “I don’t feel special.”

Luke’s brows creased. “If you don’t like it—”

“It’s fine,” you said. “The name doesn’t bother me. The reason I have it does.”

His eyes softened as he said your actual name. “It’s only been a month. You’ve still got plenty of time.”

You looked across at the Hebe girl you’d become friends with—Marisol, if you remembered right—and hoped that your eyes didn’t show the desperation you felt. “How long did it take for you?”

She offered a sympathetic smile. “Six months. But it probably won’t be that long for you.”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” you mumbled. But it had been a month, and you hadn’t gotten a single sign.

“Because it’s true,” Luke urged. “Whoever your mom is will notice you—you’ve been killing it lately.”

“Really,” you said flatly, “I’ve been killing it.”

“Yes,” he said. “You don’t know it because you’ve only got your own experience—you went from nearly dead on our doorstep to taking down most of your opponents.”

“In training,” you said.

“That still counts!” Luke exclaimed. “Y’know, you’re holding yourself back. You’re incredible, but you’re the only one that seems to not notice it.”

“And my—”

“Do not say your mom,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “We’re not talking about the gods right now, we’re talking about you. And you, Bee, are killing it.”

That gave you pause. “Bee?”

“I’m trying to get you back up and you focus on the nickname?” Luke asked wryly.

“Just explain it,” you said.

“Bee shortened from Berkeley,” he said. “Not fully unclaimed, but still something special.”

God, you hated him. You’d been feeling shitty for a majority of your month here, but he always managed to make you smile.

“Sure,” you said.

“And a little annoying,” he added, earning himself a jab in the side as he laughed, “with a bit of a sting.”

“Aren’t you just so clever?” you mused, though you couldn’t help your smile widening.

“It’s in my genes,” he said proudly.

For the rest of a less than exciting lunch, Luke kept you occupied. Whether it was stories of his life before camp, or the couple of months that earned him counselor before you got here, or getting the other campers at the Hermes table to talk about themselves, he made sure you didn’t get a chance to spiral.

By the end, your face hurt from smiling

As you finished cleaning up, Marisol turned to you. “Me and a couple other girls were gonna go play volleyball—do you wanna come with us?”

“Yeah,” you said, and your smile grew. “Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks.”

“‘Course!” she exclaimed, and she linked arms with you. “I’d be a fool not to get you on my team after you took down Liam yesterday.”

She continued to talk as she pulled you along, and you looked back at Luke. He chuckled and gave you a thumbs up. “Go get ‘em, Bee!”

You gave him one back, and as you turned back to Marisol, you found that you couldn’t stop smiling.

—

It was two in the morning and you couldn’t stop crying.

You finally had a mattress against your back, and however stiff it was, it was better than the floor. A decent amount of kids got claimed over the past month, and half the cabin left after the summer was over, so you finally had the privilege of a bunk—thankfully, Marisol did too, and she was below you.

At least, until the summer-only campers that all the Hermes kids liked more than you returned. Then it was back to the floor.

Unless you got claimed before then. But that was less likely than being able to muster some good will from your cabin mates.

Because it was embarrassing, truly. You’d been at camp for four months now, and you hadn’t even gotten a single goddamn peep from whoever your mother might be. You just woke up every day on the floor, moseyed about a camp that still didn’t feel like home, burned offerings to a god that didn't want you, and went back to sleep on the floor.

And now you were crying in a bed that was barely even yours and it was two in the morning and you were wondering if it would have just been better for you to die on the road to camp the first time, because at least then your mother might have actually paid attention to you.

“Hey.”

And now you were really wishing you’d died because you’d woken someone up and they’re just gonna hate you more—

“Are you okay?”

You finally turned your head from where it had been buried in a pillow, a laissez-faire attempt to suffocate yourself or maybe just muffle the noise, and you saw Luke Castellan. Counselor of a cabin of thieves, vagabonds, and rejects, and maybe the only person that you didn’t want to see you like this. All that good will, the unearned faith you’d accumulated—this was the easiest way to lose it. His eyebrows were creased, and his whisper held what sounded like concern, but he was required to be concerned.

You nodded, still not moving, still not speaking. Tears rolled down your cheeks and stained the bed sheet.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more believable than that, Bee,” Luke murmured.

“No, I don’t,” you whispered back.

You got the tiniest huff of a laugh out of him, and he gestured towards the closed door with his head. “Wanna take a second?”

“It’s past curfew,” you mumbled.

“And you’re miserable,” Luke said. “You can’t feel any worse getting eaten by harpies than you do now.”

Still, you stared at him.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Right outside the cabin. Harpies won’t even know.”

You rubbed a hand across your face, coming away wet with tears, and you realized that he wasn’t just going to leave you like this. So you got up as quietly as you could, careful not to disturb your bunkmates, and followed Luke. He pushed the door open and shut so quietly you wondered how many times he’s snuck out.

The cold air was sobering, and you wiped away more tears before wrapping your arms around yourself. Camp Half-Blood was always supposed to have perfect weather, but you guess not even they were immune to November nights.

“So,” Luke started, and in your peripherals you could see him leaning against the side of the cabin. You could feel his gaze on you, and you just stared off into the distance.

“So,” you repeated.

“You wanna tell me why you’re crying in the middle of the night?” he asked.

“Not really,” you said, because it felt ridiculous that a boy your age was acting like he’s ten years your elder.

Luke chuckled and tipped his head. “Fair. You want to say anything at all?”

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

He shook his head. “I was already up. I’m a light sleeper.”

“Seems rough in a cabin like this,” you said.

“I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “Did you have a nightmare?”

You frowned, because now it really felt like he was babying you. Luke must have caught on, because he laughed a bit and shook his head.

“Demigods have… extremely vivid dreams,” he said. “Typically horrific nightmares. Sometimes prophetic.”

Your frown deepened. “That’s awful.”

Luke shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. The gods can’t interfere in mortal affairs, so I guess it’s their way of letting us know what’s wrong.”

You shook your head with a sigh. “No nightmares, thankfully. Just… feeling overwhelmed.”

“About what?” he asked. “I told you you’ve been doing great.”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it,” you said wryly. “It doesn’t mean I believe it.”

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” he asserted.

You huffed a laugh. “It’s been four months, Luke. Four months since I got here after nearly dying in five different states, and I don’t even know who’s responsible for it.”

“Ah,” Luke said. “The unclaimed thing.”

“Yeah,” you said wryly. “I guess you could call it that.”

“Sorry,” he said, and he shook his head. “It’s a bigger deal than that, I know.”

“Maybe it isn’t,” you said. “There’s at least six other kids in there dealing with the same thing as I am, and none of them are waking up their counselor in the middle of the night with their tears.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Luke said with surprising conviction. “Like your feelings aren’t valid. Because they are.”

You crossed your arms. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“They are,” he insisted. “A— and you’re not bothering me. We’re friends, and we help each other. I care about you, y’know.”

“I never said I was bothering you,” you said wryly.

“You thought it,” Luke said. “I know you did.”

“...Maybe.” You sighed and shook your head as you looked out at the stars. They really were beautiful here. “I just can’t help but be bitter about all this, and I feel so shitty about it.”

“Would it make you feel better to know you’re not the only one that thinks that?” he asked.

“A little, yeah.” You glanced at him. “No one else seems too bothered that their parents are never around.”

“Most of them have accepted that it’s just the way it is,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Have you?”

Luke sighed after a moment of reluctance. “I… I have a complicated relationship with my dad because he was around. It was almost… worse to know him, and then to have him leave.”

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” you quoted.

“I don’t know about that,” Luke murmured. “But it certainly helps to talk about it.”

You glanced over to see him gazing off into the distance, a look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. This was the most he’d ever talked about his past to you, you realized—and it still wasn’t much.

“When were you claimed?” you asked after a moment of contemplation.

Luke shrugged. “I never really had to be. Hermes stayed with my mom for a year after I was born, and she told me who he was when I was a little older. I’ve known basically my whole life—he had no reason not to claim me as soon as I got to camp.”

“So you’re saying my dad could be keeping secrets from me too,” you said.

“He might not know,” Luke said. “A lot of times, they don’t talk about it. Sometimes, we don’t find out until a monster’s trying to kill us on a field trip.”

You huffed. “What a great existence we’ve been blessed with.”

Luke smiled, though it was tighter than usual. He let out a deep breath, then fully turned to you.

“Do you have your dagger with you?”

You frowned. “It’s under my pillow. Why?”

“Under your—” Luke stared for a moment before he laughed and shook his head. “A little paranoid?”

You shrugged. “You said it yourself. You’re a cabin of thieves.”

“True,” he admitted. “How’d you like to get some of this emotion out?”

“We’re sneaking out even more?”

“It’ll be fine,” Luke promised.

“You always say that,” you said. “Eventually, it’s not gonna be true.”

He laughed and gestured at the door. “Get your dagger. We’re gonna make this a very bad night for some mannequins.”

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

You huffed as you ripped your dagger out of the dummy, a few strands of straw coming out of the new hole you’d torn in its forehead, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. “Are you kidding? This was a great idea.”

“Not this part,” he said. “The ‘being alone with you during a rage’ part.”

“I’m not in a rage,” you muttered as you slashed at the breastplate, “I’m blowing off steam.”

Luke hummed. “And you thought you weren’t a good fighter.”

You stabbed at the armor again then rammed your fist into its head, and you took a step back as the mannequin thudded to the ground. “I guess I just need to think about my mom before I go into battle.”

“Y’know, Bee,” Luke said, “you scare me sometimes.”

You shook your head, wiping your blade on your night shirt to get any debris off as you turned around. “You’re really gonna stick with that?”

“I told you I’d stop if you didn’t like it.”

“It’s not that. I just…” You sighed and shook your head again. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.” Luke crossed his arms. “Everything you have to say matters.”

“Not if I say it doesn’t,” you countered, and you looked at him. “Who do you think it could be?”

“Your parent?” he asked. You nodded.

“Definitely not Apollo,” Luke said. “You’re way too dreary to be a kid of the god of the sun.”

“Gee,” you said dryly, “thanks.”

Luke shrugged. “You asked.”

“Well— who else?” You picked the dummy back up and dusted the armor off. “Athena, maybe? I’m smart.”

“Not smart enough to not be out past curfew with me,” he said.

“You suggested this,” you scoffed. “And I definitely needed it. If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“And why do you think that would work?” he asked, amused.

“You’re the camp’s golden boy,” you said. “I doubt you’d get in much trouble.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding. “Or you just think I’m good enough to talk my way out of it.”

You tilted your head. “That too.”

“I never thought Ares before,” Luke chuckled, “but after all this, I think you might have it in you.”

“God, I hope not. Priya hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Luke said. “She just tried to kill you that one time.”

“And that other time during capture the flag,” you said. “She’s out for blood, Luke.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “She always is. She’s probably already moved onto her next victim.”

“I hope so.”

“Maybe Aphrodite?” he suggested. “You’re awfully pretty.”

You rolled your eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Luke corrected.

You huffed a laugh but couldn’t help the slightest smile as you shook your head. “It’s not Tyche, at least. I have the worst luck.”

“Maybe you’re a Big Three kid,” he said. “How do you feel about the sky?”

“I like it,” you said.

“The ocean?”

“Not so much.”

“And the darkness?”

You huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not a Big Three kid, Luke. Even I know that.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You can never know for sure until you’re claimed.”

“If I was, I would be the biggest disappointment,” you said, looking at your reflection in your dagger. “Breaking their pact for a kid that can barely fight.”

“Why do you always do that?”

Luke’s voice had lost the joking edge from before, and when you glanced over at him, he was frowning.

“Do what?”

“You always put yourself down,” he said. “You don’t even give yourself a chance to believe that you’ll be great, or that you’ll succeed—you’re just a coward, or a failure, or worthless at the first bump in the road.”

“Luke—”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I need you to understand that you are so, so much more than whatever that shitty voice in your head says.”

You went silent. Any words you could have even said stuck in your throat.

“This is not an easy life,” Luke asserted. “We’re thrown into an ocean before we know how to swim, and we have to find the shore all on our own or die trying. We—” he laughed, but there was no heart in it— “we’ve got our parents above us that could guide us, could save us, but most of the time they refuse to even acknowledge us. And we’ve got every single goddamn obstacle in the way trying to kill us.”

He inclined his head towards you. “But in spite of all that, you’re alive. You’re still here. You’re pushing through everything in your path, and you are still fucking here. Do you get that?”

“…I’m still here,” you repeated, and your hands clenched into fists. It had never felt more right to have your dagger in your hand.

Luke nodded resolutely. “And you’ve got a couple lifeboats to help along the way.”

“You mean it?” Your voice came out softer than you thought, in stark contrast to the stiffness of your bones, but you felt like a kid all over again.

“With all my heart,” he promised. “For as long as you’re here, I’ll be here.”

Your throat tightened, and the telltale beginnings of tears pricked behind your eyes. This time, when you spoke, your voice was little more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he said. “And I mean that.”

You nodded, maybe a few too many times, and cleared your throat as you looked back at your dagger. “It’s late. We should get back before we actually get in trouble.”

Luke nodded too, and he helped you move the dummy back into place. You hated how your heart jumped into your throat when your hands brushed for the barest moment, but thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you for this.” You played with your hands as Luke finished putting everything else away—extra insurance to make sure no one knew you were here—and only managed to make eye contact just as he looked at you. “It… it really helped.” More than he knew, you were sure.

Luke smiled, and he offered you his arm. “Always.”

You took it, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Just… don’t tell anyone about the crying.”

He chuckled as you started walking together. “After the way you’ve been handling that dagger? I’d be a fool.“

“Luke,” you groaned, “this is awful.”

“You were the one who said you wanted to spend time with me,” he said, giving you a crooked smile. “Spending time with me after the worst cabin inspection ever means cleaning the place head to toe for our next one.”

“Is skipping dinner really worth it though?” you asked as you scooped up a pile of dirty clothes and tossed it into the basket between you two.

“It’s the only time this place is completely empty,” he said. “I told you I could handle it alone—you’re the one that insisted on helping.”

“Maybe I do want to be a Big Three kid,” you grumbled. “At least I’d only be cleaning up my own mess.”

“You’d also have the wrath of the gods and every monster in the world to deal with,” he said.

You shook your head. “A small price to pay for a clean cabin.”

“And then you wouldn’t get to see me when you wake up every day,” he mused. “A much bigger price to pay.”

You huffed as you dropped to your knees, reaching under a bed to grab a stray camp tee. “Keep talking, pretty boy. It won’t clean the floors.”

Luke grinned. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’ve got the messiest cabin in the world,” you said. “We’ve gotten the lowest rating every day for the past two weeks. I’ve been here for seven months now, and I don’t think we’ve ever gotten a full five.”

“Which is why you’re helping me!” he said. “Because you’re as sick of scrubbing the pegasi stables as I am.”

“You’re the counselor here!” you exclaimed. “You’ve gotta whip your siblings into shape.”

Luke gestured at you. “You’re basically my co-counselor. It’s just as much your responsibility.”

“And just what makes you think that?” you marveled.

“You’re the person in the cabin I like the most,” he said, “and we spend a lot of time together. That’s enough to make you my partner.”

“My stuff is always clean,” you said. “It’s you and the rest of the Hermes kids that’ve gotten us stuck in the stables and the kitchens every afternoon. Not me.”

You started remaking the unmade bed—would it kill any of the Hermes kids to make theirs right after they got up?—and shook your head. “It’s just not fair. Aphrodite’s cabin is basically Barbie’s Dreamhouse, and Demeter kids can grow plants to make it all pretty. We’ve just got a cabin of slobs.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but when you glanced at him, you saw he was smiling. “It’ll all be fine.”

“You always say that.” You got the fitted sheet into all the corners then looked at him full-on. “Even when it’s not about something as stupid as laundry. How do you know?”

Luke shrugged as he nudged a ladder to a top bunk back into place. “I don’t. I just hope for the best.”

“How do you do that?” you asked. “How does anyone here do that? I feel like I’m the most pessimistic person here.”

“Every single one of us is an anomaly,” Luke said. “Freaks of nature. By all accounts of logic, we shouldn’t exist. But we do. All of mythology does. And when we have to literally fight for our lives for every single day, it doesn’t do much good to sweat the small stuff.”

“All I do is sweat the small stuff,” you grumbled, and you stretched your back out before you continued. “D’you think they’ll get annoyed that we just pooled all their laundry together again?”

“Nah,” Luke said. “If they didn’t want to have to pick all their stuff out after we so graciously do the laundry for them, they would keep their things clean in the first place.”

You chuckled and shook your head as you finished laying out the sorry excuse for a comforter—it would end up on the floor five seconds into the night, but Sisyphus and the boulder and all that—and sat down on the fruits of your labor. “I think this mess is the one thing I won’t miss when I get claimed.”

“You’re not as down about that as you used to be,” Luke noted.

“You know how they say a watched pot never boils?”

He actually laughed at that as he leaned against a bed post. “If you don’t care, you’ll get claimed faster?”

You shrugged. “Nothing else has worked. And like you said—don’t sweat the small stuff, right?”

“Like you said— all you do is sweat the small stuff.”

“Maybe I’m gonna try and turn over a new leaf,” you mused.

“I think that would be good for you,” he said. “You’ve been happier lately. It’s good to see you happy.”

“You’ve been watching?” you asked wryly.

Luke smiled. “You know I always am.”

You ignored the warmth stirring in your chest as you shrugged. “I’ve spent way too much time this year being sad over things I can’t control. Might as well start focusing on the things I can.”

“And to think,” he mused, “this is the same girl that wanted nothing to do with me when we first talked.”

“Oh, please,” you said dryly, “I’ve always wanted something to do with you.”

“And you still understand that flattery gets you everywhere,” Luke said with a grin. He pushed himself up and held out his hand. “C’mon—this place is clean enough. I think if we run, we can still make dinner.”

“Think we’ll get in trouble for partially skipping?” you asked as you stood up and took his hand, swinging your intertwined hands a bit as you walked together.

Luke chuckled as he pushed the door open and you walked out. “After the work we did here? We should be hailed as saints.”

“Luke,” you whispered.

His eyes shot wide open as he jolted up, and you had to stifle your laugh at his bewildered expression before he realized it was you.

He said your name groggily, rubbing his eyes as he kept himself propped up with his other arm. “What d’you need?”

“The stars,” you said. “They’re beautiful tonight.”

“So are you,” he mumbled. “You don’t see me waking you up in the middle of the night to tell you that.”

“Luke,” you said, but you couldn’t help your smile. “On topic.”

“The stars,” he said, barely nodding in his addled state. “Good for them. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“No, Luke—” you laughed softly and took his hand. “Come stargazing with me.”

He closed his eyes, but he didn’t take his hand away. “You’re insane.”

“Please,” you said. “I could never see the stars at home, not like this. They’re brighter than I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s so late,” he complained. “Can we do it in the morning?”

“Do you know what stargazing is?” you asked, amused.

“Hey, lovebirds.” The annoyed, tired voice of a camper rang out as they hit the wall. “Take it outside so we can sleep.”

Again, you had to bite back a laugh. Luke looked like he was holding back a groan, but he got up anyway, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. You moved to the door as quietly as possible, and you waited until he joined you on the small porch.

“Thank you,” you said, hearing the door close, “and sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Luke covered up his yawn as he held a jacket out for you. “Put this on. I’m not gonna be responsible for you getting a cold because you want to stargaze in February.”

Your eyebrows rose as you took it. “Is this yours?”

“Don’t think too much into it,” he said, but he had the slightest smile on his lips. “You wanna see the stars, right? Let’s see ‘em.”

“Not here,” you said, shaking your head as you zipped up the maroon hoodie. You held out your hand once you finished. “Do you trust me?”

“Oh, gods,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “We’re doing a trust exercise too?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you remarked. You took his hand and started dragging him along, a clear spot in mind.

“You’re kidding me,” he said in exasperation. “I thought we were just gonna look at the sky for a couple minutes— you’re taking me to a second destination?”

“Hey,” you said, “don’t sweat the small stuff.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to use that on the harpies when they catch us and eat us,” Luke said offhandedly. “‘I’m sorry, ma’am—we’re really trying not to sweat the small stuff.’”

You laughed as you continued on your way, and out of the corner of your eye you could see Luke smiling too, despite himself. Suddenly, though, his grip tightened on your hand and he pulled you behind one of the thicker columns of the pavilion.

“Wh—”

He shook his head then gestured with it to the other side of the pavilion. One of the harpies—Aello, if you remembered correctly from Chris’s rant the past week about cleaning dishes—was walking past, muttering things to herself.

“Speak of the devil,” you marveled. You definitely weren’t a child of Tyche.

Luke gave you a look that quite clearly said be quiet, and for some reason that only made you want to laugh more. He must have seen that glint in your eye that he’d grown used to, because he placed his hand over your mouth right before the dam was about to burst.

You squeezed his hand tight as you tried to keep yourself from blowing your cover while Luke occupied himself with actually watching to make sure your path would clear. You were pressed right up against each other, and even through the jacket, even in the cold, you could feel his body warmth. He did say he ran hot.

Eventually, Luke let out a labored sigh and let his hand drop, and you wheezed, nearly doubling over.

“There is something wrong with you,” he said. He was barely able to hold back his own amusement.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “that was awful.”

“That was your fault!” he exclaimed.

“How was it my fault?” you argued. “You’re the counselor here—you’re meant to be the responsible one!”

“I was being responsible!” Luke laughed again as he ran his hand through his hair then used it to gesture at you. “You were the one that nearly got us caught—you were the one who wanted to be out here in the first place!”

“Right,” you said, pointing your finger, “we gotta get to the beach.”

“Stargazing on the beach,” Luke marveled. “Definitely worth nearly getting eaten.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said as you continued to pull him along. “You could’ve said no.”

He squeezed your hand for a moment. “We both know I can never say no to you.”

Once you got to the beach you let go of his hand and laid down, taking care not to get sand in your sneakers. Luke sat down next to you but stayed up, watching the tide go in and out.

At night, without a hundred campers running around making all the noise they can, you actually felt like you could breathe.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” It almost felt wrong to break the sacred silence, to insert yourself in the ambiance of nature working together in all its glory.

“Yeah.” Luke’s voice was softer than usual, that rough edge you’d grown used to absent in the face of calmer seas. “Yeah. It’s…”

“Serene,” you suggested.

“Beautiful,” he said. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you.

“Very smooth,” you said wryly. “Now stop flirting and look at the stars.”

Luke chuckled lightly as he let himself fall back. His hand bumped yours as he adjusted his position, and your breath caught in your throat for the barest moment. You moved it away.

The two of you laid there together in silence gazing at the stars for what felt like forever. The gentle waves coming to shore then leaving, the scattering of sand from quiet winds, and not a single angry car horn or police siren.

You missed home, the city. You were headstrong in your belief that Detroit was better than New York. But gods—sometimes, you just couldn’t beat camp.

You didn’t know what possessed you to break the silence. But something had been tugging at you since the moment you laid down on the beach, and so you did.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Always.”

“I…” you trailed off for a moment, but you bolstered yourself. “I’m scared of what comes next.”

You heard Luke shift in the sand and felt his eyes on you. “What do you mean?”

“After this,” you said. “The honeymoon phase of being a demigod.”

He huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t say we have a honeymoon phase.”

“You know what I mean.” A shiver went down your spine and you put your arms on your chest. Like a coffin. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I think you need to stop getting up in the middle of the night,” he said. “It seems you have all your existential crises then.”

You exhaled out your nose, a sorry excuse for a laugh. “I’ve heard about quests—how they can happen for no reason except a god’s will, to— to prove that you’re worthy. And all I can think about is that my mother will never claim me until I prove I’m worthy or die trying.”

Luke was silent. You could feel your throat closing up, the threatened onslaught of tears. You blinked them back.

“All my life, I have never felt seen,” you murmured. “And I’m terrified that the only way I will be seen is when I die.”

“Look at me.”

You turned your head—Luke’s eyes were piercing in the moonlight.

“I don’t care what anyone says, especially that voice in your head—you’re worth everything and more,” he said. “And you are worth so much more than becoming a martyr for a god’s approval.”

“I wish you could tell my mom that,” you mumbled.

“I would march right up to Olympus and say it to her face,” he said. “And if it bothers her that much, she can smite me right now.”

That got a breathy laugh out of you from the pure absurdity. Luke’s eyes flicked to the sky as he waited, and when he didn’t instantly die a horrific death, his gaze went back to you.

“I see you,” Luke promised, his voice low. “And I’ll make everyone see you the way I do. I swear it.”

You were starstruck. You couldn’t look away from him, from the determination etched into each detail of his face, the softness in his eyes directed wholly at you—the fact that he was here at all in the first place at an unholy hour just because you asked.

Oh gods. You were in trouble.

“It’s late.” You finally managed to break the spell that held you under. “We should go.”

“Yeah.” Luke made no motion to move, still focused wholly on you.

“Luke,” you whispered.

You could have sworn his eyes moved down to your lips, but he was sitting up so quickly that you knew you must have imagined it. You cleared your throat as you followed suit, brushing the sand off your—his— jacket.

“This was nice,” he said after a moment. “...Thanks for waking me up.”

“Of course,” you said. “There’s… there’s no one else I would’ve wanted to share it with.”

Luke smiled, and you didn’t think he’d ever looked more beautiful than he did now, awash in the silver moonlight. If you were braver, you would have taken his hand again. You would’ve done what the voice in your head desperately wanted to do—had wanted to do for the past two months.

But you didn’t.

“I guess it was worth nearly getting eaten, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, and he shrugged. “But most things are worth it when it comes to you.”

You nearly melted right there, and it was a credit to your strength that you didn’t say anything horrifically stupid. Instead, you put on a smile, hoped he couldn’t see how much he was killing you, and started back up on the path.

“C’mon,” you said. “Before we end up having to clean the entire camp for breaking curfew.”

“Whatever you say,” he mused.

You groaned as you slumped into your usual spot at the Hermes table. You heard Luke laugh, and you felt his eyes on you as you put your head in your arms.

“What’s got you so down?”

“I’ve been fifteen for three days and I already feel like an old woman,” you said. “Everything still hurts.”

“Capture the flag was meant to be a birthday gift,” Luke said wryly. “And we did win.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you grumbled. “I swear, some people went after me on purpose just because it was my birthday. I’ve got bruises all over.”

“You know, we have an infirmary for a reason.”

“They’re battle wounds,” you said. You picked up your head just to take your goblet. “Lemonade. Actually, pink lemonade.” You took a sip, but even that didn’t make you feel better. You buried your head back in your arms with a rough sigh. “Signs of our victory.”

Luke huffed a laugh. “Sometimes I really don’t…”

He trailed off suddenly, and you heard a collective gasp go up at the table.

“What?” you asked halfheartedly.

“You— you’re—”

You didn’t know why he couldn’t finish his sentence. You picked your head up to see Luke’s face awash in golden light, his eyes wide. Everyone else at the Hermes cabin was just as awestruck, and Marisol fumbled around in her purse until she pulled out her compact. She opened her foundation, the mirror pointing at you, and you realized why.

A glowing, golden, translucent sickle with a few sheaths of wheat floated above your head. You frowned.

Before you had the chance to say anything, Luke was yelling your name and tackling you in a hug. You let out a grunt of surprise as you barely managed to brace yourself, and when he pulled away he was smiling wider than you’d ever seen.

“You’re claimed!” he exclaimed, his hands gripping your shoulders. “You— you’re finally claimed!”

“Demeter,” you said, almost absentmindedly. It still hadn’t quite hit you.

“Demeter,” he repeated, nodding rapidly, that gigantic smile seeming like a permanent feature at this point. “I told you everyone would see you— I told you we would make them see you the way I do!”

The rest of the table was chattering away, and you could feel Chris patting you on the back and saying words that went in one ear and out the other. The rest of the pavilion was starting to catch word, and you could see a couple kids from a table on the opposite end standing up and craning to see. Maybe your new siblings.

(You should be happy.)

Your new siblings.

…Your new cabin.

You could still barely think, like there was static in your brain. Luke’s hands on your shoulders were the only thing grounding you.

(You should be ecstatic.)

A year of tears, silent prayers, and apathetic resolution had finally come to a close, just days after your fifteenth.

(Why are you not smiling?)

You’d been claimed. But you didn’t think you’d ever felt more lost.

#also you may notice. that these include the flashbacks mentioned at the end of bleedin me dry. bc i enjoy hurting people #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #sadie writes

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pear1escence · 5 months

Note

Hello! I read your “being keegan’s girlfriend would entail…” and was wondering if you could do one for David/Hesh Walker? My manz doesn’t get enough love

If not that’s totally okay! Thanks for reading!

Being Keegan’s girlfriend would entail…

Being David Walker’s girlfriend would entail…

David ‘Hesh’ Walker x fem!Reader (that’s my last name too actually wink wink)

Explicit - 18+

⭒ He’s got a lot of room in his heart for tenderness.

⭒ The pain he feels from having lost his father hasn’t gone away, but it doesn’t plague him like it used to. (Listen, we’ve got Logan safe and sound in this universe our man doesn’t need any more problems)

⭒ What he needs from a lover is patience. The violence he’s experienced, it’s made him rougher around the edges. (Tougher? Rougher? Pls help) He just needs a lil time to soften up to you, I think Hesh would be the sweetest man f’you, such a loving and considerate boyfriend.

⭒ Hesh cherishes the intimate, sweet moments of a relationship. Holding you in his arms in the early hours of the morning, listening to your little puffs of breath, the calmness in your face as you sleep.

⭒ He’s so gentle with you. If it’s his thumb stroking over your cheek in soothing motions, or the palm of his hand running along the soft skin of your back. Treats you so well.

⭒ Chemtrails over the Country Clubs by Lana Del Rey reminds me of him. ‘Tulsa Jesus Freak’ and ‘Let Me Love You Like A Woman’ are Hesh songs to me. Very domestic and intimate.

⭒ I think of him as a socially confident person, a man who carries himself with confidence, falls into conversation easily. He’s charming he’s got rizz basically, you don’t have to search for long to find the reasons you fell for him.

⭒ I mean…pretty green eyes, tall, arms like his? I’d eat him up.

⭒ He’d date someone shy, I think. I think he’d find your shyness endearing, amusing even.

⭒ He loves taking you out for dinner, partly because he loves the sight of you all dressed up for him. He strikes me as someone with he a classic taste, likes romantic makeup styles, dresses that hug your curves and lacy lingerie.

⭒ His softness carries over into the bedroom, of course. I can’t imagine him being degrading or enjoying anything too rough, honestly. He can’t resist teasing you a bit though, a little meanness is all fun. He likes you submissive though, and he can be stern sometimes. Who’s complaining anyways let’s be honest with ourselves😓

⭒ He’s gonna be groping you mercilessly. Loves soft thighs, a nice pair of tiddies, anything soft. He’s big on foreplay, loves to finger you while praising you. Luvs to praise.

⭒ He WILL suck on your nipples. Probably groaning about how much he loves your body while doing so.

⭒ Wouldn’t actually choke you, but he’ll wrap a hand around your neck nd apply pressure gently, he likes seeing his hand ‘round your neck + you find it grounding, even comforting.

⭒ Makes you look him in the eyes while his hand is in your panties, “Does that feel good, baby? Yeah?” Nd you best believe he’s stopping if he doesn’t get an answer.

⭒ Very into eye contact while he’s fucking you. Again with the “You like that, pretty girl?” While gripping your jaw nd making you look at him, groaning out a “Good girl” once you answer him.

⭒ This just turned into sex headcannons bruh😞

⭒ Loves blowjobs. Also lowkey wants you to lick/suck on his balls but he’s a bit embarrassed to ask, you’ll figure out he enjoys it from his reactions anyways. Also pretty hairy, but not as much of a bear man as Keegan is.

⭒ He sends you pics of him in his combat uniform while he’s out on deployment. He’ll certainly appreciate pics of you in return, a mirror selfie of you in some nice lingerie would drive him crazy. Loves a nice photo of you in his boxers too.

⭒ I think he’d be very shy about reciprocating those kinds of images, but he’d send you over some mildly suggestive ones. He’d be very confused if you ask for a nut vid. (That sounds so fucking dumb, nut vid??)

Me?? Writing for someone other that Keegan??? No but this was fun, I’ve been wanting to write for Hesh for a while. Hope you enjoyed!! I think this is my first request ever tihi

#david hesh walker #david hesh walker x reader #hesh walker #hesh walker x reader #cod ghosts #call of duty #call of duty ghosts #cod #call of duty headcanons

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paperstorm · 15 days

Text

Is it Wednesday already 🥴 3x17 missing moment is nearing completion. Proposal here we come. I am in a dusty archive with terrible internet this today so I have this scheduled, excited to read all your snippets when I get home!

“Hey, baby,” TK pants, smiling at Carlos as he steps into their apartment.

He watches, feeling a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, as Carlos stops in his tracks and for a moment just stares across the room at him. TK cocks his head to one side, confused, and slows his speed. He sits back down onto the padded seat as Carlos turns to close and lock the door behind him.

“How was your day?” TK asks, reaching for the towel he’d slung over the handlebars so he can wipe at his damp face. His legs peddle slowly, letting himself come down from the zenith of his workout. He’s already a little light-headed, endorphins kicking in and leaving him buzzing.

“Fine,” Carlos says evenly, dropping his bag down and making his way across the room. His shoes click on the poured concrete, measured and metronomic as he approaches.

“Hey,” TK says again, laughing a little in confusion, as within seconds Carlos goes from yards away from him by the door to right in front of him.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Carlos murmurs, reaching for him and running his hands up TK’s arm, his shoulder, down his bare chest.

Caught off guard, TK giggles and stumbles a little, having to grab for the handlebar to keep himself from falling off the bike.

“Look at you,” Carlos rasps. TK gets a brief glimpse of the black that’s taken over his irises and finally his brain catches up with what’s happening. It shouldn’t have taken so long, they’ve both been so into each other lately that TK seems to spend more time with his legs in the air than he spends doing almost anything else, but his stomach flips once he realizes.

“Oh.”

Carlos steps in closer, chest against his arm so TK lifts it and wraps it around Carlos’s shoulders half a second before Carlos surges forward and kisses him hard enough to bruise. TK mmph’s into it, another surprised and breathless laugh tickling the back of his throat as Carlos’s tongue is in his mouth of all of a sudden.

“Babe, I’m sweaty,” TK protests half-heartedly, aware that his wet armpit is pressing against the shoulder of Carlos’s nice shirt.

“Yeah,” Carlos agrees shortly, in a way that communicates it’s the very opposite of a problem for him. He attaches his lips to TK’s neck, inhaling deeply like his damp skin is the best thing Carlos has ever smelled; big hands enclosing TK’s waist and squeezing him while TK struggles to balance on the small bicycle seat.

“What got into you, today?”

“Nothing. I had the most boring day of all time, spent like two hours on my phone playing Angry Birds and half listening to Lexi tell me why Lemonade is the best album of all time.” Carlos licks a stripe up his throat.

TK swallows as desire stirs in his groin and sends blood southward.

“And then you,” he continues, in a voice that’s low and rough and sending rocket fire right to TK’s quickly hardening cock, “who insisted on putting an exercise bike in the middle of my dining room not once, but twice – ”

“I didn’t insist shit,” TK interrupts, a cramp starting to ache in his hip from the awkward way he’s twisted and hissing softly when Carlos lightly grazes teeth over the junction of his neck and shoulder, “you put it there twice, I asked both times if you wanted it somewhere else.”

Carlos continues as if he hadn’t spoken, “ – and then barely ever fucking use the damn thing, thought you could just be here, shirtless and sweaty, when I got home, and thought I wasn’t gonna lose my whole mind about it?”

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringduet

@goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @lemonlyman-dotcom @whatsintheboxmh

@bonheur-cafe @reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms

@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce

@fifthrideroftheapocalypse @fitzherbertssmolder @butchreyes @just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh

@captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@ditheringmind @emsprovisions @irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

#911ls fanfic #wip wednesday #paperstorm writes #missing moments #back like queue left some

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cheshirebitch · 7 months

Note

Hi :3 can you make a vox x reader but they have a love hate relationship?? Pls I will give you my soul

There you go :D

( Sooooo I went for a more angsty love hate relationship... hope this is what you wanted haha but very much was inspired by the song Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood! I appreciate the request and I seriously hope I did it justice <3)

Vox x Reader

𝔾𝕠 𝔸𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℂ𝕣𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝

Val was screaming upstairs as Velvette and I were gathering plans together. She was working on something with her online status she has to maintain 24/7 while I was trying to work on the next big technology idea with Vox. The problem was, Vox was too busy upstairs babying Val. I have tried talking to him, more like yelling at him, to just get rid of Valentino.

“Jesus, Vox! You sound more like his boyfriend than you do mine! Every fucking second you spend with him. What do I have to do to just get five fucking minutes with you?” I slammed the drawer shut. Vox groaned before yelling back.

“Maybe if you were more understanding, I would be able to spend time with you being actually in love and, I don’t know, not yelling at you!” He was glaring at me from the doorway that he just had to duck through. I used my magic to slam the door behind him, locking it.

“Why’d you have to lock me in here?” He looked annoyed as he tried to pull the door open, only to be shocked with electricity. I was glaring at him from next to the bed, arms crossed.

“So we can actually have one fucking conversation before you go running to Val! You need to listen to me and just get rid of him!” I threw my bottoms at him as I slipped on my pj’s. I missed how he looked at me when I would change in front of him, but instead we fight every night before we go to sleep and wake up in love. But it always only lasted for maybe two hours before Valentino ruined it.

He was a horrible person and reminded me a lot of my life. I have tried to have a sit down conversation with Vox about it so many times just to end up talking to Velvette about it. She must have sensed me getting more and more annoyed because she put her phone down and looked at me. It was rare to see her even glance over her phone at you.

“Hey, maybe it’s time to call it quits if he doesn’t even prioritize you yah know?” She shrugged with tight lips. The papers in my hand crumpled. Anger was all I could feel, anger and embarrassment.

“Velvette.” My voice shook, selling out how bad I wanted to just talk to someone, anyone. Velvette glanced up, quickly disregarding her phone. She strode the distance between us and quickly grabbed my shoulders before whispering, “Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on?” I started bawling the second she asked. All this pent up hatred overwhelmed my heart that was still deeply in love with the man I was hating.

“I tried talking to him about it all, Vel. I don’t know how much more I can take. It reminds me too much of-”

“Shhhh, it’s okay. Try and calm down and then we can talk about it? Stay in my room tonight. Fuck Vox.”

“I have tried talking to him, yelling at him even! Velvette, I don’t know how much more I can take of this. One second he is the best man ever in my whole life, putting all my previous boyfriends to shame. But then he keeps babying the man who reminds me of all those abusive men I have dated. How can he even associate with someone like that?” I gestured wildly to the ceiling since they were both above us. I could hear another thing get smashed upstairs, followed by Valentino throwing some sort of hissy fit. I sunk back into my seat with my eyes brimming with tears. Velvette stood up, shuffling to the seat next to me. She draped an arm over my shoulders, hugging me, with her phone face down on the coffee table in front of us.

“Did you try telling him how you feel without any distractions? I know we can all be pretty distracting.” She trailed it out as her fingers swirled shapes on my shoulder. I leaned my head on her shoulder as I whispered back, “I have tried everything, Vel. Everything. All he does is focus on fucking Alastor or Valentino.”

“Here, I will take a turn with the sissy baby upstairs if you promise to try and talk to Vox, then let me know how it goes. We can go from there, girl. If he turns out to not be the shit, we can toss him out like the shit he is.” Gently, she slid off the couch and moved to go upstairs. I waited downstairs for what felt like almost an hour. Pressure was pushing harder and harder on my shoulders and back when I couldn’t hold it down anymore. I stood up and pushed all the papers off the table, flipping the table after shoving the papers didn’t satisfy anything. I was in the middle of picking up the couch when Vox opened the door and shut it behind him.

“Sorry about that doll, I was- What are you doing?” He stood at the door, his towering frame frozen there, pointing at me as I held the couch above me. I dropped it as I stared at him still, clearing my throat. I tried to shove those pent up emotions back down but they still remained on the edge of my tongue, ready to fire off. I could tell I was going to start the attitude this time.

“Nothing, just- nothing.” I looked at the couch and back at Vox. God did he always look so godly when he stared at me like that but fuck was I mad at him. Ditching all his work on me just to baby a grown ass disgusting-

“Yeah, sure. That looks like a lot of nothing.” Oh hell no.

“Really? If anything, you are doing nothing with this new project, again.” I snarled at him. He immediately narrowed his eyes at me before laughing dryly, holding his screen face with his hand before wildly talking with his hands.

“Seriously? You got Velvette to drag me away from calming down Val from embarrassing us for this? Get a grip, (Y/n)! There are more important things going on than you having to do a little extra work around here.” He waved his hands and rolled his eyes at me, about to leave the room. I hated him, I hated how he always brushes me off. I can’t even remember the last time we didn’t fight but instead actually talked to each other. I grabbed the lamp next to me and threw it at his head. It smashed over his head, of course with a bad aim. I was seething and he was too with how he whipped around, growling at me. He was taking long strides to be leaning down into my face. He grabbed my throat, dragging his blue claws across my neck as he hissed at me.

“You fucking bitch! You could’ve smashed my screen! Damaged my cords! Do you want me to not trust you anymore? To lock you away? I can just get rid of all the trust I have placed in you if that’s what this little episode is about.” I was scrunching my face towards his before I reached behind his screen, unplugging one of his wires. I knew they were sensitive too as I unplugged his audio cord. His screen was still moving like he was talking but no words came out. A wide sadistic smile spread as I laughed at him.

“Finally! No more shots back and now you have to fucking listen to be you ignorant dick!” I grabbed his arms and shoved him down onto the couch, pinning his arms down as I sat on his lap. He was trapped underneath me as I glared into his furious face. I knew he was cussing me out but I really didn’t care.

“You need to stop being at Valentino’s every call. He needs to be kicked out or I’m out.” Vox stopped lashing from underneath me, completely stilling and looking at me with shock and an underlining of fear. It pulled at my heart seeing him genuinely scared to lose me. I let go of his arms, knowing he was going to finally listen to me. Those blue claws drifted up my arm and traced shapes on my back before shifting to holding my face carefully. This was the tender and loving Vox I missed so much. I held his one hand over my cheek as the other held my hip, tightly. He was scared I was leaving anyway and I could see it in his eyes.

“I have been trying to tell you this whole time we have been together, Vox. Val reminds me too much of the relationships I had alive. All the abuse, the violence, the-” My voice broke as I thought of everything all those men have stolen from me. The only satisfaction I have over those moments was how I killed them back before I died. Vox swiped a tear that started to slide down my face. His eyes bounced between mine. He didn’t bother to try and talk, just kept tracing those shapes on my hip now.

“I just can’t do it anymore, baby. Please, choose me for once. Please.” My voice croaked at the last please. I plugged his audio in, desperate for that comforting and willing to kill anyone for me man that caught my attention my first week in hell. He immediately pulled me into a hug, cradling my body in his arms as he hushed my quiet cries. He was repeatedly apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, doll face. I promise he will be gone from this building by tomorrow. We can just sit in our room till he’s gone. I promise, I will have the crew remove him and everything that reminds you of him. Oh baby doll, I’m so sorry.” He was rocking me in his arms, nuzzling his staticy face onto mine. The room felt more sadly comforting as I remembered everything that happened when I was alive, finally crying it all out to Vox. He sat mostly silent, except for his occasional comforting words. I told him everything that happened when I was with each man, listing names with their actions as Vox was taking notes on their names. Then I got to my dad, which bothered Vox even more as he listened. His hands tightened on me, pulling me tighter into his cradling hold. His whole body was wrapped around mine at this point as he mumbled, “Go ahead and cry little girl. And if you were my little girl, I’d do whatever I could do.” He smiled gently at me as he held me. The room darkened slightly, only hearing the static sound of his heart beating where I laid my head on his chest.

“Promise me one thing, baby?” I hummed back, sniffling also as I wiped my eyes.

“Promise me you won’t try to leave me again? I know it was just an ultimatum, but I could never deal with you leaving. It would ruin me faster than a magnet to my screen.” He chuckled at his hopeful attempt to make me smile, which succeeded.

“I promise.”

(As always, characters belong to their owner and the story belongs to me. Been in a slight writers block and trying to get outta it lol. If you have any requests or ideas, send them over :)! I will gladly try to write things for my supporters! Thank you for the love and have a great day<3)

#fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #x reader #xreader #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox x reader #oneshot

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lustfulslxt · 11 months

Note

Hii! Would you be willing to write a part two of “polaroids” where matt finds another polaroid of the picture without her face showing and is like “damn chris shes hot” and he gets jealous and realizes hes in love with reader and asks her to be his gf and when she says yes he takes like a candid polaroid of them

Polaroid Pt. 2 - Chris Sturniolo

warnings : suggestive ?? mentions of sex and masturbation

Polaroid Pt. 1

—

Chris’ POV

I was currently getting out of the shower, drying off when I heard the front door slam, indicating Matt and Nick were now home. They had just gone to the store, so I used the free time to get myself off.

I loved beating my dick to the polaroids of Y/N. She was so fine and yummy, she just looked so amazing all of the time. Sometimes I get hard at the simple thought of her. Thinking about her makes my stomach twist, an unusual feeling brewing inside of me.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I make my way back out to my bedroom. Without paying much attention, I head to my dresser to grab boxers.

“Who is this girl, Christopher?” Matt’s voice calls out, making me jump in fear because I hadn’t realized he was even in the room.

I look over and noticed he was going through the small stack of polaroids I had taken of Y/N. My eyes widened in panic, realizing that if he continued, he would come across some with her face revealed. I quickly ran over to him and snatched them up, holding them against me.

“Jesus kid! Chill out would you? She’s hot as fuck though, I’d smash.” He grins, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Can you fucking not? Why do you have to be weird as fuck about it?” I retort, now feeling quite a bit annoyed.

“What the fuck’s your problem? I thought you said you just got them with merch?” Matt asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

I felt my ears getting hot, now being put on the spot. I wasn’t sure what to say, but it was clear that my previous explanation was a lie.

"I did. They came with my black playboy shirt." I continued the lie, hoping he would buy it.

"Then why are you getting so bent over them? So what I think she's sexy? You don't even know her." He says.

"She's mine!" I bite back, feeling even more frustrated with him.

"Chris, who is she really?" He asks again, staring at me expectantly.

As he just looks at me, waiting for an answer, I can't help but let my thoughts run. Why was I getting so mad over this? Sure, it's annoying, but it's more than that. The thought of anyone wanting Y/N made me sick to my stomach. I didn't want anyone to have her, I wanted her all to myself.

I want to be the one to make her smile. I want to be the one to get to listen to her laugh at all hours of the night. I want to be the one to buy her gifts and take her on dates. I want to be the one to make her cum and have her moaning my name. I want to be the one she loves, like she's the one I love.

That's when it dawned on me; I'm in love with her. I'm so mad about Matt being attracted to her because I'm jealous. I'm jealous because I'm in love with her.

"Hello? You've just had an epiphany." Matt states, waving his hand in front of my face.

"What?" I ask, confusion ridden in my entire facial expression.

"You just realized something. Don't even try to deny it, it's written all over your face. What is it?"

After a pause, I couldn't help the smile that turned my lips upright, "I'm in love."

It's been two days since I realized I was in love with Y/N, and she was currently on her way over right now. I was a little nervous if I was being honest. I planned on asking her to be my girlfriend today, I even got her flowers just for it.

Matt was able to pry out the truth from me, so he now knows about me and Y/N. He immediately stopped with the remarks towards the polaroids of her, and he promised to keep our secret. I didn't want anyone knowing anything yet, in case everything went sideways.

Part of me was terrified that she didn't feel the same way as me, but the other part was convinced she couldn't fake things between us. I just hope that part was correct.

A couple of soft knocks pulled me from my thoughts. As I looked up to my bedroom door, Y/N came walking in. She looked stunning. Even though she was in sweats and a hoodie, she still looked breathtaking, and I couldn't get enough of her.

I walked over to her, admiring the bright smile that rose to her lips. I sighed, pulling her into my arms and resting my cheek on her head. She immediately melted into my embrace, making me feel warm inside.

"Hi, love." She greets, her words muffled into my chest.

"Hey, princess." I respond, planting a small kiss on her head.

I knew it was about that time; I have to confess my feelings for her. It was making me so nervous; I could feel my heart beating slightly faster.

"I missed you." She said, breaking away from our hug, before standing on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss to my lips.

"I missed you more." I smile at her, before my eyes flicker to my dresser. "I, uh. I actually got you something."

"Oh really?" She questions, surprise evident on her face.

I nod, stepping around her and grabbing the bouquet of assorted flowers from the top of my dresser. I turn around with my hand held out, holding them in her direction. Her eyes widened as she took them in her hands.

"Thank you." She smiles, smelling them. "What are these for though?"

"About that.." I trailed off, now feeling more anxious than ever.

"What's up, love?" She asks, encouraging me to speak to her.

"Well, it's a funny story actually." I say, chuckling in an attempt to hide my nerves. "Well, you see, I'm in love with you."

When she stares at me with wide eyes, I swallow my pride and continue, "We've been messing around for a while now, but I've only just realized a few days ago that I don't want to just mess around. I want more with you, I want it all with you. And I never want to be without you. I don't mean to sound like a cornball, but it is what it is. I'm in love with you, kid."

By the time I finished talking, she had a wide smile plastered on her face. She placed the flowers back on my dresser, then swiftly pulled me into her as she pressed her lips onto mine.

My stomach fluttered with butterflies, finally fully accepting what was. We moved in perfect sync, nothing but love and passion between the both of us. We’ve kissed a million times, yet this was by far the best. It held everything in it.

She pulls away, her cheeks growing rosy as she bit her lip. “I was waiting for you to say that. Because I’m kind of like in love with you too.”

“Does this mean I can be your boyfriend then?” I ask her, a small smirk laying on my lips.

She shrugs, “I mean, I guess.”

Happy and joyous laughter escaped both of us as I pulled her into my arms. I couldn’t help but spin her around, incredibly eager to be able to call her mine. Once we pulled away from one another, she quickly grabbed the polaroid camera that was placed on my dresser beside the flowers.

“Shall we take a photo to replace the one in your wallet?” She asks, her lips holding a wide smile.

“I don’t know about replacing it, but we can definitely add to it.” I chuckle.

She grinned, hanging the camera to me. I pulled her into my side and brought her face to mine. As our lips met, she placed her hand on my face and I held the camera out and snapped a photo. The sound of the film printing rang through the air, yet she didn’t pull away. Instead, she deepened the kiss. After a long minute of passionately kissing, she pulls away yet kept her face right in front of mine.

“I do love you.” She whispers, as if to reassure me.

I give her a nod, the smile on my face unwavering. “I love you so much more.”

—

a/n : not proofread! this was so sucky and short and rushed and i don’t like it.. but anyways, i hope you guys do lol! send in more reqs 🫶🏼 &&& don’t drag me into drama bc i hurt feelings over here 🥰

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dianawinchester03 · 6 months

Text

Season 1, Episode 6 -Skin

Series Masterlist

Y/N's POV

The boys and I pull up to a musty old gas station to fill baby up. "Alright, I figure we hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south...be there by midnight..." Dean looks over to Sam and we notice Sams focused on his phone and he might not be listening, "...Sam wears women underwear" Dean adds and I snicker while playing Sudoku on the newspaper.

"I've been listening, I'm just busy" Sam says and I peer over in the backseat to take a peek at who he's texting. "Busy doing what?" I ask as Dean gets out of the car. "Reading e-mails" Sam says. "Emails from who?" Dean asks. "From my friends at Stanford" Sam responds.

"You're kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies?" Dean asks amused as he picks up the gas pump. "Why not? He kept in touch with me when he went to Stanford" I pipe up. "Well..." Dean says as he puts the pump in the tank, walking back to the side of the passenger seat. "...what exactly would he tell them?" He says to me. "You know? About where you been, what you been doing?" Dean finishes, talking to Sam.

"I tell them I'm on a road trip with my big brother and my childhood best friend. I tell them I needed some time off after Jess" Sam says shrugging. "Oh, so you lie to them" Dean says causally. "No. I just don't tell them...everything" Sam defends. "Hate to break it to ya Sammy, but that's called lying" I say ironically, leaning back into the backseat.

"I mean, hey man we get it. Telling the truth is far worse" Dean says chuckling. "So what am I supposed to do? Just cut everyone out of my life?" Sam asks and Dean shrugs. "You're serious?" He asks. "Look, it sucks but..a job like this, you can't get close to people. Period" Dean says chuckling.

"Don't you agree with me Y/N?" Dean asks me and I turn to Sam "As much as I'd hate to admit it man. He's got a point. I mean. I don't keep in contact any of my high-school friends or old lovers due the nature of this job" I give my opinion and I notice Deans eyebrow cock up at the word 'lovers'. Sam shakes his head in disappointment at this.

"You're kind of antisocial, you know that?" Sam retorts to Dean and I snicker at this. "Dean? Antisocial? Have you seen him at happy hour when the cougars are around, ready to dig their claws into some fresh white cub meat" I throw my head back laughing and Sam chuckles. "Shut it, nutcase" Dean grumbles at me. "Make me, asshat" I counter, winking at him and he smirks at me.

Sam looks back down back at his phone and mutters shocked "God". Dean peers his head in the passenger side window and I lean forward to look over Sams shoulder. "What?" Dean asks. "This email from this girl Rebecca Warren, one of those friends of mine" Sam says. "She hot?" Dean asks intrigued and I roll my eyes.

"I went to school with her and her brother Zach. She says Zach's been charged with murder. He's been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says 'he didn't do it but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case' ". Sam explains. "Dude, what kind of people you been hanging out with?" I ask surprised and he shakes his head.

"No man. I know Zach. He's no killer" Sam defends. "Yeah, well. Maybe you know Zach as well as he knows you" Dean says ironically. "Jesus man, that's cold" I say and Dean shrugs. "They're in St. Louis. We're going" Sam turns to Dean and he chuckles. "Look, sorry about your buddy, okay? But, this doesn't sound like our kind of problem" Dean says and I cut him off.

"It is our problem, They're my friend" Sam says firmly. "St. Louis is 400 miles behind us Sam" Dean exaggerates. "We've driven further for less, Dean. Let's just go and if it's not our kind of deal, we split" I try to reason with him, coming to Sam's defense. Sam shoots me a grateful smile not before hitting Dean his classic puppy dog eyes whenever he wants to get his way. Dean just sighs and gets in the Impala, turning around to make our way to St. Louis.

________________________________

Now in-front of Sam's friend Rebecca's house. He knocks and almost immediately she opens the door, a smile plastered on her face. "Oh my god. Sam" She says happy. "Well if it isn't little Becky" He smiles back and I almost immediately notice the enticed look on Deans face when he sees Becky.

I'll admit, she's pretty hot, blonde. Exactly Dean's type. Everything I'm not...wait, why am I wondering if I'm Dean's type? Ugh, whatever.

"And you know what you can do with that 'little Becky' crap" She retorts back before hugging him. "I got your email" Sam says when they break the hug. "I didn't think you'd come here" She says shocked. "Dean. Older brother" Dean cuts in, putting his hand out to shake hers. "Hi" She says. "Hi" He says back with his usual shit eating grin on his face.

"Y/N, childhood best friend" I push Dean aside lightly, putting my hand out to shake hers. Dean grumbles a bit at this but I ignore it. "Hi, Y/N" She says to me smiling widely. "We're here to help. Whatever we can do" Sam says to her. "Come in" She invites us in.

"Nice place" Dean compliments her house as I wolf whistle checking it out. "It's my parents. I was crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I'm gonna stay until Zach's free." Rebecca tells us as we're walking in. "Where are your folks?" I ask.

"They live in Paris for half the year, so they're in their way home now for the trial" She explains to us. Damn, must be nice. "You guys want a beer?" She offers us. "Hey" Dean says gratefully. "No thanks" Sam cuts in and Deans face drops. "So, tell us what happened" Sam asks her, leaning on the kitchen island.

Rebecca sighs, "Well...um...Zach, he came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn't breathing, and so he— He called 911 and the police, they showed up and— And they arrested him" She explains to us, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"But the thing is, the only way that Zach could have killed Emily is if he was two places at the same time." She continues and me and the boys look at each other. "The police, they have a video. It's from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zach coming home at 10:30. Now Emily was killed just after that but I swear he was here with me having a few beers until at least after midnight" She explains fully.

"You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zach's house" Sam suggests. "We could" Dean says. "I mean, why? I mean, what could you do?" Rebecca's asks. "Well, me, not much. But Dean and Y/N are cops." Sam says and Rebecca looks over at us shocked. Me and Dean chuckle before I turn to her. "Detectives, actually" I say and Dean grins cockily at my choice.

"Really? Where?" She asks curiously. "Bisbee, Arizona" Dean says nodding and I nod as well. "But we're off duty now" Dean says and Rebecca hesitates. "You guys, it's so nice to offer, but I just— I don't know" She says unsure. "Beck, look, I know Zach didn't do this." Sam says, sympathizing with her. "Now, we have to find a way to prove that he's innocent" Sam reasons with her.

She looks over to us and we smile at her. "Okay. I'm gonna go get the keys" She agrees and leaves the room. When she walks off, Dean wolf whistles checking her out, "Well, you're a real straight shooter with your friends" Dean says. "Look, Zach and Becky need our help-" Dean cuts Sam off. "I just don't think this is our kind of problem" Dean exaggerates again.

"Two places at once? Like I said, we've looked into less" I counter and Sam nods. Dean sighs, giving in and agreeing.

________________________________

A little later we're over at the crime scene. We all jump out of the Impala and Rebecca asks. "Are you sure this is okay?" Clutching her sweater to her chest. "Yeah. We are officers of the law" Dean lamely says and I internally roll my eyes as we walk over to the house. This man has no game. How he gets women? I will never know.

Opening the door, the scene is not pretty. Blood everywhere you could think of. I turn to Rebecca after seeing the state. "Hun, you wanna wait outside?" I ask her gently. She shakes her head and steps in, under the police tape. "No, I wanna help" She says walking inside, clutching her hands to her chest. "Tell us what else the police said" Sam says to her.

"Well, there's no sign of a break in. They say that Emily let her attacker in. The lawyers, they're already talking about plea-bargain" She tells us tearfully. "Oh god" She gasps tearfully, looking at the scene. "Look Beck, if Zach didn't do this, it means someone else did. Any idea who?" Sam asks her calmly while shakes her head then she realizes something.

"Um, there was something. About a week before, somebody broke in here. They stole some clothes. Zach's clothes. The police, they don't think it's anything. I mean, we're not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed" Rebecca explains to us tearfully. I hear a dog barking outside.

Me and Dean open the door to see a big brown labradoodle barking aggressively at the door. Rebecca comes behind us and says. "You know, that used to be the sweetest dog" She says as the dog is growling at us. "What happened?" Dean asks. "He just changed." She says shrugging.

"You remember when he changed?" I ask. "I guess around the time of the murder" She says, me and Dean share a look at this sighing. Turning back to walk inside to the kitchen. There Sam is by the fridge, looking at a picture of him, Rebecca and Zach. "Do the neighbors dog went psycho right around the time Zach's girlfriend was killed" Dean tells Sam.

"Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal" Sam says. "Yeah, maybe Fido saw something" I say and Sam's eyes narrow at his brother. "So you think maybe this is our kind of problem?" He asks Dean knowingly. "No, probably not. But we should look at the security tape" Dean still denies, causing me and Sam to shake our heads.

"You...." I clap my hand on his shoulder gently. "...Are one stubborn bastard" I chuckle ironically and Sam says, "Yeah" while Dean huffs, rolling his eyes as I take my hand off his shoulder. Rebecca comes back into the kitchen and I ask her. "So, the tape, the uh security footage? You think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it? See we just don't have that kind of jurisdiction" I tell her.

"I've already got it. I didn't wanna say something in-front of the cops" She admits, nodding her head towards me and Dean. We chuckle at this. "I stole it off the lawyers desk. I just had to see it for myself" She says to us. "Alright" Dean says happily to me and Sam, gesturing for Rebecca to make her way out, he walks out and he follows behind her.

Sam looks at the picture with him and his friends sadly and I rest my hand on my best friend's shoulder comfortingly. He turns to me sighing, his head dropping a bit. "We'll find whoever did this to your friend, Sammy" I give him a small smile, trying to reassure him. He just nods and sighs. "We better" He says.

________________________________

We're all now back at Rebecca's house, reviewing the security tape. "Here he comes" Rebecca says, pointing at the tv is a clear video of Zach at, "2204, that's just after 10. You said time of death was 10:30" Dean indicates, sitting on the handle of the couch Rebecca is on, while Sam and I stand, looking at it intently.

"Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape's authentic. It wasn't tampered with" She tells us and I notice something flash in Zach's eyes on the screen, I nudge Sam with my elbow lightly to see if he saw it too. He nods and turns to Rebecca. "Hey hun, can we take those beers now?" I ask causally smiling. "Yeah sure, no problem" She smiles at me, getting up to get the beers.

"Hey...uh...maybe some sandwiches too?" Sam adds and she smiles. "What do you think this is, Hooters?" She says chuckling. Dean looks at us suspiciously when we do this as it's completely out of character for us. Dean chuckles at her Hooters comment. "I wish. What is it?" Dean asks us, getting up from the couch to move closer.

"Check this out" Sam says, rewinding the security footage to when Zach turned his head to the camera. There, is a silver flash in his eyes. "Maybe it's just a camera flare" Dean suggests but I shake my head. "That's not like any camera flare I've seen before" I say and Sam nods in agreement. "You know a lot of cultures believe a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul" I say.

"Right" Dean says and I continued. "Remember that dog that was freaking out? Maybe he saw this thing" I suggest. "Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zach's, something that looks like him but isn't him" Sam adds. "Like a doppelgänger" Dean adds. "Yeah" Sam says and I nod. "That would sure explain how he was in two places at once" I say as we look at the screen.

________________________________

Early the next morning. Sam wakes us up to go back to the crime scene at Zach's house. We're at the back. Coffee in Deans hand and cigarette in between my fingers. Me, Dean and Sam exit the Impala, shutting the door behind us. "Alright. So, what are we doing here at 5:30 in the morning" Dean asks annoyed as I scratch my head and yawn.

"I realized something. The videotape shows the killer going in but not coming out" Sam says. "So he came out the back door?" I ask taking a drag from my cigarette, squinting my eyes from the harsh light coming from the sun while Dean takes a sip of his coffee "Right. So there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue" Sam says, walking across the street, around the side of the dumpster.

While I lean against the front bumper of baby, Dean says. "Because they think the killer never left. They caught your friend Zach inside" Dean leans on baby next to me. "I still don't know what we're doing here at 5:30 in the morning" I grumble annoyed as I another drag and letting it out. Dean nods agreeing with me.

"Aww does the Princess need her beauty sleep?" His tone is teasing, pouting jokingly at me while I take a drag. I give him a side glare and I roll my eyes. "You need it more than me, charming" I tease back, winking at him and letting out the smoke as he scoffs. "Who pissed in your coffee?" He chuckles when I pointed to Sam in annoyance.

My eyes trail down his face as he drinks from his cup. The way his lips wrap around the little opening in the lid. He catches me staring and smirks. "Not a word" I huff and he puts his hands up in surrender chuckling. We look over to see Sam staring at the wooden post right across from the dumpster.

"Blood. Somebody came this way." Sam says from across the street, nodding towards it with his head. "Maybe the trail ends. I don't see anything here" Dean says and I second that. "Me neither" I say shrugging. We hear sirens from a ambulance in the distance. It comes rushing down the street we're on and we all look at it past by.

The boys and I share a knowing look. I sigh and toss my almost burnt out bud on the ground, crushing it with my boot before we all jump in the Impala and follow behind the ambulance.

________________________________

Couple blocks over we get out of baby to scan the scene. Cops are putting up police tape and the place is crowded. "What happened?" I ask a woman who's onlooking the commotion. "He tried to kill his wife. Tied her up and beat her" She tells us. "Really?" Sam says as shocked as we are.

"Yeah. I used to see him going to work in the morning. He'd wave, say hello. He seemed like such a nice guy" She says sadly as we look at the police escort a man in handcuffs to the squad car.

________________________________

Sam and I decide to go to the back of the building to see if there is anything of significance. We see some large blue trash bins and begins opening them. "Hey. Remember when I said this wasn't our kind of problem" Dean calls out to us as we walk back out. "Yeah?" Sam says.

"Definitely our kind of problem" Dean says a little excited. "Finally you're on board. What'd you find out?" I ask as I stick my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket. "I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, who heard this guys Alex's story. Apparently the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked" Dean explains and it clicks.

"So he was two places at once?" Sam beats me to it. "Exactly!" Dean exclaims. "Then he sees himself in the house. Police think he's a nut job" Dean adds. "Two dark doubles attacking loved ones in exactly the same way" I start, walking a bit forward, turning back to the boys.

"Could be the same thing doing it too" Dean suggests. "Shapeshifter?" Sam asks questionably and Dean shrugs. "Something that could make itself look like anyone" Sam adds. "Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore. Legends of creatures who transform themselves into animals or other men" Dean gives us the rundown and I nod.

"Right. Skinwalkers, werewolves.." I give examples trailing off. "We got two attacks within blocks of each other. I'm guessing we've got a shapeshifter problem" Dean says. "Let me ask you this: In all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?" Sam asks us, walking forward and looking up at the building.

"Not that I know of. You?" Dean says, then turns to me asking and I shake my head. "I picked up a trail here. Someone ran out of the back of this building, headed off this way" Sam says. "Just like your friends house" I say. "Yeah. And just like at Zach's house..the trail suddenly ends" Sam says.

"I mean, whatever it is just disappeared" He said confused and something clicked in my head. I look down and Dean nudges me. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" He asks me. "Yeah, I think so. There might be another way to go" I look up at Sam, nodding towards the sewer hole behind him.

He grimaces. "Aw come on!" He groans while me and Dean chuckle.

________________________________

We all climb down the drainage, closing back up the hole. Looking around it's a dark long corridor. "I bet this runs right by Zach's house too" Sam says. "The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around" I say as we walk towards Dean who's flashing his flashlight in a dark corner.

"Look at this" He says with a grimace on his face, stooping down to the ground. Infront of us is a pile of what looks like human skin, blood, hair and slime. It's all mushed into a gooey guck that smells like a rotting corpse.

"Oh gross" I gag in disgust. "Gimme your butterfly knife" Dean puts his hand out and I reach into my combat boots, pulling out the knife and handing it to him. He flicks it open, picking up a hair strand that's drenched in the slimy substance. Sam groans in disgust behind me. "Is this from his victims?" He questions and something crosses my mind.

"You know. I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape....maybe it sheds" I say and Dean coughs from the repulsive thought. "That is sick" Sam says, the grimace on his face deepening.

________________________________

Now back above ground. I turn to Dean asking him. "Yo. You got silver bullets?" I ask him and he nods. "Yeah, right here in baby" Dean opens the Impala trunk and takes out the silver bullets and I pull out my revolver.

"One thing I learned from Dad. No matter what kind of shapeshifter it is. There's only one sure way to kill it" I say, taking the silver bullets one by one and loading it. I look over to Sam who has a smirk on his face. "Silver bullet to the heart" He says, his dimples showing. "That's right" I say smiling. "Atta girl princess" Dean says proudly, patting the small of my back.

My heart leaps at the way he praised me and I feel a knot tie in my stomach when he touched my back. I cover it up with a smile and Sam's phone rings. He walks off to answer it. "This is Sam....We're near Zach's, we're just checking out some things" he says into the phone and I assume it's Rebecca.

"What're you talking about?" He asks confused and then sighs after a couple seconds. "Why would you do that??...Beck.... " He tries to defend and his face drops. "We're trying to help" He says sadly and Dean and I look at each other like 'oh shit'.

I can hear Rebecca's angry voice slightly but couldn't make out the words. "Look Beck I'm sorry but-" and then takes the phone off his ear. "Go easy on him" I whisper to Dean. "Nope" He says back and I roll my eyes before we close the trunk and walk back to the side of the car where Sam is.

"I hate to say it, but that's exactly what I'm talking about" Dean starts and I internally facepalm. Sam doesn't look at us. "You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you they'd be freaked" Dean finishes his lecture. "It's just- It'd be easier if-" I go to add but Sam cuts me off. "If I was like you two" He says sadly.

"Hey man, like it or not, we are not like other people" Dean says with a small smile on his face. "But I'll tell you one thing though, this whole gig..." I start, pulling out a gun with silver bullets and handing it to Sam. "..it ain't without perks" I say smugly, earning a chuckle from both boys. Sam takes the gun and sticks it behind his pants and we walk back down the block to make way back into the sewer.

________________________________

The dirty mucky water splatters at our feet as we walk through the sewers, flashing our lights through the empty hallow dark tunnel. After a few minutes of walking down the drainage. I spot a pile of skin on a pipe next to Sam and I nudge Dean, shining my light at it.

"I think we're close to its lair" I say. "Why do you say that?" Sam asks. "Cuz there's another puke-inducing pile next to your face" Dean indicates and Sam flinches. "Oh, God" He gasps in disgust and me and Dean snicker at this. I shine my light a little lower, revealing more skin, blood, gunk and old clothes on the ground.

"Looks like he's lived here for a while" I say. "No kidding Sherlock" Dean retorts back sarcastically, groaning and I roll my eyes at him. I cover my nose using my shirt to block the stench but it doesn't really help. "Who knows how many murders he's gotten away with" Sam says.

He turns to us, flashing the light behind us and yells "DEAN! Y/N!" And I feel a sharp pain behind my head, knocking me to the ground. Dean falls beside me, clutching his left shoulder as Sam shoots at the shapeshifter who attacked us but misses.

I moan in pain from the sudden attack. "Get the son of a bitch!" Dean groans in pain, holding his shoulder. I'm still on the ground, dazzled from the pain. Dean holds me up, wrapping my arm around his shoulder. "Come on, princess. I've got you" He says gently, helping me up and we bolt out of there.

We crawl out of the sewer hole. Grunting as we get out. Dean let's me up first and I take his hand to help him out. "Come on, charming. I've got you" I repeat his words to him and he gratefully takes my hand. "Alright. Let's split up" Sam says to us.

"Alright, I'll meet you guys on the other side. Stay together okay?" Dean instructs us and I nod curtly. "Be safe" I say quickly. "Ditto" He winks at me and we go in separate directions. Sam and I walk down the crowded street, concealing our weapons, looking for the shifter.

After some time, we come up empty. Now at a street corner. "Hey" We hear Deans voice behind us. "Anything?" He asks us and I shake my head. "No, he's gone" I say disappointed. "Alright, let's get back to the car" Dean says and we all make way back to Baby.

"You think he found another way underground?" Sam asks. "Yeah, probably. You got the keys?" Dean asks. "Hey, didn't Dad once face a shapeshifter in San Antonio?" Sam asks Dean suspiciously. "No. It was Austin. It turned out not to be a shapeshifter. It was thought form. A psychic projection, remember?". Dean says casually.

"Oh, right." Sam says shaking his head and chuckling. "Here you go" He throws the keys to Dean who caught his with his left shoulder....oh no. We walk back around the side of Baby as 'Dean' opens the trunk.

"His shoulder was hurt" I whisper to Sam, nudging him. "I know, that's why I threw it at his left" He whispers back. "You thinking what I'm thinking??" He asks me still whispering. I nod, "That ain't Dean" I say. We draw our guns and rush over to the trunk where 'Dean' was leaning down over it.

"Don't move you slimy bastard!" I yell, pointing my gun at 'Dean'. "What have you done with him!?" Sam demands as he points his gun at 'Dean'. He puts his hands up in surrender, taking a confused look. "Guys, chill. It's me alright" He says.

"No. I don't think so. Where's my brother!" Sam demands. "You're about to shoot him". 'Dean' retorts, gesturing to our guns. "Guys calm down" He tries to reason. "You caught those keys with your left. Your shoulder was hurt!" I tell him, knowing he was lying.

"Yeah, it's better. What do you want me to do, cry?" 'Dean' says sarcastically. "You're not my brother" Sam says wearily and I cock my gun, hesitant to shoot. "Why don't you pull the trigger then? Hmm? Because you're not sure. Guys, you know me." 'Dean' says and I hesitate. "Don't" I grit my teeth at him.

In a flash, he knocks the gun out of both of our hands. I feel another sharp pain in my head and everything goes black.

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My eyes flutter open, a throbbing pain in my head. My vision is slightly blurred but I open my eyes to see Sam. "Sammy?" I groan, my voice raspy from the pain. I feel a dampness on my legs, my neck is tied to a post, my arms bounded behind me. We're back in the sewer, captured by Deans evil twin, great.

Sam's across the room from me passed out, tied exactly like me. Sam eventually comes to, groaning in pain like me. I see movement behind Sam, only it's Shapeshifter Dean. He walks up to Sam with a straight face, ropes in his arm. He back hands him across his cheek and I scream. "DONT TOUCH HIM YOU SLIMY BASTARD!" Trying to rip out of my binds but it's expertly tied.

Sam grunts in pain taking a deep breath. "Where is he??" Sam asks the imposter. "Where's Dean you face stealing freak!" I yell angrily. Ready to maul the son of a bitch if he hurt Dean. "I wouldn't worry about him. I'd worry about you" Shapeshifter Dean says, turning to me.

"Same goes for you, Princess" He winks at me, smirking and I grimace. "Where is he?" Sam asks again. "You really don't wanna know" The Shapeshifter says morbidly, chuckling. "I swear, the more I learn about you two and your families...I thought I came from a bad background" Shapeshifter Dean says ironically.

"What do you mean learn?" Sam asks as the shifter pulls out a knife, examining it. The shifter starts holding his head, cringing and grunting as if he's in pain. He then turns back to Sam, a slight smirk on his face. "He's sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home" He taunts Sam, walking towards him and dropping his bag.

"I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don't think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?" Shapeshifter Dean says irritated but Sam isn't letting up. "Where...is my brother?" Sam demands again. "I'm your brother" Shapeshifter Dean says, leaning down to eye level with Sam.

"See, deep down, I'm just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I'm a freak. And sooner or later, everybody's gonna leave me." Shapeshifter Dean says, walking a bit back. "What are you talking about?" Sam asks. "You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me too. No explanation, nothing, just. Poof. Left me with your sorry ass" He walks towards Sam.

"But still, this life...it's not without its perks" Shapeshifter Dean repeats my words from earlier. "I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky, seeing as Dean is so convinced he doesn't have a chance with Y/N and is so stupid to not even admit his feelings for her to himself. He would bang little Becky if he had the chance" Shapeshifter Dean says and I freeze, my heart feels like it's gonna fall out of my chest.

What the fuck? Is he high or something? He's got to be lying. Demons do it to weaken their targets. Surely shifters do it too because he was just taunting Sam. Sam looks over to me quickly and Shapeshifter Dean turns to me.

"And sweet sweet little Y/N.." He coos, striding over to me. "He has quite the thing for you..I mean me. Gotta admit though, I've got amazing taste in women" He crouches down and rests his hand on my cheek, which makes me feel physically ill.

"Don't touch her!" Sam shouts protectively and I nod at him to ensure him I'm fine. I move my head away from him but he just comes closer to me. The smile on his face makes my stomach churn and not in a good way.

"You are the package deal. You're sexy, smart, snarky, and funny. You know how to keep me on my toes, challenge me. You make me laugh in any situation despite how stressful it is. Hell, I hate to admit it but you keep me in line whenever I'm acting like the dick I am" He chuckles at the last part, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

"Sometimes I'm even a bit jealous at the friendship you have with Sammy....But the way you would look at me sometimes, your flirty little comebacks, the way you would sway your hips when you walk, the sight of you on that bike of yours....oh mannn....gets me going everytime" He licks his lips looking at me with a lustful gaze and I feel a chill run down my spine in disgust.

"Jesus dude, at least by me dinner first" I sneer at him and he chuckles. "See? That's the snark I'm talking about" He says, smiling at me and rubbing his thumb on my bottom lip. "Where.Is.Dean?" I grit my teeth at him. "I'm right here baby" He says huskily and I groan.

"I remember how stoked I was when you didn't hesitate to come with us to find my dad...then your daddy went missing too...tsk tsk tsk...poor thing" He says sympathetically, clicking his tongue.

"You grew from this adorable shy timid girl who was afraid of her daddy to this beautiful confident badass women who stood her ground against her controlling father and left..." He trails off as if he's recollecting something, then he roughly grabs my hair, pulling it harshly causing me to wince in pain.

"LET GO OF HER YOU DICK!" Sam yells from across the room, trying to rip out of his bindings. "Did you know when you ran away, your dad had me looking for you for months!" He shouts in my face. "Hauled my ass from Washington to Florida and back!"

"You should've never run away you little bitch" He seethes through his teeth pulling my hair more making me cry out in pain. "You're lucky I covered for your ass every single time, I knew exactly where you were and I had to lead him away every time because I was trying to be a good friend!". He grits his teeth in anger

"You did me just like Sam and walked out when I needed you most! Sam left and then you! God you two are selfish" His tone is pained, betrayed. And I snap, a sick thought crossing my mind but I'm too angry to care right now if he kills me or not.

"Well let me make it up to you" I say suggestively, flashing him a coy smile. Hes fully taken back at this. My eyes flicker to Sam and. I can see his expression go from angry to confused from across the room. A clear look of shock is evident but a sickening smirk on Shapeshifter Dean's face.

"And how would you do that, princess?" He says huskily. I could see Sam's face contorting to disgust across the room, confused and angry. "Lay a kiss on me charming, you wouldn't regret it" I wink at him, smiling seductively.

"You're kidding?" He says surprised, chuckling, his grip loosening on my hair. "No jokes" I grit my teeth, trying to hide my disgust. "WHAT THE FUCK!?" Sam yells from across the room.

Shapeshifter Dean's eyes flicker down to my lips, when leans in to kiss me, just as his lips is centimeters away from mine. I hawk up a loogie, spitting it in his face and draw my head back instantly, head-butting him in his nose.

"YOU BITCH!" He screams in pain. He holds his nose, stumbling back. When he recovers, he draws his fist back, right hooking me in my face, hard. "STOP IT!" Sam pleads begging. I turn my head back to Shapeshifter Dean, laughing, a victorious grin on my face. The metallic taste of blood and saliva coating my taste buds.

"Fuck you, you even punch like a bitch. That's to show you'll never be Dean" I sneer at him, spitting the blood out from my mouth on the ground besides me. He groans in pain, grabbing a tarp covering Sam who's yelling at him. He then grabs another to cover me but before he does, he looks at me and says. "I can't wait to kill you" and I smirk.

"Look at me good. Remember this face clearly. Cuz I'll be the last thing you see when I put a bullet in your head, you skin shedding, goopy son of a bitch!" My tone is deadly as I seethe through my teeth. "Well...if it ain't working with you...let's see how it works out with Becky" he winks at me. Covering me with the tarp.

Sometime later, the tarp slips off me and I see Sam struggling. "You okay?" He asks concerned. I shrug, blood still dripping from my mouth. "I can take a punch" I chuckle weakly, trying to slip out of the bounds. "Damn it" Sam grumbles. "Can't get out either" I tell him. We hear a bit of movement and someone coughing. "That better be you, Sam and Y/N and not that freak of nature" Dean voice echos through the sewer and I chuckled sighing in relief as Sam laughs.

"Yeah, it's us. He went to Rebecca's, looking like you" Sam says grunting as me and he try to get out of the ropes. "Well, he's not stupid. He picked the handsome one" Dean says smugly and Sam looks back offended. I chuckle lightly at this. He sure did.

"That's the thing, he didn't look like you. He was you...or he was becoming you" Sam says to us as we try to get out of the ropes. "What do you mean?" Dean asks. "I don't know, it's like he was downloading your thoughts and memories" Sam says.

"You mean like the Vulcan Mind Meld" Dean asks. "Yeah, something like that. Maybe that's why he doesn't just kill us?" Sam says. Dean gets out of his ropes and goes around to Sam saying, "Maybe...he needs to keep us alive for the psychic connection" He says untying Sam. "Yeah, come on, we gotta go. He's probably already at Rebecca's" Sam says.

Dean comes around and unties me. He notices the blood on my mouth. "Jesus, what did he do to you Princess" He asks gently when he notices my busted mouth. He holds my face in his hands, worry etched on his face. "I'm good charming" I smile at him, reaching up to hug him. "Let's go fellas" I say and we all get out of there.

"Come on, we gotta find a phone. Call the police" Sam says to us as we climb out of the hole, leading us to an alleyway. "Whoa whoa whoa. You're gonna put an APB out on me?" Dean says, helping me out. "Sorry" Sam says shrugging. "This way" Dean leads us down the alley.

A little later, after Sam made the phone call to the police, we're on the street infront of a shop with TVs showing the local news, with a crappy sketch of Dean. "An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End where a SWAT team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately 24-30 years old was discovered hiding in the home. Shots were fired-" The reporter says but Dean cuts it off saying, "Man, that's not even a good picture!" He exclaims. "It's good enough" Sam says as I shake my head and we walk back down the street.

"If you ask me, I think the bastard was talking a pack of bullcrap to throw us off. Like what demons do" I suggest and Sam cocks his eyebrow at me. "It didn't seem like it Y/N. He had certain memories only Dean should know" Sam says and I huff.

I don't look him in the eye because I already know where he's getting at. As much as I would love to believe what that shifter said as Dean is true. It couldn't be. Can it?

"Why don't you think he was lying?" Dean asks and I shake my head, Sam looks over at me urging. "He just said a ton of crap, that's all" I say. "And he tried to kiss her" Sam interjects. "He what!?" Dean yells pissed. "Relax!" I put my hand in his shoulder.

"I hawked a loogie in his face and head-butted him in the nose with my forehead" I say and Dean grins proudly. "Atta girl" He says proudly, patting my cheek and my heart leaps. He needs to stop doing that I swear.

We walk further into an alley way and Dean almost trips on a puddle of water and it splashes on him, "Come on!" He yells. "They said attempted murder. At least we know-" Sam says and Dean cuts him off. "I didn't kill her" Dean says."I'll check on Rebecca in the morning , see if she's alright" Sam says.

"Well first I'm gonna find that handsome Devil and kick the holy crap outta him" Dean says aggressively. "I might just beat you to it" I growl, still pissed about what happened down there. He looks me over a bit shocked but it seems like he understands why I'm pissed.

"Guys. We have no weapons, no silver bullets" Sam tells us. "Sam, the guy's walking around with my face AND he tried to kiss Y/N. It's a little personal. Okay? We wanna find him" Dean turns to Sam irritated. Sam just nods, "Okay. Where do we look?" Sam asks. "Well we could start with the sewers" I suggest." We have no weapons. He stole our guns. We need more." Sam reminds us.

"The car?" I say. "I bet he drove over to Rebecca's" Dean says. "The news said he fled on foot. I bed it's still parked there" Sam says. "Oh the thought of him driving my car" Dean growls. "Alright, Hulk Hogan. Come on" I say patting Deans back as we walk back down the alley. "Its killing me" Dean says angrily. "Let it go" Sam shoots back.

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After some time of walking, we end up a few blocks from Rebecca's by foot. "There she is" Dean breaths out a sigh of relief after seeing Baby. "Finally, something went right tonight" Dean says happily as we walk towards baby. Suddenly a squad car comes around the corner, sirens wailing.

"Oh crap" I mutter and the boys and I run down the alleyway. Only to be cornered by another car at the end. "Whoa whoa whoa" Dean says surprised. "This way! This way!" Dean leads us out and we follow behind him running.

We come up to a wall. "You guys go. I'll hold them off" Sam says and I nod. "What're you talking about?!" Dean exclaims. "They'll catch you!" I yell at Sam. "Look. They can't hold me! Just go, keep out of sight! Meet me at Rebecca's" Sam order us and we sigh scaling the walls. "Dean. Y/N! Stay out of the sewers alone!" Sam shouts and we jump over, now on the other side

"I mean it!" Sam yells. "Yeah yeah!" I shout back irritated. Dean looks at me trying to catch his breath. "What're you thinking about?" I ask him after seeing the look on his face. "You know me princess, I can't wait" He says smugly and I sigh. "Fine let's go. We'll wait for it to clear out and get baby" I say.

"You can't-" He starts but I cut him off. "Don't you dare Winchester. I'm coming. End of discussion. We protect each other right?" I say firmly and he smirks at me. "Damn straight" He grins.

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When the sun comes up, me and Dean head back down to the sewer. Trudging through the tunnel there's piles of skin littered all over. We come up to a corner where there's candles lit and a bunch of chains. We hear some movement and I nudge Dean.

"This way" I say and he follows behind me. We see what looks like someone covered with a tarp like what me and Sam were covered with. Dean pulls it off and it reveals, "Rebecca?" We say shocked. She's all bloody and busted up. Her hair scattered all about. "What happened?!" I ask her as me and Dean untie her.

"I was walking home and everything just went white. Someone hit me over the head and I wound up here just in time to see that thing turn into me" She explains shakily, tears drenching her face. "How is that possible?!" She asks sobbing. "Okay. Okay. It's okay. Come on. Can you walk?" Dean tries to calm her down and she nods.

"Okay. We gotta hurry okay hun? Sam went to see you" I tell her and she grabs onto us. We get her out of the sewer and into Deans car.

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Me and Dean pull up to Rebecca's house and bolt out of Baby. We knock her door down, just in time to see the shifter as Dean ontop of Sam in the middle of the living room choking him. "Hey!" Dean yells. Both of us aiming our guns at him. The shifter stumbles off of Sam, looking at us like he's ready to attack.

I don't give him time to and I shoot twice, right in his chest and he launches backwards into the wall, dropping dead. I don't notice Rebecca come behind us through the door. "Sam" she says concerned, running over to check on him.

Me and Dean walk closer slowly towards the dead shifter and kneel next to him, listening to make sure he's dead. I pull Deans chain that he stole that was around his neck and hand it to Dean. He gives me a grateful smile and wraps it in his hand, I smile back at him and look over back to the dead shifter.

"Told you I'd be the one to kill you" I growl angrily.

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The next day, we're outside parked waiting for Sam to finish talking to Rebecca. Dean's leaning of Baby's hood checking a map for our next hunt. While I'm bracing on her, smoking a cigarette. He comes and sits next to me, judging me a bit.

I look over to him and smile. "You okay princess?" He asks me concerned and I just look down and nod. "I'm fine charming" I smile at him reassuringly. "I don't know what he said to you, but whatever it was, don't let it get to you" He says calmly, placing his hand on the small of my back comfortingly.

I look into his eyes and notice it softened a bit. Wondering if what that shapeshifter said could be true. Does Dean have a thing for me?

"I won't. I promise" I say smiling at him, flicking my burnt out cigarette to the side. His eyes pierce mine and I gulp a bit. I could've sworn he glanced at my lips again but our heated gaze is cut off by Rebecca and Sam coming of of the house. "So this is what you do. You, your brother and best friend, you hunt down these kinds of things?" Rebecca says and Sam chuckles.

They have a short conversation before they hug. She waves at us. Me and Dean wave at her back before she walks in and Sam sighs walking towards us. "So what about your friend Zach?" Dean asks. "Cops are blaming this Dean Winchester guy for Emily's murder" Sam says to us ironically.

"They found the murder weapon in the guy's lair..Zach's clothes stained with her blood. Now they're thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with. Yeah Becca says Zach will be released soon" Sam says to us nodding and smiling.

"Hate to be that guy" I joke and Dean rolls his eyes at me as we jump in his car.

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As we're driving down the empty road. Dean turns to Sam. "Sorry man" He says. "About what?" Sam asks. "I really wish things could be different you know, I wish you could just be...Joe College" Dean says apologetically. "It's okay" Sam says causally taking a deep breath. "You know truth is, even at Stanford, deep down. I never really fit in" Sam says.

"Well, that's cuz you're a freak" I pipe up jokingly from the backseat and he turns to me smiling. "Yeah thanks" He says sarcastically laughing. "Well, I'm a freak too. And so is Dean." I shrug smiling, Dean looks at me in the rearview mirror and winks. I try to hide my blush but I'm sure he noticed. "And we're right there with you all the way" Dean adds supportively.

"Yeah, I know you are" Sam nods smiling. "You know, I gotta say, I'm sorry I'm gonna miss it" Dean says. "Miss what?" Sam asks. "How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?" He jokes and I laugh along with Sam.

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Authors Note:

This is unedited so I'm sorry if there's alot of mistakes. Hope whoever is reading enjoys. Thank you!☺️

Xoxo

#dean winchester #spn #sam winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean and sam #sam and dean #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fandom #supernatural tv show #supernatural fanfiction

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kaylinlmfao · 2 years

Text

Fuck you

Type of piece(s): imagine, oneshot, drabble, series

Type(s) of writing: smut, angst, fluff, dark

Pairing(s): dom!yandere!ghostface!billy loomis x shy!sarcastic!sub!fem!reader x dom!yandere!ghostface!sidney prescott

Warning(s): non con/rape, dub con, knife play, overstimulation, murder, blood, swearing, violence, mommy kink, daddy kink, dacryphilia, blood kink, dirty talk, nipple play, praise kink, slight public sex, innocence kink, reader goes into sub space, choking, hairpulling, fingering (r receiving), face sitting (sidney receiving), floor sex, hate/angry sex, drugging, ownership kink

Summary: when reader finds out that her best friends are the ones who killed her parents and Tatum & Stu, reader feels more hate towards them than ever. But all they've ever felt is obsessed with her. So they keep her with them forever

A/N: this is my first fic and of course its dark as shit so beware. Give me some much needed feedback and let me know how y'all feel! (I listened to Teddy Bear & Tag You're It by Melanie Martinez for the beginning and Shameless by Camila Cabello during the smut scene. Just if you want, it helps make the story more vivid and lucid)

(Pics from Pinterest)

"Tate? Ready to go?" I yell up the stairs. "You're taking a trillion years Tatum!" "One sec!" She calls back down. "Jesus, Tate! Its just a party, not prom. Sid, come back me up!" "Tate, hurry up." Sidney says without even looking over so used to our arguing. I turn when I hear footsteps thudding down the stairs, Tatum ready to go. "Finally!" I groan, grabbing her hand to pull her out the door, where Dewey has been waiting in the car for like 30 minutes now. "Wait! How do I look, Y/N?" "Gorgeous, as always. Even if you show up in a ratty old house dress, you'd still look gorgeous. So I don't understand why you need an hour to get ready."

Tatum gives me a kiss on the lips as Sid walks over. "Its called preparation, Y/N." Tatum and I weren't dating but we've been best friends since kindergarten. We've kissed as friends since we were 13. Some of her boyfriends had a problem with it, but Stu didn't care. He knew Tatum and I were besties, nothing more. As we walked out the door, I didn't notice Sidney glaring at Tate in anger and jealously while we held hands.

We pulled into the street across from Stu's house as Dewey climbs out and opens the door for Sid. I slide out after her and Tate after me. "Be careful. I'll be over here, talking to Gale and looking around, ok?" "Yeah, ok Dewey boy." Tatum says, dragging me inside where Stu was greeting people at the door. "Y/N! Welcome to my humble castle." "Seriously Stu, don't put any effort into the theatrics." I smile, giving him a side hug as Tate and Sid walks in and I stay with Stu, greeting people as they walk in.

"Hey, Y/N! I'm going to grab a beer, you want one?" Tatum asks. "No, that's alright. Thanks anyways. Be careful." I tell her, turning back to continue my conversation with Stu about the recent kills that have been happening in Woodsboro. About 5 minutes later, Billy pops out of nowhere at the door. "Jesus Christ Billy boy. I'm gonna get you a cow bell or something so you can't sneak up on me anymore." I laugh, smiling and giving him a hug as I go to find Sid and Tate. "Hey Sid, have you seen Tatum anywhere?" "Um, no I haven't. You wanna come upstairs and breathe in peace without any screaming or anything?" "Sure" I say, bounding up the stairs.

I take a nice big deep breath as I flop down onto Stu's parents bed. "Thanks Sid. You always seem to know exactly what I need before I even know I need it." "I know babydoll. Its what I'm here for." I blush ay the nickname and just laugh it off. I can't help but get flustered at how she stands between my legs and looks down at me. No. I'm single and I'm not looking to mingle. I sit up quickly, looking up at Sidney. "Well thanks again Sid. I needed this but I should probably go downstairs, finish the movie, find Tate, y'know?" "Hmm" she nods. As I stand up, I realize she hasn't backed up. We're so close I can feel her everywhere, our lips inches apart. "Well, bye Sidney!" I call, bounding out the door.

So that was weird. I'll just find Tate and finish the movie. "Hey, Randy! Where is everyone?" I question him as I walk into the living room, seeing it empty. "Oh there was this phone call about Principal Himbry has been killed and is hanging from a football post or something." I jump onto the couch next to him. "You think its true?" I ask. "Maybe. I don't really care though. I just wanna finish the movie." "Alright." I nod, standing. "Where ya going?" "To find Tatum or Billy or Sid or Stu. I'll be right back." Randy's head jerks to look at me. "Kidding Rand. Kinda." "Jesus, Y/N." I laugh as I walk up the stairs to see if Tate and Stu are fucking in a room somewhere like they usually are.

I open the door to Stu's bedroom and walk in with my hand covering my eyes, just in case. "Stu? Tatum? Y'all in here." Suddenly, I hear a loud slicing sound and a gargled shout. "Y/N!" I move my hand and see the Ghostface killer in the mask and Sid laying stabbed on the bed. "Oh shit." I say, turning and running as the killer bounds over the bed towards me. "Motherfucker! I'm too young to die! Shit! Ow! Fuck you, you fucking bitch!" I scream as I run around the house, locking door and creating obstacles along the way. "I am way too out of shape for this shit! Can I have a headstart? Bitch! Randy! Stu! Billy! Tatum? Anybody? Fuck!"

I run into a room with a window and I lay the ironing board across the bottom of the door. "Asshole" I say, clamoring out of the window. I feel someone grab my shoulder as they try to pull me back in. "Bitch!" I yell, jumping as I swing my fist back, hitting them in the face. I groan as I roll off of the boat and land on the concrete. I look up at the garage door and scream and choke out a sob as I see my childhood best friend hanging, dead, from the garage door. I stand back up as I run to the news van parked outside. I bang on the door as the camera man, Kenny opens it and I climb in, slamming the door behind me. I look at the cameras set up and I see Ghostface creeping up behind Randy, preparing to stab him.

"Fuck! Move Randy! Move!" "Move kid!" Kenny jumps out of the van to go inside but I notice the front door is open. I watch the footage of the killer running outside, leaving Randy. "Shit! He's-" I'm cut off with a slicing sound as blood spurts from Kenny's neck. I scream and let out a string of curse words as I clamor out the back hole of the news van. I glance around, not seeing the killer but I see Dewey. "Dewey! Randy! He's inside! The killer is gone and I don't know where he went!" I yell, chest heaving, exhausted. "I knew I should've stayed home." The adrenaline is beginning to fade as I see Dewey walk out of the house. "Dewey! Did you-" I see a knife sticking out his back as he calls out, "run!" Before he collapsed. I see the killer standing behind him, pulls the knife out of Dewey's back and starts bolting towards me.

I start running again even though I want to lay down and cry. But I won't. I pick up speed as I think of my parents, who were also killed by Ghostface. I think about my sister, who is at home waiting for me. I think of Sidney, Billy, Tatum, Randy, and Stu. All for the people I love. After a few minutes, I slow to catch my breath and I see the van lights flashing. I wave my hands around and Gale swerves off of the road. What the fuck? I can drive better than that. Oh shit. Randy. He's still in the house. I start running back already on the brink of passing the fuck out. "Oh Randy. You better thank me for this later. I've never run this much except for the time where that big ass dog was chasing me."

I stop up at the porch and grab Dewey's gun out of his pocket, turning the safety off and pointing it as Randy and Billy come out of different directions. "Oh fuck, Y/N. We've gotta get the fuck outta here! I found Tatum and I think Billy killed her." "No I didn't, Y/N! You know me. Baby, give me the gun." He says, shoving Randy out of the way. "Back the fuck up Billy or I swear to God, I will blow your brains all over this front yard. You too Randy." They both start blabbering at once and I can't focus. "Fuck you both!" I say, slamming the door in their faces. They both continue banging on the door. "Go away! Please leave me alone." I shout, sliding down against the door, burying my head in my knees.

"Y/N?" I hear Sid ask before she tumbles down the stairs. "Oh shit. Sid, you're bleeding! Are you ok?" I ask, running over to help her. She hobbles to the door and holds her hand out. "Give me the gun. It's ok Y/N. I'm here now." I pass the gun slowly to her, no hesitation. That was my final mistake of the night. She opens the door and Randy comes flying in. "Holy shit. Billy's gone mad!" "We all go a little mad sometimes." Sidney turns with a smirk on her face as she shoots Randy in the shoulder. "Oh fuck." Randy says before he falls. "Sidney? What the fuck?" I yell, running over to help Randy seeing he's unconscious.

I turn and I start to run away before running straight into Billy's chest. "Billy please, help me!" He just looks down at me before pulling a voice changer and talking into it. "Surprise, Y/N." I look back at Sidney, who looks at me like what are you gonna do? Bitch. This is what the fuck I'm gonna do. I shove Billy out of my way and I run to the kitchen. Suddenly, Sidney pops out and points the gun at me. "Woah. Woah. Calm down there princess." I back slowly towards the counter. "You fucking bitches. Oh Jesus Chris. I'm so stupid. This is all my fault. My fault."

"Honestly, sweetheart. It is. We killed all these people for you. All for you. Your parents." I choked back a cry. "Your Tatum." Sidney adds. I let out a sob. "Why? What did I do to you?" "Well, princess. You hated your parents, so we got rid of them for you." "But I love Tate." "No! You don't love her. You love us." She told me, picking up the knife from Billy and tracing it down my cheek. The adrenaline from the nights events is wearing off and I begin to actually register what I've done. What I've seen. Sidney stands in front of me and Billy has his head on her shoulder.

"Why? Why me?" "Because we love you, sweetheart" I break down for the first time that night, falling into Sidney's arms as I sob. "Get away from me. Leave me alone. Please!" I start to hyperventilate as I think of Tatum and my parents being brutally murdered. And it was all my fault. My fault that Dewey was stabbed. My fault Randy was shot. I fall to my knees, sobbing. I'm having a panic attack. I haven't had one this bad since I got the news my parents were found. "In and out. In and out. Come on, Y/N. Breathe. In and out." I hear Tatum's voice guiding me as I calm myself.

I stand, looking at the two people who sat with me after my parents died, comforting me, helping me through it when in reality, it was them who caused it. All the pain I feel. It was them. I don't see friends anymore. I see targets. I grab a knife off of the counter and feel it in my hand. Can I really kill them? I love them. But not as much as I love Tatum. Or mom and dad. I don't see Billy so tackle Sid and pin her. Who knew wrestling would come in handy. I pin the knife to her neck and look at her. She's so much prettier up close. "You won't do it, baby girl. You can't." I press the knife down harder as she stares into my eyes.

"Do it."

I raise the knife then drop it with a loud groan of frustration. "Why can't I do it?" I ask myself. I feel myself being suddenly jerked back and something cold being pressed on my black short dress and breasts. "Because you love this. You love all of it. I bet if I stuck my hand down your dress, your panties would be soaked. Sidney, would you like to check?" "Hmm" she nodded, sticking her hand up my dress and brushing them over my pulsing pussy. "Soaked, Billy." I whimper as Billy slits my dress in half, Sidney ripping it off. I realize the position I'm in. I'm straddling Sidney and Billy is holding a knife off to my left.

I'm left in my black bra and panties set and my thigh high stockings. "These fucking stockings, pretty girl. Everyday, you wear these stupid fucking stockings and everyday, I wanna fuck the shit outta you every time I see you in them." I let out a soft whine as I hear Billy's words and I feel Sidney's thumb circling my clit slowly through my underwear. Suddenly, I'm flipped over on my back on the floor and Sidney's by my head, sticking her fingers down the back of my throat. Then, Billy comes up towards my face and I see his cock. That won't fit inside me. In my mouth or my pussy. "Suck it like a slut." He orders as I take his dick in my mouth as to avoid him getting angry.

I moan around his cock as I feel Sid's fingers slide deep inside my cunt, deeper then mine could reach. I suck harder on Billy's dick as he begins thrusting, hitting the back of my throat and groaning at the feeling of me gagging around his dick. Sidney starts pistoning her fingers in and out of my pussy so fast that I reach down to grab her fingers to slow her down. "Oh now now baby doll. You were doing so good for mommy and daddy. Move your hands." Sid commands, slapping my hands away as she continues pistoning her fingers quickly, in and out.

"Fuck" Billy groans as something goes down my throat. "Swallow." I swallow obediently and look up innocently at Billy. "So good for daddy and mommy baby." My pussy clenches harder around Sidney's fingers as I arch my back and let out a loud moan as I cum for the first of many times tonight. "Good girl." Billy comes and trades places with Sidney as Sidney comes to straddle my face. Billy starts rubbing the tip of his cock against my cunt as he starts to push his dick inside my dripping pussy. It won't fit. It won't fit. I'm a virgin! But then he pushes himself all the way in to the hilt as I let out a scream.

He reaches up and chokes me, not enough to where I can't breathe, but just enough to where I reach that fuzzy feeling and drift off into subspace and stopped screaming. Sidney begins riding my face and making out with Billy as he thrusts in and out of my cunt so hard, I see stars and a quickly approaching 2nd orgasm. I let out a cry as I cum for the second time. Shortly after, Sidney comes and I drink all of her juices like a good girl. Sidney sits back and watches and plays with my nipples as Billy's dick disappears in and out of my pussy, his cock coated in red from my blood. Billy pinches my pulsing clit, hard as I cum for a third time.

"Please! No more! No more! Can't take anymore daddy, mommy. Fuck, please no more." "Oh come on, princess. Be a good girl and give mommy and daddy one more. One more. Then you can suck. Ok?" Sidney says as I come again, my eyes rolling back into my head, my hoarse voice screaming mommy and daddy, the tears streaking down my cheeks, all sends Billy over the edge. "We fucking own you. You fucking belong to us, Y/N." Billy groans out. After Billy pulls out of my dripping wet cunt with a mixture of my cum, his cum, and my blood, Sidney cradles me in her lap and let's me suck on her nipple, praising me while Billy goes to get something. I'm not registering anything that's happening except for the good girls and the I'm so proud of yous.

"Good girl. You're mommy's good girl, aren't you Y/N? Mommy's so proud of you. You were so good for mommy and daddy." Billy leans down and gives Sidney a quick kiss. Sidney leans down and kisses me, slipping her tongue in my mouth along with a little pill. "Mommy? What was that?" I asked, starting to feel sleepy. "Just something that will help us to bring you home easier." "Mommy? Daddy?" "Yes, princess?" They say in unison. I bury my head into Sidney's breasts as I mumble two words.

"Fuck you"

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