#and my dad will point at a flannel jacket and tell me to go try it on or he'll blow the whole place up

[naaddiie]

Dyking it up at Dunnes. Any of youse want anything?

[ashecampos]

ANYONE BUT HER

Reader x Janis Imi-ike

Warnings - smoking, alcohol, drugs, swearing, cheating, mentions of anxiety.

there will be more parts to this, make sure to reblog and comment and I will get the next few parts up as soon as I can, happy reading lovelies 🫶🏼

“DAMIEN WE HAVE TO HAUL ASS IF WE WANT TO MAKE IT TO THIS GIG” Janis shouts at her best friend as she grabs his car keys and runs to the door leaving her jacket on the stairs. Not a moment goes until her best friend is also running out of the door behind her, shutting it and jumping in his car.

—

“For the love of Bowie please tell me one of you guys have a spare pick” I say running onto the stage where my band are setting up for the gig. My brother Aaron looks at me, points at my necklace. A guitar pick hanging from a chain. I dramatically place my hand over the pick and point at him “nuh uh this” I point at the pick “this was dads”. He rolls his eyes and throws me a pick.

I look over at my girlfriend who is talking to our bassist over at the bar, rolling my eyes I place my guitar down and go out back for a quick breather.

—

“So Cady what do you know about music?” Damien questions his new neighbour/ future classmate who had only came to the US a month ago. “nothing..but oh I know this really cool African band from my hometown you mig-“ Cady starts talking about Africa as Janis eagerly slaps Damien’s arm, cutting the poor girl off. “Dude look” Janis signals over to y/n after grabbing her two friends’ attention. “who is that?” Cady asks not missing the fact that her new friend is openly eye fucking this random girl whose face is hidden by the cloud of smoke coming from her cigarette. “Oh baby, that right there is the definition of ‘rockstar girlfriend’ also but not limited to hot guitar hero” Damien flails his hands toward the girl in question as Janis just stares. “Oh here we go, doors are open, I repeat lady’s doors are open” he squeals like a little girl going to see a boyband.

Blowing out a cloud of smoke I fiddle with my lighter in my hands, trying to calm my pre show jitters. My mind is somewhere else, as usual. Looking around at the que of people waiting to see us only made my anxiety worse. A warm hand grabs my arm and pulls me back into the venue “dude what the fu-“ shit “cmon we have to be on in five, if your going to be sick do it now and quick” my ever so loving girlfriend states as she drags me to the curtain backstage where the rest of the band is waiting.

One by one we walk out onto the stage.

Aaron goes on first, he’s our drummer and my twin brother. He’s wearing his usual get up of dark blue jeans, a hoodie and a flannel with some airforces.

Then goes Jason, our bassist. Or should I say our token fuck boy. He is wearing black jeans with a white long sleeved polo shirt.

Next is me, the guitar. I’m sporting my favourite black Levi’s, a dark red corset top I was forced against my will to wear by my girlfriend and a leather jacket, my guitar slung around my body so it’s resting on my back. My curly black hair bounces as I walk to my spot of the stage and plugging my guitar into the amp as I sling it around to the front of my body.

Lastly Bea. My girlfriend, our singer saunters out onto stage. She is wearing a black mini dress and heels. She looks plastic. Like a Barbie. She wasn’t like this a few weeks ago. She was just her usual perfect self. But she’s changed.

The crowd goes wild and the lights shine brighter onto us as Bea introduces the band.

The show goes great. Perfect even. We finish our set and the crowd stays, some drifting to the bar a few leaving to catch the late bus home. But a lot stayed to meet the band.

I place my guitar on the stand and straighten Jason’s bass while the rest of the band walk toward the bar, I take a B line towards the exit door, only to be pulled away by my arm. Now I walk to the bar with the rest of them. “What can I getcha baby?” The bartender asks, leaning over the bar a little with a smirk. “Double tequila straight, hold off the rocks and a sex on the beach for the lady please” I say with a smile. “Stop flirting with the sleaze bag of a server” Bea nudges me. “I wasn’t even…never mind” I sigh out, handing Bea her drink and downing my double shot.

We all separate and mingle with the fans. I end up standing in the corner of the room talking to some guys who want tips on how to hold a pick, you know the usual stuff. That’s when I see my girlfriend making out with Jason. I excuse myself and run out of the venue, my breath choppy and my vision blurry. I end up leaning against the stone wall of the bar, tears unknowingly flowing down my face, ruining my makeup.

—

“See I told you these guys were good” Janis shouts over the crowd to state the obvious as the show ends and people start to part ways.

..

The band comes out to cool off with the audience who is left, Janis, Damien and Cady being a group of them. “Holy shit” Janis says under her breath as she watches the singer and the bassist start making out. “Ohh fuck” Damien finishes Janis’ sentiment of shock as they witness the guitar player stumble out of the bar. “should we go see is they are okay?” Cady asks, Janis and Damien put their drinks down as if the question had restarted their brains and placed them back into reality. The group then follow the girl outside where they find her sat in the floor against the brick wall, her knees up to her chest, hands covering her face.

“Cady go find Aaron, drummer boy and let him know his sister is a mess but to not to worry, Damien go make sure singer or bassist does not come out here” Janis quickly springs into action.

—

She cheated, she fucking cheated with our bassist. Does she even know that I saw? Would she even care? I can’t believe that she che- “hey, is it okay if I touch you?” I girls voice breaks me out of my thoughts suddenly. I slowly take my hands away from my face and nod, observing the girl. She’s from my school, I’ve seen her before.

She slowly sits down next to me and takes a hold of my hand. That’s when it hits me. It’s my brother’s girlfriend’s ex. What was her name? Janine? No Janis? Yes Janis. Why was she at our gig? “Your girlfriends a douchebag” she says with a sad smile “you mean my ex girlfriend” i say barley above a whisper, my voice threatening to crack. “hey why don’t you come with me and my friends, we are going back to Damien’s to binge watch crappy VHS films and drink shitty beer. You down pretty girl?” She says reeking of confidence and hope that she can lift my spirits. Shrugging I agree before I am swept off of my feet and into a car with two new people and Janis.

—

Y/N SAMUELS is sat next to me right now. Definitely not something I expected to be saying. She’s like a goddess. She’s worse than plastic, she’s like stained glass. Fragile as fuck but so breathtakingly beautiful. I don’t know much about her but I know I need to have her.

—

I’m sleepy upset and now in a car with two randoms and Janis Imi’ike, not that I’m complaining. She’s really pretty the more I look at her. She rocks a cropped mötley crüe T-shirt with some black baggy jeans and docs. Her style has got to be one of the best I’ve seen even at school she somehow manages to catch my eye in the hallways or in classes. The car comes to a halt and I look at her again, now she is looking back at me with a grin, her hand held out ready for me to take it.

Damien’s basement is really nice, it’s been converted into a makeshift cinema room with two sofas, one of which being a two seater the other being a one seater. “Nice place” I say nodding my head at Damien “why thankyou my new pocket sized lesbian friend” he quips back. “Rude, for your information you’re just freakishly tall” we all laugh a little, his and Cady sit on the two seater while Janis who is still holding my hand guides us to the one seater. Putting a blanket over us to keep us warm she then places her hand on my waist while Damien starts playing a movie. I instantly recognise it as the conjuring 2013. Smiling I look up at Janis and say “it’s like he knew I would end up here tonight” she chuckles and shakes her head.

Never in my life did I think Y/N would be here hanging out with the three of us in Damien’s basement, a week before junior year, watching the conjuring. We are about half way through the movie when she moves so she is laid on top of me straddling my waist and cuddling me, her face nuzzled into my neck. I can smell the alcohol and weed on her but I’m not one to complain. She’s had a really rough night on top of the douchebag cheating on her. The movie eventually ends not that I was taking notice of it as all I could think about was her, I didn’t take my eyes off of her the whole time. Damien stands up from the other couch and I give him a death glare warning him not to wake her up. He smiles and comes over, gently tapping her shoulder, waking her up. “Hey fun sized, wanna play a game with us” he says smirking, I look over at Cady, she too has a shit eating grin on her face. What were they scheming this time? She rubs her eyes and nods a little. “Mh. What game?” She asks a valid question “dare or drink” he goes back to behind the couch and pulls out a cooler full of ice cold drinks. Like a switch has flipped she removes herself from my body. And sits on the floor next to the small coffee table. We all do the same, grabbing drinks and opening bottles. “Cady I dare you to make an Instagram account under the name ‘Caddy Heroin’ and follow the first five people who pop up” I start off strong, to this Cady puts the drink to her mouth and takes a big gulp. Earning a boo from the latter. A few turns go by and Damien turns to me and y/n pointing at us. “You two seven minutes in heaven right now or drink the rest of your bottles” he says with a smirk. Laughing y/n gets up with a stumble and holds her hand out for me. Her bracelets glistening under the dark light, I take her hand and pull her with me to another room in the basement. As soon as the door shuts I place my hands on her waist and push her body trapping her between me and the door.

Maybe I was drunk or maybe it was just the fact that Bea cheated on me but I decided to be reckless. When Damien proposed seven minutes in heaven I decided to take the offer up, Janis pulled me into the next room, pinning me against the door and attacking my lips, then that turned to my neck and I think you know what happened after that, we had Damien knocking on the door declaring we haul our asses out of the supply closet before he comes in and drags us out. Once out of the closet ;) we played a few more rounds before I ended up asleep on Janis again. By 2am we were all asleep.

7am the next day

I wake up to the sound of someone snoring, looking around the room I see Damien and the new girl on the other couch sprawled out, an ungodly sound coming from the boys mouth. Looking up I see Janis Imi-ike my longtime crush and Regina George’s ex girlfriend with her arms wrapped around my waist. I use the fact that everyone is asleep to make my escape. Before leaving I write my number down on a piece of paper and place one of my bracelets on Janis’ wrists.

part 2

[deansmom]

Everytime I point out that Dean Winchester is autistic, people get mad or look at me like I’ve spontaneously grown a second head, as if this man’s existence isn’t just checking off boxes for the diagnostic criteria

Special interests: westerns, cars, mechanical engineering stuff in general, 1960’s & 70’s music - specifically classic rock, monsters. You’re gonna look me in the eyes and tell me that it’s totally normal for someone who was born in 1979 to have borderline encyclopedic knowledge of two decades of music????? Hundreds of years of monster lore??? — for fuck’s sake, he had a train thing when he was little!!!! Those are special interests!!!!

Restricted diet: it’s mostly for Jokes but dean genuinely doesn’t eat much beyond burgers, diner food and pie.

Dean didn’t speak for months after Mary died and there’s 15 years of canon evidence where he loses his voice during moments of Big Emotions!!! He’s going nonverbal!!!!!!!

Trouble with social cues: literally look at every single instance of Dean trying to interact with strangers, ESPECIALLY in the early seasons. He’s not playing dumb, he just doesn’t get it. Also, watch any scene of this man TRYING to flirt and tell me that he’s any good at it. You know why? That bitch is mimicking the fucking movies and tv shows he grew up watching.

Sensory processing disorder: DO YOU THINK HE WEARS 87 LAYERS FOR FUN???? FOR FASHION????? WHAT DID YOU THINK ALL THE FLANNELS WERE ABOUT. THEY’RE SOFT. Also think about how much he liked the nightgown and the robe. ALSO, ALSO: school!!! It’s loud, it’s smelly, it’s dirty (his germ thing), the lights are too bright, there’s too much sensory input happening at one time. Between being so overwhelmed in school that he couldn’t focus and John pulling him left & right for cases and Sam, no wonder dean dropped out :(

14.04. The comic book episode is an ENTIRE episode about dean and his special interests!!!!!! And his social anxiety, hiding out in his room at the beginning of the episode because of all the strangers in his home 😤

Emotional regulation problems: those angry outbursts?? Destroying the Impala??? LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME THATS NOT A MELTDOWN

His whole personality is a mask! He based his whole life and personality around the men he grew up around! John, Bobby, the other hunters - we all know that dean isn’t this rugged manly man he puts on. Sure people can have layers, but my man literally wore his dad’s actual jacket for fucking years

Black & white thinking: this doesn’t need anything else tbh

Strong sense of Justice: “how many people do you have to save?” “All of ‘em. Whole wide world of sports.”

Literal thinking: half the show is about how they both have to learn to look at monsters and not immediately go “monsters bad.” Also literal thinking is hard to explain, but I promise he does this.

Hyperlexic: “what? I read?”

“Too blunt”: all those times you thought “that was kinda harsh Dean” or “wtf that was so mean” - he doesn’t like lying to people when he doesn’t have to!

Hyper empathy: “The baby in the well? My bad.” “I do my best to be brave.” Sacrificing himself for people over and over again. The djinn episode and the speech he makes in front of John’s grave. His whole life he’s been told he cares too much!!!!

As a fellow AuDHD bitch, the most AuDHD thing Dean has ever said was “we know a little about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous.” Also: “I got no idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give ‘em hell attitude, and I’ll figure it out.”

Like I could dive into the nuances of all of these and explain them in great detail and find textual evidence for basically everything, but it’s too early in the morning for that much work when I know that I’m right. Yeah he has adhd, obviously, but I will eat my left hand if that man isn’t autistic.

[winchester-girl67]

My Father's Daughter

Summary: Y/N gets nervous when her anti-possession tattoo heals overnight. On her second attempt to make it stick she meets a boy that she might have more in common with then she thinks.

Requested by @rachelcarroll1819​ : “Can you do ome where the readers is the daughter of luicfer that john and bobby found as a baby bobby ends up raising her as his owns then when angels show up her powers finally show up also and sje in a relationship with either dean or sam ( whichever works for me)”

Pairing: Dean x Nephilim!reader

Square: Tattoo @supernatural-jackles​

Word Count: 5,805

Warnings: some SPN spoilers for season 12-15 (mainly surrounding Jack, and nephilim), not canon, language, adoption and related topics, implied relationship with Dean before the reader’s 18th birthday (reader and Dean are both 18), implied minor allergic reaction, injured!Dean, injuried!reader, blood, a little violence (involving guns/angel blades), angst, a little pining, kissing, fluff

A/N: This is before Castiel joins the Winchester’s side, I also took some liberties with the nephilim lore. Jack is such a fun character to write for, I had to include him in this request… Enjoy :) Also written for @supernatural-jackles​’ Tell Me a Story bingo.

_____

“What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks?” You gasped at your reflection in the mirror. “Balls, that can’t be a good sign.”

You held open the collar of your flannel and traced your fingers over the unblemished flesh below your collarbone. It was easy to ignore when it happened the first time. A pencil standing on its point for three seconds longer than it should’ve was easy to play off as an illusion soaked in extreme boredom at the time. Strange occurrences were common especially around the Winchesters or anyone involved with the Winchesters, but this was- wasn’t possible. It was your eighteenth birthday yesterday and Dean brought you to get your first tattoo, an anti-possession symbol. You had it inked into the left side of your chest over your breast, just like him, but now it was gone as if it had... healed.

You decided not to tell anyone and buttoned your shirt a little higher than usual. You would just go back to the tattoo parlour today before you met up with Dean. You kept the little anomalies like this to yourself more often than not lately, after finding out you were adopted and who your biological father really was. Lucifer. Talk about daddy issues. You didn’t want anyone finding out that you had inherited anything from him. Eighteen years without a single sign of angelic anything and now you couldn’t deny there was something filtering through you, trying to get out. It felt like power.

“Meeting Dean this early, pumpkin?” Your father, Bobby, asked as you bounced down the stairs and into the kitchen. You nodded, not wanting to lie to him but it was for the best, “Do your old man a favour and grab something to eat before you head out.”

“Alright, dad.” You said, grabbing an apple from the fridge.

“You make sure that boy gets you home in time for dinner,” he cocked an eyebrow at you, “I mean it this time, Y/N. I will get my shotgun out if you’re a minute past six, got it?”

You were his little girl, but he wouldn’t actually shoot Dean, right?

You laughed and nodded, playing it off as a joke. He could only be about eighty-percent serious, at most. You didn’t have a curfew but tonight was an exception. There were family and friends and family-friends, coming over to celebrate your birthday, since yesterday was a weekday and Bobby had steaks marinating in the fridge.

“We’ll be home on time, promise. Bye, daddy.” You pecked him on the cheek and turned his cap around so the visor was in the back.

“Always with the damn hat,” he grumbled as he fixed it back to the front.

You giggled as you twirled out of the room and bit into your apple. You took a couple of bites before holding it between your lips as you laced up your boots and slipped on your jacket.

Outside, you chucked the core into the tall grass opposite the house and climbed onto your motorcycle. You started it up and pulled your hair into a quick braid for the wind, otherwise it would tangle to an extent that could never be brushed out, and took your helmet off the handlebars. You secured the strap under your chin and revved the engine as you kicked it into gear, fish-tailing around before speeding off down the laneway.

Leaves were changing colour and it was cooler outside now. For a moment you wished you had remembered your gloves but you would power through, the tattoo parlour wasn’t too far away anyway. You chose a different parlour across town than the one Dean had brought you to, just in case the artist that tattooed you the day before was on shift today too. Too many questions would be asked and you didn't have the answers.

It was easier this time around, since you knew what to expect and how much it would sting, but you hated that Dean wasn’t there to hold your hand. The woman wiped away the excess ink when she was done the final flame and held up a mirror for you to see. You grinned at the permanent ink, marring your flesh the same way it did Sam and Dean and Bobby and every other hunter you knew.

To anyone else, they’d probably think it was odd but to you it meant protection and family. It was pretty, even with the red raw edges that would eventually flatten out as your skin healed. You loved the way new tattoos raised the skin and appeared to jump out at you. You felt like a badass sporting your fresh ink and bit your lip at your excited smile.

The artist snapped a pic for her portfolio and the shop’s website and you noticed a boy about your age smiling at you from behind the gap in the privacy curtains. He was sitting in the waiting area with his hands on his knees and just staring. At. You.

“Hello.” He said when you passed him on your way out.

His blonde hair was combed to the side, unlike Dean’s whose was always spiked up like an angry hedgehog. You gave him a nod of your head and nothing more. Glancing back at the parlour as you climbed onto your motorcycle, partially just to make sure he didn’t follow you out. He didn’t give off any creeper vibes but he was… odd.

“Ow,” you hissed suddenly as your chest burned. You pulled aside your flannel to see the tattoo glowing white hot before it fizzled out. Your body healing itself again and your tattoo disappearing. You looked up at the tattoo parlour sullenly, there would be no point in trying again. “Shit-balls.”

Just when you thought puberty was over. What the hell was going on with your body now? All you could think was that your bio-dad’s genes were finally kicking in.

It would be easy enough to hide it from Bobby, not so much Dean. Things were getting heated between you two lately and it was inevitable that he’d see you in a bra again. The thing was, the only people who knew about your bio-dad were John, who had passed away a couple years ago and Bobby, who promised never to tell another living soul; especially the boys. Sam would probably understand but he was four years younger than you and he couldn’t keep a secret from his older brother. Dean on the other hand, thought of things in black and white and anything tainted with the blood of a monster must be a monster in and of itself. And Lucifer was a monster, you heard the stories.

You wanted to be like Bobby, not your bio-dad and you wanted Dean to keep loving you. Which you weren’t entirely sure was possible if you told him that you were a nephilim. Until recently you had been questioning it yourself but you couldn’t ignore the weirdness surrounding you anymore or the dreams you’d been having of a man with glowing red eyes, a raspy voice calling out to you. You always woke up in a cold sweat and now you were thinking they might be more than just dreams. Maybe if you’d said something Bobby could help you make them stop.

You started up your motorcycle and pulled on your helmet, glancing back at the parlour one last time and watching as the blonde boy walked down the steps. He still had a smile on his face when his blue eyes met yours and he raised his hand to wave. Then he started walking towards you and you didn’t stick around to find out what he wanted. You weren’t in the mood to be hit on, although you didn’t get that vibe from him. He had more of an innocence about him. You still weren't in the mood.

You must’ve drove past the laneway to your house six times before you decided you couldn’t face your father or everyone else who had congregated there for your birthday dinner. Bobby had bragged about you finally getting your anti-possession tattoo and becoming a real hunter and what if someone asked to see it? How could you explain that?

You went to the one quiet place where you could always think. The graveyard on the west side of town. You didn’t know anyone there but you felt it was nice if someone visited them from time to time. You were always respectful and you liked to sit on the bench at the back between the overgrown trees. The spot was hidden from the road and you could hear the resident owl from time to time.

It was late now and well past six, when dinner was supposed to be ready. Bobby would likely be fuming or worried as hell, probably both. On the brightside, Dean would be with him and everyone else so Bobby would have no reason to blame him or shoot him. Except it was possible he still might try.

You checked your phone to find too many messages from both Bobby and Dean, all asking where you were and when you were getting back. One more recent one asking if you were in trouble. You typed off an ‘I’m fine’ when you heard the leaves crunch under the weight of a sneaker.

You whipped your head around to find the blonde boy from the tattoo parlour peeking out from behind the trunk of a tree. He smiled brightly as he slowly approached you, waving again and if you were about to make a run for it, you no longer felt the need.

“Hello, I’m Jack. I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. This is my first time..." he paused, seemingly struggling to find the word, "-talking." He grinned again.

“O-okay.”

Did he just break some sort of oath-of-silence or something?

You were still skeptical even if you weren’t scared. He wasn’t all that big, kinda skinny, you could take him in a fight if you had to.

“Are you following me?” You asked, he smiled and nodded like he didn’t understand how creepy it was to admit to following someone. “Why, -the fuck?” You almost laughed, it was so awkward, but you settled for a single puff of air. “How’d you find me?”

"I've been looking for you, I’ve been wanting to meet you, you're not easy to find, I can only sense you some of the time -This place is nice." He glanced around, it was hardly the word you would use to describe a graveyard but what-the-hay there were stranger things at foot, “You seem troubled. Can I help?"

"Um, no? I'm just a bit confused. You ‘sensed’ me?" You asked, squinting your eyes up at him.

"You put off an energy when you're stressed and I could tell you needed me. It smells like... sour strawberries -Are strawberries good?" He asked and tilted his head. Dude was weird, but probably harmless.

“Um, yeah, when they have chocolate on them, otherwise they make my tongue feel funny.” You shrugged, Dean had bought you chocolate covered strawberries for Valentine’s day, almost made it worth the itchy throat. “Why do you think I need you? I don't need you, I don't even know you.”

“We have more in common than you think.” He alluded and you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face as he stood there.

“I’m getting impatient, Jack, and you won’t like me when I’m impatient.” You quipped and he tilted his head in confusion. Dean was rubbing off on you, after all those hours watching ‘classic’ movies with him. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you feel so familiar?” That was the feeling you were picking up from him, a closeness; you finally figured it out.

“I’m your brother.”

Your face blanched, “The only person I’d consider a brother is Sammy -even if it is a little awkward since I am dating his actual brother- but we’re not related, we just grew up together, sort of... our dad’s knew each other and we hung out… quite a bit actually but that’s not the point. I don’t have blood relatives, up here, anyway.”

“But we have one in common, down there." Jack pointed as he laughed and sat down beside you.

You scooched over to the end of the bench, "So... Your father...?"

"Is Lucifer, yes, and so is yours." He said.

Did he always smile? He seemed too cheery to be a descendant of the Devil himself. At least you had the decency to be unbearably irritable once a month.

"Prove it," you smirked back snidely. Yup, too much time around Dean.

"Okay," he pulled a long silver blade from his jacket, one you knew as an angel blade and levitated it in the air. He moved his fingers and the blade mimicked his motions. "Pretty cool, huh?"

You nodded and remembered the pencil; could you do something like that someday? Maybe you had to focus more or less, he didn't seem to put much effort into it.

"Do you want to try?" He asked, grabbing the blade from mid air and handing it over to you. "It's easy, just focus on what you want it to do and make it happen."

You focused on the blade in your hands and squinted your eyes, picturing it spinning in a circle like a top. You almost burst a blood vessel in your eye before you huffed and gave up, "It's no use! I can't do it."

"You're just trying too hard. We can work on it," he smiled again and you handed him back the blade.

Jack wasn't a threat, somehow you just knew, but how long was he planning on staying? And if he stayed you'd have to explain yourself and him to Bobby, that wasn't something you were looking forward to.

"Do you have any tattoos?" You asked.

"No, should I?" He asked, his smile fell and he looked worried for a moment as if you wouldn't like him if he didn't.

"I tried to get one, twice now, but it keeps healing." You pulled open your flannel a little to touch the skin where the tattoo should've been. "Kinda sucks, you know? I've been injured on hunts before and I have scars, so it doesn't make any sense to me. Why now?"

"Maybe..." he thought and tucked the blade back into his jacket, "Your powers are only developing now because you grew up slowly. You had a normal adolescence."

"I'd hardly call my childhood normal," you rolled your eyes. You were raised as a hunter and Bobby took you out for target practice every Sunday and when John and the boys were in town, you would have to participate in sparring and weapons training, all before you could read. And when you could read, lore was added to your studies along with your typical -normal school work. "How come you have your powers already then? You're about my age."

"I had to grow up faster than you, there are things -people here that want to hurt me and I needed them to protect myself." He explained, “That’s probably why yours are just showing up, your body feels it too.”

“Feels what?”

“Our father, his return.”

“Bio-dad, Lucifer?” You huffed, “Uh-yeah, I don’t think so. My surrogate dad sealed him in a cage eighteen years ago with the late-great John Winchester, you might’ve heard of him? Trust me, dude, we’re safe.”

“You can’t feel him? Maybe I can help you along,” Jack reached out to touch your forehead with two fingers and before you could push his hand away your body was flooded with images, feelings, light, dark, energy -it was too much and you pulled away, trying to catch your breath and blink away the numbing headache.

You gulped and met his blue eyes, “How are you only a day old?!”

Not only had he transferred everything he felt to you but also every memory he ever had, tracing back to even when they were just feelings in the womb of his mother. You didn’t remember any of the same stuff from your own life. How could you be the same but totally different? You were stressed beyond belief, your mind racing a mile a minute and that’s when you noticed the pulsing light coming from your palms.

“Um, Jack,” you said, inspecting your palms and turning them to face him as the light got brighter and pulsed more frequently with every heavy heartbeat. “What’s happening to me?”

“I helped you find your powers, they were -uh… hidden. I just pulled them to the surface so now you can access them.” He smiled and you gaped as a single pulse of light left your palms, hitting Jack like a force field and knocking him off the bench. He landed a good ten metres away but shook it off and stood back up, “-Ouch.”

Voices filled your mind as if multiple people were whispering in your ears all at once and they kept getting louder and louder until all you heard was a blaring hiss as if a radio was in the midst of tuning. You fell off the bench, clutching your ears with your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as if it would help.

You screamed over the noise though you couldn’t hear yourself, “Jack! Jack!”

You felt his hands rest over yours and a moment later the noise faded away. You sighed and blinked open your eyes. Your ears felt as if they were bleeding and you touched them to check.

“What the balls was that?” You asked, catching your breath.

“Angel radio, I forgot to warn you it can be overwhelming but you’ll get the hang of it. It gets easier to tune out with practice.” Jack said, helping you to your feet.

“I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“All I really heard was buzzing, will I be able to understand them? When I get the hang of it.” You could hardly believe this was your life now, hearing angelic voices in your head and pulsing shockwaves from your palms.

“Yes,” he nodded, “The pain will always be there though.”

“What were they saying?” You asked, noticing the dirt on your jeans and brushing off your knees.

“It was a distress signal about Lucifer.” Jack explained, brushing some crumpled bits of dried leaves from your shoulder.

You heard someone approach, heavy on their heels, “Get away from her!” Dean yelled with his gun drawn, eyeing Jack like he was ready to kill.

But you didn’t want him to hurt Jack, your little brother, “Dean, No!” You spun around and held up a hand. You didn’t mean to release another shockwave and it sent Dean flying into the tree behind him. He hit it back first and slumped to the ground, unconscious. “DEAN!”

You ran to him and cradled him in your arms, pulling his head to your chest. Tears welled in your eyes and dripped onto his cheeks as you curled over him and rocked back and forth. You didn’t know if it was your new powers but you could tell he wasn’t okay. He hit his head hard and you didn’t even know if he’d wake back up.

“Stay right there, boy.” You heard your father’s voice warn Jack as he approached you.

“Daddy?” You sobbed.

“It’s okay, pumpkin, he’s gonna be okay.” Bobby crouched next to you and inspected Dean’s head. His hand was covered in blood when he touched the back of it. He frowned and scrubbed the other palm over his scruff, “Oh, balls! Hang on, Dean.”

“Y/N,” Jack risked a step forward even with Bobby’s gun still trained on him. “I can help him. I’ve done it before.”

He had, hadn’t he? A single memory of Jack healing his birth mom while still in her womb came to mind. He wasn’t lying. You nodded and put your hand on Bobby’s gun to lower it. You weren’t even sure at this point if a bullet could even hurt him... or you anymore. Now that you feel more angelic than human.

Jack knelt next to Dean and laid a hand on his head. His fingers glowed a warm gold, the same colour as his irises and you felt Dean’s body react; his heart stabilizing with stronger beats and his breathing evening out until he began to stir. You watched intently as his green eyes fluttered open and you wiped away your tears, then dried his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Are you okay?” You whispered when he locked eyes with you.

He stared up at you, registering all that just happened and then a shot rang through your ears. Dean sat up and pushed away from you, his gun smoking in his hand and you looked down at your chest. Where he shot you.

“Idjit! What did you do?!” Bobby yelled at Dean and tried to inspect your wound. It actually didn’t hurt all that much and when you opened your shirt, the same golden glow you’d seen moments ago healed the wound until it was as if it was never there.

“That’s not Y/N! What are you, you bitch?! What did you do with her?!” Dean shouted, raising his gun again. "I swear if you hurt her-"

“Boy, you better put that gun down if you wanna see your next birthday.” Bobby warned and Dean glanced between you both, noting that he was the one out of the loop. He lowered the gun but kept it ready on his thigh and felt the back of his head curiously. “I was wonderin’ when those nephilim powers of yours would kick in, the only question I got is... Who in the holy balls is this guy?” Bobby asked, nudging his head towards Jack.

You always loved how he could incorporate balls into any sentence whether it fit or not and you guessed you did it too; you were your father’s daughter after all.

“He’s -um, my brother. Half-brother.” You said and glanced back at Jack who smiled and held a hand up as if to shake your father’s. Bobby didn’t reciprocate though and you added, “On my bio-dad’s side, obviously.”

It was well known that a human mother couldn't survive the birth of a nephilim child. Your note was more to tip off Bobby to shut up in front of Dean about it. Not that Bobby took the hint since he probably felt the cat was out of the bag anyways.

“So, good-old Lucy got sprung from the cage, eh? I figured that would happen eventually -was hoping for more time though.” Bobby grunted and fixed his cap like he did when he was unnerved and not wanting to show it.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t have a fucking clue what in the hell is going on? Y/N?!” Dean huffed and furrowed his brow.

“I -um,” you didn’t know how to explain. “I -um, I’m adopted. Surprise.”

“You’re Lucifer’s daughter?” Dean asked, catching on quickly.

The light in his eyes dimmed at the idea and you knew you needed to correct him and fast.

"No! No, I am Bobby’s daughter and I suppose... a by-product of Lucifer’s sperm donation.”

Dean nodded, then cringed. "That’s kind of gross.”

“I’m still me, Dean, the girl you’re in love with but won’t ever admit it to.” You said, hoping for him to see you the same way he did before. “I’m the same girl.”

“No, you’re not. Your eyes are different.” He stared hard like he was trying to see past something.

You looked to Bobby as if he had the answers, “Your eyes are glowing, pumpkin.”

You imagined your reflection with the eyes you’d seen Jack wear when his powers filtered through him. Then you felt it, the difference, you weren’t in control of them yet, they manifested with the waves in your emotions. It was extremely hard to control.

“Jack, how do I make it stop?” You asked and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Take a deep breath and let it go.” Jack said.

You didn’t think it could really be that fucking easy, but gave it a try. When you opened your eyes again you could feel the light dimming and then extinguish. You were exhausted.

“I wanna go home.” You looked to your father and he nodded. Jack’s smile seemed to turn upside down and you added, “Can Jack come too?”

“Might as well, party’s cleared out anyhow.” Bobby stood up and eyed Jack, sizing him up. You could tell your father didn’t trust him yet, but you knew Jack was good, you could feel it.

“Sorry I missed the party.” You stood up and hugged Bobby.

“Don’t worry about it, pumpkin.” He patted your back and ruffled up your hair when you broke the hug. You frowned and tried to tuck the loose strands of hair back into your braid. “We should get outta here before-”

You heard what could only be described as a rush of feathers before a bald man in a suit appeared before you, "Hello, Robert.”

“It’s Bobby, jackass.”

There was another louder rush and two others appeared next to him. One of them oddly wore a trench-coat over his suit. You knew instantly that these men were angels. You could see their halos shine brightly above their heads. A side effect of finally getting your nephilim powers you assumed. In all your time hunting you hadn't come across any angels, you never wanted to either based off of the stories Bobby and other hunters told you.

"Zachariah," Bobby said, nodding at the bald angel before him, then the other in the tight suit, "Uriel... long time, no see."

You knew from your studies that Uriel was an archangel, by far more powerful than the others, even if he seemed to let Zachariah take charge at the moment.

“I thought we had an understanding." Zachariah continued, "If the nephilim child showed any signs of getting her powers you were supposed to contact me, right away."  

“Like you wouldn’t have known, don’t you have some sort of angelic radar? As soon as the kid showed any signs of grace you'd feel it. That’s why you’re here isn’t it.” Bobby snapped back at the man, or angel wearing some poor sap as a meat-suit like a demon would.

“Precisely, which is why we wanted to avoid an event large enough to attract our attention. She hurt the boy, didn't she? That could've been avoided. She is an abomination and she will offset the order of the universe, given the time; there’s only one way to deal with this sort of thing... Castiel.”

The angel wearing the trench-coat stepped forward with a stoic face as if he was about to carry out some unspoken order. Like a good little soldier of heaven. An angel blade dropped into his hand from his shirtsleeve and he advanced towards you. You stumbled back and Jack grabbed your hand and puffed out his chest. Castiel stopped in his tracks just as both your eyes began to glow.

“That can’t be.” Castiel said as he backed off. He glanced back at Zachariah and then disappeared with a flutter of his wings. At least he knew when he was outranked.

The others however, Zachariah and Uriel, did not retreat and advanced upon you. Each with their own angel blade in hand. You and Jack channeled your powers together and raised your hands. You released a joint shockwave that blew them apart to mere atoms which floated away in the wind like snowflakes on a cold winter day. Your power alone was great, but together it was unmatched.

There would be no issues destroying or caging Lucifer when the time came for it. But you would have to find him first. Or maybe he would find you now that your powers had emerged. Apparently it sent up a pretty big blip on the angelic radar or whatever Bobby called it and Lucifer was probably still connected to that, right? Or at least had some sort of version of it.

"Holy hell,” Bobby cursed, “Come on, Y/N, we best be getting home before someone or something else comes looking for them or who did that to 'em."

You let your father lead the way to his truck and towed Jack along with you. Meanwhile Dean trailed behind keeping a watchful eye on your new found brother. All the while not saying much.

He didn't say anything actually, not even when you remembered your motorcycle. He just took the keys from you so you could drive back with your family. Or maybe he just didn't want to be squished into the cab of that old Ford with a being more powerful than an archangel -that was born yesterday- and your father. Bobby was super protective of you, and Dean and his relationship was strained because of that. It was a miracle they drove here together without someone getting shot now that you thought of it.

And Dean's silent treatment continued for days longer than any fight you'd had with him since you had gotten together. You didn't even know if you were still together anymore. So to say you were surprised to see him show up when Bobby and Jack went out on a day trip for some bonding, was an understatement.

"Hiya, sweetheart." Dean said, standing in the front doorway and glancing behind you, his eyes searching the space. "Bobby out?" He asked, you nodded, "How 'bout your -uh... b-brother?"

"You mean Jack?" You asked, he'd probably just forgotten his name. Dean gave you a soft smile and nodded twice, "Yeah, s'just me home. Why, you come to snuff out the monsters? One abomination at a time?"

Dean pushed his brows together and frowned down at you. "Listen, girly-"

"Girly?!-"

"Y/N," Dean pleaded, slipping your name off his tongue with his hands held up as if to pose no threat. "I know Bobby said you needed time and you didn't wanna talk to me, but I just gotta get this off my chest and then I'm gone, okay? Can you just listen? Please."

That wasn't true. Bobby lied. But you motioned for him to continue anyways.

"I was pissed at you. For not telling me, not trusting me. You were there for me when my father-" Dean choked up and cleared his throat. His eyes watered as he searched for the right words to say, "I just -I didn't understand why you didn't want me there for you, so I blamed you. But then I thought about it, really thought about it and it's no wonder you couldn't trust me, hell, why would you? All I've ever done is maim and kill-"

You'd heard enough, "Dean, I trust you! Nothing's ever going to change that and I didn't tell my dad to tell you shit. You just looked so hurt, I didn't know how to reach out and thought maybe you didn't want me to." You chewed on your lip before you decided to swallow your embarrassment and rolled your eyes at yourself, "Fuck it, I love you." It was the first time either of you said that out loud, "And I know at one point you felt the same about me and I guess, I'm just hoping that's still the case?"

Dean gave a delicate nod and shrug of his shoulders, "You'll always belong with me, Y/N." He confessed and stepped forward to wrap his arms around you. You let him and he pressed his forehead to yours. "And I care about you, too."

It hurt a little that he didn't say it back, but that was close enough for you. Dean wasn't touchy-feely in the case of emotions and you didn't need to make him say it. You felt it in the way he clutched you to him and you sunk into his embrace.

Dean pressed a hard kiss to your temple and another open lipped kiss to your cheek. You felt the heat of his breath on your lips before his mouth molded to yours and your tongues touched. His movements were slow and passionate and when his fingertips touched that ticklish spot on your neck you giggled into the kiss.

He felt like coming home; safety and warmth in his arms. Even if you didn't need protecting anymore, it was nice. It was the first time in days you let yourself relax and it seemed like you weren't the only one.

Dean pulled away to let you catch your breath and you slowly blinked open your eyes to meet his. He let out a breathy chuckle and his forehead fell to yours again, his eyes admiring yours with an amused grin on his face.

"Your eyes are glowing," he breathed and sucked on his bottom lip. "You are so damn beautiful.” And he brushed the hair from your face. “You’re everything to me.” You felt his eyelashes brush your cheek and his hand sink from your lower back to grip your butt cheek. "You’re my everything.”

Your cheeks instantly hurt from smiling so bright at his words.

His other hand met on your backside and you squealed when he squeezed hard enough to bruise, but only for a second. Dean chuckled, slapped your butt and kissed you again. And you got lost in it.

Until the backdoor slammed shut, “Boy, get your damn hands off my daughter!" Bobby commanded as he set the cooler he was carrying on top of the counter.

Jack followed in behind him and smiled at Dean with a small wave.

Dean stopped kissing you and raised his hands as he stepped away from you. He was grinning wildly and biting his lip, his eyes roaming your body like they always did before they held your gaze.

You so easily fell back into the way things were before with him and this was the good part. The part where you could speak novels with a wink of an eye. It was like a language only the two of you could speak and he was saying 'I still love you, so damn much'.

Your father cleared his throat and you rolled your eyes, "Dad, I thought you said you were taking Jack fishing? Shouldn't that take a couple more hours?"

"Not a chance, pumpkin." Bobby side-eyed Dean, "Besides, kid, already caught a week's worth. He's a natural." He boasted, coming around to Jack much faster than you expected him to.

"I'm a natural," Jack repeated and beamed with a little tilt of his head. He bounced on his heels, twice, he was so excited.

You groaned and shook your head, "I'm surrounded by dorks."

"What's a dork?" Jack asked and furrowed his brow.

Dean answered, "A little brother."

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28

Forever SPN: @hobby27��

Tell Me a Story Bingo: @princessvader15

[queersolarfandompage]

⚠️TW vent⚠️

Realizing today why I don’t enjoy Christmas anymore. It calls for people to get together more. I enjoy hanging out with friends, but every family get together are awkward, making small talk with people you know and kind of know talking about my two least favorite subjects school and work. I spend more time hidden in a corner wishing it wouldn’t be seen as rude if I spent the remainder of the event on my phone since no one bothered to talk with me past our initial greeting. Every conversation I partake in has to be instigated by me, except for with immediate family. If I wanted to talk with someone my dad’s side of the family offers; men - talking about trucking, hunting, or some kind of project they’re working on, women - usually the women gossip of complain otherwise they talk about child care, of children - besides my baby nephew most of these children are brats. Tonight for our Christmas I got hit in the head several times, had a cousin try and shake up my soda every time I set it down, dealt with a child screaming and throwing a tantrum because on of the younger kids kept knocking over his tower, after the cousin continued to knock over everyone else’s towers. But the kids are the easiest to get along with so I usually play with them. On my mothers side we’ve got Great Grandma and her five daughters - too intimidating to talk to, they will judge me on my career choices of my education choices and tell me what I should be doing, the tweens - one of my cousins kids and their friends(?) I genuinely don’t recognize some of these kids, they’re all bratty so I never really interact with them, the misfits 1.0 - my grandmother’s family. I fall into this group and am comfortable chatting with most people in it except for one of my uncles, the misfits 2.0 - consisting of my methhead uncle and the two angry siblings who blame their mother for all their problems when she is the sweetest woman alive, I try and avoid talking to most of this group.

So to recap I’m forced into a social situation where I’m left uncomfortable no matter what I decide. But I have to go otherwise family will start messaging or calling me about my absence. I’d rather be doing my own thing but I have to participate in this social hell. Then to make things worse we add in gifts.

I’m expected to spend my money buying nice thoughtful gifts for family I barely talk to, and if I don’t I feel like an asshole because I’m no longer a child I’m an adult and I should be giving back. So I spend time picking out gifts and I spend money paying for them, I’m happy with myself because I got things I genuinely think the recipient will enjoy.

And I get my own gifts. For many years I wouldn’t make a Christmas list because there wasn’t anything I necessarily wanted. So if I wasn’t happy with my gifts, then it was my fault for not telling people what I wanted. But for once I put in effort and I made a list for those asking what I wanted. I gave suggestions of things I liked of clothing I was wearing. I got one thing that I asked for. Between my mom’s families Christmas, my dad’s family Christmas, my friend’s Secret Santa Party, and gifts from my parents, I got one thing that I asked for. And I don’t want to complain because I am thankful that I was even given something, but I put effort into making shopping for me easy. I had a relative ask me what I wanted and I told them a flannel. They asked if I wanted a flannel shirt or jacket and I told them I wanted a shirt. Well after answering some more questions the relative decided to talk with my stepmom about the flannel and my stepmom decided I needed a jacket. Jackets make me uncomfortable, they feel bulky against my arms and back and I don’t like them. My parents used to fight me to wear a coat until I stole one of my dad’s old jackets and I use that to this day. My point being I didn’t want a jacket and my stepmom thought I did because I always use my dad’s old jacket. And my relative listened to her on what I wanted over me. Why ask me if you’re just going to ignore my answers? Why should I put in effort to make a Christmas list and pick out perfect presents for others when my effort is ignored? And then to top everything off it started snowing today and I ran into something on the drive home and broke my side mirror.

Anyways now we all know why I’ve started hating Christmas

[morulezopelforever]

Some Snippets from my ATWD Khinkali Series

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3240997

If you like Merab, Irakli and their friends from the movie you will luuuuv them in my fics on Archive of our Own. Here are some tasty bits:

Mum walked in scratching and yawning, wearing an old bathrobe over flannel pyjamas and with her hair disheveled.

‘Ah, the dead have risen,’ Grandma sighed. ‘You’re never up this early.’

‘I am now. I woke from the cold. The heating is off. Is there any coffee going?’

‘No. For your information, the electricity was cut off...Again.’

Grandma, a little more visible now in the growing daylight, raised her hands like a priest dispensing a blessing.

‘You should marry your Mr. Lasha, Teona. He’s rich. You’re his cleaning lady, but you like him and he likes you. Have him marry you, then you and I can both finally rest.’

‘I won’t, Mother.’

‘Why not?’

‘His wife wouldn’t like it for one thing.’

‘Ay, ay, ay, what years we’ve lived.’

(From ‘’Another Glorious Day in Tbilisi’)

The Scotsman carefully dissected the construction with his spoon, took a bite and then spat it out.

‘What’s this?’ he roared. ‘You call this cottage pie?’

‘Quite an audacious remark for someone whose home town is famous for its deep-fried Mars bars,’ Ninutsa scoffed.

The other students giggled. ‘Quiet!’ Aleko snapped in Georgian.

The blond man was alternately gagging and drinking water.

‘This was frozen an then reheated, right?’ he asked David. ‘It’s definitely not fresh. It’s hard as a rock.’

‘My father owns a construction company,’ Sopo said calmly. ‘It was the easiest thing for me to scoop up some debris from a demolition site…There’s real cottage in that cottage pie, sir, so it’s as authentic as anything.’

(From ‘Joining Forces’)

Irakli went to the counter and drafted a glass. The pompons of his mariachi hat were dangling in front of his glasses, blocking his view and thus causing him to spill beer onto the floor.

Merab walked past, nearly slipped in the puddle but managed to come to a screeching halt on the heels of his cowboy boots. He smiled and mopped up the mess. ‘Love,’ Irakli whispered, feeling his heart contract at the sight of the beautiful creature who looked so angelic in his embroidered Mexican jacket. Then he took the beer to Ioseb’s table.

‘Have you chosen a dish yet?’ he asked.

Merab’s father nodded, smiling now. ‘Yes. I’d like a Sloppy Ioseb sandwich. Sounds good to me.’

‘Oh yes!’ Irakli confirmed. ‘Sopo created it in your honour.’

‘My future daughter-in-law is a lovely lass,’ Ioseb said. ‘And I am glad that Merab is finally doing something useful with his life under your influence.’

Irakli cast a glance at Merab, who was now clumsily drafting beer and singing Pistolero to amuse the guests at the counter.

‘Useful?’ Irakli said to Joseb. ‘Well, I’m trying my best, and…’

Joseb pointed at the menu. ‘And oh yes, I’d like some Mexikhinkali and eggplant fritters for a main course…Thanks, son.’

(From ‘Not in a Million Years’)

David wound his way through throngs of people down a lane at the Eliava Bazaar until he got to his father’s car part stall.

‘Morning, son,’ Ioseb greeted him. ‘Do sit down. Could you spare your old man a fag? Business has been bad lately.’

David offered him a cigarette, lit up one himself and settled on a crate.

‘What brings you here at such an early hour?’ Dad then asked. ‘Some beef with your girl?’

David shook his head. No, there’s no beef between Sopo and me, he thought, if only it were so because it would mean we were living together at our little flat undisturbed. Everything I wanted from watching football on TV to inviting my mates over for drinks and making love to her has been impossible ever since Aleko moved in, but I won’t tell Dad any of this.

‘It’s something else then,’ Dad tried. ‘Money trouble?’

‘No.’ In fact, he and Sopo were making loads and had no time to spend it.

Now Dad smiled. ‘Ah! So you’ve done what any man should do before he turns twenty-five…By the way, Sopo is older than you, it’s ridiculous…Anyhow, did it finally happen?’

‘I don’t understand, Dad.’

‘Did she have a visit from the Holy Spirit?’

‘What?’

‘She in the family way?’

‘What?’

Dad angrily stubbed out his cigarette. ‘You dumb calf…Did you get her pregnant?’

David felt anger surge within him. He and Sopo had decided not to start a family until she had earned her PhD, which would be some three years down the road.

‘No, nothing of that kind,’ he sighed. ‘I’m just tired. Our tenant is a nuisance.’

(From ‘Expansion’)

Ready for some fun? Read all about the adventures of Merab, Irakli, David, Sopo, Mary, Ninutsa, Luka and...Aleko under this link:

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3240997

[mackeydoodledoo]

Twice the Chaos: Chapter 1

Pairing: Rosalie Hale x (Fem!DemonHybrid)OC: Pandora Barlowe

Summary: You were only passing through. You had nowhere to go; you were the spawn of Satan himself. There was no place in the world for you. Until you met a blonde vampire. 

Warnings: Parental Abandonment, Depression, Chaotic Life

A/n: Listen... I’m just tryna see something here...

Key: Bold/Italics = Telepathic Conversation/Thoughts

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

Your mother had left you when you were of age; not wanting to take care of a freak. That was how your mother always referred to you. Your Father? He was never around. Since being left out into the streets, life has been absolute chaos. You try to make a living for yourself; but you began developing new features.

“I’m sorry, we can no longer have you be working at our establishment,” The owner comes up to you

You were just trying to clean tables; next was you getting fired?

“What? Why? I haven’t violated any of your rules,” You try to counter-argue, “More so, I’ve been trying to not violate them...”

“Your... Vibe... Everyone’s giving us weird looks... It’d be better if you no longer worked here,” He doesn’t budge

You storm out of your former workplace. 

That is IT! I’m done! 

You try running your hands through your hair but you felt something knock against your fingertips. 

Stubs?! That can’t be... 

You saw something move from the bottom corner of your eye. 

A tail?! What the absolute hell is happening?

You run off to the woods in order to avoid getting any further attention from humans. You did everything... Just simply trying to get through like at the age of 18. Clearly it wasn’t going to happen... 

You are beginning to become like me...

Who said that?! 

You were beginning to freak out.

Your father...

What are you talking about?! My dad was never around! He could be dead for all I know and care!

You don’t get it do you?... I am your father...

Father? 

You were sure your father just ran off with another woman. But, it wasn’t logically possible to have someone telepathically speak to you. 

Why am I going to believe some voice in my head that’s never been around until now?! 

You just try to get the same voice out of your head.

You’re like me... You can come home. You won’t have to worry about being judged here...

Home?! My mother threw me out as soon as I turned 18... Since then I couldn’t even keep a single job afloat without anyone that comes within my radius getting me fired because of my “bad vibes”! Well, look at it this way-

No! Face it! There’s no place for me!!!!! Heaven or Hell? Doesn’t matter... There’s no damn place for a freak like me...

The voice in your head ceased then. But, the development of new features hadn’t. Your stubs? Grew into small horns. Tail? Resembled a Demon’s tail. Pointed end and everything.. It’s been months since you had your last job... Anyone really. You use a beanie to cover your horns and you shove your tail into your pants or jacket; whichever was comfortable. You mysteriously was still stable enough to create your own little place in the woods. But, it was still depressing for you. You still thought about how your mother abandoned you, getting fired just because of the vibes you give off, despite trying to be a normal human.

“Why me?...” You ask yourself, “Why me?....”

You look up as soon as you felt a single raindrop fall. 

I need a new tarp... But, I’m not in for going back into town... They wouldn’t eve just as so sell me a new tarp... Whatever I guess...

You had passed out while the rain was going on. However, when you open your eyes, you were expected to feel wet. But, you felt warm. You look up to see a brand new tarp draped over your small hideout and you look back down to see a Sherpa-lined blanket engulfing you in warmth. 

Who?...

“Got me these?...” You ask yourself

You crawl out of the hideout and try to look around the woods to see if there was anyone else that had been camping out. But, no such people were there. You scoff but felt thankful that someone was sympathetic enough to give you a whole new tarp to go over your head and a blanket. 

Fortunately it had stopped raining by the time you went out to go fishing to get your fill for the day. To be honest, it didn’t feel so bad when you would be out fishing, you found a big enough lake to see the sun rise and set over the horizon, you were able to catch a handful of fish to get you through each day. 

I see you’ve grown accustomed to living on your own... Nice job kiddo.

What did I say about coming out to “chat”? Don’t try and persuade me to “Come home”.

I’m not. I’m just checking in on you. You claim that there’s no place for you here... Yet, you’ve made a small place for yourself?

Might as well be somewhere off the grid. 

Not to that once blondie...

A blondie?... Who?...

Not sure, but that new tarp and blanket? That’s from her.... She’s been coming nearly every night...

You watch me sleep?...

I do it to protect you so you could sleep. 

Don’t try and act like my dad... I’m fine without him.... 

You still don’t believe me?..

Still haven’t seen you face to face. 

You wouldn’t want to see me face to face....

Good, we’re on the same page then. Don’t think I’d want to meet my old man anyway...

Once dusk had hit, you were putting out a firepit you had set up to cook the fish you had caught not too long before. 

I got you kiddo. Go ahead and sleep.

I said don’t treat me like you’re trying to be like my dad. I never knew him anyway... 

You take the blanket and use a couple of your flannels as a pillow.

Goodnight...

Night.

The same old routine persisted. You felt the off-putting vibes on how you were able to be this stable, especially living in an unused shed of all places that was clearly in a state of decay. 

I think that blondie has taken a liking to you.

She’s still in question? She doesn’t even know me... How could you know?

When she would come check on you, just last night she was lying next to you. I know because she’s been visiting every night. 

And she can’t see you?

No one can. 

That’s a ‘shocker’... But can she not hear you?...

Only you and myself.

“Weird...” You take a deep breath as you sit against the tree 

You were kind of fishing from sitting on a tree branch, decently high from the ground. 

You’ve thought about the last several nights you were sleeping in your little hideout space. You would open your eyes, but still be half asleep. As you were half awake and half asleep; you could have sworn you felt an arm hooked around your waistline. But you don’t think anything of it as you pass right back out. The feeling would be gone in the morning. 

You really think there is someone?

She’s come every night. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be taken to where she lives.

Out here? In the middle of nowhere? I doubt it.. 

Like clockwork, you set up your makeshift flannel pillow and lay across the old tarp you decided to use as a covering form the molding hardwood floor.

You open your eyes and realize the cold morning feeling is no longer around. Your eyes begin adjusting to so much light coming into the room.

“You’re awake now?” A feminine voice asks you

You were startled. Startled to the point where you fell off the bed. You groan at the impact. Trying to gain your vision back, a figure comes walking over to you. You immediately sit up and begin backing away.

“You-you don’t wanna be near me,” You say, almost in a drunken state, “I’m no good around people...”

“Says who?” She asks

“Says the many people that have fired me from jobs because of the vibes I give off,” You groan when you feel the wall against your back

“Well, they just go by the book cover,” She says, helping you back into bed, “You should lay down... You hit your head there pretty hard.”

In your still blurred vision; the woman’s hair was brunette. 

That isn’t her... 

But, she isn’t giving off any bad vibes...

I’ll be the judge of that...

You try to sit up again but a hand is gently pressed against your shoulder.

“My daughter will be here any minute to check on you,” She says, calmly, “You should thank her when you have the chance... She felt miserable watching you every night.”

She... Felt miserable?...

See? She does like you.

But, she still barely knows me. I don’t even know her name and vice versa. 

That could change here.

Will you just stop talking?....

The next time you open your eyes, your vision slowly coming together; you saw a faint color of blonde. 

Could it be?...

“I told you you shouldn’t have brought that... Thing in here. She’ll get us all killed,” A male voice tries to persuade the blonde

“I couldn’t just leave her there,” She argues, “She was miserable. Carlisle and Esme already said she could stay here under my care.”

“If you get us killed it’s your fault,” He replies

You hear him storm out of the room. 

“You’re awake for real now?” She sits at the bedside

“Where?-” You ask, trying to sit up

“My family estate,” She explains

“My-my stuff, some of my stuff-” You begin freaking out

“Already taken care of,” She slightly smiles

You sit up from the lush bedsheets, taking deep breathes as you try to wrap your head around the last several hours.

“How long was I out?” You ask the blonde

“Several hours,” She answers, “I continuously checked on you... You were... Crying, tossing and turning, talked in your sleep...”

“Oh? What about?” You ask

“Does... ‘Why me?...’, ‘What am I?...’ Ring a bell?” She asks

It does for me.

Shut up. 

“I may have had those kinds of panic attacks while I slept...” You explains, “Which is why I look like shit right?..”

“I was going to say that you’ve slept for so long,” She says, cocking an eyebrow at you, “But if you think that too than you do you.”

It was an awkward silence for the both of you. You didn’t know what to make of this blondie.

I like her.

I said shut up. 

What? She’s pretty, she’s looked after you the last serval nights.

That doesn’t mean she’s my soulmate or anything... We barely know each other, let alone each others’ names.

“My name’s Rosalie Hale,” the blondie answers

“Huh?” You ask, removing the bedsheets from your legs

“You... Didn’t know my name so... Thought I’d tell you,” She says, “Now, you must be hungry.”

“Yeah,” You say, in a suspicious tone, “Lead the way blondie.”

“It’s Rosalie,” She corrects you

“Alright blondie,” You continue using that nickname

Rosalie turns to you to try and hit you. You easily block her arm with yours. For the first time since childhood, you laughed. A genuine laugh had come out of your mouth. You stopped dead in your tracks; making Rosalie turn to you.

“You okay?” she asks, walking up to you

A chill runs up your spine as you feel her gentle touch against your forearm. You look back at her with a slight surprise. But, Rosalie didn’t seem phased by your sudden change in expression.

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I haven’t laughed in awhile... It’s.. Been a very long time.”

“How long is a long time?” She asks

“Probably when I was a little kid...” You sigh, “Since then, I’ve never really learned to smile, laugh or experience any sort of positive thing...”

“I’m so sorry,” She says, her expression changing to concern, “Well, what matters most is that you now have an actual roof over your head. You are under my care now.”

“You- don’t do me any favors blondie!” You try to protest

“Too late!” She smiles, letting out a small giggle

Ooooh, I do like her.

Aren’t you a fire spirit or something? Lay off buddy.

Oh we getting jealous now huh? 

What?!- No! You aren’t physically here, so that means you can’t have blondie.

So you can?

That’s not what I’m saying- you know what, shut your trap!

“Your friend there is fond of me I see,” Rosalie blushes

“What? Him?” You ask, “You... Can hear him?”

“He’s in your head no?” She asks you

“Well, yes but- how can you know that?” You ask

“Let’s just say I’m full of surprises,” She smirks 

You watch her walk off into the kitchen as you make eye contact with what looked to be her family members. 

“I hope you’re well rested now sweetheart,” A brunette speaks

“That’s the adoptive mother and father; Carlisle and Esme,” Rosalie explains to you

“I’m sorry you have had a tough time these past few months,” Carlisle says, “But, you are more than welcome here.”

“Oh, just at least I can get back up on my feet,” You say, bashfully, “I wouldn’t want to take up any more space than I already have..”

“Nonsense!” A male voice enthusiastically says

Your feet lose contact with the ground. You let out a yelp as you try to get a vision of who had just grabbed you.

“That is my brother... Emmett Cullen,” Rosalie scoffs, “He’s a little bit... Chaotic..”

“Chaotic is my middle name,” He jokes as he sets you right back onto the ground

“Four of our other kids are somewhere around...” Carlisle explains, “Oh, they must be out hunting. You’ll see them when you see them.”

“Thank you again,” You say

Quite a family...

You’re telling me...

After you had gotten a proper meal for the first time in months, you found yourself in the library. You don’t really read that often anymore as you have come to the conclusion that it would take you a century to read a single book. 

“Looking for something in particular?” Rosalie asks from the doorway

“To be honest... No,” You answer, “I guess I’ve just been wandering aimlessly. Never really been in a house this... Spacious..”

It’ll be much more spacious when you come live with me.

Like I said before. You are not my father and don’t try to have me come to wherever the hell it is that you live in.. Not a chance..

“You don’t get along with your dad very well?” Rosalie asks

“Never knew him...” You sigh, looking out to the forestry that surrounded the estate, “My mother said he left as soon as I was born...”

“Hey, before you go on, do you... Want to talk about it elsewhere?” She asks, placing her palm over your upper arm

“That would be nice,” You slightly smile

“I know a place,” Rosalie smiles

In one swift motion, Rosalie hoists you over her shoulder.

“You better hold on leech,” Rosalie teases

“That should be ME telling you that,” You nervously chuckle

Rosalie hops out of an open window; breaking into an inhuman speed. You weren’t sure where to hold on along Rosalie’s clothing without touching an area where Rosalie wouldn’t want you to touch her. So you just hang over her shoulder. Almost like a heavy weight.

“You doing okay?” Rosalie asks

“Yep!” You sort of lie, “Good as we can be blondie!”

“We’re almost there!” Rosalie announces to the both of you

Chapter 2

[expectingtofly]

Claire Novak's (Surprisingly) Not-So-Lame Day

2k

this fic is written for @dean-has-great-taste as part of @starrynightdeancas' gift exchange. thanks sophie for organizing this, it was a lot of fun <33 and i hope you enjoy this, gen!!

*****

How did Claire find herself joining Dean, Cas, and Jack for an excursion to the mall?

Well.

Cas had texted her yesterday, with an extreme amount of emojis and emoticons that took some time to decipher, asking if she wanted to go shopping with him, Dean, and Jack. Apparently Jack needed new clothes and they needed a gift for Eileen’s birthday coming up, and maybe they could go bowling or something afterwards.

And normally she would’ve said no way because hanging out with old guys was lame and she didn’t like little kids, but she needed an excuse to get out of Jody and Donna’s weekend plans of cleaning out the garage. Plus, Kaia needed to study for a test—she actually enjoyed school, the weirdo—and had requested no distractions.

So that’s how she found herself sitting in the back of the Impala next to a carseat, listening to one of Dean’s old cassette tapes (which wasn’t too bad, but she’d never admit it).

“What’s that?” Jack asked, stretching against his carseat straps to jab at one of the pins Claire wore on her leather jacket.

“It’s the lesbian flag,” she told him. Cas looked back at them from the front seat, smiling.

“This one?” Jack pointed to the rainbow pin on her pocket.

“It’s the pride flag.”

Jack considered that for a moment before announcing, “I want one. And this one.” He pointed to the mothman pin on her lapel, then the big-eyed, green alien. “And this one... and this one, and this one.” (Alex said she had more pins than leather on her jacket, but sue her, she liked making her clothing her own).

Jack, it seemed, also liked… unique clothing. The kid was wearing rain boots even though the sun was out and overalls with embroidered flowers. He dressed weird, there was no way around it. But so did Cas, so there was probably no hope for him, poor kid.

“Okay,” she decided. “I know where to get you some.”

Jack beamed and swung his legs. “Don’t kick the seat,” Dean told him, and Jack pouted at him.

Claire was surprised Dean even let a carseat in his precious Impala. Pulling out her phone, she asked, “Can we listen to my music?”

Dean started to respond with a “Hell no,” but Cas spoke up first, “Of course.”

Dean spluttered as Claire connected to the bluetooth connector Sam had finally convinced Dean to install. The old man didn’t realize it was the 21st century, apparently.

“I wanna listen to Gaga!” Jack said, leaning over to look at her phone.

At first she thought that was some baby talk, then she realized Jack was into pop music. Ugh. But it would annoy Dean, so...

Leaning in conspiratorially with Jack, she let him scroll through her phone and choose which song to play. When “Born This Way” started filtering through the car, Dean groaned.

“Really?” he asked, sending her a glare in the rearview mirror. Mission accomplished.

Jack clapped along and Cas turned the music up louder. “Great choice, Jack,” he said.

Dean, for all his grumbling, didn’t turn down the music, and Claire caught him glancing at Cas, who tapped his fingers on his thigh to the beat. Dean looked like he was fighting back a smile and Claire rolled her eyes. Dude was so whipped.

When they parked at the mall, Cas grabbed Jack’s hand before he could sprint across the parking lot. “You have to look both ways,” he reminded him gently, and Jack nodded.

“Claire’s gonna buy me pins,” he said, jumping onto the curb.

“Yup.” Claire pat her jacket pocket. “Good ol’ credit card fraud.”

“Woah, now,” Dean started to protest.

“You and Sam are the ones who taught me!” Claire reminded him.

“We’ll pay for them,” Cas said, opening the door to the mall. Jack skipped inside, his rain boots squeaking on the tiled floor.

“We’re doing what now?” Dean asked Cas, taking his hand. Gross.

“Come on, Jack,” Claire said, catching up to the toddler. “Let’s go get you some style.” Over her shoulder, she called, “Meet up with you guys later.”

“Have fun!” Cas called.

“Don’t get kidnapped,” Dean added.

As they distanced themselves from the old geezers, Jack grabbed her hand, and Claire startled a little. “Do you like dinosaurs?” he asked.

Someone passing by gave them a smile, and Claire realized people probably thought Jack was her younger brother. She let him hold her hand anyway. “Sure.”

“What’s your favorite? Mine is the bon-ta-sore-us.” He sounded out the word carefully.

“Don’t know. What’s the one with the spiky horns?”

“Ti-ce-a-tops?”

“Yeah, that sounds cool.”

“That’s my second favorite!” He started jumping from one colored tile to the next. “And the T-Rex. That’s Dee’s favorite. And Dad likes the steg-a-sore-us.” He peered up at her. “Did you know he got to see dinosaurs? Right in front of him!”

“You know what that means, right?” He shook his head. “He’s super old. He’s basically a dinosaur himself.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “He’s a dinosaur,” he repeated in a hushed whisper.

“Yup.” Spotting Hot Topical, she headed that way. “You should tell him that.”

Inside the store, Jack let go of her hand to grab a stuffed cat. “Claire! Like yours!”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Yeah.” So, she still had the Grumpy Cat Cas had bought her. She wasn’t cruel enough to throw it away when the guy was trying so hard to make up for walking around in her dead dad’s body. Plus, the stuffed animal was kinda cute. Not that she was going to tell anyone that.

“Here ya go,” she told Jack, finding a box of pins at the register. She brought the box down to his level and Jack ran over to look inside.

“I want a Doc McStuffins pin,” he said, plunging his hand into the box.

“I don’t know if they have those.”

As they rooted through the box of pins, she heard familiar voices and looked up to see Dean and Cas walking inside.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asked.

“I like this store,” Cas said and Dean rolled his eyes. Among the pleather and black, Cas’ dingy old trench coat—over a Winnie the Pooh sweatshirt instead of a suit—and Dean’s ratty flannel and boots only looked more ridiculous. She took it back—even Jack dressed better than them.

“You guys don’t have to be in here,” she told them.

“What, we’re too old?” Dean asked defensively.

“Yeah, actually.”

Cas poked at a toy and it squeaked. God, could they be any more embarrassing?

“Dad!” Jack called, holding out a rainbow pin. “Look, they have soo many.” Cas joined Jack in going through the pins and Claire asked Dean, giving his outfit a meaningful look,

“Was the Army Surplus store too trendy for you?”

“Did they kick you out of Sephora for buying up all the eyeliner?“ Dean shot back.

Touché. In a truce, she held out a pin with the bisexual flag. She wasn’t really sure what Dean identified as, if he even gave it any thought, but guessed it was close enough. “For you.”

Dean rolled his eyes but took it. “I’m not weighing down my jacket with this crap, though.”

“No, ‘course not, that would mean having any sort of style.”

“Can I help you with anything?” asked an employee with two nose rings and jewelry up and down their ears— so cool. Claire saw the way their eyes flicked between them, probably thinking they made a weird group, and she took a step back, trying to silently communicate that yes, she was shopping with them, but no, she was not as lame as them.

“Just looking,” Dean told them.

“I like your drawings,” Jack said and the employee looked down at their arms which were littered with tattoos.

“Thanks.”

“My dad has a drawing. It’s Enochian.”

The employee—Wren, by the name tag—looked at Cas with new respect in their eyes. “Language of the angels. Sick.”

Cas looked pleased. “Thank you. It’s come in handy more than once.”

The employee went back to looking confused and, starting to walk away, told them to call if they needed anything.

“Do you want anything?” Cas asked Claire, and Claire looked through the box. She grabbed a pentagram pin and, seeming to copy her, Jack grabbed another one, clutching several pins already in his fists.

“You like bees, right?” Claire asked Cas, spotting a “Save the Bees” pin. She held it up for him.

Cas’ eyes brightened. “That’s a wonderful message.” He glanced back at Dean and frowned. “Dean, they’re not going to bite.”

Claire looked over to see Dean shying away from a few emo teens. “Look like it,” Dean muttered, joining them. Jack lifted up his hands, asking to be hoisted up. Dean set him on his hip and Jack showed him the pins he’d selected. He held a dinosaur pin to Dean’s collar.

“Do you want one, Dee?”

“He’s too lame,” Claire piped up. Not for the first time, she noticed the healed over piercing mark on Dean’s right ear and pointed to it. “Looks like he used to be cool, though.”

“Yeah, guess so,” Dean said dryly. His hand went to his earlobe. “Pierced it myself, in high school.”

“I think you’re still cool,” Cas told him, and Claire fake-gagged, making Jack giggle.

Cas took the pins to the cash register where Wren rang them up. Dean added the bisexual flag pin and Claire threw in a pair of spiky earrings, because, hey, they were paying.

“15.36,” Wren told them, dropping the pins into a bag.

“My dad’s a dinosaur,” Jack told them, trying to see over the edge of the counter. Wren raised an eyebrow, Cas looked surprised, and Claire stifled a laugh.

“Claire, help me,” Jack said, grabbing the bag from Cas as they exited the store. Moving to the side, Claire helped him attach the pins to his overalls. A smiley face, a pride flag, a grinning Stitch, a sunflower, a dinosaur, and the pentagram. The pins clacked as Jack tugged at his overalls, trying to look at them all. Overall, a chaotic look, but it kinda matched his vibe.

“Lookin’ good,” she told him, and Jack beamed.

“I’m like you!”

Alright, she wouldn’t take it that far, but, “Yeah, close enough.”

Cas attached the “Save the Bees” pins to his trench coat pocket and it ended up crooked. Rolling her eyes, Claire said, “Let me.”

She reattached the pin and stepping back to look it over, decided, “You could actually make that coat look cool if you added more stuff to it.”

Cas looked down at himself. “Thank you.”

“Nothing’s gonna save that sweatshirt, though.” Couldn’t let his ego get too big.

“Dean said he liked it,” Cas said, glancing back at Dean, who was shooting an evil eye at Claire. He quickly wiped it off his face and draped an arm over Cas’ shoulders.

“Yeah, it’s uh… Charming.” He guided Cas away from Claire. “Don’t listen to her, she still thinks sarcasm is a personality trait.”

“Screw you, old man,” she called. Jack skipped after them and she checked her phone to see Kaia had texted her: How’s everything going? They drive you crazy yet?

They’re so weird, she texted back. Then she added, They’re not too bad.

“Come on, Jack,” she said, hurrying to catch up with him, Dean, and Cas. “Let’s go get our ears pierced.”

“Yay!” Jack cheered. He grabbed her hand and tugged her down the mall.

“Woah, woah, you’re not doing that,” Dean protested like the wet blanket he was.

“You can get yours pierced too,” Claire told him, and he faltered,

“I don’t want, we’re not—“

“You know you want to.” She let Jack lead her away and Dean called after them,

“We're never bringing you shopping again!”

Grinning, she turned to shout over her shoulder, “You know you love me!”

[petersnya]

SOMETIMES

PETER PARKER X FEM!READER

---NOT MY PHOTO/GIF---

PART ONE

Prompt/Summary: “...some people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes…” /// Peter Parker meets the love of his life. But is he the love of hers? Having a bad past always affects the future.

Warnings: ANGST, FLUFF, SMUT(light smut towards the end xxx tehe) ECT. 

Word count: 3026

[A/N]Wattupp! So I have been busy with volleyball lately but I finally have the time to write! I got this idea while I was in class and it seemed like it would be perfect lol. I love Marvel so much like I grew up reading the comics so I’m excited to write this ( I'm in love with Peter Parker/Tom Holland too ). I'm thinking this should be a series??? Idk. Let me know what you think! ENJOY AND SHARE WITH YOUR FRIENDS!! Explicit content ahead…(this was also inspired by a song I love called moral of the story. tehe I love Niall Horan bruh) 

-J.T.S xxx

“Sup Parker, ” a tall, curly-haired girl rushed through the front door of Peter Parker's apartment. “Aunt May here?” the girl questioned the brown-eyed boy who was frantically following the girl with his eyes from his seated position on the couch. 

“No, uh, she's not. She's at work actually- wait what are you doing here MJ?” Peter questioned the girl, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. He stood from the couch, approaching the kitchen counter that MJ was standing behind, putting whatever she had run into the house with in the kitchen drawer. 

“Uh, just… Hangin’ out, ” MJ explained, shrugging her shoulder as she hopped onto the counter facing Peter, swinging her legs with an innocent look on her face. 

“Yeah sure, I'm not gonna believe tha -” 

“MJ! The hell is wrong with you! Give them back you oversized giraffe!” a loud banging on the door caught MJ and Peter’s attention making them turn their heads towards it. MJ, not looking shocked at all, but Peter having a tariffed look on his face. 

“We’re the same height dumbass!” MJ shouted back to the girl on the other side of the door with a smirk on her face. Peter was confused by the situation. Turning his head back at MJ, who was silently snickering, he questioned, “Who the hell is that?”, the tan girl, who was now standing next to him, made her way to open the door. 

“MJ gets the fuck out here and give me my-” the mystery girl on the other side of the door was cut off by the door opening in her face. She stood there in shock, looking past MJ at the curly-haired boy standing next to her. Peter looked away from MJ then at the girl who was standing in the doorway. He couldn’t help but stare at her, taking in the beautiful sight in front of him. Peter was taken aback when suddenly, her lips curled into a wide smile. She pointed her finger at MJ, the at Peter, and back again. Peter had no idea what was going on until MJ’s smirk that she had faded off of her face.

“No. No, no, no, ” she said grabbing the girl's hand and pushing it down to her side. 

“And who is this MJ?” she said slyly. 

“This is…” MJ paused, glancing back at Peter then back to the girl at the door. “Penis Parker.” she then said with a slight chuckle. 

“Hey! Wha- no! That’s not my name! MJ I swear to-“ 

“Your mom named you penis?” She said, raising an eyebrow in confusion. MJ laughed walking out of the door and next to the girl. “And this is my cousin, Y/N.” 

“Sup man,” Y/N said to Peter with a big goofy grin on her face. 

“Alright we’ll be leaving now,” MJ said grabbing her cousin’s hand, dragging her away from the door. 

“Penis is kinda hot cuz. How have you not fu-“ 

“We’re leaving!” MJ shouted over Y/N, dragging her out of the way to where Peter couldn’t see them anymore, but just in Peter’s favor, he heard everything.

\\\

The next day, Peter was walking out of school with MJ and his best friend, Ned. 

“So MJ, I heard you have a cousin. Y/N…” Ned said, leaning forward, looking across Peter to see MJ who was walking on the other side of him. Peter hit Ned on the shoulder with his, silently telling him to stop talking about it. MJ chuckle. 

“Well uh, I gotta go. See you guys later! Good luck Pete.” Ned said with a wink as he walked towards the bus.

“Wait, Ned! We ride the bus- together… whatever.”

MJ and Peter walked down the stairs talking about all their classes, the teachers they hated, and other things. As they made their way to the sidewalk they heard someone yelling at them, causing both of them to turn their heads towards the loud voice. 

“Ah. I forgot, Y/N’s picking me up today.” 

“Y/N? Oh…” Peter said, trying to hide the blush on his face. Every time he thought about her, he couldn’t help but re-play the words she said yesterday: ...he’s kinda hot… Peters has never had that sort of attention given to him by a girl especially one that looked like Y/N. To him, she was an angel. But Peter, being the typical person he was, wouldn’t even think about approaching her- being afraid of rejection. 

“How old is she?” Peter asked curiously, the thought lingering in his mind. 

“Our age. She’s home-schooled.” the tall her said, stuffing her hands in the side pockets of her jacket. Peter looked at her curiously, if she’s home-schooled then why is she with MJ all the time now? 

“Her uh, her dad just recently passed, due to health difficulties, so she and her mom moved down here to get a new start. While her mom is trying to get their new house and a stable job down in Queens she will be staying with me for about… a year I think. I, of course, let her stay with me. She’s my favorite cousin and I don’t want her to be alone during this ruff time.” she explained, practically reading Peter’s expression. He nodded in response, his eyes glued to his feet.

“MJ! MJ come on! Harry Potter re-run of the first two movies start in T-minus 10 minutes and I have to go pick up my new sweatshirt!” Y/N yelled from her car while honking the horn. The upper half of her body sticking out of the driver’s window while her forearms supported her on the roof of her car.

“Annnddd, she kinda a nerd, but she considers herself just ‘well educated’.” Peter chuckled as he looked at Y/N. Once they got to the car, MJ threw her backpack in the passenger window. Y/N slide back into her window, shoving the bag in the back. MJ then opened the car door and hopped in, clicking her seat belt. She waved bye to Peter.

“Bye Peter Parker.”

“Later MJ.”

“Oooh, so his name isn’t penis… I knew it! Peter, it’s cute. Sup Parker!” 

Peter started to blush but it was hard to see from his face already red from the heat of the sun. He smiled and waved to her, noticing how her Y/E/C eyes glistened in the sun.

“H-hey, Y/N.” He said toying with the strap of his bag, his curls in his face. 

“Heyyy! You should come watch the Harry Potter movies three and four with me and MJ Friday! You can even bring that one guy you guys are always talking to.” She said leaning on the steering wheel, looking at Peter through her long, mascara coated eyelashes.

“Sure I’d love to come… wait- do you have your driver's license?” the question lingered in Peter’s mind.

“Nope!” Y/N yelled as she sped away, the tires of the car screeching on the road. Peter could still hear their loud laughter of the two cousins as they drove away.

That night while Peter was patrolling as Spider-Man, he stopped and landed on the building next to MJ’s place. There was a window that was the only lit room. He thought it was MJ so he was going to go up and scare her, but once he got closer, he could see that it was Y/N. His heartbeat quickened as he watched her walk over to her bed, putting her hair in a ponytail. She was wearing an oversized black T-shirt. As she was putting her hair up, she stretched her arms causing her shirt to reveal her very small underwear. Peter could feel his suit beginning to get uncomfortable at the view in front of him.

Quickly, Peter swung away from the building making his way home before Y/N or anyone could see him.

He crawled back into his window making sure to stay quiet so that Aunt May wouldn’t hear. Once he had his suit off, he showed and got into bed. Peter couldn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t help but think about Y/N. She was tattooed in his brain and, of course, tattoos don’t go away. 

///

The days went by slow, well, they went slow to Peter. He was overly excited to go to MJ’s place and watch a movie with Y/N. That was the only person on his mind, her. But those slow days soon went by and it was Friday afternoon. Peter was so anxious he practically ran home to put his school stuff away and then ran to MJ’s. 

He approached the door to her place and knocked on the door with his fist. Peter whipped his sweaty palms on his flannel, waiting for the door to open. 

“What up Pete! MJ said you would be here around this time. Come on in man.” Y/N said as she flung open the door with a soft smile on her face. Peter couldn’t get enough of her energetic personality. He followed Y/N, closing the door behind him. The brown-eyed boy couldn’t help but admire her as she walked in front of him. Her outfit consists of high-waisted but loose jeans, a plain black tube top with a very large flannel that was left unbuttoned. 

“Uh, Michelle and your other friend… Ned! That’s his name, I can never remember,” she chuckled nervously, “they uh- went to the store to go get snacks and food so they should be back in a little while. I’m gonna go get some blankets and stuff from my room for the movies, there pretty long so I wanna be comfortable. Wanna help?” Y/N said as she started to walk towards her room, looking over her shoulder to see if Peter was following.

“Oh, yeah, sure I’ll help you,” he said, slowly trailing behind her. As they went into her room she started to grab blankets and pillows, tossing them by the door. Peter couldn’t help but admire her well-decorated room, it fits her personality so well, he thought to himself. He walked over to her tall nightstand and saw a pair of glasses sitting on them. For some reason, they intrigued him. 

“Do you mind?” he asked. “Nah, not at all,” Y/N replied not looking up from the pile of blankets in the corner, waving her hand in a ‘go ahead’ motion. Peter shrugged and turned his attention back to the glasses. They were small and black, they didn’t look like they would fit her face. He picked them up, examining them curiously. Y/N looked over at Peter, immediately dropping everything in her hands and rushing over to him. She snatched the glasses out of his hand and put them in her drawer. Peter was taken aback by this sudden action, raising his hands in a surrendering motion. 

“Don’t touch those,” Y/N said harshly. She looked at Peter’s face that was plastered with an apologetic look. “I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. My… my dad gave me those,” she explained. Peter mumbled an ‘it’s ok’ under his breath. 

She walked over to the edge of her bed, scooting over to give Peter room to sit down. He took the hint and went to sit next to her. Y/N sat there, her leg bouncing as she tried to take steady breathes to calm herself down, fiddling with the many rings on her fingers. 

“Hey, you ok Y/N?” Peter asked, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. She looked up at him with glossed-over eyes. She let out a shaky breath and nodded. Licking her lips, she began to explain. 

“Well uh, m-my dad, he uh… he passed away about two weeks ago. When I was younger we used to always read together and I would have trouble saying some of the words. My mom thought it was just cause I couldn’t read properly yet but my dad always said ‘my little girl is the smarts little girl I know… she’s just as blind as a bat, like her father,’ Y/N paused, sniffing while wiping the tear that rolled down her cheek before continuing, “He bought me those glasses after the eye doctor told me my vision was terrible. The day before he passed away, he took the glasses off that he had and handed them to me. I tried to stop him and tell him that I had some, but all he did was look at my mom and then back at me and said, ‘she’s just as blind as a bat, like her father.’” the last part came out in a whisper. 

Reaching over to her bedside table, Y/N grabbed a pair of circular glasses that looked like they were from the Harry Potter movie. “My dad loved Harry Potter, I never wear them though cause I-I’m just...scared. I don’t know why though. It’s just silly.” she said with a slight smile. “MJ took my contacts from me just a few days ago to get me to wear them and I still haven’t gotten them back.” so that’s why she came over that day, Peter wondered. 

Peter was about to say something but MJ and Ned came into the apartment, yelling that they were back with the snacks and food. 

“T-minus 10 minutes Y/N,” MJ yelled from the kitchen.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a second,” Y/N shouted back to her, “you should go ahead.”

Peter got up to leave the room, but before he did he turned to say something,  “I think that your dad would want you to wear them, Y/N. Trust me,” he said with a soft smile that caused Y/N to smile back at him.

///

“Dude, where’s Y/N? She’s never late for an H.P movie,” MJ questioned. Peter and Ned looked at each other shrugging before looking back at her. Only two minutes later, Y/N came walking out of her room, they all turned their heads to look. 

“Ok, I’m ready for the movie,” she said with a big goofy smile on her face. Peter and MJ looked at her in shock. Ned had no idea what was going on and just sat and ate popcorn. Y/N had on some shorts and a Slytherin sweatshirt, but that wasn’t the shocking part. She was wearing her dad’s glasses. 

“What? Do you guys not like my sweatshirt?” 

“I think it’s great,” Ned said giving her a thumbs up. 

“Thanks, Ned, glad to see someone appreciates it,” Y/N said sarcastically. MJ and Peter looked at each other. Peter was about to say something but MJ put a finger up signaling for him not to. Y/N sat between MJ and Peter on the couch, grabbing a bag of chips while adjusting the glasses on her face. She looked over at Peter mouthing the word ‘thank you’  causing Peter to blush but hid it quickly.

About thirty minutes into the movie, Y/N got comfortable and snuggled her head into MJ’s shoulder while MJ laid her head onto of Y/N’s. Y/N had her exposed long, smooth legs draped over Peter’s thighs. This sent Peters mind wondering: 

As she slowly straddled my lap, I placed my hands on her thighs, keeping her steady. My large hands squeezed at her exposed skin. I ran them to her ass, repeating the motion causing her to jerk, rubbing her core against jeans, making her moan quietly in my ear. Her arms hugged around my neck. She moved her head to where her lips were perfectly leveld with mine. She connected her lips with mine in a soft kiss, but I wanted more. I needed more. I ran my tongue over her bottom lips, squeezing her ass in my hand once again. Her lips were parted slightly, giving me access to slip my tongue into her mouth. She surprised me with her next move. She wrapped her lips around my tongue then released it with a slight smacking noise. This made me harder than I was before- if that was even possible. We sat there for a second, staring into each other’s eyes, noticing how they were filled with lust. Before I could even think my actions through, I removed my hand from her ass, grabbing her jaw and pulling her facing into mine, catching her lips and lustful but passionate kiss. My tongue almost immediately won the dominance against hers. I flipped us so that I was on top and started to trail kisses down her exposed stomach. Her thighs wrapped around my head as her back arched off of the bed. I put my hands on her lower back. I started to tease her soaked-

“I don’t see how you like Draco Malfoy?” Ned’s voice snapped Peter out of his daydream, turning his head over to Ned who was munching on a handful of popcorn.  

“What!” MJ and Y/N screamed. Ned and Peter both turned their heads to them, wondering why they seemed so upset. “What do you mean why do we like Draco Malfoy,” MJ said.

“What type of question is that?” Y/N said, finishing her sentence. This caused MJ and Y/N to go into a whole ordeal on why Draco is their favorite character. All Peter could do was watch the way her pink lips moved as she explained. 

This helped Peter calm down from his daydream and stoping his hard-on to be seen. Thank God…

///

That night, Peter laid awake in his bed, thinking about how Y/N looked in his fantasy. He wished that it was really like so so badly. He couldn’t help to feel this attraction towards her, from the first time he saw her. It wasn’t just her good looks, even though to Peter she was stunning, it was her style, her personality, the way her eyes squinted and her cheekbones rose when she laughed. The way she would ramble about anything and everything. His last thought before he drifted into sleep rang in his brain,

Does she feel the same? 

[A/N] Hey bestie :))) hope you liked this chapter! Thank you for the support and make sure to send me ideas for imagines you guys want! IM GONNA TRY TO UPLOAD EVERY DAY OR EVERY OTHER DAY AT 5:30/6:30 PM. 

 DISCLAIMER!!! THE NEXT CHAPTER IS FULL OF SMUT.. are you ready?

-J.T.S xxx

[n0wornever]

Best Friends Who Kiss? - Luke Patterson x Reader

“Can you make one where I’m best friends with Luke and everyone else (But little does Luke know I actually love him, everyone else can see it, but him.) I’ve liked him almost all my life...”

(This is the least amount of dialogue I’ve written in awhile, but with the way that it was requested, this style just felt right. let me know if you hate this style?)

It started out at recess in 2nd grade. She sat on the swings alone when he approached her, sitting in the adjacent seat. She looked up and smiled at him, and he, toothless and all, introduced himself to her.

“I’m Luke.” 

After that, she was there through all of his fights with his mom, all of the ego-driven fights he had with Bobby over creative rights to their band's music, and the heartbreak over girls she barely knew. He was there through for her through all the trauma that came with her dad’s anger issues, her lackluster love life stories, and her frustration stemming from her art and her lack of confidence.

The rest was history. Quite literally after the accident. There was one thing that was for certain, that Y/N’s feelings for Luke stayed the same in life and death. His were a little less clear. After entering the world of 2020, they met Julie and she saw a spark in him that she had missed, even when he was playing with Bobby and the boys.

Luke started playing the guitar and singing back up vocals for Julie with the band, and the fire in his eyes was rekindled. Sometimes she sat in on rehearsals, but most of the time Luke was so preoccupied he didn’t even really speak to her the entire time she was there.

She started leaving a little earlier every day before rehearsal ended, making her way back to the park where they met in hopes that he’d join her. He never did, but she’d sit in the swing for a while and think about him and different moments between them.

Like the time when they were 11 and they were riding bikes when Luke fell and broke his arm in two places. She remembered him pointing to her in the emergency room and demanding that she was in the room with him, otherwise, he wouldn’t go in. He got his way and she sat next to him for hours during the stay.

Or when they were 14 and Luke had his first real date that ended in disaster. He showed up on her front porch that night because he just “wanted to hear her voice” and tell her all about the tragic events. That was the night that he told her that he didn’t think anyone would ever get him the way she did. She remembered her heart fluttering at those words.

Nothing ever happened between them though, and she was convinced now that even when her emotions got the best of her, Luke’s feelings were always platonic. She watched him sway and sing with Julie with this look of admiration she hadn’t ever seen before. Their voices and energies blending so seamlessly. Julie was so kind she couldn’t even find it in her heart to get angry at her. After they visited the nightclub the day of Julie’s performance she was certain that she had to make a decision. Caleb had an offer that wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be better than wallowing in self-pity every single day and masquerading as a part of a group that didn’t even recognize when she left. 

She knew the boys could fight it, but she wasn’t even sure she wanted to at this point. So tonight, she was going to do it. She was going to meet up with Caleb and accept his offer.

She grabbed her coat that was left behind in the garage when she saw one of Luke’s old flannels spread out on the couch. She grabbed it, placing it over her body before putting on her jacket. She looked around the room once more before poofing out the of the room.

The boys reentered the space after a late-night exploring, hyped on adrenaline. He spun around, looking for a nightlight or a slight lull of music that would let him know that Y/N was home. When he saw neither he began to pace around the room.

Alex stopped him in his tracks, looking at him with wide eyes “Woah, Luke chill what is going on?”

He looked up at his friend with tears raising in his eyes “Where is Y/N, you don’t think she went back to talk to Caleb, do you?”

Alex shook his head, squeezing his bandmate’s shoulders “Breath, we have no clue if that’s where she went, let’s not go all doomsday before we think about our options.

Luke nodded, trying to swallow with the knot in his throat. “She loves the beach…but it scares her to be alone there at night, even as a ghost.” He thought about it some more “She loves that record shop on 3rd…but she….wait.”

He stopped and looked at all of his friends in the dim light that sent a spotlight into the center of the room. “You guys stay here, I think I know where she is.” He left the room in a snap, transporting himself to a familiar swingset. There she sat on the swing, twirling the chains above her until she let them go and spun around quickly. A light smile fell onto her face but fell quickly as she landed at a standstill.

He was slow in his movements, inching quietly into the woodchips and sitting down without making a sound. She heard the jingling of the chains next to her and looked over panicked.

“Hey,” he said quietly, watching her face settle as her eyes met his

“Hi,” She gave him a weak smile before diverting her gaze to the stars. 

“Please tell me that you’re here nostalgia's sake and not because you’re thinking about what I think you are…” He started, pumping his legs back and forth to bring himself into the air.

“I…I don’t know.” 

He slowed, slamming his feet to the ground before facing her “You’re really just going to up and leave me, after all these years? You didn’t think I deserved an explanation? At least a goodbye? Y/N, I thought we knew each other better than that”

She sighed, leaning against the cold metal as she let tears softly fall down her cheeks. She finally makes eye contact with him again, shaking her head at him.

“Like you’d even notice I was gone, Luke.”

He was silent.

“Don’t get me wrong, I really like Julie and I think that she has made you a better musician… but you’ve replaced me and don’t even try to deny it. Reggie and Alex even forget that I live in the garage too half of the time. I’m like a ghost among ghosts, who even knew that was possible?!” 

Her eyes fixed on the ground below her, she wanted to hear what he had to say. As he took a breath in, she shrunk a bit waiting for the worst.

“I….had no idea that you felt that way. I am, such an idiot. I haven’t even bothered to check in on you recently. Y/N I am so sorry.” She could hear his voice breaking and didn’t even need to look up to know that he was crying.

“It’s okay.”

He scoffed “Obviously it’s not fine when my best friend decides that disappearing into the night is a better option than being around me.”

She looked back up at him, shaking her head “That’s not what I meant Luke.” He stood up and walked over to her swing, standing in front of her. He leaned forward, inches away from her face. She felt her heart race at the proximity and the look in his eyes.

“Remember that night that I told you that you’re the only one who gets me?” She nodded, holding his gaze. “I meant that.”

She let the left side of her mouth raise a bit into a half-smile. Looking into his glossy eyes she got lost in so many times before, she didn’t know what to say. He didn’t wait for her to respond before continuing “I’m sorry I made you feel less than the most important person in my life because you are.”

She tried to speak but stopped her “Let me finish,” She nodded, letting him go on.

“I care about you so much, Y/N, and the fact that you even had to consider if that was true…it…” His voice shook a little as he took a breath in “It hurts a lot more than I could have ever expected.”

He got down on both knees in front of her to get at eye level. She bit down on her bottom lip as she looked at him, backlit by the moonlight and the street-lamps.

“I love you, Y/N.” 

She wiped her tears onto her sleeve before responding “I love you too, Luke” He grinned at her, grabbing her cheeks into his hands and leaning in to kiss her lips. The kiss was soft and sweet and short, but it was enough to make her feel like it was a summer day on this cold autumn night. When they pulled away, he leaned his forehead against hers.

“Please come home with me, please stay.”

She looked into his eyes, feeling his thumbs rub her cheeks ever so slightly. She nodded. He smiled through his tears, standing up and extended his hand toward her. She took it and rose to meet him. They interlocked their hands and walked the long way home. 

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Tag list: @xplrreylo, @lovesanimals, @anythingandeverythingfandom, @crybabyddl, @oswin05, @joshy-obx, @lukeys-giggle, @bumbleberry-pie @kiss-themoongoodbye, @anythingandeverythingfandoms, @marinettepotterandplagg, @lolychu, @bathtimejish, @dasexydevitt13@musicconversedance ,@txrii, @bestdressedandstressed, @daisiesforlacey​ @carleywhittaker @epikskool

[herstarburststories]

He didn’t make it to 42

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: it’s Dean’s birthday, you go to visit him with some news and things that need to be said.

A/N: Happy bday, De.

Warnings: so much angst, mentions of sex, hopeful/happy ending (?)

Dean’s dead. It’s Dean’s birthday and he’s dead. You can’t argue much.

Sam denied the demon blood inside him, and that didn’t stop its evil nature from growing and gasping for his fresh air to the point he was almost shocked alive. Dean denied his dad’s destructive methods’ results for the longest time, and that didn’t stop the cicatrixes in every emotion he had ever shown. You denied the absence of Dean and that didn’t stop the bricks cracking in your soul. There’s only so far you can go with your eyes closed.

So here you are. Standing in front of an empty grave. You are bigger than the dull tombstone, yet you can’t help but not to feel tall, at all. How can you even start to talk? Talking to Dean used to be easy even when it got hard and now you’re feeling like a lost kid in a supermarket. Your snide thinking spells out his name with venom, saying it isn’t easy for you to open your barmy mouth and spill out contrarian shit because this isn’t Dean, just another meaningless symbolism that Sam promises that will help. The real Dean died almost a year ago, he was burned in a hunter’s funeral, the flames dancing over his body as the smell of burnt meat invaded your nostrils. Whenever you try to remember his fragrance, that manly aroma which you loved to scent each morning, all your brain can come up with is the odor of his skin and guts burning. The smell lingers like bad perfume, it doesn’t matter how many times you wash yourself with his soap-- that only broke your heart worse.

But today is Dean’s birthday. He deserves a visit, even if it’s not him. Then you go and attempt to deal with the desolation, push it away just a little, and pick up something from the enormous pile of things you wish to tell Dean. You glance at the cold tombstone: Dean Winchester. 1979 - 2020. Beloved son, big brother, and husband. Hunter. A hero. Simple definitions that can never make it up for who he was and what he meant. You purse your lips and cough a little, a gentle wind touches your cheek so tenderly. If you were still a believer, you’d think this is some sort of sign, Dean’s presence or some other pious hoax. All you do now is to remain in quietude, a deep breath. Ultimately, your voice comes:

‘’You didn’t make it to forty two, huh?’’ You scoff humorless, reminiscing to the multiple days that Dean said he wouldn’t go past 35. He did live each year like it was the last--- you aren’t sure if it's such a good thing. If you carry on like your days are outnumbered, you are silently entertaining yourself until death's knock on your door. ‘’I always hated when you were right. Let’s be honest, you had the words of a pessimist and the wants of an optimist. Still, if you were to be right about something, it would be about a bad situation. A nest with too many vampires, how crappy the motel’s bedroom would be, or how that third glass of wine would make me tipsy. So yeah, I always hated when you were right. And look at you now! You aren’t right, you aren’t wrong. You are dead! And I’m the crazy girl screaming at an empty tombstone.’’

You let out a laugh empty of joy. That’s how a hunter’s life is: you die and people stop talking about you because it’s too sad or too long gone to hold any pity, meanwhile the ones who recall about you go loud with all the spirits in their heads. You put your hand in the pockets of the heavy leather jacket that once belonged to a green eyed man who would be turning 42 today, some strange force causing you to speak again.

‘’Wow.’’ You shake your head to the blue way you paint the scene until you notice that you never greeted him. ‘’Hey.’’ The simple word adds a comical insult to injury. ‘’Guess the dead don’t care about manners, huh?’’ You arch your eyebrows with a grin that demonstrates anything but happiness. ‘’Miracle died. Sam digged a hole next to the bunker and buried him there. He isn’t the same since you died, you know? Not the deceased dog-- Well, he wasn’t the same either. Always whining and scratching your door like a fucking cat, and sniffing your old boots. He made me company in your bed and I whined as much as he did when you didn’t come back home that day. He stood by the door most days, waiting for you to appear. I can’t judge him, I did the same.’’ You shrug, not caring about how risible that confession may look. It's true. You became as irrational as a loyal dog at some point in this sorrow. ‘’And Sam, your baby brother… I think he died with you right there, Dean. He didn’t try to bring you back as he promised, but I shouted and screamed so much. I said I would burn the bunker and throw Baby over a cliff if he didn’t-- if he didn’t let me try. I lived up to the mad woman title.’’

You are crestfallen, pacing on top of where the eldest Winchester - Sam’s brand new nomination -  supposedly was buried. You know your boots barely touch an infected land, there's no deceased man under your steps. The dead thing is in you.

‘’I spent days dragging your body everywhere and nowhere, anywhere I could catch a crumb of relief in hope to bring you back. But I couldn’t. Jack could, but that ungrateful idiot doesn’t wanna follow his grandpa steps and get too attached to mere humans, the creation or whatever. As if we are just some skin and bone to him, as if you are just another human.’’

You sit down on the tombstone, some tender solace in being close to a thing that's supposed to represent him, like sleeping hugged to a pillow or waking up to a photograph of his. Your nails sink against the gelid concrete at the thought of screaming into the sky for the new God that seemed as deaf as the last one. His calm answer to your burning pain. How he dared to tell you he knew what he was doing— as if he was the original lord and not a three years old. You can't make him do it, so you hold on the fury of some overthrown nation.

‘’Anyway, I couldn’t bring you back. Your body, well, you know how human anatomy works. Your body started to smell like death. We tried to stop with human and magic ways, and it wouldn’t work because you were dead. You should’ve seen the doctor’s face when we got you in that fancy hospital tha night. I think we traumatized the doctor with so much violence and trauma. She didn’t even give us a false hope or anything, you know? She just asked about organ donation of what was left. She just wanted to take every little thing out of you, as if you were just another accident on a Tuesday night.’’ Your shake your head as the memories and your points start to mix, it's hard to discern things and keep a straight line when you have an open wound in your insides. ‘’Well, they couldn’t bring you back to life, and neither could Rowena or whatever I looked for. Don’t be mad because I tried, Winchester. You know I’m too stubborn for my own good. I had to try.’’ you refuse to apologize, yet adds the playful words in his eulogy. ‘’But then your body started to stink and God, how could I continue to be so violent to your corpse? That was when I decided to listen to you for the first time and to Sam, so I let you go. I hate you for asking that.’’ What an ambiguous, contradictory truth to bare. You are glimpses of a person for months because of Dean Winchester, still have the energy to argue his selfless logic, just to love him even more. He's got your devotion, but man you can hate him sometimes. ‘’I hate you for going on that stupid hunt. I hate you for being dead, you giant idiot that I love so much.’’ You can't bring your mouth to say loved. "I was always telling you to let the past go and now I’m in love with a dead thing. What a comic way to end our history. I told you that Miracle died, right? I don’t know if dogs go to heaven, but I hope he’s in there with you. I wonder what your heaven is like. I bet it has Whiskey.''

Your dry chuckle makes your notice the tears in your eyes, glistening your orbs as they go like a waterfall to be absorbed by the thirsty land after leaving your cheeks.

"Sam and I-- We tried to make some sense out of this cruelty, but we can’t. You are dead and I can’t seem to put it past me. I still sleep in your bed, and I can still taste your body burning on the roof of my mouth in the quiet nights. I cried this morning because someone asked for a burger, can you believe that? It was so stupid since I used to shake my head and argue with you about cholesterol. Suddenly I was crying at lunch in a restaurant because some stupid kid asked for a burger with extra bacon. They sang Happy birthday to this dumbass child, and I interrupted with my awful crying, and wished that you were celebrating your birthday and not that kid. I guess you could say I wish death upon an innocent child with a problematic eating routine.’’ That was a whole new level of low, as if you are the one wrapped with the sentiment of laying six feet under.

‘’Everyone tells you about how grief is singular and particular with similar emotions that bring people who went through this together. They even have that crap stages thing and all that. You know what they don’t tell you?’’ Your mouth shuts for a moment, like you are waiting some response. You nod as if whatever you were expecting is handed to you. ‘’Grief can be fucking ridiculous. Who cries because of a burger full of oil and cardiac diseases? Who cries because they found a grocery store recipe under her dead boyfriend’s bed? Who falls on the ground screaming in the middle of the mall because they saw a flannel? Who? Those things are so stupid.’’ You smile like there's no tomorrow and the laugh leaving your lips is a treacherous tone. Perhaps you just aren't build up to express joy anymore. ‘’You see it in the movies and in the books and you think, you know, you think to yourself that grieving is being sad on special dates and randomly remembering the loved ones because of some screaming memory, like a flannel or their perfume. Thing is, it’s not just that. All your body seems so small, so tight for all the ache and agony inside it. Your senses go wild, you are not just one person in one place. You’re just the pain everywhere, like being pulled apart and you beg to jump in the fucking grave with them. At least you would be together, at least you would feel like one person and not suffering edges of a broken earthy thing. And--And you start remembering things you didn’t even know you had mesmerized. I look at the ceiling and remember you saying you’d paint it someday. I look at the kitchen and remember me screaming at you for giving Miracle the rest of the food. I smell Sam’s clothes and started crying because hey, they don’t smell like alcohol. You don’t iron them while drinking anymore, so of course they don’t smell like cheap beer.’’ You are chuckling through the tears and it only makes it more monstrous. ‘’Everything is you now that you are gone. Every man has something similar to you, every garden is green as your eyes, and each step sounds like you are coming home. They didn’t prepare me, not for this.’’ You said breathless. A soft single follows. The knife cuts both ways; the empty breeze and the words hurt. Where's the middle term? Where's the limbo? Where's the only safe place for you to rest your weary head?

Out of nowhere, you blurt out, ‘’I can’t masturbate,’’ I know it’s something stupid and even selfish to say, but I think you’d like to know. I can’t masturbate. That’s a part of the whole losing someone process that people are too ashamed to discuss, or maybe they don’t have the urge to be touched anymore because after someone you love dies, after someone-- the hands who touched are dead and cold, you become a haunted object. That’s how I feel most days, like I’m a haunted house because you touched me and now you’re dead and some days I believe I am too.’’ You look around the places. It's beautiful. It's lonely. It has trees and flowers and green. Not as green as Dean's eyes, but it doesn't matter anymore. He doesn't even have eyes at this point. ‘’Well, I can’t masturbate. I can’t touch myself. And I can’t ask someone else either. I tried and ended up punching the guy, Dean. I swear. I panicked when he was between my legs and just punched his nose. You’d have liked it, you were always the jealous kind. I won’t admit that, but I thought it was kinda hot. Especially when you got possessive in sex.’’ A dirty grin appeared on your lips, the echoes of luxury lasting in your eyes for a brief moment. ‘’I don’t think I can be cared for anymore, honestly. Sam tried to hug me when Miracle died and I… It was like I wasn't there. I got frozen in time, and I live in my sleep. In my nightmares you are alive. I  dream about the day you died every week and I used to wake up screaming, but now those nightmares are the only proof you were alive now that you’re as dead as the police report says this time. It was the most painful, calamitous moment for you and I swear it was a nightmare for me, but then I realized that at least I had you there, egoistical or not, I made my nightmare into a dream.’’ You aren't sure which opinion Dean would have on that. Would he understand? Would he shake his head? You wish you can ask him just this one more thing, just beg him to write it down for you on how to be without him here.

You raise on your feet, glaring at the name craved in the concrete. The tears go by still, although they're as usual as the blood in glir veins at this point. ‘’Death is so silly. What it takes, anyway?" Each word conquers more inches of pure wrath. ''People die because they stumbled on their own feet and hit their head somewhere, or they drove their car too close and too fast to the cliff, or because they were giving birth, or because they dated the wrong person, or because they were hunting a fucking vampire and got impaled. What are the chances? How stupid, and idiotic is death? Always creeping and waiting to bite and chew a piece of you-- Taking every scrap of you from me like that’s its right.’’ You are screaming, starting to kick and punch the tombstone with any piece of straight you have. Your limbs hurt and the blood is visible, but you keep going. ‘’YOUR STUPID DOG DIED, DEAN! AND YOU DIED! AND I DIED! SAMMY DIED! YEAH, IS SAID SAMMY! GO AHEAD, TELL ME ONLY YOU CAN CALL HIM THAT.’’ Another punch, your knuckles are ripped. Another kick, your boot as a hole. ‘’DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.’’ Kick. ‘’SAMMY, SAMMY, SAMMY!’’ A punch to each name. Anything to get a reaction, to get comfort. Anything. ‘’YOU CAN’T BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.’’ Gasping for something you don't need anymore, sweet oxygen, your eyes are on the tombstone again. And the definitions. And the trees. Your body is sore and aching. It is the kind and coercion no person wants which you needed; the freedom of feeling outside the exact pain that was inside. ‘’You can’t because you are dead. I’ve been playing some sick games in my mind, you know? Sam stopped hunting and had his closure. He was always better at letting go than you and I, but he’s still hurting. I never saw him hurting so much. I think he knows you won’t come back this time, how could you make us promise something like that?  Well, my twisted game is a bunch of misleading what ifs. What if you hadn’t gone after John? What if you hadn’t gone on that last hunt? What if you had stayed with Lisa? At first I didn’t like her much. Jealous, I admit that. But she grew on me. She gave you something I couldn’t back then and I’ll always be thankful for that. And even though it would rip me apart, I’d rather you to die at sixth after living your suburban dream with her. Have another kid besides Ben, maybe a girl this time, and just have that apple pie life. You and Sam would live close and your kids would always play. They’d be as close as brothers. Maybe I’d get a guy and bring my own kids and we could’ve a barbecue and everyone would be happy. But we don’t get soft epilogues here. It ends how it starts, right? Bloody and desperate. I thought maybe, maybe Lisa could understand what’s going through my head now. I drove to her new address and parked close to her house. I must have spent hours there, thinking if I should come in or not, If she somehow remembered after Castiel died or if I could make her brain work again if I told her the truth. But then I just drove back home and fell asleep wrapped in that stupid lumberjack flannel of yours. The one I always mocked, yeah? She may understand me, but I know you wouldn’t want that. You want her, you want me and Sam to be happy. I don’t know if I can do that, Dean. It’s like myt brittle soul shrewd and my body is just waiting to collapse.’’ You signed, overwhelmed by the battle without an anthem. The victory with no triumph. Is it still a win when you don't have someone to come home too? ‘’Your dog died, it’s the first birthday you didn’t live to see, and I bought all the things you told Mrs Butters you wanted for your birthday because it’s your birthday. I just don’t know how to celebrate it with you dead. People stop counting after they die, right? They just say he’d have been 42 or he died at 41. They give melancholy smiles when they wake up and check the day on their phones and a woe atmosphere swallows them for the rest of the day. Then they get better the next day. I think everyday is your birthday.’’ You attempt to wipe away your tears, which only causes your pulsating hand to stain your face red. ‘’Dean, for the first time, what died stayed dead! Congrats.’’ Once again, a hysterical laugh. ‘’I wish but no. What died didn’t stay dead, you are alive, so alive in my head. I swear you are there some days. I wake and watch the door, so sure you’ll come back. Sam says I’m living in delusion and I have to wake up and keep going since that's what you would want. That's enough to make him keep going, but it only makes me angry. Everyone we know and some strangers looks at me like I'm a house on fire and no longer a warm home, like I'm a car accident. They think I don't notice but I do.’’ You look at your boots, the whole is rolling out blood like your hands. You feel closer to Dean. How sick.

‘’Help, I’m still right where you left me." You plea, his love lingering like a bruise. ''I think gravity is overwhelming and it keeps me here. Sometimes it’s like I’m one of those dusted books Sam used to read. Or those Bukowski ones that you hid, so we wouldn’t see how smart you’re. You tried so hard to hide your intelligence because you didn’t think you were entitled to it. You saw yourself as the protector and never the valuable one for protection. You, the man who made an EMF out of an old radio, who rebuilt the Impala from the ground multiple times, and who knew patterns better than any detective. The man who showed me I could rely on someone other than myself. The dude with a lopsided grin, tough hands and a heart of gold. I miss you so much. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing all those classic rock songs and Taylor Swift pop hits, while I drove here. I would think you were home, smelling like guts because you wanted to eat before taking a shower after a hunt. I would think that you are in the Deancave, waiting for me to curl up on your lap to watch Scooby Doo or Doctor Sexy MD until we aren’t watching anymore. If I didn’t know better I would think no death could take you from me. There would be no tear us apart in our vows.’’ The only thing that keeps your organism working is that Dean died knowing how much you loved him. You never let this talk for later or never. No tomorrow is promised. That's a nice comfort, maybe that's what will help you to let go in the future. ‘’But yesterday your stupid, skink dog died and I lost the last living thing that I had from you. You know what’s more angerting? I cried and Sam cried and I noticed we were the living things you left behind and all we have is each other. All your closets of backlogged dreams were left for us-- so yeah. Sam is done hunting and he’s met a lovely girl, and they are moving in like in your domestic dreams. I’m taking care of the family business like your other contradictory dream and making sure Sam is safe enough to be normal. Because I have to, we have too. Stupidly enough, I still wait for the day you’ll burst out the door and tell us to hit the road again. I still watch every episode of your dumb tv shows to make sure I’ll know everything that happened when you ask. I still drive around in your car and close my eyes when the street is calm, only picturing you driving as Baby’s engineers go wild but those are my hands on the steering wheel. If I didn't know better, I’d think you are still around. But I know better. I still feel you all around. I love you.’’

Your monologuing ends as astutely as it stated. You get up, press a kiss to your ruined for the next weeks hands and place it on the rock with writings. You turn around and walk back to the car that you parked near, only in case of Dean wanting to see Baby. How knows? You and your clandestine faith. You lick your lip and get in the car.

You swear you the AC/DC cassette wasn't there before, but when you turn on the car and the radio it starts playing. It's the first true smile that comes to your mouth, it's bloodstained and you look like a shameless woman. With that you can deal.

It hurts a bearable hurt for now. You didn't think it was possible. Maybe someday.

The end.

(she takes a little longer to arive in heaven than sammy. his baby brother says that women are most likely to live around six years more than men. it doesn't ease him up, though. dean waited sam for too long, his platonic soulmate. and now he has to wait his romantic one too? the eldest Winchester considers it the best earthly present when the he sense you around, that smell of orange and apples. it's you, he knows before even turning around. he can't wait to love you again. your name rolls off your tongue so naturally, as if you had seen each other just yesterday: ‘’hey, y/n.’’)

But then again, nothing ever really ends, does it?

REBLOG AND COMMENT. Feedback is magic and helps me!

Starburst's footnote: It just didn't feel right to make an author's note on the top. I wanted it all only to be an arrow to the story. So, this is my side note: it's six am and I'm up writing this after inspiration kissed me with a bruise in the middle of the night. Or more like grabbed my throat. Anyway, I had to write and finish this one to post today, even pushing sleep aside. Hey, we are writers, that's what we do! I've been watching the show since I was eleven and I cried like a baby with the finale. This series was just so important and crucial to molde aspects of relationships for me. The song marjorie by Taylor Swift was used here, and so was the line "you got my devotion/ but man, I can hate you sometimes" by Harry Styles. I told you guys I would use it somewhere! A special thanks to @msmarvelouswinchester​ who helped me with her encouraging and opinon. You are the best! And with all of this I wanna say: Happy bday, Dean Winchester!

REBLOG AND COMMENT! Feedback is magic! Especially about this fic, I’d like to know your opinion. Tags in the reblog! Send an ask or dm to get in the taglist.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 3

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

Word Count: Ch 3 - 1637

In case you missed it: Chapter 2 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 3

One month is not enough time to get used to nights in the bunker, she thinks as she stares at the back of Dean’s door. It’s too sterile, too unnatural, with the quiet permeating every crevice and recess.

There must be some sort of muffling spell or noise cancellation technology… or maybe just really good insulation. She’s used to the chatter of customers, the ding of the door chime, the clatter of plates, and the sloshing of the dishwasher. She’s never had to listen to herself think this much before, and she freely admits she is not a fan.

It’s been about four hours since Dean stormed out. “I’m done,” he said, but she doubts she’ll have to wait much longer. Those last words he shouted before Castiel came in, the way he gripped her and she had to force herself not to cling right back, tells her they aren’t finished, either with their argument or each other.

Muffled footsteps, the only sound besides her heart beat and non-stop internal monologue, let her know moments before the doorknob turns that Dean is back. The door swings open, not with the angry force she’s expecting, but with the same weary resignation that bows his shoulders as he steps into his room and shrugs off his jacket.

His eyes meet hers for an eternity, then he deliberately takes two more steps forward and closes the door firmly behind him.

She’s in his arms without a moment’s hesitation, her mouth on his, devouring him with every bit of desperation she possesses. He tastes of scotch, and she can picture him sitting despondently at the local watering hole, glaring balefully at a single glass of liquor for hours.

His arms constrict automatically until she’s equally breathless from his embrace as she is from the kiss. Just when she thinks he may have to physically hold her up, Dean pulls away just far enough to stare hard into her eyes, his expression daring her to challenge his next words.

“We are not done talking. You are going to tell me every detail of your deal, whether you like it or not. And don’t think for a second I’m going to let you go through with it. Choices be damned, Andy, this isn’t just about you anymore, and you know it.”

She refrains from telling him how much of a dad vibe he’s giving off as she shoves his flannel from his shoulders and pulls his face back to hers, clenching a handful of his t-shirt in a death grip.

Neither of them is gentle as they remove clothing and stagger their way to his bed; she knows they don’t have the time to be, and he suspects as much but doesn’t say so aloud. Neither is willing to ruin their precious remaining moments together by bringing up something as distasteful as reality. Nails score flesh, fingers bruise limbs, even their lips come away with faint traces of blood from accidental clashes with teeth.

“How long?” he rasps, his lips ghosting over her sternum. Her nails dredge shallow furrows across the backs of his thighs as he pulls back before thrusting hard, driving her into his mattress. “How long have we got?”

She tugs his mouth down to her breast, hissing as his teeth scrape and tug. Her fingers thread into his hair, holding him in place, silently willing him to let the subject go. She can’t answer him. She’s had a month with him, and while she’d rather have something closer to a lifetime, all she’s asking now is two more uninterrupted, untainted hours.

If she tells him, then the shortness of their time becomes real, everything becomes devastatingly real. Here in the bunker that is far too quiet for her own peace of mind, she can pretend the outside world and all it’s insane occultists and apocalypses and demons and deals don’t exist. She can pretend it’s just her and Dean, and nothing else bad is waiting on the other side of the horizon.

And he’d try to stop her. And probably succeed. So, no. She can’t tell him.

It’s some time before both of them are sated enough to lie relatively still. She keeps her back to him, knowing if she looks in his eyes she is liable to spill every bit of information she has left, and she does not want a repeat of the scene from earlier. Once was more than enough.

“I’m waiting, Andy.”

We all have to learn to live with disappointment, hun, she thinks. Aloud, she sighs and pushes herself back until her shoulder blades press against his chest. She’s been cold since they first brought her to the bunker, and his warmth is almost enough to make her forget that she’s chilled to her marrow. She shivers, forcing a partition up in her mind to keep out thoughts of her impending departure. She’s going to wait until he’s asleep, then head out to make the last rendezvous.

Sunrise, Dean, she thinks, despite her best efforts. I’ve got til sunrise. We’ve got less than that.

Luckily, she’s had enough caffeine to give a draft horse the shakes, and he’s running on three hours sleep for the last couple of days, so he should pass out pretty soon. The last thing she needs is the infamous Winchester Interference with her plans.

With the confidence that comes from knowing she’s right at the end of everything, Andy rolls over and pulls Dean’s head down so his cheek rests between her breasts, cradling him like a child and stroking his hair just as she’s longed to do since he strolled into her diner and winked at her over a stack of pancakes. He doesn’t protest, doesn’t even pretend to resist, instead nuzzling deeper in her embrace, and that’s when she really knows she’s wounded him far more deeply than she should have been capable.

“It was only supposed to be a fling,” she remarks to the top of his head as she runs her nails over the base of his skull. He shivers, pulling the blanket over them up to his chin and sliding his arms around her waist. His shoulder lies on her stomach, its weight sitting comfortably against her belly. “The first time I met you, you declared your love for me because I brought you bacon, for God’s sake. At four in the afternoon. You were supposed to be a good time, Dean, one good night, and then ride on out of town like a good boy.”

“You’d already be dead if you hadn’t given me your number,” he points out. For once, his lascivious nature is dormant, and he doesn’t so much as sneak a stray lick or grope, despite his optimal position. She strokes her thumb down the side of his jaw, scrubbing over several days’ worth of stubble that covers his cheeks. He turns his face into her touch, sliding his nose against the sensitive skin under her breast, and then it’s her turn to shiver.

“Andy, before you do anything stupid, anything else stupid, I need to tell you...I need you to know that I...”

“No, you don’t,” she chides, cutting him off before he can choke out any more ill-advised words. She can’t hear them right now, they would break down every barrier and barricade she’s constructed to hold herself together for these last hours. And, anyway, he can’t possibly mean them. They barely know each other. “But you could. I think both of us might have, eventually. So, we have that, at least.”

Her ribs creak at the sudden tightening of his grip, and she squirms until he relents enough to allow her breathing to return to normal.

“It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

His words end on something that she would never in a thousand years tell him sounds like a crack. She silently strokes the velvety hairs on the back of his neck, waiting for him to finish clearing his throat.

“Don’t try to be the hero; it never works out for anyone involved, even the people you’re trying to save.”

“Don’t start with me, Dean Winchester. Here we are, having a nice moment, and I will not let you ruin the time we have left with arbitrary things like depth and honesty.”

The air system hisses soothingly in the background, but she won’t let herself be soothed. This time left is for him, she’s not fooling herself about that any longer. What does she have left but Dean, anyway? She’s got three, four hours left at the most, and this is how she chooses to spend them.

She rolls once more, pulling Dean underneath her until she lies atop him, flush from collarbone to ankles. He watches her, his face soft and open for once, golden and warm in the dim light of the little bedside lamp. His hands move slowly, reverently, to glide over the curve of her jaw and mouth, and she can feel the faint tremors that run through his hands. She kisses his fingers one at a time before lifting her eyes to his.

“No, you don’t,” she repeats, “But you could.” The world needs the Winchesters around a hell of a lot more than it needs her. And while she might make people happy, saving people and hunting things is the Winchesters’ family business. This is her only chance to make sure they and the world stick around long enough for that to keep happening. ...

Chapter 4

[bruh--wtf]

Trust Issues

Masterlist

Part 2

Previous Next

Stiles Stilinksi x Reader

Later, at home, you hear a knock on your brother's window while he's at work and go into his room. You see Stiles and raise an eyebrow as you open the window. "Can you come with me?" He asks. You freeze.

"What?"

"Can you come to my house, like now?"

"You have my number, Stiles," you say.

"Would you have agreed?" You clench your jaw and shake your head.

"No," you say.

He smirks. "Exactly. Now come on," he says. You close the window and he hits it as you grab your jacket and go downstairs.

"Stiles!" You yell. He turns to you and smiles as he climbs down.

"Alright, now come on," he says, grabbing your arm and pulling you to his prized jeep. You sigh and sit next to him.

"What's this about?" You ask. "Scott isn't even here, so-"

"Just shut up," he says. You look at the boy surprised.

Stiles drives to his house and when you try to get out he locks the door.

"My dad's home," he says. You nod.

"Okay? And?" He turns to look at you.

"Well, he might assume something because I've never actually had a girl over. Well not in a long time," he says.

"I've been here before, Stiles," you say. He nods.

"Yeah, but with Scott," he says. You sigh and sit back.

"So do you want me to wait here, or...?"

"No! No. Ugh, fine, come on," he says, unlocking the door and letting you out. You get out of the car and go up to the house. Sheriff Stilinksi was at the door ready to yell at Stiles when you walk in first.

He freezes and looks at Stiles. "Uh, Y/N, what are you doing here?"

"I have no idea," you say honestly. He gives his son a confused look. Stiles sighs and grabs your wrist.

"Y/N and I have a project together. We need to work on it," he says to his dad. His dad nods and waves the two of you off. Stiles pulls you to his room and you laugh a little.

"Okay, what is going on?" You ask. He barely looks at you and you look around his room. It was more organized than you thought it would be. Granted, you hadn't been in the room in years. You sit on the boy's bed as he brings his laptop over to you. He sits with his back to the headboard and you sit beside him.

You sat close to him to look at the laptop. You look up at him as soon as you see what's on it.

"You can't be serious," you say. He sighs and points at the screen.

"Just hold on, it makes sense." You press your lips together, and put your head on the boy's shoulder to read what was on the screen.

The more and more he explained his theory the more it made sense.

"Were you kidding earlier? When you said Friday is a full moon?" You ask. He shakes his head. "Well, what's gonna happen to Scott?" He presses his lips together and shakes his head.

"I don't really know. But I'm gonna help him," he says, looking at his laptop again, probably looking something up. You just studied the boy for probably to long. He looked at you again, looking over your face.

You quickly shift your head to look at the laptop again, curling up, closer to the boy. He looked at you for a moment.

"Are you cold?" He asks. You give him a small smile.

"I'm fine," you say, holding onto his arm. He nods and the two of you continue researching. "Stiles?" It'd been at least an hour.

He hums in response.

"Were you talking about me this morning?" You ask. He looks at you.

"What?"

"I mean, I heard you and Scott say something before you know he pulled me over," you tell him. He shifts a little.

"Oh, uh, yeah." You look up at the boy to see him uncomfortably avoiding looking at you.

"If you don't want to tell me, that's fine," you say. No. No it isn't fine. Stiles was talking about you and you want to know why.

Wait. Stiles and Scott. It wasn't just Stiles. Well, from Scott's reaction, it kind of was jist Stiles.

"Um, no, I was just you know, saying how crazy the body thing was. And well, that's the craziest thing to happen since you were born." You hit the boy's chest.

"I'm not crazy," you say. He chuckles.

"I disagree," he says. You roll your eyes. "But in a good way," he adds. He smirks at you and a small smile plays at your lips. You hold onto his arm a little tighter, looking back at the screen. "Crazy... and the best thing to happen to this town." Your gaze snaps back up to him. He looked a little nervous about your reaction. You studied the boy for a second.

"You really think that?" You find yourself asking in a whisper tone. He nods.

"Yeah. I do," he says. You press your lips together. What do you say to that? And why did it give you butterflies in your stomach hearing it from Stiles? That scared you. You just stared at him for a minute before turning your head back down.

"Thanks," you mumble, trying to hide your blush. And the small smile creeping on your lips.

Eventually it gets late and you grow tired. You shift a little, laying down a little more, still holding onto Stiles arm. He looks at you and then the time.

"I can bring you home if you want," he tells you. You chuckle and look at the time to see how late it is. 12:30. You shake your head, turning a little more towards the boy.

"I've gone to parties with Lydia, Stiles. I'm fine," you say jokingly. He studies you for a moment before continuing. It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep though.

Stiles looks down at her, realizing something and sees Y/N asleep on his arm. He lets out a breath, looking down at his laptop. He carefully closes the laptop, not wanting to wake Y/N up. He moves it.

Then, he pulls his arm away from Y/N slowly. She adjusts and snuggles up to the boy's chest. He was a bit unsure if he should wake her up or not.

"You're going to be the death of me," he whispers. He carefully shifts to be laying down and she buries her face further into his chest. He wraps his arms around her, and reaches up to turn his light out.

The next day, you wake up in Stiles' arms. You shift a little, confused. Stiles was heavily asleep, and still had an arm around you. You look around a little and your eyes land on your phone.

You grab it, and see that it was a little past seven. You quickly sit up.

"Shit," you say, putting your phone down.

You shake Stiles a little, and the boy rolls over, groaning. You sigh pushing the boy back over.

"Stiles, we're going to be late. And I need to go home and change. Stiles!" He waves you off and you huff. You climb over the boy and pull him out of the bed. He groans as he lands on the floor.

"Really?!"

"We're going to be late! Get dressed!" You say. He gives you a confused look and grabs your phone, checking the time as he hands it to you.

You walk out into the hallway and hear shuffling.

A few minutes later Stiles stumbles out with new jeans on and a half buttoned flannel.

You follow him out to his car and youu stop by your house. You change and grab your backpack.

When you get to school Stiles immediately runs up to Scott.

But Jackson stops you.

"What's up with your brother?" Jackson asks.

You raise an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Scott can't play for shit. Him, and his little friend, are losers. So what happened?" You knew your brother and Stiles weren't popular. Or good at Lacrosse up until yesterday. But Jackson being the one to point it out ticked you off.

You slap the boy.

"Just because Scott's a better player than you, doesn't mean you get to be an asshole. Don't talk about my brother or his friends like that again, you hear me?" Jackson scoffs and smirks at you, taking a step closer to you.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll do a hell of alot worse than slap you," you snap. You push past the boy, going towards your first class.

Later, in the hall, you see Jackson and Scott.

"My mom does all the grocery shopping," Scott says. Jackson had him pinned against the wall. You march up to them. You push Jackson back, glaring at him.

"What did I say about talking to my brother?" You say. He smirks.

"You said talking about your brother, nothing about talking to him," he says. You glare at him. "You know he's on steroids, right? Imagine what coach will think."

You punch Jackson. He puts a hand to his nose and you see a bit of blood start to drip down.

"You don't know shit, Jackson. You're a complete idiot. And if you actually like Lydia, you're not going to say anything," you say. He glares at you, knowing if you said anything to Lydia she'd talk to him.

He glares at Scott. "Y/N won't be around all the time, McCall," he says. You scoff and push him.

"You're all talk," you say. He glares at the two of you and walks off.

You find out Scott is going to the party with Allison and nearly scream at him.

You were happy a girl finally liked your brother, but yeah. No.

Friday night you go to the party.

You were sitting there, watching your brother have fun, avoiding looking at Lydia and Jackson practically having sex infront of everyone, and being by yourself. When you see Derek. You walk up to him.

"What the hell do you want from my brother?" You ask. He smirks at you.

"Our brother now," he says. You scoff and shake your head.

"No. He is my brother. You don't know him. And I don't know why you did what you did, but I know that I'm more scared of a puppy than I am of you," you say. His eyes turn a sort of yellow shade and your eyes widen.

"Are you sure about that?" He asks. You swallow.

"Positive. Is that like an anger thing? Should I be looking forward to seeing Scott doing that when I piss him off from now on?" He grabs your wrist and you try your best not to wince.

"You'll see. I only want the best for Scott. He needs me. He however, doesn't need you or your little boyfriend," he says.

"I don't know who your talking about, because I'm single. But Scott does need me. And I'm going to be right there when he realizes it," you say. He smirks.

"You'll see," he says. He lets go of you and you look down at your wrist to see that it's red.

"If this bruises I'll find you and punch you," you tell him. He chuckles.

"You'll be fun," he says. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he just walks somewhere else in the party.

To say running between your house, Allison's house to make sure she's alive, and looking for Scott all night in the woods in detail is alot. But you get the gist.

After school you see Scott talking to Allison and smiles, which is a good sigh.

You feel a hand on your wrist and you get pulled into a corner.

"Oh my God, Stiles! I'm going to kill you!" You say, hitting the boy's chest. He chuckles and shakes his head.

"Last night was... crazy," he says. You nod in agreement. Then you realize who is against the wall. And you realize that he has his hands on your hips still. And you realize the way he's looking at you.

You smirk at the boy. You lean up and kiss his cheek. He looks down at you in shock.

"I'll see you later, Stiles."

You start walking towards Lydia's car, seeing as she usually was the one to drive you to and from school.

Once you get in the car, you look over at your brother who looked like a deer at headlights looking at Allison's car.

[shapa-likes-art]

Chapter two: Roman Molina

Warnings: Death of a family member, cursing/swearing, crying. Tell me to put more warnings if needed.

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety and Intrulogical

Summary: Roman Molina, a 16-year-old student from Los Feliz high, lost his love for music after his mom died last year. His only one chance of keeping his spot in the music program is to play music and sing, problem is; it reminds him of his mom.

A/N: And here is another chapter for the Jatp au! You’re finally introduced to Roman after, what, a month? Sorry, haha, It’s not easy for me to write and art at the same time, but I hope you enjoy!

First | Previous | Next

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It was the 10th of September, 2020. The bells rang signaling, the dismissal of all classes and signified the end of a school day. Amid a crowd of many bustling students in the halls of Los Feliz

High school, was a Teen making his way down the crowded hallway to his locker. 

Said teen had tan skin, curly dark Auburn hair that was covered and pressed down by a red baseball cap. He wore Red flannel over a mostly white and blue accented crop-top with high-waisted denim jeans, he had many bracelets around his wrist and two necklaces around his neck, they were both gold in color. One hanged from his neck that seemed to be a locket while one that was flush against his neck as if a choker it spelled out the name "Roman"

He clutched the binder full of notes close to his chest as he scrunched up and avoided the people he passed. Only when he reached a blue locker that had a red "R" stickered on that he seemed to relax. He

quickly unlocked the locker and went to put his things away.

"Hey, underachiever!" a familiar voice greeted.

Roman smiled, "Hey Disappointment," he greeted back with a small laugh. He turned to Remy, his best friend, with a small smile.

Remy was about an inch taller than Roman and had warm sepia brown skin, his braided dark hair pulled back into a bun, he wore a holo windbreaker jacket on with a dark grey shirt, a rainbow bead choker, a gold necklace with a lock, and two earrings from left to right reading “what” and “ever”

He had a smirk on his face as he looked at Roman through his shades

"Ok, Hun, I know you don't want me to ask-"

"Rem.."

"- But have you figured out what you're going to do today?" Remy continued with a small huff.

Roman sighed, "I know in the moment,"

"Seriously, Ro?" Remy said, going to bring his shades up to rest on his head, his chocolate brown eyes staring into Roman's hazel, "That's all you're giving me? Miss Harrison said that today is your last chance!"

Roman just offered a smile, "I know. I was there,"

Remy sighed, throwing his hands up and putting his shades back on.

"I'll see you at the rally!" An overly sweet and chipper voice said from only just a few steps away.

Remy looked over to see Percy, "Ugh, what is he handing out?" He said with an eye roll, watching as said person handed out a flyer with a sickly sweet and fake smile. He talked as if emulating a heart at the end of the sentence.

Roman went to look over as well, huffing slightly, "Hm, desperation?" He offered.

Remy let out a small huff of laughter before the exact person they were talking about approached. Percy still had that same fake smile as he took a couple of flyers and gave them to Remy and Roman.

"Here you go, My group's performing at the group rally tomorrow!" He said. He looked up and down both teens and smiled even sweeter, "I'm sure you have nothing better to do."

Remy mimicked Percy's smile, "Oh my gosh, Percy, thanks! " He said sarcastically using the same overly peppy tone, mocking him.

"Oh my gosh, Remy! don't bother coming!" Percy shot back, still keeping his overly peppy attitude. He went to turn away and back to giving out flyers, leaving a stunned Remy.

Remy scoffed, his eyes still trained on Percy as he crumpled up the flyer.

Roman, however, couldn't care less, leaning against the door of the open locker as he stared at someone by the pillar with a dopy and lovesick look in his eyes.

Remy Let out a small frustrated sigh, glancing to Roman before doing a double-take once he saw just who exactly Roman was looking at.

"Really, Ro?" He asked, crossing his arms, "Thomas, still? " Remy looked to said teen then to Percy,

"You know they're gonna get married and raise a bunch of unholy babies," he huffed

"Thomas is a sweetheart!" Roman defended with a pout, clutching the binder to his chest

Remy raised an eyebrow, "You'd actually have to talk to him to know that, Hun," he said. Roman just rolled his eyes.

"And only one of them has to be a demon to make a demon baby," Remy continued, looking over to Percy, "Demon! " He shouted quickly, pulling Roman with him to hide immediately, their backs turned to Percy as they faced their lockers, smothering their laughs and hiding

from Percy as his eyes snapped over to them with an offended glare.

Roman smiled, turning back to Remy after a few seconds

"There's that dazzling smile," Remy cooed, "now, let's go prove everybody wrong,"

.

An electric guitar solo sounded through the halls, reverberating from the music room where the music program was held.

Thomas carefully plucked and strummed the strings of his sky blue electric guitar, the whole room

silent as they watched his performance, almost captivated by each note he played. He finished up with the last few chords and the room erupted with applause from the other students, which among them were Percy, Remy, and Roman. 

“Nice job, Thomas,” Miss Harrison said with a smile, “Almost as impressive as your game against Glendale,”

Thomas gave a small smile, “Uh, stings a bit, but thanks,” he said with a small awkward smile, going to take the guitar off and put it away.

Miss Harrison smiled as she turned to the students seated around the “stage”, which was just the free floor space, her eyes looking through the many people as if searching for someone,  “Alright,” she started with a small clap, “We have one last performance for today.”

Wordlessly, each student’s eyes drifted over to a person seated nearly in the back.

“Roman?” Miss Harrison called out, gesturing to him.

Roman tensed and he slowly looked up to the teacher, nervous. Miss Harrison nodded, smiling sympathetically. He clenched onto his binder of sheet music and stood up, going to take off his hat and set it down onto his seat before walking towards the grand piano that was tucked away to the side of the room.  Thomas passed by him and tried to give a reassuring smile to Roman as he walked back to his seat. Despite this, it did nothing to calm Roman’s fears.

Roman sat down and set up the sheet music and let out a heavy shuddering sigh. He looked to Miss Harrison, almost asking if he could go back. 

“It’s ok, take your time,” Miss Harrison tried to reassure, smiling softly.

Roman looked down to the case and went to open it, revealing the achingly familiar white and black keys. His hands hovered over the keys, staying there suspended in air in hesitance. All he could think about was how he used to sit next to his mother on the piano when she was still alive, when they used to play together and write songs. He missed the comforting smile she used to give him when he figured out a chord progression to put into their song, her warm laugh when he showed her what silly lyrics he had scribbled down in boredom, her soothing voice humming small melodies and mumbling lyrics… It was almost too much.

Roman’s hands shook as his mind kept reminding him of what he’d never be able to see again. He quickly shut the case and stood up, “I’m sorry,” he said, looking to Miss Harrison.

Remy’s brows furrowed in concern, immediately standing up. He didn’t like what was happening. Percy, who had been sitting right in front of Remy raised a hand, “Is this where we clap?” he asked, playing dumb

Roman’s jaw clenched and he immediately set off for the door, leaving the room entirely silent.

Remy glared at Percy, “Watch it, Percy,” he snapped, brushing past the teen, and ran after Roman, out of the room and down the halls. 

By God, he won't let Roman waste his life away and waste his opportunities like this any longer.  He soon caught up with Roman, narrowly missing him as he walked down the steps of the stairs in haste. Remy took in a few deep breaths, catching his breath.

"Roman," he said firmly, making said teen freeze and turn around, his head to the ground. Remy held up and hand and went to place his shades atop his head.

"Hun, you better get back up here," he said, looking at Roman with furrowed eyebrows, "And show them you can sing!" He said, pointing back to the music room, "That you deserve to be there and that you can still do it. That you still haven't lost the only other thing that you love,"

Roman shook his head, taking in a shaky breath as he fiddled with the strings of his bracelet, "Remy, I- I've tried for myself," he said, finally looking up to Remy, eyes were red and teary, "I've tried for Miss. Harrison, I've tried for my dad," he ran his hand through his hair, "And I've fucking tried for Mom,"

Remy stood there, stunned and filled with guilt as he listened.

Roman let out a small sad laugh, "For the whole year, I've been trying," he just gave a small teary smile, "But I can't do this anymore. I just can't. I'm done with this, Remy," he said. Roman let out a sigh and went to turn back to walking down the stairs, having nothing left to say but just that.

Remy felt a bit of panic spike, "Roman." He said, "Roman!" He called out, but he just ran down to his locker. 

Remy shakily went to sit down on a step of the stairs, curled up into himself as he watched his best friend take his bag and ran out the doors. He tried to blink away the tears that formed in his eyes. He just wanted to help.

[sign-from-god-complex]

Self-Control

Summary: The sound of footsteps pad across the landing above and though Virgil has come all this way he’s suddenly struck with the feeling that he’s not ready. It’s been 15 years since they’ve seen each other—so much can change in 15 years; so much has changed in 15 years.

Though, maybe things haven’t changed quite as much as Virgil thinks.

(AKA, a past-punk moxiety AU)

Pairing: Moxiety!

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smoking, homophobia and nondescript injury. Vague allusions to past abuse (or at least mentions of terrible parental figures). Brief discussion of a parental figure having died.

AO3 Link

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It isn’t at all the place Virgil imagined for him. The flower pots all sit in a row on the steps, red ivy climbing up the fence like spider webs and a garden hose curled up on a perfectly manicured front lawn. Everything about it is picturesque—almost to the point of insanity—and as a butterfly floats by and lands delicately on a ladder leaning onto the fence from the backyard, Virgil wonders what in the world could have changed Patton so drastically to have led to this.

There’s an image, in his head, of teenage rebellion—of 2 am milkshakes and stolen bicycles, of broken glass and laughter, so much laughter, as they took advantage of what time they had left to live. It doesn’t fit in with this pastel blue sky in this pastel blue neighbourhood full of pastel blue people but he knew that it wouldn’t. He knew things would be different.

Though, that doesn’t make it all that much easier to comprehend.

Vaguely, Virgil hears the sound of excited squeals coming from the yard and he ducks his head over the fence just a bit, catching sight of a young girl flying off of a trampoline at a hundred miles an hour—hair a mess and grin bright.

The kid must be Patton’s—it’s unmistakable, that dark skin and reckless look, like she’s ready to take the world on at any moment—and Virgil can’t help but remember the nights the two of them spent drinking and talking and vowing to never tie themselves down to anyone or anything. 

He supposes no one really does know what they want when they’re young.

It takes Virgil a while to gather up the courage to knock—he’s all too aware of his leather jacket and patches, his dyed hair and piercings. He couldn’t feel more out of place in this suburban neighbourhood and he hadn’t thought that around Patton he could ever feel out of place.

In the end, though, the choice is taken out of his hands. The young girl throws open the door, clearly looking to haul ass across the street to the park—the kind of place he and Pat would have smoked, once upon a time—but is stopped short as she notices Virgil standing in her way. There’s a moment where he’s afraid she’s going to scream or cry or something else he would have no clue how to deal with but instead, she just grins cheekily.

“Dad!” she yells, barely turning her head to face the soft white interior of the house, “There’s a man here for you!”

The sound of footsteps pad across the landing above and for a moment Virgil is so afraid that he’s gotten the wrong house or that Patton won’t want to see him and though he’s come all this way he’s struck with the feeling that he’s not ready. It’s been 15 years since they’ve seen each other; so much can change in 15 years.

“Riley, what do you mean? What ma-”

And then, there he is.

His face is void of any of the makeup he used to wear, his hair faded from turquoise to its natural black and left curly in a way he wouldn’t have been caught dead with once. And, over the top of a graphic t-shirt displaying some characters Virgil doesn’t recognise and unripped light-wash jeans, Patton had thrown a familiar blue flannel.

Virgil remembers that flannel, worn under heavy coats to help fight the evening windchill, tied around Patton’s waist as they scaled fences just to see if they could and left in a pile on the floor in his room as they finally escaped back to comfort and warmth. Honestly, he’s just surprised it still fits.

Patton does nothing but stare at him for a moment, his lips parted in shock and his eyes big and wide and god, looking at him now is like falling in love all over again.

“Virge?” he breathes, a melody of disbelief in his voice. Virgil can’t exactly blame him—it isn’t as if he’s someone Patton was expecting to see.

Virgil rubs over the fabric of his jacket, a nervous tick he’d had even back then. “Hey, uh… surprise?”

And in an instant, has Patton pitched forward right into his arms. Virgil catches him—of course, he catches him, he’ll always catch him—and Patton laughs, displaying some level of joy Virgil hadn’t known he’d needed to hear until now. He can feel Patton breathing against his neck as they hold each other and, distantly, the sound of light footsteps echoes away and up the stairs.

They pull apart, eventually, the separation like trying to peel a sticker off of a concrete wall—the easiest kind of graffiti to enact while still being tricky to remove. The distance Patton puts between them seems almost reluctant and Virgil wishes he had the courage to tell him to stay.

“What are you doing here?” Patton asks. It’s soft, like the white fuzzy carpet of his new home and Virgil realises suddenly he’d been so caught up in him that he’d forgotten that this him wasn’t the same.

Patton had always been soft but not soft like this. He’d been soft in redirected conversation and distractions, in Virgil’s favourite TV show on in the background and stolen chocolate bars in his pocket, guiding hands mimicking steady breathing. This Patton seems soft around the edges—worn down, almost—and Virgil feels those 15 years as more of a lifetime.

He doesn’t answer the question—truthfully because he’s not sure how, not sure where to start with the mess of events and near-misses and regrets that finally brought him here to Patton’s doorstep—and instead replies with one of his own. 

“My mom died. Did you know that?” It’s a stupid thing to ask, they hadn’t spoken to each other in 15 years, there was no way he could have known. Virgil asks it all the same though. “I have her money now. Didn’t write me out of the will even after everything we went through. Guess she didn’t want how much she hated me and my “lifestyle” to come out even after she’d kicked it.”

Patton just looks at him. There’s something sad in his eyes, maybe, something regretful or sympathetic, something holding years worth of apologies and love confessions in not so many words that every night they'd pretended they hadn’t said.

Maybe not, he isn’t sure. He’s never been very good with stuff like that. 

“You owe me a party,” Virgil continues impulsively. Patton grins and shakes his head and the urge to kiss him is so strong for a moment Virgil can’t breathe. “You promised me when she was dead and I didn’t have to worry about her anymore we’d have a party. With cheerio sausages and expensive liquor and-”

“Sparkling juice and bad karaoke,” Patton interrupts, “I remember.”

Nobody speaks. Patton doesn’t invite him in and Virgil doesn’t ask for fear of being turned away. 

He knows there’s an element of worship in the way he looks at Patton. It’s worship like the way farmers pray for rain in a drought, worship like how sailors are drawn to the rough turn of the sea and worship like teens relishing in the night when they’re bored and alone and angry, yearning for freedom that only comes in years they feel they don’t have left.

But now, dark eyes gazing at him and breath catching in his throat, Virgil thinks maybe he isn’t the only one who feels it.

“I have a kid now, you know?” Patton asks and Virgil knows instantly that question isn’t about the party but everything that comes after it—all of the hundreds of possibilities that stem from this decision that neither of them can quite voice out loud, “Single parent. I made a lot of bad choices in those 15 years—gave myself away to a few people who didn’t deserve it, maybe—but she’s… helped. I want to be better for her.”

Virgil nods. It’s a little hard to reconcile teenage Patton with this one but he tries anyway. He has to; he owes him that much.

(In truth, he owes him so, so much more than that but right now this is all he feels he can give.)

“Yeah, uh, Riley, right? Seems like a sweet kid, if not a bit mischievous.” Virgil smirks slightly, somewhere between teasing and nostalgic. “Kind of like you were.” 

At that, Patton grins and he laughs and it feels right—feels like early morning rainfall and crackling log fires, like the burning in your lungs as you run and the way your eyes slowly drift shut against your will when you’re up too late, like every ending and beginning in just a moment. 

He shakes his head again, almost affectionately chastising and there’s a stuttering of Virgil’s hand as he goes to reach out, to brush a strand of hair away from Patton’s face but stops himself halfway through.

Patton doesn’t seem to notice. Virgil once thought Patton never noticed—never saw the longing in his eyes and the flushed red of his cheeks as they sat side-by-side on a park bench in the middle of winter, running from the heat of harsh words and high expectations.

He wonders if maybe that was naive. 

“Well, I’ve gotta make sure to raise her right,” Patton jokes and his smile is amused—fond and familiar like the worn leather of Virgil’s jacket between his fingers, “If she’s not questioning authority and getting me called down to the office at least once a term then I’m doing something wrong.”

With that, there’s a flash—just a moment—of principal visits and angry rants, of cutting class to sit with the other in the silence of the school office and knowing, that outside of the two of them, there was no one else to come. And he thinks of Patton—this Patton, not his Patton—taking up the empty space of that office with kind reassurances and defensive words, protecting and protecting and protecting, fighting for Riley the way he had Virgil.

Parenthood suits Patton more than he’d first thought, perhaps.

“Ah, office visits.” Virgil nods sagely and can’t resist the quirk of his lips as Patton giggles. “A hallmark of a punk child. Next thing you know she’ll be dyeing her hair, running off to the park in the middle of the night to meet up with boys.”

It’s obviously a joke but still, Patton quietens, taking on a more contemplative look. It seems as if he’s remembering something and Virgil needs, all at once, to make sure he’s more to Patton than simply that expression on his face in the midst of just another day.

“Yeah,” Patton finally says, “Yeah, she was thinking purple actually.”

Virgil doesn’t reach up and drag a hand through his own purple hair but it’s a near thing. He hums—soft and low. “Good taste.”

A heavy silence rings in his ears—an echo of all the memories they share and all the memories they don’t, a collision of black and pastel blue on a canvas already painted with teenage angst and first love—and Virgil can't stand the way it feels like it may be too much to overcome. It isn't; he won't let it be.

He takes a step closer and Patton doesn’t move away, just lets Virgil crowd him against the doorframe till their chests are pressed together and each shuddering breath is a joint effort.

“I’d like to get to know her. If you’ll let me,” he murmurs and he’s so close that he can hear Patton’s heartbeat pick up as he slides a hand up to brush at the strands of hair against Virgil’s neck.

The air between them is tense and pulled tight—gazes tracing over freckles and foundation, their skin warm with each point of contact and the rushing of blood in Virgil’s ears drowning out the pounding of his heart. Each second that goes by without comment feels to Virgil like sinking into quicksand, like fingers losing their grip on the edge of a building and threatening to let him fall.

But, before he can draw away, throw up his walls and stumble his way through apologies like they’re nothing more than kids again, Patton tugs him forward and, softly, he brings their lips together.

The kiss is a teenage fantasy come true, the culmination of every moment—under streetlights or under blankets or under nothing more than the cover of night itself—where Virgil longed to reach out and tell Patton that he wanted to kiss him until the world faded away and all that he could focus on was the taste of cherry red lipstick and the joy and love pounding in his chest like a second heartbeat.

It's the comfort in late-night knocking, Patton taking Virgil in and patching him up and holding him as he cries because he has a mother that doesn’t love him and a father that’s always absent and a world that doesn’t care, muttered reassurances a quiet backdrop to his sobs.

It's the warmth in drinking their way through meagre retail paychecks, Patton’s soft touches like fire against his skin and the thread of restraint holding Virgil back from blurting out a love confession worn down to something as thin as a spiderweb and just as delicate.

It's the exhilaration in grocery store runs with no money and bags filled with spray paint cans, their gloved hands clasped tight as they race against the biting evening wind, giving in to the urge to let out a cry of victory that bounces off the empty alley walls.

So, yes, it’s the culmination of years of pining but it’s more than that too. It’s an apology, it’s acceptance and it’s an offer of a future, to stay here with them. 

“I think I’d like that,” Patton gasps as he pulls away and Virgil’s so enamoured even after all these years that he barely knows what to say, “For you to know her, I mean. She’d like you. She’s like you, or at least the way you used to be—always a bit loose with self-control.”

Virgil doesn’t tell Patton that all his self-control had been going towards keeping himself from telling him he loved him. He doesn’t think he’d know how.

Slowly, Virgil blinks and he nods and it’s all he can do to keep himself standing as Patton beams up at him with a smile reminiscent of stars colliding—bright and beautiful enough to take his breath away. And suddenly Virgil feels like maybe he can fit in here, that maybe he can fit in anywhere he needs to if Patton keeps looking at him like that.

He smiles back, smaller than the one he’d received but the way Patton’s eyes light up makes Virgil feel like maybe that doesn’t really matter. “Okay, yeah. I want that; I want to stay.”

“Okay,” Patton parrots and he’s barely holding back giggles, Virgil can tell. It’s okay though because he feels it too—that sense of happiness and disbelief that has almost no other way to present itself—and giving in feels more like an inevitability.

So, laughing and hands joined together, Patton pulls Virgil inside to the soft white of his suburban home. And he closes the door.

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Taglist: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @camcam774 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @welpweregonnadie @spirits-in-my-thoughts @hold-my-hat @goodandbadisallmadeupnonsense @stop-it-anxiety @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @poisonedapples @sanders-screams @another-sandersidesblog @do-not-just-see-observe @mychemicalpanicattheemo @harleyquinnamiright @localtransgrape @fandomsofrandom @gattonero17 @airiervessel @ollyollyoxinfree @tired-and-probably-crying .

[missmitchieg]

Pretty Boys & Pretty Polish

Reggie smiled as he grabbed his eyeliner pencil and started his now familiar process of putting on his make up while Julie did her hair, rambling about some memory that came to him in the middle of the night. “Yeah, we did. And we’re halfway through our second song when this cute girl smiled at me and I just couldn’t resist showing off my bass playing just a little but I guess I was getting too rowdy because Luke gave me this look that said ‘chill before we get kicked out’ so I had to dial it back for the rest of the ambush gig, but I still got her number. Never got to call her, though. It was only two days before The Street Dog Incident.“

“That sucks, dude.“ Julie said as she combed through a knot in her curls, wincing when it actually hurt to comb through. “Maybe you’ll find yourself a cute.. Ow. Cute ghost girlfriend- or boyfriend- in the afterlife, though.“ She smiled, trying to be encouraging. “I mean, you never- ow- never know. Good things come to those who wait all the time.“ She said, sighing in relief as she finally got the knot out. “You just gotta manifest it. OH, by the way, Nick is coming over today and we’re gonna paint each other’s nails.“

“Oh, he’s cool.“ Reggie grinned, fixing a tuft of his hair that was laying weird. “You two have gotten close in the last few weeks. Poor Luke is getting, like, super-duper crazy stupid jealous of you two.“ He laughed, making Julie roll her eyes and cross her arms. “Reggie! Luke and I, and Nick and I, are just friends. And Luke knows there’s nothing between Nick and I. My crush on him is totally gone.“ She told him, going back to braiding her hair. “Yeah. Because now you’re crushing big time on Luke.“ Reggie said simply and crossed his own arms, giving her a look.

“Dude!“ Julie laughed, hiding her face in her hands. “Ok, yeah. What about you and your thing for Nick?“ She pointed out and gave him a look, watching him splutter and struggle for a rebuttal. “You and your ‘Nick is pretty cute, I see why you liked him forever’ and ‘Nick has nice hair and a nice smile’ and all that. You totally have a crush on him, Reginald.“ She teased, smirking at him. “He does like boys, you know.“ She mentioned, double checking that her eyeliner looked good in her mirror. “He told me so yesterday.“

“Wait, really?“ Reggie asked quickly before he could stop himself and blushed, slumping his shoulders when Julie laughed. “Ok, so maybe I do kind of like him, and he likes boys. That doesn’t mean he likes me or will like me. Not every cutie with nice hair will fall for a ghost.“ He said, fidgeting with his flannel. “He also told me, and I quote, ‘that bassist of yours has pretty eyes and his bass playing and harmonies, oh, my god’, so there’s that.“ She said, perking up when she heard the doorbell ring.

“That’s him. I’ll get it, dad!” Julie called and ran downstairs to welcome Nick into the house. “Hey, Nick!“ She grinned and hugged him, pulling him toward her bedroom. “So you having a good day so far, Danforth-Evans?” She asked and sat on her bed next to Reggie. “Can’t complain. Dads made cinnamon toast for breakfast and my sister drew me this picture of us, so that was pretty cool. And you, Molina? Written any new phantom jams with your boys?“ Nick asked with an excited grin, always happy to hear about his new favorite band.

“Yes, we have. A few, actually. And a half-written song I haven’t showed the boys yet.“ Julie admitted quietly, laughing when she saw the look Reggie was giving her. “Oh, my bassist Reggie’s here, by the way.“ She told Nick, still giggling a little as she got up and started to sift through her nail polish collection. She had told Nick, after consulting the boys, the truth about them being ghosts a week ago, deciding pretty quickly that it would just be too hard and too weird to keep up the hologram thing with him.

“Your bassist? That’s th-the cute one with the eyeliner?“ Nick asked quickly, blushing when he realized he definitely just said that out loud and Reggie definitely heard it. Julie snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth, laughing softly. “Y-yes, the cute one with the eyeliner. He likes to hang out in my room when he’s not with my dad or when we’re practicing or playing a gig,“ She told him, smirking at Reggie. “He says cool socks, by the way.“ Julie said, admiring Nick’s bisexual pride colored socks.

“OH. Um. Thank you.“ Nick smiled sweetly in the direction Julie was staring at, biting his lip when she giggled. “Oh, my god. His smile is so cute. He’s so cute. Why is he so cute? And he thinks I’m cute! Oh, my god, Julie!“ Reggie rambled, his eyes going wide and cheeks going red. “Wait. No, no, no. Don’t tell him I said any of that!“ Julie bit her lip and glanced between Reggie and Nick a couple times, shaking her head fondly at them.

“Reggie says that you’re totally welcome to sit in on a Julie and The Phantoms band practice whenever you’re in the mood for it.“ She decided to say instead, picking up a bottle of purple nail polish for herself and letting Nick pick out his color. “Now, onto what you came here for in the first place. Nail polish. What color do you want?“

“This teal one.“ Nick decided and grabbed a shimmery teal nail polish that would compliment Reggie’s eyes nicely, watching Julie put the rest of her collection back. “Pretty choice. That color would look really good on-“ Julie looked up from the bottle she’d just opened and pointed the cap in Reggie’s direction, making him stop giving Nick heart eyes and look at her. “Reg, you wanna try it on?“ She asked as she started on prettying Nick’s nails. “Yeah, it would look good.“ Nick said, giving Reggie an encouraging smile.

Reggie looked at Nick and scratched the back of his head, shrugging after a minute. “Sure, why not?“ He said and sat next to Julie, watching her paint Nick’s nails like a pro. “You’re really good at that, Jules.“ He mumbled, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. “I should be. I’ve been painting mine and Flynn’s nails for years and I used to paint Carrie’s, too.“ She told Reggie, not even looking up from Nick’s nails. “Remind me why Flynn’s not here, by the way.“

“Because Flynn’s parents think she ‘spends too much time with Julie and that weird hologram band of hers’ and she needs some quality time with her real family.“ Julie shrugged, shaking her head. “Clearly her parents have lost their minds because there is no such thing as spending too much time with your best friends.“ She said simply and Reggie and Nick both nodded in agreement.

Julie rolled her eyes and finished Nick’s right hand, moving on to his left. “Maybe another day, we can all hang together with Flynn, though. We could do each other’s nails again or do face masks, or make up. Ooh! Oh, Reginald, you have to let me do your make up one of these days.“ She told him, momentarily pausing painting Nick’s nails to give Reggie her puppy dog face. “Please, Reg? It would be so fun and you would look killer in some red lipstick.“

“Hey, hey. Focus on the task at hand here.“ Reggie said, laughing at his own pun. “I’m not saying no, though. If you say I’d look good in red, I’ll try it out.“ He said, leaning his head against her shoulder. “Maybe I can even strong arm Luke, Alex and Willie into joining in for that.“ He suggested, giving her a grin. “Oh, I love the way you think, Reg. Oh, wait. Nick, you haven’t semi-met my drummer’s boyfriend yet! Oh, dude. Willie’s awesome. He skateboards in Justin Bieber’s pool.“

“Don’t forget yelling in museums and knowing some famous peoples’ cause of death.“ Reggie reminded her, smiling at how happy Nick was looking at them. “Oh, right. And he taught Alex a very effective coping mechanism for anxiety: yelling in museums.“ Julie snickered. “Hey, if it works, it works.“ Nick and Reggie said at the same time, making Reggie blush and hide his face in Julie’s curls even though Nick couldn’t see him blush.

“Oh, now you two are speaking at the same time. You two are adorable.“ Julie teased them and laughed fondly, putting a hand over her mouth when Nick covered his face with his already dry hand. “Molina...“ He dragged out, shaking his head. “Wait, what do you mean?“ He asked, watching her curiously. “All I’m gonna say is you think Reggie’s cute and Reggie thinks you’re cute, too.“ She said as she finished up Nick’s hand and shuffled so she could comfortably hold Reggie’s hands in her lap to paint them.

“Reggie thi- I- Really?“ Nick asked shyly as he looked at where Reggie was sitting in front of Julie, biting his lip. “DUDE.“ Julie laughed at Reggie as she started to paint his nails, nodding her head quickly. “I remember Reg saying something about you having nice eyes and a nice smile. And he got super excited when I told him you were coming over today.“ She said, winking and smirking at Reggie. “I thought it was really sweet.“ She shrugged, glancing at Nick.

“He said to me, and I quote, ‘Nick is pretty cute, I can see why you liked him forever’ when I told him I had a crush on you for a long time. It’s totally gone now, though. No worries.“ She assured him, glaring at Reggie and daring him to say Luke’s name. Reggie quirked an eyebrow, scoffing at her. “Yeah, because like I said, you’re crushing on your guitarist.“ He said again, looking up at Nick.

“Reggie, stop butting into me and Luke’s not love life for five minutes, please. And tell Alex and Willie to do the same. You’re all making me crazy.“ Julie begged, smiling. “He’s giving you heart eyes, by the way.“ She said to Nick, painting Reggie’s nails like she hadn’t said anything while Nick and Reggie both blushed. “I never thought I would have a crush on a guy in a mostly ghostly band, you know.“ Nick said, admiring Julie’s work.

“Yeah, I’m sure you didn’t!“ Julie laughed, grinning at them. “Jules didn’t, either. You two could form a club.“ Reggie joked, biting his lip. Julie looked between them both again and smiled, finishing the last finger on Reggie’s right hand and moving on to his left. “So will we see you at practice tomorrow?“ She asked Nick, her and Reggie both looking at Nick curiously.

“Yes. Definitely. I wanna see my cute ghost crush in action more often.“ Nick nodded instantly, still a little embarrassed that Julie exposed his crush like that but more confident knowing his crush was at least mutual. “I just wish I could still see you and hear you when you’re not performing anymore, Reggie.“ He said softly, smiling at him. “Because you’re, like, really, really cute and I like your voice. A lot.“ He smiled, lowering his gaze and blushing.

“And I wish I could take you on a dinner date or something.“ He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, sitting in on band practices and standing in the front row at gigs is still cool and fun, but I like the idea of taking you to the movies or something, too.“ He said, looking at Julie to tell him if Reggie said anything.

“Umm... Nick, I think you broke my bassist with your compliments. He just blushed red and all he said was ‘oh, my god, he likes my voice’.“ Julie said, finishing up Reggie’s nails and capping the polish bottle. “Oh, he just said he likes your voice, too. And he wishes he wasn’t made of air so he could hug you and kiss you.“ She grinned at the love birds, deciding she could just paint her own nails while helping Nick and Reggie talk things out.

“So. So does this mean I get to call you my boyfriend, Reggie?“ Nick asked hopefully and smiled, clasping his hands together. “Because I really, really like you and I know that you’re... Dead. You’re a ghost. And I know I just said I really want to, but I don’t care that I can’t hug you or kiss you or take you out on a “normal” date. We can still do other things like practice and gigs and we can write notes for each other, or something. All I know right now is that I like you and I want to date you.“

Reggie stared wide eyed at Nick as he spoke, his smile widening with every word out of his mouth. Nick wanted to date him. Even with all of the weird complications and complexities of him being a ghost, he still wanted to date him. Oh, this was up there in the Top Ten Best Days of Reggie’s afterlife. “Yes! Oh, my god! Yes, Nick! I want to be with you, too, baby!“ He said quickly and nodded, looking at Julie to tell Nick.

Julie grinned as she listened to Reggie, turning to Nick. “Reggie says he would absolutely love to date you, Nick.“ She said, giggling when Reggie shook her shoulder. “Jules! Julie, kiss him for me. I can’t. Can you kiss my boyfriend for me?“  Reggie begged, smiling at her.

Julie laughed and nodded, turning to Nick with a grin. “Hey, your boyfriend wants me to give you this since he can’t do it himself.“ She said and gave him a peck on the cheek, feeling weird about giving him a kiss on the lips since her crush on him was gone and seeing as he was Reggie’s boy now. “You two are already so adorable together.“ She smiled, watching Reggie give Nick heart eyes and Nick give the air where Reggie was sitting heart eyes.

“I think this is the start of something beautiful, boys.“ She said as she finished painting her nails and put the polish bottles away, turning back to the boys to see that Reggie had scooted closer to Nick and almost had an arm around him. She smiled silently and sat next to them, relaying everything Reggie said (with a few things left out by request) back to Nick for the rest of the day.

“Well, I better get home soon. Dads are making pasta for dinner.“ Nick said after a few hours and got up, hugging Julie good bye. “See you at school, Molina. Bye, Reggie.“ He said dreamily and blew a kiss in Reggie’s direction, making him blush. “Bye, Nick.“ He said sweetly and waved, watching him leave. He sighed happily and fell back on Julie’s bed with a love struck look in his eyes, biting his lip. Oh, yes. This was definitely up there in the Top Ten Best Days of Reggie’s afterlife.